Space Marines Qst (not 40k!)

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>115054
>Get some rest (+2 bonus to rolls)

All around, general bonuses are always good.

>>115074
If dubs reroll, does that mean we have to take the new number, or do we choose the best one?

>>115081
I always choose the highest number, dubs or otherwise. So I'd choose the best roll.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>115054
>>Pull the logs on Cravan (Info about the world and its inhabitants)
We better know what's the current situation and who we're fighting.
We choose our men depending on the situation on the ground.

You don't babysit them to check their equipment. They know what they're doing or not - not our problem. Meat shields have their uses too.

>>115084
Still around op?

>>115074
You close the vidwindow. You close your eyes. Sleep doesn't come. You're tired of course, because travel is always tiring and because the lulls between combat demand rest. But still, the sleep doesn't come. You listen to your breath, your pulse and the flow of blood through your neck. You fidget and adjust your seat and your pillow and then you lay still, waiting...waiting. You thoughts drift.

Your sweetheart in a white dress, her feet bare and the sea breeze in her hair. The whiteness of the dress stretched out and discolored by the roundness of the belly, the way the sun hits just right on the midriff, the half-sphere, the expunged wrinkles and the way she leaned back on her heels because her load was heavy and precious.

No sounds, just sights. Just the corner of her lips held taught, the corner of eyes, folded in places, "your wrinkles" you used to say and brush them with the blunt of your finger-nail.

She didn't smile when you left. Not even as you kissed her goodbye and waved and boarded. She waved back, one hand resting on her burden and your burden, but her mouth and her lips assumed total neutrality. And in that instant, and even now, the doubt was sown. There was another. Another hand around her waist and in her hair. Another finger-tip brushing her wrinkles. Your wrinkles.

You open your eyes and reach into the overhead compartment. You fumble with your hand through the baggage. A small bag, you grab it. You open it with cautious silence, a strip of sedative-sleeves. You peel one off of the wrapper and slap it on your arm. The relief is immediate, though you know the drug takes time to act.

You close your eyes. You fall asleep.

------------------------------

"Hell and fuck man, this place is as wet as your mother's asshole." Said Yong.
"Ditto that my brother. Startin' to wonder how the slimes even fight in this place."said Melon.
"Gotta keep your shit squeaky. Water get in and bam, dead as lead." said Fat Mulder and he rubbed the inside of the gun barrel with his rag - a little harder than necessary - to emphasize the point.
"Nah man. Ain't guns or fire that kill out here. Gotta watch out for them bugs. Eels, leeches, ringworm, roundworm, brainies, you name it, its in the water." said Corter Blue, chewing his rations and talking through them, spitting brown gunk on his bunk.

A man with a straighter suit then yours and more notches on his lapel walks in. You get off your bunk. The man scans the bunks, silence immediately and totally. He points at you. You get up and salute. He gestures and you follow him outside.

The sun is high and you can see the hint of ocean, endless and moving. The sound of it in the air and the smell. "We received the paperwork just now. You won't be sent out till tomorrow." You nod.
"What're we doing?"
"Recon work, mostly. Don't know much about this place and natives haven't been exactly...accommodating."

(1/2)

File: Cravan Ocean.jpg (55KB, 660x371px) Image search: [Google]

55KB, 660x371px

>>119289
You note the bounce and burst of jowl sweat on the man's chin, the undulation of the fat as he speaks. He starts walking and you follow.
"Any combat?"
"Some." He points toward the horizon, east, northeast. "Got some hot areas there. But its lit up. Bombing raids every week."
"What's there?"
"Unobtium. Nice little pocket. We're just waiting for the recall now. Should be any day that they move in ground troops. Our boys are holding underground."
"I'm surprised the the land is deep enough for shelters."
"Its not. The water comes in every three days with the moons. Washes up everything. We set up underwater. Pillbox. Just waiting now. Recall any day." He paused, wiped his forehead, stopped in place. "Anyway, I could send you to the pillbox. I have orders to send one arriving group. Or if you prefer recon..."

You:
>Take the recon job
>Take the Pillbox post
>Other (write-in)

>Status
Well-rested (+2)

>>119381
>Take the recon job

>>119381

Let's take the recon job. Know the land

>>119289
>>119381
>>119414
>>119416
Forgot to mention to roll 1d20

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>119381
>Take the Pillbox post

It's a job that needs filling.

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>119414
>>119433

Recon Job

>>119938
"Pillbox sounds good. We'll head out there in the morning"
"Well alright. Tell your men to stay in the perimeter tonight." He shades his eyes and looks at the sky. "Gonna be a wet one." You nod and salute and return to your bunk.

It rains hard in the night, an angry kind of rain like mortar fire or spit. It continues into the morning, but your men must march and so they don their heavy coats and keep their weapons carefully wrapped in plastic and wear thick boots to keep out the rain and two pairs of socks. They wade in knee deep pools, weapons held aloft, rain-drops bouncing against their head. No thunder, just rain.

"Whoo! Ain't nothin' so wet in my life" said Melon.
"Your wife concurs." said Fat Mulder. And you note the flatness of his voice, the steady monotony which made everything into tragedy. Yong makes a popping sound with his mouth and Corter Blue pops his girlfriends necklace into his mouth. A gold chain with a little cross at the end. It was good luck, the smell of her in his mouth, the taste of her. Periodically the chain would pop out and Corter Blue would wipe away the rain and pop it back.

The trail is overrun by water and it is slow going. The rain lets up at noon and the sunshine bakes the wet earth. You spot a forest up ahead. The men grumble, wet and tired. The water clears away and you stand in the middle of a field.

You:
>Rest in the field (Quality up, Morale up)
>Keep going and head for the forest (Morale down)
>Other (write-in)

>>124661
Rest

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>125713
Didn't roll right