Git 'er Done (open)

Where everyone arrives. Arrival is not team-separate, and we trust you'll be able to figure out which you're on. We send supplies plus purchases every month, on the first. The original dock was destroyed, and the current one is still only half-finished, so you're dropped off a bit of a ways up the bank where its safer to land. Just don't get lost.
The team Warehouses also stand out near here, or at least used to. RED's is the only one still standing, while BLUs seems to have been burned to the ground. Or maybe exploded. Or both.

Git 'er Done (open)

Postby Marshall Ames » Wed Feb 27, 2013 1:45 pm

[Backdated to whenevernthehell the dock was repaired...]

Giving the crowbar a last hard yank, Ames shut his eyes against the splash as the heavy, broken dock board hit the water beside him. A corner of the rough wood scraped his forearm on the way down, but not enough to break skin. He kept his eyes shut for a moment, feeling the coolness of the water running down over his closed eyelids, and back through his oddly stiff, brush-cut hair.

Grinning, the Soldier hung the crowbar back on his equipment belt, and waded up into the brown shallows. Dripping, he picked up the broken board two-handed, and threw it clear of the water, onto a growing pile of waterlogged scrap lumber. He paused to scratch an itch at his side, found a leach clinging there, and chucked IT into the woodpile as well. It landed with a tiny but decisive-sounding splat.

Ames looked back over his shoulder across the water. The hot afternoon sun was starting to shade down into golden-orange, and on the far bank, A few alligators could be seen sunning themselves and watching him in return. Their number hadn't changed.
"Smart boys..." the Soldier murmured approvingly, and waded out to get another damaged board.
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Re: Git 'er Done (open)

Postby Henry Adams » Wed Feb 27, 2013 4:08 pm

It was shocking how quickly priorities built up, but Henry was glad that they had finally managed to get to the docks. He was making himself busy, tearing boards down with Ames while he waited for the new wood and sheet metal to be delivered. Clambering along the sides of the dock frame, he dislodged the smaller portions with his legs, kicking them loose when he could, and prying them off when they proved stubborn.

Monkey Paw design: Completely worth the effort.

He had his metallic hand wrapped firmly around a quarter of a board that was clinging stubbornly to a sunken beam, and was getting ready to give it a good yank when Ames' beam clattered into the pile. Tumbling hard into the water, the beam arced through the air, and landed squarely between the eyes of a particularly brave member of the scaly band who had decided to lurk a little closer in the water itself. Standing up, and plucking a very confused leach from above his eye, Henry gazed over at the upturned beast, wondering mildly if it was dead or just stunned.

"Well shit, there goes the ecosystem. I don't think I'm winning any points with the wildlife lately."
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Re: Git 'er Done (open)

Postby Marshall Ames » Wed Feb 27, 2013 6:10 pm

"Ecosystem hell," Ames laughed, "-those big, ugly suckers are IN it, same as you an' me." He looked speculatively at the downed gator for a moment, gauging it's drift away from the others, and the far shore. No, he decided, not worth it. The other 'gators, so far, seemed to be of the same opinion.

The river-bottom mud sucked at the Soldier's boots as he moved back out along the row of heavy wooden pilings, each step astronaut-slow against the weight of the slow-moving river. Now and then he'd feel something. The shape of a rock, or was it a branch? Some kind of a snag against the materiel of his pants, there and gone. The submerged point of a stick, moved by the current, or something taking a little nibble just in case? The next board was in deeper water, almost chest-high, and an awareness Ames couldn't define but felt most in the hairs on the back of his neck sharpened, abruptly. He'd be a good target underwater. He'd seen enough outdoor shows to be able to picture it clearly in his mind's eye... But the overturned alligator would be a better target, and 'gators weren't known for their sentimentality.

The next board was half-shattered, and it came away from the nails with a wet, splintering crunch. Ames hung onto it one-handed, and pried the three leftover nails out with his crowbar. Back to the shallows for another throw- -huh. That 'gator was drifting towards center-stream a little and the others still hadn't struck yet, just maybe...

"Hey professor- -you got a grappling hook in with all that gear you brought?" Ames asked, nodding towards the toolbox and small wooden tool-crate sitting farther up on shore.
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Re: Git 'er Done (open)

Postby Henry Adams » Wed Feb 27, 2013 8:04 pm

Getting a good grip with his less pain-oriented hand, Henry tugged an exposed nail out from a precariously attached board-scrap and watched it fall into the river. With a little shove in the right direction, it flotsam-ed it's way over to the pile and wedged itself into the side. "I might have something, hold on."

With a little effort, Henry tugged himself onto the top of the rickety structure, and began to make his way from pylon to pylon until he reached the shore. Digging through the box of equipment, there were two hammers, three hand saws, and a rotary blade, as well as a fire-axe that he had 'borrowed' from the barracks. Finally, towards the bottom, he found a good-sized hook on a cord of micro-fibers that he had brought along for the purpose of deep-water board ripping, and proceeded to ignore in favor of climbing. The fibers were safe to touch at this width, so he gave the hook a good wind-up and flung it across the water, embedding it in a board a few feet out from the soldier's position.

"That's right, I'm the best shot. Snipers can eat it." With that done, he made his way back into position.
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Re: Git 'er Done (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Fri Mar 01, 2013 7:28 pm

Maybe he should have spoken up louder when he first entered the water.

Gerhard mentally thanked whatever deity was apparently watching out for him as the alligator that had noticed his bustling about near the end of the dock was clocked squarely over the head, and took the opportunity to shove the stunned reptile towards its beached fellows and away from their work. It was hard to see through the silt and muck, and his gills were started to feel clogged like he had a stuffed up nose, but he wasn't gasping yet and there was still material to be salvaged.
The pylons were in decent enough shape he didn't bother messing with them, though the pair nearest the end were a bit splintered, so he was busying himself digging boards out of the sucking mud, shoving the freed hulks up towards his teammates. He had a feeling he would be spending at least ten minutes plucking off leeches, but it was a minor discomfort compared to the possibility of either the Soldier or Engineer getting themselves stuck out underwater where they quite obviously would be at a disadvantage.

Digging his claws into a particularly sturdy hunk of wood, the tentacled Medic braced himself and heaved, the tendons standing out on his neck as he strained to heave the debris up out of the muck.
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DIBS, motherfuckers...

Postby Marshall Ames » Sun Mar 03, 2013 10:42 am

"The Snipers can get in line. Have you ever had beer-battered alligator?" The Soldier began, starting to warm to to his subject.

Out near the end of the dock, the stricken gator moved. Ames looked over sharply, then caught the tip of a blue tentacle letting go, and smiled. Gerhard was vulnerable in some ways, but the tentamedic was a lot safer underwater than anyone else on base would have been, and there was power in those long, strange limbs of his. Power to rip those respawn-zombie things limb from limb even as the acid burned through them, which was a hell of a thing to remember about a man who spent so much of his time downplaying his more monstrous qualities to keep his teammates at ease.
Visuals aside, Ames figured it like having a soft-spoken M60 gunner on their side. ...And that wasn't a bad thing to have.

The upside-down gator drifted towards the others, who were now watching their friend/food's progress with placid interest. Ames felt a flash of annoyance. He'd mentally claimed the downed gator in the name of spiced cornflour and frying peanut oil already, and the idea that this pleasant image could be taken away from him set in motion thoughts of how to lay hands on that gator NOW. He put a hand on Henry's shoulder.

"See if you can get a hook in 'im man," the Soldier encouraged, then quickly waded over and retrieved his shotgun from where he'd hung it up out of the water on one of the shallower-draft posts. The first thing in the chamber would be a solid, rifled slug, and if that didn't put an end to the question of whether the gator Henry had struck was dead or just stunned, Ames didn't know what would...
Last edited by Marshall Ames on Wed Mar 06, 2013 3:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
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back on track

Postby Henry Adams » Sun Mar 03, 2013 1:18 pm

{Alright guys, I've successfully taken life's lemons and used them to burn its house down. Let's get back to business.}

Henry quirked his head, and gave the fallen gator a good look, then yanked the grappling hook out of the beam. He gave it a few underhand swings, then stopped, testing the weight just to be sure. Switching his grip, he decided to heft it around his head like a lasso, and gave it a good toss across the water. The heavy metal hook sailed through the air, and collided solidly with the mark's scaly hide before bouncing across. With a good tug, the point met flesh, and Henry began to pull the rope in.

"I don't get to use this thing nearly enough, I swear. This feels like a cartoon. I am the goddamn batman."
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Re: Git 'er Done (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Thu Mar 21, 2013 1:49 am

While the others busied themselves with the possibility of alligator for dinner, Gerhard was fighting with the board he'd found. It wasn't so much that it was heavy or anything, but the mud and swamp life had adhered the long beam to the river bottom as assuredly as wet cement. In fact, it felt like he was dealing with wet cement, the thick clay-laden mud sticking to his skin despite the protective mucus layer.
He snarled, maneuvering himself around to try wriggling his tentacles through the mud down and around the large hunk of wood, and grinned as he finally felt the suction give a little.
With an almighty heave, the tar-coated beam came surging up off the river bottom, nearly striking the doctor in the head as it proved longer than he'd estimated, breaching the surface like some miniature form of whale.
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