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trace_logs
12 May, 2016
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (38% full).
Trace is currently the only person on one of the ranges. The Walker has come to shoot with his usual handgun, apparently, and when he steps back from the counter to look, the cluster of shots on the person-shaped target is center mass at 25 yards. There's a brief shrug, and a mutter to himself, as he starts to reload.
Heading into the range is Briari, which may be a rare sight seeing how she does not frequent this particular establishment. Over her shoulder she has a large black case of carbon fiber and bright silver locks. There is a logo of AMT upon the front of it in bold gold letters. As she spies Trace, she gives a grin. "Hey there!"
Trace sets his revolver back down from the task after checking that the safety is on, pointed downrange, and steps out to before the shooting line to lift a hand in greeting. "Buenos dias, Briari," he offers.
Settling into the target range next to his, Briari takes out a key from her pocket and starts to unlock the bolts on the box, then opens it up. Inside is a military grade, top of the line sniper rifle. Taking it out, she admires it for a moment, then takes out a small LCD Panel and locks it on top of the scope, then flicks a button on the side as it powers on. "How's the shooting going?" she asks as she settles the rifle down on the table that faces the target, then peeks through the scope to give it a few tweaks.
Trace nods again, glancing at the rifle, though he doesn't seem more than minorly impressed with it. "That the gun you mentioned?" he asks, moving back into the shooting lane. "Firing." He waits a moment after the announcement, picks up the revolver, and focuses on the target. The etiquette seems almost automatic, and a minute and a half later, puts his gun down and looks at the target, which is now sporting another tight cluster of holes in the head.
"Yeah, this is the AMT Action Tech SR-3000," Briari says as she settles behind the rifle, flicks her finger along the side of the gun where a soft hum can be heard. She peeks up at the LCD panel, then through the scope as she shifts her position slightly. Then, with a fwip fwip fwip fwip! She rattles off four shots in a row from the long barreled silencer, nailing four bullseyes one after the other. "The software helps track the target, locks it in."
Trace sets down his revolver to watch the other Glass Walker shoot, brows furrowed. "So it takes half the skill out of shooting?" he says after she's done, as he opens the box of bullets again to reload the cylinder.
"This gun that my father's company developed is not about skill. It is about killing terrorists without compromising your position or your team. The government does not use these guns to impress their friends or win contests. This is a gun that would never even exist, technically," Briari says as she locks and loads again, then peers down the scope again with a grin. "The battery in the tracking system gives me almost three hours before it forces me to go into manual mode. This baby has night vision as well."
One way or the other, the ahroun seems distinctly unimpressed by the speech. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it and shakes his head, and turns back towards his target with a slight smile. "Firing." Six more shots join their fellows at centre mass. "The skill remains in knowing when to take the shot," he says, "and knowing when that window of opportunity comes up."
"Are you trying to shame me or something? I am just warming myself up in case I need to put one of these in the head of the Queen from six hundred yards or so. I am a math and computer nerd. I actually have a background in archery. I used to idolize the Green Arrow when I was a young girl. I had a huge crush on Oliver Queen," Briari says as she takes another shot, right down the middle.
Trace shrugs his shoulders and sets the revolver down. "No," he says, and his manner is plain and straightforward enough. "I was just giving my opinion, as it applied in general rather than the current situation." One more shrug, and the ahroun turns to study his target. "I'm a gun nut," he admits with a brief grin, "but mostly with older and antique guns. Those are what I learned on, they're what I own, and what I practise on. The most important part though is just getting a feel for how it shoots, being able to account for the fallout the bullet is going to take over the distance, and such. That goes for anything."
"I am sure it does," Briari says as she lifts the gun up, flips on the safety, then unclips the magazine from the bottom of the gun. She carefully puts it back into the case, then closes the lid with a snap and click. "I personally do not like guns very much, but as the daughter of a CEO whose entire company is making weapons that the public will never see or know about for the government, I sorta had to get used to being around them."
"Like anything else, they're tools, they have their places and their uses," Trace says, not quietly, but not particularly loudly either. He opens the cylinder on his gun, then sets it down and moves out to lean on the dividing wall separating the lanes. "Makes sense enough to me."
"You know the trick shot gift?" Briari asks curiously as she flops down into a chair, letting the large case rest against her leg.
Trace nods. "I do," he says. "It's pretty useful. And also the one that keeps guns from running out of ammo, as well as the one that makes tool-using easier and… more…" There is a pause while Trace searches for the word, "effective."
"I know trick shot also. I also have the spider's song and power surge. Most of my other gifts are moon based though to make me efficient as a scout. I don't have the tool using one though. What's it called?" Briari asks.
"Apecraft's Blessings. Stupid name," Trace says, shaking his head and grinning. "At least, Hands Full of Thunder the name sort of makes sense and is cool. I am doing teaching, to complete my chiminage here. When I finish with what I have already promised— to Felix, and also a rite to Jamethon after that— I would be happy to teach either of the Gifts you don't know, to you."
Briari nods her head. "Sure, let me know if no one else snags you by then. I would like to learn the first one if possible. I reached out to Salem to learn Skyscraper's vision but he has not got back to me."
Trace nods. "Of course," Trace responds. There's a bit of a grin as he moves back to pack up, unloading the revolver except for a single shot and setting the safety back on, before putting it into the holster in his waistband. The ammo in turn gets put into the small zippered lunchbox that seems to serve as a bag for it. "Well, everybody has been busy, with everything that is going on."
"Yeah, Mouse told me that I need to slow down, actually and not be so eager to get killed or something." Briari chuckles as she shrugs her shoulders upwards. "I just want to be as useful as I can since I am the only one here in the Sept that has my skill-set. But, I can see her point. I should stick to the shadows instead of the front lines. I'd get wasted in seconds when it comes down to it."
Trace sets the bag at his feet and raises an eyebrow in question, though to what it's not precisely clear. "I know the feeling about wanting to be as useful as I can as much as I can," Trace says, with a bit of a sigh, followed by a long pause. "But getting yourself killed won't do anyone any good."
"Yeah. I can't fight for beans, outside of Kung Fu. I am a brown belt. Slug has been teaching me to fight in crinos for the last year and I have got okay at it. I killed one of those black oozey goop monsters, as well as a wraith recently. So I am getting up there. Slowly but surely." Briari says as she gives a few jabs in the air as her shoulders rock back and forth. "Though Slug is more about dirty fighting and the such."
"I'd go crazy, if I was off the front lines too much," Trace admits. "It's where I've always been, out there. Laying low and keeping my head down like Mouse said is frustrating for me." He grins.
"Yeah… my entire life was head down and lay low. But, daughter of a very rich, powerful and influential kinfolk who was very important to the Sept. He made sure I was assigned a pack that was away from danger and stuck behind a computer sifting through video, data, and creating strategies for the big dogs in Atlanta. To be honest, I am glad that I am here now, where this feels more… normal… I guess. Instead of a job." Briari says as she stretches herself out. "Corporate Wolves, right?"
Trace lifts his shoulders in a shrug, and nods, another long silence following before he speaks again. "Anyway," he tilts his head back at the targets, "this is pretty much a good half of what I do for fun, most of the time, when stuff isn't happening. What about yourself?"
"What do I do for fun? Besides obsessively monitor my stock portfolios, I play chess. I play a lot of video games. Um… I scout out the enemy, a lot. To be honest I am pretty damn boring." Briari says with a shrug of her shoulders. "I live with Nieve and Ava now so at least I have some company and friends."
Trace laughs, somewhere halfway between a snicker and a chuckle. "I spend my time either shooting, lifting weights, or training and sparring, so that does not make me any better or less boring," he points out.
"Yeah, I suppose I should go out and do more stuff. I have a boyfriend named Benedict. Gaian kinfolk. Really nice guy and also a police detective. We've worked on a few things together, seeing how I can find anyone in the world as long as I know their name." Briari grins.
Trace listens and nods, and then his phone rings. Or at least, one hopes that's where the Star Wars Imperial March is coming from in the Ahroun's pocket. "I'm sorry, excuse me," he offers to Briari, before crouching down to grab the lunchbox, and pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Buenos tardes, ¿de parte de quién?" A nod to his tribemate, "I have to take this," he says, as he leaves.
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (38% full).
Trace is currently the only person on one of the ranges. The Walker has come to shoot with his usual handgun, apparently, and when he steps back from the counter to look, the cluster of shots on the person-shaped target is center mass at 25 yards. There's a brief shrug, and a mutter to himself, as he starts to reload.
Heading into the range is Briari, which may be a rare sight seeing how she does not frequent this particular establishment. Over her shoulder she has a large black case of carbon fiber and bright silver locks. There is a logo of AMT upon the front of it in bold gold letters. As she spies Trace, she gives a grin. "Hey there!"
Trace sets his revolver back down from the task after checking that the safety is on, pointed downrange, and steps out to before the shooting line to lift a hand in greeting. "Buenos dias, Briari," he offers.
Settling into the target range next to his, Briari takes out a key from her pocket and starts to unlock the bolts on the box, then opens it up. Inside is a military grade, top of the line sniper rifle. Taking it out, she admires it for a moment, then takes out a small LCD Panel and locks it on top of the scope, then flicks a button on the side as it powers on. "How's the shooting going?" she asks as she settles the rifle down on the table that faces the target, then peeks through the scope to give it a few tweaks.
Trace nods again, glancing at the rifle, though he doesn't seem more than minorly impressed with it. "That the gun you mentioned?" he asks, moving back into the shooting lane. "Firing." He waits a moment after the announcement, picks up the revolver, and focuses on the target. The etiquette seems almost automatic, and a minute and a half later, puts his gun down and looks at the target, which is now sporting another tight cluster of holes in the head.
"Yeah, this is the AMT Action Tech SR-3000," Briari says as she settles behind the rifle, flicks her finger along the side of the gun where a soft hum can be heard. She peeks up at the LCD panel, then through the scope as she shifts her position slightly. Then, with a fwip fwip fwip fwip! She rattles off four shots in a row from the long barreled silencer, nailing four bullseyes one after the other. "The software helps track the target, locks it in."
Trace sets down his revolver to watch the other Glass Walker shoot, brows furrowed. "So it takes half the skill out of shooting?" he says after she's done, as he opens the box of bullets again to reload the cylinder.
"This gun that my father's company developed is not about skill. It is about killing terrorists without compromising your position or your team. The government does not use these guns to impress their friends or win contests. This is a gun that would never even exist, technically," Briari says as she locks and loads again, then peers down the scope again with a grin. "The battery in the tracking system gives me almost three hours before it forces me to go into manual mode. This baby has night vision as well."
One way or the other, the ahroun seems distinctly unimpressed by the speech. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it and shakes his head, and turns back towards his target with a slight smile. "Firing." Six more shots join their fellows at centre mass. "The skill remains in knowing when to take the shot," he says, "and knowing when that window of opportunity comes up."
"Are you trying to shame me or something? I am just warming myself up in case I need to put one of these in the head of the Queen from six hundred yards or so. I am a math and computer nerd. I actually have a background in archery. I used to idolize the Green Arrow when I was a young girl. I had a huge crush on Oliver Queen," Briari says as she takes another shot, right down the middle.
Trace shrugs his shoulders and sets the revolver down. "No," he says, and his manner is plain and straightforward enough. "I was just giving my opinion, as it applied in general rather than the current situation." One more shrug, and the ahroun turns to study his target. "I'm a gun nut," he admits with a brief grin, "but mostly with older and antique guns. Those are what I learned on, they're what I own, and what I practise on. The most important part though is just getting a feel for how it shoots, being able to account for the fallout the bullet is going to take over the distance, and such. That goes for anything."
"I am sure it does," Briari says as she lifts the gun up, flips on the safety, then unclips the magazine from the bottom of the gun. She carefully puts it back into the case, then closes the lid with a snap and click. "I personally do not like guns very much, but as the daughter of a CEO whose entire company is making weapons that the public will never see or know about for the government, I sorta had to get used to being around them."
"Like anything else, they're tools, they have their places and their uses," Trace says, not quietly, but not particularly loudly either. He opens the cylinder on his gun, then sets it down and moves out to lean on the dividing wall separating the lanes. "Makes sense enough to me."
"You know the trick shot gift?" Briari asks curiously as she flops down into a chair, letting the large case rest against her leg.
Trace nods. "I do," he says. "It's pretty useful. And also the one that keeps guns from running out of ammo, as well as the one that makes tool-using easier and… more…" There is a pause while Trace searches for the word, "effective."
"I know trick shot also. I also have the spider's song and power surge. Most of my other gifts are moon based though to make me efficient as a scout. I don't have the tool using one though. What's it called?" Briari asks.
"Apecraft's Blessings. Stupid name," Trace says, shaking his head and grinning. "At least, Hands Full of Thunder the name sort of makes sense and is cool. I am doing teaching, to complete my chiminage here. When I finish with what I have already promised— to Felix, and also a rite to Jamethon after that— I would be happy to teach either of the Gifts you don't know, to you."
Briari nods her head. "Sure, let me know if no one else snags you by then. I would like to learn the first one if possible. I reached out to Salem to learn Skyscraper's vision but he has not got back to me."
Trace nods. "Of course," Trace responds. There's a bit of a grin as he moves back to pack up, unloading the revolver except for a single shot and setting the safety back on, before putting it into the holster in his waistband. The ammo in turn gets put into the small zippered lunchbox that seems to serve as a bag for it. "Well, everybody has been busy, with everything that is going on."
"Yeah, Mouse told me that I need to slow down, actually and not be so eager to get killed or something." Briari chuckles as she shrugs her shoulders upwards. "I just want to be as useful as I can since I am the only one here in the Sept that has my skill-set. But, I can see her point. I should stick to the shadows instead of the front lines. I'd get wasted in seconds when it comes down to it."
Trace sets the bag at his feet and raises an eyebrow in question, though to what it's not precisely clear. "I know the feeling about wanting to be as useful as I can as much as I can," Trace says, with a bit of a sigh, followed by a long pause. "But getting yourself killed won't do anyone any good."
"Yeah. I can't fight for beans, outside of Kung Fu. I am a brown belt. Slug has been teaching me to fight in crinos for the last year and I have got okay at it. I killed one of those black oozey goop monsters, as well as a wraith recently. So I am getting up there. Slowly but surely." Briari says as she gives a few jabs in the air as her shoulders rock back and forth. "Though Slug is more about dirty fighting and the such."
"I'd go crazy, if I was off the front lines too much," Trace admits. "It's where I've always been, out there. Laying low and keeping my head down like Mouse said is frustrating for me." He grins.
"Yeah… my entire life was head down and lay low. But, daughter of a very rich, powerful and influential kinfolk who was very important to the Sept. He made sure I was assigned a pack that was away from danger and stuck behind a computer sifting through video, data, and creating strategies for the big dogs in Atlanta. To be honest, I am glad that I am here now, where this feels more… normal… I guess. Instead of a job." Briari says as she stretches herself out. "Corporate Wolves, right?"
Trace lifts his shoulders in a shrug, and nods, another long silence following before he speaks again. "Anyway," he tilts his head back at the targets, "this is pretty much a good half of what I do for fun, most of the time, when stuff isn't happening. What about yourself?"
"What do I do for fun? Besides obsessively monitor my stock portfolios, I play chess. I play a lot of video games. Um… I scout out the enemy, a lot. To be honest I am pretty damn boring." Briari says with a shrug of her shoulders. "I live with Nieve and Ava now so at least I have some company and friends."
Trace laughs, somewhere halfway between a snicker and a chuckle. "I spend my time either shooting, lifting weights, or training and sparring, so that does not make me any better or less boring," he points out.
"Yeah, I suppose I should go out and do more stuff. I have a boyfriend named Benedict. Gaian kinfolk. Really nice guy and also a police detective. We've worked on a few things together, seeing how I can find anyone in the world as long as I know their name." Briari grins.
Trace listens and nods, and then his phone rings. Or at least, one hopes that's where the Star Wars Imperial March is coming from in the Ahroun's pocket. "I'm sorry, excuse me," he offers to Briari, before crouching down to grab the lunchbox, and pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Buenos tardes, ¿de parte de quién?" A nod to his tribemate, "I have to take this," he says, as he leaves.