Episode 3: Rouge Tower [ON HOLD]

[Murometz]

[ooc]me too, me too 50+25=75%[blockquote]Rolled 1d100 : 82, total 82[/blockquote][/ooc]

[EchoMirage]

Dressing up was actually amusing, especially considering that Curie did not have to mount as excessive weaponry as the others; frankly, the experiment's martial skills were sub-par with anything but the rifle, and smuggling that seemed ridiculous. A short-range stunner was all that had to hide within the xcessive folds of the midnight-black robe.

Yet the entertainment value of that was nothing when compared to the carnival. While certainly shallow, Curie delighted in the million of sights, sounds and scents that flitted through the hall. And the food! An efficient sampling scheme taking into account the quantities of the various foodstuffs and the rate at which they were diminishing was soon set up, course plotted, and, seemingly at random, Curie floated from one bar to the next.

[Bleak Wood Storyteller]

As Curie floated from bar to bar, she sensed and existed. Rich taste, spicy smells, flashing lights and... an undercurrent of something strange. Freezing by a solid steel pillar, she laid a hand on the metal and sent her alien senses probing. From somewhere within the ship came an unknown signal, rhythmic bursts of a shortwave transmission, almost like morse, but more than that. Within each short burst gigabytes of data were compressed and distorted. During the time it took the average party reveler to think one active thought, Curie and Sachmeth, the AI within her cerebral implant, analyzed and decoded the alien pattern. When she cracked the puzzle she inhaled sharply and looked nervously around.

The transmission was in low Gohrkhal, the alien tongue that 13 had some memories of. She did not quite understand it all, but bits and pieces made sense. Kind of.

"eAA *rasping sound* father-being. identify your us in the FGAAAFEAE *rasping sound* In the authority of the name, state your UZGHAL. Why are you here, SiAAASGEA *rasping sound*"

There was no doubt in Curie's mind. Somewhere in here someone was addressing her in Low Gohrkhal"

[EchoMirage]

Curie had always deemed the chance of meeting or even contacting the visitors a distant and unlikely goal. In the shock of the moment, the pillar was direly needed support. Why at this time, why here? She shook the unnecessary questions out of her head, and caefully formulated a reply - this might be a once-in-a-lifetime chance!

"Curie LaForge. Civilian. Youth. No affiliation. On assignment. Contact with you possible?" Packed with the same description, the answer was sent from where the first pulse came.

[Bleak Wood Storyteller]

"SFssA *rasping sound* Parameters incorrect AFASSA *rasping sound* UZGHAL unconfirmed", the reply was terse, cold, but she had pinpointed the source of the transmission now. By a nearby bar stood a cloak draped man, white beard visible, but eyes shaded by a large hood. He stood watching her directly, or so it seemed, frozen in place as she was.

[EchoMirage]

Slowly and carefully, Curie drifted towards the bar, and leaned aaint the heavy wood ,next to the white-bearded stranger. Then, surveying the throng in the ballroom, she assessed the happening casually: "A rather delightul if somewhat decadent event, wouldn't you say?"

[Bleak Wood Storyteller]

Curie drifted casually towards the bar, as if she was in no hurry at all, but rather had all the time in the world. Her eyes drifted over the crowd, always halting an extra second on the man. She noticed red stains of blood in his beard, and his eyes bloodshot with dark circles underneath. He looked ragged and exhausted, yet there was a hard edge to his eyes she could not misunderstand. There was no kindness whatsoever in him, none of the gentler emotions she felt in most people.

As she leant against the heavy wood of the bar, surveying the ballroom, she spoke.

"A rather delightful if somewhat decadent event, wouldn't you say?"

***********************

Riv, Kiph and Wesknife stood watching as Curie made contact with the stranger. Playing with a zippo lighter, flipping the lid open and shut, Riv absent mindedly noticed that Kiph looked more at ease and natural in his woman's dress than he rightfully should have. Then again he had always been weird, and a torrent of absurd memories presented themselves to Riv. As Riv burst into laughter, a disturbing sight given his demonic jester mask, Wesknife noticed Curie staggering backwards, ducking unseen enemies, arms flailing and mouth open.

*********************'

Faster than any human could register, the old man had conjured mystical, hovering entities in the air around him. A strong nimbus surrounded him now, a crimson aura from which new entities spawned before floating silently into orbit around the disturbing old fella.

There were snakes covered in crimson patterns, ravens from whose eyes maggots poured, and butterfly dragons breathing small puffs of misty blood. Curie realized that the humans could not see them, for they were astral projections, entities spawned from the Gohrkhal subconscious of her adversary. They were packets of data, three dimensional imagery only visible to computers connected to wireless network cards... And Curie.

One by one the lethal figures, their digital signatures ridden with potentially fatal viruses and trojans, sped at her and she recoiled in horror, erecting barriers of her own and conjuring digital guardians akin to those of her attacker.

[ooc]I need Curie to roll a computer skill check for defense. Sachmeth aid bonus applies. She might also go on the offensive. Sachmeth bonus also applies.[/ooc]

*************************

"Laaaadiiieees aaand Gentlemen, this is your Captain Speaking", a voice boomed over the loudspeaker, "Welcome to the maiden Journey of the Truth of Steel, the last construction of Armand Steel, our gracious host for the evening. It is his intention that we take you back to the days of Atlantis and Venice tonight, in an epic masked adventure. Tonight we will feast, we will dance, we will @!#$ and believe me, WE WILL HUNT!"

To that the crowd cheered, and Curie and her assailant was lost in the chaos of strobe lights, jumping revelers and the sudden surging movement of the vessel as she took of with a prolonged hydraulic hiss and a sudden motion sending everyone down on their knees.

The Truth of Steel was in flight and the crowd had gone wild. It was party time.

[EchoMirage]

[ooc]It kinda would have helped to describe the guy as a creepy Bambi-rapist before I talked to him, but oh well.[/ooc]

Curie's barely contained anticipation at meeting, bubbling enthusiam even, was broken into tiny cursing bits... that were on fire and bleeding ... as the strange man lashed out against her. Back at the lab, she had read the musings of a pre-war prophet named Murphy, and indeed, his writing came true more often than not; why didn't she heed the advice?

Even as that thought crossed her mind, others began to coalesce into defensive butresses, to ward against the strange assailant's advances. Manifestations of natural laws towered as monolithic forts, to disprove the existence of the offending snippets of code, each adorned with the stern face of its creator that gazed upon the phantasmagoric illusions with aloof disapproval.

[ooc]Defense:[/ooc]
[blockquote]Rolled 1d100 : 33, total 33[/blockquote]

In the physical world, she recoiled, withdrawing behind the Faraday cage of a stipper's ... cage; gathering her wits, to Kiph's earpiece she sent "at the purple cat dancer, help!" and concentrated then to return fire; the venomous bits of her code were akin to toxic molecules, phenprocoumon flying next to swarms of KCN, sarine accompanied methanol and mercury salts.

[ooc]Attack:[/ooc]
[blockquote]Rolled 1d100 : 51, total 51[/blockquote]

[Ancient Gamer]

Mighty Walls shimmered digitally into being, shielding Curie as she reeled backwards and dove behind a stripper's cage. Serpentine shapes, reptiles crossed with insects, fantastic figures slammed into the walls and withered one by one erupting into flames or being drowned by mystic waves.

But there was one entity, a huge shambling reptile being with a croc's face and rocket launchers for arms that tore through the defenses. Multiple rockets hit the wall, and huge section of the defensive fort crumbled and fell. As flames devoured the gargantuan being, it stretched its arms forth, dipping into the psyche of Curie, releasing tainted snippets of hostile code.

Curie gasped, vainly scratching her nails against her temples, her screams drowning in the cacophony of revelry. Inside she heard Sachmeth's silent screams as alien viruses flooded into the AI systems.

Then the attack was over. The intense probing she felt earlier silenced. It was as if someone opened the window, air finally flowing into her lungs.

The old man had ceased his onslaught, dropped out of sight before Curie's counter-attack had any chance of harming him. It was as if he had simply vanished... Or somehow gotten invisible.

[Bleak Wood Storyteller]

Against the wall, some ten meters away, a trio of unlikely heroes tried to make sense of it all. Curie had been staggering backwards, reeling from some unseen blow, and now she was nowhere to be seen. But... there... Kiph seemed to nod to no one in particular* and following his outstretched arm they all saw Curie crouching at the base of a strippers cage.

Kiph noticed something else. The old man Curie had begun a conversation with slipped behind the bar desk and ducked down, out of sight.

* (he nodded in response to Curie's distress call)

[valadaar]

Riv stood at a loss - something was up with Curie, but he was d**ned if he could figure it out. 

Instead he chose to immerse himself in the moment, wondering what would qualify as a distraction in this bedlam called a party.

He would keep an eye on Curies situation, but the other eye was roving freely.

[dark_dragon]

Another player? wondered Mason. I shouldn't be surprised. He thought darkly. Tonight would be a night of deathly intrigue. He'd already spotted half a dozen individuals here under false pretences, the intelligence files glowing brightly in his visual cortex.

As Curie stumbled and staggered, Mason had kept his eyes on her interlocutor. This definitely didn't feel right.

He inventoried the various hardware he had smuggled on him. A silk garotte had been woven into the golden brocade of his crimson frock coat. His needle gun nestled uncomfortably dismantled between his buttocks, and he could feel the poisoned nylon knife digging painfully between his shoulder blades. He knew that the latter's sheath had drawn blood, and he could feel a faint trickle running down his back. He was grateful for the dark crimson fabric of his coat.

He fingered his last weapon, the handle of the jewel encrusted mask. It had cost him a small fortune to acquire, but it had been worth it. The handle hid a five shot jet injector, filled with a multi part mix. The first active ingredient an extremely fast acting muscular inhibitor, usually used in trauma intubations, and the second part a multi-milligram dose of tetrodotoxin.

Confident that he had enough to defend himself, he started making his way towards the bar. Whoever that man was, he stood out amongst the crowd, and Mason didn't like that at all.

Making sure that his motion could not be detected to be anything but that of another reveller, slowly drifting in the Brownian motion of the heaving bodies, he edged his way closer, wary of the skull faced guards, scanning through the crowd.

[ooc]Ok, what is that wizard guy up to? Also, what is the layout of the place like. Are we in the main party room? how did the bar staff react to this hooded old man diving beyond the bar?[/ooc]

[Bleak Wood Storyteller]

The gentle swaying motion of the Truth of Steel affirmed that they were now airborne. They were on the upper deck, with electronically shaded window walls and ceiling vaguely displaying the skies and wasteland outside. The ship was bizarre mix of pleasure cruiser and battleship, for they had witnessed the cannons, rocket launchers of the vessel, as well as the myriad war pods clinging to its underside, reminding them somewhat of the tits of a pregnant she-wolf the way they were clustered together. It was if the vessel was built for both, and, according to their sponsor, it was just that: A marvel of modern ingenuity, a cruise ship where guests might partake of lust and murder, every desire known to man.

They were on the upper deck then, with shaded windows and pillars of steel being illuminated by strobe lights and decorated by velvet banners and burlesque strippers with venetian masks and scant clothing. There seemed to be four exits from the room: one through the blast doors they had entered, but with the ship airborne that seemed like a bad idea. Another way was through the double swing doors leading into the kitchen, where the staff ran to and fro all the time. The two lasts exits were the two stairs leading downstairs to the lower decks where the passenger quarters and other facilities. Of course there was the toilets as well, but they hardly counted, being dead ends for sure.

The staff did not notice the old man diving behind the bar, but Kiph had, and pulling Wesknife along he made his way through the crowd. Passing by Curie, Kiph held an outstretched hand, attempting to get the scared alien on her feet. She seemed scared still, panting heavily and looking genuinely distraught. Riv followed behind, but a dark skinned woman came in his way, her moon goddess mask splitting open to reveal a tongue teasingly pointed at him. Trying to sidestep her proved futile as she reached for his hands and said but one word: "dance".

Arriving at the bar Kiph followed the movement of the old man, but there was no one there. Only cabinets under the bar and a bartender that hadn't even noticed them entering, busy as he was with filling plates with drinks and handing them to the staff. There was some blood on a grating though, as if someone had hurt himself badly and the blood had trickled down the grate.

***********************

"Curie, that was... unexpected. I have never felt anything like it, my child. Preliminary analysis has discovered the code to be... incredible. Fortunately the exposure was limited, and with help from your subconscious I was able to quarantine it in the red sectors in my hard drive. I will continue to analyze it and tell you of any results I find. One thing though; the only thing this vaguely reminds me of are your brain patterns, Curie", the voice spoke out loudly inside Curie's mind. Sachmeth sounded intrigued, a rare display of emotion from the Last Gambit AI.

"What was up with the giant crocodile and the dragon-butterflies? I have never experienced an attack like that. It was as if it was designed to not only overwhelm your hardware, but also your biological senses, and to instill fear. I have begun searching for more effective counter-measures"

[EchoMirage]

"They seemed... absurd and contrived, as if qualities usually considered disturbing - such as gore and decay - were slapped onto each other in a thoughtless amalgam. So far, I am not impressed" she added in defiance and half-feigned bravado; only then, she realized that the salty taste of blood filled her mouth, from when she bit her tongue in the sudden assault.

Yet, the enigmatic assailant had stil lto be somewhere - unless his very appearance was an electronic illusion; even then, a will was behind him. Cautiously, Curie leaned against a wall where she sensed a network node, and sent out tentative feelers through the ship's wiring, on the lookout for a sign of the stranger.

While she was thus occupied, a fraction of her attention wafted over the dancers, observing them and taking mental notes to cross-analyze later. "The woman's breath is hastened, pupils dilated; still, her gaze is focused on the man courting her only 24% of the time, while the woman tending the bar receives 49%..."

[Ancient Gamer]

Letting her senses reach outwards, Curie sensed... nothing. Then a single blip, a cloaked signal sent with layers upon layers of encryption. It came from somewhere on the deck below.

Riv studied the scene, suddenly noticing minute amounts of blood spatter leading to the cabinet below the bar. Curie followed his stare, and, squatting, saw tiny droplets of blood gathering under the cabinet doors.

[valadaar]

Riv attempted to keep his eye on the situation while he joined the woman in the dance.  He had no sign now was the time for a diversion and it seemed best to accommodate her.

Even as he did, he mentally charted the moves needed to backup Curie should she need it.

[EchoMirage]

The assailant seemed gone, for now. Why did he attack, only to flee right thereafter? Perhaps only the Flying Spaghetti Monster knew.
In the confusion that was the party - more of a grande melee of lunatics, now that she considered it - she caught a glimpse of Riv, in a tago's embrace with one of the guests, trying to ditch her here and there; swiftly, she stepped in: "May I relieve you?" she spoke to Mr. Scarlette's dancing partner even as she did, and grabbed him firmly, even as she tried to dance on. "Riv: the man was with high probability an alien much like those whose DNA I carry, in 47.36% of my genome. Also, he attacked me, but I retaliated, to no visible effect. Also, I am unusually excited, must be all the epinephrine. My levels must be soaring."

[Bleak Wood Storyteller]

Waiting for an opportunity, the trio danced and ate, drank and partied, reveling in the decadent opulence. Riv was swept away on the dance floor, and for a while he was the plaything of a trio of women whose rounded shapes and ample bosoms at times made him feel like a little child again. Curie grazed the walls, her fingers feeling their fabric, her senses probing, entering security systems, dancing around the AI firewalls, staying hidden while charting her surroundings. Wesknife on the other hand drank little, only a glass of water now and then, his eyes wandering seemingly at random. In reality it was far from random, using skills honed at the orbital station training facility agent Wesknife searched for his intended victim.

And the hours passed by; day became evening, and evening became night.

Kiph had wandered off some time ago, following a woman dressed as a gazelle, with antlers and snout mask, into the lower section of the ship. The way they were entwined gave Riv little doubt about their intentions.

Then the music was dampened, the light dimmed and a spotlight turned on. On the speakers a baritone male voice sounded.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you are having fun", the deep, sensual male voice paused dramatically.

"On this maiden voyage of the Truth of Steel, we relive the bold adventures of the citizens of Atlantis and Venice!", to this the crowd cheered.

A man entered the stage, wearing metal body armor, mechanized, complete with massive arms and legs, the hissing of hydralics faintly heard as he moved them. Over his head he wore an impressive snake mask, complete with scales and tongue, the technology used so impressive it seemed as if a snake-man had entered the stage.

The crowd cheered wildly. "Steel, Steel, Steel, STEEL, STEEL!"

The man held an arm up in the air, calming the crowd.

"Tonight we've feasted! Tonight we've danced! Tonight we've @!#$ed in the manner of the ancients! Tonight...", the snake-man looked around, the tongue flickering, sniffing the air. The crowd was totally quiet, holding its breath in anticipation.

"TONIGHT WE RIDE LIKE THE VALKYRIES OF VENICE! TONIGHT WE WILL RAPE AND PILLAGE, WE WILL DESCEND UPON THE WASTELANDS LIKE A DIVINE SCOURGE. WE WILL TEAR SAVAGE WARRIORS TO PIECES, WE WILL RAPE AND ENSLAVE THEIR WOMEN!"

"TONIGHT WE ARE ATLANTEAN WARRIORS COME TO CLAIM OUR DIVINE BIRTHRIGHT!"

His voice calmed down, and with a steady voice he spoke one final time before the crowd erupted into wild cheering and ecstatic jumping.

"Tonight is a blood night. A red night. Tonight we claim our tribute and bathe in the blood of lesser men! Come, my valkyrie riders, come follow me to the divine spear dropships so we may sample the red juices of life. Let us inhale the dread terror of our prey!"

[EchoMirage]

Curie was apalled at the pointlessness of the exercise that was Steel's intent. To what end, what gain? Considering the probable construction effort of the air-cruiser and its likely fuel consumption, it was a tremendously wasteful effort for the short-term boost of ego, distraction and fleeting satisfaction of base instinct. The more primitive the urge, the shorter the pleasure from giving in to it, the more frequently did it have to be fed.

Indeed, Steel's guests lacked several important steps in personality development, and little of theirs was in common with the notions of legendary Atlantis and sunken Venice.

Curie though had an epiphany of sorts - the removal of a tyrant such as Steel was a far higher aspiration than murder for coin. And the satisfaction likewas was bound to be more pronounced.

If the organizer of this debauchery was to leave with the marauders (which seemed likely, for would he miss such revelry?) his vulnerable point was in departure and return.

A smile full of joy at her own cleverness, Curie rushed amongst the throngs of guests. "Drop ship, you say?" she whispered, then began considering the ways to sabotage it. For sure, the experiment loved how the Truth of Steel was stuffed to the brim with electronics. Stealth capabilities? "Check." A way to sabotage a drop ship? Curie rubbed her head approximately where the implant sat, then added "Check."

Steel's death in a tragic accident? Likely.

Content, she strode off to procure plans of the docking bay - they had to be on a drive somewhere. Given Steel's vanity, he'd even have an easily recognized custom dropship to boot.

"The higher they rise..."

[valadaar]

Riv returned to the main chamber, already near exhausted.  It had been a long time, and that had been an incredible way to end the drought.

He gasped at the sight of Steel's armor.  The serpent was a powerful totem of his tribe - the headcouncils war banner was a serpent emblazoned on a yellow field.

And here the serpent again forespoke of war.

Riv moved over to Curie and asked her, "Whats the Plan?"

[Bleak Wood Storyteller]

While she spoke with Riv, her mind sent wireless signals, probing the firewalls of the Truth of Steel for any signs of weakness. Working in unison with Sachmeth, the AI implanted in her brain, she scanned router after router, crafted trojan software packets disguised as system signals and attempted all the tricks she possessed, but to no avail. Wherever she turned, the firewall AI guardian, identifying itself as the Guardian of Steel, blocked her attempts.

All around her she saw guards cocking their head, hands shielding their ears, receiving orders through their earpieces. Then looking suspiciously at those hidden in corners, opening doors to closets, poking around inside with taser rods.

"Everyone follow me downstairs! To the dropships! TO GLORY AND VICTORY!", Armands Steel bellowed, his snake mask fiendishly animate.

And the crowd moved down the stairs.

[dark_dragon]

Mason surveyed the scene, carefully taking likeness portraits of all the exposed security and staff, storing them on his comms rig for reference. This was never going to be a walk in the park, but the addition of powered armour made things... difficult.

And then a stroke of genius. Edging towards the alien, The man calling himself Mason whispered: "Curie, Get us inside that suit! Throw everything you have at gaining control of that powered armor."

As Mason knew, these power armour suits were tough, but were never design for frontal information assault. Stopping bullets, energy beams, yes. Making the wearer superhuman, yes. But information warfare was something else. It required finesse, flexibility and tact. Besides, Mason perversely enjoyed the idea of killing a man with the armour that was meant to protect him.

If Curie managed it, they could even use the suit to control Steel's corpse, and use him as a macabre puppet, dancing to their will. Oh, yes, Mason enjoyed that idea a whole lot.

Mason closed his eyes and concentrated all his will on the well developed muscle in his throat, putting together a full reference package, with all the suit information he could gather, and sending his request with the maximum priority signal:

PRIORITY LEVEL E: REQUIRE IW DATA ON ARMOURED SUIT DETAILED FOR FIELD SABOTAGE.

Maybe, just maybe, he could even help Curie do what she needed to do.

[Bleak Wood Storyteller]

Wesknife/Mason had but taken five steps down the stairs when data arrived from the orbital station he called home. He knew that a six person staff had been dedicated to his mission, two persons on each shift, just waiting to assist him in whatever way. The Last Gambit Enclave was an important enemy, and for the future raid on Rouge Tower to succeed, Wesknife had to succeed.

Heckler Heavy Infantry Powered Armor v2058.2

Weight: 100 kg+
Control system: Internal Sensors measuring muscle movement
Communications:
- Online battlefield targeting computer in helmet (helmet not present)
- Audio/Video feed between squad members and CIC in helmet (helmet not present)
Maximum Load (Carry): 500 kg

HHIPA 2058, popularly called the HIPPO, was the last major development of Heckler Advanced Armor, daughter company of H&K. The many advances in personal firepower and missile systems made the main battle tank obsolete in the 2020's, making way for personal powered armor, the successor to the MBT.

The HIPPO is vulnerable to missile fire, EMP blasts, mines and heavy artillery. With a squad of powered armor wearing soldiers, the United States 58th Mechanized Infantry held Hangzhou harbor for eight weeks until reinforcements arrived, a feat that would no doubt had been remembered for centuries had it not been for the apocalypse.

The HIPPO is notorious for the way soldiers wearing it usually jumps instead of running. Being inside a running suit is a disturbing experience, literally shaking the soldier to his core, and the dampeners on the feet and arms make jumping a more pleasing means of transportation. The HIPPO can jump 5 meters vertically and up to 12 meters horizontally. The war stories out of Hangzhou told of Heavy Infantryman Filipe Torres, and how he stalked the ruins of the harbor, ambushing the chinese, ripping their skulls from their bodies and throttling the remains at remaining soldiers. In the end Filipe was caught while peeing, and the infuriated chinese stabbed his genitals 84 times.

[valadaar]

When in rome, thought Riv, perhaps not for the first time.  He decided that being close to the madman would probably be interesting, and would be necessary in any case for the mission, so into Steel's dropship he would go.

Like Curie, he was shocked at the use of resources - he remembered how little his people made due with.  What to do was unclear, but for now, he had to stay close to the 'prey'.

Also, those ladies were worth keeping in sight.

[dark_dragon]

Mason Looked at Riv edging his way towards Steel's shuttle, and followed him, elbowing his way through the crowd and edging Curie on to follow him, all  the while taking detailed recording of Steel's entourage. Both the girls and the man in the lion mask bore watching.