Mission 2: And I thought they smelled bad on the outside!

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> Days go by. Slow ones for Lagoon Company, as work seems sparse in the week following their first job. The trio can spend their time following gossip and rumors, but Pendleton isn't the most exciting place in the galaxy: news trickles in about the latest round of political infighting over tariffs and gate tolls; a starship battle on the other side of the Coleille gate; a fluff piece on a doomsday cult on another world is curious but--(more)
<El-Cideon> --but has no real relevance for affairs on Wellington. Finally, on Wednesday, the company receives not one, but two inquiries! One is from a local woman seeking an investigator to find her husband (whether he wants to be found or not); the other is from a well-dressed, handsome young man who wouldn't state the nature of his business over the phone (usually an indicator that whatever services he requires are less than legal).
<El-Cideon> The former indicated that it was a pressing matter, though of course the company is free to address these inquiries in whatever manner they like.
<Targo> "Matrimonal conflict? Or a mystery agenda? We can probably handle both. I'll see if they can come in today, maybe a couple of hours apart." Targo reaches for the phone, checking his omnipresent datapad for the facts. "I bet he wants something stolen. They always want something stolen."
<El-Cideon> The young man's request was indeed quite vague; he said he wouldn't go into detail except in person.
<Wilhelmina> "Or killed," Wilhelmina mentions.
<Forrest> "Probably killed, yeah," Forrest echoes. "Not like any of us are cat-burglars."
<Targo> "If he's comfortable hiring a group he's never worked with before for murder, then... he must have talked to someone who either likes us, or hates us," he considers, redialing the man's number.
<Forrest> "Worked for Mr Brewer," Forrest shrugs, sitting on one of the desks nearby while Targo makes the call.
<El-Cideon> It's a while before anyone answers the phone. When someone finally speaks, it sounds as the he's just woken up (despite it closing in on noon in Pendleton). There's a muffled "Hello?" then a pause, and: "Oh, the agency. I said I wanted to sort things out in person."
<El-Cideon> *as though
<Targo> "I am aware of that. This is about your appointment," replies Silver, rolling his eyes. "Are you intending to drop by today?"
<El-Cideon> "I can, yeah. What time are you free? I've, uh, I've got an empty schedule, myself."
<Targo> "Eleven should be suitable, and you have our address, yes? We'll see you then," replies Targo.
<El-Cideon> "Sure thing," he says, hanging up without another word.
<Targo> OOC: It's closing on noon? Gah, I probably mean like 2 or something, then
<Targo> OOC: Must pay attention! Anyhow
<El-Cideon> OOC: Indeed, you mean ~2. >.>
<Wilhelmina> "That's one," Wilhelmina notes, leaning back in the chair. "Gonna call the other?"
<Targo> "And now for the lady. I do wonder if it's to do with love or hate- you can't ever tell with marriage," continues Targo, inputing her number and intent on making a similar arrangement.
<Wilhelmina> "Hate."
<El-Cideon> "Hello?" someone answers. The voice is soft and subdued. "Oh yes, Lagoon Company. I see you got my message."
<Forrest> "Prob'ly ran off with anoth-" Forrest begins before shutting up as the phone is answered.
<Targo> "That's right, this is Lagoon. It was about your missing husband, correct? If you're free at around three o'clock this afternoon, we'd be happy to discuss the finer points with you," replies Targo, all cheeriness and smiles (they've really got to see about installing the holoprojectors, so their clients can fully see the honesty written across his face.)
<El-Cideon> "Of course. I'll see you then, thanks."
* Targo says his goodbyes and hangs up, shrugging. "Alright. Do we all remember what to do when a new client walks in?" he asks, swivelling to face his companions.
<Forrest> "Smile!" Forrest replies with a big shit-eating grin.
<Wilhelmina> "Not target them?" Wilhelmina asks, sounding uncertain.
<Targo> "That's right!" congratulates Targo, nodding. "Like I said, they won't be here for a couple of hours, so our holiday lasts a bit longer."
<El-Cideon> Despite his lazy demeanor over the phone, the young man shows up right on time. He's dressed in something like business casual: expensive-looking slacks, button-up shirt and jacket. He seems like he should be applying for an entry-level job in office somewhere, really. He is good-looking, at least!
<Forrest> "Welcome to the Lagoon Company," Forrest gives him a big smile as he wipes his hand on his pants briefly before offering it in a handshake. "We're here fer all your private security needs."
<El-Cideon> The young man is polite enough, shaking Forrest's hand. "Heya," he says, nodding and looking over the group. He seems unsure of how to behave in the company of hired guns.
<Targo> "Emphasis on private, security, or needs as you choose," adds in Targo. "So, we'll get right to it, shall we? What's the problem facing you, Mr..."
* Wilhelmina pretty much ignores the client for all appearances, though she does listen in.
<El-Cideon> He shrugs, meeting Targo's gaze. "Uh, Snopes. John Snopes. Well, it's not so much that I need security myself as it is that I need to get past someone else's, is the thing." He's quick to raise his hands in supplication. "And I totally understand if you don't do that sort of thing, and I can just leave. But, I'd rather not."
<Targo> "Well, that depends, doesn't it?" responds Targo, raising an eyebrow. "We do deal with security from many different angles. Perhaps if you told us the nature of your concerns?"
<El-PlusOneCideon> He is visibly relieved that you're not throwing him out into the street. "Okay. I need to get back inside a place I used to live. I say 'used to' because I'm not exactly on speaking terms with the actual owner of the house anymore and she won't let me in. Fine, it's her house, but I left a number of personal items there that...well, it would be best if I got them back before anyone looked too closely at them."
<Forrest> roll 1d20+13 bullshit sense
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+13 1,0bullshit sense --> 6,0[ 1d20=16 ]4,0{29}
<Forrest> "So what was your relationship with this person?" Forrest asks, getting the feeling there's more to this than he's letting on.
<El-Cideon> He peers at Forrest, obviously not enthused about going into detail on this subject. "We were, you know, intimate. And now she's got someone else. I'm not real comfortable going into it if you don't need to know."
<Targo> "So. What would it be that you need appropriated?" continues Targo, musing over the odd turn of events. "We'll need details on that, and of what you know about the security in the house itself."
<Forrest> "So... basically, you and some girl were knockin' boots. She hitches up with some other feller. And now you want someone to break into her house and recover some of your belongings that were left there? Have I covered all the bases? Why not just get the police to handle it if the the stuff belongs to you?"
<El-Cideon> A shrug. "Well, I know what it is," he says, sounding defensive. "I figure that's enough. Just get me inside and I'll grab the container and you don't have to worry about what's inside. I can help you with the security, though. It's a posh place. Perimeter wall, electronic lock on the gate, security system inside...couple dogs in the yard, too. Not little foofy dogs. Mean ones."
* Targo glances at Forrest, and then pointedly back at the kid, expecting the question to be answered.
<El-Cideon> He frowns. "It's nothing I want the police asking about, is the point," he adds, somewhat desperately.
<Targo> "It's rather unusual, playing escort in such a fashion," muses Targo. "But I think we might be able to do business. We should be able to find some time, oh, tomorrow evening, I suppose? Five-thousand credits on successful completion of the mission should be sufficient."
<El-Cideon> A nod, and clear relief. "Okay. I can swing five thousand. I was gonna say forty-five hundred, but that's fine. You've gotta make sure she's not there first, though. And I'm not privy to her schedule these days."
<Targo> "Can you give us the details of the house, please?" asks Targo, handing the kid a datapad. "Address, phone number, all of that. We'll work out the details before our next meeting."
<El-Cideon> Another nod. He accepts the datapad and scribbles on it for a moment. His handwriting is rather plain and sterile. The phone number is not one you recognize, but the address is in a classy neighborhood not far from city hall.
* Targo puts the pad away. "Alright. We'll contact you if something comes up," he remarks. "Ah, one more question. She, her boyfriend, the dogs... they're the only inhabitants, yes?"
<El-Cideon> "Should be," he says. "She doesn't like having more than one guest around."
<Targo> "Very well. If that's all, then, we'll see you later."
<El-Cideon> He makes a bland farewell and leaves, seemingly glad to have the whole ordeal over with.
<Wilhelmina> "So how much of that was a lie?" Wilhelmina asks bluntly once the client is gone.
<Forrest> "I think he was prob'ly tellin' the truth. What he actually told us, anyhow," Forrest muses, scratching his stubble-covered chin. "Don't reckon this sort of job is good for business, though. Too much chance of legal issues."
<Wilhelmina> "If it's something he can't go to the police over, our target couldn't, either."
<Forrest> "Maybe not after the fact, but what if somethin' goes wrong during the job and the police show up then?" Forrest replies. "Not sayin' it can't be done, but we shouldn't ignore the complications."
<Targo> "Unless we're caught in the act," clarifies Targo. "I didn't expect the house to be so close to the city centre, I must admit. Forrest is right, if something goes wrong, it'll be troublesome." OOC: IS there, like, street security? Cameras and such?
* Wilhelmina shrugs. "We charge extra?"
<El-Cideon> OOC: No, nothing that involved.
<Wilhelmina> "We can get into their system, or crash it altogether. That just leaves the dogs."
<Targo> "We do, if something unexpected shows up," replies Targo. "I don't think it would be too hard. If we keep an eye on when she's in and out the house, then getting in when she's not there will be simple. Wilhelmina can deal with the house security... the only concern is the dogs. Never liked tangling with dogs." He taps a pen against the desk. (More.)
<Targo> "Consider it a thought experiment on how to bypass them. Blasters set to stun? Throwing them some meat? As long as the chance of failure is virtually nil, then the considerable legal threat should.. never come up."
<Wilhelmina> "Drugged meat. Let's try that."
<Forrest> "Seems simple enough," Forrest agrees readily.
<El-Cideon> The chatter winds down after that, and soon enough the next client shows up. Siglinde Albert is a haggard-looking woman somewhere in her forties, to judge by appearances. She's dressed quite austerely, and has her black hair tied back in a braid. "Hello," she says politely upon entering.
<Targo> "Hello! Welcome to Lagoon Company," greets Targo. "Mrs. Albert, yes? Take a seat."
* Wilhelmina nods curtly at the woman, for her part.
<Forrest> "Pleased ta meetcha!" Forrest grins, pulling out a chair for their client.
<El-Cideon> She's quick to take the seat, sitting down primly and smiling at Forrest. "Thank you. Now, I told you a bit over the phone, didn't I? My husband embarked on one of his periodic trips to the north last week. He was due back two days ago, but hasn't returned."(more)
<El-Cideon> "I've received no calls and he doesn't answer his own phone. I'm forced to conclude that either something unfortunate happened to him or he decided he had nothing to come back to. I'd like to know for sure either way."
* Targo winces. "We'll certainly do our best to locate him," he affirms. "Does he travel north for business or pleasure?"
<El-Cideon> "Bit of both," she says. "Avid hunter, but he's also an executive for one of the big conglomerates and they need him on-site sometimes."
* Targo glances at Forrest; he's the expert in this sort of thing!
<Forrest> "Why would he think he has nothing to come back to, though?" Forrest asks, walking around the table to face Mrs Albert. "Has he been depressed or anything?"
<El-Cideon> She sighs. "I don't see any point dancing around it. We've had marital troubles before, and it wouldn't surprise me if he's found another young thing to distract him. The last scandal was unpleasant enough; if he's at it again, I want the ones investigating it to be someone who can be paid to be discreet about it."
<Forrest> "Well, if yer husband has been hurt or is in trouble, we'll sure bring him back. If he's left like that though, I don't rightly think we can do more than tell you where he is - we're not marriage counsellors, after all," Forrest admits honestly.
<Targo> "We'll certainly be discreet about it, though," interjects Targo. "Can you tell us a little about him? His name, what he does at work..."
<El-Cideon> A nod. "That's fair enough." She manages a grim smile. "But I can't rightly send him the divorce papers if I don't know where he is," she adds. To Targo: "Oh, yes." She produces a holoprojector and places it on the desk. (more)
<El-Cideon> A picture *blips* into life, showing a portrait of a finely-chiseled male face with a trim beard and mustache, and artfully tousled brown hair. The subject was probably going for the rugged look. "He works for Delasque. They're kind of...intermediaries, facilitating interactions between the offworld corps and the locals here."
<Targo> "A job with certain pressures inherent to it. I suspect they would be quite concerned about his whereabouts as well," reflects Targo, rummaging around in his desk. "Could you indicate a few of his usual hunting grounds for us? Has he ever come home with an injury before?"
<Forrest> "And does he hunt alone or with others?" Forrest adds.
<El-Cideon> "No, he hasn't," she says to Targo. "And he favored somewhere west of Pike, I believe. You can ask around there for the more popular locations. I confess that it's not a passion I ever shared. And he preferred to go alone, I know that much."
<Targo> "We'll go there and see if he's been seen at all," agrees Targo. "What sort of transport did he use to get up there?"
<El-Cideon> "He has his own aircar. It's a recent Artemus model. Red, of course."
<Targo> "Alright. That should be enough to find him, one way or the other. I think two thousand credits will suffice," sets out Targo, given that the job involved neither shooting at people nor actions of questionable legality.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, that's less than I'd thought," she says. "Thank you. I hope you can set out soon. I'd like the matter cleared up, one way or another."
<Forrest> "What, specifically, did he like to hunt?" Forrest asks, since that could possibly help in tracking him down.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, whatever made the best trophy," she deadpans, standing up. "I'm not an expert on local wildlife. We've only been here a couple years. Something called longhorn, I think, was the main attraction. I don't know if that's the actual name of the animal, though."
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9 knowledge (life sciences) what's a longhorn?
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+9 1,0knowledge (life sciences) what's a longhorn? --> 6,0[ 1d20=11 ]4,0{20}
<Forrest> "Oh, yeah. They're not dangerous," Forrest nods. "Course, there's lots of other animals out there that are, so that don't mean too much. But we can check out the hunting spots for Longhorn, see if anythin' turns up."
<El-Cideon> She nods one last time and heads for the door. "Thank you. You have my number, so do call me as soon as you know anything."
<Targo> "Of course. And do call us if he makes his way home in the end," adds Targo, smiling.
<El-Cideon> "Of course," she add in parting.
* Targo stretches once she's left the building. "Seems nice," he remarks, glancing at the map to see how long it'd take to get down to the hunting area. "Think we might head down to the grounds, see what it's all about. Must be a regular thereabouts, after all. Think you can check up on his company, Wil?"
* Wilhelmina shrugs. "I'll ask Adelaide to look around."
<Targo> "We'll sort her out first, then worry about the kid, if he's still around to worry about," he decides, standing up. "Just how dangerous is the wildlife around here, Forrest?"
* Forrest peers over Targo's shoulder to also look at the map. "Doubt he's run off, unless he's also having trouble with his job as well," he muses.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9 local wildlife of the dangerous sort
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+9 1,0local wildlife of the dangerous sort --> 6,0[ 1d20=4 ]4,0{13}
<Forrest> "Big dogs, kinda like wolves," Forrest adds. "They'd go after someone out on his own, sure enough."
<Targo> "They come at him in a pack, I'm guessing one guy would go down," muses Targo. "His job is a pretty stressful one, and the consequences of screwing something up could get pretty bad, I think. I might go ask around, see what Delasque has been up to before we leave."
<El-Cideon> OOC: Feel free to make a GI check, Targo.
<Targo> roll 1d20+9 taking ten is for wimps (unless your life is on the line)
<Rei-chan> 6,0Targo rolled :6,0 1d20+9 1,0taking ten is for wimps (unless your life is on the line) --> 6,0[ 1d20=9 ]4,0{18}
<Targo> OOC: stfu rei
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+14
<Rei-chan> 6,0Wilhelmina rolled :6,0 1d20+14 --> 6,0[ 1d20=15 ]4,0{29}
<Wilhelmina> "Labor disputes around Pike," Wilhelmina is able to state a while later. "He handles them. Very rich. We probably undercharged."
<Forrest> "Ahh. Union troubles," Forrest nods knowingly. "We'll probably have to fish him out from under a pier."
<Wilhelmina> "We still get paid for returning the corpse," Wilhelmina returns indifferently.
<Wilhelmina> "So. Going on a field trip to Pike?"
<Targo> "Don't see why not," responds Targo. "Bit rash of the union mob if they really did do something to him. Delasque is rather influential," adds Targo. "You'd want to be on their good side if you're a laborer." (More.)
<Targo> He chews his lip, rather thoughtfully. "Unless they'd already be shafting the miners- I'm guessing it's mining? No other real industry around here... anyway, yeah, let's go. Shouldn't be too hard to figure out what's going on. You didn't happen to get any of his contacts down there, did you?"
<Wilhelmina> "I don't think he even has one. He visits there a lot, he must know the people." Wilhelmina scowls. "How stupid and pointless. We'll just ask at the local office."
<El-Cideon> The ride north is an uneventful one, with the trio having ample time to admire the sparkle of sunlight on the lake (if they're so inclined). Pike proves a thoroughly utilitarian town, half the size of Pendleton and without much personality. Most of it is composed of small corporate offices, block housing for workers, warehouses for equipment and so on. The Delasque office isn't hard to find.(more)
<El-Cideon> They have a suite in a generic office stack overlooking the lake. The reception area is decorated all in green and gray, with subdued lighting and comfy sofas. It seem slike a good place for a nap. The receptionist behind the wide front desk is a young man who looks far too cheerful for someone working a thankless job on Wellington.
<Targo> "Hello!" greets Targo, swaggering into the room with an equally cheerful disposition. "Do you know if Mr. Albert is here at the moment?"
* Wilhelmina is briefly tempted to kidnap the receptionish for ransom, but in the end leaves negotiations to Targo.
<El-Cideon> He looks up from his computer. "No, I'm afraid not. Were you expecting to meet him here? I thought he'd left town several days ago. Wrapped up his meetings with Arco and headed off for vacation or something. Would you like to leave him a message?"
<Targo> Targo shakes his head. "No, it's alright, I'll just give him a call on my own later- wasn't sure if he'd left already, that's all. Did the meetings go well?"
<El-Cideon> He shrugs. "Well, they don't tell me everything. I'm just a lowly receptionist. But he seemed to be in a good mood the last time I saw him, and I've heard less grumbling about security since then. Well, except from the police, but there wouldn't have been a problem in the first place if they were doing their jobs right, if you ask me."
<Targo> "There were problems?" asks Targo, blinking. "The police aren't too on-the-ball with these disputes, I'll admit, but it does seem a bit rich to complain about 'em later..."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, you didn't hear? Been a spike in banditry lately. Someone preying on the miners when they're off-duty, out of the city and such. Got the workers riled up because the corps only feel obliged to protect their ore shipments. Mr. Albert convinced them to shell out for some extra security to placate the men. Wouldn't have been needed in the first place if the cops had just caught the bastards doing it, though."
<Targo> "I guess that's why nobody relies on cops for their safety, these days," says Targo, with a sigh. "Funny that they're targeting the miners, though."
<El-Cideon> He shrugs. "I guess it makes sense to a lowlife. Don't ask me to try and understand how someone like that thinks. Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?"
<Targo> "No, that's all. Thanks for your help," returns Targo, heading back to the truck.
<Targo> Once there, he turns to the others. "Can't see the unions being upset with him after a ruling in their favour. Shall we head down to the hunting grounds and see if we can't find a trace of him thereabouts?"
<Forrest> "Can start with that," Forrest agrees. "Lot of ground to cover, though. Unless we find his car or something as a starting point, it won't be easy to find him in the wilderness."
<El-Cideon> OOC: Roll GI for likely sites if you want.
<Wilhelmina> "If they like him that much, want to ask someone from the unions?" Wilhelmina proposes. "Maybe they suggested some new spot to him."
<Targo> "Sure. I'll ask around a few places," agrees Targo, heading out to hit the street, walk the beat, and get to meet some great new peeps.
<Targo> roll 1d20+9 information gathering on hunting grounds and Mr. Albert
<Rei-chan> 6,0Targo rolled :6,0 1d20+9 1,0information gathering on hunting grounds and Mr. Albert --> 6,0[ 1d20=6 ]4,0{15}
* Targo returns an hour or two later, sliding back into the truck and sighing with happiness at the heated confines. "There's a joined called Melville nearby, popular place for local hunters and such. Seems our man might've gone down that way."
<Forrest> "Sounds good," Forrest nods, getting into the truck. "Lets go hit it up."
<El-Cideon> It's early evening by the time the team makes their way to Melville. It's comfortably outside the industrial zone of Pike, the ravaged landscape giving way to snowy fields interspersed with clumps of trees. The town itself, such as it is, is quite small; it's obvious the place lives off the wages of temporary residents. The police station is in the center of town; several bars with the timeless glow of neon lie on the outskirts.
<El-Cideon> outskirts.
<Targo> Time to start checking out the local motels and hunting lodges! Given that Mr. Albert has apparently gone missing, it shouldn't be too hard to convince them to say if they've seen him around or not.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Yes folks, it's Gather Info day in Dunes.
<Targo> OOC: I'll.. take ten.
<Targo> OOC: For 19.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Okay.
<El-Cideon> After several strikeouts, Lagoon Company gets lucky--apparently Mr. Albert does come here often, and a local directs the group to a resident who owns a number of "luxury cabins" in the woods at the edge of town, where civilization gives way to wilderness, and rents them to "respectable visitors only." (more)
<El-Cideon> Mr. Albert apparently is one of such, but the withered old landlady makes this distinction seemingly to point out that any crew involving someone like Wil wouldn't qualify.
<Wilhelmina> The landlady only lives because fire is expensive.
* Targo slicks back his hair and does up the top button on his shirt, before twisting to face the others. "So. How do I look?" he asks, fidgeting. "It's the jacket, isn't it? It ruins the ironing. You think they'll notice?"
<Forrest> "I dunno. I mean, respectable don't always mean clean-pressed out in the country," Forrest opines. "Just look 'em straight in the eye, give a firm handshake, and you'll be fine."
<Wilhelmina> "Try money. If that doesn't work, try guns," Wilhelmina adds wisely.
<El-Cideon> The old lady seems unsure of what to make of this exchange, beyond it suggesting that Targo is certainly less on the respectable side than the trusted Mr. Albert. "Do you have some business with him?" she queries, seemingly unwilling to leave the safety of her doorstep.
<Targo> "Yes, he's gone missing, and a number of people are worried about his safety," replies Targo, shrugging. "Is he here at the moment, or has he gone out hunting?"
<El-Cideon> "He went out hunting, the last I heard," she says peevish, gesturing vaguely to the woods behind her. "And that was over the weekend. He was supposed to check out two days ago. Two days extra money he owes me, I coulda used that cabin for someone else."
<Forrest> "That doesn't sound too respectable," Forrest notes. "Any idea how far in he was headed with this hunting trip?"
<El-Cideon> She shrugs. "I don't ask them their personal agendas, I just ask that they pay up on time."
<Targo> "Did you see him drive out somewhere, or did he just go in there on foot?" asks Targo, eyeing the dark and spooky woods with a critical eye.
<El-Cideon> "Usually they go out on foot. It's a poor hunter that needs a car to get the job done. 'sides, it'd be hard to drive in the woods. Look, if you're friends of his, maybe you could remind about the back rent?"
<Targo> "Mind letting us know which cabin he was staying in?"
<El-Cideon> Another wary glance at Targo and his companions. "Gimme two-fifty for his extra days' rent and I'll point you in the right direction. If you're friends of his, he'll pay you back later."
<Wilhelmina> "Or we could just go and the rent remains unpaid," Wilhelmina mutters, loudly enough to be overheard.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+13 perception is she just stiffing us or does she have anything useful to say, I wonder
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+13 1,0perception is she just stiffing us or does she have anything useful to say, I wonder --> 6,0[ 1d20=2 ]4,0{15}
<Forrest> roll 1d20+13 perception is she just stiffing us or does she have anything useful to say, I wonder reroll
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+13 1,0perception is she just stiffing us or does she have anything useful to say, I wonder reroll --> 6,0[ 1d20=18 ]4,0{31}
<Targo> "Ah, forget it, let's go," drawls Targo, rolling his eyes and heading away. "Forrest, think you can try picking up his trail? Get out the ol' sensor-box-thing and we'll see what we can find."
<Forrest> "Doubt we'd find anything helpful in his cabin if he's lost in the woods," Forrest observes, nodding in agreement with Wilhelmina.
<Forrest> "Surely," Forrest breaks out the sensor box and puts it in his backpack worn beneath the all-weather poncho, going to take a look around for any tracks leading from the cabins towards the treeline.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+8 survival
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+8 1,0survival --> 6,0[ 1d20=11 ]4,0{19}
<Forrest> "Found 'em. Looks a couple of days old, but seems like they belonged to our guy," Forrest waves the others over before pointing out the red car by the cabin where the trail starts from. "We'd best get crackin', I reckon."
* Wilhelmina checks that her carbine is in top condition, quite ready to proceed.
<Targo> "Better bring this along. Our man might need it," muses Targo, grabbing the hefty medical box, highlighted for all to see with a happy red cross. "Lead the way, Forrest!"
<El-Cideon> roll 1d100
<Rei-chan> 6,0El-Cideon rolled :6,0 1d100 --> 6,0[ 1d100=80 ]4,0{80}
<Forrest> With his skilled wilderness skills, Forrest barely even slows down as he starts marching into the woods, following the trail left by their client's wayward spouse.
<El-Cideon> It's growing dark, but once on the trail, Forrest finds it not difficult to follow. Mr. Albert certainly made quite the trek out into the woods, though--the team's at least a mile out before anything more than the wind in the trees breaks the silence.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Perception check time!
<Forrest> roll 1d20+13
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+13 --> 6,0[ 1d20=14 ]4,0{27}
<Targo> roll 1d20+8
<Rei-chan> 6,0Targo rolled :6,0 1d20+8 --> 6,0[ 1d20=7 ]4,0{15}
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+7 I'll aid if I can~
<Rei-chan> 6,0Wilhelmina rolled :6,0 1d20+7 1,0I'll aid if I can~ --> 6,0[ 1d20=18 ]4,0{25}
* Forrest silently holds up a hand to stall the others, then draws his rifle and peers through the telescopic nightsight to take a close look at whatever's rooting around in the snow ahead.
* Wilhelmina mirrors Forrest's actions!
* Targo draws his own blaster, peering ahead of Forrest with curious caution.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Knowledge check, Forrest.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9 biology
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+9 1,0biology --> 6,0[ 1d20=1 ]4,0{10}
<Forrest> "Just a rat," Forrest whispers, lowering his weapon. "Shouldn't bother us." At that he resumes following the trail, intending to give the rat space of a few meters as he passes but willing to shoot it if it makes any aggressive moves.
<El-Cideon> The creature goes still when the party gets close enough, hiding in the snow again, but doesn't seem interested in attacking them as they circle around it, and they're soon free to resume they're search.
<El-Cideon> *their
<Targo> "I feel like a boy scout," mutters Targo, trudging after Forrest once he continues.
<Forrest> "Bit of fresh air does some good," Forrest grins, deciding to ignite his FUSION LANTERN to provide better illumination as they continue in the growing twilight.
<El-Cideon> Another mile or so and the tracks lead to a wide circular clearing, maybe thirty meters in diameter. Several large trees in the vicinity have been uprooted somehow. ((OOC: 'nother knowledge check, Forrest).
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+9 --> 6,0[ 1d20=2 ]4,0{11}
<Forrest> "Hmm. Must've been somethin' big around here. Good place to take a peek at the sensor dish, I reckon," Forrest observes, taking a moment to set the dish up on a toppled tree trunk so he can scan for any people or large animals within a kilometre.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+18 perception
<Rei-chan> 6,0Forrest rolled :6,0 1d20+18 1,0perception --> 6,0[ 1d20=12 ]4,0{30}
<Forrest> "Big animal over thatways, just past the clearing, and what could be a human body nearby - in the direction of our tracks," Forrest indicates a conspicuous blip on the map and another smaller one nearby. "Lets see if I can spot it through the trees..." he shuts off the lantern and raises his rifle, peering through the nightvision scope in the direction of the truck-sized thing.
* Targo looks around a little nervously. "How big are we talking here?"
<Forrest> "Reckon it's about the size of our truck, give or take," Forrest replies as he adjusts the sights, before letting out a low whistle. "Looks like a cross between a wooly mammoth and a rhino. Probably its charging around here wrecked those trees."
<Wilhelmina> "What about the body?"
<Forrest> Forrest adjusts his aim to try and look in the direction of the human-sized blip.
<Forrest> "Can't get a good look through the undergrowth, but definitely human," Forrest confirms. "Considering the tracks and all, though..."

[Sierra]

 Targo shivers slightly. "It's too damn cold to stick around. I say we take it down and then grab the body. If it's responsible for the plight of our great hunter, no sense encouraging a repeat performance, eh?"
<Wilhelmina> "Let's go shoot the walking truck," Wilhelmina agrees.
<Forrest> "'Kay," Forrest nods. "Lets split up so if it charges it can't get all of us. No sense winding up like him, after all - Wil, you want to move about ten meters that way, and I'll circle round a bit this way," he suggests, starting to carefully move through the undergrowth to the right, circling closer to the beast.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9 stealth
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+9 stealth and gets 14."12 [1d20=5]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+4
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+4 and gets 21."12 [1d20=17]
<Targo> "And I'll stay here. Right, suits me! Good luck, people! It's just a stupid critter," mutters Targo, before squinting through his own sights towards the creature.
<Targo> OOC: Inspire confidence etc, +1tohit/skillz
* CC (~corwin@bzq-79-179-114-150.red.bezeqint.net) has joined #dunes
* Wilhelmina (~corwin@bzq-79-179-114-150.red.bezeqint.net) Quit (Broken pipe)
* CC is now known as Wilhelmina
* Targo sets mode: +o Wilhelmina
<El-Cideon> There's a disgruntled snuffling from across the clearing, and the sound of heavy footfalls in snow as the creature emerges from the treeline. It's a great, shaggy behemoth, clots of snow and leaves clinging to its white fur, with a wicked ebony horn at the end of its snout. It rumbles a challenge to Forrest as he approaches, though it's not charging yet.
<Wilhelmina> Finding a nice spot to aim Roberta at the creature, Wilhelmina waits for Targo and Forrest to commit themselves.
<Forrest> "Okay... lets back off a little. Nice and easy..." Forrest murmurs, keeping eye contact with the beast as he slowly backs his way back through the treeline of the clearing. He can open fire once there's a bit more distance and cover.
<Targo> In the centre of their little perimetre, Targo shrugs, and aims carefully at the creature. "Hey, maybe we can mount it's head on the wall when we're through," he muses, backing away a bit. "Ok, boys and girls, let's hit it from all angles," he mutters into his commlink, swiftly pulling the trigger!
<El-Cideon> It seems to take eye contact as a provocation, rather than a sign of deference that would've been proper for intruders, and starts to charge just as Targo fires!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Make an attack roll, Targo, then we'll roll init.
<Targo> roll 1d20+7 I *hope* it's not in point blank range to me, for the record
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+7 I *hope* it's not in point blank range to me, for the record and gets 25."12 [1d20=18]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit.
<Targo> roll 3d8+2
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 3d8+2 and gets 16."12 [3d8=5, 7, 2]
<El-Cideon> It's a hit! Targo's blaster bolt sears the creature's side, and it roars in fury!
<Targo> roll 1d20+6 for init, init is a skill, ergo we all have +1 to init
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+6 for init, init is a skill, ergo we all have +1 to init and gets 20."12 [1d20=14]
<Forrest> roll 1d20+10 init
<Targo> OOC: Wait, you two have +1 to init. I don't. 19 for me.
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+10 init and gets 28."12 [1d20=18]
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11 init
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 init and gets 25."12 [1d20=14]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+3
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+3 and gets 22."12 [1d20=19]
* Retrieving #dunes modes...
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Forrest > Wilhelmina > Rhinosaur > Targo'
<El-Cideon> OOC: You're up, Forrest. It's still in the clearing, heading for your place in the treeline.
<Forrest> "Shit," Forrest curses under his breath as the creature starts to charge, deciding to snap off a quick shot in its direction to hopefully dissuade it coming closer before he moves to the side, perpendicular to its projected charging path and deeper into the assumed safety of the trees.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+6 and gets 21."12 [1d20=15]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit.
<Forrest> roll 3d8+2
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+2 and gets 15."12 [3d8=5, 3, 5]
<Forrest> OOC: +1 if I'm point blank
<El-Cideon> OOC: You are.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Wil, go.
<Forrest> OOC: :(
<Targo> OOC: :(
<Targo> OOC: This is it, I'm buying a rocket launcher
<Wilhelmina> Keeping an eye on the target via the trusty scope on her rifle, Wilhelmina squeezes the trigger cheerfully. Hunting is pretty fun, all in all.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 and gets 25."12 [1d20=14]
<Wilhelmina> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 3d8+3 and gets 8."12 [3d8=1, 2, 2]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit, it's a frickin' truck.
<El-Cideon> The beast roars in pain and fury, the attacks only seeming to provoke it further! It barrels into the undergrowth, lvelling its great horn at Forrest!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+13
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+13 and gets 20."12 [1d20=7]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d8+11 for *ouch*
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d8+11 for *ouch* and gets 14."12 [1d8=3]
<El-Cideon> The creature catches Forrest in the shoulder with its great horn, staining the snow red with his blood!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Targo, you're up.
<Targo> "Forrest, get away from it!" yells Targo, snapping up his blaster and firing another shot towards the creature's midsection! Dammit, it's one of those angry beasts that fights to the death rather than flee. Goddamn xenomorphs.
<Targo> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+7 and gets 24."12 [1d20=17]
<Targo> roll 3d8+2
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 3d8+2 and gets 10."12 [3d8=3, 4, 1]
<El-Cideon> Another hit, but it's not enough to stop the monster!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Forrest, go.
<Forrest> "Agh, ya dirty..." Forrest stumbles away a bit, one hand clutching at his wounded shoulder while he snaps off a shot at the beast with his free hand while fleeing further into the forest where ideally all the trees will prove more impediment to a large monster than to a regular sized human.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+7 hopefully I'll kill it before it AoOs me
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+7 hopefully I'll kill it before it AoOs me and gets 13."12 [1d20=6]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit.
<Forrest> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+3 and gets 18."12 [3d8=6, 2, 7]
<El-Cideon> Forrest's blaster bolt slams into the creature's chest, provoking a roar of pain and fury. Though it staggers, it's not down for the count yet. It takes advantage of Forrest's attaempted retreat to batter at him with the side of its massive head.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+13 AoO
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+13 AoO and gets 29."12 [1d20=16]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d6+11
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d6+11 and gets 16."12 [1d6=5]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Wil, your move.
<Wilhelmina> The behemoth really is concentrating on the wrong target, Wilhelmina notes to herself in mild annoyance, snapping off another shot at it.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 and gets 21."12 [1d20=10]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit.
<Wilhelmina> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 3d8+3 and gets 17."12 [3d8=2, 5, 7]
<Forrest> As he flees, Forrest attempts to catch his breath and regain his bearings, just glad to have some space between himself and the xeno.
<El-Cideon> Finally! Wil manages to snipe the great beast right in the head, and at last it succumbs to the inevitable with a terrible, agonized groan, collapsing to the ground and staining the snow with its blood.
<Wilhelmina> Whistling happily, Wilhelmina comes closer, nudging the downed beast with her boot.
<Forrest> "Urgh... piece a' shit xeno," Forrest groans as it dies, stumbling back out of the woods and proceeding to unload half a dozen shots of hot plasma into the downed creature's head while nursing his wounds. "Thanks fer the assist, Wil."
<El-Cideon> It doesn't move. The beast is quite clearly dead.
<Wilhelmina> "Always happy to shoot stuff!"
<Targo> "You still with us, Forrest?" calls Targo, pulling a small, palm-sized box- a medpac- from one of his pockets. There's a sliding sound, and a tiny syringe/dispenser slips out the end.
* Forrest winces a bit as he rotates his shoulder. "Hurts like hell, but don't think it broke anythin'," he reports.
<Targo> "I'll give you the drugs anyway. Easy now." Fulfilling his duties as part-time medic, Targo carefully applies a dose of stimulants to Targo's body, and liquid bandaids to the actual wounds.
<Targo> OOC: Take 10 on treat injury check, +10 hp get
<Forrest> "Ahhh, that's the stuff," Forrest grins as the drugs kick in, chasing all his aches and pains away.
<Targo> "Now, where'd you say our friend was?" asks Targo, tossing the used-up medpac carelessly away.
<Forrest> "Over here," Forrest goes to collect the fusion lantern from where he'd left it by the sensor dish and then approaches the (human) corpse.
<El-Cideon> It's the Company's objective, alright. He's obviously quite dead, and probably has been for a couple days. There's a light dusting of snow on him, and scavengers have clearly been at the body, but the cause of death remains obvious: something massive and pointy gored him right through the gut. An expression of terminal surprise is still registered on his face.
* Targo looks rather sad!
<Forrest> "S'our boy alright," Forrest affirms. "Gimme a few, I'll see if I can make a stretcher or somethin' so we can drag him out of here." At that he starts scavenging appropriately sized branches and lashing them together with mesh tape to form a crude stretcher.
<El-Cideon> A hunting rifle sits forlornly at the late Albert's side, clearly insufficient for stopping the monster that found him.
<Targo> "Good thinking," replies Targo, kneeling down to close the bodies eyes (if it even still has eyes.) "You know, I was hoping he'd been cheating on his wife. It makes a way better story."
<El-Cideon> Constructing a stretcher is easily done, and nothing bothers the group in the aftermath of the battle.
<Forrest> What with his wound and all, Forrest begs off of stretcher duty. He can carry the lantern, at least.
<Targo> It's inviting comedy to ask Wil and Targo to actually carry things, but Forrest certainly deserves a break.
* Wilhelmina muses that in the worst case scenario, they could just bring the man back in easily-manageable pieces.
<El-Cideon> It's a long drive back to the team's HQ in Pendleton. A long and depressing one, given that there's a corpse in the back of the truck. It's nighttime, but Siglinde is still awake when Targo calls her. She looks, above all, *tired*. "Yes?" she says simply.
<Targo> "I'm afraid I've got some bad news," says Targo, feeling like he's somehow failed despite himself. "We found your husband's body in the forest. He was killed by the game we believed he was hunting."
<El-Cideon> Siglinde nods. Her expression is one of resignation more than anything else, like she'd been expecting this or something like it for some time. "I see," she says. She manages a fragile smile. "Thank you for bringing him back, at least."
<Targo> "We've left his remains at the local hospital," explains Targo. "You can speak to the staff there about any arrangements you'd like to make."
<El-Cideon> "Alright. As for your payment, I'll arrange a credit transfer immediately. And...thank you, again. Should I know anyone with similar difficulties, I'll be sure to refer them to you."
<Targo> "We appreciate that. Take care of yourself, ma'am. It's difficult, I know," replies Targo rather stiffly, before turning and heading back to the truck.