it's gonna rain - and it never ends

[thespaceopera]

[ It's midday, or close enough to it that the sun is blazing red hot above the planet. Everything seems ordinary - for disturbing, red-tinted values of ordinary, anyway. But the normalcy doesn't last for long.

Without warning, an explosive sound shocks through the jungle. It doesn't come from any one central point, but rather several points, scattered throughout, strategically placed to the advantage of someone. And from those massive shocks rises a wave of missiles - large, fast, and apparently, freely flying. They're guided, and they've locked onto their target: any foreign ship that is currently within Lato'li's atmosphere.

There's no way to mistake it. They're headed right for the Fleet.

The first wave feels a bit sporadic - timings might be off, but the missiles are still deadly, and if they hit, they hit hard. Shields might withstand this wave, but ships without shields will take direct hits. The ability to stay airborn is very, very quickly lost.

The second wave is much more precise, expertly timed and executed by whomever is firing from below. Even smaller shuttles get caught in the crosshairs, and those ships that lasted through the first volley will take a few more shots. If shields saved you before, they will fail here, giving out under the strain.

And the third wave comes, a little bit longer after, to finish the job. There are more of them, and they are far more advanced - they make the previous two volleys look like warning shots. This time, it's all missiles launched, all targets acquired.

Seven Fleet ships - and many, many shuttles - fall out of the sky, headed straight for the surface at alarming speed. Only four ships manage to escape the assault and exit the planet's atmosphere, retreating to orbit as fast as possible. Those lucky enough to have been in orbit can only watch as all of this happens.

But the missiles aren't the only thing up their sleeve. Just when the dust settles, while the network is surely lighting up with activity, attempts to contact one another and check on the status of fellow ships and crew, A loud, quick, terrible screeching noise shocks the network. It drowns out all communications on any connected devices - ship or personal. Ships in orbit will see all on-board systems flicker, then fizzle out, all non-emergency systems have gone completely down.

And with that.. there's silence. Perhaps too much silence. No matter what you do, no matter which buttons you press, which channels you try, there is no connection. Those who have dropped to the surface are entirely radio silent, and those in orbit have been reduced to the barest of abilities and life-support, with the bare minimum of contact.

So... What can you do now? ]


(( ooc: Feel free to use this post as a mingle for all your crashy or missile-dodgy needs!

• The following ships have been shot down: Bishop, Bloodsport, Blue Fish, Goldstone, Heron, Tourist, Twin Roses.
• The following ships are now in orbit: Blameless, Caprine, First Breath, Huntress, Iskaulit, Red Fish, Starstruck, Vanquish, Wonderduck

Good luck, Dear Fleet...~ ♪ ))

Comments

[fantachetic]

I'm far from dying, I assure you.

[ Maybe his words are a little breathy, but hey, he'll live. His hand moves to his side, that burning pain seeming to flair now that the adrenaline is well and spent. Dorian expects blood when he pulls his fingers away, but there's nothing except pain where he touched. It feels like a burn, but with it is a sharp, throbbing pain like one would expect from a stabbing. Do these people have access to strange weapons that aren't primitive? ]

[samahl]

[Cyril focuses more on the breathy sound and considers Dorian's hand for a moment.]

Rinoa had to get out a first aid kit for Kiter earlier. I can find it again to see if there's anything from it you can use?

[fantachetic]

I wouldn't want to waste supplies if someone may need it more. [ Maybe it would help if he at least looked at it. ]

Perhaps assessing the damage wouldn't be a bad idea, either.

[samahl]

[He nods, and then moves to get into a room where they can sit.]

Let's find someplace you'll be more comfortable and I'll look at the wound.

[fantachetic]

I imagine it feels a touch worse than it actually is.

[ He follows Cyril into one of the nearby rooms and sits. It takes more time than he'd care to admit to undo the buckles and straps enough to at least get his torso out. Aside from a mottling of bruises on his chest, there's a messy, cauterized burn that might look like a gunshot if either of them were familiar with one. ]

[samahl]

[Cyril isn't, not yet anyway, and he doesn't have any idea what kind of weapon would make such a wound. He's very careful not to wince because he doesn't want to worry Dorian.]

I think some kind of treatment is required. Perhaps some kind of burn ointment? Do you mind waiting for me to fish out the first aid kit again?

[fantachetic]

[ Very good move not to worry the mage. Not that it would stop him, really. ]

I don't suppose I should go anywhere like this. [ Gesturing to his state of undress. ]

[samahl]

[Which makes Cyril realize that Dorian is indeed in a state of undress. He had been too worried to process that at first. He pauses for a moment and lets his eyes take that sight in.]

Not unless you want all of us to go mad with jealousy.

[Then he's gone to retrieve the first aid. He returns with it shortly.]

[fantachetic]

Perhaps another time. It seems a shame to waste that potential in the middle of a dead forest whilst being hunted.

[ The gift would be lost in this place, truly. ]

[samahl]

[Cyril always loves Dorian's willingness to continue flirting but now his mind is focused on first aid. When he returns with the kit he sets it by Dorian and works to figure out how to use the items inside. Luckily, most of the packages have instructions on them.

He is very careful to use an ointment first and then covers the wound with some bandages. His hands are very gentle with Dorian, treating him a bit like something to treasure. When he's finished, his touch lingers on Dorian's back for a moment.]

I'm afraid I'm not healer, but does that feel any better?

[fantachetic]

[ Not continuing to flirt wouldn't be congruent with how he is. He watches Cyril silently while he works, and he does marvel a bit at how numb the wound feels, so that's something. Small mercies, it seems. ]

It's certainly better than it was, and it will have to do for now. There are more pressing issues. [ He starts pulling himself back together as he speaks. ]

Thank you.

[samahl]

[Cyril offers him a bit of a smile.]

I'll say, you're terribly distracting now that that I'm not as worried as I was.

Do you need help with any of that? [Those are a lot of buckles Dorian....]