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So... 1500 hours. Seven figures board a private jet dispatched from a private airfield. The destination: another private airfield at an undisclosed location just outside Seattle, Washington. Seven big personalities, seven vast skill-sets, seven complex egos. For the first few hours they have nothing to do but speak to one another, and though the bonds they form are tentative and fragile, liable to change over time, these bonds may well set the course for the rest of their relationships. And then the door at the front of the plain creaks open and a grey-haired man in a cheap suit steps out and claps his hands.  "Ho-kay. Here's the deal guys. My name is Barry Zuckerkorn and I'm gonna be your handler for a little while. I've got a call from the Brother's Crane and they uh...they wanted me to patch it through to you so if you can all just hold tight for a second." He fiddles with some speakers and then a rich velvety voice pours through. The line is fairly clear, though punctuated with the occasional burst of static. Though Zuckerkorn specifically mentioned the brothers, you only ever hear a single voice. "Barry, would you be kind enough to introduce my guests to one another, just so I know who I'm speaking to?" Barry fumbles with a clipboard, clearly not ready for such a task. "Um, sure thing boss. I've got all the, yeah, okay so...Yes. From um...The United States, good old all American boy hehehe, um... King of Fighter's tournament winner, Terry Bogard. From Tangier, Morroco, former ISIS agent Sterling Archer, ladies watch out for this guy. From Transylvania we have the kid genius, guys you best stay away from her she's way too smart for any of you he he he...no? Inappropriate, I'm sorry. Her name is Agatha Hetrodryne at any rate. Um...onto safer territory we have...oh poo poo the dog and rabbit, no offense guys...Sam and Max, the freelance police from Manhattan. That's great, I used to be a freelance lawyer...sort of. Another New Yorker, Jack, he may not look like much but my notes say he sometimes hulks out and...okay, everyone forget I said that. And finally the holy man, Ned Flanders from...location undisclosed! That's uh, everyone boss, so...guys, this is Mr. Crane." "Charmed. Now, I'm afraid I have some slightly unsettling news. Whilst I was greatly looking forward to meeting you all in Seattle, events have conspired against us. My older brother has absconded with some rather important files that we gathered during establishing this little gang, and I'm slightly concerned for the safety of some of the potential crew who didn't make the cut. What does this mean for you? Well, we don't know exactly where my brother has run to, but there are some rather unusual reports of a monster attacking people in Las Vegas leaving them paranoid and terrified, and that sounds like the work of my brother. There is a definite potential target in Las Vegas, so you will be making a brief detour there. Sorry for the incovenience, please direct any questions to Barry." There is a click and the line goes dead, but not before you hear a snippet of conversation from another voice. "If John mana..." Barry tosses a clipboard to each of you with a photograph stuck to it.  "This is Balrog. Don't know if any of you are boxing fans, but he's a pretty big deal in the sport. If you've been living under a rock for the last month, he's got a big fight tonight at The Lucky 38 casino. I'm not allowed off the aircraft due to some unpleasantness with the state of Nevada, but you need to try and track him down as quickly as possible. He's most likely in lock-down in preparation for the match, so it might be hard to get through to him before then. But it's important that you guys make sure he's safe. You see, he isn't the most...intellectual of men, and that's not a race thing." There is a long, awkward silence. "The Cranes think that their brother might attempt to trigger a deep psychological episode within Balrog in an attempt to drive him into a violent frenzy. We need to make sure that doesn't happen. Any questions?" The plane tilts and you realize you are gently descending. Something tells you that whilst this change of plan may be unexpected, it was left until the very last moment to tell you. The plane pierces the clouds and anyone who glances out the windows catches sight of the Nevada desert. What are you all feeling? Does anyone have a plan? Rules -More posts mean more screen time for your dude, but let everyone have a fair shot at stuff. -Please enclose your character sheet in the first post. -Typical PBP formatting, put your character name in bold at the start of each post, followed by their current HP, armor and Exp. Then the post, first person and present tense. Then any mechanical things in italics at the end. -We'll be using a dice rolling program. I use Invisible Castle, but anything is fine. -When I roll damage it will include your armor score. When you roll damage do NOT include armor.
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 01:44 |
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| # ? May 23, 2013 01:36 |
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Terry "Legendary Wolf" Bogard Terry takes one look at the picture and groans. "Aw hell, 'Rog. I remember that guy. We didn't fight much- I hate boxing and he hates losing." Terry rolls his eyes at the explanation of the plan. "Man, all it would take to frenzy that dude is a line of coke and someone insulting his mother. I don't see why they had to make things so complicated." pre:Good Human Fighter 2 Once per battle you may reroll a single damage roll (yours or someone else’s). STR 16 +2 DEX 15 +1 CON 15 +1 INT 09 +0 WIS 08 -1 CHA 13 +1 Appearance: Eager Eyes Tanned Skin Wild Hair Built Body 25 HP d10 damage Moves: Bend Bars, Lift Gates, BUSTA WOLF When you use pure strength to destroy an inanimate obstacle, roll+Str. ✴On a 10+, choose 3. ✴On a 7-9 choose 2. •It doesn’t take a very long time •Nothing of value is damaged •It doesn’t make an inordinate amount of noise •You can fix the thing again without a lot of effort Armored You ignore the clumsy tag on armor you wear. Signature Weapon: Unblemished Fists (Range: hand) Huge (messy, forceful) Versatile (Range: close)
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 04:34 |
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Ned Flanders quote:Second Level Cleric Ned has been looking uncomfortable ever since boarding the plane, his hands clasped on his lap nervously and his bespectacled eyes darting from face to intimidating face. Even the little girl holds an uncouth air about her. Still, when being addressed, sheepishness is next to creepiness. "As much as I deplore the consumption of soda-pop--or to speak candidly, Satan-Pop--I have to agree with what Terry is saying. Whoever is going to be forcing this Balrog fella to face the sin of Wrath outside his own control needs to be stopped before he commits any other wrong-doings, like feeding Balrog nicotine or teaching him how to double-pibbly-park!" With a vigorous fist pump to accent the evils of everyday sin, Ned returns to his resigned position, staring intently at Barry for a response. Rather Watch Them fucked around with this message at Feb 20, 2013 around 03:23 |
| # ? Feb 19, 2013 04:54 |
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Sterling Archer HP 18/18, Armor 0, XP 0 Sterling just can't take anymore, he really can't; he tries to stifle a laugh but fails. "Really? Double park, that's a problem for you? Jesus." He drains his scotch, considers asking for another, then sets it aside before beginning to buckle his seatbelt. "You're gonna love Vegas." The belt clicks into place and Sterling looks around the room, eyes finally settling on Zuckercorn. And if this guy is representing the Cranes then Archer was going to have to re-think this whole idea. This guy looks like he bought his suit at the Men's Wearhouse. During a Labor Day sale. "So, Barry," he says--a slight tone of distaste emphasizing the name--"Give. What's the Crane boy look like? He have any known associates in the area? Do we have a safehouse we can take the boxer to?" quote:Neutral Human Marksman, Level 2  Also, it looks like Sam & Max and Jack forgot to take their extra attribute point, for being at second level. Everything Counts fucked around with this message at Mar 2, 2013 around 16:07 |
| # ? Feb 19, 2013 05:51 |
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Barry rolls up his sleeves and licks his lips. He just seems kind of...unprepared. "Oh sure, I've met the Crane Brothers. All three of them. They look pretty much the same, just like, different versions of the same guy, you know? Like when ...homosexual...couples look alike, you know what I mean?...Oh God, none of you are homosexual are you? Oh god, please pretend I didn't ask that..." He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his hair, exhaling in a long sigh. "I hope League M doesn't have an HR department... Look, there are three of them, the oldest and youngest are skinny and the middle one is a little stockier. The oldest vanished for years and the other two never used to talk about him...now apparently he's back...except he's the one who stole all the files and cash and might be trying to rile this Balrog guy into hulking out," he looks at Jack. "No disrespect. So you're looking for a tall, thin guy with one of those fancy-pants faces that's all corners and sharp edges. The remaining Cranes think that their brother might have a small host of minions working for him, he has the cash, but nobody knows who his friends are or where they might be. As for a safehouse, that's not a bad idea! I'll make some calls and set something up once we land." He gives everyone a line-protected cell number. "Anyone else? We're coming in to land so I gotta get back up there. There aren't enough seats and so the heavy set stewardess might have to sit on my lap...Jesus I hope there isn't an HR department..."
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 11:37 |
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Sam and Max HP 19/19, Armor 1, XP 0 "This guy's a bundle of neuroses, Sam." "No more than you are, Max." Sam is fairly relaxed in his seat, legs stretched out as far as he can get them and seat titled way back. He spent a fair amount of the trip asleep, with the brim of his tiny hat barely covering his eyes. Max, however, has opted to stand on his seat, alternating between staring out of the window, asking repeatedly if they were there yet, and consuming as much food from the food trolley as Sam would allow him to. "To be fair, HR departments can be a doozy." Max finally sits down. "Remember the time the actual police tried to refer us to theirs?" "What happened next was YOUR fault." "Hey, if we can't use Human Resources AS resources, what's the world coming to?" Sam ignores the question, sitting up straighter to take the protected cell number. "I'm looking forward to this case, Max. Reminds me of the last time we busted an illegal cage match. That was fun." "I've always said you should go for a bout." "I prefer my face the way it is, thank you. Say, Mr Zuckerkorn, do we have any transportation to the Lucky 18 once we get off the plane, or will we have to arrange that ourselves?" quote:
The Deleter fucked around with this message at Feb 19, 2013 around 18:06 |
| # ? Feb 19, 2013 12:13 |
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Jack HP 26/26, Armor 1, XP 0  I am Jack's pounding migraine. Jack held his head in his hands. He felt like poo poo. They woke him up around 6am, dressed him, fed him and injected him with something. The migraine started soon after that. Then they shipped him off to the airport where they unshackled him and handed him a paper that said he was free to go as long as he cooperated with the people on the plane. The FBI agent standing next to him simply said "We'll be watching." Jack lifts his head, blinking against the bright light of the cockpit. He looked at everyone in turn. A couple of them he recognized. Terry Bogard he knew as a street fighter from awhile ago and that Archer guy was the dick who'd crashed a fight club one night. His eyes finally stop on the dog and rabbit looking thing. He blinked twice just to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating them. No they were definitely real. That should probably unsettle him more than it did but a voice in the back of his mind simply said "gently caress it." "Vegas? I used to know some guys down there who would do just about anything for me. Not sure what the state of that situation is now. I could make a few phone calls when we land to see if they can help us out." "It's a fighting tournament right? That's where we're going? Terry is a pretty famous fighter. I'm sure if we show up and ask if he can enter the promoters will poo poo themselves for the chance at the extra cash in. One of us could pose as his manager and then we have two people back in the lockers. The rest of us can get tickets and work the crowd." quote:Neutral Human Fighter, Level 2
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 16:03 |
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Terry Bogard Terry waggles a finger thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's a good plan, but I think I know a little more about how all this works than the rest of ya. One, I think I can get another person backstage, but only if it's Agatha, and she's comfortable wearing a tight dress. I ain't that kinda guy but this promoter probably doesn't know that. If..." Terry considers his options. Sterling? Too bullheaded to play the manager without giving away the game. Flanders... No. Only leaves one choice, really. poo poo. Terry sighs. "Sam, if you play the manager and Max my ringside coach we can get 4 of us back there. Jack can take the other 2 and hit up the crowd. That way both of us have enough people to cover ourselves if something goes downhill."
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 18:32 |
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Agatha Hetrodyne HP:14 Armor:1 XP:0  Agatha flicked her new home made device on and off. The remote would never be the same, but it was comforting to her to have a handful of moving parts. "I can wear a tight dress. As long as I have some time to dress up before hand and I don't have to go crawling around in large machines afterward. A few conditions." She let her contraption walk off of her hand and onto a small table at her elbow, allowing her to lean forward on her hands and address the plane. "I'm used to having to prove myself to everyone I come across, but I'm here, that should be statement enough. The name Heterodyne doesn't mean anything here, I understand that, I do. So understand this. I've fought against a man who single handedly conquered all of Europe and Asia save Britain. And I won that fight." She shoots a death glare at their new "handler." "And I am not a 'kid.'" The machine whirs menacingly as she leans back and takes it into her hand again. "But yes, I actually prefer dresses, so I can do that. Not tight all down my legs though, I'd like to be able to run." pre:Good Human Alchemist 2 +1 to Recruit rolls once a session. STR 12 +1 DEX 15 +1 CON 08 -1 INT 16 +2 WIS 09 +0 CHA 15 +1 Appearance: Curious Eyes Pallid Skin Greasy Hair Rangy Body 14 HP d6 damage Moves: Gadget Belt Clockwork sprocket device, Steam coil torch (Near, Pierce 1), Pressure array apparatus When on of the gadgets is used, player must define what it does and roll +INT. On a hit it works as expected and uses 1 charge. On a 7-9 choose 1 in addition to spending 1 charge •The device causes an unusual side effect •The device is damaged •the device backfires or attracts attention Geomantic Charge When you spend an hour manipulating elemental fields and ley lines, hold 3-charge Disable Device When you attempt to disable a lock, trap or other device, roll +DEX. On a 10+, you disable it easily. On a 7-9 you can disable it but the GM will offer you a choice based on suspicion, danger, or cost. Jury-Rig When you quickly fix a device without the proper supplies, tools or time, roll +INT. On a 10+, it works just fine. On a 7-9 choose one. •It'll work, but only for one more time/a short amount of time. •You need to cannibalize one of your gadgets Master Artificer When you spend an hour or so in your workshop contemplating an engineering challenge, tell the DM what you’re trying to achieve. The DM will tell you “yes, you can do that, but...” and then 1 to 4 of the following: • It’s going to take days/weeks/months • First you must • You’ll need help from • It will require a lot of money • You and your allies will risk danger from • You’ll have to add X to your workshop first. • The best you can do is a lesser version. • You'll need detailed instructions from "Construct Companion" A.k.a. "CiCi": Assistant type. Will always give you what you need the moment you need it if it's somewhere he can access. No reloading needed Gear: 5 Dungeon Rations:: (1 weight) 3 Gadgets: (1 weight) Wrench (Hand, Close, 1 weight) Bag of Explosives (Near, Dangerous, Messy, 3 weight), 3 ammo Adventuring Gear (5 uses, 1 weight) Protective Clothing (1 Armor, 1 weight) Bonds: I have shown Terry the secrets of my inventions. Ned helped me with one of my projects, I owe them. Archer destroyed one of my beautiful creations! Jack called me mad. Mad! I'll show them! Sam and Max are my personal assistants
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 19:52 |
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Terry Bogard Terry winces. Right. Victorian-esque time traveler. "I'm pretty sure that that won't be the problem you'll have with it."
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 20:42 |
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"See, look at you guys getting on so well! Yeah yeah yeah, anything you want we can sort out, clothes, tickets, transport, that's all fine. Sorry miss..doctor...professor? I didn't mean anything by it. Shows what I know. Now if you kids are finished up, time to buckle them belts. We're coming in for the landing." The plane lurches as Barry makes his way back to the cockpit compartment. The door is shut and then latched. You get the impression that you may well be handled like luggage or dangerous property a lot whilst working in League M. The plane descends towards a small air strip, little more than a straight patch of flat land with a rickety wooden observation tower at one end and a hangar or warehouse of some kind at the other. The ground either side of the approach is studded with small wooden and metal buildings, the exact purpose of which are fairly hard to tell. "Okay," Barry's voice comes through the speaker system. "Just as a precursor, all very boilerplate stuff, nothing to be worried about but the Cranes insisted I go over it. If, for whatever purpose you are killed, harmed or captured in the proccess of your operations there..." there is a disconcerting bark of alarm from the cockpit. "What the hell is that?" Then a crash. Then the entire plane is shaking and there is smoke billowing from one engine. "Oh Jesus, someone just took out a wing! We're going down! gently caress gently caress gently caress gently caress!" a voice, possibly the pilot's, screams. The aircraft jerks and flails helplessly as it makes a bee-line for the ground. There is a whoosh and those of you still looking out the window see a bright red missile arcing through the air mere inches away from the craft. It spirals around as it tries to get a lock on and then explodes in mid-air. Various sires ring. "Hold tight!" Barry screams. And then the plane hits the ground. Metal and plastic scream and flake away like ash from the end of a cigarette. Jets of burning fuel squirt through the air. Razor-sharp scraps of detritus tear through the body of the plane and shred the opposite wall to ribbons, ripping deep gouges in the metal. There are screams, roars, hisses, and then the sirens fall silent and the air becomes painfully quiet. "Oh Jesus," the speaker whimpers. "Oh Jesus, someone just...gently caress...did you see that?" "Yeah over by, there's another one!" "You see that?" A figure moves past in a blur and a window shatters. There is a loud popping from behind one of the structures and a blob of what looks like melted plastic, loops through the air and lands with a splat just outside the door. You see a red dot dance across the length of the strip. Then an unfamiliar voice comes through the speaker. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize for the somewhat rough landing there, but I cannot allow you to try and intervene in my very important research. In the very unlikely condition that you are in any shape to exit the aircraft before you are consumed by the flames, be warned who it is you are dealing with. I have hired, at no lack of great expense, an entire squadron of assassins. This League M business is foolish, go play somewhere else. It is a pity that none of you shall survive Team F's attack to tell me how it feels to experience Such. Intense. Fear. Farewell!" "That's the oldest Crane brother, for sure, I'd know that voice anywhere," Barry moans. "drat it! Team F are one of the strongest private hit-squads in the Western Hemisphere! Nine of the most accomplished assassins in the world! Get out there and deal with them, and for God's sake, try and stay low!" That's when a tall, built man with an army helmet pulled low over his face runs from behind one of the nearest buildings with a rocket launcher atop his shoulder. He aims it for the plane as he charges towards you. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" "Jesus!" "Okay, everybody out right now!"  You're in a burning plane. There's a hitman aiming a rocket launcher at you. There are nine assassins out there, each with a different skill set. Looks like this is what your life will be like from now on. Go get 'em
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 00:39 |
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Terry Bogard Armor:1 HP: 25 0 XP Terry's mood noticeably brightens. "I was tired of planning anyway!" Terry grabs a nearby piece of debris and forms a shield. "Hey, c'mon c'mon! Let's move!" With a feral howl, he begins to charge at the visible assassin. Defy Danger: 2d6+2 11
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 01:23 |
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Sterling Archer HP 18/18, Armor 0, XP 0 "Oh, my God," Sterling mutters to himself as he extricates himself from his seat. "Are you kidding me, with the letters? 'League M,' 'Team F.' Jesus." He crouch-stumbles his way out of the plane, somewhat dazed from a hard knock he took on the way down. He moves past the others without slowing to see if they are okay. Stepping out of the ruined plane, he pulls his pistol from inside his suit. "Well, I got a letter for you," he mumbles, looking around the field. There's only one target in view, so he draws a bead on the hitman with the rocket launcher. "It's your letter... of resignation. No, wait. That's awful. Your letter... oh, hell with it." With no clear shot, he moves away from the plane, eyes only on the hitman. Finally he gets an opening and fires. A bloom of blood bursts behind the rocketeer's right shoulder and Sterling mutters another curse to himself--he'd wanted to hit the rocket. Volley at Soldier (2d6+2=8) 1d8=4
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 03:04 |
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Ned Flanders 17/17 HP, 1 Armor, 0 XP Upon hearing the wing news, Ned instinctively clutches his head with both hands and tucks down into his lap. A careful listener will hear him whispering Psalm 138:7, "Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life; you stretch out your hand against the wrath of my enemies, and your right hand delivers me." He repeats this verse several times until the heavily-armed man enters the passenger area. At that point, Ned gives a shrill cry and runs toward the rear of the plane, broom draped over his head in fear. Finding cover behind a small wall near the lavatory, Ned preps his broom bristle-side down to beat away any potty-mouthed assassins. Defy Danger +DEX (2d6+1=13)
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 03:34 |
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Jack HP 26/26 Armor 1 When the plane started going down, Jack could only smile. It was like a dream come true. Explosive decompression, all the air draining out of his lungs, no oxygen masks on this flight, just pure unadulterated terror and carnage. He looked at the others, things were moving in slow motion almost. As his eyes darted over them he thought for just one moment he saw a familiar face sitting strapped in and smiling right back at him. Tyler waved and then disappeared. Jack felt a growing pit of dread in his gut and his smile was suddenly gone. The shot to the neck suddenly worried him a lot more than it did before. Then it was chaos and crashing and screeching and everything came to a blinding and painful halt. He listened to the voices but they didn't make a lot of sense suddenly. He felt like he was going to black out but fought it off and focused. One guy with an RPG and eight others unaccounted for. The RPG was worrisome and in an enclosed space like this it would make burger out of everyone. No, outside was where he needed to head if he had any chance to survive. Without thinking he unstrapped his belt, and opened the emergency exit. Tyler would say something clever here he was sure. He jumped out and saw Bogard go screaming towards the guy with the rocket launcher with what looked like the cabin door in his hands. Then Archer started mouthing off and popping off shots. Jack decided it was best to look around and get a sense of where these other eight guys were. Discern Realities (2d6-1=5)
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 06:33 |
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Sam and Max HP: 19/19 Armor 1 XP 0 Music "Holy airborne alpacas carried aloft by the gentle caress of the north wind! We're under attack!" "It's like Christmas!" Sam and Max spring into action, drawing their pistols and rolling into cover against a less twisted section of the plane wall, between them and the incoming hitman. "What have we got, Sam?" "Well, judging by the brief glimpses, we've got a fast guy, a sniper and a decidedly crazy explosives expert. That's only three out of nine. Max, go protect Mr Flanders. He's going to get himself killed if he goes by himself, and we don't want our spiritual and emotional core dead so soon." "Consider it done!" As Max dashes off, following Flanders, Sam peers out of a window, musing to himself. Explosives made it dangerous to stay, but the sniper and the speedy one made the flat terrain outside even worse. Looks like their best bet was to bunker down and see what came at them. Defending the airplane: 2d6+1 11 Holding three...
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 09:46 |
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Terry, as you charge towards the approaching enemy there is a burst of smoke and light and then a twenty five-thousand dollar rocket is tearing through the air towards you. Without so much as a flinch, you duck and side-step the projectile, knocking it off course with the chunk of debris. A few more steps and the Soldier is directly before you, clearly somewhat surprised to see you there. "Goddammit Son, that's some fancy footwork you got there but IT WILL NOT SAVE YOU!" He levels the rocket launcher directly for you, at which point there is a crack from behind and Sterling's bullet explodes into a bloody mist in the Soldier's shoulder. He cries out in pain, sending another rocket flying completely off course. There are now two rogue projectiles in the air, and it doesn't take more than a glimpse to realize that neither match the one that took down the plane... Ned, panicking may not be the best strategy, but it may well be justified in your case. Fortunately the rest of the team are already leaping into action all around you. Maybe, some day, you'll learn to be the lion rather than the lamb from these folks. Until then, rushing to the other side of the plane serves you well. A few moments later one of the rogue missiles drops out of the sky, void of fuel, and lands mere feet from the section of the aircraft you were stood in moments before. Jack, you run out of the downed plane just in time to find yourself next to the explosion site as the missile erupts. You hear the beginning of the bang and then everything is dark for a few seconds before you wake up on the other side of the field. A few seconds later Sterling lands with a crunch beside you. Neither of you take any long-term harm (you were actually pretty far away from the explosion, it just felt real close), but you are now segregated from the rest of League M. You are only just recovering your faculties when a figure clad entirely in rubber steps from behind a structure. "MMMFR FUMMMGR GMMF DMMMF!" He cries through a thick black gas mask. And then you realize the long metal weapon clutched in his hand ends in a stick with a small blue flame coming from it. Which means it is a flamethrower. Which means you need to do something... Sam, as your partner follows Ned to the back of the craft, leaping in small bouncy jumps, you are left protecting the craft proper as the explosion goes off. You briefly consider taking the brunt of the explosion yourself before remembering its only cats that get nine lives. Still, with Terry on the Soldier it shouldn't be long before he is down. There is another POP and a wad of sticky plastic loops through the air towards the plane. What do you do?
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 11:48 |
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Terry Bogard Terry grins as he closes with the confused soldier. "Wanna fire at this range and see who lives? I'm gonna bet on-" With a series of thuds Terry's fists give the soldier a lesson in hand to hand combat that he won't soon forget. "The king of the ring, buddy! BURN KNUCKLE!" With a vicious body blow the soldier slams into the floor. "Izzat all you got?" BURN KNUCKLE: 2d6+2 14 godaaaaaamn. Forceful lets me knock him on his rear end Damage: 1d10+2 4
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 12:39 |
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"At this range? Hard to tell, son, but even if you make it I'm willin' to bet you get a whole world of pain!" Terry, you pull back your fist then burst forward, plunging it deep into the Soldier's stomach. There is a burst of light and then the Solider is flying backwards, his rocket launcher discarded on the ground. He hits one of the structures, bounces, and comes to a rest on the ground. One down. Eight to go.
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 13:23 |
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Terry Bogard Terry waggles his finger at the fallen soldier. "Attack: F! Defense: F! Technique: F! Overall grade: F!" K Prime fucked around with this message at Feb 20, 2013 around 16:23 |
| # ? Feb 20, 2013 16:19 |
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Sam and Max HP 19/19, Armor 1, XP 0 Hold: Defend (1/3) Plastic? Why would someone fire... plastic... explosives. Ah, that explained it. Maybe? Weird way to apply explosives. Sam didn't have many options. He couldn't stop the projectile from hitting the plane - it would probably only hit him instead, and he really didn't want to become a smear on the ground. Likewise, he had nothing to dampen the effect. The best he could do, therefore, was to fire back. "Eat lead, punk!" Sam's trusty revolver barks as he fires back in the general direction of the weapon's source. He didn't have time to line up a proper shot, but he might at least clip whoever it was lobbing these sticky shots at him. Spending Defend hold, one for one, to: "Open up the attacker to an ally giving that ally +1 forward against the attacker" "Deal damage to the attacker equal to your level" 1 Hold remaining Meanwhile, Max is regaling Ned with a few stories of their crime-busting past to cheer him up. It isn't working.
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 16:39 |
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Agatha Heterodyne HP:14 Armor:1 XP:0 "Whatever that plastic is, it can't be good! And there's no way we can stay in here forever." The crackling of the fire accompanies her words as she viciously kicks the suitcase she had laboriously dragged on to the plane with her and stashed under her seat. "Rise and shine CiCi! I need some parts!" The suitcase whines and begins to unfold on its own into some kind of human sized robot as she takes cover next to Sam. "Any chance of us getting to cover in one of these buildings? Maybe a little more out of the range of fire? I'm guessing the dot of light is from a sniper, but with the rocket launcher down we may have a chance if we can distract him." The robot has finished unfolding and trundles over on its four mechanical legs, hissing slightly. "P-P-Priority of equipment Mistress?" Utters a mechanical voice. "Something reflective, something strong." The robot doesn't reply, instead moving with surprising speed around the cockpit, gathering materials which Agatha quickly starts jury rigging into a makeshift reflective shield. Jury Rig: 2d6+2 7 Agatha winces at her handiwork. "Well, it should block one shot at least."
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 17:03 |
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Terry, your victory is cut short as you are suddenly aware of a red dot hovering over your eye. poo poo poo poo poo poo. You look down to see it on your heart. Time to move. You glance to the left, a corridor between structures that looks safe enough, but you know that the plastic explosives were launched from vaguely that direction. There is a gunshot from behind you and a yelp of pain as Sam manages to ricochet a bullet into the arm of the Demoman launching the sticky bombs. "Ya bastard dog!" he cries, clutching his arm and momentarily falling into Terry's view. To your right a similar corridor only poo poo THERE'S SOMEBODY THERE. The figure moves so fast they don't seem to break stride as they stop and run in reverse, ducking around the corner. And there's still a sniper's dot on your chest. Moving into the open seems to have left you a little trapped. Time to move. Terry, you take +1 against the Demoman Agatha, with the help of your robotic companion you manage to construct a workable, if not perfect, shield. It should certainly making crossing the opening easier, but at a second glance it appears the structures are inaccessible. The only structures with entrances are the warehouse at one end of the runway, and the observation tower at the other. As you glance up you catch sight of a figure in a cowboy hat, his rifle aimed directly for Terry. Looks like the tower is where the sniper is holding up.
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 17:43 |
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Jack HP 26/26 Armor 1 Jack rolled over and looked up at the freak in the fireman outfit. The flamethrower in his hands was even more worrisome than his outfit. Realizing he had to move quickly he rolled up to his feet and jumped at the flamethrower guy. Attacking the Pyro (2d6+1=13) He grabbed hold of the arm holding the flamethrower and gave it a twist, at the same time bringing his foot up into the guy's balls. Damage Roll (1d10+1=11) The guy doubled over and from the muffled sounds behind his mask he was howling in pain. "Really a loving flamethrower?"
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 18:02 |
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Terry Bogard Armor:1 HP: 25 0 XP When in doubt, be aggressive! The same principle applies in the ring or in a battle. Terry jams his makeshift shield in the general direction of the sniper and charges the distracted Demoman, leaping into a vicious flying circle kick. "CRACK SHOOT!" The heel of his foot slams into the poor man's head, right in his good eye. "AWRIGHT!" CRACK SHOOT: 2d6+3 13 Damage: 1d10+2 6 Yeah I'm posting a lot. I might be busy later today so figured I'd get this done
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 18:15 |
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Sterling Archer HP 18/18, Armor 0, XP 0 As he comes up Sterling is coughing, but the coughs cascade into chuckles. "That was awesome. Is that what they teach in your little cancer group? Man, I shoulda gone more often." He starts brushing off his suit, then stops, frowning. "Oh God drat it. It tore. You idiots owe me a new suit," he says to the mewling gimp. "Italian silk doesn't grow on trees, you know." He steps forward and fires three times into the man. "So," Sterling says conversationally, turning to Jack. "Cover?" Volley Damage (1d8=3). Marking off an Ammo.
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 22:14 |
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Jack HP 26/26 Armor 1 Jack looked over at Archer and smirked "Yeah that's what my "Cancer Club" was about. Something you might have understood if you hadn't shown up drunk, and spent the entire time on the phone telling all your friends how awesome Fight Club was. Then you challenged Tommy the guy with only one arm and one eye to fight you. Honestly you're lucky I took the fight instead because Tommy was ready to kill you. He's got a killer right cross." "As for cover, yeah that's probably wise as I'm really not sure who else is out here."
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| # ? Feb 20, 2013 23:14 |
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Jack, the Pyro is anticipating a whole lot of moves. You run back, he chases you down. You go for cover, he cuts you off. You try and negotiate, he melts you where you stand. You take cover behind Sterling, you both go up in smoke. What he is NOT expecting, is for you to get between the end of his flamethrower and his body. There is a split second of realisation and then he is dropping the flamer and going for a well worn fire-axe strapped to his back. You never give him the chance. Crunch. Throb. He is Jack's busted balls. He goes down HOWLING, though through the muffled screams you hear the phrase "Mfffr Fghffr!" a lot. You are surprised that he doesn't die from the sheer force of the attack, but this is quickly rectified by [/b]Sterling[/b], who pumps three holes into the rubber suit and leaves a dead body on the tarmac. However, just as you are about to go for cover, a small, red metal box is tossed in front of you. It clicks and unfolds into a tripod. Shafts move, grease flows, belts of ammo feed through into the extending telescopic barrel. Two missiles identical to the ones that downed the plane load into place. "Hoooeee, you boys in a poo poo storm o' trouble!" a deep southern accent cackles from behind the structure. Sir, I say, Sir. Y'all gonna wanna make a defy danger roll! Terry, you raise your shield and drive with all your might. The sand between your feet explodes with a sound like a high-pitched gnat singing a single note, then you hear the crack from the end of the runway as the snap of the Sniper's near-miss rolls on the air towards you. It was way too close, but still, no harm done. Now you're covered. You get some pay back by forcing your mercifully still attached foot into the Demoman's good eye. He falls back, grabs his wounded face and runs, firing a trail of plastic explosives in his wake. You can chase him, but if you trail him it means running over his bombs. Moving to another alley risks losing him but is...PROBABLY...safer. Or you can do something else. Sam, Agatha, Ned, the fire in the plane is spreading rapidly and things are starting to get dangerous. If you want to stay boarded then you are going to need to do something about it. Otherwise you need to get out.
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 00:08 |
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Sam and Max HP:19/19, Armor 1, XP 0 "Everyone out of the plane!" "Aw, but Sam, I haven't told Ned about the -" "MAX! Out now! "Aw, you guys are no fun." Not checking to see if the others respond to his shout, Sam jumps off the plane on the southern side, Max following. Both sprint for the nearest piece of cover, Sam clutching onto his silly little hat with one hand. Whether or not they make it... Defying Danger (Dex) to reach safety: 2d6+1 5 Of course, they're moving too slowly. Sam doesn't like running much - he's a little pudgy, okay?! Since Sam is no longer defending the plane, I'm dropping his Defend hold. +1 Xp from the failure.
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 00:55 |
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Terry Bogard Armor:1 HP: 25 0 XP Terry considers his options. Safe alleyway. Dangerous chase. Aw, what the hell. With a running start, Terry hurls himself down the corridor after the injured Demoman, jumping off the walls as much as possible to minimize contact with the danger zone. "AWWOOOOOOOO!" Defy Danger: 2d6+2 8
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 01:12 |
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Ned Flanders Noticing the fire spreading, Ned removes his hands from his ears (to mute out Max's stories, see) and adjusts his glasses, hearing what he interprets as the sounds of screeching and muffled cries for help. He follows after the demon rabbit, screaming in his most heart-felt falsetto and trying as hard as he can not to be snatched by any red-clad Satanists. The hell that hath been brought to this plane is making Ned grasp for the embrace of the Lord now more than ever as he looks down at the runway and jumps. Defy Danger +WIS (2d6+2=9) With a leap and a "Geronimo-torino!" Ned throws himself out of the plane and attempts to reach Sam's position, for Sam's remarkably dog-like face can help him calm down. Since Sam appears to be winded, however, Ned's options are widening at the worst possible time.
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 03:49 |
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Sterling Archer HP 18/18, Armor 0, XP 0 "Oh, poo poo," Sterling says, and lashes out with a side kick. It catches the barrel as it's telescoping, and spins it off to the side. Gyroscopes whir as the machine tries to correct itself but by that time Sterling has skipped behind it and has grabbed the trigger assembly. "Go!" he shouts to Jack. "I'll try to keep this off you!" He gives it a tug, fighting the rig as it tries to track its current target: Jack. Defy Danger (Dex) (2d6+2=10), and operating under the assumption that it's automated and primed to go after non-Team F personnel.
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 04:21 |
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Agatha Heterodyne HP:14 Armor:1 XP:0 Agatha had been planning to give Ned cover during the mad dash, but his sudden charge took her unprepared and she didn't have the chance to so much as give him the shield. Grumbling with annoyance, she spares a moment to secure it to her arm and order CiCi to follow Flanders and assist him before leaping from the plane and making her own danger defying rush, angling the reflective surface of the shield to make it that much harder to aim at her with laser sights. Defy Danger: 2d6+1 5
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 04:59 |
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Sam, you try and make a break for it across the runway, but you're a little slow moving and when the flames licking around the plane finally make it through to a main fuel line, the resulting explosion sends you flying. You vault a few structures, spinning through the air towards the ground, trailing smoke. As you come in for what will no doubt be a painful landing, a blur of motion leaps atop one of the structures and smiles at you as he draws a baseball bat. "Yo, batter up!" he screams, swinging for you and catching you in the stomach. Fortunately the bat actually cushions your blow, dealing only 1d6-1=1 damage. You collapse to the ground, winded, but not too badly harmed all things considered. The Scout vanishes. Agatha, is less lucky. As she makes a charge for cover, she simply doesn't have the speed. She risks a glance to the observation tower as the plane explodes behind her, and sees the Sniper staring her down through his telescopic sight. Then a snap on the tarmac and her leg is burning with pain. It appears the bullet only lightly scraped her shin, but the wound is bleeding heavily and the pain is intense. She takes 1d6+1-1=5 damage. Ned, as you make your way towards Sam you see Agatha take a nasty shot to the leg, and the sudden burst of sound and blood is enough to send you screaming. Years of charity fun-didly-fun and fund runs have left you in pretty good shape, but they didn't prepare you for anything like this. You panic, run in the wrong direction, and get a little disorientated in the maze of structures. You're unharmed for the time being, but suddenly alone. Terry, planting your foot against one structure you launch yourself over the top and into the adjoining aisle. Unfortunately as you plummet back down to earth you find yourself facing a patch of ground entirely drenched in melted plastic. Looks like the Demoman anticipated your plan! Fortunately you manage to duck, roll, jump and spin your way out of landing, instead coming to earth somewhere else. You've momentarily lost the Demoman, but you won't be lonely for long. A shadow falls across you and your lightning reflexes come in to play. In the air behind you the incredibly fast Scout, wielding his bat sails towards you cackling. Sterling, your fancy footwork (haHAha) leave you directly in control of the automatic sentry. It whirs and hisses with an almost sentient annoyance as it attempts to spin around and catch you, then as it tries to gun down Jack. You hold on with all your might as the gears and cogs grind. It fires off a few warning shots in an attempt to make you let go, but your will is strong, plus you kind of have a thing about anything mechanical with intelligence. However, you suddenly find yourself between a rock and a hard place when an Engineer in a hard hat approaches with a single-bolt shotgun in hand. "Weeeell lookee!" he says, cocking the gun to attention. Everyone, remember that the damage scores I give you already include armor modification, so the number you get is what you need to take off from your HP score.
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 12:26 |
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Terry HP: 25/25 Armor: 1 XP: 0 Terry readies himself against his faster foe, and prepares to meet him head on. Isn't the first time he's had to face a faster opponent, or even a weapon wielder- there was that one little poo poo on Kim's team back in the day... With a leap, he drives his shoulder firmly into the Scout's chest, slamming him further upwards, then with a vicious downward blow slams the Scout to the floor. "GET DUNKED!" Messy and forceful = Scout just hit the ground hard. Also, goddamn my rolls are on fiiiiire ATATATATA: 2d6+2 10 Damage: 1d10+2 11
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 12:45 |
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Jack Before Jack could fully understand and react to the appearance of a gun turret Sterling had managed to grab a hold of it and was forcing it to swivel around like crazy popping off stray shots. Jack reflexively ducked and stepped away from the barrel as Archer tried to get a handle on the thing. He nearly bumped right into the guy with the hard hat and shotgun. Like the other guy, this guy decided to start running his mouth instead of pulling the trigger. Hesitation is what usually costs people fights. Jack didn't hesitate he just smashed his fist into the guy's face. Punching the Engineer in the face. (2d6+1=6) The guy was quicker than he looked. He turned just enough that Jack's hand bounced off his hard hat. He leveled the shotgun at Jack and suddenly Jack's world erupted in pain.
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 15:20 |
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Agatha Heterodyne HP:9/14 Armor:1 XP:1 "Agh!" Panting and stumbling Agatha makes it to cover, clutching at her wounded leg. "Oh man, Zeetha is going to kill me. She will find a way to get to this dimension, see that I have been shot, kill me, and then make me run a hundred laps with a boulder. Then maybe kill me again if I'm lucky." Swallowing air, she looks around for a moment, taking stock of where she ended up. Hopefully nothing would charge her before she managed to at least get to one of the others. Discern Reality: 2d6 11 What is about to happen? What should I be on the lookout for? What here is useful or valuable to me? Alora fucked around with this message at Feb 21, 2013 around 16:21 |
| # ? Feb 21, 2013 16:10 |
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Sterling Archer HP 18/18, Armor 0, XP 1 Sterling's in a perfect position to shoot Hardhat, but he doesn't dare let go of the turret long enough to take the shot with his Walther. Instead he tugs the turret around to aim at Hardhat, hoping it will open up automatically while also looking for a manual trigger. Unfortunately, while trying to examine the gun, he's unable to figure out any of its complicated machinery. Discern Realities (2d6-1=6) Everything Counts fucked around with this message at Feb 21, 2013 around 21:27 |
| # ? Feb 21, 2013 21:22 |
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Sam and Max HP 18/19, Armor 1, XP 1 "Sam! Are you okay!" Samn grunts and struggles to his feet. "I'm okay, Max. A little winded, but nothing serious." "Man, who was that jerk? I'm gonna rip his ears off if I catch him!" Max's fists clench and he hops from foot to foot. "I'll feed him his own toenails!" "I'd like to take part in that delightful little torture, but we've got bigger concerns! There's still a bunch of crazy hired killers out there!" Sam looks around, peering down the corridoors formed by the structures. "Who knows what could jump out at us from the shadows?" "Quit expositing and do something, then!" "Alright. Here, give me one of your grenades, the longest licorice whip you have, and some superglue." Whilst Sam busies himself with preparations, Max readied his Luger, watching the various entrances for signs of their comerades. Sam and Max are currently preparing an ambush, and are counting on danger finding them!
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| # ? Feb 21, 2013 22:28 |
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| # ? May 23, 2013 01:36 |
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Terry, the Scout falls towards you, legs flailing and bat swinging. It seems like the last thing he expects you to do is meet his ridiculous assault head on. Plunging your shoulder deep into his unprotected stomach, you send him flying into the air, then drive him hard into the ground. He hits the tarmac with a grunt, his baseball bat snapping in half from the sheer force. Earphones blasting crappy metal crunch and shatter across the ground as the Scout's moans turn to gurgles and his broken body goes limp. Terry Bogard - killing machine! Jack, you throw a powerful punch, but the Engineer is just a little quicker. He tilts his head and buries the barrel of the shotgun in your stomach. As your knuckles hit the steel-reinforced plastic, the shotgun explodes into your gut. It's painful. Really painful. Whatever the dude is using, it probably isn't meant to kill humans, otherwise you'd already be a smear on the floor. Instead you are blasted back against the wall, taking 1d6-1=2 damage and leaving your thoroughly winded. He cocks the shotgun and smiles. "Hoooeeee boy, that must hurt like a sonnabitch!" Then he notices Sterling messing with the innards of his sentry. His eyes narrow behind his reflective goggles. "Wooooooah there, didn't your ma ever tell you not to mess with another cowboy's machinery?" He opens fire on you, causing the sentry unit to explode in a burst of sparks in your hands and dealing 1d6=2 damage. Then he is gone, retreating through the structures. Not too far away you hear another sentry opening and becoming operational. "Come get it varmints!" Agatha, despite the pain in your knee, you manage to make it to safety. Now you're facing the crisis of what next. You see a body clad in red suddenly bounce into view a few aisles over, then fall back down, so it probably wouldn't be a terrible idea to head that way. -What is about to happen? Glancing down one aisle you see the Demoman loading his weapon with gel-coated explosives from a pack at his waist. He points the launcher at the structure and SPLAT the base is coated in explosives. Looks like he's going to try and draw someone into a trap, probably whoever just launched the skinny body of the Scout into the air. -What should I be on the lookout for? Glancing around you, you realize that there is plastic explosive almost everywhere. If you want to get past and get through to the Demoman, or get away from him, you're going to want to watch your step. -What here is useful or valuable to me? It's funny how sometimes the right thing just falls into your lap. You glance around for sign of anything useful and are about to conclude the area is completely empty, when the wreckage of a gaurd sentry falls into your hands. The wires are spitting sparks and the mechanics are partially jammed...but it looks like gifted hands could get it up and working again.... Sam, just as you finish putting the final touches to your grandly prepared plan, the ground beneath you begins to shake. Something heavy is approaching. From around one of the structures steps a monster of a man, clutching a monster of a gun at his waist. The term minigun has never seemed so innapropriate. Crazed blue eyes glare at you from above a flat nose and stubbled chin. "Time to die leeeeetle puppeeeeee!" he says as he stomps towards you. As he pulls the trigger the barrels of the giant gun begin to spin, gaining pace before the belt of ammo is fed through and turns you and your lugamorphic companion to low-grade veal.
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| # ? Feb 22, 2013 00:08 |
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