Day 1: Ground Zero

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Aug 28, 2015 2:29 pm
Khamal stomped up, dragging the surviving alien by the leg. The Sassanid dumped the unconscious alien unceremoniously in a crumpled heap beside the sniper. "Watch him," he said, and then he turned to the task at hand.

He eyed the rubble that the man was trapped under. "Stay still," he said in accented but otherwise perfect Pashto. "If you struggle you may dislodge something." He examined the rubble and chose a promising looking slab of concrete that had collapsed. He grunted with the effort as he slowly, carefully pushed the slab away and pried the larger chunks off, to reveal the astonished survivor blinking up at the impassive masked warrior in torn, burnt clothing.

"You are in my debt," the masked stranger told the shopkeep in his mother tongue. "One day I may come for you or your sons or your sons' sons, and they will know me, as you know me now." He showed the man the rune etched in his chest. "And on that day I will ask that you repay this debt. Will you and your descendants honor it?" The man nodded, solemnly. The warrior helped him up, a large hand held out to steady him.

Khamal turned to the sniper and switched back to English. "Your friend appears shaken, but otherwise unharmed."
Last edited August 28, 2015 2:36 pm
Aug 29, 2015 4:07 am
Princeps eyes the pieces he'd been able to collect, a little wary as he carefully stocked them inside one of his bike's storage panels. Going to have to watch out for these things and hope they don't malfunction. He took a few bits of the armor as well, to try and analyze the materials they were made of. As soon as he'd finished with his moments of scavenging, he looked around to see who else needed assistance. The other two seemed to be helping out with a broken shop to the side, so he was not likely needed there.

He decided instead to make his way towards the strange man who had brought forth the lotuses. "Greetings, sir. Good work keeping the civilians safe." He looked over the people quickly, trying to see who else needed a little more assistance. "I hope the authorities arrive soon, it is about time that they came on scene." He paused then decided to introduce himself. "I am Princeps. You are?"
Aug 30, 2015 12:53 am
Redline hears Clint's voice, and rushes over to his side. Hearing the cries of the trapped Ashot, he stops to assess the structural integrity of the rubble covering the poor shopkeeper -- and tries to find out the best way to rescue him. Can the rubble be cleared away safely? Is Ashot pinned by heavy masonry?

How fast will Redline have to rescue Ashot -- and others like him?

AND... here are the question I'd like answered, EIC:

What is about to happen?
What danger should I be on the lookout for?
What is here that is not what it appears to be?

All for the purpose of rescuing people like Ashot from the rubble.
Last edited August 30, 2015 2:26 am

Rolls

Examine+Investigate(2) - (2d6+2)

(65) + 2 = 13

Sep 1, 2015 1:57 am
[OOH: Since Raymz posted first, we'll go for him rescuing Ashot first, that said Redline's investigate action still happens]

Ashot looks shaken but nods, dumbly to the man with the Rune. It was an archaic notion, but what was an immigrant to a foreign country to do but to agree to such strange terms?

---

Redline surveys the area, the attack was isolated (thankfully) to the building and it's nearby streets, but there was little to go on as to what their motives are. That said there was a someone left alive after the heroes responded wasn't there?


What is about to happen?

It looks like a scouting team / exploration group sent to test military / combat capability.

What danger should I be on the lookout for?

The aliens seem to be adept at the use of heat and energy based weapons. Given that you guys fought infantry which levelled a building, their vehicle / armor equivalents will be terrifying.

What is here that is not what it appears to be?

It seems that there isn't anything out of place, or hidden.

Sep 2, 2015 6:38 am
"Good on ya, mate!" Clint tipped his hat towards Khamal.

All this was a few leagues up from the usual drongos shaking up people passing by dark alleys. Now that the tin can aliens have made it personal, hurting his friend and all, Clint decided to hurt them back. Clint decides that a lot of things are personal. Lets him shoot more people that way. Gotta let it out of one's system every now and then.

"Hell of a bingle we have here. Boys in the divvy ain't gonna be much good. By the way, you want a mint or something for your throat? You sound a little hoarse."

He takes out his knife and begins poking at the alien's helmet, looking for a way to get it loose. The alien jerked and Clint realized that this one was still alive.

"Not quite dead yet, eh?" Clint kept poking at the alien's visor, much to its distress. "Don't start none, you don't get none. Now let's get that mask off."
Sep 2, 2015 7:02 am
With a mechanical hiss, and jets of vapor, the hydraulics of the helmet triggered, sliding the visor upwards and the rest of the faceplace sliding back and to each side, revealing a reptilian creature with red scales and rows of vicious-looking teeth. He struggles weakly, but isn't going anywhere.
Sep 2, 2015 7:41 am
"No thank you, " Khamal declines politely. He regards the sniper as he pokes at the invader. Khamal has worked- fought, really- with and against Australians, over the years. Exceptional drinking and fighting companions, earnest almost to a fault, but not the most subtle people, as a whole.

The the helmet slides open and reveal's his enemy's face. Khamal stares at the reptilian features and the technology around it, and tries to go through his centuries worth of experience for any sort of recognition of who, or what, has decided to take his city by force.
Last edited September 2, 2015 8:10 am

Rolls

Examine + Investigate (+1) - (2d6+1)

(25) + 1 = 8

Sep 2, 2015 8:16 am
Khamal came to recognize the thing... a Salamander, a race of supposedly magical creatures that are believed to live deep beneath the earth and can withstand tremendous heat. Not particularly intelligent, and certainly not capable of developing this kind of technology on their own.

Someone was fielding them as a test of some sort. And there were very few entities capable of performing such a summoning in these modern times.

"Mara" the Rune uttered the name of an ancient enemy, a force as immortal as evil itself, she has worn countless forms and faces before. Khamal remembered her from their last encounter, when she was masquerading herself as a high priestess of the Arcani.
Sep 2, 2015 8:40 am
Khamal swears, muttering in a long, rich string of Arabic. He slams a bootheel down onto the alien's chestplate, cracking it, as it hisses in pain.

"This attack will not be the last," he declares to the Australian, switching back to English. "And it stinks of an old magic."

Mara had always been one quick to seize new technologies and bend them to her purpose, but he doubted she could have equipped her soldiers in this manner on her own. Had the wretched sorceress been consorting with scientests and other peddlers of new technology?

Khamal wrenches off the helmet from the alien, ungently. He studies the lights and symbols still flickering in the display. Perhaps one better versed in this lore would be of more use.
Last edited September 2, 2015 8:45 am
Sep 8, 2015 8:33 am
After spending a few moments with Shancai and the civilians, Princeps turned his attentions back towards the remnants of the attacking force. He quickly caught sight of the other two involved in the brief battle and drew closer. The two appeared to be inspecting the weakly struggling form of one of the aggressors, from what he could see.

"Good day, sirs." He spoke up as he approached. "Quite decisive work." Princeps nodded towards the spread of bodies around them, much of them dead or gravely injured. He hadn't needed to use lethal force for quite a long time and had more of the habit of subduing opponents with something that left the local law enforcement with survivors. But he could split hairs with that some other time.

"What do we have?" He took a look closely at the equipment and the face of the enemy they were up against.

Rolls

Investigation - (2d6+1)

(14) + 1 = 6

Sep 8, 2015 8:49 am
A cursory inspection of the combat armor revealed some blatantly obvious clues towards ARGENT (Advanced Research Group ENTerprises) a criminal organization involved with high-tech crimes. Why they would be in bed with an ancient, primordial force of evil is a bit of a question mark right now, but their course of action was clear.

Thankfully it didn't take long for Princeps to track down the location of ARGENT's base of operations. All they needed to do then, was to get the information they needed... by force if necessary, to stop this unholy union of magic and machine.
Sep 11, 2015 7:12 am
Khamal's eyes narrowed as he regarded the armored swordsman. The mention of Mara had put him on edge, and also jogged a long, long memory. The swordsmanship-- it was still recognizably influenced by Arcani fighting techniques.

He was careful to keep his voice even as he asked. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
Sep 12, 2015 3:04 am
Princeps took stock of the man addressing him. He had an air about him that felt familiar. Familiar in the sense that he'd encountered it before. Usually among people who were no stranger to conflict. He considered the question carefully before replying. "Why, have you seen it before?"

It wasn't a style commonly used, considering that it relied on the almost precognition-like senses and reflexes of the Blooded. The maneuvers he'd done were things that few could get away with, distilled from many centuries of mix and matching the various martial arts from across the globe. Most who witnessed it were either fellow Blooded, close allies of them, or very skilled enemies. Truth told, Princeps was not really sure which one of those three groups he'd prefer Khamal belong to.
Sep 14, 2015 2:39 am
"The way you fight, it is a very... old technique, from Rome." Khamal said, studying the warrior. He carefully adjusted his makeshift mask. "Used by a group of people who have wanted me dead for a very long time. How is it that you have come upon this knowledge?"

Khamal listened, waiting for a reply not just from the man before him, but also from the Rune. It stayed curiously silent-- conveying nothing but a mild-- wariness? anticipation? Perhaps Khamal would not have to try to kill this man, too. At least for now. For the Sassanid, allies were few, and very, very far between.

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