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| Standing On The Shore of Fate; What happens when you hear a familiar name on the TV...? | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 29 2012, 03:47 PM (517 Views) | |
| vicroc4 | Jul 4 2012, 01:55 AM Post #11 |
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Calmer now, Micah nods to himself as he says, "Figures. That does sound more like the NOL I know. Thirty hours, you say...?" He starts a quick mental inventory - and comes to a screeching halt as Siobhana's offhand comment hits home. "Wait, wormholes? Wouldn't that take a helluva lot of power to keep open?" This takes a second or two to get his head around. "Assuming that your associate can actually generate a stable wormhole, that would help the process along greatly. I believe that we can get everything that we need packed up in thirty hours. Is there a set rendezvous point?" |
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| Gleam | Jul 4 2012, 02:14 AM Post #12 |
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"The girl in question possesses a territory apparently unaccessible by any method of transport save her own." Siobhana replies, wry amusement flooding her tone at Micah's amazement. "That is our rendevous. The Brigand will be picking up your cargo beforehand, as it strains Rachel to transport too much matter at once." A pause. " . . . I, much like the rest of my compatriots, have little to no talent with seithr." she admits. "I am, admittedly, winging it. However, I've seen the girl use her power. It works." |
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.
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| vicroc4 | Jul 4 2012, 02:31 AM Post #13 |
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Deciding not to argue the point further, Micah replies, "I suppose I'll reserve judgement until the evidence is presented, then. It appears that there is more in this world than my philosophy has dreamt of." Getting back to business, Micah asks, "The Brigand, that's your transport, right? How much capacity does it have? I don't think we'll have anything too much to worry about, but I don't want to accidentally overload things." Meanwhile, Callie raps on the door and pushes it open. Seeing that Micah is still on the phone, she catches his attention, and then holds up three fingers. Micah nods, eyes wide, and gives a thumbs-up. That's everyone - Jack, Stephen, and Will have all agreed. |
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| Gleam | Jul 4 2012, 05:33 AM Post #14 |
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"The Brigand is a modified escort and carrier Shebalve." Siobhana says, droll. "Its transport capacity is just over four tons. If your assets are in excess of that amount, you have too many things, I am sorry to say. I'll send along Michael and Rueham to help out and provide security." |
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.
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| vicroc4 | Jul 4 2012, 06:27 AM Post #15 |
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Micah laughs. "Well, we do have too many things, but I don't think it'll be anywhere near four tons' worth. Alright, I'll get my people together and start getting stuff packed up. Thank you for the help." As he says this, he's jotting a list of necessary items on one of his omnipresent notepads. It's quite a bit longer, now that he has some room to work with. A rough glance puts his upper limit at around one-half to three-quarters of a ton, using ballpark weights for the big items. He might not be an aeronautical engineer, but he knew that load management was a major thing on aircraft, and he didn't want to be responsible for causing any problems... On second thought, perhaps it was a bit of his ingrained obsessiveness coming through. His father had pounded into his head not to tell a customer anything that he couldn't back up. It, apparently, also bled through to former customers-turned-rescuers - his ears dropped a bit as he spared a moment for the thought of how his father would be teasing him so badly right now. |
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| Gleam | Jul 4 2012, 11:55 PM Post #16 |
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"You are welcome." Siobhana says, amused. "I will have Rueham and Michael in contact shortly." There is a click, and then the dial tone is all that can be heard from the other side of the line. |
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.
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| vicroc4 | Jul 5 2012, 02:57 AM Post #17 |
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Setting the phone into its cradle, Micah sighed. Time to get the ball rolling, he guessed. As he went to stand up, though, a picture pinned to one of the bulletin boards caught his eye. It had been taken some time in his mid-teens, and he still had an awkward, gangly sort of look - like his limbs were a bit too long for his body. He was holding the chromed shotgun that was displayed out at the front of the shop - before it had been chromed - and his father was attempting to get him to adjust his stance. He sat back down, hard. Steadying himself, he reached for the phone again. Fingers dialed a familiar number, and he waited as it rang once, twice... A male voice on the other end picked up and greeted him with, "Hello, Cholin Gunsmiths, this is Adam Cholin speaking. How can I help you?" Biting back his nerves, Micah started, "Hi, Dad, it's me, Micah..." --- Edited by vicroc4, Jul 5 2012, 02:59 AM.
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6:55 AM Jul 13