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Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

Should be an update tomorrow. In the meantime, here's the sitch.

pre:
Places
------
Gray Ferry
 -Independent settlement
Market
 -Find drat near anything here
 -If you're slick enough
 -Sansa "protects" this place
 -But they're chafing
 -And Puck might be their champion
Miller's Hill
 -Dick, but probably not anymore
 -Mostly burnt to the loving ground
North Shores
 -Weird Statues
 -Ship Graveyard
 -Stranded Reef
O'Malley's Respite
 -Bordertown between shores and forest
 -Toyman
River Delta
 -Dockhouses
 -Spare Parts
 -Bullets and such
Wolf Mountain
 -Radio station
 -Sethro
Wrecks and Wracks
 -Eastern Shores
 -Sansa Merci's hold
 -Hraesvelgr prison ship

People
------
Alexi, bold, more stupid than brave, stood up to Dick (M) [Unknown] - unseen
Badman, wandering killer, knows the numbers (M) [The Island]
Bagel, one of Sansa's crew, an excellent shot (F) [Wrecks and Wracks]
Bean, Puck's gangmember, probably savvy, getting to know Sethro (perhaps Biblically) (F) [O'malley's Respite]
Bear, Dick's gangmember (?) [Now What?]
Big Sven, contractor (M) [The Island]
Black Dave, Dick's gangmember, mediocre medic at best (M) [Now What?]
Blonde Josh, Dick's gangmember, Sue's ex, general rear end in a top hat (M) Killed by Dick: shot in the head
Bonner, runs Gray Ferry (M) [Gray Ferry] - unseen
Boo Boy, got an interesting brain (M) [Wolf Mountain] - unseen
Boots, Dick's gangmember, owed some bike work by Sethro (M) [Now What?]
Charly, leader of Jo'nsun cannibals (M) [The Island] - unseen
Chicago, does murders (M) [River Delta] - unseen
Chloe, Dick's #1, buys drugs from Sansa [Now What?]
Danny Boy, Dick's gangmember, photographer, mechanically inclined, handsome (M) [Now What?]
Doug, namesake of O'Malley's Respite (M) [O'Malley's Respite] - unseen
Dovefeathers, thinks he's hot as gently caress (M) [River Delta] - unseen
The DZA, best doc around (M) [O'Malley's Respite]
Fabio, Blonde Josh's kid (m) [Unknown]
Glen, Dick's gangmember, decent shot, chill, a younger guy (M) [Now What?]
Graham, Dick's gangmember, older, limps, hates fire (M) [Now What?]
Gregor, Sansa's right hand (M) [Wrecks and Wracks] Killed by Puck's gang: knife in the vitals
Hardy, owns a boat (F) [River Delta]
Jeet, possibly delusional, definitely ambitious (M) [Wolf Mountain]
Jin, Dick's gangmember (?) [Now What?]
J.L., in Sansa's crew (M) [Wrecks and Wracks]
John Henry, "human fuckin' locomotive," Dick's gangmember, with Sue (M) [Now What?]
Keeler, rational (M) [North Shores]
Larry, hauls poo poo, gives rides, good in with Ebbs (M) [The Island]
Lightning Jack, leader of the Kell gang (M) [The Island]
MacElhoe, sells spices among other things (M) [Market]
Mario, Dick's gangmember, violent (M) [Now What?]
Nimzovitch, in Sansa's crew (M) [Wrecks and Wracks]
Noodles, Dick's gangmember (?) [Now What?]
Partridge, missing a couple fingers, honest (M) [The Island] - unseen
Piggy, young guy, parents eaten by cannibals (M) [River Delta] - unseen
Puck, gang leader, into it with Sansa over Market (F) [O'Malley's Respite]
Sally Sledge, no fucks to give (F) [O'Malley's Respite] - unseen
Scrappy, a tough guy (M) [Wolf Mountain] - unseen
Sue, now she rides with John Henry, last seen badly hurt (F) [Unknown]
Small Bart, small, member of Puck's gang (M) [O'Malley's Respite] - unseen
Zeb, wheeler-dealer, works with Ebbs, made a good deal with Sansa, good in a fight [The Island]
?, got weird-rear end eyes, member of Puck's gang (F) [O'Malley's Respite] - unseen

Captain Foo fucked around with this message at 03:41 on May 9, 2014

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Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

Session 2 begins, unlike last time, at dusk. The day has been unusually humid, but the rain falls as the sun does, bringing a cool relief to the Island. The still-smoldering remains of Miller's Hill sizzle and steam, if anyone's still there to hear or see. Tents find their holes, the dry dirt turns to mud. Rain. Not out of the blue, no, but it doesn't rain here often. This evening, it is.

This evening, Dick's up in the North Shores. Not really where you were hoping to go, there's not a ton here. But Puck's crew, well, they had a bit more to say about O'Malley's Respite than you anticipated, huh. Engines idle. Glen's been shot, though not bad. Not as bad as Noodles. Chloe's on edge, sweating, nervous. Graham's white-knuckle as always. Mario's still angry about what happened in the Thick, angry about backing down from the Respite, just angry (but he's probably in the his most normal state of mind out of anyone). Danny Boy's been very quiet, unenthused. Everyone's fuckin' unhappy. And now here you are, on the North Shores, together with the weird obelisks and statues...and the grumbling. What do you do?

Sethro, Bean gets up, straps her gun back on, and sighs. She has to go, she explains. Work. Real work. No, she says, she doesn't really know what it is. Puck's business. Probably less-than-pleasant work. She smiles, that's not why she's annoyed. She'd rather stay. But you can't ignore Puck, that's how life is - matter of fact. Things were happening. Four Nine Two. She looks at you again, gets a mischievous grin. "I bet Puck would be down with someone with your savvy, Sethro," Bean invites. What do you do?

Ebbs, you proved your worth to some of those in the Wrecks and Wracks, taking care of Sansa Merci as much as she'd let you, and digging up some old useful poo poo where the boats had already been left for the gulls. Some aren't having it so well, figuring who the gently caress are you to swoop in and take charge. Either way, Sansa's paying you decently, you haven't been here long enough to take work like this on your own buy-in of what she's got going on. Zeb's been mostly good on his deal, bringing Bagel's rifle and your new pistol. Surprisingly, he explained, he found extra drugs. Of course, this had to be after Chloe drove by, but he found them. He also said he made a decision based on what he found; you were all out of it and Ebbs didn't know about the terms. Kept a few of the shirts, they were real interesting, thought you might really dig a thing he found in the wrecks. Easier to sell off the shirts to other people. But that was over the past few days, and Zeb's disappeared again. He'll be back soon enough, it's too profitable not to. Sansa, though, as you and Ebbs sit in the tent discussing business, whatever it may be, Nimzovitch enters, all beaten to hell. That afternoon's tax trip the Market went...poorly. What do you do?

StringOfLetters
Apr 2, 2007
What?
Dick is going to open his mind to the Maelstrom.

'But Dick,' anyone in their right mind asked, 'What does that mean?'

It's like this; the Island has gods. Not like, capital-G, thou-shalt-not gods. Older than that. Big spirits. Ancient things, older than anything we know, with sway over the Island in subtle ways. They're weird and inhuman and hard to understand. There's a reason that, after we started up the west side militia, we found a cargo container with thirty pristine fuckin' Harleys in it. There's a reason that we keep on winning, even when the odds are against us or someone's got the drop on us. The reason is that someone is looking out for us - for me, in particular. One of them liked what I was doing, or maybe even nudged me toward my path in the first place, and has been watching over us.

The obelisks and statues - they were built for the gods. I don't know who made 'em, but I'm sure of that. This little spot on the north shore is, I guess you'd say, sacred. Easier to hear 'em up here. Maybe their Will is the reason the Island is left and the rest of the world isn't, or maybe they're what's cutting us off from another island somewhere else. Beats me.

I tell Mario to head off and find us a wild hog or something - we need to eat, he needs to cool off, and I'm positive he'd feel better if he killed something. Then I take a seat next to a big chunky obelisk, and listen to the sound of the waves rolling in. The noise of surf on a beach is holy to them. I let it wash over me, feel it resonate with the stone beside me, tune out from the world and tune in to the other stuff.

And - it's all in my head - but it's like I'm standing in ankle-deep sea water, mud underfoot, but there's no shore behind me or anywhere in sight, and the sky is black like a cloudy night. I ask the spirits, who started that fire? Did I piss one of you guys off? Or was it one of us mortals? Because I'm'a hunt that fucker down, if so. And sometimes they don't answer. Sometimes a thirty-foot-tall man rises up from the ocean in front of me, wreathed in fire and steam from the ocean that he's boiling with his fury, brown-skinned, ripped as hell, tattooed with glowing spirals, with four arms, a bloody loin-cloth and a wooden mask that looks like a lion. And sometimes it's someone else - or the same guy, in a different form. I stress that I don't loving know how it works.

And it never gives me a straight answer. Sometimes it points to the horizon or up in the sky and shows me some weird-rear end fever-dream scene that's like, a hint. Or roars at me 'til my metaphysical fuckin' eardrums bleed and calls me a fool, and then I'm like, yeah, I know man, that's why I'm asking you!

Weird: Who start the fire?: 2d6-1 6

It can be pretty intense.

But hey, maybe I'm just schizophrenic as hell. I've read about those, I kinda fit the profile. Ain't like we got a brain doctor around to make sure either way. So I'm sticking with, 'I'm a part-time champion of some primal god.'

StringOfLetters fucked around with this message at 04:50 on May 9, 2014

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

The gods, the Gods, are on the beach, were on the beach, are worshiped on the beach, by you? or by those who left them, by those who built them, by nobody at loving all and they're just rocks? maybe it's really raining fire, a firestorm of hate consuming the Island, maybe that's what happened to Miller's Hill but that's no use as an answer is it? fire doesn't fall from the sky you've been here long enough and there's people that've been here longer and nobody's ever seen that poo poo so it makes no sense for it to happen now, and so what else could burn the fire? gently caress you you're not finding out the gods say though it's what's consuming you and your gang, the gods, should they exist at all? are capricious but you know that already so instead your thoughts leap unbidden from the fire of consumption to the fire of passion drat hell that wasn't what you wanted but your lover dances across your mind, like they had so many times before, the gods awaken? or awaken in you? and they ask you to describe your lover, they ask your heart and your brain, maybe they will provide you with answers about the fire you want to know about if you'll answer theirs, maybe? if you're lucky and you could use some luck, nobody would consider you lucky these days, or maybe someone would? the firestorm swirls and while the gods know what a firestorm is they don't know what you think a firestorm is, maybe tell them how it doesn't char or how clear and blinding it is? the firestorm, it IS real, it is NOT real, it IS and will be and has been, and people dip in and out, or do they get stuck? maybe you'll never know, get hosed, the gods don't care, or maybe they do?

Dick, when you get control of yourself again, it's been a little while. Rain's still raining, it's a little darker. More importantly, Black Dave's doing his best on the wounded, but there might be more. Mario's roasting his catch - maybe it was longer than you thought? Someone's arguing with him about shares of food, guns are drawn. Boots and Jin and Mario are waving pistols and rifles, shouting. Answer the Maelstrom's questions, and then what do you do?

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis
Ebbs

Normally he wouldn't be working for someone like this, but he could see trouble coming. He would need back up. Being a part of Sansa's crew would give him that. And a steady pay check. That'd be good too. If things got bad, he knew he could head back home.

During the talks with Sansa, he mostly listened. Sansa paid the money, he'd listen to what she had to say. When Nimzovitch came in, he looked over, but said nothing. This was Sansa's show.

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

Ebbs, you think you can go back home, but how's all your poo poo staying safe?

Bear Enthusiast
Mar 20, 2010

Maybe
You'll think of me
When you are all alone
Sethro

"Ohhh Puck, are you cool?" Sethro lets this out with a sigh as he laces his fingers behind his head and shuts his eyes. "Listen Bean, you go do your work just tonight, I'm not gonna get in your way but you gotta know that I can't get involved. Unless she just needed something fixed I guess, but even then...gah." He takes in another long breath as he knows she's still just grinning at him. She knows him a little too well for such a short time.

"How about you bring her around the studio sometime, maybe me and her can chat. If she ain't big on that maybe I'll stroll down the market or wherever. For now I'm not too big on the whole sitch."

What does Sethro know about the whole situation with Puck?

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

Sethro, what do you know? You are the one three seven information hub of the Island if 38 anyone can parse the things you spew and if you know what you're talking about with those numbers (maybe you do, maybe you don't but Bean thinks you do, and she thinks she might) point being I don't want to tell you what to think but unless you spend a lot of time at the Market or the Respite without Bean, she's your main source of hard info about Puck. And I know you haven't made the trip to W&W in the past week. So I don't know what Sethro knows or thinks, but I know what side of the story he has. --MC

"Puck got no time to dance around here," Bean says ominously before slinking out into the dusk. "Last call," she half says, half implies with a glint of her eyes. You can catch her if you want, but otherwise, there's storm falling in the night to deal with. Lightning crashes.

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009

Sansa

Sansa stands up out of bed, wincing a bit. "Nim! poo poo, what the hell happened?" she asks, though really she pretty much knows. She tests her feet. Yeah. This'll do. It hurts, but what else is new?

"gently caress it, brief me on the way. We're going in fuckin' force this time."

She carefully thumbs rounds into her shiny new magnum. "And hell's fuckin' coming with us."

The W&Ws fighters fall into step behind her as she emerges. Ebbs can come or no, its his call. But it's time to make a point.

The makers and scavengers that support all this turn and watch them go. They've not seen this in a long time. It bodes ill. But not for them.

Gang War: 2d6+2 10

Holding three. A week of bed rest hasn't improved 'er temper. At all.

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

What actual Move are you invoking here?

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009

Leadership. Just getting the metaphorical orders in a row for use during the upcoming confrontation.

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

Sansa Merci, tell me who your vanguard is, tell me who your rearguard is. Or are you pushing all in, and not leaving anyone at the fences?

Bear Enthusiast
Mar 20, 2010

Maybe
You'll think of me
When you are all alone
Sethro

"Ah poo poo." I'm just gonna let her go. Sethro opens his eyes, gets up, and steps over to his desk, setting the headset down.

"gently caress, man." I"m just gonna let her go. Sethro leans down, grabs his crowbar, then heads to the door.

"Hey I'm right behind you!" And he's out the door.

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis
Ebbs

Best way to avoid someone breaking into your place and stealing your poo poo is to not have anything worth taking. Someone might go and wreck what's there, but reacting to that act of aggression only benefits the person doing the wrecking. Ebbs living where he did was out of convenience. Right next to the shore meant that he was closer to the flotsam and jetsam that washed up. If someone decides to take over his home, then they're going to get a rude awakening when Ebbs decides to come home. It won't be unexpected either. Ebbs made sure anyone coming to his place knows its his. He even left a sign saying, "Ebbs lives here. If he's not here, he'll be back. Trespass at your own risk."

He'll be joining Sansa in her war.

StringOfLetters
Apr 2, 2007
What?
Dick

Jesus fuckin' christ, The Maelstrom, you ask a lot of questions, don't ya?

Let's try to address those, then.

I wouldn't call what I do 'worship' or anything. I don't really think big lion-fire-face would give a poo poo if I praised him or not. If he came down and said, 'hey Dick, why don't you be a pal and cut a few goats open for me?' I'd probably do it. But, he hasn't, so.. whatever. Someone, maybe a long time ago, was in communion with the same spirit-poo poo when they set the freaky stones and statues up. Got some of the same swirly symbols on them as are tattooed on lion-face's swole-rear end god-chest.

'maybe it's really raining fire, a firestorm of hate consuming the Island, maybe that's what happened to Miller's Hill but that's no use as an answer is it? fire doesn't fall from the sky you've been here long enough and there's people that've been here longer and nobody's ever seen that poo poo so it makes no sense for it to happen now, and so what else could burn the fire?'

Okay. So if the firestorm's a metaphor for like, human conflict - that's been burning 'long as the world's been turning. And if you're implying that someone started the fire because they're pissed off, that's what I guessed.

'gently caress you you're not finding out the gods say though it's what's consuming you and your gang, the gods, should they exist at all? are capricious but you know that already so instead your thoughts leap unbidden from the fire of consumption to the fire of passion drat hell that wasn't what you wanted but your lover dances across your mind, like they had so many times before, the gods awaken? or awaken in you?'

Alright, fine, whatever rear end in a top hat. My guess is, no, they shouldn't exist, but they do, so... shows what the gently caress I know. And, I think about loving someone or something at least once every five minutes of my life, awake or no. Ain't surprising that it creeps into my spirit trance or whatever this poo poo is. If that isn't obvious, it's because I have some basic loving self-control.

'and they ask you to describe your lover, they ask your heart and your brain, maybe they will provide you with answers about the fire you want to know about if you'll answer theirs, maybe?'

Huh. Only one you could properly call a lover was Kate. She was my kid crush, we were together for like, four years, we said we were gonna get married which is about as official as it gets, it was all sweet as hell, blah blah blah, soulmates, yadda yadda, true love, then she died in a random, pointless act of violence when were were nineteen. Pretty much swore off all that 'heart' poo poo after that. Ain't doing it again. Call me repressed, I think it's the best thing to do with the kind of life I lead.

Lately I've been loving Lara, if that's what you're getting at. She's pretty much everything I'd want in a partner - fuckin, smart, confident, dark-rear end sense of humor, eager to cut through any and all bullshit. The twist is, she's basically a loving sociopath and, after stalking me for a while, custom-tailored all her mannerisms to cater to me. I picked up on that, and called her out on it one night. She looked impressed, then fessed up to it - 'yeah, I liked what you were doing with the place, and wanted to get on board. What are you gonna do about it?' And I said, 'Roll with it, I guess,' because if you can fake being a totally together bad-rear end, you pretty much are. She rides with the rest of us, at present.

'if you're lucky and you could use some luck, nobody would consider you lucky these days, or maybe someone would?'

Hell yes I'm feeling lucky today. Any one you can walk away from is a win. We lost a bunch of poo poo and some food, but that's a little setback. Anyone thinks we're screwed from a little goddamn inferno like that, they've got their eyes on their feet. I see a bigger picture.

'the firestorm swirls and while the gods know what a firestorm is they don't know what you think a firestorm is, maybe tell them how it doesn't char or how clear and blinding it is? the firestorm, it IS real, it is NOT real, it IS and will be and has been, and people dip in and out, or do they get stuck? maybe you'll never know, get hosed, the gods don't care, or maybe they do?'

You... you lost me. It's either like a rain storm but with fire instead of rain, or a metaphor for people gettin' pissed at each other. The gods care about something, I'll bet, otherwise they wouldn't fuckin' bother with anything on this Island, but it sure as hell isn't our happiness or well-being.

~

I step up in between the shouting assholes and gently push someone's barrel aside. I say, "Holy poo poo, guys. Chill the gently caress out. We're on partial rations for now. Deal with that. Mario killed that..." I lean over, look into the roasting creature in the fire, and sniff at it. "The gently caress is that? Baby llama? Whatever. Mario killed it, and cooked it, so he gets first pick of the cut. You think you're gonna be hungry later, then you help out with dinner next time. Catch a drat fish or something."

I turn around - the conversation's over, I said the bottom line - and look out to sea. Gray sky's nice. The sound of rain on the ocean is a good sound. Makes me feel all calm and centered and poo poo. I wish more of these guys would take a moment to get that, but telling someone to shut up and feel one with the Island is not how you make it happen. S' gotta come from within.

I announce that, after we eat, we're going to gather our poo poo, mount up, and head along the east coast. Figure it's as good a time as any to check for wash-ups. And then, we do it.

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009

Sansa

Sansa's crew splits into 3 and 1. Well, the leaders, anyway. The Geddons. The Riders. Guess that makes Sansa God, or the Devil. Not that she much cares which right now.

Bran takes the left flank. He's a big man, but always scary light on his feet. More'n one foe has found their last breath cut short by a blade in the back, wondering how a 6' 4" mountain snuck up on them. He favors the machete, or the shotgun if pressed. Always likes his kills more personal, he says.

Karlie walks with Bran, holding his arm in a possessive sorta way. They're... well, they're just plain weird. Wears a mask 'cause it keeps the voices out, or so they say. Not much of a fighter, themself; but they know things, and they tell the men, and the men don't die. So they get to lead, 'cause 90% of being a leader is making your men not die. If attacked, they favor Bran. If Bran's busy, they like a little bullpup SMG they picked up somewhere for a song and a knife in the back.

Doris Day is a bombshell, all right. Pretty and short and skinny, a lot of people think she's prey.

Well, lot of people wind up dead. Bombshell, see.

When Sansa wants something destroyed, utterly and forever, it's Doris she goes asking for. Lady loves fire, and explosions, and most of all the screaming. Dangerous don't even begin to cover it. Keep far away from D-Day, or you're next on the BBQ rig.

Coffin ain't very sneaky, or much of a fighter on his own- he's coughin', y'see. What he does, is he makes things. And they're nasty things- bombs that make D-Day chew off her nails in bright-eyed anticipation, knives that make Bran a little happy and a lot scared, strange statues that give even Sansa the heebs. He don't leave much, which means he ends up in charge by default a bunch. People respect him. He's kind and fair and nice.

Unless you press. Then the things get used on you.


Coffin's stayin' home with his 10, as usual. The other 30 or so, they're marching. D-Day's poutin' because Sansa said no burning the market down (despite being mighty tempted), but she's still on the up and up- someone's gonna be screaming today.

"Yeah," Sansa says. "There's gonna be fuckin' screaming all right."

Ebbs can stay, or he can go. She's not makin' him do a drat thing. But there's stuff to be had, on all the corpses, if he comes.

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

And the rain falls across the ocean, Dick, a light sea breeze pushing the cool rain into your face as the small, hungry waves slosh into the shore a few yards away. The squabble dies down, for now. You've still got their attention and respect. And hers, at least until you don't. The crackle of the fire gives way to the hiss of rain, and then the sizzle of piss on the fire, and finally it crumbles and dies, buried under a load of sand. Fitting, really. Many things have died in the sand, and only few get deliberately buried. Many more would die and be buried, forgotten. The Island erases all, in the end. Or does it? Maybe the gods remember, in their firestorm, watching, waiting. But thoughts of that are interrupted by the rev of engines. Chloe's raring to go. So's the rest of them boys and girls. What fuels them may not be clear now, but your command is issued and will be followed. Drive south, along the east. See what you find. Maybe shelter? Ain't no rest for the wicked.

Certainly no rest for Sethro. Maybe he's not wicked. Maybe he is. Maybe wicked don't mean a drat thing on the Island. As it is, savvyhead, you're having an impromptu job interview. Bean brought you along, gambling that Puck would find a use for you. Bean doesn't say much, probably not much of a gamble. Puck seems to think pretty highly of your skills, or what she's been told of them. She eyes you up and down, behind one scarred eye and the cloak and arms of a growing baroness. She's dangerous. She wants to know if you are. You're in the secret dug-out basement of one of the many nondescript shacks in the Respite. Puck knows you carry a crowbar. Are you gonna use it? She gestures to the door, Vince opens it and Bick throws down a bound-up prisoner. Bean explains the situation. Jody was caught selling some of the gang's ammo stash. That'd be bad enough, but she was caught selling to a Dubber, as Puck calls them. She draws her weapon, as do Vince, Bick, and Bean. But they stay pointed at the floor. Puck calls to you, Sethro. You've got a weapon, use it. Jody isn't leaving here alive. You can.

The more literate of the Wrecks and Wracks contingent might recall the lost words of an old poet, from before. "Riders on the Storm," the poem begins. And while there may be more, that is all Sansa Merci, Queen of the Wrecks and Wracks needs to know. Bran and Karlie leading the left column. D-Day on the right. Sansa, you yourself and Ebbs lead from the front and center. Everyone's strapped to the gills. Whatever arms, knives, bullets, grenades, whatever you've got, bring it. The Market dared stand, and the Market would be pacified. Your crew marches, Sansa, out of sync but of similar mind. This is the closest thing to an army that exists on the Island. Out past the palisade, Coffin coughs a salute as he and his team will hold back whatever comes to challenge. If anything. Coffin might get bored, and that's no good either. A couple of lewd songs are sung. Down the road. Often dusty, tonight it's a bit sticky, muddy. No stealth here. The entrance to the Market approaches, around a bend. Something's off. The main archway, a minor detail built of old wood, is blocked. Several trucks block the way. And then the blinding floodlights bang on. Someone's waiting for you, Sansa...What do you do?

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis
Ebbs

Maybe, just maybe, Ebbs thought, this is a bad idea. He wondered if he should have just hightailed it back to his place on the coast and hunker down. Run away and fight another day. Too late for regret. Now was time to push forward and put a hurting on anyone in the way.

Ebbs looked at the barricade and started to figure out his options. He didn't see any. Someone set up the barricade and was ready for Sansa. It seemed like they were up poo poo creek without a paddle. He waited to see what Sansa wanted to do next.

]Read a sitch: 2d6 5

Bear Enthusiast
Mar 20, 2010

Maybe
You'll think of me
When you are all alone
Sethro

Sethro goes a little slack jawed and his body straightens up, his eyes dancing between Puck and the person on the floor. He feels how loosely the crowbar is in his hands, he's not exactly a warrior y'see. It's pulling downwards and would be likely to clatter to the floor if he wasn't sure that noise might result in him coming to harm.

"I...uh. Wow. Puck uh. gently caress, man." His mouth can't make the words he needs. If words are going to save his rear end he's going to need some betters ones than stammering and profanity. He blinks rapidly for a few moments and makes a concentrated effort to not look down, to just try to lock eyes with Puck. He clears his head: Nineteen. Fifty four. Seventy Nine. Twenty Seven. Ninety Eight. Sixty. Seven.

"Listen the crowbar here," he idly lets the weight of it swing his arm, lazily bumping against his leg, "it's a tool. Sure some bad motherfucker might smash someone upside the head with it but to me it's just a tool. For the jingle I blew on this I could've easily got a little nine mil or somethin', but I chose this. See, I'm a little like this crowbar. Bent, tougher than it seems in a scrape, but at the end of the day I'm just a tool." He takes a heavy breath in and lets it out with his finish: "I'm just a tool. Use me for what I was made for. Right now you're using a caliper as a hammer." Leavin' out the part where you're having said hammer bash in somebody's head...

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

I found this. Click for huge. --MC

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009

Sansa

Sansa looks at the barricade. Idly finishes chewing... something. Spits it out on the ground.

"Y'all gonna splain why you're in my road, or am I gonna have pick the answer off yer corpses?"

Read the Sitch: 2d6+1 12

• which enemy is most vulnerable to me?
• what should I be on the lookout for?
• who’s in control here?

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

Puck waves a hand towards Bick, who was stepping to. He relaxes. Bean's stonefaced. Puck speaks. "Call it Quality Assurance, Sethro. I know what you do. Don't know how you do it, don't really care." She shrugs. "I'm not telling you to lead a raid. I wouldn't do that, it's not useful in any way." Puck breathes in, breathes out. "I'm telling you to execute a prisoner of mine." A questioning look crosses her face. "Ours." Vince scratches his neck.

"Not 'cher road, Sansa," a voice calls out from behind the lights. "Turn around. You don't own this road, you don't own this market." The lights are nearly blinding, but through the harsh halogen and dripping rain, you can see a flicker of movement behind the trucks. One shakes, looks like at least one fighter's mounting up. But if there's anyone still driving, well, you can blast them easy. "All you had to do was get the hint. This island isn't yours. It's all of ours." A rumbling is heard from the rest of the force, sounds like at least this group is on the same page. "And the merchants here ain't paying you no more, we'll take care of our own." She sounds confident. You're hard, Sansa, but she's not scared of you, despite your reputation. Or maybe she doesn't know it, but that seems unlikely. "If you want to talk, my name's Sally Sledge. You want to fight, I got - we got - no fucks to give." Sansa, though, what you need to consider is that this...whatever this is at the market arch, might not be the whole story of tonight.

Ebbs, maybe the light catches you wrong, or your eyes were too dark adjusted. You're basically blinded, not how you want to be in what seems likely to be a mess. You'll be Acting Under Fire to do anything but talk.

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009

Sansa

Sansa opens her mouth to lash out, then stops. Breathes. "Y'know, I've been doin' some readin' recently. Y'should try it. You learn a lot. Like about names, and stuff."

The Dame comes up. It's a nice weight. Sansa makes a note to thank Zeb later. "Like the bit where I don't give a gently caress 'bout you. D-Day. Fuckin' burn that driver."

The bark of the magnum is barely heard over the sound of the roar of the W&W, finaly free to do what they love best. Something deep inside Sansa cringes at the sound, knowing what it means. But anger runs hot where plans fail, and there's one man dead and one man hurt that Sansa intends the whole world to pay dear for, right now. In a while, she'll be back to mending fences. Building something. But every creator has a destroyer lurking inside. Gregor helped keep it in, but where's he now? Jesus has left the building; it's all Old Testament now.

To her right, the cackling giggles of D-Day on the loose are heard, along with the crackle of fires and the inevitable screaming. That truck looks like its burnin'- might not be good to be near. On the left, Bran's just gone, as usual. Someone will find him. If they're lucky, before they find a knife in their chest.

Dame speaks, and glass shatters. Sansa aims deliberately, leaving just one. She steps into its circle of light.

"I know someone put you up t' this! I bet I know who, too! Those of you who live, which will be precious few t'day- go back and tell 'em that my conscience is dead. Tell 'em that I'm going to eat their hearts. TELL 'EM I'LL FUCKIN' poo poo ON THEIR CORPSES!"

The roar from the W&Ws is almost deafening. There's that cringe again. But that part of Sansa ain't running the show right now. It'll be back when the fires burn out and the bodies are well and buried.

Spending one hold to have the gang Make a Strong Advance

Seize by Force: 2d6+2 7
• you suffer little harm
• you impress, dismay or frighten your enemy

Bear Enthusiast
Mar 20, 2010

Maybe
You'll think of me
When you are all alone
Sethro

Sethro winces at the 'ex-' word and in his heart he knows that he's done. In his brain's heart he knows he can't kill this scrub-rear end random in front of him. Absolutely can not. This whole meeting was a terrible idea in the first place, and killing someone would just be the icing on the bogota cake.

"Well this might not be the freshest piece of information, but I ain't doing this." He opens his arms up and lets them fall to his sides in a show of absolute matter-of-factness. He doesn't turn to leave, just continues standing in place. He occasionally looks to Bean as if she could do something meaningful to help besides give him a few happy thoughts in a time of great crisis. Haven't known her that long, but there's a few thankfully.

With a shrug Sethro is resigned to either being embarrassingly let go or being 'ex-' worded himself.

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

Bean draws another pistol from somewhere, flips it around. Holds it out, grip towards you, Sethro. "You can shoot her if you want," she offers, not expecting you to take her up on it. The three other gang members watch with tense interest.

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis
Ebbs

Time to talk was over, time to fight wasn't here yet. Ebbs knew right now his best course of action would be to find some cover before the shooting started. He couldn't let the light deter him from finding a safe place. Unfortunately there just wasn't any cover to be had. This fight was gonna get ugly real quick. He looked to Sans and hoped that he could at least help her.

Ebbs hosed up his act under fire roll.

Act under fire: 2d6+2 7

I'd like to help Sansa with whatever she does next. Hx+3 I believe.

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

7-9 isn't a miss, but here's your bargain. You can get into position to help Sansa on her next roll, or you can get into position to stay safe and plan your next move.

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis
Ebbs

Pondering his choices, he decides to go with the one that would help Sansa even if it meant he had to put his own rear end on the line.

Bear Enthusiast
Mar 20, 2010

Maybe
You'll think of me
When you are all alone
Sethro

Sethro slowly shakes his head, "Shouldn't have followed you here Bean. I'm sorry if this is your life, it ain't mine." He turns and heads back towards the entrance, giving her a glance back before settling on where he's going: home.

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

Sethro, roll Act Under Fire.

Bear Enthusiast
Mar 20, 2010

Maybe
You'll think of me
When you are all alone
Sethro

Act Under Fire: Toodles!: 2d6+2 8

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

Puck sighs, almost groans, then waves a hand to Vince. Jody strains for the first time since she got thrown down the stairs, pulling against her binds and gnawing at the gag. Then she stops, as a few of thiwps from Vince's suppressed gun. Her corpse silently bleeds into the dirt floor as a radio crackles at Puck's hip. "Shots fi--" and then it cuts out. "Explosions. They're here, went from zero to wacknut in no time at all." A radio? Bean winks. But that meant something, obviously, as the Bick and Vince head up the stairs rapidly. Bean spins and holsters her pistols, deliberately not looking at you, Sethro. Then she follows up the stairs, stepping over Jody's body. Puck leaves last. She's almost stepping onto the stairs before looking back. Almost as an afterthought, she turns back. Her gun is not suppressed, and then you're bleeding with your ears ringing. But she didn't stay to finish the job, that's gotta be a plus. Roll +armor on the Something That Could Kill You table.

And the Market Arch turns into a battle site almost instantly. Sansa, your aim is true and you end Ramos, a bullet right between his eyes. That's the least of the problems at the trucks, as the Molotov cocktail that J.L. tossed consumes another. Watson bails out of his truck, right before Ivan guns him right down. Then the technical's fuel catches and the thing goes up like a torch, smoke quickly filling the air. A few more of your crew fall, Sansa; Broadside and Pajack are torn to shreds by automatic fire. But D-Day gets to her target, and holy poo poo that truck's gone. Everyone's deaf for a few moments, in the Market del Omar dies messily, torn basically in half by shrapnel from whatever D-Day did. Bran's a whirlwind, in a minute's time he's gutted Ella and Collins. Bullets fly, and even Ebbs drops a combatant, ventilating Emmack with his 9. Poor bastard's vest didn't help him at all. He probably bought it at the Market. Oh well. Bullets and grenades fly for minutes. The constant chatter of supersonic cracks and small explosions is impressive, thrilling. Sally Sledge, from somewhere, calls from a bullhorn to the Market defense force. "Yeah, they're bringing the heat. Don't let up n--" and she's cut off by an another explosion. D-Day's having herself a day. Night. Whatever. The Wrecks and Wracks crew is pushing the line, with the hulks of the blocking trucks smoking. Only a couple still stand, one light still flickers. Eerie shadows fall over Sansa and Ebbs, leading from the front and center, bullets flying. But Ebbs looks vulnerable...

Elsewhere, Dick's gang rides down the Northeastern coast, tired and hungry (though less hungry than before). In the distance, Dick, you can see the smoke and lights of the fire and fight. Looks like it's coming from the Market, or maybe even the Wrecks and Wracks. A group of a couple of your gang, Lara and John Henry and Noodles speed to the front before spinning their bikes, forcing the convoy to a halt. Noodles is up and speaking while John Henry struggles with his helmet. Lara just stares, sweetly, dangerously. Noodles says what possibly more are thinking - "Just what the gently caress are we riding into now? A war? We're not outfit for this, god drat."

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009

Sansa

Sansa looks across the field of carnage and nods, satisfied. "Right. Time for me to end this. C'mon, Ebbs- lets deal with a motherfucker."

She pauses to awkwardly pat D-Day on the back. "Keep on... keep on doin' whatcha doin', hon." D-Day grunts in acknowledgement as she fiddles with a fuse. Somewhere in the chaos, Karlie shouts for some folk to duck.

Sansa strides off toward the voice of Sally Sledge as the hammery lady tries to rally her troops, ducking behind cover, but moving, steadily, ever closer.

Act Under Fire: 2d6+1 7

Preliminary: spending hold 1 to continue to press the attack, unless Ebbs does something funny that I'd rather have them support.

K Prime fucked around with this message at 01:13 on May 20, 2014

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis
Ebbs

It was time to get excessively violent. Ebbs nodded to Sansa and made his move up to the wall. While Sally Sledge was trying to rally her troops Ebbs was gonna see about ending this fight. Best tactic in a group fight always was killing the leader. Take out the leader and that usually took the fight out of the other opponents. Ebbs knew it was a long shot, but he took it anyways.

Seize by Force: 2d6+1 11

Unsure of what happens now. I want to go and kill Sally Sledge or get close enough to get into a fight with her.

Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

What are you seizing?
This is one of those times subtleties matter. Are you trying to get in her face? That's Act Under Fire or a Help for Sansa. Are you trying to take control of the situation? That's Seize By Force or AUF depending on your way of going about it. Neither you nor Sansa can directly, intentionally act directly on Sally Sledge right now, you don't know where she is.

Captain Foo fucked around with this message at 19:25 on May 20, 2014

Bear Enthusiast
Mar 20, 2010

Maybe
You'll think of me
When you are all alone
Gettin' Shot: 2d6 8

I'll go with Bleeding Heavily, MC gets one or two from Pain.

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis
Ebbs

"What's the plan boss? I'm ready for whatever you need me to do."

Assisting Sansa.

Assist Sansa: 2d6+3 9

StringOfLetters
Apr 2, 2007
What?
Dick,

I ride up to them, tilt my bike, and rest a foot on the ground while I try to get a better look at the scene. Fight's already going on. I correct Noodles, "An opportunity. Yo, Glen! Hey, Glen, get up here, gimme that binoc."

I wave him up, he comes, and I try to get a better look at who's fighting who. While I'm loving with the focus knob, I say, "We're either going to be the cavalry and someone's gonna owe us the world, or wait this out and pick up the pieces. Let's see here..."

It's that self-appointed 'queen' of wrecked poo poo, Sansa and her crew, trying to shake down the marketplace again. They're a little like us, but the W&W crew tries to strangle out trade ('their' marketplace, my rear end) in addition to keeping peace in their territory. And Sansa's an egotistical rear end in a top hat, way more than me. I never tried to make anyone call me 'king.' Not sure 'bout the guys holding out inside - maybe they're taking a righteous stand, maybe they're worse.

I'm not crazy about the idea of anyone 'owning' the market. Nobody set it up, it just grew. A thriving market is good for everyone, and trying to stomp down on that is an enormous pain in the rear end, not to mention unwise.

Still... out in the open, taking cover but with their backs to us, and sandwiched against a barricade - this might be a great time to deal with those wrack-holes. Or, if the other gang left their back door open, roll in and show her up hard.

Sharps: Read a sitch: 2d6 7
Which enemy is the most vulnerable to me?

If Sansa's got 'an armory which is sophisticated and extensive,' and her entire gang is out here, would they have left anything good behind? Or is that only extensive enough for all of her crew to get something? I know I don't have like an inventory of their stuff, but if they've got a huge arsenal, I figure word might've gotten out.

edit: Mis-read, clearly not the entire gang. Much less excited about raiding a fort with anyone guarding it, even if it's understaffed.

StringOfLetters fucked around with this message at 20:42 on May 21, 2014

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009

Some of my gang is still guarding the base- you could probably take them in time but there's enough of them that it would be risky.

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Captain Foo
May 11, 2004

we vibin'
we slidin'
we breathin'
we dyin'

The fog of war is thick. Rain and ash fall on Sansa and Ebbs, pressing their way to Sally Sledge. Charlie, a merchant, fires a shot from his old pistol. Flies right over your head, Ebbs. Surprisingly, it pops Otis right in his head just as he's gutting Memphis. Bran stomps a mudhole into a couple of fighters who'll probably never get identified as D-Day blows another somethingup. Problem with that explosion, though, it's way too close. Thankfully, Sansa, Ebbs is between you and the blast, so he takes the worst of it. Ebbs, as the blast wave slams into you, you do notice that the two of you have spotted Sally Sledge, shouting orders and shooting W&Wers. Roll +armor on poo poo That Could Kill You. Sansa, Sally's doing both with equal effect, equal brutal effect. She drops two of your crew, Nine-Eleven and Zimmer with two shots each. The shock of D-Day's blast is attenuated by Ebbs's body, but getting blown up still fuckin' sucks, you know? You take a-1 forward. The blast gets Sally Sledge's attention, and she spots you. However, you can see her pull the trigger to no effect. She's either going to have to switch to that slung shotgun or reload. You, on the other hand, have a nearly fully pistol. What do you do?

Sethro, you come to on the floor a few minutes later, staring into the dead eyes of Jody. At least you're awake, though it's going to be hard to piece together just what happened here tonight, if you ever do. Must have hit your head. It's hard to push yourself back up, and you leave a puddle in the dirt. You're a mess. Crowbar's here for the picking up, if you want it. What a lovely night. At least, you think it's probably still night. gently caress, did that hurt. What do you do?

Dick, your gang is clearly not happy about pressing an attack right now. That being said, your gang is clearly not happy with sitting around in the rain watching their dicks shrivel up and their tits hang low. Whatever decision you make, it's going to be fuckin' unpopular, and you're just gonna have to deal with that. Moving the gently caress on, it seems you have two options. If you appeal to your gang's brutal, wild side, you'll have the best luck driving right into the battle and raising all sorts of hell. poo poo's on fire and exploding, bullets flying and knives whipping. Get crazy, get weird, get nasty, and you might just score yourself some scrap. You go for the appeal to calculated, concentrated, discipline and goals, trying to go right up the Wrecks and Wracks' half-defended rear end in a top hat might be better. While you never know who they've got back there, you know the Queen herself won't have deigned to stay, and that's a huge advantage in and of itself. poo poo's quiet(ish) and you'll have the cover of falling night, though motors are loud. You get through their palisade, past their towers, and there's definite loot there, but then you're in the teeth of the enemy should the vanguard return. What do you do, Dick? You and your gang are almost out of gas, literally and figuratively. No more time to waste.

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