Musket-eer
Musket-eer
Summary: D'Artanion's rifle cert.
Date: 29/10/08
Related Logs: None
Players:
D'Artanion..Rooster..Reeves..

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Small Arms Range Genesis - Deck 14
15 BCH 2185 Souls


The shooting range can hold up to a dozen personnel that are working on their firearms skills. Each booth has a scorecard. Buttons in the booth sends the target down a runner and brings the target back. A locker holds some weaponry and is code locked for Officers and marine NCO's only. Ear and eye gear hang within the booths for protection.

It has been approximately 3 days since the Pandora Incident and D'Artanion has hardly been seen outside of sickbay. She has eaten their snackage, swilled their coffee (which can't hold a candle to Marine brew, by the way) and claimed a cot in one of their closets. She has endured the veiled and not so veiled insults and jibs from the Navy medical personnel with reasonable grace. She has even accepted being relegated to a glorified medical assistant, changing bandages and dressing wounds rather than working on diagnoses, as she is not a doctor but is /only/ a medic. Now that the sickbay has gone from ordered chaos to a dull roar, she has left. But, only long enough to get back to Marine territory. Now, showered and in a clean uniform, she has come to the shooting range to cause a little mayhem by pretending the worst offenders are painted on the targets…

Between drilling his men and the apparently endless riflery training, Rooster is starting to wear down. His duty gear is slightly crumpled and hes chewing gum as he flicks through a copy of Juno's Arms and Armaments, occasionally circling interesting entries. A cup of coffee sits on the table beside him, cooling off as some of the company clerks and other non-combatants stagger through their certifications. When D'Art comes in, the Gunny looks up, smiles and gestures towards the weapon locker, "Here for your rifle cert, then?"

Walking across from the entrance, D'Artanion flickers a glance around, then smiles when her gaze finds Rooster, "Hey, Gunny. Yeah… Figured I'd best get it outta the way while I have the time…" She looks the man over, taking in the slightly frayed look he is currently sporting. Her smile fades a hair and she tilts her head to one side, "How's the shoulder today?" As she speaks, the woman moves to the indicated locker and opens it. Selecting one of the rifles, she closes the locker and checks the chamber to be sure it is clear before doing anything else. Of course, as she does, she keeps the rifle aimed down and away from anyone.

"Its doing well, thanks," Rooster says ashe selects a paper target, smiling, "Though light duties are few and far between these days, so you'll have to forgive me bending doctor's orders a bit." He stands and walks over to the booth and puts the target into the runner, "You know the drill, five rounds, take your time," this said as he winds the target down the range and steps out of the way, "Whenever you're ready, doc."

D'Artanion nods, though her expression turns faintly sour. "Understandable, actually. But, not ideal." She watches as you load the target, then loads shells into the rifle. When you are safely out of the way, she steps forward. Once in position, she takes a pair of earplugs from a box set for that purpose and inserts them. Then, she draws the rifle to her shoulder, takes a moment to aim and squeezes off the first shot.
<Trait Roll> D'Artanion rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Fair (3).
<Trait Roll> D'Artanion rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Superb (6).
<Trait Roll> D'Artanion rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Superb (6).
<Trait Roll> D'Artanion rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Fair (3).
<Trait Roll> D'Artanion rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Good (4).
GRAND TOTAL: Another impressive showing- 22! GO MARINES!

Watching the medic fire, Rooster finds his attention wandering again in less professional directions than he would like. Dragging his view back up to the back of her head and then to the paper target, he nods and then talks to one of the company clerks who presents the Gunny with their target for Rooster to note down the result, "Good shooting- a pass, Johnstone, off you go back to the offices now, quick smart." The big Marine's attention returns to D'Art's shooting after that, taking a rough guess at her result as the target flicks about.

D'Artanion pays no attention to what is happening behind her, though she is very aware of what lies within the rifle's range. She takes a couple more shots in fairly quick succession, then two more after a brief hesitation. When she finishes, she takes a step back, and breaks down the rifle to check the chamber. When she is satusfied that things are as they should be, she snaps it back together and removes the earplugs. These are tucked into a pocket and she turns to wheel her target back in. When she has it in hand, she walks across to offer it to the Gunny when it is her turn, "Thanks, by the way."

"Hmm?" Rooster says, his attention having wandered again- put it down to tiredness, "No need to thank me, I've been doing this all week." he adds, shaking his head and smiling. "Frak, you did better than I did, comfortable pass," the Gunny continues after looking over the target, "I should be thanking you for seeing to my shoulder. Wouldn't want it seizing up when I need it." He scribbles down names and results on a clipboard, murmurs to himself and looks back up at D'Artanion, "How's the sickbay, still chaos?"

D'Artanion grins as you tell her the result, "Cool. Thanks. Wasn't my best ever, but that's okay." She offers a quick wink, then moves to claim a cleaning cloth. "I'll just wipe 'er down for the next guy. Can't have the equipment gettin' gummed up, right?" Claiming a seat near you, she begins work on the rifle. "No worries, Rooster. I'm just glad I was able to look at it." She pauses, some of the annoyance at the Naval personnel evident on her face for a moment, "It's… gettin' a bit quieter. Most've those who are not going to make it, have shuffled. Those that haven't have a chance." Shaking her head, she looks to the rifle in her hands, "Desusa'll be outta there by tonight or tomorrow morning, unless he's gotten the boot already. I'll have to check when I get back up there."

The clipboard placed down, Rooster nods and smiles at the medic, "Theres talk about integrating them into my squad, the survivors, I mean," he says, shrugging, "Any troublemakers up there I should be aware of? Anyone pinching the nurse's backsides.. anyone pinching /your/ backside?" the Gunny asks, breaking into a grin. "If I get hold of them, I don't want Trilox shooting them and being all "but- but- they deserved it" when my back is turned."

D'Artanion laughs softly, the gleam in her eyes amused rather than annoyed, "Frack, Rooster… You know how Marines are. Gotta keep busy, even when flat on their backs with holes where they shouldn't be… Just had to threaten to cut off one guys hand. Thompson… Didn't believe I was serious until I went and got the bone saw. After that, they all got real polite." Her smile faulters then and she leans back to finish with the rifle, "Honestly? I've had more crap from the Navy boys then our boys an' girls. Seein' as I am not Navy. But, whatever, right? Just do the job."

In between laughing, Rooster replies with, "Well, at least you told them," and signs off at the bottom of the clipboard, "No big breaches of discipline though?" this is the voice of a concerned squad leader. "Once Enfield over there finishes up embarrassing the lot of us with his marksmanship, I get to go take a day off," he says in a loud enough voice that said booth-occupant can hear him as the last shot is fired and earplugs removed, "Good shot though, that one, putting him forward for support sniper." Rooster adds to D'Artanion, in a considerably quieter voice. Enfield runs over, presents the target to Rooster, cracks off a smart salute and puts his rifle away before disappearing back to duty.

D'Artanion watches Enfield finish up and nods to the man as he hands the target to Rooster. She glances at the target and nods, "Nice. Looks like he'll do a good job there." Rising, she walks the rifle to the locker and puts it away. Closing the locker, she returns to the chair, "Nah. Nothing to worry about with that lot. Though some're getting a bit on the antsy side. Can't blame 'em, really." She reclaims the chair, legs stretching out to cross at her ankles, "No shit? You get a day off? Congrats, Rooster. That's real good to hear."

"Its really only a half-day," Rooster admits after a few moments, "Other half is catching up on paperwork and arguing with the Quartermaster, like as not." he explains. "Saying that, I hear theres a bar on the other station, not had the chance to go inspect it yet," he says idly, "We're going to be drilling more or less solid for the next month, so may as well burn off some steam."

D'Artanion crosses her arms before her and nods, "Yeah, they do. It's not a bad place… Had a day or so to explore before getting my assignment. Decent whiskey, though I can't say about the scotch. The 'tender does keep some of the softer stuff too, I hear. Know that their kahlua's not bad." She shrugs slightly, leaning back a bit in the chair. "I dunno, though. If you have a day off take it. Yeah, the paperwork's important, and the Quartermaster likely needs a talking to, but… It's likely you won't have a day off any time soon, right? So, take it. Do something fun, if you get the chance. Frak, say it's doctor's orders."

Reeves makes his way into the shooting range, dressed for duty in the flight suit. Sure the upper half is opened, and he is looking a little slack but such suit tends to get warm if doing much more then casual work. He runs a hand over his unshaven chin as he looks around, noticing D'Artanion and then Rooster. "Sergeants.." he adds with a nod in greeting towards them both.

D'Artanion is kind of kicked back in a chair near the one occupied by Rooster. Though she has clearly not been getting enough sleep, the woman is clean and wearing a newly pressed uniform. Rooster is a bit on the frazzled side, though paying attention to the range and those qualifying.

"I don't think that'd fly," Rooster says with a mock sigh, "Commands all spooked over what happened with the assaultstar, I reckon." The last marine qualifies, hands Rooster the target and toddles off to duty whilst they speak. "Sir," Rooster says to Reeves as he gathers his stuff up, "Duty calls now, afternoon of drilling." he explains as he makes a sharp exit. "Catch you later."

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