Even Death May Die - Cute Cthulhu Cultist! (Flying Circus Quest)

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Character Sheet
  • Informational
    • Character Sheet
    Isabelle Morgenthau
    A Fisher

    Isa (left) and her boyfriend Arren (right)

    Hard Keen Calm Daring Wild
    +4 -1 +4 +1 -1
    Moves
    Creepy: When a comrade sees you perform a ritual, overhears your prayers, or sees signs of your alienness, they lose Trust in you. Once they learn one of your Moves, they are no longer affected, but they gain Creepy as well.
    Deep Ones:When you call out to your patrons, they give +1 forward on your next roll.
    Blessing: When you dab fresh blood on an item roll +Calm. On a 16+, take both. On an 11-15, choose 1. Effects last 1 Routine.
    • Take +1 Ongoing with this item this Routine. (+5 Handling for a plane)
    • The item cannot break or be lost this Routine. (Armour 3/8+ for a plane)
    On a miss, make a bigger sacrifice or the machine is damaged.
    Ideomotor Response: Your plane effectively has a programmable autopilot. It does not have to be switched on and off; it "knows" when you are behind the controls.
    Soul-Bound: When you paint a rune in blood on an aircraft, you are linked. While in flight, you can take incoming Structure damage as Stress, 1-1. You can take a hit that would strike a Component as Injury, or give incoming Injury to your Engine.
    Written in Ink: When you get a tattoo to mark an major milestone, take 3 Stress , describe the tattoo and where it's inked, and link it to a Fisher move. Whenever you use that Move, lose 1 Stress (max 1 time per Routine per Move).
    Bond: (Witch move learned from Wulf) When you hold an object of significance and make an emotional connection to it, take 1 Stress. The object becomes a magical Focus, and you learn it's Nature (Earth, Air, Water, Fire, Iron, or Blood).
    Whispered Answers: You get visions.
    Gifts from the Abyss: Your connection to the Deep Ones is physically changing you. Name the physically obvious mutation you have received and describe how it frightens or disgusts the unfaithful. It can be hidden, but not perfectly, and just seeing it will trigger Creepy. All XP advances now cost 1 less XP (minimum 1).
    Strategist: When you lay out a plan of action, anyone following the plan (including you) can opt to use your stats on the roll if they are better, and roll Seize the Initiative with their best stat. This lasts until a comrade is wounded or events go drastically off script.

    Mastery
    The Bushwack
    Ambush Predator: When you strike an enemy who is unaware of your presence, roll with Advantage.
    Forced Evade: When you fire to scare an opponent off, spend 1 ammo and roll +Hard. On a hit, instead of dealing damage, choose one: Target dives 1, target climbs 1, target loses speed in a forced turn. On a 16+, roll attack dice on them anyway.
    Momentum: When you dive onto a target, add +1 AP.
    Scissors Snip: When you disengage, give an ally +3 towards dealing with your target.

    Familiar Vices
    - Drinking
    - Prayer
    - Dancing
    - Cannabis

    Intimacy Move
    When you are intimate with another, choose one of you to get a hold. They can spend that hold to give the other a command: if followed, then forward to their next +Stat move, they will always score at least a partial hit, regardless of what the dice say.

    If you use this move in the air, there are two holds, and they can be distributed however you agree.

    The Company
    People
    • Isabelle (Fisher): The PC. Was once an acolyte training at her village's temple, but fled abuse at the hands of the cult leader. Possibly the mortal avatar of the dark gods, and remarkably calm and patient, Isabelle is the world's most mature 19 year old. Which isn't saying much. 1 thaler per Routine.
    • Arren (NPC- Confidant/Observer): Your cute fish boyfriend, Arren is a sweet boy in way over his head, but he loves you more than anything. Artist, deeply empathetic, quietly devoted, everyone finds him hot. 1 thaler per Routine.
    • Wulf (Witch): Your girlfriend and a former bandit leader with a fractally tragic backstory. Basically incapable of impulse control, she puts on a confident mask to hide how much she's hurting. Her dad was a wolf. The world's only transgender pansexual half-fae witch. 1 thaler per Routine.
      • Hard +3, Keen +3, Calm -2, Daring +0, Wild +3 (Avenger)
    • Minna Hammerl (Soldier): Highly trained soldier from a military junta, who exiled her due to her autism. The squadron's second in command, the most beautiful woman in the world, and the only person on this crew of idiots whose life doesn't revolve around getting laid. Does not use contractions. 1 thaler per Routine.
      • Hard +4, Keen +1, Calm +2, Daring -2 (Professional)
    • Heinrich Engel (Student): Political science student working on his thesis-slash-manifesto. Mentor in a queer society back home, he's the one who actually knows things about stuff. Deeply camp. "i think if heinrich tried to not say stupid things he would suffer a toxic buildup and fucking die"
      • Hard -1, Keen -1, Calm +2, Daring +2
    • Anny Meldgaard (NPC - Mechanic): A young half-Fischer, half-Himmilvolk woman from Piav, trained by the mechanics there. Looking for adventure and her origins. Blushes pink?
    • Ronja Devapala (NPC - Non-Combat Pilot): Anny's friend from Piav, descendant of Skyborn but adopted by locals, unsure who she is. Enthusiast of sarcasm and the only person on the crew with her shit mostly together.
    Temporary Members
    • Marcus (Farmer): A Macchi native. He goes where Lyse goes. Flies a specialized seaplane with a precision rifle.
    • Lyse (Scion): A bastard child of a Sopwith noble family. Flies a V-engine triplane conversion.
    • Ann-Lise Holms (Revenant): The ghost of famed Great War ace Stormcloud, the best female fischer ace of the war. Flies a 200hp KW-AN.

    Aircraft
    • Isa & Arren's Plane: A Teicher Möwen seaplane. Steel frame, liquid-cooled engine. Deeply possessed. 1 thaler per Routine.
    • Fang Howl: Wulf's helicopter. An experimental pre-war model. Liquid-cooled radial. Three wolf moon. 1 thaler per Routine.
    • Pup: Wulf's Kreuzer Skorpion prototype retrieved from a sealed hanger. Gets a lot out of an underpowered engine.
    • Minna's Kobra: An inline-engine powered, wood framed fighter. All around an excellent machine. 1 thaler per Routine.
    • Heinrich's Reconstruction: A canard plane with a 30mm cannon in the nose. Awkward and unstable but hits like a train. 1 thaler per Routine.
    • The Pioneer: A huge 3 engine'd cargo plane with capacity for two airplanes and an additional eight people. 3 thaler per Routine.
    ​
    Stress XP Mastery
    7 3 2
    Cash Expenses Value
    22 14 11
    Vice Track: ☐☐☐☐☐
    9 Victories​
    You're welcome
     
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  • Informational
    • thamuzz said:
    Given how the Fischervolk appear to be adapted to cold water, they might not enjoy it all that much.
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    Warm water has lower oxygen content than cold, so they'll get...whatever the gilled equivalent of "out of breath" is...easier than they're used to. I doubt the water temperature will be actively uncomfortable in its own right, though it will certainly be unlike what they're used to.
     
    1-9: Silver Beach
  • Threadmarks
    • You were heading up north, further north. There wasn't really a specific goal other than the compass direction, no real drive but to get to the next town. You were rapidly discovering there was always work, always something to do, so it didn't really matter where you headed next. Idly, you'd decided north, figuring it was as different from your home as you could get. Warm, sunny, beautiful... the Macchi peninsula was always presented, by the old books you'd read and conversations you'd had with the more worldly members of you village, as a sort of paradise, the sort of soft living that made the inlanders the carefree and ignorant people they were, ruined by the people there and their inability to stop fighting one another.

    You were making pretty good time north: Heinrich said you'd done an average of two hundred fifty kilometers a day for the last three weeks, hopping from village to village and taking on small jobs here and there. You'd fired guns maybe four times the whole trip: the flight against the clockwork men was easily the most action so far. Arren had fired warning shots at some opportunist creatures (and once at a flight of ragged bandits who'd quickly turned away) and at one point you'd taken a job to hunt down a whaling balloon, but you'd found it crashed against a mountain already, apparently crushed by something, whale-oil cascading off in an iridescent waterfall. It was almost a shame: whalers were the lowest of the low, you would have appreciated a chance to take a shot at them.

    Mostly, though, you'd taken simple jobs of carrying mail and passengers that happened to go the way you were going, which didn't cover your expenses but slowed the bleed of money down to something manageable. Nobody was in the Minnows to make money, as much as Wulf complained as thalers slipped through your fingers. The next stop was at her insistence, to mollify her concerns.

    You were heading for the town of Silberbleiche. It was at some point a sort of resort town for prewar capitalists and the upper class, and one of them was still there and was looking for pilots. The Hummingbirds had another job scoped out down south, so this one was yours. It was a ways north, in Macchi properly, and it was supposed to be as stunning a place as there was.

    As the mountains finally broke and you emerged, two hundred kilometers northeast of your starting point, you could see that part, at least. The ocean was laid out picturesque before you, but unlike the dark and cloudy sea of your home, this was bright blue water, the sun reflecting off it like a mirror. Below was the town, carved into the rock itself around a crescent beach, multicolour buildings piled atop each other. There was an airfield at the top of the town, rock forced flat by some extravagant prewar engineering project, but it was a solid thing unsuited for the floats of your seaplane.

    "Arren, see any place for us to put down?" You asked into the intercom, craning your head around the nose to look. You felt the plane wiggle in the air as he leaned out, and then you heard him gasp.

    "There's plane on the ocean. There's... like a jetty there, or something. Oh gods."

    They wanted you to land on the ocean? Were they insane? Back home, there was an artificial lagoon, established at great cost generations ago, and everywhere you went there were lakes, reservoirs, channels, or at least a soft field to put down. That was too good for these idiots, though.

    "Fuck that, I'm going to land on the beach." You said. Nice soft sand, it was practically like water, and moreover it probably wouldn't kill you. You throttled back and started drifting in, circling around the town a few times to lose altitude. As you got closer, what you thought were birds or rocks on the beach turned out to be people.

    "What are they doing?" Arren asked.

    "I dunno, fucking inlanders." You swore, sailing over their little umbrellas to a flatter patch of sand that seemed clear of idiots with a death wish. The floats touched down and sank a bit into the sand, and you killed the engine as you skidded to a halt.

    You pulled off your goggles and stood up in your seat, surveying around. People, many of them wearing very little, were starting to pull themselves up off the sand and stare. Their fault for crowding the safest landing zone for... whatever reason. Idiots.

    As you gathered your stuff and dismounted, trying to ignore the stares of the onlookers, you were interrupted by three men with white uniforms. Only one of them looked armed in a meaningful way, with a pistol on a chain leading to his belt. "Hands in the air, right now!" He yelled, and, not really seeing a way out bar shooting, you complied.

    "What's this about?" You asked, as one of them stepped forward to relieve you of your pistol and knife. "Oh, what the fuck. Look, how much do I need to pay to make this go away?"

    You weren't scared, really, you'd had guns pointed at you before. Annoyed, more like.

    "This isn't about money. Come on." The man leading the group waved his pistol, and, with a sigh you followed, Arren right behind you. You'd had a few less than friendly landings during your trip up, you were starting to get used to them. Eventually they'd sit you down with some important person, slide them a gold coin worth more than their house, and be on your way.

    ---

    "These are the idiots with the seaplane, ma'am."

    You and Arren were shoved roughly into seats in a small stone building you figured for some kind of armoury. It was swealteringly hot: the windows were open and a small electric fan was whirling in the corner, but you noticed thick iron bars and locks everywhere. Some kind of armoury, or maybe a militia headquarters. Across the desk from you was a woman in her forties, maybe, lithe and thin and dark-skinned, wearing the same uniform as the men who'd arrested you.

    "Thank you, Milo." The woman sounded tired, and looked it too. She glanced over the two of you and lit a cigarette as the man left the room. She had a particular accent, different from the last town, though familiar from a few travelers you'd met from the region.

    "So, what are you, militia captain?" Arren asked.

    "Chief of police." She responded.

    "What's a 'police'?" You asked. Polizei. The word seemed familiar, maybe from the old newspapers, but you'd never heard it said aloud and you weren't entirely sure what it meant. Some kind of army thing, maybe, in the old cities.

    "We enforce the law and protect people in the town?" She said, sounding as though she wasn't sure it was a genuine question.

    "... so police is like, the Macchi word for militia, then?" Arren said. The woman rubbed her temples, wincing.

    "No. We're not militia, or any kind of military. If the town needs defending, the militia will be assembled, but day to day, we walk the streets, deter crime, enforce the law..."

    "Oh! You're like a night watch!" That made sense.

    "Yes, but... also during the day." She said, entirely seriously.

    "Okay, cool. So, uh, how much is this going to cost us? I don't exactly carry my money on me these days, the rest of my squadron-" You started, but were quickly cut off.

    "... you're not bribing you're way out of this, pilot. There's going to be consequences." She intoned.

    "Wait. Shit, I think I misread this." You laughed, the absurdity of it catching up. "Is this about landing on the beach? We didn't see a good spot to come in..."

    "How about the water. In your seaplane." She said insistently.

    "Like, the ocean?" You shared a glance with Arren. This lady was clearly crazy.

    "...Yes. In the ocean."

    "That's suicide. Why would you ask pilots to do that?"

    She stared at you a few minutes, utterly dumbstruck. Finally, she found a few words, at least.

    "So... you do realize that not all oceans are like the one from your home, right?"

    "I mean, yeah, the Dark Sea is more dangerous than most, yes, but why take the risk?"

    She nodded, a slow resignation on her face. "Look, you... two. If you can swim, the ocean around here doesn't really get dangerous at all until you get a few kilometers out. You put a lot of people at risk for nothing. What if somebody hadn't been able to get out of the way?"

    Your turn to fumble around looking for words. Fortunately, Arren was faster than you, and much better at being respectful to authority.

    "Our apologies, ma'am. We were unaware. You need to understand, where we're from, so much as flying low over water can be a death sentence. We thought were were acting to preserve our lives."

    She looked at you through narrow eyes, finishing her cigarette slowly.

    "... Alright. Fine. Out of my sight."

    You took your leave, moved quickly and quietly outside, and the moment you were clear of the watching eyes of the policemen, burst out laughing.

    ---

    You met up with your team at a bar down near the beach, which was open front, bright and sunny, with parasols to keep away the sun as you sat and drank. They had beer, and wine, and also mixed drinks in a variety of strange colours, infused with fruit juices and similar. You were curious, but dismissed it for now, and returned to the table with a small beer and some food.

    You'd sent a message runner (namely, a kid who'd been standing around, bribed with one of the town's silver coins) to send a message to the old man, and now you were waiting, relaxing and letting the rigour of the long flight dissipate. You were watching, somewhat concerned, as people waded into the surf or paddled out to sea, most of them dressed in very little. It was hard to suppress a sort of horror over it: these people were, for fun, essentially enacting what was the most popular form of suicide back home. A form you'd considered a few times, when things were at their worst.

    "They're idiots, all of them." You muttered to Arren, a little louder than intended.

    "I dunno, it looks fun." Wulf said. "Been a while since I had a good swim."

    "I'd be up for a dip, for sure." Heinrich peered over his glasses at some of the young men walking by, wearing what honestly looked like skintight underclothes. "Seems a lovely time."

    "This place sure is popular." Arren mused. "Might be something to it."

    "The airfield was quite full. They have hangers dug into the mountain, old military ones." Minna explained. Turns out the place was some kind of vacation spot: trade pilots and mercenaries both liked to swing by

    "Wonder why that guy put the word out? There's probably a few other Circuses here right now, he probably didn't have to." Ronja speculated.

    "Well, I've got my reasons I couldn't ask locally." A new voice said, and you all jumped in your seats a little. You glanced over to see a thin old man standing there, silver beard and a monocle of all things. He shuffled over and took a seat at one of the benches you were resting at, smiling. "Hopefully, you lot will be more up to the task, though."

    All eyes turned to you. You were, technically, in charge, after all.

    "Isabelle Morganthau, these are my Minnows." You introduced, reaching out a hand. He took it and shook, smiling broadly.

    "Ulrich Sundermann. Yes, that Sundermann." He said, as if you were supposed to know.

    "Sorry, I'm not sure which Sundermann you're supposed to be." You said honestly. Heinrich rolled his eyes.

    "He made all our guns, Isa. Sundermann Arms built guns for the war. The MG-79s on all our planes, those were his company." Heinrich explained. How did he always know everything?

    "Of course, I was a young man then. '79... forty years ago this year, if you can believe it. I barely can. Sixty-eight years old!" That smile only grew larger, and you were impressed by how good his teeth were, for that age. Bright white, even. "Started the company with my brother when I was a teenager, out of my father's garage! Now look at me!"

    You weren't sure what you were supposed to be looking at, so you just smiled and nodded.

    "Well, your guns have served me quite well so far, so thank you."

    "You're quite welcome. Not exactly the intended use case, of course, but we built them tough. Anyway, let's get down to the business at hand. I've got a grandson, love him to bits. His mother... my daughter, she passed not long after he was born, sad to say. I've pretty much been raising the little tyke ever seen. Anyway, he's sixteen now, and he's convinced he wants to be one of you. A combat pilot, blazing across the skies!"

    "You want us to hire your grandson, sir?" Arren surmised.

    "Heavens no! I want you to scare the shit out of him! It's all he ever talks about, and I swear, one of these days he's going to actually go through on this madness and run away to sign up. I lost his uncle to warplanes, probably to one of my own damn guns, which is what happens when you sell to both sides. I'm not losing him too. I've managed to keep a fortune and a gun plant together for him to have when I'm gone and I won't stand for him dying like an idiot."

    "I'm not sure I follow." You said, doing your best to be diplomatic. Sure, being a pilot was dangerous, but this was kind of insulting.

    "I'll tell him I've thought about what he's been saying, and I found an outfit I trust for him, if he's interested. Then you go do something dangerous that scares him witless and bring him back here, he has second thoughts, problem solved. Seems easy, doesn't it?"

    "What's pay look like?" Wulf asked.

    "You're a woman after my own heart, miss! 22 thaler, and I'll cover you for ammunition and suchlike. Least I can do."

    [ ] Sounds good. (End of night roll, start mission.)
    [ ] This isn't the kind of jobs we do. (Continue messing around and looking for work.)
    [ ] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)

    You squadron now has a Company Value of 5: 4 combat pilots, +1 because you're an Ace. That means that, when you roll Negotiate (+Calm), you take a -1 for every 5 thaler you ask for in excess of the original pay.​
    Adhoc vote count started by open_sketch on May 12, 2019 at 1:35 PM, finished with 44 posts and 20 votes.
    • [X] A beachside town, once a tourist destination, where rumour was a rich old man needed a problem solved.
      [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
      -[X] Guarantee payment for just taking the kid on a job
      -[X] Get a bonus if the kid actually renounces joining a circus.
      [X] A farming community that produces castor oil, in need a defender.
      [X] A mountain town known as a trade hub. There would be work there.
      [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
      [X] "You have no idea how someone who wants to be a pilot thinks, do you?"
      -[X] Negotiate for contingency clauses. Those being either death or the heir deciding that he actually likes death defying adventures.
      [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
      -[X] Guarantee payment for just taking the kid on a job
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by open_sketch on May 12, 2019 at 1:35 PM, finished with 19 posts and 7 votes.
    • [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
      -[X] Guarantee payment for just taking the kid on a job
      -[X] Get a bonus if the kid actually renounces joining a circus.
      [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
      [X] "You have no idea how someone who wants to be a pilot thinks, do you?"
      -[X] Negotiate for contingency clauses. Those being either death or the heir deciding that he actually likes death defying adventures.
      [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
      -[X] Guarantee payment for just taking the kid on a job
    Click to expand...
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)

    This could get . . . complicated, and I think we want more money to be taking on what is essentially a combined combat-escort mission.

    edit: But on the other hand, I kind of really want to meet the kid.
     
    That'd be a very thin margin to try to thread. I think we'd need to negotiate contingency clauses for when things inevitably go belly up. Make it clear that if it comes down to saving our own lives vs giving him a good scare, we're going to chose the former
     
    This seems like this could go kinda badly. What if the kid gets hurt? Or worse? This isn't some kind of chartered vacation service where we scare rich kids back on the straight and narrow. It's life and death.
     
    I wonder if the optimal approach is less thrilling, good story danger and more a mixture of pointless, inglorious danger, boredom and discomfort. Flying between a bunch of shitty wealth 1 towns taking boring, low paying jobs like scaring off semi-dangerous wildlife patrolling relatively safe mountain passes and delivering the mail. Maybe stage some bogus mechanical trouble that leads to what looks like a really risky situation without a good story to make it fun after the fact. Play up the struggle to make ends meet. Project the image that being in a flying circus is like being an unusually wealthy drifter, except death can always find you for no reason at all.
     
    brmj said:
    I wonder if the optimal approach is less thrilling, good story danger and more a mixture of pointless, inglorious danger, boredom and discomfort. Flying between a bunch of shitty wealth 1 towns taking boring, low paying jobs like scaring off semi-dangerous wildlife patrolling relatively safe mountain passes and delivering the mail. Maybe stage some bogus mechanical trouble that leads to what looks like a really risky situation without a good story to make it fun after the fact. Play up the struggle to make ends meet. Project the image that being in a flying circus is like being an unusually wealthy drifter, except death can always find you for no reason at all.
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    I feel like that would make a brilliant novel but kind of an awful tabletop campaign.

    Edit: Also, slightly more on topic, trying to scare an idealistic youngster out of his dream feels like it's:

    A: Totally fucking impossible. Stubborn young people with an idea in their stubborn heads are not frickin easy to dissuade.
    B: ...kinda soulcrushing if we succeed?
    C: But monies. A decent amount of monies. Like, a middling plane worth of monies. I would do this job for that kind of monies.
    D: Except, like, see A.
     
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    Huh, I wonder if this is a chance to recruit another PC. The Scion playbook is a noble with an estate, which doesn't seem that different from a capitalist with a company

    I can't say if it's right to scare him off without actually meeting him. He might be so ragingly incompetent (and/or an asshole) that joining a circus will only get good people killed.

    Also, if we take the job and fail to scare him, this guy might stiff us on the pay.
    [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
    -[X] Guarantee payment for just taking the kid on a job
    -[X] Get a bonus if the kid actually renounces joining a circus.
     
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    -[X] Negotiate for contingency clauses. Those being either death or the heir deciding that he actually likes death defying adventures.
     
    [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
    -[X] Guarantee payment for just taking the kid on a job
    -[X] Get a bonus if the kid actually renounces joining a circus.

    Hey, if it doesn't work blame the plan being harebrained
     
    [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
    -[X] Guarantee payment for just taking the kid on a job

    I'm not that interested in a bonus on top of our already generous pay so I'd prefer to take an easier roll to guarantee that when this goes tits up we still get the money.
     
    Okay, so - safer counteroffer. How about we get the kid in on the most ridiculously tedious, exhausting, unnecessary waste-of-money-brains-and-time assignment we can concoct between us? Spend a week or two with him as observer for 6 hours at a stretch while we 'patrol' through the most unpleasant weather available, field-service every component of every plane we have, lug fuel back and forth for no discernible reason, all that good stuff.
     
    thepsyborg said:
    C: But monies. A decent amount of monies. Like, a middling plane worth of monies. I would do this job for that kind of monies.
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    Plus expenses, so now might be a good time to get fancy ammo. I still want my APFSDSDU+P-T dazzle belts :V
    But I'll settle for some HE or AP rounds. (Obviously mixed with an HE-T or AP-T every few rounds)

    Funny thing, as written fancy ammo can still be used with Heat Rays. I don't know how, but it's amusing.

    [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
    -[X] Guarantee payment for just taking the kid on a job
    -[X] Get a bonus if the kid actually renounces joining a circus.
     
    FlatlineAskari said:
    Okay, so - safer counteroffer. How about we get the kid in on the most ridiculously tedious, exhausting, unnecessary waste-of-money-brains-and-time assignment we can concoct between us? Spend a week or two with him as observer for 6 hours at a stretch while we 'patrol' through the most unpleasant weather available, field-service every component of every plane we have, lug fuel back and forth for no discernible reason, all that good stuff.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    I like the way you think.

    Show him the most un-romantic side of the Flying Circus.
     
    samdamandias said:
    Funny thing, as written fancy ammo can still be used with Heat Rays. I don't know how, but it's amusing.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Maybe giving the heat ray a unique lens to adjust it's effects, with the specialty lens wearing out over time?

    FlatlineAskari said:
    Okay, so - safer counteroffer. How about we get the kid in on the most ridiculously tedious, exhausting, unnecessary waste-of-money-brains-and-time assignment we can concoct between us? Spend a week or two with him as observer for 6 hours at a stretch while we 'patrol' through the most unpleasant weather available, field-service every component of every plane we have, lug fuel back and forth for no discernible reason, all that good stuff.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    This is the best plan. Getting him into a death-defying scrape that ends with no one killed or seriously hurt will just make a wannabe pilot want to sign up for more. Getting him into a situation that's actually a horrifying clusterfuck will just get him or us killed. So instead, we show him the unending stream of bullshit that it military mercenary life.
     
    [X] Let's talk about pay. (Negotiate)
    -[X] Guarantee payment for just taking the kid on a job
    -[X] Get a bonus if the kid actually renounces joining a circus.

    Okay roll to negotiate, 2d10+4.
     
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