Perpetually DisappointedIlltyd smirked. He was expecting to be the one giving orders, he was a bit surprised by the Dwarf. But it was sound advice, regardless of its source. Still it annoyed him that the Dwarf had been relatively quiet during the meeting, almost enough to take issue for the sake of it. He had on an old resistance uniform, mostly assembled himself. There was no insignia to mark it and so it appeared as a green overcoat and pants, rather than an actual uniform. He would look only like a bandit, perhaps a retired resistance member turned to it to make ends meet which for the most part was true. Though just as likely he might have worn a similar uniform had he simply bought it or assembled it himself by pure coincidence. Either way, he saw no reason to conceal it. His kind were common enough, idealists turned bandit. Both lives appealed to romantics. He did however conceal his face by means of a scarf and wore a simple hat associated with the original uniform, which he concealed his long hair into. He was armed with two pistols, which he still had concealed. "There's a reason I marked the oak tree here. It's not far from a forest. If possible we'll want to replace the weaponry lost with branches. Piping as well would be ideal, but we have little means of that on our notice, there might be loose piping to throw in if we have time, but I doubt it. None the less, cinders of the stocks might change their perception, if they suspect the guns were too badly damaged before hand, we may appear to have come later and salvaged scrap or at least our robbery may appear botched, " He looked around, "Far from ideal but with an hours notice, it was the best I could invent. If this is to work, the drivers cannot survive and must be killed by fire. Or at least their bodies must be badly burnt. If they must be shot, do not aim for the head. Further we have to create a mechanical jam in the door to make it appear they had no hope of escape. Understood?"
edited 28th Jul '12 5:08:44 AM by Fauxlosophe
Mé féin ag daṁsa faoin ngealaċ seanrince gan ċeol leis ach ceol cuisle: Is mé féin go huaigneaċ- an seanuaigneaċ
Many Faces"Understood." replied Auhsed and most of the rest of the group. The two minotaurs merely grunted their affirmation. A few minutes later the distraction was sprung. "Whoohoo!" Three seemingly rich, reckless, thoughtless, and possibly drunk human teenagers appeared out of nowhere on motorcycles. Up, down, and around the tracks they went, laughing and shouting as they sped past baffled soldiers and rail workers. A soldier shouted at them to stop, and got an empty bottle tossed in his direction for his troubles. Most of the soldiers immediately went over to try and stop the speeding youths. Thankfully, no one seemed inclined to shoot the troublemakers. The railworkers, human and non-human alike, mostly just laughed. Team A went to work. In earlier days, the old magic wielders could have conjured invisible fields, or reflective walls. Some might have been able to teleport to get where they wanted with no fuss. Those days were long gone though. Nobody knew any advanced spells, but improvising with what they had was a staple part of any sorcerer's life these days. The first and most basic spell anyone learned was how to conjure light. The much more difficult counterpart was conjuring darkness. It was a talent few ever learned, these days even fewer, but right now it was being put to good use. While everyone was watching the bikers, the sorcerers summoned the shadows. Being night, their work was already half way done for them. The lights illuminating the area nearest the train dimmed. The direct zone between the train and where the Fey were hiding was suddenly deprived of moonlight. They weren't invisible, but they sure were hard to see. "Team B, we're as good as we'll ever be! Go!" To the train. To the doors, inside. To the guns. One mage accompanying them brought a light into his hand. "Sweet mother, that's a lot of weapons."
Schrodinger's Goth: While inside the box, it is impossible to determine whether the Goth wishes she was never born, or wishes she was dead.
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