Hmmm.... 2,301 words. Well that was longer then I thought it’d
be.

Welcome to ‘S.h.r.i.e.k’

If you’ve got this far, it means you must be interested or
just plain masochistic to slog through that kind of post. 

This is a home-brew simi-realistic Rp (an oxymoron, I know) roughly
based on the sonic sat-am ‘verse, though seen from a darker critical perspective. It is going to be hinge mostly on character
interaction and working together to uncovering the terrible truth behind the
S.H.R.I.E.K and in doing so, perhaps offering a glimmer of hope to the few
remaining free denizens of the Acorn kingdom.  Whether this is your first RP or your hundredth, there are a
few guidelines I’d like to grow for anyone wishing to join...  Grow because they’re
kind of like turnips, in that they’re long and boring but necessary for a
healthy diet.

Firstly; characters.  

  You are part of the
advance-squadron, a hastily assembled group of loosely associated rebels, whom
are about to receive their first mission brief. 
You will likely know one another from the village though you don’t have
to be aquatinted.  There are several
things you should take into account before throwing your characters head first
into the meeting room.  

I’d like people to
make fresh characters specifically for this RP. 
Using a personality template is perfectly fine, so long as the
background and capabilities are in line with everyone else.  Using old characters, however, can lead to ‘entanglement’
with plot from previous Rp’s that I have no idea about, not to mention the temptation to forge the character into exactly what you want, rather than having to react
and adapt to the situations at hand.

  Remember you can be
whatever species you want to within reason. 
That being; it's no good saying your character is a eight foot high
dragon when the mission relies on subtlety and stealth.  Humans can be equally problematic, as there
were no others apart from Robotnic and Snivly in the toons themselves.  The branding also suggests that you're not a
kind of highlander being, if you get shot in the head or gravely wounded you
can die like any other forest creature.

So Be Careful.  No taking on the whole
Empire yourself.  Isn’t that right Dack
Ralter?

And of course, though you know little of the mission you are
about to go on, you all have a unique drive that has set you apart from the
others. Already you have in some respects sworn silent fealty to the freedom
fighter cause, and any one of you would gladly join a mission of such import.  Doesn’t mean that you are the best, just that
you can be trusted to get the job done. 
Or at least they hope so.  Who
knows what will happen to that confidence when you get to the blackened streets
of your once great city.

Secondly; Backgrounds 

  When constructing
your character please consider your background. You are rebels.  This dose not mean ‘hardened military
combatant’. 

The likelihood is that
before the war broke out you were an ordinary citizen, a blue or white collar
worker just making her contribution to the world and trying to get by.

 Maybe you’re playing
an Engineer; you 'might' have been a military technician, but more likely you
were a humble TV-repair man or grease monkey before the war.  Handy with a wrench and computer, you’ve now
exchanged your soldering iron for a hacking tool and dynamite.  

 Maybe you’re a
combatant; You 'might' have been a grunt in the armed forces, or perhaps a
regular Joe with no special skills other then the knack for surviving.  Someone whom witnessed firsthand the horrors
of the robotic uprising. Your colleagues, friends, family, all gunned down or
swallowed up before the wave of unfeeling steel.

 If you were really
lucky you may have been a noble of some kind, or a member of the original city guard.
 Though you’d have to come up with quite
the line on how they escaped when the upmarket districts were the first to be
hit.  A coward perhaps? Someone who went
and hid while his comrades fell in defence of king and country, driven by the
guilt of those he failed.

What I’m saying is
that, though you may want to play the next Rambo, remember that you are not
‘high level’ characters in this game. 
For the moment you’re playing every day citizens of Knothole who have
chosen for one reason or another to take up the sword.  Your background should reflect this and the source
of any character flaws. 

 Ohh I love character flaws, so deliciously exploitable.

Also you don't need
an entire book outlining your characters past. 
A few lines would do so long as you yourself are sure of exactly where
she's coming from, both emotionally and what motivates her.

Finally; Restrictions

  Oh don’t we all just love that word.  But it is kind of important. Basically this
is mostly where the 'semi-realism' comes in.

Keep in mind that
technology here is basally cobbled together from salvage.  Unlike the cartoon where hovercraft and
advanced super computers seem to be just laying around for anyone to take, most
of the tech is rusty and held together with duct-tape.  Based on this, the best most freedom fighters
can hope for is a pair binoculars with one broken lens, maybe a couple of working
guns scattered here and there, charred recycled armour, you get the gist.  Bottom line is that tech is hard to come by,
and if they did have a BFG-9000 with one hundred times optical zoom and a
button that goes 'Boom Headshot!', why on Mobious would they waste such an
asset on you?

  Please take
character gen seriously. You are not a super hero, chosen
one, daemonic entity,visiting alien with indistructable tenticals mind bending powers or a 'sonic clone'.  Super
powers usually only serve to make things ‘imba’ and cause escalation in other
players or worse; leave them standing by the way while more powerful characters take the lime light. So at character gen, no one is going to have powers of any
kind.  At least not to be begin with (dum-dum
daaa), but for that we will have to see where the Rp goes in the long run. Giving people wibble is always fun for a GM, especially
if it comes with strings attached –insert manic cackling here-.

For now I’d like
everyone to start out with a sensible blank slate.  In a world where robots, cyborgs, superheroes
and evil scientists do actually exist, the little people must rely on one
another for survival.

When posting keep in
mind what I already said; you are not immortals.  Fall and it will hurt.  Get cut and you will bleed.  Get shot and without medical attention you
will likely die. 

Understand, I am
not actively out to slay people’s characters here, it is far more interesting to
watch how people cope and develop.  Just
be warned that if you do something stupid or heroic without putting thought
into it first, there will likely be consequences for both you and the rest of your
team.

 Also, try not to move
other people’s characters unless you are absolutely sure of their reactions.  It can get really annoying when someone is
not allowed to make their own decisions in an important situation and result in
conflict.  That being said I’m
all for combination posts.  If you have a
really cool idea, post up a place holder and bounce some thoughts around with
whomever you want to construct it with via pm or OOK thread (if one becomes necessary).  Place holders last for a varying length of
time, depending mostly on how quickly the RP has been moving, though if it’s
slowing the whole thing down we may just have to move along.  If it comes to that I shall give you a heads
up via pm first, so that it dosn’t result in your being left standing while the
group lumbers on.

  Lastly it is worth
pointing out that entrance to Robotropoice is restricted, you can't just walk
in through the proverbial back door like the satAM cartoons.  In other words, once in the city adding new
character could be tricky without distinct plot points. If you want to join
after we're in the city send me a PM and we'll find a way in for you, do just
'appear' as though you walked through the front door.

Ugh, that was longer then I thought it was going to be also
>.<

 So that's about it.  

 Don't Post Anything other than Character concepts and
expressed interest initially. I'd like to start off with everyone together in
one room rather than rounding up people from the four corners of the forest.  Also opinions on the main post plus suggestions
for alterations in writing style are much appreciated.

Cya around! ^_^

(OOC: This looks interesting.

*stuffs Reni in the closet* Sorry, not this time Ren. I have a feeling fanchild characters are not allowed. Especially YOU.

*cough* anyway...I have a couple characters I could use for this....depending on what is best.  They're not exactly new...but neither have they really done anything yet...and when they do it'll be in a completely different (though still SatAM-based) universe...so what they do there wouldn't be the same as here. If you allow it anyway.  Point is...they have nothing establised as far as THIS RP goes. (Well they don't have anything established for the other one yet either, but...) Gah. I think I'm being confusing.  Hmm...Though I REALLY want to put my character Lyric in this...she might not be the best one, as she is wheelchair-bound.  Unless there is stuff going on back in Knothole at the same time?  My other possibility is my coward character, Pirraya...Or if you prefer me to come up with somebody completely new I can probably manage that as well.)

{{ Screw it, I'll throw my Bullet-ridden hat into this little affair - and since Mobius is SO easily retconnable for any RP given he's a regular ol' Mobian Eagle Now-Out-of-work PI type, I'll use him and have done with! }}

OOC: Very nice! Consider me signed on! Hmmm, I can't use characters I had already established, but you know, I'm feeling creative anyway! ^_^ I'll post an IC, or rather my character, shortly as I have other obligations to other RPs at the moment, but I'm definately on board!

Yay! We have interest! Intrigue! Indoctrination!

A hearty welcome to all of you and congratulations on surviving that first post >.>

Okay... serious face Rei, professional, like you know what you’re doing. Ahem.

So lets do this in post order:

Vi:

As I said, I really don’t mind people using templates or even characters they have used in the past.
The important thing is that you need to treat them like an entirely new creation. I’ve seen in it table top Rpgs,
where people end up trending towards the pre-established character traits, rather than allowing them to evolve
 based on their experiences within that game. If you think you can pull it off with one of your other chars,
then you’re quite welcome to do so ^_^

I hadn’t really planned any visible activity for the village once the players have entered the city, other than the
occasional communication. Generally it’s safe to say that once in Robotropolice you’ll be pretty much cut off
from the rest of the world. That doesn’t mean that events won’t be taking place, just that they will be unseen
and outside of player influence.... my that did sound ominous, did it not ? ^_^

Mobi:

Muahahaha! The subliminal messaging is working! Welcome to my lair dear
Now, you want to fetch me a sandwich *squints and wiggles her fingers in his direction*

...darn, maybe it only works once.

Okay! So you’ve got a chunk of background there, and I can already think of several advantages (and flaws) that
would probably come along with it. If you could send me wee description, background and specialties that you’d like
Via PM, I’ll send you a reply with yay’s nay’s and Squee’s. Oh! Background doesn’t have to be a work of dickens btw,
just enough to highlight what has motivated and shaped his personality in the past, the waypoints as it were.

Oh this is something for everyone: Didn’t mention this before but you Will be getting actual advantages to each of
your characters. For instance, as an ex-p.i mobious, you would likely get something along the lines of an uncanny knack
for noticing things, though this could be something of a double edged sword (I’ll explain in the PM reply). Still not sure
how exactly to work the traits, the likelihood is that most of them will be situational, and I’ll PM the player in question
when the option to use their more specialised talents comes up.

Finally, Eggy!

Welcome to the madhouse! Once you’ve decided what you’d like to do, if you could PM me the result so that I can
tweak and poke and all that jazz. This isn’t messing with your characters btw, just giving most of them an extra spin
that will make things a little more intimate for the group as a whole.

YAY I HAS PLAYERS!

Well I’m going to get on with writing the roundup post. With any luck we’ll get a few more players before we set sail,
but if not we may have to use extra npc’s (or red shirts as I like to call them mu-ah-aaah)

Oh, one more thing: What does OOC mean?
I’ve seen it around the guild before but assumed it was some in joke about the Liberian of the unseen univercity, though clearly it has some meaning beyond this.

OOC is an acronym that stands for Out-Of-Character.  It is usually included in a post to indicate that the player is talking as opposed to IC (In-Character) which is used to refer to what happens in the story or description relevant thereof.  Your first post would be an example of IC posting; your second post is an example of OOC, if that comparison helps.  To further separate OOC from IC, many people will bracket or parenthesize the OOC text, though this isn't necessary.

Welcome to the Guild.  You certainly are making a showing for yourself here this first time; it's been a long time since I've seen an intro post that made me scroll down at all, and it was an interesting read.

I'd like to join as well.  I am currently thinking of either a field medic type of character or an engineer/techie who specializes in explosives.  I'll PM you details for each, though I'll only choose one of the two to use for the RP (assuming that either is viable and/or welcome of course, and isn't overlapping with other character choices by others).

Can I also state that you might wanna alter the formatting of that post...it's a little eye-popping to read! :3

ooc

Woot! Another victim-I mean player.. yesss.

Thanks for getting those character concepts to me you two. I’ve already sent some feedback, so when you’re happy with what you’ve got post up the blurb you want to use. Also remember that you don’t have to include the Talents I’ve talked about in the PM’s. You may want to make short mention of them, but it is always good to have something held back for other players to discover, especially character flaws.

I think the formatting had something to do with MS-Word frelling with the word and line spacing. Doesn’t seem so pronounced if I use the quick post feature, so I may see about tweaking that first post on Wordpad or something first. Thanks for the heads up though Mobi ^_^

Yup, that's a lot more presentable, Miss Reithe. :3 Looks like this is gonna be just fine after all!

I agree, the formatting is much better now.  I've had similar issues when posting stories in Carnival Island that I wrote up in a Word or OpenOffice document, although it doesn't seem to be an issue if I post from something simpler like Notepad.

Okay, I'll present my character then as I've gotten approval to do so.

Taffy Tanner is the name of a raven-haired teenage medic-trained raccoon
girl.  Her long black hair is done up in a single long braid that goes down nearly to the small of her back, and she has brilliant blue eyes.  Despite her name, she is neither pink nor sweet.  She deals
gruffly with patients, is very no-nonsense and in general seems
unapproachable.  If there is no strong leader present in the
group, she will likely step up to the task even though she will likely
not think of herself in that role.  She is trained in basic self-defense
like any other rebel, and has no compulsion against fighting or
violence, but she doesn't rush into things either.  She has a fear of
drowning and somewhat of water itself, cultivated by nearly being
drowned in a forest river when she was young.  She is one of the few students of the current medical specialist in the small community of Knothole, and is old enough so that she has been out in the field a few times.

Mobius Springheart was once a PI in Mobotropolis...or at least, had qualified to be one a couple of years before the great takeover of the city.

His life up until that point had been one of legalwork, personal training in the art of the business, and other related affairs that he doesn't care to share out loud for personal reasons.

these days, he's an intel/renaissance guy...he tends to notice things that others might miss, being quietly observant one moment before springing to action and dealing with the seemingly unknown, because he's normally prepared in advance with the observations he's made - He also has a knack for making small, useful pieces of equipment when the need arises. Mobius also knows how to pilot and care for aircraft - often being very much the aerial guy who escorts folks from a to b...

His main issues are his impetuous and overly confident manner - which, when coupled with his habit of speaking a little too truthfully in regards to people he may know personally, tends to land him tail-feather first into troubles that very often tend to be larger than he expects...or even leading into potentially dangerous situations that he can't resolve properly without backtracking or retreating from. His good nature can lead him to being regretful if something goes wrong owing to something he himself may have had a part in...and is self-critical when things do go wrong, which isn't a complete rarity.

He's a leader at heart, but at the same time he doesn't care to be one...preferring to be observant and careful with his position in groups, the understated watcher when things need to be done, and the unrepentant man with a plan when something needs doing...although it has to be said that he can sometimes wind up biting off more than he can chew just as easily.

(OOC: XD I never thought of that! @ Librarian refference! (wouldnot that be "ook" though? *bricked* XP)

Anyway...I'll go with the coward.  They can be surprisingly fun. (to read anyway. *another discworld ref, for the win* XP Though mine is no wizzard XP Ok I'll stop now. ) anyway....this is what I have so far.  needs work, I know. but for now:

Name: Pirraya (no known last name)
Species: Kangaroo Rat
Gender: Female
Eye color: Amber
Fur color: Rusty-red with dark grey highlights
Age: 20
Nicknames: Pir (prefered, pronounced: PEER), Pirra
Appearance: Rusty and grey kangaroo rat with amber eyes, and a long, black-tipped, tufted tail.
Personality: A bit jumpy and high-strung. Intellegent if she can get past her flightyness and think a situation through.
Abilities: Fairly good jumper
Weapons: herself mostly; she can kick quite hard. Keeps a couple knives in her boots just in case.
Other realatives: Robotisized
Breif history: At the age of 8 or 9, Pirraya just managed to escape robotization, while the rest of her family was not so lucky. She has spent her life since then eluding SWATbots, sometimes just barely. This is what caused her to become so jumpy and nervous.

anyway....that was the profile from the first RP she was in...that didn't go far. there's not really much there, and the history is your generic history of someone who narrowly escaped the fate that many on Mobius suffered.  If you have ideas for as to how I can improve upon it, don't hesitate to mention them.  Or if you think I should do something new you can tell me to. I have been kinda low on ideas the past couple days. I blame "that time of the month" If you know what I mean. (It also makes me want to chew off my own leg...or arm...or something. rar. I'm weird right now.  Which I also blame on "that time of the month")

anyway...IC later

Edit: Age changed. Still waiting on PM input about other changes)

Fifteen years. 
Fifteen years since the inception of Julian’s coup d'état had swept away
an entire nation.  Odd how well she remembered the final days of her father’s
kingdom.  Sally and her closest friends
were the first arrivals in knothole, and what a sorry sight it had been. The rudimentary
collection of cabins had been left unattended for the better part of a half century,
held together with only rotting timbers and rusted nails.  If it had only been a few survivors from
Mobotropolice inhabiting the tumbledown shacks, things may not have been so difficult.
 But soon, refugees from surrounding
villages and other fallen cities had filled the space in the crude huts.  Too many bodies, not enough beds.  Too many mouths and no food stores bar what
the forest could provide.  Yet with them
had come the skills to survive, the knowledge to rebuild and the will to fight. 

The village had developed a lot since those first days, nearly
outgrowing the protection offered by the crater walls.  She had watched it all, even guided some of
it. She had grown with it and its citizens. From the vantage of the meeting hall’s upper floor, Sally
looked out onto the heart of knothole, knowing that as she watched a ripple of
unspoken apprehension was steadily moving through her people.  Her family.

Despite efforts to keep the details of the transmission
private these things had a way of bleeding from person to person without a
single word exchanged.  People moved hurriedly
between buildings as though avoiding an invisible rainstorm.  Drifting conversations were brisk and did not
linger on small talk.  The normally subdued
life within the village had given way under the weight of delegation and rumour.  Everybody was busy with something important
and that had put everyone else on edge.

Sounds of foot falls moving up the stairs woke her from
contemplation.  Moving to position behind
a worn tree-stump desk, Sally surveyed the hastily assembled group with a
critical but not unkind eye.  She
recognised the all and knew many of them better then she knew herself. 

Reservations preyed on her thoughts once more.  Sure, they weren’t ‘the best’ knothole had to
offer, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?  It was no good sending someone like Rotor, tech-savvy
though he was.  He knew little about
field operations or how to survive alone in the harsh, robot infested junk-yard
that was once her Father’s capital. 

She shifted uncomfortably as the last few volunteers
filed in and took up positions around the makeshift bench.  There was another reason why it had to be
these people.  This was, undoubtedly, one
of the most dangerous missions the Knothole freedom fighters had ever
faced.  To establish a staging post
within the walls of the fallen city, above ground and separated from all viable
escape routes or communication with Knothole. To avoid detection for an unknown
time frame and launch espionage sorties to assess and hopefully stop a little
understood threat...  Though it would
have stung her throat to say it aloud, she simply couldn’t risk anyone who
could be vital to the survival of the resistance.  Tragic and distressing as their loss would be
should the mission fail, they were a recoverable defeat.  Dwelling upon that thought caused a pang of guilt
to wash over the young princess like a bucket of ice water. She had to think
like a leader, with her brains and not with her heart.

‘That’s the problem with trying to save the world,’ She
thought, ‘you had to be a cold calculating bastard.’

Once everyone seemed settled, she cleared her throat and addressed
them with a calm smile... her family.

  “Most of you will
know little about what you are volunteering for, only that it is going to be
dangerous. I will not lie to you in this respect; this mission brings far
greater risk than anything we have so far undertaken.  Before I go into details, I’ll explain the
basic aim of this plan. Then, though I trust Fisk’s choice of people, I need to
hear it from you all personally; that you are still willing to dedicate
everything you are to this mission. The future of Knothole may very well depend
upon it.”

For a moment she paused, surveying an array of reactions
to her unusually serious tone. 

  “Broadly
speaking,” She continued the smile returning once again “We need to establish a
small outpost within the bounds of the city, and from there investigate any unusual
activity.   This will entail a prolonged stay within
robotropolice, out of direct communication with Knothole or support once you
are established.  The underground will be
there to assist you, but they cannot do anything to help should you fall into
enemy hands or come under attack.  Basically,
once inside, you would be on your own. Now, with these
facts in place, I would not expect any of you to do this.  If you wish to back away, now is the time to
do so.  This is not an order of any kind,
but we need to know that we can rely on you all to see this mission through.”

Silence descended, oily and tangible. That awkward kind where
everybody is waiting for someone else to break the susurrus.

Unseen but somehow felt by all present, a slender hand rose
towards the rear of the group. Sally’s eyes settled on it with an un-judging
smile “Hail?”

A skinny tabby lowered his arm as the row parted
slightly, allowing him to look through to the princess. He took a measured
breath “Sally lass.  Yee ken tha’ ah’
trust yee, we al doo. Ah’ don’nae think anyone har could see otwise.  But thas... There’s be a darn god reason whi
nun have treed wat yee’s proposin.  Those
that treed befur, den’ne com back.  Either
te’ unda’groond tookem for thar owen, or thee were jus neither seen agin. Ah’
ken it mus be importent if yee be plannen it, ba its jus-”

He trailed off as sally raised a hand “I know Hay, I
know. I had a feeling you might not be up for it.  I said I wouldn’t hold any of you too this
task unless you wanted to stay. I would not wish it on anyone.”

Hail’s head sunk slightly as he averted his glazing
eyes “Ah’ jus... Ah’ can’ne go bak ther...”

 â€œIt’s okay Hay” Sally repeated in a soft voice that
could lift the hearts of even the most forsaken of souls “I understand, and no
one would think any less of you because of it.”  The crowd could feel that last statement
direct at them. “The same applies to everyone. If this isn’t something you cannot
do, or you’ve even got the slightest reservation, say now and walk away.  I cannot risk letting out all the information
to those who won’t be joining the advance team.”

The pause was far briefer this time between the silence and
the next hand going up.  In a few short
minuets the twenty strong pack had been reduced to a few steadfast members,
everyone else had left the way they came.

“okay...” the young ground squirrel breathed “Are there
any others?  If not, you’re all terrible liars.  It’s not the most inspiring of mission briefs,
I’ll grant you.”

Turning left to address the first of the remaining volunteers
“So how about you?”  She continued with the
same almost jovial air that could only be an attempt at hiding her distress “Feel you’re
ready to take on a daring mission behind enemy lines to seek out and brake some of their stuff?”

OOC:

Okay! Wow that took a lot of writing!

So, here we go people. 
You’ll notice this is entirely open ended, meaning that anyone can step
in to fill the first reply and still leaves room for anyone else wanting to join. If you really want to be the first to post up, bob a place holder post in there and edit a reply later (like you don't know that already )

Anyone has any advice too I’d appreciate it (especialy about Sally, never sure if I'm playing her too seriously).  I’m kinda flying blind here ^_^

P.s. Cookies to the one who can spot the DiscWorld refrence!  I heart those books soooo much!

P.p.s A purple hat to the one who can corectly guess how many times I'll edit this post ^_^

Nice RP you've started here.  I've been looking for an excuse to get
back into the game.

Name:  Maxine Flowers (prefers Max)

Age: 24

Race: Female white mouse

Specialty:  Explosives, both the fabrication and detonation aspects.

Description: White fur, dark red hair (short length, given her hobby), short
stature, missing her tail, her left pinky and a chunk of her right ear
(just because she's good with explosives doesn't mean they always agree
with her).

Personality: Very enthusiastic, quick-thinking, resourceful.  Also, something of a mad bomber and a little TOO eager to make things go "boom".  Masks her rage at Robotnik and his forces with her sociopathic glee for blowing up as much of Robotropolis as she can.  Sometimes winds up endangering herself and everyone around her with her zeal for explosive chaos.
Abilities:  An expert with chemicals.  Great with small mechanisms, steady hands, capable of fashioning explosives from almost any flammable object she comes across (not so good with computers, though).  Highly practiced in the art of setting traps, camouflaging bombs and demolitions.
Weapons: Whatever explosives she can get her hands on and a crude radio detonator she fashioned from a captured SWATbot comm unit.  Also a small knife, but she mostly uses that to fashion bombs and fuses.

Background:  Grew up in an well-off Mobotropolis neighborhood and lived a
very mild-mannered existence until her fifth birthday, when she got a
chemistry set for her birthday.  For the next three years, Max was the
terror of the neighborhood, carving a path of vandalism, foul smells,
black smoke and explosions everywhere she went.  And then the coup
happened.  Max's dad fought back and died trying to protect his family.  Max, her mother and
brother were all captured.  Max escaped while on her way to be
roboticized by smuggling some of her chemicals in and causing a
distraction that damaged the Roboticizer and caused enough of a
distraction for her and several others to escape from the city. 
Currently, she lives in a hut several miles outside of Knothole (would
you want someone who tampered with bombs inside your village?).

Hope that passes muster.  Been awhile since I got into an RP, let alone started a new character...

I'll wait for your okay before going IC.

Mobius Springheart had been listening entirely with a smirk on his face - he knew the routine, knew the stakes...hadn't been outside for a good while, not since the last little surveillance mission he'd had with a few others. Heck, this might even be fun. He cleared his throat, tipping the hat on his head as he steps forward, looking at the others lined up before looking back into the Princess's eyes and giving a nod.

The Eagle knew exactly what had to be done, and he had to at least make the effort to get others involved.

" Hey, Sure - count me in...somebody needs to break the ice a little in here, may as well be me of all people, right? "

He spoke with a soft chuckle before scratching the back of his head, knowing that the next few days were gonna be particularly interesting to be a part of - there was no way to guarantee that everything would work out as planned, and that the strength of their mission success would depend on the strength of their group resolve...and he had to to show that resolve, the same as everyone else who was to take part in this mission.

He hoped that his own actions could at least stir some enthusiasm amongst the rest of those lined up to take part...

Ison Blackweller was fidgety. This seemed like a perfect oppurtunity to finally get back at Robotnik, lord knows he has it coming. Even if it wasn't the be all and end all, the mission could still be a pivotal turning point in the Robotnik war. However, the gray furred feline felt he had already heard enough. This could very well be a suicide wish, and Ison wanted no part of it. He shrugged and turned to exit the gathering room without even saying a word. There were no words to be said. Princess Sally had expertly demonstrated why he was not up to the task. He paused and gazed at the exit. His big blue eyes began to tear up as he took another step, his sight still fixated upon his destination. One foot in front of the other, left before the the right. He was halfway there. A pause then a sniffle. He was torn. Ison felt as if he was betraying his friends. He felt as if he was betraying his princess. She and the rest of Knothole had been so nice and accepting when they allowed him into their domain. He spent several years roughing it in the wild before he eventually found his way to Knothole. It wasn't much, but it felt like home.

He hung his head down low, trying to force his body into taking another step. Tear drops fell from his furry cheek and landed upon the hard wooden floor. He didn't want to go back, go back to fighting for survival. He had had enough. It was his experiences though that made him a perfect canidate for the mission. Survival had become second nature to Ison, and survival was a must when it came to the mission. If he sat this out, and the task returned a failure, the guilt would surely torment him. Even if there was no possible way his skills could have saved the day, the guilt would still persist. Still what if he did go? Would he slow the team down? What if they find theirselves locked in combat with one of Robotnik's bots? His combat skills aren't what one would call exceptional, hell they're barely passing. Wouldn't that, however brief before he fell himself, also induce a sense of guilt? He looked up at the ceiling. At least being there meant he had gave it his all, and that was all that was asked, wasn't it?

Someone else in the crowd spoke up, an eagle, " Hey, Sure - count me in...somebody needs to break the ice a little in here, may as well be me of all people, right? "

Ison spun around to face the speaker. It was Mobius. Ison recalled seeing him around the village from time to time. He never actually knew him personally, but definately knew of him. Ison noticed the determination in the eagle's face as he looked on at the princess. He seemed somewhat...excited? Ison wiped the tears from his eyes and took several steps back toward the small group. His mind was made up, he was going on this assignment. He owed it to all of the citizens of Knothole. If it weren't for them he wouldn't be here in the first place.

He sniffled a little before finally speaking up, starting softly before finally coming to his full voice, "...too. Me too? You have helped me out so much. It would be almost sinful to leave now, and believe me I almost did just that. Besides I don't do much of nothing when sitting around  here anyhow." he smiled a bit as the feeling of dread changed into a feeling of faint excitement. He was still worried he might do more harm than good, but he thrust that to the back of his mind and took another step forward. He tightened up the laces on his ragged olive green fishing jacket. "I'm sure my experiences in the wild will come in handy on a assignment like this!" A feeling of relief washed over him. he was now certain he made the right choice.

OOC: I hope that's good. If it needs editing just let me know! ^^

EDIT: Oh and here's a brief profile of my character!

NAME: Ison Blackweller
AGE: 17
SEX: Male
SPECIES: Feline (cat)
APPEARANCE: Gary fur with darker gray rings around arms and tail. Blue eyes. A small braid of hair draped over his left shoulder. Right ear is hairless due to an accident in the past. Wears an ole olive green fishing vest he found lying in the forest one day.
PERSONALITY: Tries to remain optimistic about the future, even if he doesn't have full confidence in himself. He Isn't the most intelligent person in Knothole, can't tell you the first thing about how tech works. And is also startled easy by loud unexpected noises (well he IS a cat after all).
ABILITIES(brief as I don't want to spoil too much): During the years he spent in the forest he has picked up an exceptional skill for survival. He has a keen Danger Sense, due to the fact he is always conscious of his surroundings. Also very Savant. Give him a pile of junk and can craft just about anything to acompany the situation at hand. Crude weapons are a specialty (especially blunt ones). He may not know much about tech, but he definately knows how it should be assembled. He can take the same pile of junk and assemble crude (but effective) grenades. However he may not exactly know what he's crafting while in the process, just that he knows he'll get results in the end. It may seem he leaves alot to lady luck (which wouldn't be incorrect), and you never know what to expect from this process, but it has never failed him in the past.  Of course that being said, he has no clue how tech works, and, needless to say, would be hopeless when tasked to build or repair similar materials from scratch. Oh well.
BACKGROUND: Specifics are scarace. Ison chooses not to talk about the past and instead focus on the future.It is known that he had a family at one point (most likely gone now due to Robotnik), and that he had spent several years living in the forest before finding his way to Knothole. There is most definitely more there, but only time will reveal those secrets!

Again just let me know if anything needs editing. I wish you (and every one playing) the best, and may this RP last forever!

Somewhere towards the back of the room, a small mouse was deep in thought.  The exciting concept of taking the fight into Robotropolis and giving Robotnik something to have night terrors about was warring with the horrifying concept of this being a thinly-veiled suicide mission.  Sure, there was always the chance they could complete the mission, but even then their survival wasn't guaranteed...

Maxine Flowers carefully weighed the pros and cons in her head.  Let's see, I go in.  I'll get to blow a bunch of Robotnik's stuff to ashes, help throw his forces into chaos, find some of his new toys and maybe use them against him.  On the other hand, I'll probably die doing it.  Max grimaced at that last thought.  Dying is a pretty big con, after all.  Or I stay home, tinker in my workshop and maybe he activates that new toy of his and I die anyway.  So... dying either way, I guess.  Die trying and kicking some ass or just die.  Easy decision to make, really.  Least this way she could go out after having some fun at the fat man's expense.  I just hope I'm not the only one crazy enough to do this.  Ambushing supply convoys outside of the city is one thing, but I really don't want to be the only moron running around inside Robotnik's house...  Max was about to raise her voice when...

"Hey, Sure - count me in...somebody needs to break the ice a little in here, may as well be me of all people, right?"  Max broke from her thinking at the sudden outburst from the eagle, Mobius, is that his name?  I think it's Mobius.  Not many eagles I know...  Max looked around the room, seeing that everyone else was looking at Mobius, who seemed to be taking his declaration of suicidal intent well.  Better than well, actually, he looked rather determined.

"...too. Me too?"  Another voice, this time from a grey-furred cat who seemed to have been... crying? "You have helped me out so much. It would be almost
sinful to leave now, and believe me I almost did just that. Besides I
don't do much of nothing when sitting around  here anyhow."  Max smiled.  Oh man, I'm not the only crazy person here.  That's a relief.  "I'm sure my experiences in the wild will come in handy on a assignment like this!" the cat finished.

"I'm in, too!" Max said, raising her left paw into the air.  The others in the room looked around for the speaker, only to find a diminutive mouse raising a paw with a missing digit.  "Someone's gotta be in charge of breaking all the fat man's stuff, right?" Max's smile widened as she spoke.  "I got the bombs if you guys got the guts to help me shove them down his throat."

ooc

Sorry everyone.

Would be posting tonight, but I've had a long day and have got too much work to do, so unfortunatly continuation on my part will have to wait a little longer. Sorry.

If other people want to chip their characters into the pool in the meentime then be my guest ^_^

For now though, happy cat has run out of happy *sleep*

Taffy Tanner sat at the back of the room, her chair tilted back against the wooden wall of the hut and her hands behind her head.  Her eyelids had been closed at the start of the meeting, but those deep blue eyes of hers opened when Hail broke down and left.  Even after that, her expression seemed nothing but blasé as she watched Princess Sally attempt to - and succeed at -  rallying the remainder of the Freedom Fighters in attendance to accept this mission.

Her expression, however, did not reflect her thoughts entirely as she tugged at her red shirt.  There's something about this that's got everyone spooked.  I felt it at the infirmary...and even though these guys are putting on a brave face, I know they feel it too.

Of course, secret mission briefings were always the matter for discussion among Knothole Freedom Fighters; it was an exciting change of pace from the regular village gossip about who was going out with who, or small talk about the weather or the crops.  But sometimes secret missions turned out to be surprises that acquired rare luxuries for Knothole as a way to raise morale.  Taffy remembered from a couple of years ago when such a "secret mission" involved getting the parts Rotor needed to make a snow-cone machine, a welcome relief from summer heat.  That had been her first secret mission...and the last one she volunteered for, until this time.

Why am I even here?  Am I really that bored?  Maybe I should have turned Bunnie's invitation down...

It was when Ison turned to walk toward the door that she nearly gasped as she was startled out of her thoughts, and her chair thumped against the wooden floor as she sat upright.  A couple of nearby Freedom Fighters were the only ones who spared her a disdainful look as someone up at the front announced their willingness to go onto the mission.  And when that turned Ison back around to accept the mission, that was when Taffy knew she had to go along as well.  Even that bomb-crazy mouse girl joining the mission couldn't dissuade her, although that did make this mission all the more one in jeopardy.

"I'll go," Taffy said as she leaned her chair back, annoyance sneaking into her expression as her shell reasserted itself.  "Someone will need to be there to keep everyone in one piece."

(ooc: Ok...implementing some of the PM suggestions I got.  Pir's fear of Robotnik evolved into downright hate over the years, which has the potential to cause her to go berserk.  And she also was not taken on by the freedom fighters right away...therefore, she lived, along with a small group of friends, right in the heart of the city for several years. As a result of this, she got quite good at hiding, and she honed her senses to almost razor-sharpness (that's corny, but...I'm not sure how else to word it) She has also developed a sort of sixth "danger-sense" (My danger-senses are tingling! *bricked* XP) However, her little group was discovered at some point and all but her were robotisized.  This means she has not one but TWO near-misses with the robotisizer.  That said, she physically cannot bring herself to enter the building where the robotisizer is of her own free will.  She is TERRIFIED of it.  Even a glimpse of the machine will send her into a terror-freeze-up. What saved her from the same fate that second time?  A rescue by the freedom fighters (what else? :P) after which, she moved back with them, having lost all that she had worth staying in the city for, and has acted on several scouting missions in the forest since then, but has never gone back to the city...until now...

Hopefully that rounds out the character a bit more, and I can post her actual intro later.)

cco; Great stuff Vi! I think that's everyone so I'll hopefully get to post up later on tonight. I have got an interview at collage tomorrow so I'll be doing some prep for that, but with any luck I'll still get time. Thanks for sticking with it everyone ^_^

UPDATE!:  OMG! IMA-STUDENT AGAIN! Wooot! The interviewer's comment was that I was completely barmy and perfect for the course! And because I earn under 17k a year the course is paid for by them and I get a bursary!  Eeeeeee

On a more relevant subject, things should really be taking off this coming week as I'm on my Jollies, so loads of time to make stuff and write posts.  Next part is 30% written, its mostly there but I always go back and make tones of corrections and changes to the language used, so yeah it dosn't get the 70% that it ideally needs >_< 

Any-who, HOPEFULLY given I've got the day off I'll be able to get it glued together tonight, so long as I don't get distracted by masseffect two again... Mmmmmm Garrus..

“Well that’s a vote of confidence.”

A warm smile graced Sally’s face once more. Such a show of allegiance, especially after what some in this room had been through was worth every ounce of sweat and tears. It reminded her what she were fighting for.

“Thank you. All of you. Now I’m sure you’re anxious to get this awkward moment of the way. So let me bring you all up to speed.

As I said a moment ago, the bulk of your mission is to establish a forward post within the city limits. Most of you will have heard that around two hours ago we were in direct contact with the underground. It’s the first we’ve heard from them in nearly a month, but the news they brought to us was urgent.”

Picking up her personal computer Nicole, sally tapped a switch on the side of the table and plugged a cable from the data-pad into its appropriate port. Humming vibrations throbbed though the room as the crudely implanted metal grid in the stump’s surface began to strobe gently. Shafts of sickly light spiked out from the array, speckling the air with the spots of floating lint before flickering into a coherent image.

Amidst the hologram light coalesced into a scale model of robotropolise, its buildings and high walls represented by small solid blocks with no more detail then a child's wooden toy. Towards the far end lay the mutilated palace and at its base a few scattered dark-red cubes. Stretching away from this towards the north was an arch of fifteen others colour coded from light-red, to purple and finally blending back in with the rest of the blue buildings.

“The red buildings you’re seeing were the original active factories, all dedicated to swat-bot production. These new others have been reactivated over the last three weeks. According to what the cornel told us, not only are they being brought back online, but they are being retrofitted to build very specific components, ones that feature in no bot design we’ve seen before.”

Without looking away from the projection, Sally tapped nicole’s screen and observed as the model was replaced by a slowly rotating cube. One face displayed a bird’s eye view of the city while the other three cycled through data they had received that morning. An audio file hovered next to the whole array, oddly muted and out of the way.

“The info they’ve sent us shows that Robotnic has begun constructing a new form of weapon. Torhild believes it may be the culmination of the last two years of research. What we know about it is worrying enough but it’s what we don’t know that concerns me. If this is some new monstrosity, why has it taken so long to develop? What aspect of this thing makes it worth the effort robotnic seems to be pouring into its production? This is the primary reason for setting up a surface outpost. We need to find out exactly what this weapon is. Its capabilities and whether its production can be sabotaged before they start being deployed. For that task we’ll be providing you with explosives and whatever surveillance equipment rotor can salvage, and Torhild will be assigning one of his personal runners to your command.”

At this Sally shifted her stance uncomfortably, as though this was the part of the briefing she had actually been dreading. For the moment though she staved off her own private thoughts for the second part of the conversation.  Right now she need to make sure everyone present was following what she was telling them, lessening the blow for the true intent of their mission.

“Any questions so far?”

(OOC: Ack!  I'm getting left behind!  Ok...maybe not. But I missed
getting in in the intros.  Also...I'm guessing my char might have
gotten a few scars by now even though I didn't mention it in the
profile.  Oh well. Also...Question: Is Uncle Chuck in this at all?)

IC: Why didn't I leave when I had the chance? This sounds like a suicide mission... Pirraya stared at the display, the only indication of her nervousness being the occasional twitchy spasms in her long, tufted tail. She sighed, already knowing the answer. They NEED me...I lived for years on my own in that nightmarish h-hole...I doubt anybody here has the danger-senses I do... Her mind drifted breifly to those dark years....all the friends she had lost...Her foot twitched...but not out of nervousness...rather out of the desire to kick off as many SWATbot heads as it could...I HAVE to go...Not for me...not for the Freedom Fighters....Ok maybe for the Freedom Fighters...but mostly for...them... She squeezed shut her eyes, trying to force away the tears. "The others would not want me to give up...Nobody ever gave up...even when they were shoved into...that....THING...they fought on....always they faught on..."  She didn't realize she had gone from silent reminicence to mumbling, until she noticed several Freedom Fighters looking at her.  "Eh...heh......heh...S-Sorry. Thinking out loud...Don't mind me..."

TBC

(OOC: Meh.  Not my best. *shrug*)

Taffy glared over at the kangaroo rat, who had started talking to herself.  Great, so not just one, but two mentally-imbalanced Freedom Fighters?  I can almost see why they were selected, if this mission is even half as bad as it sounds...

She raised her hand.  "Yes, Taffy?" responded Sally.

"I have two questions," said Taffy, lowering her red-sleeved arm back to cross across her chest with her other one.  "One, do we have any locations specificially that we are thinking of for setting up this outpost?  And two - when do we leave?"

The sooner, the better, Taffy thought.

Mobius looks at everyone raising questions - he wasn't personally worried, as he knew the drill well enough and was well aware that sometimes the best experience came from being in the situation itself, rather than just asking about it. He trusted that the princess had already briefed them as much as necessary right now - the nervousness on many of the others faces was still understandable, since there was never any true certainties for a safe return, other than those based on your own sets of skills, knowledge and ability.

For the moment, the eagle watches and makes mental notes of those around him...he wanted to be sure that when the time came, he knew how his allies worked and what they were about - the missions success was always going to be based around how well teams worked together and how well you could rely on one another...and he didn't want to miss a trick, hint and idea of just what these candidates were about. 

Occ no worries vi, sry for posting before you’d finished there but I got the inspiration burst I needed to get this thing up on its feet. I should have thought about it more, sorry. Anywho, Anyone else who’s joining (nudge nudge Mike mike) needn’t worry about that first part, we’ll just assume that Sally knows that you are going anyway. Okay ^_^

IC

Nodding in response, Sally looked down at her pda and tapped lightly on its screen.

“Nicole, Highlight the map please.”

There was no response from the little unit, but the holograph seemed to react to her command either way. Folding inwards as its rotation slowed, the cube of light flattened out until it lay horizontally across the table. The now enlarged cityscape layout across the surface once again with its north most quadrant facing the princess.

“Choosing your final setup location will be mostly down to your judgment once you are inside. However there are three areas we have marked out as being suitable for supporting a staging post. Firstly, the Residential district.” She indicated a quadrant of small tightly packed buildings that occupied the Sothern most part of the city, a small green marker appearing as she did so.

“This area is probably the safest of the three. Patrols are few in number and cam-bots have regularly set paths rather than roaming areas. The buildings, though in disrepair should provide adequate cover and a foundation in which to construct your base, especially around emerald hill park. A bonus of using old housing of course is that you will be close to the old markets and will likely have access to running water. Thus food and water shouldn’t be an issue. The drawback is that this is the farthest you could possibly be from the facilities, the better part of three hours walk to the edge of the warehouse district. On top of that the tech salvage in that area is limited. Any large items you need would have to be brought from the junkyard, which is a long trek to say the least. That’s where the second option comes in.”

Her finger traced across the map, coming to rest over the middle of the junkyard that sprawled across the cities eastern side. Another green marker appeared above her extended digit and her eyes shifted back to the group.

“Central Junkyard, more than likely near the old Pipe Works. This is a middle option, you trade some security and prefabricated structures for access to all the salvage you need. You’ll also be pretty much half way between the new facilities and the markets. The patrols around that area are light but you will have wandering cam-bots to contend with. Of course the lack of buildings means no running water and where ever you set up base you will have to either use a gutted vehicle, or start from scratch beneath one of the scrap piles. Lastly, we have the warehouse district.” She said as the last marker flickered into existence a little way north of the second.

“Not the safest of places. You would have to deal regular heavy patrols and the cambots, but it would put you in the perfect position to launch gorilla strikes against the active facilities. Given the tight security you probably wouldn’t be able to make a permanent base, only a temporary post while you prepare for a strike. Nicole display data view above the map please.”

There was a brief moment of re-arrangement on the holograph’s part and cycling cube reappeared now floating a few feet above the flattened map.

“As for departure time. Once this briefing is over, you will have an hour to collect whatever you need and tie up loose ends before we set out to the rendezvous. We’ll drop by your lab Max, so there’s no need to go out there beforehand.”

“Okay then. Anything else on people’s minds before we move on?”

Max nodded at Sally's mention of picking up some explosives from her lab.  While crude, they'd prove quite handy.  The options were interesting too, and while Max was leaning toward the warehouse district for the ability to do some damage, she knew she'd probably get shot down.  That choice was probably best left to the group once everyone got their bearings.  But still, there were a couple of things nagging in the back of Max's head, so she raised her hand.

"Yes, Max?"

"Couple quick questions, Sally.  First, rearming and resupplying.  Am I right in thinking that we're going to be limited to whatever we can find for weaponry, or is the underground going to have anything set aside for us?  And second..." Max looked around before asking, unsure of how to word it.  "I prolly don't have to ask this, but I will anyway: if by some chance we encounter the fat man and can get the drop on 'em, would you mind it if we dropped whatever we were doing and sent his ass to hell?"  Max knew the answer already: there would be nothing more satisfying to any of the Freedom Fighters in the room or anywhere else than to see Robotnik blown to smithereens, but she figured hearing the possibility of it happening would pump some of the more apprehensive Mobians in the room up.

Also, it never hurt to get permission first.

Robotnic Vs Max... that image brought a smirk of approval to her features. Even if she did not succeed, the petite mouse would probably level half the city trying. It would make for quite the fireworks display. ‘Serious face Sally girl.’ Bunny’s voice echoed somewhere within her psyche ‘We still want a city to go back to after all’.

The princess cleared her throat. “So long as direct contact is not involved, Max, take the opportunity should it come. But remember, assassination is not a goal of this mission. Whatever actions you take should never risk your team being discovered or lose sight of why you are there in the first place. Mind you, should the good doctor happen to visiting a facility you’re about to sabotage, double-up the charges and drop the whole damn building on his fat head.  Then blow up the rubble that's left, to be absolutely sure”

There was a moment or two of pause while the chuckle though out the room evaporated, “As for supplies, you would be mostly on your own. No doubt the Cornell will lend you whatever aid he can. However, other than the runner he assigns, your contact with the underground will be limited. Somewhat deliberately... we’ll come to that part later. Ahh, any more questions?”

Mobius had noticed a little something - it hadn't been an immediate issue, but now there was that nagging feeling that something was amiss - he looked around, it seemed like there was no mention being made of it, and it almost appeared like nobody else had spotted the obvious misdirection being left in play. The eagle smirked, and coughed loudly...not even raising a hand as he spoke. 

"Excuse me, Princess - While I usually have the UTMOST respect for your leadership ability and honest nature, there's something I just realised that...well...is beginning to unsettle my feathers in all the wrong places." He started, folding his arms in front of his chest - he had to call her out on this.   

OOC: WOW! I'm gone a day and, well, look at all these posts! I had thought about making a post even typed it up, but there's not much my character can do at the moment. 
  

Sally froze; the question caught her completely off guard.
A long drawn out moment passed as she stared down at the mute symbol.  She’d deliberately forgotten about that,
pushed as the experience was to the far reaches of her mind.  Now it flowed back for an instant, like an
inky black wave washing over white sands of thought.  A fleeting look of panic overtook the young
princesses’ eyes before the emotions were wrestled back into their rightful
place.

“Nicole...” She said distantly, gazing into the hologram “Show
file ‘Shriek one O’ one’ ”

Though once more Nicole did not seem to react, cube
blinked from existence and was replaced by the floating icon of an audio file.  Abnormally the file carried the symbols of password
security and was separately muted along with Nicole’s own sound lock. Three
layers of ‘proofing’ lay between this file and the outside world.  Bellow the name ‘shriek101’ hung in neon lettering.  The onlookers shared a thought.  She had seemed so uneasy though out the briefing
and this file seemed to be the centre of her anxiety.

“This audio file was part of the data along with the images.  A recording taken by one of the
underground.  You could say it’s the
weapon’s name sake.”

The woman paused again, still staring at the checkerboard
surface of the table.  Her entire demeanour
had shifted so suddenly, now most of the volunteers were feeling the unease spread
thought them like wildfire.

“..Nicole.” she said with an edge of determination “..Unmute.”

A click of charged speakers emanated from the little
unit, followed by a smooth monotone voice “Affirmative sally, awaiting
instruction.”

“Nicole,” She breathed “Unmute and unlock file Shriek101.
Authorization Soucie67”

“Affirmative Sally. 
Warning, a personal alert has been attached to this file. Its activation
is likely to have a similar effect on others in the vicinity to those
previously observed.  Are you sure that
you wa-”

“Yes I am sure, Nicole” Sally butted in, “Better they
hear it for the first time in a safe place then on the battlefield.  Set an eight second playback window and wait
for instruction.”

Looking to the faces of her friends, the squirrel gazed
upon each of them earnestly “Are you ready for this? It isn’t pretty.”

There was a silent consensus throughout the room, none
objected and no one approved.

“Nicole.  Play
Audio file Shriek101.”

...

It was several minutes later.  Those still on their feet aided those who had
fallen. The jumpier members of the group took a little longer to gather and
were gradually pried away from walls with comforting words.  Trembling weekly they gathered yet again
around the table, adrenalin’s grip fading and leaving a stream of unpaid bills
behind.

Sally stood leaning heavily against the stump, one hand
rubbing her forehead. The sound was.. abhorrent.  There was nothing that walked the face of
mobious which could produce a squall akin to what they had just experienced.  ‘Shriek’ was the only word that could describe
it, but it did little convey its true and terrible nature.  It was like the agonised squealing of broken gears,
shearing away in dissonance as they bit into something organic and bestial.

Two seconds into the recording it had already engulfed them;
swamping their senses, plunged though their fur and the skin beneath. 

Three seconds in, and it became an ice cold wind that
spoke straight to their very bones.  All
in the room had felt the same conclusion rushing up from the depths of ancient
survival instinct.  Run, RUN!

“I.. I really wish they hadn’t locked the levels on that
thing.  Is everyone okay?”

OOC: Guess I spoke to soon!

Ison lay on the hard wood floor. His whole right side was in a dull state of pain. The noise had came out of nowhere scareing the poor Ison, and naturally he was literally climbing walls. He spent almost two minutes attached to the rightmost wall, hanging there like odd decor. Throughout that whole time he was sure he had gone deaf. He heard no sound after, after whatever that was. Tears were rolling down his furry face. Soon after he heard someone calling out to him. He wasn't sure who it was, but it was clear. He hadn't lost his hearing.

He began to tremble and shake, so much in fact that he lost his grip and came crashing down to the floor. He landed hard on his right side, and laid there for several minutes more. He looked around and saw his future comrades. They too were dealing with the aftermath of, of whatever that was. He then tried to pull himself to his feet, unsucessfully. He fell back onto his backside and stared up at the ceiling. The room began to spin around him and the pits of his stomach began to churn. He was about to vomit. The feline quickly tried to turn on his side to no avail. He coughed and agged as the bile creapt up his throat. More began to seep up, and Ison still couldn't bring himself to roll over. He closed his eyes.

Was this it? Is Ison's story over before it even began. Ison felt someone's hands grab his vest and pull him over onto his side. He coughed and gagged until it was all out of his system. The surrounding world slowed to a crawl, and Ison regained a bit of strength. Someone was asking him if he was alright, but he wasn't sure who. He pulled his right leg up to his chest and rolled until he was on all fours. He then rose to his feet, slowly, still a little bit shakey. "Wh-what th-the heh-hell was th-that?" he stammered looking around the room.

OOC: BTW The sickness came from disorientation in case you didn't gather that from my post!

Gathering her wits and steadying her breathing, sally pushed herself up from
the table and looked glassy eyed at Ison. 
Her voice was still unsteady but seemed to have at least found bedrock
on which to stand.

“That, was the last sound recorded by one of the tunnel-rat’s,
whom managed to infiltrate an underground testing silo.  Most of the images we have are from
the backup unit of his personal cam.  That sound was recorded
right before the signal was cut off.  There's more to it as well, though I'd really rather not have to play it all.”

Turning away from the gathering for a few moments, she retrieved a fallen chair and sat down in front of the table from.  With a steadying breath she continued a little more surely, observing the other shaken faces “It
is the main reason I’m so reluctant to send you all in.  Was this not absolutely necessary, I’d simply wait
for Sonic to get back and hope it wasn’t too late to stop whatever plans Robotnic has for this creation.” 

Mobius stood up, having blacked out virtually from that little outburst - what he HAD heard before passing out briefly had been a monstrously loud cacophony of noise...he could still taste the bile that had risen from his stomach, but he hadn't vomited - luckily enough, he'd passed out before it had ever truly gotten that far. He groaned loudly as he rubbed his temples, grabbing his hat from the floor and placing it back on his head.

Humourless eyes found their way to Mobi.  “There is another reason why we have to send
a team in to investigate separately, Mobious.”

Pawing at her computer, Sally turned back to the hologram
where two new images were unfolding in place of the dreaded sound file.  One looked similar to a swat-bot schematic.  The other was the minuets from the communication
with the underground. Most of the conversation was tinted a deep blue that
strained the eyes to read. But here and there, individual words had been
highlighted vivid white, indicating some higher purpose.  Distance image, Asset, ThreeWeeks, Wishful, Window.

“Some of you may already know that until eight years ago,
the resistance was headed by Cornell Torhild. 
Back in those first years of fighting they had no way of gathering intel consistently.  No one to open holes in the security
grid, or to keep track of patrols from inside the city walls.  Knothole lost a lot of good people.  The underground was Torhild’s solution.  A network of small cells, each connected thinly to the other, each gathering info on a given part of the city.  They could get the Intel the resistance desperately needed and later provide safe routs into the
city.  However, before set out he ensured
the right people had the knowledge they needed to carry on the resistance.  That man taught me virtually everything I know
about Guerrilla warfare, including how to hide a personal message so that only the
two of us could understand them.

She tapped on Nicole’s screen again and the image of the transcript
enlarged.

“What he said was worrying enough.  What he told Me, was downright distressing.
First off let’s look at the known facts; The underground has been out of
contact for three weeks.  Why?  Increased activity is not a reason to shut down
an entire information network, if anything it’s a reason to step it up a gear.  He gave no adequate explanation, which means
either he’s hiding the truth behind a thin lie, or that he ‘can’t’ tell us.  Secondly, he asked for sonic up front.  Now disregarding the fact that the Cornell has
very little patience for Sonic’s attitude towards missions, he would never ask
for a main ‘asset’ to be deployed so readily.  Not without knowing more about the situation
it may face at least.  Finally, he uses completely
the wrong phrasing when suggesting a security gap.  He specifically uses the word ‘Window’, as in
‘transparent’.  He thinks that someone is
watching him, despite the precautions he’s taken, so we are to deceive them.”

Picking up the personal computer, she stood up from her
chair and began rearranging the swat-bot schematic.  Another virtually identical blue print appeared
next to the first and both grew in size, the transcript shrinking away to make
space.

After a few moments of tinkering with the palm computer,
Sally raised her head to the images “The blueprint on the right was sent with
the first data package.  At first it
looks like a slightly modified Swat-bot.  Nicole, subtract Schematic one from blueprint
one and extrapolate the remaining outlines.”

Silently the two images rotated until they faced one
another.  In one smooth motion they slid together and split away again, leaving one normal blueprint and an image that contained a
system of lines and markers.  As the bot
image vanished, the remaining pattern pivoted on its axis and floated down to
the map that still hovered above the projection surface.  After few moments of blinking and twisting, the
lines found a match with the river running way from the southeast of the city.

“This map shows an old access tunnel that runs parallel with
the river.  It has been blocked up for
the better part of a decade and there are seismographic sensors watching for
any attempt to open it up again.  So why
would he hide a map from even his own men? 
There are only two answers I can derive from all of this.  Either Torhild has either grown an exceptionaly
paranoid bent, which I sincerely doubt. 
Or, that he believes that the underground has been irreparably compromised.  Whomever he sends to meet you at this entrance, is likely to be one of the few he still trusts.”

IC:  Pir had been thinking of suggesting to Max that she shove a bomb down Robotnik's throat just for her, since she probably lacked the courage to confront the despot herself, when the recording was played.  The kangaroo rat had shot right out of her seat and latched herself to one of the ceiling rafters, where she clung for several minutes, ears pinned flat, trying to retain the contents of her stomach.  That...was...there were no words to describe the horror of that sound...Someone eventually coaxed her down; there was an embarrassing wet spot on the rafter where she had attached herself.  She felt like hiding UNDER her chair...if not from the sound then from the embarrassment of what it had made her do.  However, she gathered what composure she could and returned to her seat, attempting to refocus on the mission-breifing.

TBC

Ison, still a bit dizzy, sat down on the floor as he watched the princess express her worries over the assignment. He tried to pay attention to her, but her words seemed to excape him. He was still shaken by the sound wave and was trying to calm his nerves. Her took several deep breaths and satred directly at the princess.
"...Secondly, he asked for sonic up front.  Now disregarding the fact that the Cornell has very little patience for Sonic’s attitude towards missions, he would never ask for a main ‘asset’ to be deployed so readily.  Not without knowing more about the situation it may face at least..." Sally stated as Ison focused on her speech for a brief second.
The feline glanced down at the ground again. After hearing that thing he was beginning to have second thoughts. If one of the "top dogs" felt that Sonic was a necessity then how could this odd group of individuals hope to have any chance? He looked at Sally and wondered what was scrolling through her thoughts at this moment. Did she have any faith in this mission at all? Surely she must if she's willing to carry it out. Then again who says she's willing? It seems she's doing it because she feels its Knotholes only option.  He knew he probably wasn't the only one thinking this, so he swallowed the feeling and rose to his feet. Troubling situations like these were taxing on everyone. The worst part of it all was no one would really now if it was the right decision until it was all over. Ison let loose a weak smile to calm his fears and listened to the rest of what Sally had to say.
"...Or, that he believes that the underground has been irreparably compromised.  Whomever he sends to meet you at this entrance, is likely to be one of the few he still trusts.” Sally stopped there.
Ison looked around at his comrades. This was going to be a tough one, and the success or failure depended on these individuals. "Let's pray we've got what it takes to succeed!" Ison thought to himself.

Silence hung as a tangible curtain of sour ether.  Sally knew the meeting had been an
utter train wreck.  Astute as she normally
was, girl had not been thinking straight since first hearing that sound.  Was she wrong to ask this of them?  Now the words were laid out before an audience
she had to admit the whole thing sounded like a pointless debacle that could
only result in the shading of more Mobian blood.

...

This was not the way a leader thought. Not even a cold
one.  Not even those facing the crushing
defeat or a last furious charge would stoop wallow in self pity and regret when
their men’s moral dibbled away like so much soiled water.  Again she looked around at the volunteers, her
people, her family.  And from somewhere
within her breast pride lifted her upwards. 
They were still there weren’t they? 
All of them stood before her, anxious, unsure of what their future may be
about to let slip upon them, yet holding the line despite all the ugly news she
had thrown their way.  Sally straightened
up with renewed vigour pouring along every fibre of her being.  When she spoke her voice seemed to be devoid
of weight and held within it all the soul it had been lacking throughout the briefing.

 â€œYou can see now, why it has to be you.” A moment passed
as she allowed this to sink into people’s thoughts.  Coming from anyone else right now, that would
have sounded like a death sentence.  Yet
there was something about her voice that made it sound lighter, almost inspiring.
“Sending people whose abilities are too polarised simply wouldn’t work.  Yes there are people who are more talented
when it comes to their respective field. 
Yes there are those who have far more experience surviving in the city.  Yet I would rather have the five of you on
this mission then a hundred of those so called ‘experts’ in the whole
resistance.  Because when it comes to the
pinch, ‘they’ would just be a group of individuals, only looking out for their
own hides.” 

 She leaned forwards into the hologram, eyes never leaving
theirs. “You are not the best and more importantly you know it.  So if you cannot rely on yourself, who will
you rely on?  The experts? They’re too busy
with their own problems.  Me? That I have
faith in your goal means nothing once you’re within those smoke stained walls.  The spirits? They have never shown their clemency
to those who did not earn it for themselves. You cannot trust in any of these.  What matters most, now and always, is that you
can trust in one another. That while individually week, with your conviction this
mission can and WILL succeed.  And that each
man and woman will do ALL in their power to see that every single one of you make
it back here to tell the tale.  Is there
any one of you who would not risk their life for another?  Could any of you stand idle whilst unknown
horrors bear down upon this last bastion of our people?   I already know the answer and I suspect you
do too.  Nicole, Unmute.  Display operation ‘Window’.”

Hissing static was all that the small computer had time
to say before the next order was barked out. 
“Affirmative Sally”

In a blur of blue light the hologram spun and rearranged itself
into an aerial view of the city, including the new tunnel and the surrounding terrain.  Down river, some way south where the land was
still green, a yellow dot hung expectantly. 
In the west its red counterpart floated rigidly at the edge of the tree
line.

“The transmission we sent back to the underground sets
our infiltration for 0600 tomorrow morning, just as the sun rises.  Your team will already be encamped by this
time in the caves near this location, this will give you time to any last minute
gear prep or discuss your plans.  The ‘Red’
team consisting of select people who turned down the true mission will be lead
by Antoine and myself.  At daybreak, Red
team will begin moving towards the west most entrance, the one into the
scrapheap.”

As she spoke the red marker slid along the map in a wide arch,
pushed by an arrow that grew out from behind it.

"Predicting the worst case scenario, we will be fully
expecting an ambush either before or just after we reach the waypoint. Should
this not happen, we will enter the city and attempt to sabotage the scrapheap power
plant.  Meanwhile,” At this word the
yellow dot began to slowly advance along the river “unknown to the Red team,
your team will have started advancing towards the entrance. Everything should
be in your favour.  Not only is the
tunnel mouth far enough out to be away from any regular patrol routs, the mist
and shadow cast of the river side cliffs should give you more than enough cover
to walk right under any bots that do happen to fly overhead.  By the time Red is beating its retreat; you
will have successfully reached the tunnel entrance and already be making your
way into the city.  The cornel’s man is
likely to be waiting for you somewhere between the entrance and the rest of the
service tunnels that this one links up with. 
They will have to guide you from there, but where they go is entirely
down to your decisions.  They’ll get you
from point a too point b unseen and hopefully provide any equipment Torhild has
managed to put to one side. Rest assured he knows you’re coming, and despite
the problems he has likely got on his paws already, he won’t simply abandon you
to the city once you’re inside. He’ll need you as much as you will need him.”

“Now,” she concluded “Are there any more questions? Or are you ready to be the one's who brake the seige of Troy?"

" So let me get this straight... "

Mobius started to speak, a smirk on his features as he put his hands in his pockets, thinking about this little briefing as he spoke - he'd been giving everything some deep thought, and had been mentally considering his perspective on all of this.

" You're asking us, a bunch of ne'er-do-wells and scruffs, to go out into the big wide evil world of the Doc' and talk to some guy, who's probably half a bowl short of a full cereal load, in order to find out information about a weapon of mass audio disruption that, depending on if it exists, can drive us all either crazy, deaf, or some place inbetween...and establish an outpost right in god knows where in order to monitor and establish just what in the sam hill is going on in that crazy ol' town of Grey Smoke and doom? "

The eagle looked around at the room, chuckling a little - nobody was really sure what to think or say and he didn't blame them.

If he hadn't been in the position he was now and who he was at this time in his life, he probably would have turned tail-feather and fled like any other sane person in this little gathering. This whole mission wasn't exactly something that any old person would just spring into action and agree to.

(OOC: "Weapon of mass audio disruption" XDXD Brilliant, Mobi. NOt quite sure what to have my character do right now, so this may be short...)

IC: Despite herself, Pirraya chuckled at the eagle's little pun. "Heh heh...good one." She coughed nervously and resumed seriousness.  "It may seem like a crazy suicide mission, but I'm in completely.  Sometimes crazy is the only thing that works.  And I'd rather die fighting than spend an eternity in a mindless, metalic shell!" She gave the pirincess a little salute. Despite the fact that I always used to run screaming the other way...But NOT any more!

TBC

(OOC: Meh.  All I've got. *shrug*)

"Man, years of being around bombs blowin' up, I'd think my ears would be better equipped to deal with sounds like that." Max grumbled as she stood up.  "Yeah, I'm still in on this.  Someone's gotta blow up the fat man's boom-box, after all."  I just need to make sure that I bring my earplugs with me...

Ison grinned and gave the thumbs up, "I've already talked myself into this, there is no turning back! In a city comrised mostly of trash and junk, I can definitely prove a valuable asset!" Ison let a small laugh roll out as he scratched the back of his head. He had some reservations about that last comment, but everyone else seemed gung-ho so he might as well follow suit! "Heh, I travel light so there's no need for prep for me right now. I'm ready whenever you are!"

occ-
Ohla peoples.
Unless anyone has anything to add that's basically the end of the prologue! YAYS!
Okays. So you all have an hour or so to say your goodbyes and INTERACT! Omg! So chat! Get to know one another as you leave the meting, talk to people you know in the village, if you have loved ones tell them to be brave and keep safe, or tinker with explosives what ever your character would do to prepare. Rotor is going to provide plenty of equipment and rations for your team, so the only other things you may need are character specific items. Mike your character is actually at the meeting but has remained silent thought, unless you want to comment now (just post up a placeholder saying so).
Btw dose anyone think its a little quick for them to be leaving?  The idea was that they would move out earleir than the distraction team and spend the night in the forrest waiting for the window, but looking at it I may have been a little over zellous with that.
Anywho, I'll be posting up something a little later this week at the very least, either colecting Sally's thoughts or brining in random npcs to chat with players.  Remember this might be the last chance to tie up those loose ends, and an opertunity to show what you're charcters are like before heading into the belly of the beast. If no one dose anything, I'll use my post to engage a few people anyway.  Ah, also observe! New chapter title! ^_^

There was something else I really needed to add into this post but I fogets.. oh well, I'm headed to bed now anyway, sure I'll remmeber tomorow at work >.<

IC:

"So...um...one hour, huh? Guess I'll be back then..."  The kangarroo rat made a b-line for the exit. Ordinarily, she might have stayed a little longer, but...well...there was something she had to do first... and she was a little embarrased by her reaction to that...SOUND.  She went straight for her hut and the shower within.  Fifteen minutes later, her shower was finished. "Ah...that's better. Hopefully nobody noticed that that rafter was a bit damp Eh..hehheh..." She laughed nervously to herself. "I just about died of embarrassment back there...Now...what do I need?" 

She set about packing.  Not that she needed much.  A few changes of clothes, a few personal items...she didn't really have much.  She made sure her light-blue headband was securly in place on her head...she didn't want to lose THAT.  It had been a present...from...She squeezed her eyes shut.  No time to dwell on that. He wasn't coming back...he COULDN'T come back...all because of that...that...MADMAN and his acursed machine...She added several tresured photographs of lost family and friends and a locket with the picture of her ill-fated boyfriend to the pile.  With that, she folded up the cloth that was to hold it all, stuck it on the forked end of a stick and set out for the rendevous point.

TBC

(OOC: Meh. That seemed a bit rushed...Oh well. Can't win 'em all. *shrug*)

(OOC: Well, looks like I'm all set. Looks good and all! Glad to roleplaying with everyone again, been too long.)

"Count me in, as well." he said, as some had already left to prepare and some had stayed to think. "The tyrant does need a good scare, afterall." Nari added, with a smirk.

Mobius smirked as he watched the raccoon - there was always a silent one, he mused, and he hadn't been surprised that the individual who had so silently observed up until this point had remained quiet up until the last moment of the meeting. Still, the eagle thought to himself, now was the time to go and get his stuff - there was a lot to think about over the coming days, and he wanted to be sure that he was somewhat prepared for anything...whether it was an immediate offensive retaliation or a stealthy investigative glance into the oppositions current warfare tactics.

He also didn't know what to think of the guy that was supposedly their contact - many a time had he heard of paranoia ruining good men and breaking them down into near psychotic shadows of their former selves...and when faced with something so dangerous as this 'shriek' thing, he had his doubts that there was any logical thinking going on. He had to remember to observe his friends, along with his enemies, because sometimes the lines would blur in a situation like this - Agendas, Mentalities, States of mind...they were all factors in the actions of those around him and of those he would be working with...and with such pressure upon each of them, there were no guarentees that things would go as smoothly as the princess clearly dreamt they would.

Turning sharply on his heels, he started to head off out of the meeting room to go prepare himself a small suitcase of essentials, clothes and some personal affects - there were no excuses for lack of preperation and he did NOT intend on screwing even one detail up...

Ison slowly exited the meeting room behind Mobius. He didn't know the eagle, but felt comfort in knowing he was on the team. He didn't know exactly what it was, but the feeling was sincere. He headed off in the opposite direction from Mobius. He had thought about heading off for the rendevous, but decided against it. Instead he stopped by what posed as his house and entered inside. The hut was shoickingly bare, well bare when compared to sililar residences. Just a simple bed, a small wooden desk, and an old patched up oak chair (with the upper left leg being made of metal). He made his way to the desk, somewhat tripping over the uneven floor. He stood over it gazing down at a small piece of stationary. The paper was blank, and the small layer of dust on top revealed that it has been some while ago when the sheet was placed there. Ison casually scopped it, brushed the dust off, folded it four times, and placed it inside the right chest pocket of his fishing vest. He wasn't sure how, but he felt that it may prove useful in the future, afterall there wasn't much else he could take with him. There was no utensil for writting, but that didn't matter.

He took a long breath. He was really going to go through with this. He closed his eyes. He had almost came in contact with on of Robotnik's bot patrols while living in the forest one day. He had a fire going that night which was most likely the reason the squad came to investigate. Ison had hidden himself inside a small pile of leaves and patiently waited until the bots either left or captured him. They eventually went away forcing Ison to rethink the ways he survived in the forest. He avoided contact with Robotnik's forces at all costs. He didn't want to wind up like the citizens of Mobotropolis. This current mission wasn't so much different from his time in the woods. The differences were contact (even though best to be avoided) with the enemy would most likely occur at some point, and he had allies. Ison gave a sideways grin and extended his left index finger (was was left handed), and placed it on the dusty desk. He then proceeded to write his intials in the dirt with the bottom right of the "I" connecting to the bottom left of the "B". He turned and exited the not so humble abode.

There was a small berry bush that grew outside his hut, just on the right as you exited. Ison didn't know what kind of berries they were, but he knew they were edible. He stopped beside it and picked several handfuls, placing them inside the bottom most pockets on his vest. "In a city with scarce supplies, every bit helps," he said to himself zipping up the pockets. He stood in place and thought on if there was anything else he should bring along. He looked down at the ground thinking on whether he wanted to take a few of the stones stationed at his feet or not. He may need the available pocket space for items he found later, but then again he could just discard the stones if it ever came to that. So he knealt down and grabbed four to five small stones and placed them in his left chest pocket. At that he felt as if he was as prepared as he'll ever be. He had no friends (he never bothered to converse with people unless he had to), he had no family (they are Robotnik's family now), no one to say goodbye to other than Princess Sally herself and he'll say his goodbyes when she sends them off. A thought did pop into his mind. Somewhat macabre, but it didn't matter. This mission could be the perfect time to finally make some friends.

Taffy hesitated when the group was sent their separate ways.  She was slow to get up, distracted by her thoughts (which she had been startled out of during the meeting by that horrendous sound, a sound that brought back painful memories she wanted to flee from), and so by the time she reached the door, many of the others had already left, including...him.

It's...it's just a coincidence, anyway, she thought as she went toward the infirmary huts, annoyed with herself.  I'm going on this mission to make a difference, to end the ennui of staying here in this village waiting for...I don't know what I'm waiting for.  I don't know what I want anymore.

A breeze picked up in the Great Forest, and her black bangs got into her eyes.  She neatly brushed them back into place as she reached the main infirmary hut of Knothole.  As she stepped into the shelter of the infirmary, a tenseness she had not been aware of left her shoulders.  Here, there was order.  Here, there was peace.  She closed her eyes briefly, walking through the infirmary without seeing it, knowing her way well enough that she could get through it all blindfolded.  The hallways, wooden as they were, were still painted white and other bright colors to better simulate the healing environment of the hospital, to preserve that tradition for those who were never old enough to have been in such a place.  She passed the pediatric section, hearing the cries of young ones as they laughed or cried; the critical condition area, where the gentle wheeze of victims was the only sound to disturb the deathly peace; and then there was the doctor's office, small by necessity to keep space available for more patients and equipment.

She opened her eyes, and walked by the desk to the cabinet.  She fought the cabinet's lock, as she always did, with a certain familiarity that yielded success to her as she realized it may be the last time she would have to deal with the stubborn door.  With practiced efficiency, she gathered together the supplies she required into her medic's kit bag, the bandages and herbs, the ointments and pills that would salve the many kinds of wounds that robots or worse could inflict.  Here, the sterile smell of antiseptic; there, the calming scent of mint as it rubbed between her fingers.

"So, you're headed out?"

Taffy finished sorting her supplies and zipped up the bag, hoisting it up onto her shoulder; she had long since gotten used to the burden of carrying a heavy bag.  She stared out the small window at the sunlight that streamed in, as she considered her mentor's inquiry.  "Yes," she said at last, raising her hand up to her other arm and rubbing gently against the flannel of her red shirt.  "It's time I moved on, like you say I should, isn't it?"

Her mentor, the lead physician in Knothole and its best surgeon, stepped up behind her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  "When you're ready, of course.  The past will always be there for you to see it when you come back to it...but the future won't come to you.  You will have to go to it."

Images flashed into Taffy's mind; the memory of a kind face, a deep voice that made her heart tremble, the soothing touch of a warm hand in her own...

"You're right," said Taffy, turning to face her old mentor, her eyes bright and sharp.  "I'm going."

"Take care, young one."

They hugged.  Taffy took a sniff into the white lab coat, knowing she would miss that mixture of antiseptic and herbal essences that somehow got infused into the infirmary.  She had always tried to be so detached, but her mentor was the one person she would have to say goodbye to.

"And come back, will you?  I cannot have my best student rotting in the city forever."

They broke the hug, and Taffy nodded up at her superior.  "I'll be back," she said, with a fleeting smile, before she brushed past him to head toward the exit and ultimately, to the rendezvous point.

I made a promise back then...maybe this is how I should keep it.

At the rendezvous point, however, she found herself suddenly alone with Ison.  A lot of her resolve melted away as she saw him, and as she stepped up to the old log to lean a foot against it, she scowled at him, somewhat annoyed.  It would have to be him, huh?

"So what's your name?" she asked abruptly, glaring at him - though she was unaware of the intensity of her gaze.  "I'm Taffy Tanner."

OOC: There we go, some interaction maybe!

The gathering was now done... for the moment, until the group would rejoin with one another; resupplied and ready for adventure, suicide or necessity. Nari left not too long after the eagle, Mobius did. He needed to prepare, which meant gathering any minor rations he had and well... getting ready for a mission. He shook his head as he took a light breath. "May infinity help us all." he muttered.

Suitable enough. The thought came to mind, but nothing much more as he went to recall in his mind information about the rendezvous point. He nodded and started a trek towards that, expecting at least some of the people to be ready at this point. He couldn't do much else at this point, anyway.