((oh crap I didn't see this))
I see the notification, log out and head to the mission room

~Tonon

Slymodi wrote:((oh crap I didn't see this))
I see the notification, log out and head to the mission room

~Tonon

(( There is no notification yet. Hema and I were talking hypothetically.

I'll get the update for this (and the mission thread) out tomorrow. The last couple of days have been very busy for me.

Oh, and while I'm thinking about it... If Idunno wants to have his name on all the boards for the most recent posts now, he has to reply to this thread. ))

Talvieno wrote:

Slymodi wrote:((oh crap I didn't see this))
I see the notification, log out and head to the mission room

~Tonon

(( There is no notification yet. Hema and I were talking hypothetically.

I'll get the update for this (and the mission thread) out tomorrow. The last couple of days have been very busy for me.

Oh, and while I'm thinking about it... If Idunno wants to have his name on all the boards for the most recent posts now, he has to reply to this thread. ))

((Haha, sorry about that Slymodi. XD And I am very much looking forward to that. ))

Tonon You look over your clothes, straightening your collar and brushing off your pants, which are a little dusty. You seem to have a memory - implanted, perhaps? - of leaning up against a dusty car. Once you're satisfied that you look cleaned up, you start for the front door - hopefully it's unlocked. After all, why would they have it unlocked during a party? Parties are notoriously easy to crash.

The front door is indeed unlocked, leading into a little L-shaped hallway - there's a living room on your right, and a straight corridor ahead of you with a few doors off of it. The kitchen seems to be straight ahead - you see people moving around and talking, laughing every now and then; chill music is playing on a stereo somewhere up ahead. You see a little girl about four years old reaching upwards towards a man around your age, jumping up and down - he scoops her up and kisses her on the cheek - possibly her father. Maybe this isn't a party like you thought?

Stepping inside, you close the door behind you and start to walk forwards, into the main part of the house. Perhaps you're headed for the kitchen - if not, the hallways branches off towards the left just a little ways ahead. A woman heads towards you in the hallway - she's wearing heavy eyeliner and eye shadow, wearing a few large wooden-beaded necklaces atop a purple shirt, over which her long brunette hair cascades in little messy waves. She looks at you in confusion for a moment, but seems to decide that perhaps you're just another guest she doesn't know, and starts to brush past you without a word.



Hema You touch your fingertips to the holopad again - you have a more amusing scenario in mind. You've always been a bit of a prankster at heart - never been afraid to bend or break the rules to amuse yourself. Perhaps there's a part of you that likes to watch others suffer just for the sheer amusement of it - but it matters little. You're going to try to break the VR system.

But it doesn't break. In fact, it sets almost everything exactly the way you wanted it. "Unidentified species: 'Goblin'," a feminine AI calls out - the same voice you heard before in the simulator. "Contacting VR Manager. One moment." Around thirty full seconds pass before she starts talking again. "Species 'Goblin' replaced with deformed midget model. Please proceed to the appropriate PSI unit." As she speaks, the holoscreen ahead of you grows dark, and a light glows above the same chair you were reclining in only a few minutes before.

You're actually surprised that it went off without a hitch. You'd expected it to freeze up or throw some errors, maybe even tell you that it wasn't possible. What's the fun in trolling if everything works exactly the way you ask it to?

Regardless of this, you go over and sit down in the seat of the appropriate PSI unit, leaning backwards towards the ports. After your head is positioned correctly, you feel a cold piece of metal clamp into your spine - then another, then another few around the sides of your skull - and the real world begins to fade......

~~~

Loading program. Please wait.

It's certainly taking its time, this mission - perhaps while it's capable of designing this mission, it simply wasn't meant to. In that case, your trolling attempt was at least partially successful, and you're a little amused by it -

- until you realize that the system is in fact trolling you.

The world comes to life, bringing you forth from the void into what feels just like reality, apart from textures popping into place and geometric shapes forming as the level finishes its load. Far ahead of you, in the center of a clearing, you see a large, weakly-constructed wooden chest that doesn't seem to be locked.

You raise an eyebrow. The VR sim knows tropes?

"Ach, what are we doin' here, Hema?" you hear someone mutter to your left. Turning in that direction, you see Ottar, scratching his tangled beard. "We're miles out from the nearest town, so what are ye thinkin' we'll do?"

Ivar, standing to your right, just shrugs. He's a mean-looking man with dark, dirty hair, and a cut over one eye. "And why are we even bringing Kotkel along?" he mutters in askance.

And that's when someone pushes you roughly in the back, striding past you with great steps. "We are hunting the great Gold-knuckled Glove of Purity and Reason!" Kotkel bursts out importantly, waving his arms about in a show of grandeur. He's wearing some sort of wizard's robe and pointed hat - but neither of your other companions seem to be impressed. "It was created a thousand years ago in the volcanic forges of Mt. Devastation, by the mighty dwarven craftsmith McGuffin! If we have this ancient relic, this sacred artifact, we can save the world from the evil wrath of the Goblin King!!! We will reunite the elves and dwarves once more, and all shall live in harmony!" He holds his staff up with a dramatic air, as a beam of sunlight falls on him from above.

Without accompanying music, the effect is rather laughable. Indeed, Ottar begins to chuckle a bit through his beard, walking over and patting Ivar on the shoulder - who doesn't seem to appreciate the gesture. "That, me friend Ivar, is why we bring 'im along."

Kotkel beams with pride, does an about-face, and shuffles off towards the treasure chest pompously, using his staff like a clumsy walking stick and trying quite hard not to trip over his own robe.

Grinning, Ottar adds in a hushed voice, "It's for the entertainment."



Tulius Sighing, you sit down on the edge of the bed on your left, not wanting to embrace her. She folds her arms and stares at you. "Look, it was never my intention to end everything," you say earnestly, watching her eyes. "I hope you realize that. You showed me there was more to existence than building the largest, most explosive weapon our world had seen. I was behind the cause 100% - behind you 100%."

Your lips purse, and you pause, looking downwards at your lap in regret for a moment - and then you look back at her curiously as a thought occurs to you. "Why did they arrest you? Especially if they already had me?"

She furrows her brow, looking at you distastefully. "I was 'an accomplice'," she says distantly, resting her back against the opposite wall. "They linked me to your lab - our lab - and decided I was part of it. And... in a way, I was." She looks at you piercingly - that same piercing stare she'd given you when you'd met her, those many moons ago - "I could've called you in and had them lock you up when I'd figured out your tendency towards destruction... Maybe I even should have. But... I didn't." Using her shoulders to suddenly push herself away from the wall, Rikke corrects herself: "No, I couldn't. I saw promise in you, Tulius..." There's a brief silence in the room, as her eyes wander back to you; the faintest hint of a sad, lost smile traces her lips as she adds softly, "I saw a lot of things in you... but now we're both in the same boat... the same ship. You're here for blowing up my home, I'm here because I taught you. ...I wish I hadn't."

Heaving a gentle sigh, she sits down on the bed beside you. "So... what do we do now? Just let them kill us? Escape? Do you have a plan?"



Taepilus You mention to the woman behind the counter that you could keep an eye out for whatever mineral is needed.

She nods and looks back over her holopad, looking at the development notes. "I don't know exactly what's missing," she says slowly, still scrolling through the list, "but... apparently they're having trouble containing a gravimetric beam of that power, and it's destabilizing the containment field to create a miniature warp bubble..."

Staring at her blankly for a moment, you prod her with, "Meaning...?"

"Meaning that you need to find some advanced, specialized technology - likely some sort of anomalous material that can stand up to gravimetric warp effects. It's... vague, I know," she says uncomfortably, shuffling through a stack of paperwork on her desk, "but it's the best I can do." With an apologetic frown, she slips a few stapled sheets of paper to you under the window - they're covered in small, detailed notes about what the gravity gun is missing. You look them over for a moment - you're pretty sure you could recognize the material if you came across it, now.


Zorathex ((You don't have to be so specific about throwing the grenade. Just say you throw it. I'll take care of the rest.))
You throw yourself to the right behind your filing cabinet, hoping to stay out of the way of any gunfire - but perhaps a little too hard. There's a number of three-meter industrial grade tritanium pipes leaned up against the wall there, and when you hit the base, they come crashing down on your head - loudly. You're a little stunned from the impact - and surprised. That's real pain you're feeling right now - not some worthless health bar. If you get down to low "hitpoints" in here, it actually means something.

Hurriedly, you pull out your one and only frag grenade, look out of cover for just a second, and throw it towards the group of enemies. In that brief timespan, one of them manages to get off an amazingly lucky shot - a bullet goes right through your left shoulder. You yell with pain, and pull yourself back behind cover - one of them must be amazingly good. You're a mechanic, for god's sake - what are you even doing in combat, right? It's a good question. But... Maybe... just maybe, you're lobbing grenades.

Your grenade explodes with a loud crack - there's a yell - two yells - a huge number of yells and a chaotic burst of gunfire as the entire complex seems to realize, all at once, that you're under attack. And just like that, the power flickers and goes out. Your grenade must've blown up near a primary power conduit. Even as that's registering in your mind, your HUD - yeah, you have a heads-up-display - shows up over at the corner of your vision: Kills: 2 This mission is certainly going pretty quickly. You seem to be fairly adept at using hand grenades.

But just two kills? That means there's another one of them still out there. Regardless, the sides are now six to one. You have the upper hand, by a lot.

...until emergency lights flicker on above your head - and likely above the heads of everyone else in their repair rooms. The last thug is still in the dark... so now things are a little more even.


Rosh "I'm Dr. Rosh Korant, and this is my colleague, Annalea -"

"Dr. Annalea Brision," Annalea finishes for you, stepping forwards a bit.

You don't miss a beat. "We've been sent to help you fix the design flaws in the bioarmor suit, courtesy of Dr. Seinberger."


The youths in the room look at you cautiously for a moment. "Dr. Seinberger?" some of them mutter amongst themselves, talking in hushed whispers just out of your audible range. A woman in a red tube top steps forwards, as warily as if approaching a tiger, and asks, "Aren't those prison uniforms you're wearing?" This simple question seems to spur the confidence of other members of the group; a young man with dark, damp hair and glasses steps forwards and adds, "Dr. Seinberger couldn't have sent you - that old rat hates everyone." His statement is met with murmurs of agreement from around the little room. "We're okay without his 'help' anyway," another girl chimes in.

As if on cue, a monitor at the back of the room blows out with a loud pop, and smoke begins to rise from it.

You lean a little closer to Annalea, and murmur, "I think I can see where in the process the flaws were introduced."

She manages a grim nod, and whispers back, "I really feel for the people out on missions right now."

((Why would you include a Inexplicable Treasure Chest? What's in it? What are you planning? >.> I guess I have to try to be as genre savvy as possible.))

((Okay! Let's do this! By the way, you're doing an absolutely superb job, Talvieno. ))

Hema says "We are here, because there were some reports of goblins in the area. Ottar, Ivar, and Kotkel, Get behind cover (Preferably a tree, on the side facing away from the clearing) and ready your weapons. It would be best to avoid alerting the enemy. Do not approach the chest; it's likely trapped, or has someone inside it."
Hema gets behind a large tree, on the side facing away from the clearing, and readies his mace and shield.

((Having to really think about this now that a large amount of death tropes may be involved.))

((Tal can be quite ruthless. That's why he's so good though. ))

"Escape isn't an option. Way too large of a vessel, too many variables. Besides, where would we go? I sent the only home we ever knew, the home we loved, into a nuclear abyss. You've made it painfully clear how much fault, how much death resides with me.

((The last line is not to be a smartass remark, just a gentle reminder of her original purpose in seeking me out.))

Release a deep sigh. "The only viable option I see before us is to try and survive 10 missions. An admittedly liberal use of the term 'viable', but nonetheless.

Zorathex pulls out his sword with his right hand, and peeks out of his cover for half a second, to see if he can see the last thug.
((i'm alive. ))

((Was hoping we'd get a couple more posters in here before I made a Tartarus update. I think I've made you guys wait long enough though. If people aren't posting much, I don't want it to slow us down. I'll just do shorter updates from now on to keep your individual storylines moving.))

Hema You look back at Ottar. "We're here because there were some reports of goblins in the area," you explain to him, stepping behind a large tree. "Everyone, get behind cover."

"Well, there bloody well aren't "Goblin Kings" lurkin' about," Ottar mutters, as he and Ivan start to move.

As his companions put themselves between trees and the chest, Kotkel stays put. "If you'd like, Hema, I could cast a warding spell," he offers hopefully. Ottar chuckles, but Ivar glares at Kotkel until he sighs, slumps, and walks over half-heartedly to the nearest tree.

But... nothing happens. Nothing approaches you from the chest.

You do, however, hear some sort of girlish giggling come from the rushes at the right side of the little grass-sewn gorge you're in, up against the rocky cliff face.

"ELVES!" Kotkel bursts out loudly, a childlike expression of joy overtaking his features. Then he seems to remember he's supposed to be quiet, and says softer, "Elves, Hema! We should go see!"

Across from you, Ivar pinches the bridge of his nose, head in hand, almost ashamed that he's traveling with Kotkel in the first place.


Tulius You shake your head slightly. "No, escape isn't an option," you say quickly - "Way too large of a vessel, too many variables. Besides, where would we go? I sent the only home we ever knew into a nuclear abyss. You've made it painfully clear how much fault - how much death resides with me." Your words slow, and you heave a heavy sigh. "The only viable option I see before us is to try and survive ten missions. An admittedly liberal use of the term 'viable', but viable nonetheless."

She looks at you quizzically. "Missions? Us? Let me explain something to you." She sets her face in that irritated expression that you know, from experience with her, means anxiety. "I managed to bribe a guard into telling me where you were. He said you'd joined the REKT program, so I followed you here. That's why I'm here. What kind of skills do I have that are any good, hmm? Maybe I know how to make a good bomb, but I've never held a weapon in my life! I don't have any training except the basic stuff they put us through before we joined. How am I supposed to survive out there? And what about you? Did you ever do any training back on U-235?"


((Lot of things you can do here. I'll lay them out if you feel stuck.))

Zorathex You look out from behind cover for just a moment to see if you can see where the last thug is. You don't see him, but he can probably see you - a few bullets punch holes through a toolbox behind you. You hastily duck back and listen.

The whole shop is in an uproar. A little ways down on your right, you hear Hinkener, one of your fellow repairmen, panicking. He's making some sort of incoherent gibbering noise and whimpering. Even farther that direction, Robert Jr. is shouting "SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT" over and over - they probably won't be of much help. Soyavez is the most worrying of all - he's screaming madly - filling his lungs and letting it all out in a scream, over and over. Only Tamel and Jeston seem to be keeping calm. What did you expect, though? You're dealing with mechanics. They've never seen combat before. They're basically civilians.


Taepilus Thanking the woman, you leave with the papers she's handed you, heading back to your quarters.

It's a fairly long walk from here to there - elevators, large crowded corridors edged with inmates-turned-illegal-peddlers and the like, and so on. Everything is marked - from signs on the wall, to large labels painted on the metal floors - you know where you are, and how to get to your room.

~~~

Finally, after having to backtrack a couple times, you get there. You're weary of looking at your room number, and quite happy you've arrived. It's been a long walk. Feeling relieved that it's over, you look into the iris scanner, and the door opens for you.

It's a rather bare room. There's a large-ish standardized bed over at the right side of the room, meant to be one-size-fits-all. There's a toilet in an alcove to the left, a set of shelves on the right, and a sink near the back. The whole thing is only slightly bigger than a walk-in closet. It's not much, but it's better than the cells you had before you joined the REKT program by a lot. Especially the bed - which has a stack of books and papers on it.

((I'm going to hope that those are elves, and that you didn't throw in extra enemies without saying anything.))

Hema says "Okay Kotkel, cast your warding spell, I'd love to see some of your magic." ((This will be good)) "After he's done, we will approach that giggling, in cover, and with weapons drawn. I didn't hear any reports of elves ((>.>)), but if there are elves, we can lower our weapons, assuming there are no threats in the area."
((I'll follow my own orders so you know))

((I see before me a vast plain of opportunity. No corners in sight. ))

"My dear Rikke, part of the beauty of squad work is that an individual's weakness may be another's strength. We both know how to create, test, detonate, repair, disarm, and many more things to a vast range of explosives; from the humble C4 brick to our mighty H-bombs. A particularly handy skill when any sort of demolition crops up. Plus our knowledge regarding basic chemical makeup and their volatile reactions is sure to be useful in many ways. We may not be able to use a Gauss rifle, but I'll be damned if anyone knows explosives better. Oh, and I got a mean grenade throw.