The Gamemakers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gamemakers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-09-27 07:39 pm
gamemakers) wrote in thecapitol2013-09-27 07:39 pm
Entry tags:
- cassandra marko,
- commander shepard,
- harley quinn,
- sigma klim,
- terezi pyrope,
- the grand highblood,
- wesker,
- wyatt earp,
- ✘ andraia,
- ✘ armin arlert,
- ✘ azula,
- ✘ chris redfield,
- ✘ cinderella,
- ✘ homura akemi,
- ✘ howard bassem,
- ✘ ian gallagher,
- ✘ jack atlas,
- ✘ marius pontmercy,
- ✘ maximus,
- ✘ orc,
- ✘ peeta mellark,
- ✘ pepper potts,
- ✘ perry kelvin,
- ✘ pruna,
- ✘ shion,
- ✘ some ovmennet,
- ✘ the disciple
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Who| Everyone
What| A chance for the teams to meet, mingle, and, lets be honest, for goodbyes to be said.
Where| The common area.
When| Evening before the attack, about a day after Creuntus' network announcement.
Warnings/Notes| Time is going to be a littlemore wonky then normal, if you haven't noticed. They will be going out to attack "tomorrow" but that thread will not, likely, be posted tomorrow, to give people time to play in this one, etc.
There is food and drink, plenty of it, but no decoration, and it is clear this "party" is no sort of celebration. There is the small spattering of Peacekeepers still in the Capitol, those not on duty at the edge of the boundary.
A long table at the front has a set up for each team. Everyone has a folder with who is in their team, who is watching their team, a list of the various weapons they will have. On the list is a flame thrower, a handful of small explosives, and an automatic weapon for each team member. There are no weapons laid out for the Tributes to handle, however - those were waiting for them elsewhere, for when the mission truly started. Nor does the folder mention that the weapons all switch off outside of the combat area, but it's also not a secret, or a surprise.
Each folder also includes the rather useless stats and images they have of the creatures-the photos are blurry, the stats mainly stack up to "they are very deadly" and a collection of the various bits of information put forth by other tributes who seem to know more then the Capitol. Last, a detailed map of both the neighborhood, and the tunnels for them to study.
Another table has folders for the intel, with much of the same information. Last, a third table is set up for those that are staying at home. Those folders contain some basic first aid information, and a list with what sort of basic medical supplies and food stuff is in the training center.
Each table set up has an Avox or two to hand out the folders. Creuntus is no where to be seen, and you would be lucky to catch any of her team. She knows where she doesn't want to be. The furniture has been dragged to facilitate the conversation of small to medium sized groups. Say, about the size of a team and their Intel.
What| A chance for the teams to meet, mingle, and, lets be honest, for goodbyes to be said.
Where| The common area.
When| Evening before the attack, about a day after Creuntus' network announcement.
Warnings/Notes| Time is going to be a little
There is food and drink, plenty of it, but no decoration, and it is clear this "party" is no sort of celebration. There is the small spattering of Peacekeepers still in the Capitol, those not on duty at the edge of the boundary.
A long table at the front has a set up for each team. Everyone has a folder with who is in their team, who is watching their team, a list of the various weapons they will have. On the list is a flame thrower, a handful of small explosives, and an automatic weapon for each team member. There are no weapons laid out for the Tributes to handle, however - those were waiting for them elsewhere, for when the mission truly started. Nor does the folder mention that the weapons all switch off outside of the combat area, but it's also not a secret, or a surprise.
Each folder also includes the rather useless stats and images they have of the creatures-the photos are blurry, the stats mainly stack up to "they are very deadly" and a collection of the various bits of information put forth by other tributes who seem to know more then the Capitol. Last, a detailed map of both the neighborhood, and the tunnels for them to study.
Another table has folders for the intel, with much of the same information. Last, a third table is set up for those that are staying at home. Those folders contain some basic first aid information, and a list with what sort of basic medical supplies and food stuff is in the training center.
Each table set up has an Avox or two to hand out the folders. Creuntus is no where to be seen, and you would be lucky to catch any of her team. She knows where she doesn't want to be. The furniture has been dragged to facilitate the conversation of small to medium sized groups. Say, about the size of a team and their Intel.
Shepard | Group B, Team 6
"Just once, I'd like to have someone screw up, and then just fix their own damn problem," she muttered, examining the grainy security snapshot for the third time. It was the same as the rest; a loose formation of peacekeepers, a black blur if the camera had been quick enough, and then it was over almost before it had begun, and all that was left was blood and corpses. Given the circumstances, they should probably consider themselves lucky the damn things hadn't taken them alive, not that she would call that 'luck'.
But she's got her weapon preferences, a pile of information, and an open, intent expression for anyone approaching her little corner of the gathering, looking for particular faces, those assigned to her team and therefore, by her logic, under her command.
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"You have been fighting aliens before right?" She clambered onto the chair next to her, not bothering with a greeting.
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She would usually be given more details like this in a simple spying task or robbery, never mind killing aliens.
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Oh, they had to be kidding. But then, everything was a game to these people. If these teams had been assigned by any other logic than a coin-flip, she'd be surprised. That they'd accepted help from children in killing the deadly alien invaders was...
...Well, it was very Batarian of them. She shouldn't have been so surprised, but Pruna couldn't really be blamed. She'd done something incredibly stupid, but what else was she meant to do? There was a reason for age-of-consent laws.
"Nevermind. Here, this is what I've been able to figure is what they look like," she flipped the roster-sheet she'd been given and sketched out a rough estimate of a Xenomorph. It was awful, but it covered the basics— the limbs, the tail, and the teeth, "It looks like they hunt by stealth. Watch the tail, it looks prehensile, and be careful how you go at them. People are saying that they have acid-blood, and that'll cripple the hell out of you, if you're lucky."
What else? She remembered— Geth, lithe and stealthy, in the dark, clinging to structural beams for weeks or months as they waited for their targets to come by. Creeping through the gaps between pipes, leaping from nowhere.
"Don't forget to look up, people always forget the ceiling. And if you see any of their eggs, ask someone to kill them at a distance. Don't get too close, if they're anything like Rachni, then poking something you don't understand is all it'll take to get you killed. You got that?"
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She shook her head at the end, she had questions and at times like this, in briefings questions would always be answered. "I do no be understanding prehensile... and what do acid-blood be being?" The rest she understood, look everywhere, kill from a distance, that was what the guns were for she guessed.
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It was a terrible photo. The focus was off, and the camera had low resolution to begin with. The subject wasn't even centered in the frame! But more than that, he had a hole the size of his head, right in the middle of his chest. The picture had no color, but the black blotches weren't ketchup.
"It didn't do that with its hands. The tail is like another limb, has to be a weapon. Most people are going to get their heads around the way these things climb just in time to forget about the tails. Don't you be one of them."
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Re: Shepard | Group B, Team 6
"And I don't think pulling the Rank card's going to work with our group." Hey he could tell with her look she was going to try to play that card. "You give the order to retreat we'll follow, but I want this damn thing off." He showed her the band. "And if it means ignoring you to get the job done so be it."
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But a glance at his— uh...report, and she was a little more interested in what he had to say.
"You've got a certain amount to profit from this, I get that," perhaps he didn't quite grasp her position, or how things operated under Commander Shepard, "But let me make one thing clear. I'm going into an extremely dangerous fight against a virtually unknown enemy, and I'm doing it with a group of people I'd be hard-put to call acquaintances."
She paused, and tilted her head, gesturing to indicate the milling crowds of nervous people. The situation was less than ideal, in every way, he had to see that.
"So while I appreciate your uninformed opinion on how this is going to go, the fact is, if you can't at least pretend to fall in line, I'll shoot you myself," She'll do it, too. She's crazy, "We can't afford to have some hotshot leaving the rest of us open to attack because he's tired of his government-mandated jewelry."
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And despite the silly color coding and medium choice he had actually jotted down everything he could remember from the movies as well as approximate details on claws height and anything else he thought was of importance. It may look childish, but it was as detailed as he could make it. "Helps me collect my thoughts, trick I learned back in high school." He responded about the look.
"You're not the only one. And I'm not going to leave anyone of us behind out there. Once we're out side I'll be serious, until then, deal with how I deal with stress, beats me hitting one of our hosts."
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Shepard is deadly serious, even with what looks like a coloring book in her hands. After a long stare, she glances over at Cruentus, smiling behind her table.
"...as for our Hosts...I'd call that assessment a matter of opinion."
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She knew better than to express that sentiment out loud, though. The people in charge weren't the high-bloods she knew, but that didn't make them any less dangerous as far as she was concerned.
"I don't think they were really thinking that far ahead," she answered Shepard's comment with a vague sort of shrug. "Which is maybe a little unfurtunate."
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"You're..." It was a short list, and the description was clear; only one Alternian Troll on this team, "Nepeta?"
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"That's me," she answered with a nod.
sorry about the delay, I got distracted
But there was no hope for it, and she'd volunteered. Well, fine. Shepard took a moment to hold the bitterness of this whole mess on her tongue, blinked slowly, and swallowed it. Feelings were irrelevant.
"Alright, Nepeta. What can you do that makes you think you're up for this mission?" Because there was no shortage of weird going around, by the looks of it,"Can you shoot? Combat training? Anything?"
no worries. I'm super late myself
"I think growing up on Alternia is purretty much combat training," she answered after a moment. "But I know what to do with a bow and I was using a crossbow last arena, so I should be able to manage a gun. Meowstly I fight hand to hand though."
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He looked up, assessing his teammate. "You're military, right?"
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