"FAMILY ALEXANDER- YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE!" bellowed Greg in his 'I will NOT be ignored' voice, "there are items of interest here for your perusal, and I HIGHLY recommend you do so- Daisy, be so kind as to grow your hind legs... you too, Buck- I need centaurs for what we have here,"
Four centaurs, ears cocked forward, approached the front door and the LARGE case therein. Greg, wielding a short pry bar, started pulling boards off the 6'x3'x2' box... and handed Buck an oversized MINI-14 Ruger with a 'Roman Nosed' buttstock, along the lines of a 'Kentucky Rifle'. Buck examined and shouldered the piece, impressed with the balance and mass. Cindy was also handed one, as was Rowdy- both looked upon them with wonder before shouldering them, pointing them outside to see the sight picture. Daisy clopped up and, with eyes rather large, looked upon the piece before reaching out to handle it. The black composite stock seemed at odds with the classic lines- well, at least from the wrist back. From the wrist forward, it had the lines of an oversized M-14. Combined with the blue/black charcoal finish of the metal, it was an odd juxtaposition of styles.
"What caliber are these monsters?" asked Rowdy.
".50 BMG- and we have special ammo for them- Alpha Poppa with 972 grain bullets and Willy Peter with 910grains of projectile. The action will handle either without a hiccough,"
"Alpha Poppa?" asked Daisy, "And... what was it?...Willy Peter?"
"Armor Piercing, m'duck- and white phosphorus," commented Al, "the one will punch a hole clean through most tanks, the other is more commonly known as a 'tracer'... carries fire wherever it goes. Those are some buggeringly heavy bullets you have in stock there, Sarge- custom loads?"
"Standard fare for aircraft M-2s- meant to be fired from a fixed gun. Don Mayhew had conniptions when I gave the specifics, but he came through. None of these are a custom fit- I measured everybody here and did the best cross-section I could come up with... some dimensions I shot from the hip, as there is NO literature on the subject,"
"Yes, I can just see you writing about it for 'American Rifleman' or 'Guns and Ammo'," commented Buck as he hefted his piece, "You know, some of the other centaurs might have an interest in these... maybe not in THIS caliber, but something competent,"
"Yes," Greg thought out loud, "I wondered if that might not be the case,"
Doing it right...
Moderators: Bookworm, starkruzr, MrFireDragon, PrettyPrincess, Wapsi
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Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Doing it right...
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
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lake_wrangler
- Posts: 4300
- Joined: Sun Aug 05, 2012 8:16 am
- Location: Laval, Québec, Canada
Re: Doing it right...
You are all such a sad lot, with your equine puns... Trying to stir up trouble, are you?
Meanwhile, I can't wait for the mane event to occur. Will they put the gal up there, on the stage?
Since this is taking place in America, home of Western riding, I'm guessing they won't be posting anything on social media?
Of course, Al might just be torn between both countries' traditions, thereby putting him on the horn of a dilemma...
*drops a pair of cowboy boots and spurs into the pun vault*
Meanwhile, I can't wait for the mane event to occur. Will they put the gal up there, on the stage?
Since this is taking place in America, home of Western riding, I'm guessing they won't be posting anything on social media?
Of course, Al might just be torn between both countries' traditions, thereby putting him on the horn of a dilemma...
*drops a pair of cowboy boots and spurs into the pun vault*
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Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Doing it right...
Centaurs...lake_wrangler wrote:You are all such a sad lot, with your equine puns... Trying to stir up trouble, are you?
Meanwhile, I can't wait for the mane event to occur. Will they put the gal up there, on the stage?
Since this is taking place in America, home of Western riding, I'm guessing they won't be posting anything on social media?
Of course, Al might just be torn between both countries' traditions, thereby putting him on the horn of a dilemma...
*drops a pair of cowboy boots and spurs into the pun vault*
consider spurs as 'sex toys'
not only chase cars, but catch them and bring them home
have been known to break small trees to scratch their backs
require at least three barrels of beer to get drunk
can kick a field goal from three fields away
laugh at fashion models
prefer shoes that screw into their hooves rather than using nails- makes it easier to change shoes when coming inside
can destroy a cornfield in three minutes per acre (BURP!)
LOVE pickled carrots
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
Re: Doing it right...
Oversized Mini-14 . . . would that be a Maxi-14?
/deposits 30 rounds of .50 BMG APIT in the pun jar/
And tracers do not normally contain WP . . . it's a pellet of a mixture of chlorates or perchlorates and metal nitrates (usually barium or strontium) to color the flame. It's pretty similar to what's in a road flare. Red phosphorus is sometimes used, but tends to be a bit . . . unpredictable at rifle pressures. (I have some formulas somewhere . . .)
WP is sometimes used in incendiaries, but it's not popular even there, since it tends to leak and then spontaneously ignite. Not to mention the toxicity problems . . . WP is nasty stuff.
--FreeFlier
/deposits 30 rounds of .50 BMG APIT in the pun jar/
And tracers do not normally contain WP . . . it's a pellet of a mixture of chlorates or perchlorates and metal nitrates (usually barium or strontium) to color the flame. It's pretty similar to what's in a road flare. Red phosphorus is sometimes used, but tends to be a bit . . . unpredictable at rifle pressures. (I have some formulas somewhere . . .)
WP is sometimes used in incendiaries, but it's not popular even there, since it tends to leak and then spontaneously ignite. Not to mention the toxicity problems . . . WP is nasty stuff.
--FreeFlier
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Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
Yep, and deliberately nasty is what is on the menu. Talking about tracer is a good way to describe it to a civilian, as they wouldn't have been using tracer when they trained with the bolters. However, tracer they would have seen at least in the movies.FreeFlier wrote:
And tracers do not normally contain WP . . . it's a pellet of a mixture of chlorates or perchlorates and metal nitrates (usually barium or strontium) to color the flame. It's pretty similar to what's in a road flare. Red phosphorus is sometimes used, but tends to be a bit . . . unpredictable at rifle pressures. (I have some formulas somewhere . . .)
WP is sometimes used in incendiaries, but it's not popular even there, since it tends to leak and then spontaneously ignite. Not to mention the toxicity problems . . . WP is nasty stuff.
--FreeFlier
It's a case of dumbing down for the audience.
Also, loaded in the proper mix it's a great way to light up anything you want immoobilized and the crew inconvenienced.
Alan (speaking for Al)
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Doing it right...
FreeFlier wrote:Oversized Mini-14 . . . would that be a Maxi-14?
/deposits 30 rounds of .50 BMG APIT in the pun jar/
And tracers do not normally contain WP . . . it's a pellet of a mixture of chlorates or perchlorates and metal nitrates (usually barium or strontium) to color the flame. It's pretty similar to what's in a road flare. Red phosphorus is sometimes used, but tends to be a bit . . . unpredictable at rifle pressures. (I have some formulas somewhere . . .)
WP is sometimes used in incendiaries, but it's not popular even there, since it tends to leak and then spontaneously ignite. Not to mention the toxicity problems . . . WP is nasty stuff.
Aircraft tracers are typically WP- and are marked as such. Ground pounders will be issued the more stable formulary you describe... I've made them in .45 ACP, and it's a bitchy process involving a hydraulic press, a bullet-shaped cup and enough pressure to equal the breech pressure of the round.
The results are entertaining.
--FreeFlier
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
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DinkyInky
- Posts: 2382
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 9:38 am
- Location: Where there's more than Corn.
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
"Well, 'the Old Sarge' is as good as his word. I can feel the bell's presence guarding the land," Emerauld thought as she finished the final piece on Al's rifle, and made sure the ammo fit into the clip.
She remembered with a smile the laughter Glytch got out of putting brass magnets on J'bober, and watching him quickly get encumbered in casings as Safyr sent her servant out to collect the metals needed, which were given to Sarge, who turned them into new pieces for the rifle. Scribing runes on a single bullet set everything up, and just on time as promised, he arrived.
"The runes on the 'clip' are similar to how we Rangers scribe them for an 'endless quiver'. As long as he has arrows...er, bullets for it on his person, it will never need loading. After all the trouble I caused the Matriarch over this thing, at least I can make sure he doesn't get injured due to an empty quiver. While I cannot do this for everyone Sarge, my sister and I can put shield spells on you to keep damage at a minimum, so all need to see me before we leave here," she began, smoothly.
"I made the chain to match so you can switch out that other clip. Safyr says he has been practicing with Chryso...er, Rose a lot, so he's wearing himself out. It should give you time, as he is distracted, and as once it senses this near, it will shed the other one in favour of it. I thank you.
"These," she said, handing him two grey fleece lined jackets shot through with silver and gold embroidery in celtic knotwork, "are for you and your beloved to wear at the wedding. Also lightly armoured. Glytch laughed and called it, 'Elven Kevlar' when I gave him his, though I bet he forgets about it once he puts it into the pack. Your other jackets also have this.
They are removable, so you may line your dress jacket with it instead. If your lady is not wearing an outer dress jacket with her gown, I can perhaps make her an armoured bodice?" She was now flying through her speech, nerves jangling.
"I will inform Al of all of this before the hand...wedding, just in case you get too busy setting everything up. Thank you. You have my deepest gratitude. Should you need something other than gun smithing, I am at your service."
Like a frightened rabbit, she darted off into the trees, leaving Sarge holding...well, not a bag, but several items that needed sorting. He walked back to the manor wondering what had spooked her.
She remembered with a smile the laughter Glytch got out of putting brass magnets on J'bober, and watching him quickly get encumbered in casings as Safyr sent her servant out to collect the metals needed, which were given to Sarge, who turned them into new pieces for the rifle. Scribing runes on a single bullet set everything up, and just on time as promised, he arrived.
"The runes on the 'clip' are similar to how we Rangers scribe them for an 'endless quiver'. As long as he has arrows...er, bullets for it on his person, it will never need loading. After all the trouble I caused the Matriarch over this thing, at least I can make sure he doesn't get injured due to an empty quiver. While I cannot do this for everyone Sarge, my sister and I can put shield spells on you to keep damage at a minimum, so all need to see me before we leave here," she began, smoothly.
"I made the chain to match so you can switch out that other clip. Safyr says he has been practicing with Chryso...er, Rose a lot, so he's wearing himself out. It should give you time, as he is distracted, and as once it senses this near, it will shed the other one in favour of it. I thank you.
"These," she said, handing him two grey fleece lined jackets shot through with silver and gold embroidery in celtic knotwork, "are for you and your beloved to wear at the wedding. Also lightly armoured. Glytch laughed and called it, 'Elven Kevlar' when I gave him his, though I bet he forgets about it once he puts it into the pack. Your other jackets also have this.
They are removable, so you may line your dress jacket with it instead. If your lady is not wearing an outer dress jacket with her gown, I can perhaps make her an armoured bodice?" She was now flying through her speech, nerves jangling.
"I will inform Al of all of this before the hand...wedding, just in case you get too busy setting everything up. Thank you. You have my deepest gratitude. Should you need something other than gun smithing, I am at your service."
Like a frightened rabbit, she darted off into the trees, leaving Sarge holding...well, not a bag, but several items that needed sorting. He walked back to the manor wondering what had spooked her.
Yanno how some people have Angels/Devils for a conscience? I have a Dark Elf ShadowKnight and a Half Elf Ranger for mine. The really bad part is when they agree on something.
Aphyon chu kissa whol l'jaed.
--Safyr Drathmir
Aphyon chu kissa whol l'jaed.
--Safyr Drathmir
Re: Doing it right...
Oh I certainly hope his time with Daisy doesn't play out like Bond's with Tracy!jwhouk wrote:And, I should point out, that if we are indeed carrying the Bond theme to its extreme, Al's feelings towards Daisy could end up being like Mr. Lazenby's version of 007.
"We have all the time in the world..."
"Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful."
And see that life is beautiful."
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GlytchMeister
- Posts: 3733
- Joined: Wed Oct 16, 2013 2:52 pm
- Location: Central Illinois
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
Just wanted to put this out here... I woke up this morning and had 8 PM's waiting in my inbox, and Dinky's post waiting here.
I've been able to keep up so far, but this was about as far behind as I've gotten since Sarge first pulled me in and I had to read everything up to that point.
And now my head is filled to bursting with stuff to write. Gah!
I've been able to keep up so far, but this was about as far behind as I've gotten since Sarge first pulled me in and I had to read everything up to that point.
And now my head is filled to bursting with stuff to write. Gah!
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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GlytchMeister
- Posts: 3733
- Joined: Wed Oct 16, 2013 2:52 pm
- Location: Central Illinois
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
Glytch and Brandi poured over the data that was collected on the way back to the manor. Glytch immediately found his error - it was indeed a misplaced decimal point... And it just so happened to be in the middle of a calculation chock full of multiplication very close to the beginning of the overall set of equations and calculations he made. The result was the capacitance of the device was several million times stronger than what the coils or any of the power cables were designed to handle. Even at half power, everything nearly instantly vaporized into a highly conductive metallic gas. However, the MIB equipment was sensitive and fast enough to gather data on the actual Directional ElectroMagnetic Pulse that was produced before everything went up in smoke... And the data looked very promising at first glance. In the nanoseconds before the coils overheated, they managed to produce an EMP, which was successfully directed by the Faraday disks, which was modulated and shaped just right to provide what appeared to be a safe zone.
Glytch was in the middle of an optimization when Billens informed the two they had made it back to the Alexander estate in time for lunch. Huffing impatiently, he quickly finished the calculation and packed everything up.
I'll have to come back to this later... Glytch promised himself he would finish his calculations after the wedding as he made his way to the main dining room. Brandi went off to talk with the other Golems, Phix, Neil, and John. They were all wearing serious faces... Glytch made a beeline for where Atsali and Castela sat. Castela was happily dunking a grilled cheese into a bowl of tomato basil soup, while Atsali seemed too distracted to understand she even had food in front of her.
Hmm... That's not the good kind of distracted, I think...
Glytch sat down, beaming a smile at Atsali, who started and shook her head slightly, as if to shake some cobwebs loose. "Huh? Oh! Hi! Um... How long were you sitting there?"
"I just sat down, don't worry." Glytch smirked. "What's up?"
"Oh... I... I guess I was just stuck thinking of 'what ifs'." Atsali poked a spoon at her soup.
"No time for 'what ifs'... I like to focus on "how abouts'." Glytch raised an eyebrow at Atsali, goading her on.
"Ok... Like what?" She smiled a little.
"Oh... Like, 'how about I nuke your soup for you and you tell me what I missed while I was playing with a fundamental force of nature?" He waited for Atsali to push her bowl toward him before he grabbed it. "I'm glad you agree!"
"I forgot that was today! How'd it go?"
"We got some good data and I cost MIB lots of money. It blew up rather spectacularly. It's funny how a misplaced dot can turn a DEMP into something Tesla would have thought of in a fevered dream."
"So... It was OK?" Atsali half-smiled, unsure about Glytch's expression as he spoke.
"Yeah, yeah, of course! Brandi was more than happy to pay Buck back for everything I vaporized in exchange for a copy of all of my stuff. It WORKED! Well, I mean, it blew up and created a localized lightning storm a few nanoseconds after it worked, but IT WORKED!"
*Ding!*
Using his sleeves as oven mitts, Glytch returned Atsali's now steaming soup. She grabbed a half-eaten slice of grilled cheese and dunked it. "Good! I guess it's kind of bad that it was all destroyed, but at least you have some good info!"
"...huh." Glytch tilted his head, puzzled.
"What?"
"I... Wasn't prepared for you to not be surprised by the lightning storm bit."
"Psh... Welcome to the paranormal world, Glytch. Normal is weird." Atsali chuckled before taking a bite. "Just wait till you have to work with Lanthian stuff."
"I think I like it that way... And I'd rather not poke magitech with a stick... If the golems are anything to go by, that's like kicking a nuke. Bad. Idea." Glytch went to the buffet table and ladled some soup and grabbed a grilled cheese for himself. I'll have turkey leftovers for dinner... "Anyway... What did I miss while I was out?"
Atsali gulped down a bite before speaking. "Well... A bunch of the adults had a meeting. I think Safyr found out about something new. John came out smiling kinda weird. I dunno what that was all about. Oh, Daddy gave Al a fancy James Bond car, and said he was gonna be his future stepdad. I think Al was a bit freaked out."
"Atsali?" Castela suddenly piped up, no longer fascinated by the shapes the basil and breadcrumbs were making in her soup.
"What is it, Pickle?"
"Does that, does that mean Al will-will be our... Step, uh, step-gram-pa?"
"I think so..." Atsali smiled.
"Do-do they make each other happy, like mommy an' an' an' daddy do?"
"It certainly seems that way... And with all that's going on... I'm not sure why he's waiting. It's... Hmm." Glytch cut himself off when he noticed Castela was listening intently.
"Yeah..." Atsali looked down at her soup.
whoops. "Wait just a second... Did you say a fancy James Bond car?"
"Oh, yeah! Wow, daddy had this thing all customized and had a bunch of gadgets put in... I don't remember what it was or what daddy put in it, but it sounded really neat!"
"Oh, really? I wonder if I can't get a look at it..." Glytch broke into a wide, mischievous grin again.
Atsali's eyes widened. "Uh oh... I think I know that kind of smile..."
"Don't worry... I won't try and take it. That is, unless I can't resist."
"That... Doesn't really make me feel very confident. Oh! Another thing happened this morning... I heard Daddy talking to mom while they made breakfast at the guest house - I think Daddy was getting... Nervous about you, for some reason, but Al told him you were ok?"
"Oh, so that's what happened?" Glytch laughed.
"Huh?"
"I'm pretty sure Buck... Uh, your dad, thought I was going to make a move on you... So he got understandably defensive. You know how dads are about their daughters."
"...No?" Atsali furrowed her brow.
"Uh-huh. Ok. How do I put this..." Glytch had to think for a moment before he managed to translate the concept into a sentence Castela probably wouldn't be able to figure out. "When a man has a son, he only has to worry about one... boy. When he has a daughter, he has to worry about all of the boys."
Atsali blinked a few times. Glytch could almost see the gears turning in her head. "...OH! Oh, wow... No... I have a girlfriend... Yikes. Ok, I didn't really think of it that way before... I guess daddy has it a little hard, since he has to worry about boys AND girls with me."
"Well... I guess I owe Al a 'thank you.'" Glytch smirked. "That's one less stressful conversation in my life."
"Yeah... Probably."
Glytch looked around and found Al at his usual spot with Daisy and decided to wait for the old Brit to run out of tea... Then he would ask to speak with him without having to get Daisy involved in the conversation. That would probably just make things awkward. Or just more awkward.
Al stood, gave Daisy a quick kiss, and (just as expected) began to make his way to the tea... Glytch walked swiftly, intercepting him before he got there, and walked alongside him, speaking in a low voice. "So I heard you and Buck have been talking, huh?"
Al's eyes widened for an instant before he collected himself. "Well, yes, I suppose a gift that wonderful would naturally be known to all immediately."
Glytch chuckled as Al poured some tea. "That too... But there was an earlier conversation, wasn't there?"
Al looked up at Glytch sharply, worry plain on his face.
"Calm down, man, I was just going to say thanks... And to repay the kindness." Glytch grinned at the old Brit.
"...How?" Al had to fight to not laugh at the notion of the young man talking down Rowdy... The effort was made easier by the sudden realization that Rowdy might need to be talked down, and that he himself had no idea.
"You have here an opportunity to love and to live. Daisy is a beautiful woman, and you obviously love each other... And I've noticed you aren't limping like you were a while ago... That was the limp of a chronic pain, not a recent injury. That kind of thing doesn't just go away. How far off the mark would I be if I guessed Neil had a hand in that?"
Al stared at the hooded youth silently.
"That's what I thought... Not far at all. So you've found someone to love, and you've been given extra time with which to love her, correct?"
"Yes, I supp-"
"Wrong. We have no guarantee of a tomorrow... Nobody does, but especially not us, not now. Nodaki might come at us tonight with a stolen Lanthian nuke or something, I don't know. You don't have time to wait around for the right moment. There is no opportune moment... Which makes every moment the opportune one."
"But... It's not right to propose in a crisis! We are at war, boy!"
"It is because we are at war that one should live and love as though it is our last chance... Because it might very well BE our last chance." Glytch pulled down his hood to let Al see his eyes... Drawing startled glances from many around the room. "Opportunities missed hurt the most, Al." He whispered before replacing his hood.
Glytch was in the middle of an optimization when Billens informed the two they had made it back to the Alexander estate in time for lunch. Huffing impatiently, he quickly finished the calculation and packed everything up.
I'll have to come back to this later... Glytch promised himself he would finish his calculations after the wedding as he made his way to the main dining room. Brandi went off to talk with the other Golems, Phix, Neil, and John. They were all wearing serious faces... Glytch made a beeline for where Atsali and Castela sat. Castela was happily dunking a grilled cheese into a bowl of tomato basil soup, while Atsali seemed too distracted to understand she even had food in front of her.
Hmm... That's not the good kind of distracted, I think...
Glytch sat down, beaming a smile at Atsali, who started and shook her head slightly, as if to shake some cobwebs loose. "Huh? Oh! Hi! Um... How long were you sitting there?"
"I just sat down, don't worry." Glytch smirked. "What's up?"
"Oh... I... I guess I was just stuck thinking of 'what ifs'." Atsali poked a spoon at her soup.
"No time for 'what ifs'... I like to focus on "how abouts'." Glytch raised an eyebrow at Atsali, goading her on.
"Ok... Like what?" She smiled a little.
"Oh... Like, 'how about I nuke your soup for you and you tell me what I missed while I was playing with a fundamental force of nature?" He waited for Atsali to push her bowl toward him before he grabbed it. "I'm glad you agree!"
"I forgot that was today! How'd it go?"
"We got some good data and I cost MIB lots of money. It blew up rather spectacularly. It's funny how a misplaced dot can turn a DEMP into something Tesla would have thought of in a fevered dream."
"So... It was OK?" Atsali half-smiled, unsure about Glytch's expression as he spoke.
"Yeah, yeah, of course! Brandi was more than happy to pay Buck back for everything I vaporized in exchange for a copy of all of my stuff. It WORKED! Well, I mean, it blew up and created a localized lightning storm a few nanoseconds after it worked, but IT WORKED!"
*Ding!*
Using his sleeves as oven mitts, Glytch returned Atsali's now steaming soup. She grabbed a half-eaten slice of grilled cheese and dunked it. "Good! I guess it's kind of bad that it was all destroyed, but at least you have some good info!"
"...huh." Glytch tilted his head, puzzled.
"What?"
"I... Wasn't prepared for you to not be surprised by the lightning storm bit."
"Psh... Welcome to the paranormal world, Glytch. Normal is weird." Atsali chuckled before taking a bite. "Just wait till you have to work with Lanthian stuff."
"I think I like it that way... And I'd rather not poke magitech with a stick... If the golems are anything to go by, that's like kicking a nuke. Bad. Idea." Glytch went to the buffet table and ladled some soup and grabbed a grilled cheese for himself. I'll have turkey leftovers for dinner... "Anyway... What did I miss while I was out?"
Atsali gulped down a bite before speaking. "Well... A bunch of the adults had a meeting. I think Safyr found out about something new. John came out smiling kinda weird. I dunno what that was all about. Oh, Daddy gave Al a fancy James Bond car, and said he was gonna be his future stepdad. I think Al was a bit freaked out."
"Atsali?" Castela suddenly piped up, no longer fascinated by the shapes the basil and breadcrumbs were making in her soup.
"What is it, Pickle?"
"Does that, does that mean Al will-will be our... Step, uh, step-gram-pa?"
"I think so..." Atsali smiled.
"Do-do they make each other happy, like mommy an' an' an' daddy do?"
"It certainly seems that way... And with all that's going on... I'm not sure why he's waiting. It's... Hmm." Glytch cut himself off when he noticed Castela was listening intently.
"Yeah..." Atsali looked down at her soup.
whoops. "Wait just a second... Did you say a fancy James Bond car?"
"Oh, yeah! Wow, daddy had this thing all customized and had a bunch of gadgets put in... I don't remember what it was or what daddy put in it, but it sounded really neat!"
"Oh, really? I wonder if I can't get a look at it..." Glytch broke into a wide, mischievous grin again.
Atsali's eyes widened. "Uh oh... I think I know that kind of smile..."
"Don't worry... I won't try and take it. That is, unless I can't resist."
"That... Doesn't really make me feel very confident. Oh! Another thing happened this morning... I heard Daddy talking to mom while they made breakfast at the guest house - I think Daddy was getting... Nervous about you, for some reason, but Al told him you were ok?"
"Oh, so that's what happened?" Glytch laughed.
"Huh?"
"I'm pretty sure Buck... Uh, your dad, thought I was going to make a move on you... So he got understandably defensive. You know how dads are about their daughters."
"...No?" Atsali furrowed her brow.
"Uh-huh. Ok. How do I put this..." Glytch had to think for a moment before he managed to translate the concept into a sentence Castela probably wouldn't be able to figure out. "When a man has a son, he only has to worry about one... boy. When he has a daughter, he has to worry about all of the boys."
Atsali blinked a few times. Glytch could almost see the gears turning in her head. "...OH! Oh, wow... No... I have a girlfriend... Yikes. Ok, I didn't really think of it that way before... I guess daddy has it a little hard, since he has to worry about boys AND girls with me."
"Well... I guess I owe Al a 'thank you.'" Glytch smirked. "That's one less stressful conversation in my life."
"Yeah... Probably."
Glytch looked around and found Al at his usual spot with Daisy and decided to wait for the old Brit to run out of tea... Then he would ask to speak with him without having to get Daisy involved in the conversation. That would probably just make things awkward. Or just more awkward.
Al stood, gave Daisy a quick kiss, and (just as expected) began to make his way to the tea... Glytch walked swiftly, intercepting him before he got there, and walked alongside him, speaking in a low voice. "So I heard you and Buck have been talking, huh?"
Al's eyes widened for an instant before he collected himself. "Well, yes, I suppose a gift that wonderful would naturally be known to all immediately."
Glytch chuckled as Al poured some tea. "That too... But there was an earlier conversation, wasn't there?"
Al looked up at Glytch sharply, worry plain on his face.
"Calm down, man, I was just going to say thanks... And to repay the kindness." Glytch grinned at the old Brit.
"...How?" Al had to fight to not laugh at the notion of the young man talking down Rowdy... The effort was made easier by the sudden realization that Rowdy might need to be talked down, and that he himself had no idea.
"You have here an opportunity to love and to live. Daisy is a beautiful woman, and you obviously love each other... And I've noticed you aren't limping like you were a while ago... That was the limp of a chronic pain, not a recent injury. That kind of thing doesn't just go away. How far off the mark would I be if I guessed Neil had a hand in that?"
Al stared at the hooded youth silently.
"That's what I thought... Not far at all. So you've found someone to love, and you've been given extra time with which to love her, correct?"
"Yes, I supp-"
"Wrong. We have no guarantee of a tomorrow... Nobody does, but especially not us, not now. Nodaki might come at us tonight with a stolen Lanthian nuke or something, I don't know. You don't have time to wait around for the right moment. There is no opportune moment... Which makes every moment the opportune one."
"But... It's not right to propose in a crisis! We are at war, boy!"
"It is because we are at war that one should live and love as though it is our last chance... Because it might very well BE our last chance." Glytch pulled down his hood to let Al see his eyes... Drawing startled glances from many around the room. "Opportunities missed hurt the most, Al." He whispered before replacing his hood.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
-
jwhouk
- Posts: 6053
- Joined: Wed Aug 01, 2012 7:58 am
- Location: The Valley of the Sun, Arizona
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
---
"Oh, HELL no, I don't want him anywhere NEAR the Aston Martin," Buck said in no uncertain terms to Edward.
"Very good, sir, but where do we put it so that it won't self-destruct when he touches it?"
"Lemme go back through the manual and find out..."
"Oh, HELL no, I don't want him anywhere NEAR the Aston Martin," Buck said in no uncertain terms to Edward.
"Very good, sir, but where do we put it so that it won't self-destruct when he touches it?"
"Lemme go back through the manual and find out..."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Doing it right...
Al, I believe the boy just educated his elders...
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
-
GlytchMeister
- Posts: 3733
- Joined: Wed Oct 16, 2013 2:52 pm
- Location: Central Illinois
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
jwhouk wrote:---
"Oh, HELL no, I don't want him anywhere NEAR the Aston Martin," Buck said in no uncertain terms to Edward.
"Very good, sir, but where do we put it so that it won't self-destruct when he touches it?"
"Lemme go back through the manual and find out..."
*spittakes*
*haaack, cough, splutter*
Ugh...
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
-
GlytchMeister
- Posts: 3733
- Joined: Wed Oct 16, 2013 2:52 pm
- Location: Central Illinois
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
Sgt. Howard wrote:Al, I believe the boy just educated his elders...
...is that a good thing or a bad thing?
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Doing it right...
Every now and then, us old pharts actually learn from the younger generation- it doesn't happen often, mind you- but happen it does. Neither a good nor bad thing in itself, it is beneficial when the old one learns, humiliating when his/her ego gets in the way.GlytchMeister wrote:Sgt. Howard wrote:Al, I believe the boy just educated his elders...
...is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
-
Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
A dilemma. Quite a dilemma, actually.
Al stared down into his tea mug and ruminated on what he'd just been told, completely oblivious to the wedding plans being poured into his ear by his dam. Details of flowers, linens and table settings flowed by and over him as he stared into his slowly congealing beverage.
"Are you listening?"
Oh, dear. He'd been copped.
"No, love, can't say as I was. I'd rather plan 10 battles than one wedding...it's less stressful. Would you mind if I went and practiced for a while?"
"No. Please do. I know this isn't exactly your cup of tea, so to speak. Go ahead, but wear your coat and make sure you wear your hat - it's not all that warm out there."
"I won't be long, love. I just need to stretch my legs and get a bit of air."
He got up, bussed her affectionately if a bit absently, and headed off toward their room and his weapons case.
She looked after him, a bit concerned. He'd been on top of the world till he and Glytch talked - soince then he'd been introspective. One thing she'd learned here with him is that he didn't wear his emotions on his sleeve, but if you looked closely you could tell. Something was troubling him - but what?
-------------------------------
At the range again, Al put on a pair of hearing protectors over his set of Marshall earbuds. Distractions were in order, so time for some shooting practice.
The music on his phone was a distraction – he’d had Glytch put an hour or so of the music he liked best on his phone. Al, while a hardbitten sergeant major when working, had a serious taste for music and had a set of songs that moved his heart. These songs could stop him in his tracks, forcing him to place his full attention on them. This was why they were now on his phone – if he could concentrate through them he could concentrate through anything.
He thumbed on the music player, thumbed off the safety and set to work to the opening piano chords of Bob Seger’s “Roll Me Away”. He then thumbed off the safety, chambered a round, and began to shoot at the target at 200 meters.
Miss.
Miss.
Hit.
Miss.
Hit
Reload.
Hit.
Miss.
As Bob Seger faded to the strains of Journey’s “Remember Me” he continued his training. The music changed, and the hits became more frequent, the misses fading. As he worked Al entered what could almost be considered a Zen state, with the music and the power combining to allow the beauty of one to enhance the concentration needed for the other. He found himself being able to concentrate and still apply what felt to be his full attention to the music..
Some things still jarred the state and caused Al to fail. With the dark strains of Peter Murphy’s “A Strange Kind Of Love” ringing in his ears Al faltered, and dropped the rifle from firing position to rest.
The lyrics spoke too deeply to what he felt right now, and where he wanted to be instead of here. Even an old warrior can regret war and its preparations.
This is no terror ground
Or place for the rage
No broken hearts, whitewashed lies.
Just a taste for the truth
Perfect taste, choice and meaning
A look into your eyes.
Bitterly, Al thumbed the safety back off (setting it is automatic) and began his task again. His next few shots were worthless.
Al stared down into his tea mug and ruminated on what he'd just been told, completely oblivious to the wedding plans being poured into his ear by his dam. Details of flowers, linens and table settings flowed by and over him as he stared into his slowly congealing beverage.
"Are you listening?"
Oh, dear. He'd been copped.
"No, love, can't say as I was. I'd rather plan 10 battles than one wedding...it's less stressful. Would you mind if I went and practiced for a while?"
"No. Please do. I know this isn't exactly your cup of tea, so to speak. Go ahead, but wear your coat and make sure you wear your hat - it's not all that warm out there."
"I won't be long, love. I just need to stretch my legs and get a bit of air."
He got up, bussed her affectionately if a bit absently, and headed off toward their room and his weapons case.
She looked after him, a bit concerned. He'd been on top of the world till he and Glytch talked - soince then he'd been introspective. One thing she'd learned here with him is that he didn't wear his emotions on his sleeve, but if you looked closely you could tell. Something was troubling him - but what?
-------------------------------
At the range again, Al put on a pair of hearing protectors over his set of Marshall earbuds. Distractions were in order, so time for some shooting practice.
The music on his phone was a distraction – he’d had Glytch put an hour or so of the music he liked best on his phone. Al, while a hardbitten sergeant major when working, had a serious taste for music and had a set of songs that moved his heart. These songs could stop him in his tracks, forcing him to place his full attention on them. This was why they were now on his phone – if he could concentrate through them he could concentrate through anything.
He thumbed on the music player, thumbed off the safety and set to work to the opening piano chords of Bob Seger’s “Roll Me Away”. He then thumbed off the safety, chambered a round, and began to shoot at the target at 200 meters.
Miss.
Miss.
Hit.
Miss.
Hit
Reload.
Hit.
Miss.
As Bob Seger faded to the strains of Journey’s “Remember Me” he continued his training. The music changed, and the hits became more frequent, the misses fading. As he worked Al entered what could almost be considered a Zen state, with the music and the power combining to allow the beauty of one to enhance the concentration needed for the other. He found himself being able to concentrate and still apply what felt to be his full attention to the music..
Some things still jarred the state and caused Al to fail. With the dark strains of Peter Murphy’s “A Strange Kind Of Love” ringing in his ears Al faltered, and dropped the rifle from firing position to rest.
The lyrics spoke too deeply to what he felt right now, and where he wanted to be instead of here. Even an old warrior can regret war and its preparations.
This is no terror ground
Or place for the rage
No broken hearts, whitewashed lies.
Just a taste for the truth
Perfect taste, choice and meaning
A look into your eyes.
Bitterly, Al thumbed the safety back off (setting it is automatic) and began his task again. His next few shots were worthless.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
-
Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
{DInky and those elves.....Goddess bless them all. She helped much with this..her and her wonderful companions}
Hit.
Hit.
Hit
The trilling of his phone’s ringer playing the “General’s March” broke Al out of his reverie. Pulling out his phone and putting down Cryso, he answered “What is it you wish, my captain?”
“Can you come in? Need to have a two-minute discussion with you on something. I know you’re having fun out there, but I’d like to settle this.”
Al grumbled mildly, shoulder slung Chryso and headed back for the house after disconnecting.
In Neil’s staff room, he and Greg shared a chuckle. “He’ll be here in a couple of minutes. He’ll stop by his room and leave the rifle there – he doesn’t carry it in the house and not in here without a reason. That gives you five minutes to add the parts that Emerauld gave you – no more. I hope you don’t have a fight with it.”
“I hope so too – that damn thing hates me. Eme said that it should be happy to accept the new parts, though – at least she thought so.”
“Good. Make the time count – I had to make something up on the deployment…and he’s going to dispose of it quick.”
Al opened the door of his room, and jacking the remaining rounds out of the clip put them back into a bandolier pouch, laid the rifle on the case, and stepped out. Thirty seconds later Greg slid quietly in through the door and was relieved to find the much-modified Lee-Enfield laying on top of the case.
He walked over and said in a low voice, “I know you don’t like me, but Eme sent me with something for you.” He took the clip from his pocket, and reached down to unlock the clip on the rifle.
Before he even got near the latch, the clip popped off and lay on the top of the case.
“Well, that was simple!” Greg said, and undid the chain holding the clip to the stock. Substituting the new one was a matter of a moment, and loading the rune-inscribed round a matter of a moment more.
With that, he slipped quietly out, taking the old clip with him.
A few minutes later Al returned, picked up a full bandolier of ammunition and Chryso and headed back out to his practice.
Slinging a two-inch strip of paper at 200 yards, Al walked back to the firing line and prepared to train. He’d worked out that a full 10 rounds could cut the paper in half if he placed his shots properly, so had taken to this as opposed to bulls-eye targets.
Filling the clip with the full two strippers, Al took his place on the firing line.
CRACK
Click-click
CRACK
Click-click
Again.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
CRACK.
Eleven?
Mystified, Al thought that he must have overloaded the clip. Sometimes you can get them to do that. He was getting damned sloppy, leaving a round in a weapon when he thought he’d cleared it.
Kneeling on the cold ground over a shooter’s cloth, Al worked the bolt to clear the last fired round – and again, to ensure the clip was empty though there was no way there could possibly be anything in it.
A round popped out.
Another.
Another.
Yet another.
One more.
Sitting on the ground Al took his tactical light from his pocket and shone it into the breech. The clip was full!
“EMERAAAAULDDDDD!”
Securing the weapon and ammunition in a locker put there for the purpose, Al stalked off toward the willow – preparing to have an intimate tete-a-tete with a certain playful elf.
Hit.
Hit.
Hit
The trilling of his phone’s ringer playing the “General’s March” broke Al out of his reverie. Pulling out his phone and putting down Cryso, he answered “What is it you wish, my captain?”
“Can you come in? Need to have a two-minute discussion with you on something. I know you’re having fun out there, but I’d like to settle this.”
Al grumbled mildly, shoulder slung Chryso and headed back for the house after disconnecting.
In Neil’s staff room, he and Greg shared a chuckle. “He’ll be here in a couple of minutes. He’ll stop by his room and leave the rifle there – he doesn’t carry it in the house and not in here without a reason. That gives you five minutes to add the parts that Emerauld gave you – no more. I hope you don’t have a fight with it.”
“I hope so too – that damn thing hates me. Eme said that it should be happy to accept the new parts, though – at least she thought so.”
“Good. Make the time count – I had to make something up on the deployment…and he’s going to dispose of it quick.”
Al opened the door of his room, and jacking the remaining rounds out of the clip put them back into a bandolier pouch, laid the rifle on the case, and stepped out. Thirty seconds later Greg slid quietly in through the door and was relieved to find the much-modified Lee-Enfield laying on top of the case.
He walked over and said in a low voice, “I know you don’t like me, but Eme sent me with something for you.” He took the clip from his pocket, and reached down to unlock the clip on the rifle.
Before he even got near the latch, the clip popped off and lay on the top of the case.
“Well, that was simple!” Greg said, and undid the chain holding the clip to the stock. Substituting the new one was a matter of a moment, and loading the rune-inscribed round a matter of a moment more.
With that, he slipped quietly out, taking the old clip with him.
A few minutes later Al returned, picked up a full bandolier of ammunition and Chryso and headed back out to his practice.
Slinging a two-inch strip of paper at 200 yards, Al walked back to the firing line and prepared to train. He’d worked out that a full 10 rounds could cut the paper in half if he placed his shots properly, so had taken to this as opposed to bulls-eye targets.
Filling the clip with the full two strippers, Al took his place on the firing line.
CRACK
Click-click
CRACK
Click-click
Again.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
CRACK.
Eleven?
Mystified, Al thought that he must have overloaded the clip. Sometimes you can get them to do that. He was getting damned sloppy, leaving a round in a weapon when he thought he’d cleared it.
Kneeling on the cold ground over a shooter’s cloth, Al worked the bolt to clear the last fired round – and again, to ensure the clip was empty though there was no way there could possibly be anything in it.
A round popped out.
Another.
Another.
Yet another.
One more.
Sitting on the ground Al took his tactical light from his pocket and shone it into the breech. The clip was full!
“EMERAAAAULDDDDD!”
Securing the weapon and ammunition in a locker put there for the purpose, Al stalked off toward the willow – preparing to have an intimate tete-a-tete with a certain playful elf.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
Re: Doing it right...
Heh heh heh... Welcome to my world.GlytchMeister wrote:Just wanted to put this out here... I woke up this morning and had 8 PM's waiting in my inbox, and Dinky's post waiting here.
I've been able to keep up so far, but this was about as far behind as I've gotten since Sarge first pulled me in and I had to read everything up to that point.
And now my head is filled to bursting with stuff to write. Gah!
Stan's been on the Bus, so to speak, other than gratuitous cameos Thx to our co-authors.
I'll see what I can do about that...
(Its not that he hasn't been active, it's just that he hasn't been telling anyone what hes been up to, and he thinks they don't know.)
PS- Apropos of absolutely nothing whatsoever I'm looking to scrounge up 'Skyfall' and watch it again...
-
Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Doing it right...
I'm just glad he ran that networking cable out the window and down instead of down the stairs...I'd have killed my sorry arse on that thing. Easiest way to get it down from the tower, anyway.TazManiac wrote: (Its not that he hasn't been active, it's just that he hasn't been telling anyone what hes been up to, and he thinks they don't know.)
PS- Apropos of absolutely nothing whatsoever I'm looking to scrounge up 'Skyfall' and watch it again...
Al.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Doing it right...
Ursine Gadenyuva approached her daughter's bedroom and knocked-there was no immediate response. She knocked again, only to hear a muffled "I'm not hungry,"
Pushing the door open, she saw Nadette with her arms wrapped around a pillow and a sullen look across her face. Nadette didn't even look up at her Mother, but continued to stare blankly at the wall.
"Young Lady, the world will not stop spinning on your account- at some point, you have to snap out of this funk and remember that you ARE among the living,"
"It's not fair, Momma," she let out in a defeated voice, "she's doing it to herself,"
"She doing WHAT to herself?" Ursine picked up with a touch of alarm.
"She's... she's taking a tea that... that... "
"THAT DOES WHAT?!?"
Nadette gave that look of exasperation that every teen masters at 12- "It... kills her libido... "
Ursine took a shocked moment to absorb what she had just been told. Trying not to laugh, she asked, "Why... why would she do that?"
"She's afraid of her hormonal response," Nadette intoned, "I'm not sure I know why,"
"I... see... yet I don't see... she is a siren, right?"
"Siren/incubus- she JUST developed a tail... and it embarrasses her to no end,"
"And... she is controlling this... with a ... tea...? Where did she get this... tea?"
"Her Mother makes it- it's all herbal an' stuff, an' it makes her... unresponsive... ALL BECAUSE IT SCARES HER!!!"
Ursine had never heard of such a thing. A siren/incubus trying to lock down her sexuality. Next, sphinxes will go vegan and Nicodemus will eat pork.
"Her Mother is making her take this?" she asked.
"NO! SHE IS INSISTING ON TAKING IT HERSELF!" Nadette wailed, then collapsed into tears, "... and... and she's acting like ... ME wanting her to enjoy my... my... kisses... IS WRONG!!! DIRTY!!! I AM NOT DIRTY!!!" she screamed, loud enough for her Father Bernard (downstairs) to drop the ladle he had been pilfering the stew with.
Pushing the door open, she saw Nadette with her arms wrapped around a pillow and a sullen look across her face. Nadette didn't even look up at her Mother, but continued to stare blankly at the wall.
"Young Lady, the world will not stop spinning on your account- at some point, you have to snap out of this funk and remember that you ARE among the living,"
"It's not fair, Momma," she let out in a defeated voice, "she's doing it to herself,"
"She doing WHAT to herself?" Ursine picked up with a touch of alarm.
"She's... she's taking a tea that... that... "
"THAT DOES WHAT?!?"
Nadette gave that look of exasperation that every teen masters at 12- "It... kills her libido... "
Ursine took a shocked moment to absorb what she had just been told. Trying not to laugh, she asked, "Why... why would she do that?"
"She's afraid of her hormonal response," Nadette intoned, "I'm not sure I know why,"
"I... see... yet I don't see... she is a siren, right?"
"Siren/incubus- she JUST developed a tail... and it embarrasses her to no end,"
"And... she is controlling this... with a ... tea...? Where did she get this... tea?"
"Her Mother makes it- it's all herbal an' stuff, an' it makes her... unresponsive... ALL BECAUSE IT SCARES HER!!!"
Ursine had never heard of such a thing. A siren/incubus trying to lock down her sexuality. Next, sphinxes will go vegan and Nicodemus will eat pork.
"Her Mother is making her take this?" she asked.
"NO! SHE IS INSISTING ON TAKING IT HERSELF!" Nadette wailed, then collapsed into tears, "... and... and she's acting like ... ME wanting her to enjoy my... my... kisses... IS WRONG!!! DIRTY!!! I AM NOT DIRTY!!!" she screamed, loud enough for her Father Bernard (downstairs) to drop the ladle he had been pilfering the stew with.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.