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Drawoff/Writeoff; Write/Draw, sounds like fun!
Topic Started: Mar 29 2011, 03:12 AM (823 Views)
UmiNigai
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Resident Dragon
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Kerl: Hehe.. Props for drawing on whatever you have handy... It took a little work, though I recognized it as a character sheet right off... Never heard of Mutants and Masterminds before this though.
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Kerl
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Umi: lol! Guilty as charged- I just had the urge to draw something so grabbed the neares bit of paper handy. I think its one of Rey's charachter sheets (the Cross-Fox you've met in Behind the Curtain and briefly in the Battle Royale)

Mutants and Masterminds is a superhero RP system and epic fun. lots of silliness and randomness can take place when you start with play with a shapeshifting fox (Rey- the slightly snarky member of the team, teamed up with a demon-possesed boy (who once turned into a giant rabbit) and and a huge alien (who has a running tally on the number of walls destroyed) and the mad minion controller (who once turned himself into an old granyy and knitted Rey a sweater- the pics in my DA scraps until re-done.) Back on topic a little, if I started writing annecodtes fomr that, their'd be enough material to illustrate many pictures. Actually, my writing submission was going to be from D&D- It involves fire, jetskis and hands. I;ll add detail shortly :-)

Edit- DevilFox: I've never managed to tell someone to take a hike by accident before! And he's not neccesarily a fox, note the coyote esque ruff and ear floofs! As I said, random scribble!
Edited by Kerl, May 2 2011, 04:10 AM.
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devilfox1
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I see it now! I knew it was one of the two (fox or coyote).
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UmiNigai
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With the markings at the end of the tail, it looks more fox-ish to me.
Perhaps it's a hybrid? A Foyote? A Cox? Coyox sounds better. Vulpes Latrans. (Barking fox?)
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Kerl
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He could well be a hybrid! One of my friends (who I've pretty much persuaded to join in once his exams are finished) does have a Coyox (I like the latin name their, Umi!) charachter in his backstory, going by the name of Soren. The guy was in my mind at the time, so you never know!

Or I could fill that tail-dip in black and call it as the "Coyote fire-carrying patch!"

Edit: Just finished the first part (I have no idea how long this could get. My thoughts tend to run and run) of my write up to go with Devilfoxes picture for your perusal and comment before I write part two. Continuin and ealier observation of needing more birds!

A Short Trip down Pirate Alley
The four airships moved purposefully through the skies, heading east from the coast of Airmerica (OOC: Yes to semi alternate universes and a lack of creative naming!) around them drifted a mixed flock of long-range interceptor planes. Despite the war with the Forebodians* having finished several years ago, the pilots were still on high alert as some carrier-crews had gone rogue, taking to preying upon trader airships passing between the now-at-peace countries.

The convoy consisted of the U.A.A (United Airmerica Airship) destroyer “Leander” followed by the three merchants A.S (Air-ship) Mons Meg, A.S Wolf of Baddenoch and A.S Lord President** of the Scotair-Nova Scotair shipping line.

On the bridge of the Leander, Commander Reginald McLufferey rubbed his forehead. He’d heard of the term herding cats but hadn’t realised its full import until he’d met the S-NS’s obstinate trio of feline commanders, each with their own idea how the convoy should be run and which course was the safest. He’d finally had to fire a warning shot from the heavy guns mounted under his ships prow to force them into a sullen line and made them agree to take the most direct route across, regardless of the risk from renegades present in the area. He didn’t have time for self-opinionated fools and anyone watching the Harris Hawk stride the deck would be able to read the frustration in his gait and mannerisms.

Behind him, the radio operators head came up “Commander, incoming signal from the ‘Wolf. Reginald, known as Reg to his friends, sighed. Now what? With a world-weary voice he says “Put him through”
The voice of bob-cat in command of the ‘Wolf filled the commanders head set. “Commander. Get your flunky to patch us through” the cat begins. Reginald clicks his beak, cutting the cat off “What do you want?”
“Really, no need for more rudeness on your part, we’ve already readied the complaints”
A further harsh click echoes along the line “What Do You WANT?” The commander repeats.
Finally cowed for now, the cat responds directly “Only to inform you that we are experiencing issues with one of our engines and need to stop for repairs”
The commander’s feathers go up “Really? In the middle of Pirate Ally? Can’t we or one of your sister ships take you in tow?”
“Towed?” The cat makes a derisive sniff “My dear commander, it is below our dignity to accept such aid. I’d rather die”
“You damn well will when the pirates catch up to you!” the commander calls into the headset.
“It’s your job to protect us, isn’t it?” the cat replies smugly “Therefore, you’re stopping and that’s final” he hangs up.
The commander removes his head set and throws it onto his little-used command seat. “What really annoys me is that the fool is right.” He mutters, half to himself. By this point the bridge crew are making a point of not meeting his eye. Straightening up, he turns to the coms operator, a racoon and calls “Mr Bailey! Signal the outfliers up currently to return to the Leander, then ask flight commander Kireli to organise them to patrol out in pairs. Looks like we might be here for a little while. Then signal the other two merchants to heave to until their colleague makes the repairs. The racoon salutes quickly, then gets to work, nimble paws flying across his console as he arranges the necessary connections…

Half an hour later, the commanders mood hadn’t improved much. So much so, the call from the radar operator of “Bogies! 10 fighters at 12’ o clock high and a parent vessel!” actually improved his mood. He hadn’t been sent on a time-waster job then, he’d actually have the opportunity to fire in anger. His face sets and he takes up a braced position in the centre of the bridge, snapping orders to the crew with ease born of familiarity.

“Op’s! Hit the button to tell all flights to launch A.S.A.P then engage at will.”- “Aye commander!”
“Com’s! Tell the two outfliers already up to get into the sun and prep to stoop. Do not, I repeat do not let them engage that lot head-on with numbers against them. Then bring the other captains online. Order them to fall in behind us. If they argue, record it so we can demonstrates it’s was their failing”
“Helm! Bring us about so we’re between the intruder and the ‘Wolf

A chorus of “Aye, commanders” follow as the crew jump to obey. The hawk presents an image of calm on the outside, despite inside his finely tuned sense running through all possibilities. The first few minutes were always the hardest as the time ticked by without him being able to influence events, the ponderous speed of the ship meaning that it relied on its outliers and point-defences to engage the attackers before he was actually able to see directly what was happening. To get the best idea in advance, he moves over to stand behind the radar operator, a fellow Harris Hawk (OOC: The birds are pack hunters IRL, so having more then one about makes sense) he watches the rapidly approaching track of the hostile planes and their parent. He’s relieved to note that the two pips representing the outfliers already up are well out away from the attackers, meaning they won’t be mobbed early on. The merchants also appear to be following suit, staying within an area where flack-bursts from the “Leander’s” main weapons can cover their more vulnerable forms.

----------------------------------------------------

Further back along the Leander’s rounded bulk, flight commander Louis “Looney” Redgrave is practically bouncing up and down in his
cockpit whilst waiting for the launch-bay doors to open, granting him freedom from the confines of the lumbering airship into the open sky he loves so much. He’s acquired the nickname at school, as badgers aren’t a species known for aeronautical skills and his friends had all thought he was mad. Yet here he was one of the most successful pilots on the Leander, well known for his seat of the pants flying that meant the old nickname was still apt. Finally, the bay doors opened and, after a jarring second of free-fall, the planes propeller bit and the sleek Cerberus class fighter, known for the triple mounted gun-pods on it’s stormed into the sky alongside a sister plane, piloted by Kevin “Monster” Mash, Louis’s best friend and wingman.
Edited by Kerl, May 12 2011, 09:44 AM.
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devilfox1
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For a brick... I flew pretty good!
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Very well typed!
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Kerl
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Thank-you :D Do you have any suggestions, observations or comments before I push it properly into the action sequence?
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devilfox1
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For a brick... I flew pretty good!
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Sugestions? Maybe.
In dogfights, even with large masses (airships), formations only last the first few seconds a squadron enter the fight. Its highly devistateing to come in in a arow head formation guns blazeing, and then break through the enemy line. HOWEVER, once that few seconds of glorious military planning and startigy are over, the fight gets messy. You can almost never tell whos winning, because theire are planes everywhere, no formations unless a squad bugs out inorder to re-enter or retreat.
As with the large airships, from what I know of the navy (actualy I pulled this from battlestar galactica, so dont judge me, lol), thiere is a thing called a "firing solution". All the guns point in a firing solution, sending roud after round at a target. This creates no-fly zones... unless your a really ballsey piolet with twenty bogeys on your tail (starbuck). Its a good way to get scraped realy fast if you fly inside a firing solution...
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Kerl
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Thanks for the tips DevilFox. How's everyone else doing with their entrys?

Here's the next section of mine, where the action finally picks up..

His headset crackles “Ready for stoop and scatter Storm One?”

“Aye chief”, he replies, craning around to see the attackers bearing in on the wounded ‘Wolf before two further dots entered the fray. Glittering spears of light connected the newcomers and the attackers, setting one alight before the rest scattered like a flock of doves, five breaking to Louis’s left and the others to the right. The latter instantly began to regret their mistake as they came into range of the Leander’s main flak cannons, white bursts filling the sky around them. This was all the Louis had time to watch as he was already throwing his plane around after the other group. They were already too late to stop the first attack on the ‘Wolf however the damage inflicted appeared to be minimal and only one of its topside point defence guns was inoperable. Unfortunately, the merchant crew lacked firing discipline, so most of the shots they were spitting back went wide. Louis locked onto one of the scarlet painted marauders and only prayed that the gunners new to stop firing when one of their own planes got in the area..

After one or two close misses, the badger relaxed. They weren’t completely clueless. His relief was short lived as one of the agressors had already turned back and was coming back at him, guns blazing. Following the honour rules he’s learnt from RAF fiction, he refuses to swerve, matching the trails of tracer blazing from his opponents cowling with a set from his own. The two planes are linked briefly by glittering streams, until finally the pirate vessel jinks aside, exposing it’s belly and fuel tanks to the pouring fire and exploding. Passing through the wash, Louis turns about and starts hunting for another target.

----------

Back on Leander’s bridge, Reginald stands on the rail, looking every inch the calm captain. Whilst inside he knew there was nothing he could do until his ship was in position, he wasn’t going to convey his feeling of helplessness to the crew. Instead, his sharp eyed tracked the darting forms of the fighters as they duelled, watching with grim satisfacition as one of the foes disintegrated. He’d already congratulated his own upper-deck crews on their kills amongst the flight that had, in it’s folly, chosen to break his way. Even now the surviving pair were heading for the horizon. Or so he had thought…
The hawk on the vox calls him “Commander! Urgent message from aft lookout! The two we thought were fleeing have turned around! They’re heading for the Lord President!”

“Cuss!” the commander spits. “Get on the vox to the outfliers, it’s their job. We’ve got bigger fish to fry” he rubs his hands in anticipation as the shape of the hostile airship heaves into view. Already, heavy calibre shells are wizzing underneath the Leander, displaying that the opposing crew lack the firing discipline to wait until in range before firing. Through his claws, Reginald feels the thrum of the large mechanisms lifting his ships main guns to firing position, and the note of the engines increasing as they lift above their target. He waits for the spotter to call the range before giving the command.

In the meantime, he watches the two dots of Storm squadron break off and flash past, heading aft to deal with the flanking raiders. Meanwhile, up ahead, the stopped ‘Wolf’s guns light up as it’s gunners try to hit the fighters bearing in on it. One goes up in flames, however explosions light the stricken airships side as missiles slam home, tearing helium tanks and causing the ship to list before the planes streak up and over, closely persued by Angel flights machines, spitting chains of silver. Whilst the commander knows that, from a distance, they’re pretty, those chains are machine gun bullets and promptly another pirate vessel explodes. What happens to the survivor he doesn’t see, as his spotter calls out “In range!”. If a bird could smile, a grin would have lit the commanders features “Fire at will!” He calls out and feels the deck shake as the main guns spit their deadly cargo. He watches the shells streak outward, falling slightly below the target vessel. Exactly 20 seconds later, the deck vibrates again beneath the commanders feet. He nods “Com’s? Send a message to the gunners. That’s a new record.” And watches as the next rounds fly over the target. Classic bracketing. Meanwhile, despite their earlier start, the pirates second volley only fly’s now, and misses again. He shakes his head in disgust. The foe had once been military. To see this level of shoddiness was depressing. An cheer from the bridge crew brings him back to the present as a large explosion light’s the opponents side. “We have them now…” he utters with confidence.
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devilfox1
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Yay shooting has started. Dumb merchants cant hit crap, but still yay!
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Kerl
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Thanks! Of course the merchants can't hit- the flyboys must be needed for something! And I apologise to the merchant marine who served heroically in two world wars. Cliches are, well, useful for plot points.

If the contest isn't over (I think it was supposed to be ending around now? But everyone seems to have been busy with exams/work/moves lately) I have a submission for someone to illustrate should they so choose. See attached :D Edit: Which is now, actually, attached. Duh.

The final section of "A short trip down pirate ally" will be in once i've finished it!

Attached to this post:
Attachments: Isen_vs_the_Milkshake.docx (12.66 KB)
Edited by Kerl, Jun 1 2011, 01:02 PM.
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devilfox1
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the link didnt work TT.TT
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Kerl
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Well, poop!

Here's the text section:
Isen VS the Milkshake

The heroic Paladin, Isen* steps through the doorway which had mysteriously opened in the side wall. He is faced by a peculiar sight in the gloom ahead of him. To one side appears to be a collection of disembodied hands, scuttling around as though they were small crabs. Directly ahead though, is a large cadaver of an undetermined species, glaring at him with blank eye-sockets. Whilst having faced monsters in his past, Isen has never encountered one which has two more rotting hands riding on it’s should like grotesque parots. What’s even more bizarre is that one is holding a flaming brand, which can be of no benefit to an eyeless being, whilst it’s partner is holding a pitcher, filled with a mysterious white liquid.
Being a simple soul, the Paladin doesn’t stop to consider this too much. Calling out his favourite battlecry of “Avandra Favours the Bold” he heroically charges into combat with the fell being, intending to stop it before it can venture out into the world and harm innocent people. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm is almost his undoing. Drawing his sword back for a mighty smite upon his foe, the sword becomes partially embedded in a curtain draping the wall. Whislt he try’s desperately to free it, the corpse shambles forward, making a strange chugging noise, before swatting at him with a huge hand that clangs hard against his armour. Then, to his consternation, one of the hands chucks the burning brand at him, missing by inches. It’s partner, however, does something peculiar. It shakes the pitcher of white liquid and pours it over him. Crying out in surprise as the white fluid fills his eyes, blinding him, some of the substance drops into his mouth. To his ongoing surprise he tastes milk….

Earlier:
The mercenary group assembled by the lord of the realm stands in a surprisingly homely room for what had appeared from the outside to be a foreboding castle. As they do so, a voice calls out to them, warning them that their worst nightmares exist in the next room.
In his usual technique of asking pointless questions, the groups sourcerer calls out “Will their be fire?”

To which the voice returns, booming from around the walls “If that is what you fear most, then yes. Their WILL BE FIRE”

The group, however, look unpeturbed. To gain access this far, they’d had one or two dealings with the mysterious voice however and had come through unscaved from the minions that appeared after it’s dire pronouncements. However, the group rogue’s face lit up in a devious grin.
He calls out, mock fear plain in his voice “Will their be Milkshakes?”

The voice responds “If that is what you fear, then yes, their SHALL BE MILKSHAKE”

The groups cleric then steps up to the game “Will their be Jetski’s”. Whilst the group glance at each other in confusion, assuming this is some kind of clerical device, the voice confirms that

“Their will be Jetski’s, if that is what you fear”

-Warning- Next Part is a little rude-

The Rogue, now, is trying to stop himself from laughing. Deciding to finish the joke, he enquires “Will their be hand-jobs?”

The voice considers “Yes. Their will be hand-jobs, if that is what you fear. Now go. Run from this place.”

The Paladin, in the best of traditions, takes this a challenge and promptly demolishes the nearest door, revealing a gloomy room…..

Moral (?!?) of the story: Be careful what you wish for!

*Yes, this is another version of Isen from another RP. My originality with names stinks, so… yeah. Admittedly, in the Roman Deux Renard he is a Knight so the leap to Paladin isn’t too far…

Whether this Isen is an anthro wolf or a human as he was in the original R.P. is entirely the call of anyone who wishes to illustrate this slightly late entry to the competition.

End Note:
This is actually based on events on a D&D fourth edition game. If you’re familiar with the game, spot the natural ones, critical hits and players goofing around as it player’s want. Also, beware the GM with a bent sense of humour….
Edited by Kerl, Jun 2 2011, 11:52 AM.
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devilfox1
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For a brick... I flew pretty good!
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Meh, I have two characters named Gorefang, three named Harken, and two named Tikaani... one oof wich is me actualy. I'll see what I can do.
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Kerl
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One of these days, I might just finish that story... :p
It'll join the qeue!

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