Perfect Peach Parlay - RPLOG
Participants
Date
Sunday November 3, 2019=Log=
"God..." *clank* "Fucking..." *thud* Magnus would be heard cussing loudly as he dangles over the rim of what was a large six person jeep's bonnet, hammering away at the engine in some haphazard way it seems. Several more parts are flung out from there as a frustrated looking fennec's ears swish about in response to his acute muzzle sniffing for trouble. Two wrenches, a screwdriver and a doughnut follow the pile of thrown out bits and bobs... "Come ooooonnnn..." Magnus gripes as he leans away from the engine block and rubs his forehead. He'd examine a metal piece in his hand, then throw it over one shoulder. "That probably wasn't important."
The fox then moves over towards the driver's seat, opens the door and turns the ignition key. The engine whirrs once, twice, thrice and finally starts up with a resounding roar! Its driver looked both ecstatic and relieved to hear the glorious noise of machinery at work. Grabbing a moist towel to wipe his hands with, Magnus flings it over one shoulder, then moves back up to the front, shuts the bonnet and collapses back atop the hood of their transport. Out here, he was alone with his gear and his vehicle, amidst the scorching sands and desert heat, which... were both neither sorching nor not at this time of year, but what they were is empty, vacant, dull to look at. Still! He'd be easy to find!
A serpentine figure slithers across the sands of the desert, clad in a combat harness with a sleek looking, modified PPD-VA under her armpit, various electronic gizmos attached in many places, and a plenty of pockets and satchels. On her back, there is a clunky sniper rifle and a short blade. As she gets loser, she waves to the Fennec. "Heya Mags! I brought guns! Because, you know, you never know!"
Without further ado, she clumsily tries to stuff her long, serpentine body into the jeep. Mumbling to herself, she says, "Jeez, how am I supposed to fit here... I swear, if someone steps on my tail.."
In the distance, a pointed, furless ear twitches. That's got to be the guy who set this meeting up. A figure only slightly taller than a human approaches, covered in green clothes and brown leather. Short brown hair and sharp green eyes lurk under a travelling hood, with a quiver peeking over his shoulder as if a second head. This look wouldn't be out of place at an old-world Renaissance Faire if not for the bits of biological Promethean armor plating layered strategically outside of the clothes, or the arsenal of more modern weapons that completely shatter the illusion. An old Russian semi-auto pistol and short pump-action shotgun are strapped in easy-to-reach locations, and some weird electronics in the vague shape of a rifle hang from a sling across his chest. He rises to his full height, removing a rectangular electronic abomination from a pouch at his hip and scanning its lens across the landscape. He spots the car, its owner, and a chimeric snake-goo woman who made it there before him. Yep. This has to be the meeting. He approaches from the roadside after a brief walk. "Magnus," he addresses the fennec with a friendly tone and a curt nod. "Ma'am - if looks aren't deceiving," he greets the other mutant, pulling his hood back to reveal some decidedly elven features. Definitely not Faire material. "I don't think we've met. Name's Richard. Nice to meet you!"
Escherr Arrives not first nor last or late as walks through the various parts of the jeep strewn about. To bad he could offer little help in the fixing of vehicles, had to be such an effort to keep those working now of days. Still watching the small fox move about and soon the roar of the engine showing signs of life, least they would not be walking.
The street shaman was out of practice but the need to further the goals and the asking for those with negotiation skills offered him a chance to dip his claws back in the pool. Putting on his best face rather litterally with a friendly fossa smile. Ears flicking as others speak up. "Shown weapons are never a great first impression is what concealed is for." Offering that same charming smile the form offers to the two already standing there "As for your tail I am sure a few would not mind to be coiled in it and prefer it to seatbelts." Least the group was a diversed group so far, having to wait for others the cat lept up top to sit some and wait and soak in some of the sun
Why... Is that a satyr coming this way? Quite a diverse group we're getting here. Bleu strides across the sands on his cloven hooves, wearing a blue windbreaker over his upper body to keep warm, but other naked to the elements. He's decidedly unarmed, as well, but he does carry a satchel and his comm. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, he calls out, "Mags, Darling! Bet you didn't expect your new mate to come along!" As he nears the jeep, the satyr nods his horned head to the others, none of whom he immediately recognizes. "Well, I brought wine! These will be most enjoyable negotiations!"
Fenris trots across the desert to the appointed meeting spot, his gear jangling as he jogs along. The wide-brimmed, white stetson perched on his head shields his eyes from the sun, but he wears little else aside from an open, plaid shirt and a heavy gun belt that holds his gear.
The burly tanuki bounces to a stop next to the jeep. "One tanuki, ready for action!? he says jovially, considering the size of the vehicle and his own bulk. He puts out a hand at the height of the jeep, then moves his hand up to the top of his head, then looks around at the other people around him. He ponders for a moment, then produces a pair of earings from his belt and puts them carefully in his ears.
"Wubwubwubwub!? he burbles as he visibly shrinks, ?Tanuki: Travel-Size! Dibs on Shotgun!? He scrambles around to clamber into the front passenger seat. "Hey, Magnus!? he grins, ?And hello to the rest of you!? He grins even bigger when the satyr arrives and offers wine. "That is what I like to hear!?
Running a little late- Though not running, certainly- Nena smoothly saunters in, hands in her coat pockets. The bat woman is, as usual, visibly unarmed and unarmoured, and she snuffs out a cigarette as a courtesy as she draws closer. "Sorry I'm late. I had to get the laundry in and folded before I could go running off for adventure. Good to see I didn't miss the ride, though." Finding space for her shouldn't be too big of a problem. By old world standards, she was what could be considered... Compact, though perfectly within the realm of average.
