Post by extermatott on Jun 4, 2011 19:07:46 GMT -5
Day 7
Councillor Melding found himself pinned down by hostile fire, ruining the concentration that might have otherwise saved his life. He huddled down at the edge of the balcony, acutely aware of how surrounding apartments were being churned up by the stray rounds.
"You don't stand a chance!" Melding yelled out defiantly. "The mech is coming for you! Is that all you got?"
"No," Phyphor shouted from the balcony opposite. "We also have tactical supremacy, sheer luck, and two-hundred pounds of explosives."
A strange expression crossed Melding's face in the split-second it took Phyphor to press the detonator. Less an assassination than a demolition; the entire block collapsed in on itself in a dirty fireball.
Phyphor could hear a rhythmic series of floor-shaking creaks approaching from behind. The mech was almost upon him.
Let it come. He feared no death...
"HAVE YOU HEARD THE JOKE ABOUT THE FUSION CANNON AND THE FLAMMABLE HUMAN?"
"I know what you are!" Spoit spat. "You goddamn terrorist. You scum killed my best friend!"
Peccavi blew the telepath's brain apart and carried on running. He made it all the way to a conveniently unguarded shuttle when he heard a voice in his ear.
"I'm still not entirely sure why you people bother trying to escape."
"THE JOKE IS THAT YOU ARE EASY TO SET ON FIRE."
Night 6 Casualties
Spoit, a Reader Telepath, psionic wrath
Stew_Stick, the Expert, mindblasted
Darian, a Medic, multiple hits
Phyphor, part of the Exigent Organisation, struck by a union of psionic attacks (and then the robot got him)
Melding, the Healer Emapth, part of the High Council, made vulnerable and then assassinated
Peccavi, the Arcadian Commando, had a busy night before [CLASSIFIED]
THE EXIGENT ORGANISATION HAS BEEN ELIMINATED.
BUT THE GAME IS NOT YET OVER...
Councillor Melding found himself pinned down by hostile fire, ruining the concentration that might have otherwise saved his life. He huddled down at the edge of the balcony, acutely aware of how surrounding apartments were being churned up by the stray rounds.
"You don't stand a chance!" Melding yelled out defiantly. "The mech is coming for you! Is that all you got?"
"No," Phyphor shouted from the balcony opposite. "We also have tactical supremacy, sheer luck, and two-hundred pounds of explosives."
A strange expression crossed Melding's face in the split-second it took Phyphor to press the detonator. Less an assassination than a demolition; the entire block collapsed in on itself in a dirty fireball.
Phyphor could hear a rhythmic series of floor-shaking creaks approaching from behind. The mech was almost upon him.
Let it come. He feared no death...
"HAVE YOU HEARD THE JOKE ABOUT THE FUSION CANNON AND THE FLAMMABLE HUMAN?"
--- --- ---
"I know what you are!" Spoit spat. "You goddamn terrorist. You scum killed my best friend!"
Peccavi blew the telepath's brain apart and carried on running. He made it all the way to a conveniently unguarded shuttle when he heard a voice in his ear.
"I'm still not entirely sure why you people bother trying to escape."
--- --- ---
"THE JOKE IS THAT YOU ARE EASY TO SET ON FIRE."
Night 6 Casualties
Spoit, a Reader Telepath, psionic wrath
Stew_Stick, the Expert, mindblasted
Darian, a Medic, multiple hits
Phyphor, part of the Exigent Organisation, struck by a union of psionic attacks (and then the robot got him)
Melding, the Healer Emapth, part of the High Council, made vulnerable and then assassinated
Peccavi, the Arcadian Commando, had a busy night before [CLASSIFIED]
THE EXIGENT ORGANISATION HAS BEEN ELIMINATED.
BUT THE GAME IS NOT YET OVER...