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IC BESM: Scum & Villainy

HardKore Keltoid

RAW Cultist
Validated User


Naraka-04 is, from any sane distance, a featureless black cube orbiting a temperamental star. It is an outpost of the Subtle Hand, the galaxy's self-appointed "karmic adjudicators". It is a lonely, wretched prison, a Hell - many Hells, actually, layered nine deep and portioned out just so, to make sure everyone gets their allotted agony. In theory, those condemned to this place are slowly stripped of "negative karma" and completely reformed. In reality, not a single sentence has ever fully elapsed.

Why are you thinking about this? You have much more pressing matters to contend with, and you're mercifully far from that awful place. You are...

Yuki

In Madame Grey's Home for Wayward Girls! You had to be sent to the orphanage after your beloved father met with a tragic accident, after all, but It's best not to dwell on such terrible things.

The playroom is a roughly twenty-by-twenty expanse of once-garish wonder, the splintering wood walls still mottled with red and yellow paint chips. The toys aren't the best, no, most of them stitched together until there are more stitches than fabric, but at least there's enough room for six friends to get along. You clearly have the best toys in here - a little pod that snaps apart into toy guns, and.. Miss..Kuma..

Those little trolls kidnapped Miss Kuma-Chan! You can see them on the other side of the room, all five of them, grabbing a limb and maliciously pulling!

Of course they're trolls. Pointy-eared, grey-skinned, black-eyed little trolls. This is not the least bit unusual.

Kitari

In your... Workshop? Didn't your workshop always look like a tangled mass of cords, sheet metal, clanking industrial things, and rust? It's a nigh-literal jungle of wires extending into the sky, smokestack-trees churning black smoke to blot out the sun. From your work, all this follows! Looking up through the canopy, you can't help but notice rolling green bolts of malicious psychic energy blazing through the smog, most forking harmlessly, but a few striking the ground, the canopy, and the psi-crystals laced throughout. Where they strike, unnatural life follows - even now, a pack of scrap-metal spiders assemble themselves, in the high boughs,. glaring down at you with six red LED eyes.

Juri

In a palace! Perhaps not a literal palace, but a vast and well-appointed home you could easily get lost in. even if you weren't gawking at all the shinies, which you certainly are. This place isn't just loaded, it's absurd - multiple walled courtyards with multiple pools filled with wine. diamond dinner plates,, silk tablecloths. and statues everywhere, pure marble. But when you try to..Appropriate it, you find it all terribly heavy. You can still lift it, of course, especially if you improvise a silk swag-bag first, but it weighs on you, no matter how small.

Then it occurs to you, y'know what this place is missing? Security.

As if on cue, there is a rumbling, a grinding of stone on stone, the sound of heavy footfalls. You are in the dining hall, at least four doors branching in all directions - a courtyard to the south, a kitchen to the north, a hallway to the east branching off into a dozen bedrooms, and a classical study to the west..Maybe. This place seems to go on forever - it may well be four mansions nested in one-another. But all that is terribly distant now - all the doors are locked, all the mirrors turn your reflection into a pointing, laughing mockery, and you are certain the security golems will be here soon enough.

Straight up, in the center of the domed, mirrored ceiling, is a sapphire eye, blinking down at you from a high hollow. If you could get up there, maybe...

Naomi

Back in boot camp, finally busted down all the way to recruit! You're on punishment duty, again, peeling potatoes in a dingy mess hall - you're pretty sure they import these things just to torment recruits, 'cause they're probably not an ingredient in standard-issue nutrient paste, but they are an ingredient in battleship vodka, as you well know! You could make some, right here, right now, with a combination of heat and a few minutes. - of course booze is made that way. But your hands go through the motions, and your legs don't move from the bench.

You're bound hand and foot, made an obscene puppet by the Chains of Command, black shackles around your wrists and ankles. You might be able to slip them..On the other hand, you know that your alleged superiors are somewhere on the other end, you could pull them here and confront them with a rebellious feat of strength!

Daisuke

In a dragon? A dead - no, a dying dragon. Your sword is covered in blood. YOU are covered in blood. Judging from the scenery, - tunnels of intestine, pools of acid, human bones - you're in the belly of the beast. If you could just hack a path toward its ribcage, you could cut out its hearts, all three of them - you know it has three hearts, obviously. You don't know *how* you know, and there's little time to ponder it - with a mighty, churning gulp, ten men tumble down the dragon's cavernous throat. They're obviously Yakuza, inked heavily and brandishing blades!
 

Shawn_Hagen

Shawnya the Evil?
RPGnet Member
Validated User
[
Those little trolls kidnapped Miss Kuma-Chan! You can see them on the other side of the room, all five of them, grabbing a limb and maliciously pulling!

Of course they're trolls. Pointy-eared, grey-skinned, black-eyed little trolls. This is not the least bit unusual.
Children were rather powerless, no one listened to them, disregarded them, did not let them do anything fun. Yuki was not sure why that thought occurred to her, not when Miss Kuma-Chan was obviously in danger! If anything were to happen to her beloved Miss Kuma-Chan... well, she would be upset... probably... No, of course she would be be upset. Miss Kuma-Chan was her teddy bear, and what little girl in an orphanage did not love her teddy bear.

"Leave Miss Kuma-Chan alone!" Yuki yelled as she charged towards the trolls.
 
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Bremen

Member
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Naomi

Back in boot camp, finally busted down all the way to recruit! You're on punishment duty, again, peeling potatoes in a dingy mess hall - you're pretty sure they import these things just to torment recruits, 'cause they're probably not an ingredient in standard-issue nutrient paste, but they are an ingredient in battleship vodka, as you well know! You could make some, right here, right now, with a combination of heat and a few minutes. - of course booze is made that way. But your hands go through the motions, and your legs don't move from the bench.

You're bound hand and foot, made an obscene puppet by the Chains of Command, black shackles around your wrists and ankles. You might be able to slip them..On the other hand, you know that your alleged superiors are somewhere on the other end, you could pull them here and confront them with a rebellious feat of strength!
Punishment detail wasn't anything new to Naomi. Though something about this felt odd, like she wasn't thinking quite right, and her memories of how she got on punishment detail again were strangely hazy. Oh well, she was probably drunk again. That, too, wasn't anything new.

It wasn't all bad; she definitely had a use for these things. It's not like anyone was going to miss a few potatoes, after all. Pity these damn chains were in the way...

Looking around to make sure she wasn't being observed, Naomi tried to twist her hands free from the shackles. Part of her was tempted to just yank on the chains until her superiors are dragged in, then maybe see how well the chains work as a garrote, but brute strength wasn't really her style. Let them think she was obediently doing their weird galley slave punishment; Naomi giggled at her own pun; she could always get her revenge later. Now was the perfect opportunity to make some booze.
 

Markov

The Fabulous King
Validated User
Daisuke

In a dragon? A dead - no, a dying dragon. Your sword is covered in blood. YOU are covered in blood. Judging from the scenery, - tunnels of intestine, pools of acid, human bones - you're in the belly of the beast. If you could just hack a path toward its ribcage, you could cut out its hearts, all three of them - you know it has three hearts, obviously. You don't know *how* you know, and there's little time to ponder it - with a mighty, churning gulp, ten men tumble down the dragon's cavernous throat. They're obviously Yakuza, inked heavily and brandishing blades!
The scenery is alive, warm entrails and noxious pools, but none of it matters. The ground trembles beneath his feet, and a great rippling of the ceiling....muscles, moving and flexing....as the other men join him inside the beast. Daisuke doesn't know who they are, and it's just as likely that they do not know him; their stances speak loudly enough, and the greeting is malice. The message is death. He has faced them before, the nameless opposition that forever stands between him and his goals, and he has no doubt that he will face them again....but he //will// face them again. And for that, he must live. The sword dances under the guidance of his fingers, twirling it idly as the other men slowly form a circle around him; a smug grin forming on his lips.

"Try it."
 

squidheadjax

Social Justice Cultist
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Juri

In a palace! Perhaps not a literal palace, but a vast and well-appointed home you could easily get lost in. even if you weren't gawking at all the shinies, which you certainly are. This place isn't just loaded, it's absurd - multiple walled courtyards with multiple pools filled with wine. diamond dinner plates,, silk tablecloths. and statues everywhere, pure marble. But when you try to..Appropriate it, you find it all terribly heavy. You can still lift it, of course, especially if you improvise a silk swag-bag first, but it weighs on you, no matter how small.

Then it occurs to you, y'know what this place is missing? Security.

As if on cue, there is a rumbling, a grinding of stone on stone, the sound of heavy footfalls. You are in the dining hall, at least four doors branching in all directions - a courtyard to the south, a kitchen to the north, a hallway to the east branching off into a dozen bedrooms, and a classical study to the west..Maybe. This place seems to go on forever - it may well be four mansions nested in one-another. But all that is terribly distant now - all the doors are locked, all the mirrors turn your reflection into a pointing, laughing mockery, and you are certain the security golems will be here soon enough.

Straight up, in the center of the domed, mirrored ceiling, is a sapphire eye, blinking down at you from a high hollow. If you could get up there, maybe...
Trapped as she is, Juri looks up at the sapphire eye, though she's mostly thinking 'sapphire'. Or rather, in her exhausted state, 'shiny!' The bag clatters to the floor as thoughts of the incoming security golems (golem? what's a golem? something bad something heavy something hitty) drop to the back of her mind in the face of her lust for that new shiny thing. She starts clambering up the walls, scrabbling at any clawhold, trying to get to it...

Whatever's eye that thing is is probably going to feel a poke soon.
 
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HardKore Keltoid

RAW Cultist
Validated User
Yuki

Troll boys are even dumber than normal boys, so among them, only one manages to turn his head in time to see an incoming Yuki. "And whatchoo gonna do 'bout it, huh?" Something in the unusually deep bass of his voice and his hard-bitten streetrat dialect brings back..Memories? Why would that...?


Miss Kuma-Chan seems content to verbally admonish them - apparently, being yanked apart in four directions is "very naughty, ow, ow, ow!" and cause for filing automated reports to their parents, her manufacturer, and the SynthSanta Registry! They don't seem to care, but they will soon enough.

Naomi

You slip the bonds of duty, creep over to a pot, set it on a rusty plasma-driven stove and fill it with potatoes. gently, gently nudging it on.. You know this'll cook down to cheap hooch, rather than an ungodly mess. The empty chains still pull, thrash and rattle, considerably lighter now - how long will it be before somebody notices? That, and the scent of cooking mot-food might draw some attention. Isn't one of your former squadmates an Inujin? Don't they have sharp noses? But he's assigned to the motorpool these days, so..

"Oi, is it chow time already?!" A rumbling bark comes from outside. Oh..Well, it could be worse.

Juri

Scrabbling up walls studded with jewels, portraits and increasingly decorative wall-hangers, you manage to ruin more loot than most thieves see in a lifetime! But it's worth it, it's all worth it. With a final bound, your grubby little claws sink into that massive.. stone? It's much too soft to be a sapphire, but, of course, much too hard to be an eye. Fingerprints carve into it, more like pretty, pretty sandstone than anything. But it is pretty, and so you PULL! There's a rumble, and a scream, a shriek like metal on metal. It blinks, slowly, a creeping plate-glass eyelid threatening to crush your grabby fingers.

Below you, four..Stone security drones, perhaps? Finish basing in the doors, and start gazing dumbstruck at eachother. "Heard noise, much noise, where? Not here. Here no longer. Elsewhere? Hiding, sneaking, creeping, wait?"

They seem to be set on departing, but they're going to debate the issue for a while. which you don't have.

Daisuke

The flesh-as-ground grows dreadfully still, and the adversaries stand tense and ready. They have no idea, they seem to like ten-to-one odds. Slowly,. the circle closes, moving as one, a wall of cleavers and garishly inked flesh.

Where's a film crew when you need one, hm?

Kitari


[signalunstable///CONTACTLOST]

 
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Shawn_Hagen

Shawnya the Evil?
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Something in the unusually deep bass of his voice and his hard-bitten streetrat dialect brings back..Memories? Why would that...?
What was she gonna do about it? And what was that voice.... It reminded her of something.


Miss Kuma-Chan seems content to verbally admonish them - apparently, being yanked apart in four directions is "very naughty, ow, ow, ow!" and cause for filing automated reports to their parents, her manufacturer, and the SynthSanta Registry! They don't seem to care, but they will soon enough.
Had Miss Kuma-Chan always spoken? It seemed actually talking toys did not fit in to Madame Grey's Home for Wayward Girls! And what were troll boys doing in a home for girls. It seemed... strange. As if things were not quite right.

Well, if Miss Kuma-Chan could talk, then just maybe toy guns...

Snapping the pod into a pair of toy guns she said, "Shoot you in the face." In response to the troll boy's earlier question.
 
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Bremen

Member
RPGnet Member
Validated User
You slip the bonds of duty, creep over to a pot, set it on a rusty plasma-driven stove and fill it with potatoes. gently, gently nudging it on.. You know this'll cook down to cheap hooch, rather than an ungodly mess. The empty chains still pull, thrash and rattle, considerably lighter now - how long will it be before somebody notices? That, and the scent of cooking mot-food might draw some attention. Isn't one of your former squadmates an Inujin? Don't they have sharp noses? But he's assigned to the motorpool these days, so..

"Oi, is it chow time already?!" A rumbling bark comes from outside. Oh..Well, it could be worse.
So soon? This is bad, but there's no way Naomi is surrendering her potatoes without a fight. Then her eyes light on the the pile of castoff potato peelings on the ground. If potato skins are good enough to serve in a bar, they must be more than good enough to serve in a military mess. Now to buy time and hope he doesn't smell anything suspicious.

"Nope, still cooking!" Naomi yells. "Come back later!" Or better yet, go chase down a rabbit.
 
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squidheadjax

Social Justice Cultist
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Juri

Scrabbling up walls studded with jewels, portraits and increasingly decorative wall-hangers, you manage to ruin more loot than most thieves see in a lifetime! But it's worth it, it's all worth it. With a final bound, your grubby little claws sink into that massive.. stone? It's much too soft to be a sapphire, but, of course, much too hard to be an eye. Fingerprints carve into it, more like pretty, pretty sandstone than anything. But it is pretty, and so you PULL! There's a rumble, and a scream, a shriek like metal on metal. It blinks, slowly, a creeping plate-glass eyelid threatening to crush your grabby fingers.

Below you, four..Stone security drones, perhaps? Finish basing in the doors, and start gazing dumbstruck at eachother. "Heard noise, much noise, where? Not here. Here no longer. Elsewhere? Hiding, sneaking, creeping, wait?"

They seem to be set on departing, but they're going to debate the issue for a while. which you don't have.
No, no, no! Gimme! Juri thinks at the slowly-blinking eye. Mine! I Didn't come all this way to- wait, where did I come from? Where is this place? She punches the sapphire eye one last time to try and knock it loose before it closes on her hand and she has to let go and fall and - wait, where did the other handholds go? She finally lets go and drops, silently screaming as she falls, aiming to land on one of the drones' shoulders...
 

Markov

The Fabulous King
Validated User
The stagnant air inside the belly of the beast seemed to grow still, and for a moment, nothing moved; even the leering, threatening ring of attackers appeared to freeze as everything was given an unnatural clarity and focus. You. Daisuke lashed out with his sword, the tip of the blade flicking through the air in a blood-streaked flash of glinting steel. The calm that had settled over the impending battlefield was lifted at once, becoming a frenzy of motion, battlecries, and killing intent.

Spoiler: Show

Unsure if I'm meant to "manually" best these mooks. But just in case? A roll.
http://orokos.com/roll/245852 = 9 + 10 = 19
 
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