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Post by Maelstrom on Feb 26, 2017 1:46:45 GMT -6
[GM Post]
The Valiant dropped out of FTL several-hundred-thousand kilometers from the Annos Basin mass relay. Before the turian frigate could fully come about for the next relay jump, along their course to Noveria, a brilliant beam of light shot out, slicing off the starboard wing. A Collector cruiser started accelerating towards the damaged vessel, having been lying in wait close to the relay, allowing massive station’s power signature to overshadow the ship’s own.
The Valiant drunkenly changed course and accelerated away from the relay at its maximum sublight speed, its pilot managing as best he could with a critically damaged craft, sending out a distress call all the time. It was a marvel that Mr. Torrez was able to maneuver the handicapped craft deftly enough to dodge the worst of first several salvos, but with the wing severed, it was impossible for the Valiant to enter FTL. Shots from the closing Collector vessel grew more and more accurate with each kilometer gained, and the rear weapons-systems of the Valiant were insufficient to pierce its attacker’s defenses.
[Notes]
• Participation in this chapter is not required. All characters not posting will be assumed to have survived.
• The Valiant is being slowly crippled by shots grazing the hull, but the interior is slowing becoming a mass of dislodged bulkheads and supports, with fires coming to life everywhere.
• Bridges has been isolated from the rest of the crew and cannot be reached. He is directing efforts to keep the ship functional and for the crew to escape from his current position. For specific direction, contact the GMs for direction (as there are not any planned posts from Esteban Bridges in this chapter).
• Crew members are to proceed to the Vengeance if possible (all PCs should do so unless given prior approval by the GM). The escape pods will be launched as decoys and last-ditch means of escapes for essential personnel. Not all will be ejected.
• Feel free to role-play the escape from the ship so long as it remains within this framework, if you had a character on the ship.
• Immediately prior to launch of the shuttle and pods, the Valiant will jettison its payload of torpedoes as mines, to give cover. The cruiser’s defenses neutralize these.
• The Valiant then ejects its core as an explosive, and is totaled in the explosion, the Vengeance going to FTL.
• A fleet of salarian frigates and turian cruisers will arrive immediately after, driving off the Collectors.
• Not all NPCs will survive.
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 1, 2017 0:04:27 GMT -6
A hard impact jostled him from his bed, and Maelstrom landed hard on the floor. Alarms were blaring from his craft’s sensors. Maelstrom stumbled to his feet, racing for the armory.
“Emily, report!”
“The Valiant has sustained severe damage to the starboard side. External ship’s sensors have detected a Collector craft closing,” his VI reported.
“Patch us in to ship’s comms, Emily,” Maelstrom ordered, as the door open and he quickly started getting himself into the suit of armor.
He heard Mister Torrez giving a report on the situation to Bridges, followed by a litany of ill-boding damage reports from the engineering section. Esteban was straight and to the point, ordering the ship to go on the run and directing the engineering staff briefly in their priorities.
“Maelstrom,” Bridges called over the comms, “prep your shuttle for takeoff, but wait for my signal to launch.”
“Understood,” he said, before lowering the helmet onto his head, then checking his environmental seals. Everything was reading green, and he had a plentiful oxygen supply in his tanks.
Bridges directed the entire crew, save Mister Torrez and the engineering staff to the Vengeance. The docking system lowered so that his ship was level with the floor, and the clamps disengaged. Maelstrom held on to the rails overhead, wincing as he felt impact after impact rock the ship. Power conduits in the shuttlebay exploded in brilliant displays of sparks. Fires sprang up here and there.
There was a large explosion, and he listened with an odd detachment as crew members piped up, stating that Charlene Donnely had been right next to the blast. From the sounds of things, she had been killed instantly.
Malestrom closed his eyes for a second, trying to get a grip of the emotions running through his mind. Just when I thought I found a home.
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Post by Joe Fischer on Mar 1, 2017 4:27:21 GMT -6
Joe was in the middle of his workout, a punishing routine that would break most men. It was not traditional exercises used in the past but rather a series of exercises designed to simulate realistic motions in realistic situations, thus echoing the credo of all military training: train as you fight.
The ship suddenly reeled, sending him sprawling to the deck.
It buckled again, and now he knew something was wrong. One could be chalked up to a random occurrence, but two...
Bridges' voice came over the intercom, explaining the situation and directing everyone to head to Maelstrom's shuttle.
Joe marvelled at the man’s tone; he may as well have been asking the team to dinner.
He stood still for a second--not out of fear, but to consider his options--then headed for the sleeping areas.
*****
Three minutes and thirty seconds later, he strode out, fully armed and armored.
"Bon, open a channel," he said.
"Done," the VI said.
"Everybody, this is Fischer," he said. "I'm going to make a sweep of the ship for survivors, on my way to Deck 1."
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 1, 2017 20:06:34 GMT -6
Eric headed down to his makeshift nook in the docking bay near the Vengeance and popped open one of his custom Bultas crates, searching for an edible MRE (Meals Ready to Eat). The instant he spotted something to his liking, his vision went black momentarily as he was tossed head over rump to the floor. He quickly returned to a consciousness now accented with smoke and sparks.
“Wasn’t me!” he coughed out. Who or what th’ hell was it, then?
Shipwide comms provided the dread answers. The Valiant was under attack. Maelstrom was ordered to prep his ship for launch. Joe Fischer was searching for survivors on his way down. And from the sounds of the other crew member’s reports, their vessel stood little chance of survival.
They would have to abandon ship.
Eric pulled himself upright and quickly donned his armor. Then he tossed whatever he could of his personal effects into another crate before locking them all down, hoping that the indestructible reputation of Bultas crates would hold up even through this attack. Still, not wanting to chance the loss, Eric stowed into a panel of his chest plate his most prized possession: his old H.P. Lovecraft book.
The senior N7 slammed on his helmet and engaged his own comms.
“Lysander sounding off! I’m heading to Engineering! Meldom? Naetalia? Karn? Whoever’s still with us, holler ‘I!’”
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 1, 2017 20:17:28 GMT -6
“Lysander sounding off! I’m heading to Engineering! Meldom? Naetalia? Karn? Whoever’s still with us, holler ‘I!’”
The other man's voice snapped him partially back into the moment. "Maelstrom here. Vengeance is prepped and ready."
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Post by Joe Fischer on Mar 2, 2017 15:16:20 GMT -6
During his trip, the ship reeled and buckled several more times from the shots it took as well as Torrez’ efforts to avoid them. Fortunately, his armor’s boots and gauntlets came equipped with gravity clamps which prevented him from taking any more falls.
He reached Deck 1 and found himself staring out into space. Part of the hull had been completely blown away, and now the only thing keeping him from flying out into space were the magnetic clamps and the emergency force field that had sprung up over the hole.
“This is Fischer, I reached Deck 1,” he reported. “We got a partial tear in the hull, so watch your footing up here or you’re going to be floating home.”
An electronic sound caught his attention, and seconds later the doctor’s FENRIS mech bounded up to him.
He knelt down and petted it, and it made a sound he had come to recognize as pleasure—or whatever passed for pleasure in the mech’s mind.
“Hey there, boy,” he said. “Where’s the doctor, do you know where the doctor is?”
The mech barked affirmatively and led him further in to the ship.
*****
He reached the sickbay and looked in to see the turian doctor lying on the floor, pinned down by a large crossbeam.
“Doc!” he called out.
No response.
No movement.
“Bon, is she alive?” he asked.
“Yes,” the VI said. “But she’s suffering multiple critical internal injuries. If she doesn’t get help soon she will die.”
As if the mech could hear the VI, it padded up to its owner and made a sound of distress.
“Step back, boy, I’m going to help her,” he said, and the mech obeyed.
Looking at the beam, he knew it was going to be a tough lift. Even though it was made of a lightweight metal, he knew it weighed toward the top end of his lifting ability.
He squatted down, his legs straddling the unconscious turian and curled his arms under the beam.
Lift with your legs, not your back.
He pushed upward through his heels, his massive quadriceps allowing him to lift the beam. Even with his legs doing most of the work, his arms screamed as they were pushed to their limits.
He looked down at the doctor. She was clear of the beam but still unconscious.
“DOC!” he yelled, his external amplifiers at full volume.
No response.
No movement.
“Dammit,” he hissed. “Bon, open a channel.”
“Done.”
“This is Fischer again,” he said. “I’m on Deck 1 in the sickbay. The doctor is here but she got hit with a beam and was knocked out. I got the beam off her but I need some help moving her. Be advised she's got critical internal injuries, so get up here on the double.”
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 2, 2017 20:33:53 GMT -6
"Maelstrom here. Vengeance is prepped and ready."
"Copy that," replied Eric "Be right back with some passengers - standby."
Pushing and clearing wreckage in his path, the senior N7 made his way inside Engineering, bumping into a battered but still breathing crew member in and emergency respirator.
"Heard about Donnely," said Eric matter-of-factly. "Who's left?"
"Too busy trying to hold us together to get a head count," he coughed back.
"Well gather up anybody that couldn't reach an escape pod and head for the Vengeance - cleared th' way for ya!" As the crewman headed off to search Eric switched frequencies. "B-man? Torres? Come in - I'm in Engineering. Found one crewman so far." The firebug thought a second. "Can Torres keep ahead of the volleys or can he use an assist?"
[Insert replies from Bridges and/or Torres]
Joe's voice suddenly cut in over the comms. “This is Fischer again,” he said. “I’m on Deck 1 in the sickbay. The doctor is here but she got hit with a beam and was knocked out. I got the beam off her but I need some help moving her. Be advised she's got critical internal injuries, so get up here on the double.”
"Shit!" spat Eric, who then keyed his comm to respond "Love ta help, kid, but I'm down a hole. I'll try ta make my way up if no one's near ya..."
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Post by Joe Fischer on Mar 2, 2017 21:12:49 GMT -6
"No worries Pops, don't throw out a hip or anything trying to be a big damn hero," Joe shot back.
The Valiant reeled from another hit, and even with the inertial dampeners, he lost his balance and fell forward.
He could see that beam was going to land on the doctor's head in a matter of seconds.
"Bon, divert backup power to arm actuators!" he yelled.
"Done," his VI said, and not a moment too soon.
With the temporary added power in his arms, he tossed the cross beam up and finished his fall forward, now on all fours over the still unconscious turian.
The crossbeam reached its maximum height from his toss and then was reclaimed by gravity, bringing it squarely down on his back.
The impact nearly forced him down onto the doctor, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself back onto his hands and knees, now holding it up perhaps a foot from her.
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Lekuhn
N2
"Let me see if I can remember...yeah, I can."
Posts: 27
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Post by Lekuhn on Mar 4, 2017 15:54:20 GMT -6
Lekuhn always liked to meditate during FTL travel. He found that it eased his transition to the new environment he would be encountering at the end of a trip. This particular trip's meditation was ended abruptly by a sudden jarring of the ship and an obvious change of speed and direction. From sitting cross-legged on the floor, Lekuhn was flung sideways into the air. He opened his eyes to an upside down room and felt that his head was accelerating quickly towards the floor. Instinctively, he put his palms above his head and pressed them against the floor launching himself into a round off. He landed in a crouched position, on the balls of his feet.
"What in the...?"
"All crew report to the Vengeance immediately!" squaked the voice of Bridges across the intercom.
This is the end of the Valiant. I can feel it. Gotta go!
Lekuhn felt the ship veer and jump to sub-light. He could tell the pilot was attempting evasive maneuvers, most likely with limited capability. Lekuhn ran out the door of his room and as he made haste towards where the Vengeance was docked, he almost lost his footing as the ship took more rounds.
Move, Lekuhn. Move!
He picked up the pace and soon the Vengeance was in sight. Lekuhn looked towards his salvation as he ran hard, but seemed to move in slow motion. Ironically, staring back at him, was a goofy, one-eyed smiley face. He was relieved to see Maelstrom at the door beckoning him as he ran.
That is the most reliable loose cannon ever, he thought.
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Post by Joe Fischer on Mar 5, 2017 9:14:59 GMT -6
In spite of the pain caused by the massive beam trying to crush him, Joe felt himself waffling back and forth between concern and annoyance, mostly concern.
No one had responded to his request for help, and in his experience people who didn’t do things did it for one of two basic reasons: they were either unable—or unwilling.
He could understand if the others hadn’t responded; they were either already dead or trying to help others. He just hoped no one had run straight to Maelstrom’s shuttle; that would definitely show weakness of character on their part.
Not to mention losing a thousand Cool points in my book.
Torrez, for his part, was still doing his job, trying to avoid the blasts from the Collector ship, but with each hit his job got a little bit harder.
Another thing Joe knew was that when things went bad people showed their true character. He had seen trained soldiers cut and run at the first sign of trouble, and he had seen untrained and out of shape civilians step up to protect others from armed criminals.
When there was no time to think, you did what your instincts told you. Torrez, regardless of his sexual preferences, was showing why Bridges had hired him, and when he met the pilot in Valhalla he would buy him a beer.
Heavy footfalls on the deck broke him from his maudlin thoughts, and the unmistakable shape of Karn materialized out from the fire and smoke. The krogan strode through the wreckage, casually pushing piles of it aside as if he was just out on a walk.
Probably through Tuchanka, given the state of the ship, but still a casual stroll nonetheless.
He reached the pair and chuckled.
“Another problem you need me to fix, isn’t it?” he said. “Saving your ass is starting to be a full-time job!”
In spite of his situation, Joe laughed.
“Good to see you too, Karn,” he said. “Get the doc out of here. Now here’s the hard part: she’s got multiple critical internal injuries, so I need you to be gentle with her.”
“I can be gentle,” the krogan said. “Now what does it mean again?”
Joe laughed again.
“Just get her out of here before I let this drop on her out of spite,” he said.
The krogan chuckled again as he began carefully pulling the unconscious turian out from under Joe.
“Saving a turian,” Karn said, shaking his head. “If any of the Blood Pack saw this…”
“Chalk it up to temporary insanity,” Joe said.
The krogan finished extracting Naetilia and cradled her in his arms as if he was holding a baby, then started making his way towards Maelstrom’s shuttle.
Okay, you’re the big damn hero, time to save yourself.
Another explosion rocked the ship, and this time it was too much strain on him. His arms and legs gave out, and now he was the one pinned to the deck.
Dying after saving someone while the ship is under attack from the Collectors, he thought and the similarities of his situation to Shepard’s were not lost on him.
I wonder if Cerberus will spend a fortune to rebuild me…
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 6, 2017 20:10:43 GMT -6
"No worries Pops, don't throw out a hip or anything trying to be a big damn hero," Joe shot back.
Eric snorted and steadied himself as the ship rocked yet again. Two figures, one supporting another, came forth from the smoke. Eric escorted them out of Engineering and directed them to the Vengeance before heading back. He tried raising Bridges and Torres again as he went further into Engineering.
"Guys...? Don't know if you can read me... if you're okay with this... gonna see if there any 'countermeasures' I can chuck out to give us some space between us and our 'friends...'"
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Post by Joe Fischer on Mar 12, 2017 10:50:30 GMT -6
Another explosion rocked the ship, and Joe knew it was just a matter of time before it was just so much scrap. Now the only question that remained was whether he would be part of it.
The one thing he knew was that he was tired.
So very tired.
He had been fighting most of his life, and if there was one thing a warrior appreciated more than anyone else it was peace: a quiet afternoon spent fishing, even if you didn’t catch anything; talking a walk on a beach, holding hands with a woman who loved you; sitting in a movie theater and laughing at the fake heroes of the vids that everyone else seemed to worship.
When one stares down death, the simple things in life, the things most people take for granted, take on a meaning and a flavor the rest would never know or understand.
And then there was what came afterwards. Was there really a paradise that lay just beyond the reach of this world? Would he be allowed entry? If so, would there be anyone he knew there? Part of him really wanted to know.
Quitter…
*****
“Hey puta, how’s it going?”
Eighteen-year-old Joseph T. Fischer, Alliance Marine private in his fifth week of basic training, hated running more than anything else. He was not built for it. The push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups; he could handle those all day with no problem, but running?
No.
He was made to stand and fight, not run away.
He didn’t look at the speaker, Drill Instructor Rodriguez. She was running alongside him, a faint sweat visible on her forehead, while he was dripping like a pipe inside him had burst.
They were three miles into a six-mile run and he thought his heart was going to explode.
She was running backwards.
From Day Zero—the day he began basic training—she had gotten a bug up her ass about him. During inspections, there was something always wrong with his uniform or his bunk or his weapon or anything else she could think of.
He remembered his father telling him it was all a game in basic, that the drill instructors were looking to break the recruits down from the inside, to make them think they weren’t good enough to serve and to make them quit. They couldn’t put their hands on the privates, so all they had were words and the mind games.
“You know, puta, I seen dozens like you come through and try to make it,” she said. “Big-time high school athletes thinking they were all that, that they think they know something about working. I sent every last one of them back crying to their mommies, and I’m going to send you back too.
“You think those football and wrestling championships mean anything, puta?” she said. “Those don’t mean shit here, not in my Corps, not in the real world.
“I’m actually surprised you made it this far,” she said, still running backwards. “But you ain’t going to make it. You got all those big muscles, but you got a tiny heart. That’s where your real strength comes from. You’ve been able to make it this far, faking the funk, but you’re going to quit. I know that as sure as anything.
“You want to know a little secret?” she said. “We’re given a quota of privates we have to make quit each cycle. I’m one more away from meeting mine, and it’s going to be you. Then you can go home and whine about how mean I was and that I had it in for you and I did all sorts of unfair things to make you do it.
But you know something, Private? I’m not making you do anything, I’m just applying a little pressure. It’s all on you to decide how to handle it, and I know you’re going to quit.
“Do it, Private,” she hissed. “Do it, do it right fucking now. Say the words. Say them or I swear to God when we get back to the barracks, I’ll make this whole damn platoon run this again and I’ll tell them it was your idea. Good luck getting any sleep tonight, puta.”
His vision swam in and out of focus, and the next thing he knew he was on the ground.
“I knew it,” she sneered. “You don’t have what it takes, Private. Now say it. Two little words and you can go back to your hot food and soft bed and your blowjobs from those empty-headed twats who think you’re God’s gift to humanity.
“Say it, puta.”
*****
Say it…
“Not today,” he said.
He drew his legs in underneath himself and pushed, giving himself enough space to bring his arms in and push as well, getting him back on all fours. He would liked to have just pushed himself up a little bit further so that the beam would just slide down his back, but it would then catch on his shotgun and the angle would severely reduce the amount of leverage he could generate with his arms.
Since the beam was across his upper back, it was fairly easy to get his arms underneath it. He brought his left foot forward until it was flat on the deck.
Now came one of the harder parts of the operation. As he was bringing his right foot forward, he would be supporting the beam with just his left leg.
“Bon, divert all power to the actuators in my left leg,” he said.
“That is going to blow them out in a few seconds,” his VI said.
“A few seconds is all I need, now do it,” he said.
“Done,” the VI said.
He brought his right foot forward, making sure it was firmly planted on the deck.
“Okay, ease off on the actuators,” he said.
“Good,” the VI said. “A few more seconds and they would’ve blown out.”
He was now back in virtually the same position as when he was getting ready to lift the beam off the doctor.
Okay, we did it before, we can do it again. Inhale, then push on the exhale…
If his helmet had been off, a third party would’ve seen his face turn beet red and thought several veins in his head would pop from the effort of his lift.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he was back in the standing position, the beam now resting across his shoulders.
Don’t lock your knees, don’t lock your knees…
To prevent that and also to help maintain his balance, he took one step forward with his left and one step back with his right, thus creating a triangle, widely recognized as one of the most stable geometric shapes.
And that, boys and girls, is why you don’t skip leg day…
One more lift and he was done; he just had to get it over his head and he could make it to the shuttle.
He looked over at rest of the beam off his right, then shook his head and laughed.
If Gunny Fisk saw this, he’d make me low crawl all the way back to Earth.
He activated his omniblade, sliced through the beam, letting it fall to the deck, then shrugged off the piece on his back.
Let’s not tell Pops about this, otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it, he thought as he made his way to Torrez.
*****
When he reached the cockpit, he saw the pilot’s hands moving faster than he thought was possible.
“Come on Torrez, we’re getting out of here!” he yelled.
“No way!” the pilot shouted back.
“Going down with the ship sounds romantic as fuck, until the ship actually starts going down!” Joe yelled back. “Now come on before I drag you out that chair!”
“The only reason the Collectors haven’t blown us apart is because of me!” Torrez shouted, his hands still flying over the controls. “Now get your steroid-abusing ass down to the shuttle!”
Yeah, he’s got it…
“Next time we meet, drinks are on me!” Joe yelled, then started making his way to the stairs. “Bon, open a channel to the others.”
“Done.”
“This is Fischer, Deck 1 is clear,” he said. “What’s the status of the other decks?”
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Post by Maelstrom on Jun 4, 2017 21:43:51 GMT -6
[GM Post]
[Note- I had hoped to get to RP this a bit more, but I did need to put this up, to give some closure to what happened on this mission.]
One by one, each member of the crew (PC) is able to make it to the Vengeance, except for Esteban Bridges, who, despite Maricus' best attempts and completely dulling his sword, is unreachable. Many of the ship's staff die, caught in explosions or jettisoned into space, as Torrez just manages to keep the Collectors from hitting the key systems.
Once all the survivors who are able reach the escape pods or shuttle, they take off. As the Collectors begin to target the escape craft, the power core for the Valiant is jettisoned. The Collectors destroy the core, the resulting shockwave sending the now derelict frigate spinning away in a charred mass. The Collectors slice into the dead bulk with their primary weapon again, cutting the wreck nearly in half. At the same time, they begin powering their point-defense systems to eliminate the escaping shuttles and pods. Unable to help the escape pods while so outgunned, the shuttles escape into FTL.
Barely a moment later, a quartet of salarian frigates then drops out of FTL, accompanied by a pair of the newest generation of turian cruisers. Fighters launch from the arriving fleet, as all six of the craft target the Collector craft and begin firing their main weapons.
Outmatched, the Collectors go into FTL.
All that is left are a handful of escape pods, the charred and dead corpse of the Valiant, and a Citadel fleet, which immediately begins search and rescue operations.
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