[Main Chapter] Breakout!

Resistance Plot: Prison Break. Serro won't leave a good man behind...

The capital city of Anaxas and the seat of the government.
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Raksha
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Sun Jan 13, 2019 5:09 am

5th Dentis, 2718
VIENDA GAOL | ONE HOUSE PAST MIDNIGHT
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Serro’s single eye shot up, looking at the gun Gale offered and grabbing it without hesitation.

“Left, you right! Got it!” He shouted, lifting both guns and looking down in the yard. Focusing on the left guard still moving towards Ginny and Cypruss, the older man aimed for the torso and shot twice from both hands. Bang, bang!

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SidekickBOT Today at 20:11 (Serro)
Raksha: `2d6` = (3+4) = 7
Serro first shot, so so, in the shoulder.
Serro second shot, in the ribs.
The Seventen stumbled with the first shot, grasping at her shoulder with a shout, her field dithering like water between ones fingers. There wasn’t to see who shot her as Serro’s second bullet plowed through her chest, breaking ribs and puncturing lung. She dropped to her knees, blood spraying from her mouth as she coughed for air that she would never get.
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SidekickBOTToday at 20:04 (Gale)
Raksha: 3d6 = (3+1+2) = 6
Gale first shot, so so, in the stomach.
Gales second shot, miserable.
Gales third shot, graze across the outer side of the neck.
Gale’s first shot rang out, taking the caster in the stomach. Immediately the Crow lurched and Red swore, wincing as the Seventen below brailed their casting. Around the area, it was like a cold swept across the yard and brushed the outskirts of the ship as the mona protested the breaking of the spell, fleeing the area entirely.

“Ahhh my clocking head, shit! Shit hold on we need to get back out of the brail range.” She growled, snapping back on the inner workings and controlled with a hasty pull spell. They shuddered backwards just as Gales second shot rang out. It barely grazed the officers thigh as they stood vomiting from the pain of both the first shot and the brail. The ladder moved back, too high for the trio below to reach it from the yard. They would have to climb the wall now to get to it. Gales third shot exploded in a burst of flame and smoke, the rounded bullet passing through the outer side of the Seventen’s neck, where he grabbed at the wound with wide eyes.

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SidekickBOT Today at 20:05 (Cypress)
Raksha: `3d6` = (6+6+6) = 18
SidekickBOT Today at 20:14 (Seventen counter)
Raksha: 2d6 = (3+6) = 9
Cypress dagger to the knee, Seventen counter failed (3), perfect slice.
Cypress kick to the chest, perfect however equally countered by the Seventen (6)
Cypress dagger to the others stomach. death for the officer.
The two Seventen coming for Ginny and Cypress had been gathering to cast, thwarted by the brail with a grimace and a cry. The first tried to dodge the assassin’s dagger to the knee but Cypress’ skill outmatched her and with a scream of pain she came crashing down on one side. The kick however, was matched by a quick lift of an arm, blocking the woman with a grunt and a curse. He did however fall to his injured side.

“You’ll be made for this bitch!” He growled, reaching for his baton even as fear was echoed in his eyes as he watched her race past him to his colleague. Without the mona, the Seventen were at an extreme disadvantage. The officer didn’t even see her, wide eyed and ears ringing from the brail, blood trickling from his ears. Her blade would slide cold into warm flesh, drawing a shocked gasp from the galdor.

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SidekickBOT Today at 20:29 (Ginny)
Raksha: `d6` = (4) = 4
Ginny explosion okay but only just.
“DUCK!” Ginny cried, throwing herself to the ground with her hands over her ears, seconds before the dynamite she’d planted exploded with an all-mighty cracckkaBOOM! It shook the very earth, and the two on the ground would be showered in debris as the wall blew out. Lifting her head, the red haired wick screamed in anguish as she slowly saw her handy work. The wall had blown out mostly, but it was still somewhat intact. Stu would have to climb over the rubble that remained to reach them.

“Bull! Bull ye bastard get here!” She cried, without consideration of her own safety as she clambered the wall to reach him. The large brown haired man stood covered in rock dust, his forehead oozing fresh bright red blood over the top of it, reaching for her tiny hand.

“Gin…you clocking idiots.” He coughed, dragging himself up as best he could and falling over the other side with a groan. Ginny bent to help him to his feet, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

“Help me rosh! We gotta get up the wall!” She would begin to drag the man, far to big for her to help on her own for long, towards a ladder on the far wall that would let them reach the one that hung from the airship. Across the prison, a loud siren wailed over and over, one being turned by a hand crank within the guard room, calling for backup and alerting an escape. Those in the aeroship would hear it, but not those in the yard. Their ears would be ringing, deaf to everything for a while. They would make it up the wall and onto the lower rungs of the ladder, before another sound would alert the crew on the Crow.

It was the sound of engines in the sky.

From within the ship, Serro withdrew from the window and gestured wildly at Red.

“Up! Up they’re on the ladder! We gotta go, we gotta go NOW RED NOW!” He lept to the ladder that went up to where Francis waited, all but bashing the hatch open and dragging himself up on the roof.

“Winch Hammer! Bring them home! Bring them home! We got company so move FAST and hold on TIGHT!” As he spoke, the great black ship began to turn swiftly, swinging the rope ladder around in a wide arc as it did. Red grit her teeth, taking them at speed higher and further from the gaol. Even so, two larger ships loomed from the darkness above towards them, dressed in the forest greens of the Seventen uniform.

The chase was on.

Clinging to the hatch of the roof, Serro called down through the hatch.

“Gunner! The one on the left, it’s coming up fast, aim for the rudder if you can or the propellers once it gets close. We need to slow it down. Hawkes ships should meet us between Vienda and Old Rose but we gotta fucking make it there!”

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You have two aeroships coming down from above. The one of the left is Gales target. His timing will be important here. Too far away and the bullet won't reach. Too close and the Seventen will have time to cast.

Francis will need to bring the trio up onto the roof, and avoid slipping off the ship. There will be high winds and a decent amount of movement.

Sednai, Ginny and Stu need to hold onto that ladder for dear life. It is swinging mid air, and Stu is very weak. Sednai needs to ensure he doesn't loose his grip.


word count: 1316

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Gale
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Wed Jan 30, 2019 6:36 am

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VIENDA GAOL | ONE HOUSE PAST MIDNIGHT
5 DENTIS 2718
Weak.

It was a single word that clawed from their feet. An icy shock that laced up through their veins, racing up into their stomach. They could not see the end result, not really – but the mind performed the scene vividly in their mind. The screams, the spray of gore as bodies crumpled. What was normally seen as some authority was instead little more than a crumpled mess as screams were muffled behind the roar of engines.

Nothing but weak.

The Gunsmith stared down the length of the barrel, the arm trembling as their jaw grew slack. Colour seeped from their face, eyes growing wide – but it was the mask that hid the growing sense of terror. The pulse blared, the lines blurring as their own nausea began to take route. It bloomed, the awareness of their own breath growing thick and heavy, the shouted voices growing muted. Distant, the jaw set into a line, eyes looking down to Liberator as the vessel burst into life. Their shoulder pressed against the side, wrist tilting the firearm in their grip.

It was heavier than they remembered.

Gunner breathed to themselves, “I said, shut up.”

The head turned upwards to Serro as he shouted down his orders. There looming in the distance came the ship, a behemoth of the sky that whirled closer. It seemed like a much better target, easier in some regards – there was no blood, no life or loss. The left, he said the left. The gunsmith shifted to that side of the vessel, opening the hatch as the one that was making its speedy approach.

It became an instance of mathematics then.

Distance was one, second was allowing for some element of curvature due to winds. The gunsmith was by far an expert shooter – but they knew their firearms. Rifling would aim with maintaining accuracy, but the high winds would easily knock the shot off course. Distance too. They remembered its effective range being fifty or so yards. Any further – which the airship current was – meant more risk of it potentially straying. And that was before the worry of gravity came into play, shooting up was never easy.

Tilting back the mask so they could see clearer, the exposed skin chill against the air they took their stance. Left beneath, arms bent as they supported the firearm. They peered at the approaching piece, firstly aiming down the barrel at the mentioned rudder. Eyes squinted, they raised the barrel an inch upwards – the angle steeper – before turning it so it was another inch in front of the rudder. The hammer came back, the click sounding as they aimed.

Closer. In five. Four. Three.

Gunner swallowed.

Two. One.

The shot fired, rattling out of liberator while the scent of smoke chased after it. The angle tilted and changed slightly. Cylinder rotating, hammer cocked, and another shot rattling out.

Final shot. They kept their aim, before releasing the sixth shot. They followed after it, peering into the gloom before withdrawing. Ducking down out of sight, they began to unscrew the chamber of Liberator and tipped the remains of the casing out onto the floor.

“Reloading!”
word count: 533
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

Saunders' Forge | Bear's Journal
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Francis Pusher
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Wed Jan 30, 2019 7:08 am

05 Dentis 2718
Hammer let out a curse at just how quickly it all seemed to be happening even as he kept himself stable by holding onto the winch as he got to his feet, wind slamming into his body and threatening him to a messy death if he gave even one inch to. Eyes looked down towards the forms of the rescue team and the one rescued, his fingers worked frantically as his he worked to pull out the pin keeping the winch handle fixed in place. His leg slipped and he found himself cursing as held onto the handle for dear life, wind batting at his face as he pulled himself upwards back to his two legs.

The sound of Serro bursting through the hatch and yelling at him to get a move was far from what he needed he felt as he called back “I got two clockin’ eyes, I KNOW!” His hands began to work, turning the winch as it began to rais up the rope, letting out a creaking sound muffled by the sound of the wind yet Francis felt he could hear it all the same, it not different from some of the tools used back in the warehouses. As the ship moved he tossed himself at the winch to hug to keep steady again before resuming, most certainly not envious of those having to climb it, combatted by a feeling of dread what would happen should he not pull them up on time as he took a firmer grip and began turning the winch as fast as he reasonably could.

He tried to look for a bright side in this, it felt really difficult the moment what with all that was going on but if anything it was moral he needed if he was going to see this all through. Why oh why did he decide to be a good fellow and follow a group of people thinking it was just common folk in need only for it to turn out to be the resistance plotting some mad scheme break out for their fellow man? A scheme that somehow involved using an airship of all things and now he was many many feet in the air trying to get a good footing else he went splat?

With an bemused raise of the brow Hammer realized what was the bright side in this after all as he turned the winch, the spool starting gain weight with each length of the rope ladder. Indeed, if there was any upside to this is that they weren’t dead yet and Uncles be damned if he’d let them gollies caused ‘em to go splat!
word count: 448
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Sednai
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Sun Feb 10, 2019 9:47 pm

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05 Dentis 2718....Minutes. Cypress had slid down the ladder, seen Stu's head peek out at the pair, watched Ginny set the charges, incapacitated two Seventen in, and been consumed by the dust of the explosion all in a few minutes. She was sputtering now, choking as the dust of the collapsed wall stung her eyes, stung her trachea, stung her lungs. Involuntary tears struck trails down her face, but there was no time to close her eyes, no time to rub away the debris. Ginny and Stu stumbled over the rubble, and Cypress rushed to wrap her arm around Stu's other side and hurry him towards the ladder.

Across the yard, up the wall, latched onto the ladder, and they were there, escaping, somehow all surviving well at least through part 1 of their escapade. Their joiner for part 2, however, looked frighteningly rough as the ship began to ascend.

Stu, slightly above Cypress on the other side of the rope ladder, bled from his head. His body screamed of its weariness as it clung to the lifeline of the ladder desperately. The likelihood of him hanging on as the ride got wilder was far too low, and Cypress needed to act before the ladder truly began to whip them around.

Cypress ascended the ladder carefully, watching each hand and foot to ensure it grabbed the moving target of the ladder before moving the next. After a short ascent, Stu was across the window of the rungs of the ladder from her, weary, burdened, and in need of rest, in need of some assurance that he would stay attached to that damned ladder for whatever air battle followed. She needed something to attach his hands to the thing, even if he wasn't willing it, and she had very limited resources: a coat, and the daggers tucked into her-

belt. It was a thin, wide sash of a belt, tied over a long, canvas shirt and holding her daggers against her torso. It was nearly impossible to communicate with the wind and the rudders, so she only hoped Stu would trust her. She wrapped her left hand in a loose rung and reluctantly released the ladder with her right. She pulled out her daggers and tucked them into the pockets of her coat, then clumsily undid the belt. It fluttered in the wind, and she held it tightly as she grabbed the ladder again and readjusted. She hooked her elbows around the sides of the ladder, clutched the end of the belt in her hands, and, looking Stu in the eye, attempted to communicate over the chaos.

"Just trust me! It's to keep you safe!"

Her hair whipped around her. She wrapped the belt around right wrist several times before securing it with a tight knot, then moved to his left. It would hold, at least long enough for her to make a decision if he started to slip. She was as close to him as she could afford on the thin ladder, and hoped she'd be able to prevent as much as she was able to without dying, and hoped it would be a short ride.
word count: 553

BURNED, NOT BURIED.
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