[Jack_Spade]

[Friday December 13th, 2075; Mayday Field, Hells Kitchen, Puyallup]
[spoiler]
Ini: 12+2d6 17

Draw Flash Bang
Throw: Throw Grenade Flash Bang: 11d6t5 4 [11d6t5=4, 5, 6, 3, 4, 3, 5, 6, 3, 3, 1]

[/spoiler]

Thorn saw that his knives and axes wouldn't achieve anything with that hard shell. Instead he grabbed one of the Flash Bang grenades.

"Fire in the hole!"

And with a pretty precise throw he landed the grenade just in front of the creatures snout.
"Piss off and get your spice somewhere else!"

[SgtBoomCloud]

Pinion actually thought the return trip was going to go well.  His recent balking at Al's and Thorn's partaking of hot soycaf without himself and Gunther was repaid from the presentation of the thermos and a replanning of their return route.  Renewed vigor in his step and warmth in his belly, the human 'mancer took hold of the mule drone's "reins", following suit and letting Al lead the way.

And then the worm hit.

Seeing the others around him returning fire at this monstrosity, Pinion gave a nod and followed suit, his Colt Cobra SMG out, loaded, and firing off a rapporting burst of fire at the rockwyrm, the man backing away in the event of trouble.  "Well...maybe it sees us as too much of a hassle now?" was his only reply as he saw the bang of the grenade, the fireball, and the rife bullet that accompanied his.

[ScytheKnight]

{Escort}

Ratchet feels a bit cut adrift from everything on board the sub, unsure what to do she makes her way to the medical area hoping that even if she's unable to help in some way, she might at least learn something.

[Aria]

@Tech Fetch
[Friday December 13th, 2075; Mayday Field, Hells Kitchen, Puyallup]

Wreathed in fire and smoke the wyrm gobs a gout of sticky saliva towards Gunther and the mule before collapsing back onto the ground where it continues to writhe backwards and forwards, its bulk threatening to crush the drone into the ash and rock beneath…and then the more perceptive of you see that the casing of the cell has begun to smoke where it was contacted by the goo…

@Escort
[Friday December 14th, 2075; The Sound, somewhere off the Seattle shoreline]

It is quite strange feeling the vibrations through the deck plating but hearing nothing around you…the loss of sound is really beginning to grate on your nerves now as you come to realise how vital it is to your sense of surroundings.  The inhabitants seem to be largely unaffected by it, at least as far as you can tell, and they continue clearly animated conversations through the various AR interfaces they are using…

When Ratchet sticks her head into medical she begins to get an inkling of what these Seekers are… an array of six Valkyrie modules around some kind of computer hub.  The occupants clearly in deep VR and being monitored by attendant techs and medical drones

***

It takes about an hour and then sound suddenly comes flooding back in a painful rush…

[Jack_Spade]

"Shit, get the drone away from that hole. We need to wash off the acid - quickly or you'll get a second impression of my face."
Thorn ran towards the platform to add his considerable body mass as a counter weight. At the same time he fumbled for his canteen to dilute the acid.

[pistolgrip]

ESCORT
It didn't take long for Bent to feel useless. It didn't take much longer for vertigo to set in. The movement of the sub, the dull, silent hum in his chest, all blanketed, muffled by a thick, palpable silence that was starting to feel oppressive. For a bit, he felt like he couldn't breathe. Like maybe the silence came from a pure vacuum that he'd willingly stepped into and aboard. He stumbled off in search of Ratchet.

When the sound came back, Bent clapped his hands over his ears and shouted "Drek!" He cracked a smile in spite of himself, realizing he could swear again. But he was still stuck in a tin can and felt a little like throwing up, so he comforted himself by reviving his sour expression and practicing a litany of curses as he strolled the hall looking for that witch doctor with the metal arm. "Ratchet... load some narc into that ruger and shoot me. In the head." he moaned. "I hate this place. I should be in bed."

[adamu]

[Tech Fetch]

Al wasn't sure if the thing was down for the count, but it was clear that if the damned fuel cell went up they were all done for.

Thorn was trying to keep the mule out of the widening hole and grab his canteen at the same time - fighting the instinct to run for safe distance, Al rushed over and took the canteen from the struggling ork and started splashing water onto where part of the acid spray meant for Gunther had found its way onto the cell. If he could dilute it or rinse it away quickly enough, it might not penetrate the casing.

The trick was keeping his footing as the worm's thrashing agony threatened to rip the very rock out from under his Docs.

[saithor]

[Tech Fetch]

Gunther cursed as he dodged the blast of acid by the barest of margins, and seeing the on-fire MULE started looking around for water to help Al with.

[ChromeZephyr]

[Friday December 14th, 2075; The Sound, somewhere off the Seattle shoreline]

Scrapheap spent the first few minutes in the sub trying to acclimate to the smothering silence and failed miserably.  The frustration of constantly barking his shins and whacking his forehead against the confines of the sub added on top of it pushed his temper to near it's breaking point.  He finally found a corner free of anything that looked important and wedged himself in, glaring balefully at the ship denizens going about their duties; the fact that they largely ignored him only served to aggravate him more, like a sharp pebble stuck under your heel.  Minutes dragged into an hour, and his thoughts drifted longingly to the modded Metalink sitting in his lockers.  There were a couple of new chips that Enrique had found him that he'd not experienced yet just waiting there.  The itch in the back of his brain started again, and he quashed it savagely.  Fuckin' Dumptruck, stickin' me wif dese damn pencil-dicks, coulda been home doin' somefin' useful 'nstead of sittin' in some fuckin' can under da damn Sound.  Fuck dis place.  Fuck dis job.

The sudden crash of sound made him yelp involuntarily.  Motherfucker.  Now what's goin' on?  He stood up, flexing muscles that protested at being held in place for too long and watching any of the ship's inhabitants for signs that anything was amiss. 

[Aria]

@Tech Fetch
[Friday December 13th, 2075; Hells Kitchen, Puyallup]

As you desperately try to dilute the acid eating into your rather explosive fuel cell the wyrm finally expires with the last of the flames from the fireball flickering over its chitinous hide.  Slamming down with an audible crash into the ash flow the fragging thing then begins to glow from within and suddenly reignites with an overpowering chemical stink…the segmented bands are wreathed in little flames that push out from within like a strange series of gas burners…whatever, it can’t be good right?

@Escort
[Friday December 14th, 2075; The Sound, somewhere off the Seattle shoreline]

The crew seem unperturbed by the sudden onrush of sound and life returns to a chaotic and very noisy norm as the sound of multiple voices bounce off the insides of the tin can you are ensconced in.  You settle in for a dull trip, striking up idle conversation with curious children that throng around you now that they can hear what you are saying.  As far as you can tell it’s the people that are the cargo in this giant boat…the holds have been converted into living quarters and rec spaces…which is why, at first, you are curious about the audible and AR message that flashes out in the early hours, three or so since you boarded

<<Attention. Vessel on intercept course, get to your quarters and bolt the doors people…>>

Followed by a slightly more panicked, although still professional

<<Subs in the water, sound general quarters>>

Frag!

A rather harassed looking Helen seeks you out… “Look, I’m sorry about this, we’ve been dogged by pirates in the past, and sometimes the authorities…don’t know which this is but either way, not good news.  We can stow you with the kids if you want, or you can help repel borders?  Sounds melodramatic I know but it might come to that, it has in the past!  What do you say?” 

[Jack_Spade]

"Oh come on, now you are gonna explode on us?" Thorn cried exasperated.
"Get this damn drone in reverse, while I climb up. I've got another reserve to dilute the acid."

Agile and fast he climbed up on the cell, undid his fly and began pissing down on the steaming spots.
"That was a damn good soy caf - glad I drunk so much."

[adamu]

 "Now that ain't natural," Al rasped, though it was hard to tell whether he was referring to the worm's imminent combustion or Thorn's ongoing elimination. His canteen empty, he took a step back to avoid the spatter, and added, "Anyone know what minimum safe distance is on a damned exploding monster maggot?"

Unwilling to run while Thorn was still dealing with the acid from atop the mule, he moved away as fast as the drone did while scooping up more water from a rain puddle to douse the cell further. He thought of keeping the drone between himself and the worm as some sort of makeshift cover, but realized it was pointless - if the drone got hit, the cell would get fried, and then they'd all be toast.

[saithor]

Gunther started running as fast as he could directly away from he mule, trying to put as much distance and terrain between the about to combust worm ad himself as possible. These weren't his people, he didn't owe them anything, and he really didn't want to die on a Friday.

[Csjarrat]

Escort
With the alaram blaring for general quarters, cog unslung his shotgun and checked chamber, testing the action was smooth ahead of any potential need.
Point me to where they're likely to come from and open a comm channel. I'll do my best to hold em back

[Shamie]

FoxCap wasn't in his best day, nor that he has many of those. He was dressed in a light grey coat over 2 shirts as he usually did. Though this time he wasn't wearing his usual cap and handkerchief as the first time he bump his head on the sub taught him the importance of a clear field of vision. His brown hair was slick to the back so as to not disturb him

He walked toward Helen, the woman who seem on charge here or at least he though she might. Fox had being emptying his guts the whole trip but now there seems to be something to keep his mind occupied.

In a raspy voice, his throat still sore from the vomit, he said

"Helen wasn't it? You said we got incoming fragger, how many? What can i do?" he asked not sure whether he could hack something underwater, this was definitely not his usual turf.