PHD #178: EVENT - From Sagittaron, With Love
From Sagittaron, With Love
Summary: The base camp is given a warm reminder of their unwelcomeness.
Date: 23 Aug 2041 AE
Related Logs: All Sagittaron logs.
Cidra Coll Constin Cora Samuel Sofia NPC Serpens 
The Farmstead — Sagittaron
This is a sad and squalid patch of loamy earth, the blackness of which is broken up every few meters by rotting bits of green. Located on some of the highest ground near the Jharkand Delta, the farm went to seed a while before Warday — making it good only for growing weeds. A barn and farmhouse are the plot's most notable features, perched as they are at the very summit of the hill. Those rickety structures aside, only two other hints of civilization remain. A poor excuse for a road winds its way down the slopes, its grey-white gravel partially obscured by encroaching dirt, while a small broken-down water pump creaks idly in the breeze, its handle worn by decades of use.

The fields themselves have the undisturbed look of once-flooded ground — before the intrusion of men. The remains of broken tractors, plows, and various other farm implements have been carried by rising waters to their final resting place by the base of the farmhouse. Just enough barbed wire fences have survived to mark the edges of the twenty-acre property.
Post-Holocaust Day: #178

OOC: We join a scene already in progress. This scene is located HERE.

"With respect, sir," Constin states crisply to Cora, "That's you drawing conclusions. Just like somebody might draw the conclusion you was threatening the Crewman with what you'd said before. Which of course you were clearly not doing," he tacks on in the same wooden tone.

Coll has her back (and hackles) towards the barn door so has no idea that Cidra is approaching. "You have no frakking idea what I think. What I've done. What I've experienced and dealt with since I came aboard. Putting words in my mouth would be about as useful to you as trying to operate an ECO station." There is nothing but ice in her voice for Cora. "Yeah, I'll get right on that report, too. I'm sure it'll get read by the same amount of people that care: nobody. It'll be another seven weeks spent on something nobody gives a flying shit about. Get the same amount of thanks. Very inspired." She then looks to Constin and gives him a little tick of a smile. Her eyes say it all: 'Thank you'.

Cidra is wearing her sidearm, in addition to her nice pink sunburn, though she lacks the ease of moving with it that many have. Movements suggest she's very aware of its weight on her hip. She makes a soft "Ah" sound as she comes up on the group. To give some warning of her presence. "How does go the day?" she asks. Mildly. It's unclear how much of what was said she actually heard. She gives no sign of particularly minding about any of it.

"Actually, Sergeant, that's me listening to the words she's saying in the order and combination in which she's saying them," Cora replies, a faintly dry note slipping into her otherwise still-mild tone, "And now giving her the benefit of the doubt since she's saying she actually intended something distinctly different. And no, crewman," she replies to Coll, "I have no idea what you think, and I don't pretend that I do. If what you have said is different from what you are thinking, that's your fault, not mine, and perhaps you should take more care to speak precisely. But I am absolutely serious about that report. I don't know what else you've worked on in the past that you're angry about, but I think this would be useful, and I would like to read it. Of course if you'd rather not bother, I can find other techs to take care of it."

No sunburn for Sofia! Though, she is turning a bit pink. She is humming softly and wandering along. She blinks, seeing Cidra. Then a smile and she moves closer. The second Crewman hesitates though, hearing the tone of what's going on. She furrows her eyebrows, looking a bit like she just wandered in and no one's wearing pants. Such is the hazard of a very expressive face. "Um. Hello there. Sirs."

Constin keeps his narrow eye on Cora as the Lieutenant answers him. "You have a gift for talking down at folks, sir," the marine states bluntly. Cidra's approach draws the marine's attention and once again the NCO shifts his weight off of the barn against which he leans to stand with weight divided between both boots. "Sir." Sofia's arrival gets a look, but no immediate greeting.

Coll turns sharply to see Cidra and her face takes a lightly sour note. "Fine, Major," she says under her breath before looking back at Cora. "Yeah. Of course. Its my fault. Couldn't possibly be yours, right?" she deadpans. "And you know damned well you were making assumptions about what I was thinking. As for your report? No. Find somebody else." Coll slits her eyes at Cora before dropping her arms from across her chest and turns to lean back against the barn. Apparently she isn't feeling much like protocol today.

Cidra makes another of those "Ah" sounds, eyes flitting between Cora and Coll. Then to Constin, brows arched a little. In a 'What the devil have I stumbled into?' sort of way. She does not immediately ask. "I did send a message up to Colonel Pewter and Major Tillman this morn regarding the survivor we did find. The one who claims to be from the Victory." It's still 'one who claims,' despite Evandreus' ID of the man the previous night. In professional matters, she's one for skepticism. "He should be shuttled to Cerberus fairly soon for proper processing and medical check, but I see no pressing reason to rush on that. You two can speak him at your leisure, and likely glean more better than most aboard ship." A slight shake of her head at Coll's behavior, but it is not apparently seen as something she immediately needs to deal with. Sofia earns the faintest of smiles. "Crewman Wolfe. How does go the day?"

An owlish blink. Sofia has a similar expression to Cidra's. She starts to smile, but it fades fast. Oh dear. She rubs the back of her head. A look between Cora, Coll and Constin with a faint hint of worry. She blinks at Cidra, "You guys found someone friendly? Awesome." She seems pleased they didn't find more disgruntled Saggies. Or gruntled Saggies with banjos. Neither of which is good news. "That's good." She smiles a little. Though she looks up to Cidra, keeping the faint smile. "Well enough, sir. I found my nuts. Er, the nuts I was looking for." That phrase seems to keep tripping Sofia up and her face goes red. "There was a hole in my tool belt. Thingy." She explains. "How about you sir?"

How goes the day? The day is ending, the sun darkening to a blazing red as it sinks to the horizon, pulling the twilight sky down with it like a shroud. The base camp's activities are slowly winding down, as well — with the night-time orders being 'all lights out', it's difficult for much to happen outside the farmhouse once evening has arrived. The Marine patrols, no doubt, have a different opinion on how 'calm' the evenings are.

Preparing himself for another patrol, Samuel stretches a bit now, moving over towards that group he sees present. Slow movement so far, it would seem, as he glances around.

Cora just smiles at Constin, replying, "Thank you, sergeant," before turning back to Coll. "I listened to what you were saying, and I assumed that you meant it as you said it. And when you took it back, I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and believed that you had mispoken. Beyond that there's very little I can do." She turns back towards Cidra then, greeting her, "Sir." She nods about Ulixes, "Yes, I hope to speak with him soon. That sounds good, sir, thank you for the update."

<OOC> Serpens says, "Can I get an Alertness-10 roll from anyone who's feeling particularly observant at the moment, please?"
<OOC> Serpens says, "You could roll at -20 if you want a chance, regardless."

<FS3> Cidra rolls Alertness-10: Success.
<FS3> Constin rolls Alertness-10: Success.
<FS3> Sofia rolls Alertness-10: Failure.
<FS3> Cora rolls Alertness-20: Success.
<FS3> Samuel rolls Alertness-10: Success.

You paged Constin, Cidra, Cora, and Samuel with 'In the midst of conversation and the distant sound of patrolling marines, you hear the sound of breaking glass in the direction of the farmhouse. Someone busting out one of the remaining windowpanes, maybe.'
You paged Constin, Cidra, Cora, and Samuel with 'A moment later — two, three seconds? — my next emit happens.'

Constin isn't smiling back at Cora's reply. In fact, the marine's expression would be aptly described as a scowl in the instant before he slips back into a wooden stoneface upont turning to Cidra. "Yes, sir. I'll make time to have words with the Leiutenant before he's shipped offworld. Thank you, sir." Blue eyes tick more narrow as his head turns toward the farmhouse. The scowl re-emerges.

Drifting in on the twilight breeze comes the distant report of a single gunshot.


From within the farmhouse, the sudden sound of voices raised in confusion.

"Now I remember why I've grown a distaste for some people recently. Thank you for being so smug. Would you like me to go clean a toilet for you, sir? Or can I fetch you some coffee, almighty sir?" Go Go Gadget Cat Clawz! Coll looks like she'd love nothing more than to get fisticuffs at the moment. But as Cidra and Cora exchange words, Coll looks like she's waiting for something else. Something else that doesn't arrive. She shakes her head and looks to Constin. "You see this? Remember what I said earlier? Proof in action." Lauren stands off the wall-lean of the barn, looking like she's about ready to leave. The Crewman even gets a step off before she hears the gunshot. She stops, looking to Constin for direction.

Cidra nods to Sofia. "A man who appears to be a Colonial officer was found in the bush last night," she replies to Sofia. "He had been alone in the wilderness for quite some time, by the look of him." But she doesn't seem to think he's a terrorist. So…there's that. She scowls some at Cora as well. "That shall do, Lieutenant." It is mild but rather clipped. But she says no more. Something makes her head turn sharp toward the farmhouse. Hands flinch, a second later than they should, really, to her sidearm arm. "Get low. Find cover," she orders shortly, looking to Constin and preparing to follow his advice as well. The major knows her place, and it is usually not on the ground.

You paged Constin with 'From the farmhouse spotting team: "Shot fired, Sergeant! First floor, north wall! No- GET DOWN, EVERYONE! No casualties."'

Sofia peers owlishly at Cora. She doesn't seem sure what to think. They have a new person though! She seems pleased for it. She looks between to Coll too. "Really? Poor guy. It must be hard to live al— huh?" She blinks. People are moving and reaching for sidearms and what? Coll does have nice pants and she was confused thinking about what's going on between Cora and Coll and her thoughts are muddled stew of words and meanings. She gives up and follows the others' example carefully. Actually she just kind of tenses and peers around.

Still making his way over in the direction of the others, Samuel suddenly stops, and turns in the direction of the farmhouse again. Starting to head in that direction right before he hears the gunshot. When that is heard, he glances around for a few moments, before continuing in that direction, while looking for the nearest available cover in the process. Weapon kept ready now.

Constin's hand flashes to the 'speak' function on his wireless, into which the sergeant prompts sharply, "Spotters verify perimeter. Teams within the farmhouse, be advised: glass broken in advance of gunshot, sweep interior now. All patrols and lookouts, sound off." A short look around those present, as the sergeant draws and double checks the status of his sidearm.

Cora just looks at Coll for a moment and then says nothing, turning back towards Cidra instead. Her brows tic together for a moment, but she just nods at the major and says nothing else until that glass breaks, already turning towards the farmhous and beginning to ask, "Did anyo—" when the gunshot is heard. She drops to the ground with the others, drawing her sidearm out of its holster and awaiting direction from the marines.

Coll doesn't seem so inclined to get low just yet. She looks from Constin, to the farmhouse, and back. "Did anyone bring Karl?" she asks quickly. Her eyes then dart back around the treelines as Marines begin moving.

Cidra gets her pistol out and drops low. And remembers to take the safety off. She does not look precisely easy handling it, but come out it does. "Hold on. In cover," she says, soft but level. She does not pester Constin for an update while he's working the wireless, but she watches him waiting for one.

"Karl?" Sofia asks quietly. She doesn't know who a Karl is. Though, the breaking glass and everyone starting to move low provokes a deep frown. She seems uneasy and somewhat worried. She takes a deep breath and just decides to attempt to stay low and blend in.

"Heavy munitions stored under guard in the barn," Constin answers Coll curtly at her query. Otherwise, he awaits acknowledgement of his last orders, before passing on a proper situation report to the superior officers present.

Looking around rather carefully from his position, Samuel frowns a little bit, "Knew this neighborhood was a rough one…" he mutters to himself. Glancing back in Constin's direction for the moment.

You paged Constin with 'You receive a chorus of affirmations from the perimeter teams, sounding off one after the next. From the farmhouse team: "Sweeping interior, Sergeant. We- one second, we're reading encrypted radio traffic."'

Constin (Elf) pages: Direction of the gunshot?
You paged Constin with 'From the north. One of the first floor windowpanes was shot out.'

Lauren nods to Constin but doesn't otherwise move for the moment. "Left my sidearm with my junk inside. Want me to grab anything?" She sounds calm with just a hint of tension. She gives a little smirk to Sofia's question, Constin having answered it well enough.

"Sergeant, I have limited experience in ground engagement, so I shall follow your lead in this matter," Cidra says low to Constin. Just to make what's obvious properly official. He presumably knows his business here. She continues to wait for him to get his info and give that sitrep.

Sofia tilts her head, "I can help if you need anything carried," And Sofia catches on. Oh! She smiles a little, "Miss Coll and her fireworks." She seems amused and somewhat pleased. She goes quiet though, and will follow along where she is pointed.

"All patrols accounted for.. Shot fired from the north, no casualties. Long distance, presumed sniper," Constin reports curtly aloud to the others present. Into the wireless, he notes, "Farmhouse spotters, focus search along the northern perimeter. All members of fireteam Able Three-Two prepare for intensive search of the grounds." Voicing aloud, he notes to those present- officers and enlisted alike, "Until the spotters locate something, we stay put. Searching blind for a sniper on foot is a quick way to catch a bullet, sir." The pistol is handed over to Lauren, as the sergeant re-slings his assault rifle across the chest.

From within the farmhouse, the shouts get more and more agitated. "Sniper? SNIPER?! Where-" "Down, everyone STAY DOWN!" "Room clear! Advancing, GO! Clear!" "Frak THIS, I'm getting outta here!"

And then, slowly crawling into the earshot of all those outdoors, the gentle whistle of something falling from the sky.

Cora waits, and listens to those reports going back and forth across Constin's wireless, saying nothing, pretty thoroughly relieved of responsibility for this situation. At that whistle, she looks up, searching the sky and telling the others, "I think we've got something incoming."

Samuel frowns a little as his eyes starts scanning the north. "Now where are you, whatever you…" Stopping at the whistle, he looks up to the sky. "I have a bad feeling about this…" he mutters to himself.

<OOC> Serpens says, "I'd like an Alertness roll from everyone outdoors, please."

<FS3> Cidra rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Cora rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Samuel rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Coll rolls Alertness: Bad Failure.
<FS3> Constin rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Sofia rolls Alertness: Success.

You paged Cora with 'It's hard to see against the sunset — the thinnest line of smoke arcing down. Whatever it is is going to hit the barn.'

You paged Sofia and Cidra with 'Bombs fall, everyone dies? It sounds like only one. You can't see where it's likely to land. You could stand and gawk until it's clear, but you probably don't want to.'
You paged Constin and Samuel with 'That's a mortar bomb coming in. You can't tell where it's going to land. You could stand and figure it out if you really wanted to. Maybe not so wise to stand and gawk, however.'

"Incoming!" Constin barks, grabbing the shoulder of the last other person standing upright apart from himself- which would be Coll, and shoving hard to urge the deckie down for some modicum of cover, before following suit himself.

Cora eyes the sky for a moment, shading her eyes against the sunset and finally pointing, "There. It's headed for the barn. Everybody get away!" She is on her feet in a hurry, doing the opposite of Constin and Coll and sprinting towards some other kind of cover. Or just away.

Sofia will yank Coll into cover if Constin doesn't grab— well, beaten! She decides to take cover too. Sofias are not bomb proof and she's seen what they are quite capable of. "Who the frak would-" Saggies flapping their arms really, really hard? A bored terrorist and a kite? She is in awe of Cora's sighting skills. She's just going to move away and reach for the nearest straggler's hand if anyone is slower than the somewhat ponderous Sofia.

Cidra nods short to Constin. Staying put and staying low. Until, of course, the 'INCOMING!' She was low before but she can't linger near the barn. "Go! Go!" she calls, sticking close to Sofia as she tries to follow Cora in running /away/ from the barn. And into more cover, ideally.

You paged Constin with 'The fireteam along the /southern/ perimeter announces, "SMOKE!" and something about a high ballistic trajectory even as the team within the farmhouse overlaps with, "We've lost the radio transmission, Sergeant!" The other perimeter patrols start confiming what everyone already knew — something unfriendly heading for the farmyard.'

Samuel just throws himself down on the ground, in a direction away from the barn. Trying not to land pointing the rifle where it shouldn't be pointed.

Coll takes the sidearm and does a quick chamber check. The whistling slowly reaches her ears, but long after everyone else. Nerve damage to auditory system kinda prevents being super alert. But when Constin shoves, he shoves. She collapses to her knees. People are running away. Constin's already down.. Lauren dives the rest of the way down and over Constin, wrapping herself over top the hulking man as best she can. Eyes wrench shut and she waits for the inevitable.

Constin barks into the wireless, "Enemy mortar position to the south- repeat: south! All personnel in the barn, evac! All personnel open fire on contact!" Then Coll is trying to play human shield, which meets with resistance. "Damnation-"

The Libran Convention banned white phosphorus munitions decades ago. Any long-time groundpounder or follower of military history knows the details, has seen the horrific pictures of charred villages and people horribly pockmarked with seared holes as if some devil with his pitchfork came a-stabbing.

Sagittaron's friendliest, however, seem to have missed the memo, and invited Willie Pete for evening tea.

The WP mortar explodes across the tarred thatch roof of the barn, and the farmyard is lit a searingly brilliant white — or bloody pink, for those with their eyes squeezed shut. White-hot fragments spray in all directions, like a birthday sparkler gone terribly, /horribly/ wrong, trailing stinging smoke after them.

<OOC> Serpens says, "I'd like an Athletic-10 roll from those who were running AWAY from the barn, as you're more likely to catch sparks as you flee. You may wish to spend luck, for it will sting and burn."

<FS3> Cora rolls Athletic-10: Good Success.
<FS3> Cidra rolls Athletic-10: Success.
<FS3> Sofia rolls Athletic-10: Success.

<OOC> Serpens says, "I'd like an Athletic (unmodified) roll from those near the barn, as you're partially under cover."

<FS3> Coll rolls Athletic: Success.
<FS3> Samuel rolls Athletic: Success.
<FS3> Constin rolls Athletic-10: Success.

<OOC> Serpens says, "Constin, would you like to make the rolls for the fireteam inside the barn?"
<OOC> Constin says, "Please do."

<FS3> Serpens rolls 5: Success.
<FS3> Serpens rolls 5-10: Failure.
<FS3> Serpens rolls 6: Success.
<FS3> Serpens rolls 6-10: Success.

Cora sprints away from the barn as the mortar hits, getting hit with only a couple of those sparks, quickly slapped at on the backs of her shoulders. She turns as there's not corresponding explosion from the barn just the wooosh of the roof igniting, and, tanktop tugged up to cover her nose and mouth, she runs back, shouting, "We need to get the ships out of the barn!"

After the round goes off, Coll squirms on top of Constin and yells as the sparks try and melt into her skin. She rolls off and rips off her tank tops as teh back begins smoking. Arms flail, dusting sparks off her arms as she coughs. The woman then looks up into the colored smoke and lifts off Constin. "Oh holy shit," she breaths hoarsely, climbing to her knees. She cups her hands to her mouth and shouts after the CAG: "MA-JOR! SCRAMBLE?!" The Deckie clenches her jaw and looks into the barn as best she can to make out the shape of an armed Raptor right inside. Coll isn't waiting, though. Like Cora, she lifts the burned shirts to her face and rises off her knees, running into the barn. She disappears into the smoke, her pale skin last seen climbing into a Raptor.

Constin barks sharply into the wireless, as he climbs back to his feet and starts hurriedly toward the barn door, "We have a sniper north and a mortar team to the south. Roving fireteams converge on the southern perimeter!" That order given, the marine rushes inside the barn alongside Coll.

Cidra gets sprayed with sparks, which make her stumble as she's fleeing. She doesn't catch fire or burn anything vital. Though she does let out a sharp exclamation of pain. Bare arms suddenly do not seem as good an idea as they did an hour or so ago. That stings. Not that she hesitates in turning on her heel to run back to the barn. She's not about to leave those ships to burn. "Vipers first! Less weight, they shall move faster."

Letting out a few choice words that would be considered not-nice words even in a little rural town on Picon, Samuel blinks a few times at the nice flash of white. And then the shower of the not so comfortable sparks. He gets to his feet after a few moments, though, before moving to help the others get the ships out of the barn. Muttering quite a lot to himself at the moment, as he stumbles along, still not quite recovered his vision.

Frak frak frak. Sofia is torn for a moment. She's sprayed by sparks, hissing and squeaking in pain periodically. She will turn on her heels too, "Okay- er, I can't drive one-" Frak. Well, Sofia will turn and move to help anyway, making sure no /people/ are left hurt in there or nothing on the ground gets in the way, a sort of back up. Her world is turning quickly, realizing just why people dislike these phosphorous things. Everything about it is cruel.

Cora runs after Cidra into the barn, arm up to hold her shirt over the lower half of her face. "Can we fly the Raptors out?" she shouts over to the CAG in question, even as she heads to the Vipers as directed, eyeing the roof about them and getting ready to help push.

Coll can be heard coughing inside the barn. One of the Raptors begins engine start-up, the sound whining slowly as the turbofans on the rear spool up. Then the sound of boots again as she hops out. Dodging past people inside, the Crewman is suddenly back at Anadyomene and trying to scramble aircraft under fire. She barks at a passing Specialist to start another Viper while she scrambles up the ladder of another to flick a few switches. "Major! Raptor Two spooling! One is still cold!" she yells. Raptor two is the one armed with miniguns and missiles.

"Oh shit, ohshit OH SHIII-" comes a shout from within the barn, upgrading to a shriek. Beneath the scream of pain can be heard the calls of, "Go, GO! Get OUT!"

As those outside the barn press inward, they're greeted by the Marine fireteam in hasty evacuation of their observation post in what was once a hayloft. Two of them are carrying a third, who staggers between them, the armor upon his back and shoulders still smoking.

There is a faint whiff of barbecue.

The smoke isn't too thick within the barn, yet — though by the looks of the crackling white and ember-red splotches in the thatched roof overhead, it won't be that way for long.

"Move, move!" Constin can be heard barking, as the sergeant, lifts one of the bulky heavy weapons boxes- always bulkier than they were heavy, and dragging it toward Raptor Two and Hurling it inside with the strength of adrenaline and desperation. "Forward bird good to move, get a pilot in the pit, NOW!" he roars before hurrying back to repeat the hurried evac.

Samuel stumbles once more in his quest to join the others at getting things out of the barn, and sinks down on his knees. Taking a few moments to clear his head further, he gets up again, moving far more steadily to help get things safely away now.

"I can fly a Raptor out," Cidra replies, heading toward Raptor Two to jump in the pilot's seat. "The Vipers can be pushed, those who are able." The other Raptor, they shall see. Raptor One is a more daunting thing to try and physically move as the Vipers. She's not getting her hopes up. She concentrates on getting ready to hover out in the big bird that's is nominally ready.

Sofia is going to help move grounds goods then, Sofia is nigh useless in a bird unless someone wants the ECM worked. She'll follow Constin or help push a Viper obediently then, unless shooed off.

The Marines get sympathetic looks from Sofia, but for her part, it's time to move. Not that traumatized just yet.

Cora looks at the marines as they pass, and scans the barn quickly for anyone else before taking up a position along the viper's wing along with the others to push it towards the exit as Cidra drives the Raptor out.

Coll just jumps from the cockpit of the Viper as its being shoved back out. She levels a finger at a passing Petty Officer Third. "Raptor One! Scramble!" Something authoritative about a barking, shirtless woman that looks all full of fire. Meanwhile Raptor Two's engines continue spooling to throttle idle positions - the whine as loud as it might be one a Deck. The Deckie scrambles up onto the Ramp of Raptor Two to help pull in another crate, backing her ass in with it. "Birds packed, sir," Coll gruffs as she spins to the ECO panel. "Comms: Go! Tac: Go! Canopy: Go! Engine Spool: Twin Greens! You're good to go, sir!" Coll turns back around to try and stumble around the crates.

And go she does. That Raptor does not burst out, exactly. It's a controlled low, hover-forth exit from an enclosed space. But it goes. Cidra flies it out of the barn without much apparent difficulty, clearing a path for the smaller planes to be rolled. She'll set it down not far from the barn. Still might need that thing to evac in.

Constin points Sofia at one of the boxed grizzlies, ordering curtly, "Get it on Raptor two!" before acknowledging Coll's status report with a nod, rushing around to get behind the first Viper in line and bracing to muscle the bird forward once Cidra gets the first Raptor out of the barn. "Coll!" he roars above the building noise of burning barns. "Pilot the second Raptor out when the road's clear!"

"Yes, Sarge!" Sofia is going to take the grizzly to Raptor Two. She grunts as she lifts. At least even she's in decent military shape. Hup hup. There's no time to really think although she winces at the noise of it all. She faithfully carries and loads the big weapon up and in.

<OOC> Can I get an Athletics-10 roll from those of you within the barn / helping with the Viper, please?

<FS3> Cora rolls Athletic-10: Success.
<FS3> Constin rolls Athletic-10: Success.
<FS3> Coll rolls Athletic-10: Success.
<FS3> Sofia rolls Athletic-10: Success.

Within the barn, the smoke gets thicker and thicker, the illumination redder and redder. The smoke is quite literally acrid, white phosphorus transmogrifying through the wonders of science to droplets of airborne phosphoric acid.

The roof is rapidly burning through, and large burning chunks, covered in molten tar, start falling toward the ground, thick black smoke joining the white.

<OOC> Serpens says, "With no Good Successes amongst the lot, you're all having general problems seeing, breathing is getting troublesome. You're dodging splattering tar and chunks of burning roof."

Coll takes a flying leap from Raptor Two's ramp as Cid lifts it off and heads out. "You hopin' for miracles, Sarge?!" she yells over the din of noise inside. The woman scrambles into the Raptor's cockpit as the engines begin spooling, tar barely missing her arm as it splashes onto the ground. "Ohhhhhhshit," she breathes as she straps in and begins throwing rocker switches. Her head swims through the smoke as she starts reciting old acronyms from flight school. Finally, the panelling lights up and she surfs through MFDs while her fingers dance on the buttons. "Okay," she whispers. "OKAY! One's Green!" Lauren screams out over the ejection seat and her shoulder. Her free hand stuffs an earbud into her fully functional ear while her bad hand starts manipulating the throttles. Raptor One wobbles into the air like a puppy unsure of its footing. The nose dips as the hatch closes. The right tailfin clips the top of the doorway and knocks a chunk of the material away while breaking the signal light, be the bird slowly moves over towards Cidra.

[Into the Wireless] Coll says, "Two, two. This is one." Gods. Coll is on a radio. Her voice sounds a little faint, though. "Mortar might still be active. Be advised you may not want to hover, sir."

[Into the Wireless] Cidra says, "I am landed, Crewman, stick to your work, please."

Cora coughs and hacks and dodges splattering burning tar along with the rest as they shove the first viper out of the barn, picking up a little momentum eventually as they make it to the exit.

"Yeah, I'm a frakking optimist!" Constin hollers back at Coll's question, before spending the next breath straining against Viper one. He's cursing again (that's a good sign), as the first Viper is cleared, and the Sergeant lowers his head, draws a deep breath and dashes back in for the second bird, assault rifle slung across his back.

Cidra exits her Raptor once she's got it down in the yard not far from the barn. It wasn't exactly a long flight. Back to the barn she goes, to assist with the Viper pushing. Probably cursing her decision to forgo sleeves today, yet again.

Sofia is coughing and hacking, squeaking painfully a moment. Tar! Sofia no like tar! She shakes it off and helps shove, move weapons and assist where she can. Cora and Constin's presence is reassuring, staving off panic and the inborn urge to run, run, run away from the fire. She seems relieved once at least one or two birds make it out.

Coll spends 1 luck points on Plz dont crash nao..
<FS3> Coll rolls Raptors: Bad Failure.

Coll spends 2 luck points on One more time..
<FS3> Coll rolls Raptors: Failure.

<OOC> Serpens says, "NOW, if I could have an Athletic-15 roll from everyone within the barn trying to push the last Viper out, please."

<FS3> Cora rolls Athletic-15: Success.
<FS3> Constin rolls Athletic-15: Success.
<FS3> Sofia rolls Athletic-15: Success.
<FS3> Cidra rolls Athletic-15: Success.

With the tail scraping along, Coll's Raptor slowly yaws to the right while she tries to compensate. Its tough going but she manages to swing the Raptor around in time. The woman is sweating bullets and nearly gasping her breath as she hovers away from the barn. Her eyes track Cidra for a moment as the woman runs back towards the barn. Slowly, carefully, and with a little luck, Coll wobbles the Raptor onto the ground about twenty yards from Cid's - on level ground and far from anyone/anything else. As soon as she is down, Lauren reaches up and flips a pair of rocker switches marked 'FUEL R L' while she unstraps. The Raptor is still whining down when she bolts back towards the, trying not to smile.

The surging whine of the Raptors' turbojets whips the air within the barn into a frenzy, stirring up clouds of dust and grit from below, pulling down sparks and burning spatters of melting tar from above.

The smoke is lit in sullen red splotches, the ground choked with burning chunks of roof. Beneath the sting of phosphorus smoke and burning tar is the woodsy tang of burning palmwood, as the roof's supports start to burn through, giving ominous pops and creaks.

The exit can't even be seen, anymore, as the final Viper is heaved toward the barn doors — even as a massive chunk of roof smashes into the nose of the vessel to serve as an eye-stinging navigational beacon.

Constin keeps his head low, one hand raised and held before his eyes to try and ward the worst of the sparks and scraps away from his narrow eyes, as the sergeant plants himself behind the last remaining bird in the barn, and grits his teeth as he starts shoving for all he's worth and taking detached notice of the bits of burning thatch and timber which rain down on the Viper's paintjob. No more shouts right now from the big marine.

<OOC> Serpens says, "Everyone is having problems breathing. Eyes are stinging badly enough they really don't want to stay open. Sparks are everywhere. Burning drops of tar are everywhere. The successful rolls keep you from serious harm, but you're all getting lightly singed."

Cora keeps her head down as well, eyes not really open most of the time, honestly, pretty much hoping someone else is making sure they're headed for the door, though it seems unlikely the viper would get enough power behind it to suddenly veer off the wrong way.

Sofia is helping push the Raptor too. She coughs though, eyes watering and barely refusing to open. She winces as she's lightly crisped. She has her head down, just as the others do.

Cidra is coughing and huffing as she aids in the shoving of the Viper out of the barn. She gulps the air when it gets a little fresher than pure smoke, which just sends her into another fit of coughing. There's still that stinging haze in the air. But she manages to continue pushing and not collapse.

Coll dodges over a fallen beam and darts to a corner. The smoke is thick, though, and she trips over an unseen crate. Jackpot. Rolling up onto her feet, she bats sparks out of her hair before stooping to grab the crate of heavy weapons ammunition and start dragging it towards the doors. Shouldn't be too far, right?

<OOC> Serpens says, "Okay, I'd like an Athletic-20 to get the Viper and its pushers clear, and an Athletic-25 from Coll for going off to the side for more crates."
<FS3> Sofia rolls Athletic-20: Terrible Failure.
<FS3> Cora rolls Athletic-20: Success.
Cidra spends 1 luck points on PUSH IT!!!!.
<FS3> Cidra rolls Athletic-20: Failure.
<FS3> Constin rolls Athletic-20: Success.
<FS3> Coll rolls Athletic-25: Bad Failure.

Closer. Closer. The slightly fresher air is such sweet temptation — but those first welcome gulps are cruelly filled with dust as the fire hungrily pulls the outside air in.

A loud crack from above showers fresh sparks down upon everyone, and a plummeting chunk of flaming roof strikes Sofia, the burning tar clinging to her clothing across her back and shoulders. At least the ground outside the barn is marginally safer to stop, drop and roll across.

Within the barn, the choking smoke and debris-strewn floor proves too much of a maze to navigate, as Coll stumbles across a chunk of burning roof-timber that smashes to ground like a fiery comet in front of her.

You paged Coll with 'What this means: If you're going to try to keep pulling the crate out, next roll is -30 and I'd recommend the luck. More honestly, I'd recommend GTFO. Injuries are non-life-threatening: badly skinned knees from the stumble, scorching, smoke inhalation.'

You paged Sofia with 'What this means: You'll want to stop, drop and roll immediately. Assuming this is done, your injuries will be mostly 1st degree burns with a small bit of blistering where the tar gets to your skin. If Sofia panics and runs like a Greek Fire round, it may be worse for her.'

Constin gives the rolling Viper one last shove, as it clears the smoke and enters into the dust. A short look around as the sergeant hollers hoarsely, "Get clear!" to Sofia, before looking back into the smoke. He doesn't curse. That's bad. Holding one arm across his lower face, the sergeant sucks in as deep a breath as he can through dust and smoke, and Hollers, "Coll?"

Cora ducks her head — against the choking smoke and the dust and the spattering tar and also for maximum viper-shoving as they labor to get the last of the craft out of the barn. When it gets clear she takes a step away, doubling over to cough and cough and gulp for breath before looking up and wheezing, "Wolfe and Coll?" She turns back towards the barn, and then, still coughing, begins to jog back in.

Whoa!! Falling roof. Coll stumbles over the whole piece and nearly falls face-first into a pile of burning tar. Her loose hair is not so lucky and a nice big lock of it is burned right away as she rolls out. Her knees knock hard into a fallen piece of structure and she grunts, batting the bits of flaming stickiness on her pants. Panic begins to set in. Not like this. FRAK THAT. She squints towards the door, she breathing becomes strained and the woman begins hacking, starting to choke. "EL!! HELP!!" she calls back as best she can, devolving back into another hacking mess as she tries to crawl for the exit.

Sofia yelps as she's handily hit across the back and shoulders with a chunk of flaming roof. Tar clings to her clothing. She wants to be selfless and think of Coll, but nervous systems are selfish that way. They are programmed to worry about their own backsides. Coll? Where- "Ah - " Hey! She's more worried about putting herself out for a moment, all too aware of what happens when one runs with fire on them. She hears Coll, a distant din. "Coll-" No wait, she's not in any shape to help, she's putting herself out. Silly Sofia.

Cidra's head whips around at poor Sofia. But at least the engineer can stop, drop and roll. Coll may not be so fortunate. "Wolfe, stay there. We shall get the crewman out." And she heads back into the burning barn to do just that.

Coll's answer gives Constin an idea of where inside that mess Lauren is, and the marin wades back into the mess, hollering at the ground (so as to minimize the chance of swallowing burning tar), "This way!" as he crouches low and keeps moving toward where Lauren had answered from. No coughing yet, small shallow breaths are helping with that, but it's only sa matter of time. "Come on!" he hollers again.

Cora heads in with Constin, attempting intermittantly to try to peer through the smoke and pick out the crewman. "Are you hurt?" she shouts after the marine's exhortation.

Coll clambors over some already charred debris, dragging her knees behind her on the dirt floor and across the wood. She isn't hard to find because she's still hacking and choking. For now. "Knees," she grunts in reply to Cora before hacking again. The woman does her best to move towards the voices, though. Not too much further to the exit. Better hurry before them munitions cook off.

Cidra wades into the mess along with Constin, following Coll's voice, trying not to inhale too deep herself. And really, really regretting, yet again, her decision to go sleeveless today. No shouting from her in the stinging smoke. She'll help Coll out as she can.

It's always hard not to feel a bit guilty about surviving and not really helping anyone. Sofia is happy to put herself out though, staying outside and deciding not t push her luck. For now though, she calls softly, "Coll! Everyone…?" Are they still in there? She cranes and peers from where she is, not daring to go back in.

There she is. Constin hears the word 'knees' and nods once, reachin an arm around Coll's back, instucting "Arm around!" shortly lifting the woman's weight up off the ground and drag-carrying the Crewman toward the outside. Teeth gritted and eyes downcast, as the destruction of the barn is nearing completion around the bunch.

Coll is spotted as Cora and Constin clambor over debris and avoid more of it falling from the roof above. When the injured crewman is finally spotted and Constin assists on one side, the lieutenant steps in on the other, taking the other half of Coll's weight and helping speed them all back out of the barn before the roof collapses entirely.

Another gunshot-like CRACK sends a fresh spattering of sparks and tar across the floor. Rivulets of liquid fire dribble down the supports, forming puddles and streams across the floor.

It would make for a beautiful Phlegethon diorama, if it wasn't for all the smoke.

"Get out, GET OUUUT!" come the cries from outside the barn. "The roof's coming down!" As if those fleeing can't tell, themselves, as a plank slams down near them — WHUMP — hard enough to make the ground shake.

It's the final trip anyone dares to make within the barn, and dawn bleeds its way across the sky before the gutted structure finishes smoking.

Sagittaron's friendliest send their regards.

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