Shadowhawk
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Voting Ehks and Portal. Four-way hang would relieve this phantom's boredom.
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IC: [ Wulf Kharon ] - UFS(?) Brasilia / place of eating Tossing his now-empty bag of jerky into a nearby garbage disposal unit, Wulf Kharon wandered out of the pool room and through the winding utilitarian hallways with no particular goal in mind. After a time, he found himself nearing a place that smelled like food; grease, salt, savory calories. A sort of restaurant area, no doubt. He drew breath deeply, tawny eyes gleaming as he tested the wind in a distinctly predatory fashion. Maybe he'd grab a cheeseburger. With fries. OOC: I think I vaguely recall the Colonel telling her crew to 'stick together'... ha ha, as if. I love this game. If anyone wants to notice Mr. Kharon and pull him into their group, that'd be great; if not, that's fine too.
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Voting Blade for first killing; null for second. The zombies need reinforcements; double hangings FTW!
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OOC: Actually, technically, he's sitting. But no harm done. IC: [ Wulf Kharon ] - UFS(?) Brasilia / Pool #3 Wulf's analytical gaze flicked briefly over the looming mountain of living stone, measuring approximate height, weight, physical capability and potential threat level in the single practiced glance. Whatever conclusion he came to, went unannounced. His features did not shift; his eyes remained flat and emotionless as ever. "I am Wulf Kharon, yes. And if jerky is palatable to your kind, by all means have some..." Still sitting comfortably on the coarse artificial sand, the big male human held up the three-pound package of meat and waved it slightly in the air, within easy reach of the big male Rockman.
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Your character's the Rockman-who-floats, right? I suppose, if you wanted to, you could have him wander over and talk with my character; the Kestrel's resident six-foot-nine calorie-chomping ex-pirate. Said individual's most recent post is back on page 29 (link), if perchance you may be interested.
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Voting null.
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OOC: Some of the characters we have here, Atton Rand, aren't the type to go actively looking for interaction. They typically wait until it comes to them. IC: [ Wulf Kharon ] - UFS(?) Brasilia / Pool #3 Tawny eyes, cool in the shadow of mirrored sunglasses, roved the scene restlessly. Ceaselessly. Ever moving, ever seeing, and a calm quick mind crunched numbers in the stillness. Chew-chew-chew-swallow. Wulf wondered, suddenly, if someone else might like a piece of jerky too. Wondered being the operative word. He hesitated mid-swallow... then shrugged slightly, and kept eating.
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Anything to do with money, and by extension, Valendale-for-GM, is good. Extreme ruthless capitalism FTW!
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IC: [ Wulf Kharon ] - UFS(?) Brasilia / Pool #3 Wulf Kharon, not particularly enthused by the thought of a swim, hadn't bothered changing into any sort of aquatic garb before entering the pool room. He had grabbed a three-pound package of jerky from a vending machine, though, and now sat contentedly on the beach, combat boots planted in the sand in a 'try-an'-make-me-move-'em' sort of way, slowly munching his course with methodical precision through the smoky slabs of meat. He was sitting alone, with the nearest Kestrel crew member at least six yards away, but that was by personal choice and not coincidence. The infinite starlit wastes were, ironically enough, not ideally suited at all for loners and introverts, and any chance for solitude, however slight, was ever welcome.
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Right, so that probably keeps her out of the restaurants or bars as well unless there's some sort of credit system (i.e. each crew member is given a certain amount of money they're allowed to spend while aboard) or if the bartenders are just ordered not to charge anyone aboard the Kesler for drinks. I've got a feeling neither is in place given they both could be a bit problematic (with the latter it probably wouldn't be absolute, maybe specific drinks are free but you have to pay for anything fancy). "I'll have... uh... ...just water, please."
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I'll second that. Atton, Xomeron; if you two simply must bicker and debate, please do it via PM, where the rest of us don't have to put up with it, alright? It gets wearisome after a while.
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This is all too confusing for me, although I'll second iBrow's observation (see above). I'm not sure if we're being manipulated somehow or not, but we can't be slaughtering endangered species. Voting null and null; might change later as circumstances shift and evolve. E: Ninja'd. Curse you, Manducus!
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Don't have much of anything really to add to the conversation, but I'd just like to throw my general support behind a long-overdue revamp of the Bionicle RPG system; from 'periodic contests w/time limit set on run length' to 'as per demand w/no time limit set on run length; if it thrives, let it'. Such a system seems to work quite effectively in the OTC, and I honestly haven't seen any conclusive evidence brought out to prove that it wouldn't work here as well.
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*cackles happily* Ha ha, told you. Stupid village. Personally, I'm suspicious of Pulse (or 'Pulsating Explosive'). It was a landmine, after all, and Pulse has proven to be too smart for his own good on more than one occasion in the past. This current Mafia is playing unusually well, from a tactical standpoint, and so... anyways, just my thoughts. Not that I wouldn't enjoy a good square Mafia win for once. E: Ninja'd by the GM. Just sayin'.
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I am not a Dark Hunter. As you will find to your sorrow when/if you break my neck at the gallows tree. That is all I have to say in my defense. I rest my case. Voting Eljay.
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No. I will simply eat your limbs. No dipping in chocolate milk. Fondue. Definitely fondue. Savory trumps sweet any day.
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IC: [ Wulf Kharon ] - UFS Kestrel / Deck 3 / Mess hall Wulf Kharon, privateer, ambled over and quietly joined the group of Kestrel crewmen that were preparing to disembark and seek out a bit of 'R&R' aboard the Brasilia. He didn't say anything, didn't do anything to draw attention to himself; but where his teammates went, Wulf would go also. OOC: For purposes of plot and description, just assume Wulf's with you. I'm not posting much, due to real life and such, but I'm still here and actively tracking this RPG's progress, so... when duty calls or opportunity comes knocking, I'll definitely answer, but mebbe not so much if it (they) doesn't (don't).
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Voting Burnmad.
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IC: [ Wulf Kharon ] - UFS Kestrel / Deck 3 / Mess hall Wulf's brief conversation with Kelezaag was cut abruptly short as the intercoms crackled noisily to life, broadcasting Ojeda's precise, militaristic voice across the entire interior of the Kestrel. "All crew, this is the Colonel. We are docking with the Brasilia; you're welcome to get some R&R aboard it, but we will go as one large group. Me and the Lt. Colonel will be attending a command meeting, the rest of you, stick with the Majors. Non-command personnel, that includes you too. ... "Well. That was... unexpected, but I'm not complaining about a change of scenery. Guess we'd better go provide heavy support in case of heated crew rivalries, eh?" The muscular ex-pirate rose to his feet, expertly lobbing his empty soda bottle cleanly into the mess hall garbage can from a distance of over thirty feet. His voice was offhand, vaguely amused; the sudden wolfish glitter in his eyes was anything but. "I could use a good brawl. It's been a while."
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IC: [ Wulf Kharon ] - UFS Kestrel / Deck 3 / Mess hall Wulf Kharon watched idly from his proverbial corner table as three officers entered the mess hall, among them Pink Hair and Daniels. The third, Lieutenant Sophie Chastain, he knew only by sight. "..."
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Voting Pulse.
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IC: [ Wulf Kharon ] - USF Kestrel / Deck 3 / Mess hall There comes a time, in every man's life, when there's nothing more that he can do to be useful until circumstances shift once more. Wulf Kharon had reached that point twenty-four hours ago. Heavy lifting, carrying, working an impact drill? Sure. That, he could handle. Only now, the ship's repair and rebuilding was well into the stage of fine detail, spit 'n polish, and just generally much-training-required, which came across as being pretty much synonymous with 'no oversized pirates allowed'. But he didn't mind. Hours of boring downtime was something he could handle with the best of 'em. Especially when lounging comfortably in a deserted mess hall that smelt of protein and grease, with a nice cool drink near to hand and steel-toed boots resting on the table in true rebel fashion. ... With a lazy twitch of the wrist, Wulf tipped up the half-empty bottle of Coke and drained it in a single meditative swig. ... OOC: Open for interaction. Also, I think the bunk chart needs updated?
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IC: [ Rhea / Nero ] - Ko-Wahi / Drifts Elsewhere, as perceived from wherever elsewhere isn't, two moving figures hazed in the mist and no longer did the chill drifts whisper of their passage. It would be a long journey before them, and dangerous, but the crimson flames of Rhea's homeland beckoned, and there was nothing in the white realm of ice that held her any longer, any more. Ever restless, free as the wind, the Su-Toa bounty hunter went... but not alone, never alone. For where his lady wandered, so too did the Axe. Because just in case. And whatever the future held, it was sure to be epic. As well as, no doubt... exceedingly profitable. She grinned, green eyes dancing in the shadow of her cloak hood. A chapter closed... a new one began. It was high time to get started. *lights fade to black; curtain drop; dramatic journeying music UP* OOC: ...blah blah blah I don't even know why I wrote that because it only served to introduce the following: Said characters, to Ta-Wahi by way of Mount Ihu and western inland Ga-Wahi.
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Voting Valendale.
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IC: [ Wulf Kharon ] - Slavers' vessel Things happened. Again. Wulf Kharon, wrists freed by quick bladework on the part of ever-useful Miss Mantis, scrambled nimbly for the first fallen slaver's sidearm. Dimly, he recognized that alarms were starting to go off, probably heralding something exceedingly unpleasant in the looming future, but right now he had other things on his mind. And most likely no more than milliseconds to do them in. Swinging his newly-acquired .38 semi-automatic handgun up into firing position, the gargantuan privateer rapidly and methodically squeezed off a half-dozen rounds in the specific direction of Captain Geist's semi-organic vitals. OOC: Bleh, am simply not in a writing mood today. tl;dr: 'Kharon is free; grabs pistol and shoots at Captain Geist'.
