9042/Danger Room: Shipwreck Isle

Danger Room: Shipwreck Isle
Date of Scene:	12 December 2021
Location:	Danger Room
Synopsis:	The training session in survival techniques proved a few of things for certain. It is probably a good thing that they have mutant powers to rely on. That Rahne can sleep through almost anything, that Monet knows an impressive array of french swears, that James can benchpress a solid portion of an 18th century sailing ship, that Jimmy cannot be trusted with pork products. And that Scott should not include alcohol in his simulations. Especially if Rogue is involved.
Cast of Characters:	Scott Summers, Monet St. Croix, Rahne Sinclair, Rogue, Jimmy Hudson, James Proudstar

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Scott Summers has posed:
The Danger Room can be one of the most effective tools in the asrsenal of the residents of Xavier's School for the gifted. When it comes to training the advantages of a simulator that can conjure up virtually anything, present it in a totally lifelike fashion are unquestioned. Practice, as they say, makes perfect, and facing down real life sorts of situations in the safety and relative comfort of a great big holodeck presents endless possibilities for the X-Men and their students to get valuable practice with their powers with a fraction of the threat or danger of injury -- or worse -- that would otherwise be the case.

It can also be a whole heck of a lot of fun too.

Not that the tall, dark haired man standing on a seemingly endless expanse of white sand would ever conceed the point. The room is a tool, not a toy. Even here, on this seemingly tropical island there is a reason for it. Anyone hoping to lounge around in the sun, sand and sea are likely to find themselves gravely disappointed. That's just how Scott Summers rolls.

He is not exactly dressed in conventional fashion however. His uniform is nowhere in evidence. Instead he wears a ripped and tattered white shirt, long sleeves torn and ragged at the elbows. A pair of blue breeches are likewise ripped and ratty at the hem and look more then a little damp and marked by streaks of sand that cling to the woolen fabrics. An old fashion powder horn is draped around his neck and a sheath at his waist appears to have a knife within. Atop his head is a red bandana tied off, giving some relief from the sun, though again, it looks more like a torn swatch of cloth then a true bandana. Definitely not the sort of look Scott normally sports.

It does sort of fit in with the background however. The long beach of white sand stretches into the distance, broken by what appears to be rocky crags perhaps a mile or two away. One one side are crystal blue waters, the scent of salt heavy in the air, rolling in on warm tropical breezes. At places the water crests over rocky shoals and reefs where the remains of a shattered wooden ship creaks and groans as it is battered by the tide, the remaining sails hanging limply in a tangle of cloth and rope. On the other side of the beach? A few hundred feet away the sand gives way to tall, green grasses, the isle appearing to be somewhat hilly and rolling, rocky outcroppings scattered here and there. And then, dense jungle. Jungle that seems to go on forever. Jungle where the occasional shrieks of large animals come from, cutting through the sound of the surf lapping against the sand.

"Listen up," Scott announces to those gathered on the beach. "We're shipwrecked. You have a random assortment of potentially useful items on you. Anything else, we're going to have to scavange. From the ship, from whatever washes up on the tides or whatever we can gather from the island. And we're not alone," he adds. Because of course they aren't.

Oh, there's going to be Sky Sharks. So many Sky Sharks.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The tall, supremely self-centered form of Monet St. Croix, would scoff, "I -am- the only tool that will be needed." Not that she'll consider doing all the work herself. That's what directing the others to do is for. No matter that she's not particularly trained for survival; nor does she have the best possible idea of what to do in these circumstances nor ability.

Her ego will see her through. "And let's finish this quickly, I have more pressing things to pursue." If they're so pressing and this is beneath her; one might think to ask why she's even here for a training scenario. Monet would stand, arms crossed while listening to the briefing. Waiting, at least to hear the next few portions of it after she had spoken her self-centered due.

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
The wide green eyes on the smallest one look about, taking in the new environment. She lifts her nose, sniffing the air, and then reaches her right hand up to scritch at her left shoulder. She wears a simple white shirt, torn, and lacks either pants or shoes. A single damp sock on her foot rounds out the look, which may or may not include shorts.

She lifts her gaze to Scott, then to Monet. Not the type to take charge.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is wearing the same attire she had been when the ship had wrecked. A tattered white and red dress with a leather bodice over top of her upper form. Her hair is wild, wilder than usual in fact, with the humidity making the thick locks of dark brown and white all puffy and frizzy. She looks around the island and instantly starts to fly toward one of the larger rocks!

Her booted feet are planted upon it as she starts to look around.

"Stranded on a beautiful desert island, with only our wits to see us through...." The Belle looks back over her shoulder and grins past her flowing long hair.

"Good luck I got tons'a wits..." She says cheerily.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    James Hudson had only been through a handful of Danger Room scenarios. One that had really gotten to him when Jean programmed something to put him through his paces, and another that was similar to this one save that they were on a ship. Here, on a beach, with an objective that isn't punch or stab something... that is somewhat new. Which has the phys. ed. teacher grimacing a little to himself.
    Quietly, low tone of voice so as not to carry too far beyond those around him, maybe Rogue-distance, he murmurs. "I've done this afore. Accordin' ta some of my students I need to go punch some trees until they break apart inta wood and then I build stuff."
    And, as if he was actually going to do that, he lifts a hand and hollars in Scott's direction. "M'gonna gather what supplies I can. Or take a look around." And even moreso, a sniff around. With that he starts to stroll off, bare feet digging into the sand. His own ensemble isn't too off from Scott's, though his breeks are black and he has a tricorn hat of the same color as well.

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar smiles and stretches his arms with a grin. Then he takes a small juicebox from his knapsack and sucks on the straw. He seems not at all bothered. The Apache doesn't feel the need to extoll his capabilities, he teaches the survival course, he's been raised as an Apache warrior. He's wearing a pair of shredded pants, no shoes or shirt. His hear is tied back with a leather thong. there's a make shift bandoleir around his chest and two shiny knives are held in place.Jim nods, "Yeah, I'll take a look for what's in the shallows. You wanna help Red?"He offers to Rahne.

Scott Summers has posed:
While he normally would -- at least if this was out in the real world -- it would appear that Scott has no intention of taking charge, or asserting the one true right course of action in these particular circumstances. It's possible that this particular sim has all sorts of purposes layered in behind it. That does seem to be the sort of thing that he would do. While settle for honing just one skill when there might be a multitude that can be worked on. He raises a hand to his eyes, shielding them from the bright sun overhead as he watches some of them start off. His one concession to 'reality' is the fact that he wears his visor. No need to take out a wall because his ruby-red glasses slip afterall. While it is beautiful weather at the moment, with the sun and the breeze, in this distance dark and stormy clouds can be seen out on the ocean, slowly rolling towards them. "It's about prioritization," he says quietly, glancing between Rahne and Monet for a moment, perhaps understandably. The others all have a little more formal experience afterall. "That storm moving in means that if you don't want to get thoroughly soaked, we're going to need shelter at some point. Food is always good too, unless you enjoy an empty stomach. Water is more important though. I don't see any nearby unless we can salvage a water barrel or two from the ship," he notes idly, his gaze swinging around to follow the others. "And then there's that ship. Slowly grinding away on that reef. Lots of potentially useful stuff there. But will it last through the storm?" he continues conversationally.

Rogue's vantage point atop the rocks does give her a better view of the island -- perhaps most importantly of the river that runs amongst the rocky crags down the beach, winding it's way into the jungle. That's something.

As Jimmy wanders about he will find all sorts of scents -- the holographic technology is that good and immersive. There are any number of animals, some familiar -- small mammals, wild pigs and the like. Some... not quite right. What almost smells like primates, apes. But different. And a whole lot of reek that smells absolutely wrong and unnatural. Perhaps al ittle concerning.

For those wading out from the beech there are any number of interesting items bobbing in the surf -- crates and barrels and a seaman's chest or two along with rope, sail and driftwood.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would simply take a moment to consider how to perform things more efficiently, and would speak, "I'm going for a higher view." Flying up and into the air, she would go several dozen meters up into the sky, finding a good vantage point and hovering. There she would use her better-than-normal vision to survey the area, looking for things of use or that stood out. Focusing first upon anything reasonably intact for salvage or of immediate retrieval. From her comfortable position she would start to expand her view.

Broadcasting telepathically to the others in a rougher tone than really necessary due to her limited telepathic abilities <<I'll tell you if I find anything useful and then you can retrieve it>> A dismissive mental tone traveling over her broadcast from her far from impressive technique.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue looks over at Jimmy and then leaps down on to the ground beside him. She pulls her white bangs out of her face and just holds them off to the side with a big smile on her face. "Captain Jimmy Bear Grills. Survivah. Man." She says with a silly happy tone to her voice before she looks back at the others just in time to see Monet shoot up in to the sky.

Rogue looks up after her and just smirks big. "That girl is the key to everythin'. I'm sure'a it. We must protect her at all costs." Rogue says, her head up, neck stretched as she stares right up at the sky.

She looks back down at the ship then, before she shouts at James. "Ya wanna start tearin' that thing up and makin' us a sweet shack and maybe a boardwalk with a Red Lobstah?!"

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne looks at James as she's invited to swim. Not her forte, she gives a little headshake at the suggestion. "Ah can barely swim," she admits, explaining why she'd likely be a bad call there.

Then she looks at Scott, and sighs. "Nobody go off alone," she suggests. It sounds like she's worried about even offering the idea. "We dinnae know th' place yet." Even if her own instincts are telling her to go wolf, to run, to explore. Oh, so tempting.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    A snort is given n Rogue's direction as he murmurs lightly and sidelong to her, "I'm not drinkin' pee." A man's gotta put his foot down somewhere.
    For his part, Jimmy prioritizes initial resource gathering. What's right at hand and available that can be consolidated. Food first, and if he espies a source of water then that'll take prime. If he comes across some sight as toward a possible shelter or a cave... well that'd be on the list of the next most important thing.
    Intel, to be relayed. It'll take some time for him to make a first loop, extending outward from their recovery site.
    When he 'hears' Monet's voice in his head, however, he tries to catch her with his own thoughts. << Give folks a heads up, if ya please, Monet. I'm catchin' the scent of others around. Primates mebbe. No comments about me needin' a shower. >>

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar smiles and walks over to Scott casually, he nods to the visor, "You know Yana and I have a bet about how many back ups you keep on you at any time."
    He then moves easily through the surf, walking and then swimmng. He moves through the water with the grace of an olympian multiplied by a few times. He collects the items from the shallows and heads towards the ship, Investigating the wreck. He calls back, "Only if we get some cheddar bay biscuits. They are amazing."

Scott Summers has posed:
Hey, if anyone might be called the ultimate boy scout it could be Scott. Being prepared is something of a way of life. There is an ever so slight upturn of the corners of his mouth -- his version of a smile perhaps -- and a small shrug ripples across his shoulders. "If things go horribly wrong maybe you'll find out," he offers up, though naturally not giving an actually answer. He would never be so callous as taking away one of their betting topics that easily.

A brief nod is giving to Monet as she shoots up into the air to provide a little aerial recon before the same is offered up to Rahne. "An excellent point. Making sure that we are at least working in pairs makes it a little safer. Failing that, staying in view of one another is a pretty good compromise," he notes. "And utilizing each of our strengths while covering for each other's weaknesses," he adds, wading into the surf to help haul some of the goods that James has gathered over towards shore, at least to the shallows where Rahne can assist without risk. "Keep an eye out for shellfish along the beach. Crab is a little difficult to get at but I think we'll be able to manage," he says drily.

From up in the air above Monet is offered a pretty good view of the nearby surroundings. She too will spoke the river winding it's way inland into the jungle about two miles down the coast. She will also spot rustling in the grasses that are stretched out just beyond their stretch of beach. Something is moving there. Something with some size too it, even if not tall enough to reach above the concealling grasses.

Caves certainly would offer good shelter without the need to build anything and the nearby foothills do seem to be a likely source of them. Certainly there are some craggy features that would suggest there might be a few. It would also give them the advantage of the high ground, which instantly makes them undefeatable, so there is that.

The shattered remains of the pirate ship have clearly seen better days. It's just a fraction of the fine sailing vessel that it had been, with it's backside open to the sea, broken off at some point. That happens when a ship gets sailed off the edge of the world -- literally. About half the ship is already under water, being ground away with each incoming wave, the creaking and shattering of wooden planking a little ominous. But it is also likely to be a trove of potentially useful items.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Jimmy's returned thought to Monet is met with an irritated swirl of emotion back that cuts off as Monet restrains herself from making any sort of remark, crass or not, on the circumstances. Her sweep is methodical. Starting along the beach, surveying areas by sectors to divide it. Glancing at each area for a pattern or something that might stand out and if so giving it a more intense skim.

She's not prioritizing areas where the others are already searching, they can be expected to perform their tasks adequately. She's about to sneer at the instruction of 'go in pairs' but restrains herself.

And when Monet happens to spot something down the coast she would survey, going to call out <<I will be sending you data shortly>> Jimmy had asked her after all. So she sends a very quick visual image of the location where she would be noticing that grass blocking out the view. She's not flying off to inspect it in more detail. She is however flying higher to try and get a better view.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue just grins at Jimmy's answer to her before she shakes her head. "Well. If push comes t'shove, I'll start rippin' some trees outta the ground t'build us a nice village. I gotta do all the damn work around here, I can tell that's how this is gonna play out..." She says, jokingly of course. Her eyes glancing toward Scott on the beach, she grins before looking to the ship. "Better get some stuff off'a that before it all gets claimed by the deep blue sea..."

LIke Monet, Rogue lifts up off the ground, but instead of going super high, Rogue just shoots forward across the beach toward the ship wreck. She scans over what is gathering up from the waves and starts tossing important looking bits and baubles up further to the edge of the sand, surely further than the tides will come for them later!

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne takes ONE step into the water, and a wave hits her. Suddenly the white shirt she's wearing isn't as much use for keeping her covered as it was, and she spits out water. She basically has nothing to hide under the shirt anyway, but a moment later she's failing at survival because she shifts.

Not everyone is doing well at this survival task. Rahne, for example, gives a perfect example of what not to do by turning into a wolf, and barking animatedly at the oncoming waves. She tries to bite them, but for some reason can't get purchase. Which causes more barking, and more snapping.

Wet dog.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    The Canadian teacher expands his search pattern, taking his time and moving fairly quietly as he spreads out to take in what he can of the land. Though after a bit he starts to bring that perimeter walk back toward their starting point, perhaps figuring the intel might be best relayed in person.
    Not that Monet might not have relayed the message. But... ok because Monet might not have relayed the message.
    Once he's near enough to Scott he lifts his voice once again, "Looks like we got small critters, some wild pigs running around, and some form of primates. Somethin' about this place smells... off. Not right." He'll lift his voice when he relays that to reach those nearby in case they're wondering too.
    Then he jerks a thumb in the direction he came from. "Might be some caves over yonder." Then he takes a deep breath and motions with a nod. "For now gonna go see what Monet's eyeballing."
    With that he starts to move in that direction.

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar does what he does best gathering items into a section of the hull that looks pretty stable. He gathers food stuffs, hardtack, a barrel of lemons a few of water, sails ropes, spare pieces of wood and he cracks away that portion of hull causing the ship to flounder just a bit more bringing its weight further inside the reef, just a bit more protected. He drags the haul back towards shore making steady progress with something the size of a small barge dragging behind him. He does make it look easy.

Scott Summers has posed:
Oh dear. Perhaps this exercise is not just a chance for everyone else to learn a few skills and work together in a team. Perhaps it is to let Scott get to know some of the strengths and weaknesses of those participating. One lesson that he probably should take to heart? Rahne and the ocean might not mix very well. With her otherwise occupied trying to literally drive back the sea, the dark haired man begins to haul some of that debris up onto the beach and out of the way. Because a whole lot more is coming. "Sounds good. Keep your eyes open," he urges as he takes Jimmy's report.

The grasses continue to rustle and move in a manner that is definitely not the wind and while it might be hard to spot what is tromping through the underbrush from a ways away there is no doubt once Monet has the bird's eye view directly overhead. And what it is might be about the biggest wild sow that Monet has ever seen. Which probably stands to reason as one would expect that she has interacted with a lot of pigs. Those tusks look rather dangerous though and while the handful of piglets that follow after her might look cute, they probably make her that much more dangerous.

The ocean just isn't going to retreat from a wolf, no matter how fierce and the waves keep rolling in. The shift is subtle at first, but unmistakable. The surf is definitely building, definitely getting rougher -- no doubt driven ahead of the approaching storm. The waves lash at the discontented, barking canine as that sound reaches out over the open expanse of the island.

Ahhh, superstrength. It does come in handy. Especially when one can just drag the whole backside of a boat along. There is a series of rips, of shattering wood as James simply hauls the back of their former boat towards shore, in past the shelter that will be given by those reefs and shoals, the goodies gathered up much safer now. And it is quite the useful haul between the food and water, the building supplies and of course, tools. They make everything much easier then trying to just use rocks.

For those with a bird's eye view of things, they might notice movement over at the treeline, leaves ruffling as something approaches the edge of the dense treeline, watching out towards the unlikely group.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
How disgusting. Monet St Croix's eyes would narrow at the thing as she would send in another broadcast - this one quieter, at least <<Feral animal. One of you might find it useful to cook if you feel the need to consume something so uncultured>> Up in the air more, Monet has satisfied herself in relaying along what she had spotted. She's up too high to be in the way of anything and would remain there.

Her signal had been given and she's done her quota of 'help' for this moment. Now she's back on to sweeping and inspecting the area for other things, letting Jimmy Hudson go to handle the feral animal. Starting to survey other sectors now as she had divided them up, continuing to scan for anything useful or any threats.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue's fist bursts through the shipwreck!

She rips some of the planks out of her way then and peers inside the boat. "Oh yes." Rogue mutters then as she goes to work ripping more planks off the side of the boat and just tossing them carelessly behind her in to the shallow shore water below where she is floating.

She works and works before she leans her body inside the boat, her tattered skirt flowing around her lower half, as she wrenches something loose inside.

When she comes back out she has two barrels over her shoulders, both marked with 'Beer' and she starts to fly them back toward the grassy part of the island proper.

"I found the essentials!" Rogue calls out, before she looks around to see if anyone is still around where she's at...

"Where'd everyone go?"

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar hauls the barge ashore then returns to the shipwreck. He walks down to the thedge of the reef and dives into the open ocean beyond. He explores what remains of the ship in the deeper water.

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne stops trying to eat the ocean. She gives it a low growl, letting it know that she's watching it and that they'll get back to it later, then shifts again. She's human again, and she looks...she looks mortified. BUt she swallows, getting it under control, and says, "I'm...ah'm gonna find fresh water. Sources. Of. Dry wood. James, if ah dinnae..." Then she blinks, he's leaving, taking off.

"Ah. Half an hour. Sorry." THen a wolf is off into the woods. Gone, another animal among animals.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    A short salute is given Scott's way then Jimmy is moving in the direction where Monet relayed that image for him. For a brief moment he tries to catch Rogue's eye off in the distance as he lifts a hand to wave, then gestures in the direction he's going since she moves much faster than he.
    << A'right, wanna give a hand with it? >> Jimmy tries to think in the direction of the St. Croix Gal even as he enters the tall grass wending his way in the direction of the feral animal he likely has no idea exactly how large it is.

Scott Summers has posed:
But why is the rum gone?

It would appear that the shipwreck itself is in good hands... more or less... so Scott scrambles out of the water and out of the way of both the boards that are being hurled about and the possibility that James will just decide to beach the entire thing. Either way, he's just in the way at the moment so he begins edging away from the waterline, moving closer to the swaying grasses, the wind starting to pick up as those steely grey clouds rippling with the occasional flash of lighting creep closer and closer. Which also brings him up towards Rogue and her haul. "The beer?" Scott asks archly. It is possible that he doesn't consider that a priority. And people say that he's no fun.

It won't take Jimmy all that long to stumble over the massive wild sow, though in amongst the grasses it is much harder to notice the swaying of those long strands. Particularly with the wind picking up. Maybe Monet will give him a warning before he walks right into them. Then again, maybe not. But stumble over the wild boar he will and while the giant pig seems a little surprised at first, those dark, beady eyes narrow almost at once, rough hair bristles and the creature gives a loud SWEEEEEEEE before it starts to charge towards the mutant, barrelling down on Jimmy with those borns leading the chage. For his part, beneath the waves, beneath the increasing swells that roll in on the surface above, breaking over the jutting teeth of rock and coral, James will find that much of the lower part of the ship has been grinded down, battered by the current slamming it up against those same rocks over and over again. A mess of shattered timbers and virtually unrecognizable debris swirls about wildly.

As Rahne starts off up the beach and away from the offensive ocean that has won this round -- but just you wait -- Scott too thinks in the direction of the... self-assured young woman keeping an aerial view of things. << Please keep in contact with Rahne. She's starting up the beach towards the woods. >> He is a little more confident that his message will get through, but then he no doubt takes working with telepaths for granted by now.

Of course Monet might have other things to concentrate on because that movement at the treeline of the jungle becomes more pronounced. With everything going on it could be missed, but the sudden crack of gunfire from the jungle probably is harder to miss, first one shot, then a second and then a full dozen as bullets whizz past dangerously close to the flying woman.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
While surveying Monet St. Croix's high position comes with it's first real drawback. She's out in the open with no particular cover. The girl would ignore the shots; they couldn't hurt her though they might -damage- her expensive outfit. Instead she first reports to the others <<Gunfire incoming>> And giving the specific location over of the shots coming at her via telepathy. Having enough control to at least not make it a mental scream. <<Assault rifle>>

Then in the general direction Monet is going to broadcast a full on telepathic attack from where the bullets came. There's no particular finesse to it nor even that much power. Whatever telepathic potency Monet has is locked behind her lack of training, experience, and practice. But she first goes to send a sensation of raw pain and agony in the direction as best she could pinpoint as where the shots came from. Going for a raw sensation plucked from experience. Immobilzation. Prison. Cut off from everything. Darkness. Isolation. The void.

Attempt at a telepathic attack done with her limited abilities, after a few seconds Monet is going to -dive- in that general direction with her fists out in front of her in an arc to hopefully finish off disabling anyone wo had the temerity to attack her in the first place. Of course, they might not actually be hostile and could just be other individuals stranded here..

But they shot first.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue sees movement to her left and she looks past the barrel on her left shoulder to see Rahne's furry butt going in to the tree lines. "Hmm." She says then before she hears a grunt and looks back to the water to see Scott, and then James. "Hrm..." She says further before she looks back to the island... and catches a glimpse of Jimothy waving toward her.

She smirks.
The southern belle flies across the sandy shore and drops one of the kegs of beer off with the rest of her loot haul pile, but keeps on flying with the one barrel of beer in-arms. She reaches Jimmy and holds it up, shaking it back and forth, making the beer inside slosh around audibly. "Yar.... what say we get sloshed, Matey?" Rogue says in a mocking pirate voice.

Then there are gunshots, and she looks in that direction...

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne is gone. She's vanished. As if she were an animal vanishing into the woods. Given that she's one of the more easily killed soft skinned types in the group, likely a good decision. But she's also had years of training. She's circling around, scouting, and working. She has the senses, and the silence. And in the woods, she's unmatched. Let's see what we're up against.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    "I'm thinkin' Scott might not entirely approve," Says the aforementioned Jimothy. But that isn't exactly a no. He gives a nod in the direction he's walking, yet there's that sharp sound of weapons fire. It's a rough loud report that has him turning to Rogue as he murmurs, "Gunshots, let's check it out. I'll catch up." Fully expecting her to take to the air and rush off to try and give a hand.
    Which leaves Jimmy rushing through that grass, leaving a clear trail that likely would cheese his dad off something awful. Yet the young mutant only has enough time to think about that briefly before he breaks through the grass...
    And suddenly, "PIG!" He shouts.
    Which is when the critters tries to give him the bum's rush, charging straight at him, tusks flared and slashing. Jimmy is able to /spin/ to the side, his already torn jerkin tearing even more as he comes within a breath of being disemboweled by the swine. He's forced to stagger back, turning to try and keep the momma pig in view only to almost stomp right on a piglet that squeals all the more and has him snarling, "The hell!?"
    Which likely doesn't sit well with mom.

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar erupts from the water, realizing there's nothing under the waves for them. He smacks his lips and scowls, "Found the rum." He hovers in the air for a moment just long enougb for the water to sluice of his musculat form and then he moves across the water towards the shore covering the distance easily. fast enough to kick up a spray of water behind him. Jim isn't being subtle.

Scott Summers has posed:
Ahhh yes, of course events are converging. The oncoming storm seems to pick up speed, the sun blotted out as shadows fall on the island. It might not be like it is suddenly night, but it is decidedly darker, at least when the sky isn't punctuated by the sudden bursts of lightning that light up everything for a brief moment, the occasional fork lashing down out of the sky. Perhaps a little closer for comfort. It's almost possible to see dark shapes soaring around in that cloud cover -- flying shark light shapes belching lighning. No doubt an optical illusion.

With the clouds, with the lightning comes the wind, powerful gusts swirling all around them, tugging at ragged clothing and long grasses, making even trees in the jungle sway. And then, the rain. At first just a trickle. But then growing heavier.

In fairness the pig was here first. And it was minding it's own business until Jimmy came stomping along. The wild boar is fully intent on disemboweling the mutantm barelling past him a good dozen paces before it slows and stops, hearing the angry squeals of it's offspring behind. It doesn't seem to be phased by the clacking gunfire nearby, not with it's children in danger and it turns, already starting to charge once more.

And there's the rum. But really, if Scott didn't want the alcohol to come up, he probably should have used a different scenario. But it was so easy to just repurpose what was already in the system. And besides, pirates are cool. Even if Space Pirates are better then Sea Pirates. He might be biased. Either way, as James comes tearing out of the water with his prize and starts towards the frey, Scott follows afterwards, watching for now but ready to intervene.

As MOnet directs that telepathic blast towards the trees there is a loud, roaring and distinctly non-human cry of pain from the underbrush, muffled only a little by the rain that begins to pound down around them like a monsoon. But as the confident young woman begins to streak down to finish off her attacker, several of them begin to emerge from the underbrush. Rahne, of course, would have already spotted them, would have marked them and the... unusualness about them. But she's nice and hidden, watching without revealling herself. Monet is a little past that.

They would definitely be the source of the strange primate scents that Jimmy found earlier. There are nearly a dozen of them, probably about twice the size of normal apes, huge and powerful and intimidating. And they're wearing berets. Very stylish french berets. The assualt rifles they're holding are also pretty unique of unusual for the primates too, but the berets really are quite stylish. "Detruisez l'oppresseur capitaliste volant!" they shriek before unleashing more gunfire Monet's way.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Bullets flying up at her as communist apes would rally Monet would just go to try and slam her way through them, snapping back at them. "L'oppresseur volant est plus qu'heureux de vous opprimer!" The flier intent on oppressing them rather brutally if not restrained or talked down by one of the others as bullets would fly around. Some pinging off her to leave bruises. At least a couple tearing through her shirt to rend parts of it threadbare.

"I liked that shirt." Would be spoken in French in the sort of way that one might go 'and now you've made me mad'. This would have her be charging in and going to without any particular finesse to it just try and beat up each and every primate with a beret if at all possible, going to just try and swing away to bowl any of them over if she wasn't told to stand down in a rather pummeling fashion!

Rogue has posed:
Rogue hufsf at Jimmy's denial of the drinking. But she does indeed have her attention on the distant gunfire. With a WOOSH the Belle is off through the trees only to come up and out to see the French Gorillas firing at Monet. Rogue can hear the French words being shouted, and since she runs the French club at Xaviers she's all too familar with what they're saying.

"Okay, this is gettin' weirder an' weirdd--" She's cut off as the rain starts to pour down on her from above!

Rogue lifts the barrel under her right arm up to hold it over her head as she flies back down toward the cover of trees. She looks back to where she last saw Jimy only to now see him being chased by a family of wild pigs.

She sighs then and lowers down to her feet on the grass beneath one of the trees as she's now drenched, and just pops the cork on the beer barrel.

She lifts it up and starts to drink / pour it in to her mouth, some of it washing down her chin and neckline.

Glug glug glug.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    Shaking his head as the pig stamps its foot and grunts with pure porcine malice, Jimmy grimaces and hunkers down low with his arms out to the sides. "Don't do it."
    The pig grunts and oinks.
    "I'm tellin' you, don't do it."
    Another stamp of its foot, while several of the little ones run around and between them, getting clear between momma and the big bad man. It lifts its head, tusks lashing as it snorts and stomps.
    Which, in turn, has Jimmy give up with peaceful negotiations as his own fangs /flash/ and his arms snap to the sides, six bone blades slashing through the flesh of his knuckles and snapping into place with a resonant, /SHINGK!/ as energy flares, blazing power slicing over the bone claws converting them to an organic metal even as he /roars!/ right back at the hog.
    Which is when it charges. A steady thunderous thump-thump-thump of hooves kicking up dirt. Rushing at him head on and just at the last moment...
    There's a dive to the side, a flash of blades. And likely only one of them is getting up.

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar doesn't do witty repartee or banter. He's done enough of these to know when Slim is about to pile on. He takes apage from Rogue's book and pulls out a palm tree using it to swat as many simiians as posible as he moves in from the ocean.

Scott Summers has posed:
Getting wet isn't really that big a deal. It's a simple occupational hazard if one intends to do the hero thing at all, or even just stand prepared to defend one's self. Sooner or later the weather isn't going to be all that nice while doing that. The one annoyance? The driving wind means that as often as not those falling droplets are being brlow square into one's face. That is a little more distracting. One more inconvenience to deal with.

Ah battles between man and nature. Once upon a time nature was almost always the inevitable winner. Time marches on however and the balance might have tripped a little too far in the other direction. Of coursem this is more of a one on one struggle. The mother boar charges, lowers her head before rearing up, slicing at air with those dangerous tusks and... finding nothing but air. Jimmy is far more accurate however and piglets squeal as Mama Pig goes down in a bloody heap, one huge flank heaving a last time before the death rattle sounds and the squealing piglets cluster around their mama, nosing at her still form.

These aren't every day, ordinary apes. These are giant apes. With assault riffles. And talking -- in french, with breath that absolutely reeks of cigarettes. The lead two are battered by Monet, going flying back into the jungle, weapons knocked from their hands. Another quartet leap at her though, no longer utilizing their assault weapons for anything but clubs as they batter at her and curse her anscetry in various rude ways -- again, all in french.

Another squad barrels out of the treeline, heading right for Rogue, great huge hands shaking those guns overhead and filling the jungle with their roars. But before they can interfere with her James in there, battering them away. They try to regroup, swinging the butts of their rifle at him. For all the good it will do them.

And last but not least, Scott too moseys on up from the beach as well, watching with that same, inscrutable look.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The insults in French are met with more insults in French. Monet has a rather extensive vocabulary in them. It was once said that an obscenity properly spoken in French was akin 'to wiping one's bottom with a silken kerchief'.

Monet's insults are not of that particular variety. Assault rifles are used as clubs on her, leaving more bruising and battering as the group would get in good hits. She's attempting to give as good as she can, meeting metal clubs with fists, taunts, and near full power blows. She's holding back enough to -not- cripple, at least.

Presuming she can manage it, she's going to just try and bludgeon them down by one's and two's if at all possible, going for a more efficient form of attempted fighting. Going to go in for quick strikes on the torso of one opponent once she's stopped berserking and has calmed. A few attempted quick strikes at the torso, a followup punch attempted at another part of the body, and then an attempt at circling around using her flight and enhanced speed to hit from another head. She might not be Muhammed Ali nor poetry in motion (though she could recite quite a great deal of poetry). But she could hit a lot harder than a bee.

Hopefully her opponents would go down before anything uncouth happened; like her outfit taking more damage, her hair being mussed.. Or someone noticing her being so unbecoming of the burgeois.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue lowers the cask and holds it against her side as she lifts her left ungloved hand up to wipe the back of her hand across her rain soaked face and lips. She huffs out a satisfied sigh before she sees the line of marching Ape soldiers charge out of the underbrush at her. It makes her tilt her head to the side as her left hand then goes to the tree trunk beside her, her lips curling up in to a smile. She just stands there, soaked through by the rain, and beer, and waves a hand at them.

But then James takes care of them and it makes the Belle wince. "That's gotta sting." She notes.

Walking now, Rogue emerges from the trees long enough to see the dead Mamma Pig and her babies sadly checking on her.

Rogue's jaw slackens. She looks over at Jimmy with his bloody claws.

And kicks a coconut at his face!
"Jerk!"

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne hasn't shown up. She isn't visible, isn't helping, and given the situation, isn't doing her normal guerrila activities. She's trained for this kind of thing. She's done them, alongside the New Mutants team, for years! Yet no sign of wolf. Perhaps she found something more interesting.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    Rising back to his feet, Jimmy grimaces as he brushes a hand over his now blood stained jerkin. He takes a deep breath, holds it, then exhales slowly as he shakes his head. Then he points at the younglings, "Be back in a bit, bacon."
    That said he turns and breaks into a run toward the sound of the gunfire, heading in that direction as he tries to cover the distance as fast as he can. He tries to think in Monet's direction loud enough. << Be there soon in case you're in over your head. >>
    Which has him smirking a little as he knows the likely response to that. Only for in the next moment for a coconut to /whack/ him upside the head and cause him to stagger to the side as he groan with a sharp, 'Ow!' Followed by, "They're holograms!"

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar has never fought fair, nit since the first time his much old brother waylaid him on the wat home from school and broke three ribs. Hey, it's an Apache thing . But today is no exception as, after all this talk of sky sharks Jim doesn't bother fighting the apes. He simply lifts them and hurls tjem bodily two by two into the approaching storm and thr dark shapes lurking in those clouds.

Scott Summers has posed:
The storm continues to rage above the island, the sky illuminated every few seconds by the bright bursts of lightning that ripple and roil through the clouds above. The rain comes down in sheets, enough to make the ground somewhat hazardous terrain, ripe with muddy trails and shifting gravels that slips underfoot. A crash of lightning strikes a tree only a dozen feet away from the frontlines of the Gorilla warm the rumble of thunder nearly deafening for just an instant.

It was a primal battle. Man against beast. Duel to the death and all that. And Jimmy came out on top. He is the champion. Across sometimes one can't win for losing. This would be one of those times, or at least the coconut would suggest. As he strides away to engage in the -- quite literally -- bigger threat, the squeals of the orphan piglets can just haunt his footsteps.

Or maybe when the simulation is over her can go grill up some tasty assorted prok products in celebration. Either or.

The apes are strong and they are angry, battering at Monet with those oversized rifles. At least until she starts fighting smarter, more methodical. They're strong, she's stronger and in short order she is busy proving that, battering aside the defenses of that quartet, leaving them sprawled on the jungle flooor.

What goes up, must come down, right? Apparently not here. James takes clearing the battlefield quite literally, taking the gorillas that try to surround him and hurl him up at those dark and stormy clouds. Each ape in turn disappears behind that dark cloud cover that ripples and whirls with strange, unnatural shark shapes. And not a single one of those gorillas reappears. If there's not Sky Sharks in there, there's something just as bad.

And where has Rahne gotten up to? Has she found a safe little gully in which to keep an eye on things? A hollowed out log to help keep try? Have the gorillas carried her off to be their wolf goddess in the heart of the jungle? Perhaps the rest of the team will eventually find out.

And through out it all, Scott watches. Quiet. Judging. Weighing. Or perhaps he's daydreaming. It could happen. You never know. Finally his voice sounds out, cutting above even the thunder. "Computer, save and freeze program," he says, the holoprojections coming to an abrupt stop. One stands next to Monet, the twisted remains of a rifle in it's hand, face contorted in rage. Caught in exquisite detail, like an insect in amber. Frozen in time. "So," Scott says quietly, motioning as the doorway opens across the room, leading out into the halls that wind their way beneath the mansion. "We will pick up another time. But what did you learn so far? Besides how much you can drink and remain standing?" he says, a brief -- blink and you miss it! -- smirk sliding over his features as he glances Rogue's way.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The beatings to the apes done before Monet would go into the more detailed insults and she would go back to her normal passive stage of smugness. "That I had everything in hand on my part. I can't speak for the rest of you." Satisfied with her conduct and her mostly self-centered view of circumstances. Looking at the others without any particular concern. But at least she wasn't adding anything that if said would (probably) be belittling.

Rogue has posed:
When the simulation just ends. Rogue is left standing there in her wet torn dress, her hair back down behind her neck and her eyes looking around. She huffs at her cask being gone. She watches Scott walk past, and tracks him with her eyes, then turns to walk out herself.

drip drip drip.

"I thought that went really good." She says to everyone else in the room still.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    Standing there looking a touch like he belongs on the cover of a Harlequin Romance Novel, what with the torn poet's blouse, the oh so masculine tricorn hat, and that blood spatter on his clothes... he at the least seems to relax when the scenario ends. A few deep breaths are taken, then Scott asks his question.
    Curiously enough, Jimmy seems to shift manner a bit as the program freezes and Cyclops takes the time to debrief them. "I think it woulda helped if we had a command structure in place at the start. Instead of us goin' our own ways."
    A glance is given to the others as he folds his arms over his chest, "I mean we did fairly well, but I think that's mainly due to us being exceptional folk." Though he does shoot a glance at Rogue and crinkles his nose at her. Probably or the coconut shot.

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
The sudden silence reveals things. One thing, now that the room is no longer messing with people's perceptions, is that there appears to be something still making sound in the room. It's quiet, but it's there. After a moment it would be revealed, where the wuff girl got to.

And there she is, on a simulated rock, having fallen asleep. The noise is the sound of a wolf snoring softly in a corner of the room.

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar shrugs, "We have what we needed to survive, we could have done a better job of reconoitering, the apes clearly came at us from up wind and it would have been nice to set up a rain collection system. Age has not nellowed Monet and Jimmy is a piggy murderer." He grins and heads for the door taking a ball out of his pocket. He bounces it once.