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Rather Watch Them
Mar 28, 2012

Don't worry loves! NEED A CAVALRY HERE!


Rane

Grant finds a parking space back up the road while the group disembarks. Sophia running off to socialize makes Rane want to vomit.

Instead, she turns to one of the local memorials for any sign of the Queen's touch.

Overcome with Notice:

(Krysmbot) RatherPhony, --//+4 = 2

Y'know, KINDA.

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Tempus Rimeblood
Sep 23, 2007

...Friendship? Again?

The Shores of the L'Thium

ARTIF.EXE, the WUB begins its scan, and you notice two things. First, there's a lot of perfume in the air here - a scent that the WUB can't actually identify, it seems to throw off any chemical composition detection. It appears to be concentrated in a series of trails, though - it looks like whatever caused this scent has gone to and from the shore of the lake at least four times, extremely recently.

In addition to that, though, a surface-level topographic scan shows that there are footprints correlating to that - and with how fresh they seem, they can't have been left more than twenty minutes ago. In addition to that, there are indentations in the lakeshore that look almost like someone took a knee beside the lake. Perhaps this was where the Queen went to do her mourning...

Sophia, however, does not have as much luck in her endeavor. The people here seem scared - whether it's her commanding presence, the Metal regalia, or just her overt friendliness, they all seem to recoil and huddle close to their friends and loved ones. Some, though, the outcasts and misfits, seem fidgety - like they want to talk, they just haven't been asked to speak.

Rane, as well, finds something peculiar - looking over a memorial to the Wishkah, she sees photographs of the young man, all flannel shirt and haunted eyes, sitting in a glass-encased shrine, with holders full of strange incense and bright candles burning in the night. It almost smells like the smells of summer, of youth, with all its awkwardness and enthusiasm and even the hints of sadness and not fitting in.

Another smell, however, intrudes upon the shrine - cheap beer has been spilled at its foot, the acrid, mainstream stench stretching up and ruining the night air. The abysmal alcohol stretches over to a dinged-up trashcan, tipped over in the dirt, its contents splayed across the ground. Near the trash pile is a puddle of...vomit would be one word to describe it. It looks to be a pile of offal and yet more of the disgusting beer. Footprints trail away from it, heavy and deep-set in the soil, and lead toward the lake, and her erstwhile companions.

Sophia gets a boost to her next roll in the area, Rane and ARTIF.EXE find clues!

The Rooster Wards

The street preacher looks up at The Profit, a grin playing across his face. "The Audacious Poets come to us at last, friend! I wear naught but what befits my station, Poet. I wear the truth." He reaches out, stroking the Macklemur's head. "Perhaps the little one, in his infinite curiosity, knows what he seeks. What we all seek, even. The roots of all things, Poet. Do you know what I speak of?"

The Profit gets cryptic weirdness, and the Macklemur makes a friend!

Tempus Rimeblood fucked around with this message at Jul 25, 2014 around 03:11

Rather Watch Them
Mar 28, 2012

Don't worry loves! NEED A CAVALRY HERE!


Rane

"Oh gods!" Rane reels back from the refuse and quickly cracks open a can of PBR. She wafts it into her nose as she examines the glass case.

"How *cough* touching," she recites, before noticing the tracks. She sighs, takes a preparatory sip of Pabst, and heads down the trail.

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

ARTIF.EXE

I quickly read through the scan results, nothing immediately useful, but filing it away in case it becomes relevant later. I follow Rane as she's picked up her own clues, and I stay alert because this whole place is unfamiliar, and it feels dangerous.

Error 404 fucked around with this message at Jul 25, 2014 around 04:18

AlanWhats
Mar 3, 2013

A smartly dressed scientist robot: high five bro.


Robert Johnson

Boots on the ground, Robert swings out of the Eazyrider. He can almost hear the low chords ringing throughout the slums, ringing desperate vocals in the picture frames of dirty saints and holy sinners. He walks along with The Profit, standing nearby the purple-clad preacher. He looks into the eyes of those despairing and feels their sorrow, feeling the echoes of it in the trials of his pasts and present. These people were lost, that much was true, and there were many who tried desperately to be the shepherd, only to sound like a wolf in the night. No one wants to listen to the wolves from within, for there are wolves just circling at their door.

Those fuckers in the SUVs. Plastic guitars and glossy speakers, flat, dumb and loud chords, obnoxious toxin body spray and butt. He could hear the spirits screaming beneath the chords, twisted into a shiny box and chopped into carbon mockeries of themselves over and over again. Robert growled and snarled under the brim of his hat, putting his hand firmly against the holster and slipping his thumb under the snap, just waiting to undo the thing and clear leather.

"I swear to god if those punk-asses in those SUVs run down this road one more fuckin' time..."

Barnaby Profane
Feb 23, 2012



BORIS

Boris arrives at the Rooster Wards at the helm of the Shrinebuilder, tailing the Eazyrider at a somewhat more glacial pace. Setting the weedian airship down at the outskirts of the ward, Boris is distinctly aware of his own alienness in this strange place -- for one more used to vast expanses of slowly rolling dunes and cyclopean ruin, the Rooster Wards are almost claustrophobic. The SUVs of Modernerok circle like buzzards above a slowly dying animal, but Boris pays them little mind, focusing instead upon the ramshackle and motley doomsayers of the ward. The Profit and his pet have already engaged with one of the street preachers, and Boris wordlessly takes a place by the Profit's side, wishing to hear the words of the preacher man.

(Boris is trying to get a read on the doom prophets of Rooster Alley; it's possible that some of them may recognize him as a Weedian doom priest -- he makes no attempt to hide his nature.)

Mors Rattus
Oct 25, 2007

FATAL & Friends
Walls of Text
#1 Builder
2014-2018


Satchmo

Satchmo hangs back for a moment, getting a feel for the area. Those SUVs are trouble, right enough. He's never been at home with most cars, really. Boats are more his style. "You want to go back to your roots, eh?" This he can talk about with confidence. Indeed, a little of his easy manner fades as he speaks, remember what he's done.

"You want to talk about the Beats? The backbeat, the heartbeat, the ones around 'fore any of us was here?" He taps his fingers on his trumpet case. "Maybe we can talk if you do. Because they know the root of it all...but I don't know if you really understand what you're lookin' for, if that's it. Findin' and respectin' your roots is a good thing. But the Beats..."

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009



Sophia

Let the others chase foul-smelling trails of garbage. The outcasts and misfits are the province of Haven, and always have been, no matter how far you go. She picks one, a lanky youth of indeterminate gender in a flannel and beanie. "You, my friend. What has happened here that has you so afraid? I am here to help you find your way again..."

skybot KZA: 3 (4dF+4=-, -, 0, +) +2 from boost to overcome their fear at +5

Comrade Gorbash
Jul 12, 2011

My paper soldiers form a wall, five paces thick and twice as tall.


The Profit

"Pretty sure we're looking for a temple down by a green river, dog. You know where we might find it?"

Tempus Rimeblood
Sep 23, 2007

...Friendship? Again?

The Shores of the L'Thium - "...And Pick The Crowd Up"

Eventually, Sophia, one of the misfits steps up to you. He's a fidgety young thing, all freckles and gawky limbs, red hair falling over heavy-lidded eyes.

"Listen, uh...ma'am," he says, softly, "there's a lot of stuff going ON," he says, voice nasal yet quavering. "The Queen has been...weird, lately. She's been off. It's like she's crying but she's not crying, like she's trying to convince us she's sad when she isn't. Makes this huge production out of it. And then she disappears for hours, and she comes back, and she starts up again. And last week or so, some big Modernerok guys came around, beat up some people. They said that if we said anything to anyone about the Queen, they'd kill every last one of us and our families. And then Hank went to the Council. He tried to tell the Vitalogue, but they grabbed him from the streets. They took him, ran across the border. We chased 'em as best we could, but he was gone."

He lights up a cigarette, its soft glow a bastion of light in the darkness.

"I know you're here to help, but, I'm not sure what anyone can do about this whole thing. Maybe if someone found the Blades of Foo, they could come back. It's said their leader was the Wishkah's best friend, but when he died they left, blaspheming the Queen and cutting a swath through the lands of Rock. I don't know. I just...I don't know." He looks down, shuffling his feet in the dirt.

Others begin to look up to you, with hope in their eyes and less fear in their hearts. Their eyes seem to plead, "will you help us?"

Shores of the L'Thium - A Darkened Trail

Rane and ARTIF.EXE, you're walking down a dark trail leading away from the lake. Discarded scraps of fabric litter the ground, obvious lapels of a collar and denim from jeans (pre-shredded, to the discerning eye.) The footsteps become heavier, more deep-set in the ground - one foot first, then the other, as though whoever was walking was carrying a huge burden. A split and cracked pair of "stylish" tennis shoes litters the path ahead.

There is a howl of pain and anguish in the distance.

Rane and ARTIF.EXE are on the hunt!

The Rooster Wards

"We seek not your backbeats, friend, we know well of them already. Your song and ours are not so different. No, we know many truths of the universe. The same truth the Weedian sees in his smoke, we see in our bones."

Upon hearing the Prophet's remark at a river, his eyes widen and he inhales sharply.

"Who sent you?" he asks, eyes narrowing to slits as he attempts to size you up.

In the distance, the SUVs swing around for another pass. There is a thump, a scream, a whooping shout of exuberance over tears of grief. Through it all, the same deafening cacophony blasts, constantly, drowning out the sounds of the Wards with its own filthy tone.

The SUV screams past, overly-tanned driver wearing cheap clothes made in a shiny pastiche of all that is Rock, her glimmering nails reflecting the dying light. Her passenger, a man more muscle than anything else, hoots at her in their guttural tongue, pointing at you all.

She smiles, lips thin and candy-apple red, the look of a predator ready to jump on its prey.

There is a screech of rubber as a wake of dust and small rocks is kicked into the air. The SUV swings around, blood of its previous victim still staining the grill. The tires begin to rev.

Brace for combat, Wards team! You've got one post to make whatever preparations you deem necessary before poo poo Gets Real!

Rather Watch Them
Mar 28, 2012

Don't worry loves! NEED A CAVALRY HERE!


Rane

Picking up a denim sample and rubbing it for consistency makes clear the worst has happened.

"Posers."

Rane tosses ARTIF.EXE a cautionary PBR. "Stay frosty. Sounds like we're headed for some serious poo poo."

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009



Sophia

Sophia listens with a look of genuine concern and a little sadness. "It sounds like you've been cast adrift. Those who should be leading you have abandoned you. Those who should be protecting you have lost their purpose. You're afraid. You're rudderless. You're havenless."

She stands on a convenient rock. "But if you let that consume you, you will be less than nothing. Are you not rockers? Are you not citizens!? When those who you trust betray you, there is only one response!"

She points dramatically upward. "YOU CLAIM YOUR OWN STRENGTH AND STORM THE GATES OF HELL!" She gestures, expansively, over the crowd. "If you are afraid, look to your neighbor! Is he not afraid too? Fear is natural. Fear is good. But it is your enemies you should be making afraid! Come, stand with me!"

She clasps her hands together. The sound is a gunshot in the silence. "Let's start by solving your problems."

KPrime, /++++4 = 7 Rapport to use Go Forth and Die and make these poor, unfortunate souls my latest little army.

Mors Rattus
Oct 25, 2007

FATAL & Friends
Walls of Text
#1 Builder
2014-2018


Satchmo

"I don't mean the beat, son. I mean the Beat. But I'm sure y'all got plenty to-"

He stops as the SUV makes its shrieking entry. For all its speed, he remains at an almost laconic pace as he puts down his trumpet case. He reaches to his chest for a moment, and takes a deep breath. "Hoped I wouldn't have to use this...ah well." He flicks the catches open. Inside the case, glimmering for a moment with a brass light all its own, lies Legato.

He picks the horn up, looking it over in his hands, then takes off his hat and steps forward. He stands taller with the horn in his hand, harsher. Less the grinning riverman and more the king that he claims to be. The horn helps - it's not decorative, really, but it's got a shine to it, like something alive. "Y'all just follow my lead, friends. Or stay behind me. I ain't 'bout to let none of these folks die before their time."

Comrade Gorbash
Jul 12, 2011

My paper soldiers form a wall, five paces thick and twice as tall.


The Profit

"Yeezus sent me," the Profit tells the street-preacher, turning to face the SUV. "Gonna need a second. Got some goons to teach a lesson with my immaculate style."

He cracks his knuckles as he steps up to stand beside the other legends. "This won't take more than a little while."

Barnaby Profane
Feb 23, 2012



BORIS

Boris tracks the SUV with hard eyes, sizing up the threat -- scouts, no doubt, and there would be more where they came from if these were not dealt with quickly. Boris unslings his axe, the mighty Mother Puncher, and sounds a low warning note, producing a shockwave of dust that kicks up trash and rattles windows.

Aboard the Shrinebuilder, Weedian roadies begin hauling amps and cabs out onto the deck, ready in case they are needed.

AlanWhats
Mar 3, 2013

A smartly dressed scientist robot: high five bro.


Robert Johnson

It had to happen. It just had to happen. A bunch of barbaric fools with no respect for forces beyond their feeble understanding had to go and provoke a fight. Robert knew this was going to happen, and quite frankly he wanted it to happen. A devilish grin cuts his face as he takes a step up alongside the rest, flicking off the clip on his holster with this thumb. With a quick flick of his arm, his guitar swings in front of him, and with a quick twang the metal chord starts to whine.

"Mmmmmm, you gonna die boy~" Robert starts to sing, his voice gritty and playful and toying with the subject like a cat with a ball of yarn. "Boy you gonna die today~." His shadow flickers for a moment, a candle in the coming winds of war. Robert lets out a whistle, and calls out to the Roan. He has plans for that SUV, boy does he have plans...

Tempus Rimeblood
Sep 23, 2007

...Friendship? Again?

The Shores Of The L'Thium - An Army Grows

The people cheer you, Sophia, a resounding cry of exultation and happiness. The trees and grass themselves even seem to bend, and the water in the lakes ripples with the cheering.

Well, all the water except for one lake. The largest, in fact. It remains eerily still, the moonlight reflected in a strange shade from its surface.

Suddenly, another howl joins the crowd - something guttural and animalistic, almost pained in its sound.

The Shores Of The L'Thium - The Monster At The End Of This Trail

Rane and ARTIF.EXE, as you advance down the trail, you hear a ragged breathing, labored and heavy. The footsteps grow larger and heavier-set, and two trails begin to drag to the sides, almost as though whatever is leaving these footprints dragged its knuckles through the earth. It's then, in a secluded area surrounded by trees, that you find it.



It's massive - a good ten feet tall, and hundreds of pounds of twisted muscle and sprayed-orange flesh. A howl of a crowd rises in the distance, from back towards the lake. The...beast, for lack of a better term, responds, its shredded faux-designer jeans ripping with the flexing of its leg muscles, and its torn and decrepit polo shirt still attempting to hang on by a thread, its one popped lapel still poking into the air like a flag of defiance.

Its deafening roar shakes the trees, its massive meaty fists beating against its chest like some bizarre ape.

Its head cocks. It turns, sniffing. Its empty, vacant eyes bore into yours.

It lunges, leaping at you and coming up a few feet short, its meaty shoulders splintering a tree with its charge. It howls again, acrid beer-smelling breath and spittle flying from its mouth.



The Rooster Wards - I Got An Idea Of Something We Can Do With A Gun

The SUV swings sideways in the street, doors opening and disgorging its passengers.

The beefy one gets out, back twisted and hunched, one arm larger than the other, his baseball cap fitting poorly on a misshapen head of stringy, greasy hair. The woman follows, predatory grin never leaving her lips as she draws a very generic-looking handgun from her fancy jacket.

From the alleys near you, there are screams. More large beings come out of the alleys, one with blood-stained fists, the other with a mysterious hunk of meat in his jaws. Their features are just as twisted, defective, WRONG as their predecessor, but they still approach from the sides.

Cackling and tittering, another stands up from a rooftop, bleached-blonde hair stained red with the blood of the poor child she throws off the roof, flannel-clad body hitting the ground with a messy thump. Wicked talons bristle from twisted hands, fingers bent in ways that should drive an average man mad with pain, but she laughs through it all.

And finally, one more pulls up in a long black car, stepping out as coolly and caually as you'd like, suit cutting a crisp figure in the night.

"You losers need to stand down," he says. "This shithole, and everything in it, are under the rule of the Duchy of Modernerok."

"And if ya don't, bro," he says with a chuckle, "we're just gonna have to kill you for being fuckin' weirdos."

At that, almost as though triggered by the word "kill," another musclebound hunk of deformities leaps, howling mad ramblings about "ice" and "frats," from a rooftop onto Pops, trying its best to drive a meaty fist into his skull! It misses, though, and rolls over to the others in front of you, pounding its fists on the ground in frustration.

Combat's started in the Wards! Basically, you guys are facing 5 of the misshapen freaks, and 2 of the more 'together' ones. I took the liberty of acting first with that sucker-punch (which missed completely), and we'll use Cinematic Initiative, which means that you pick who goes next at the end of your turn! HOWEVER, as a heads-up, if you pick the misshapen freaks, they'll all act at the same time! We'll have Robert Johnson go next!

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

ARTIF.EXE - The Shores Of The L'Thium - Explosions!

Almost as if it expected the attack, the W.U.B. revs up and unleashes a sub-harmonic that sets teeth on edge, a bone deep vibration that extends outward. A small rhythmic thrumming runs through the oversized weapon and a small green light on the readout activates. Weapons Free: Fire when ready.

I draw down on the raging dude-bro, Pulling my trigger just as it hits the trees in front of Rane and I...
Attack vs Dudemonster +12 13

There's a blinding flash and suddenly another, much louder and longer blast of nearly sub-audio noise floods out into the world. Windows shatter for blocks in every direction in accordance with the rhythmic pulses. Birds fall from the sky, their innate navigational senses temporarily scrambled from the filtered hi-pass synth leads. The ground between me and the monster lays cracked and steaming, several stretches of it fused into glass...

Rolling Attack with:
+5 Combat
+1 Expert Marksman
Weapon: 6 "at cost"
In all this I just realized I'm unsure how many, if any, FATE Points I have.

CINEMATIC INITIATIVE: I choose homeboy here, giving Rane a better shot before the round rolls over.

Error 404 fucked around with this message at Aug 5, 2014 around 06:10

AlanWhats
Mar 3, 2013

A smartly dressed scientist robot: high five bro.


Robert Johnson
FP: 4


Ain't nothing but rage left. Ain't nothing but rage Robert going to give them. But first there was the matter of the souls these bastards have so thoughtlessly attempted to snuff out and send upstairs. They needed vengeance, they needed a reckoning, they needed to get things set straight. Thankfully, Robert is just the man to do it.

And that's right about when Robert starts playing a tune he learned as one of the basics, the type of tune you play when you got a knot in your heart that you want to use to shoot somebody with. "Don't you go nowhere, children. We got some business to take care of." With that, Robert's eyes glow, and the souls of those recently departed bubble back to the world of the living, and they start to scream and howl their indignation.

Rolling Blues to Create an Advantage by summoning the souls of those these mutants just killed to come back to haunt them <Krysmbot> AlanWhats, +--++5 = 5+2=7 invoking Growling Inquisitor Blues to give these mutated bastards a proper reckoning.

Two tags on "The Murdered Ain't Silent" now up for the taking!

And with that, I hand initiative to Louis. Make us proud King.

AlanWhats fucked around with this message at Aug 5, 2014 around 06:37

Tempus Rimeblood
Sep 23, 2007

...Friendship? Again?

The Shores of the L'Thium - Giant Enemy Fratboy

The beast recoils from the blast, flesh shaking as the waves blast it to its core. But still it stands, howling in pain and fury as blood leaks from its ears.

The trees around it, however, for as far as you can see, do not fare so well. Nor does the ground. The sheer power of the WUB destroys literally everything in a cone in front of ARTIF.EXE for what must be two hundred yards. Trees splinter and fly apart, those on the outskirts merely falling over, their leaves blasted clean off. Grass flies out of the ground, launched back and shredded apart. Moths' wings are rent from their bodies, fireflies flicker out in one last blast of bioluminescence. The immediate area is well and truly desolate.

Except, of course, for the creature, still standing due to power unknown, or sheer orneriness.

It leaps at ARTIF.EXE, its massive hands coming down in an overhead smash to crush the Drop Squad member.

First up, the creature's defense against ARTIF.EXE's attack!
(2:57:28 AM) TempusRimeblood: !r 4dF+5
(2:57:29 AM) Krysmbot: TempusRimeblood, +++++5 = 9

You beat its defense by 4 shifts, and that's a success with style, so it's your choice from here, Error 404! You can either inflict 3 shifts of damage and take a boost on your next roll, or inflict 4 shifts now with no boost later!

Also, the "at a cost" for the WUB this time around is going to be "holy poo poo look at all that collateral damage."

Now, the creature's attack against you, ARTIF.EXE!

(3:10:38 AM) TempusRimeblood: !r 4dF+3
(3:10:40 AM) Krysmbot: TempusRimeblood, ++/-+3 = 4

Initiative passes to Rane.

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

I'll do 3 shifts + a boost, also isn't a boost just a +2 to a roll?

As for my Defense, I can roll it right now, or wait and do it when my next turn comes up.

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009



Sophia

"That sounds like trouble."

Sophia grins, and brandishes her bass. "I like trouble. Let's SHOW THEM WHAT WE'RE MADE OF!"

With an answering roar, the newly formed army moves off as one. Sophia ponders from her crowd-surfing pedestal. "What should I call this one... eh, let's see if it lasts more than 5 minutes before I give it a name." She picks at a nail. "I hope it does, it's so precious."

Mors Rattus
Oct 25, 2007

FATAL & Friends
Walls of Text
#1 Builder
2014-2018


Louis Satchmo

Pops moves back from the monstrosity, his customary smile entirely gone. "Ain't afraid of someone like you, boy. Or your pet." He raises the horn to his lips and begins to play, following Robert's lead. His horn calls out to the dead souls, their screams being pulled into the melody. Their cries mingle with the horn's blasts...

And blasts they become, as the King of Swing calls out to his kingdom. He'll pay the price later, he knows it. But right now...

Right now, each note of the horn is like a solid thing, giving the ghosts more than just cries. The music makes them real, their tearing fingers and the loud cries of the trumpet homing in on the massive brute.

Sorry for the delay! 5 on a Combat roll, thanks to the horn's innate bonus. Raise that to +7 with a free tag, as I pull in the power of the dead. Weapon: 1 but can damage Bulletproof enemies; don't need to scale up yet, I think. Especially since I don't know if this thing is Bulletproof.

Profit's up next.

Rather Watch Them
Mar 28, 2012

Don't worry loves! NEED A CAVALRY HERE!


Rane

A faint orange glow fades from Rane as her shield dissipates. "Remind me to hook you up with some subs once we're done here."

She plants her PBR on Peridot's built-in cupholder and puts her weapon's air hose in the corner of her mouth. Her dimples tighten up as she begins supplying air to the turbine. She begins keying her melody, then flicks the sequencer, hits a few vocal samples and lets it run.

She nods her head to the beast, growing red in the face.

Creating an advantage, Mind, Melting, with Synthesize.

<Krysmbot> RWT, /+//+5 = 6

Opting to skip Rane's next action (thanks to Burning Hearts) to add another free tag to the aspect. Go nuts, Arty.

Comrade Gorbash
Jul 12, 2011

My paper soldiers form a wall, five paces thick and twice as tall.


The Profit

While the others deal with the freaks, Profit strides towards the one in the suit, a sneer on his lips. "You have any idea who you're loving with here?" He takes a long drag, and rolls his head from one side to the other. "The King of Swing, the Dog of the Blues, and Chief Weed Priest. You've got some balls even thinking you belong in the same town with them. And then there's me. The Profit. Chosen of Yeezus. You're really picking a fight with me?" He shakes his head in wonder and disappointment.

"Well, then, you'd best protect your neck," he tells the man, then flicks away his joint and attacks, his foot snapping out in a powerful kick aimed right at the man's larynx.

[20:23] <Krysmbot> Gorbash, /-+-+4 = 3
Taking an invoke on the Murdered Ain't Silent to make it a 5 with W:2.

Boris, do your thing!

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

ARTIF.EXE - The Shores Of The L'Thium - Explosions!
4FP


"holy poo poo" I breathe out. No matter how many battles I make it through the WUB never fails to impress...
"HOLY poo poo!" I dive to the side as the big meathead's fists come slamming down at me. I manage to avoid the worst of it, but the strike kicks up a rock that clips the side of my head, I'm seeing double for a second.
Defend:
Athletics +3
Boost from my attack +2
Defense +5 3

He attacked for 4, So that means I take 1 shift of stress, right?


I shake my head to clear it and aim once more for the ugly bastard's beer breath head! I trigger the WUB and it ROARS out into the ruined landscape, cracking dirt and pavement. Compressing and expanding the very air into an oppressive wall of force clearing or crushing all in its path. ARTIF.EXE is momentarily blinded by the incandescent annihilation of the WUB.
Attack:
Combat +5
WUB 6
Mind Melting Advantage (from Rane unless I misunderstood) +2
Attack! +13 14


Has Sophia made it to the scene yet? if so, tagging her.

Error 404 fucked around with this message at Aug 9, 2014 around 20:20

Tempus Rimeblood
Sep 23, 2007

...Friendship? Again?

The Shores of the L'Thium - I Think It's Gonna Rain When I Die

Rane's melody drives the bestial thing into a frenzy. It clutches at its ears, blood pouring from them as its primitive brain is exposed to the more complex music.

And then the drop hits. ARTIF.EXE's blast catches the thing square in its massive trunk, ripples of pure bass warping and twisting its flesh.

It begins to separate, limbs detaching from torso in gouts of acrid black ichor, the scent of mass-market cologne and cheap beer filling the air.

Another blast of bass hits, and the air is still. Everything has stopped. A beat. Another.

Boom. Chunks of meat and bone fly apart, ichor and viscera splattering back. The klaxon call of the WUB's high-range counter-stabilizers barely hides the splattering sounds.

The wave continues to travel. Trees fly apart. Grass is vaporized. One of the Pools, in the distance, ripples and a wave forms, water flying out and covering the empty soil at the shore.

Yet another chunk of the forest has been laid to waste, the WUB's spindown punctuated by the cracking fall of one last tree.

The land itself seems to groan, a low baritone in the warping of trees and the hiss of water in the lakes settling. It almost sounds like a man in pain.

Sophia, as you and your army approach the howl, you hear the explosion of bass. Trees are there one second, gone the next. The ground, as you rush, goes from lush and green to bare and brown.

And at the point of this cone of desolation, Rane and ARTIF.EXE, splatters of ichor-covered meat littering the ground in front of them.

Your army look aghast at this.

Within their ranks, you hear:

"Wishkah's eyes, what did they do?"

"This monster must have been horrible!"

"What about the Vitalogue? Isn't the land his home?"

"Oh man, what if we lose him too?"

"What about the lakes? The Utairou is all full of dirt and grass and nastiness now..."

"That was the Wishkah's final trial! We should clean it, that would be so disrespectful to his soul to leave it like that..."

They're clearly distraught. They look to you with nervousness, and to Rane and ARTIF.EXE with outright, unabashed fear.

Thunder crashes. Rain begins to pour down upon you, the lack of trees making the downpour worse.

Combat's over, you guys are good to go. What next?

Barnaby Profane
Feb 23, 2012



BORIS

Boris's lips curl back in a snarl. The howls of the dead dissipate into the dusty air, but still the misshapen thugs proceed forward. "This place is not yours, your path is a false one. The earth will no longer suffer your taint: witness its rejection!"

Boris plants his feet and strikes a heavy, reverberating chord on his bass. A cloud of debris and dirt shoots upwards along a line towards the SUV, and with a groan the earth begins to shift underneath.

Create Advantage: Swallowing Chasms of Doom: 4dF+6 8

I may be doing this wrong, but what I have in mind here is a sinkhole opening up underneath the SUV with large cracks splintering outwards, creating an unstable and hazardous region underneath the mooks (a Swallowing Chasms of Doom aspect). Does that work?

Tempus Rimeblood
Sep 23, 2007

...Friendship? Again?

That works perfectly well!

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

ARTIF.EXE - The Shores Of The L'Thium - Victory!
4FP


With a high-pitched whirring sound like a jet engine spinning down, and the ping-ping-ping of cooling metal, the WUB de-activates. I return the big gun to its place, slung across my back. I turn to the others. "So, that wasn't so hard. Maybe we don't need this Queen after all." I smirk as I pop the top on the pbr Rane gave me earlier, and light up a 'victory' cigarette. Those standing closest to me can just barely hear the faint strains of music coming from my earbuds in the post-combat silence.

Just then, I notice the looks of fear on the eyes of the common folk. My face burns self-consciously and I switch my glasses to tint and pull up my hood with a shrug. "sorry for ruining your forest, it was for a good cause..." I mumble.

Rather Watch Them
Mar 28, 2012

Don't worry loves! NEED A CAVALRY HERE!


Rane

She quickly pops the intake hose out before taking in a breath.

"...It really wasn't though," Rane admits. Sure, they could have been killed by a roided-up lunkhead, but they could have dragged it out a little if it meant preserving the state of things. Hindsight's always 20/20.

"Y'know, instead of mourning they could be rallying together. I mean, look at this mess. If only someone knew the real cause of this destruction... Right, ARTIF.exe?"

Rane kicks a stray can of Bud and downs the last of her PBR. "loving posers."

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

ARTIF.EXE - The Shores Of The L'Thium
4FP


"Um...yeah, like I really couldn't help it though. WUB doesn't do small scale." I gesture to the ruined landscape "This? this IS holding back, and even then it's like using a firehose to fill a teacup. Was I just supposed to let that douche flatten us?" I take a breath and sip my own beer to calm myself, my hand shakes from the post-adrenaline euphoria.

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009



Sophia

"Indeed, you SHOULD clean it!" Sophia points to two random people in the crowd. "You, and you! Grab some people and get the right tools! You, get started blocking off the area. You...."

After a few minutes of hasty organizing, Sophia leaves them to their work and stalks off toward the two electronicas. "What the hell did you even do?!"

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

ARTIF.EXE - The Shores Of The L'Thium
4FP


I look at the intimidating heavy metal lady and shrug.
"The WUB is a charged BASS accelerator, and functions by using a miniature cyclotron to concentrate protons by channeling though a "positronic colloidal Woofer" and then through the amplifier stack woofers mounted serially down the barrel, emitting a positronic ionized stream of Bogons (positively charged bass particles) into a "laser" of focused sound energy that polarizes with the negatively charged...

Look, it's just-it's complicated okay?"

Rather Watch Them
Mar 28, 2012

Don't worry loves! NEED A CAVALRY HERE!


Rane

"Well, I was thinking of blaming the rock-head for exploding, but hey, if you're sorry for letting the beat drop, that's your prerogative."

Grant pulls up in the +, now having found ,a parking spot close by. He takes a look around, picks up a shred of denim and points at it. "Yo, did a poser do this?"

Rane replies, "Totally."

"Da-amn."

"Should've seen him while he was still solid."

K Prime
Nov 4, 2009



Sophia

"...Well then be more careful with it!" Sophia gestures at the bustling people. "These people need a success! Something to remind them that they are more than just victims, so they can stand on their own two feet again! Blowing up their land doesn't help!"

Tempus Rimeblood
Sep 23, 2007

...Friendship? Again?

The Rooster Wards - Spill My Blood

Cracks open up in the ground, the SUV being swallowed into the surface of the earth. The creatures barely leap to avoid it, but clearly it will be difficult going for them.

Boris creates the Aspect "Swallowing Chasms of Doom" on the scene!

One of the musclebound meatheads collapses, the Profit's kick collapsing the monster's windpipe as it collapses, choking on its own blood. Quivering and spasming, it sinks to the ground, unable to even clutch at its own unprotected neck.

Pops' trumpet blasts a hole clean through another, its empty ribcage showing the night as clear as you'd like. It, too, sinks to the ground.

Yours is dead, Profit. Yours is also dead, Pops!

The misshapen woman leaps from the rooftops, her jagged nails raking out at Pops' face. She shrieks, a terrible cry of fury and...drunkenness, for lack of a better term. She smells worse than any of the rotgut Pops has encountered, or any of the other foul things any of you have had the misfortune of inhaling.

Its attack: (2:34:14 AM) Krysmbot: TempusRimeblood, /-+/+1 = 1.

As if he were marked by the beasts, another meathead lunges at Pops' stomach, as though to take him down and pound on him some more. Its bellowing cry echoes in the night air.

However, it sails right past and tumbles end-over-end. Clearly, it's not the most coordinated of beasts. Howling, it picks itself up again.

(2:36:08 AM) Krysmbot: TempusRimeblood, --+-+1 = -1. This is a bit sad.

The last meathead, though, shows some initiative, launching itself at the bluesman, murder in its beady eyes. The hunk of meat drops from its jaws as it begins to salivate at the thought of tearing your flesh, its ragged polo shirt straining under misshapen musculature.

It, too, misses, as it flies so far it slams into its also-uncoordinated comrade. Clearly, their lunging tactics aren't working, as they go down in a tangle of limbs and struggle to right themselves.

(2:39:34 AM) Krysmbot: TempusRimeblood, /--/+1 = -1. Poor things, they're so inept.

The two in power suits, though...they seem to mean business. Chattering away into Bluetooth headsets, the one with the cheap pistol opens fire on Pops, calling out "Kill the douche with the fuckin' horn, he's their nerd-rear end boss!" The other one is only too happy to comply, squaring up with Pops in a fighting stance and launching a vicious left hook at his jaw.

The gunner's attack: (2:42:51 AM) Krysmbot: TempusRimeblood, -++-+2 = 2
And the melee guy's attack: (2:43:21 AM) Krysmbot: TempusRimeblood, +-/++2 = 3

I think I might need to work on building tougher enemies for your encounters. Some feedback on encounter design so far in the OOC thread would be great, for those of you more experienced with FATE or Atomic Robo than myself!

Also, initiative passes to Pops!

Tempus Rimeblood fucked around with this message at Aug 13, 2014 around 13:55

Error 404
Jul 17, 2009


MAGE CURES PLOT

ARTIF.EXE - The Shores Of The L'Thium
4FP


I shrug in the face of Sophia's impassioned plea. "Yeah, look, you want a success right? well just make sure there's nothing breakable or valuable between me and large numbers of the biggest, baddest, nastiest, douche-bros they got. Ok?" I take a couple sulky puffs off my cig and finish my beer.

Rather Watch Them
Mar 28, 2012

Don't worry loves! NEED A CAVALRY HERE!


Rane
FP: 5 > 4

"Sure, I'd love to keep talking at the epicenter of a nuclear drop while the locals stare at us."

Rane climbs up on the perch of the + (her main battle station) and tunes up her machines. "Grant, gimme the sheets for one of the Wishkah's greats."

"Roger dodger, Mistress." Grant does a quick search on his phone and sends some music to Rane's on-board screen.

"Perf." She starts up in sampling everything she can as Grant starts doing a circle of the Utairou. It sounds something like this.

Using Synthesize to overcome the nastiness in the locals' hearts.

<Krysmbot> RWT_Gone, -/+-+5 = 4

Invoking her Synth aspect, Fineshrine, to make 6.

Rather Watch Them fucked around with this message at Aug 14, 2014 around 20:04

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Mors Rattus
Oct 25, 2007

FATAL & Friends
Walls of Text
#1 Builder
2014-2018


Pops

5, 4, 5, 5. All the attacks miss me.

Pops dances ably between blows, moving like a snake. The stinking woman and the brute cannot hope to teach him, as he ducks around their attacks without missing a beat. He turns, instead, on the suited men. The bullet flies true, but he raises his horn for a crescendo, bringing it into the bullet's path. It is unharmed, but the bullet falls to the ground. He doffs his hat in a bow, catching the boxer's blow with it and moving it aside. He lowers the horn.

"Boys, follow my lead on this. These folks want bad, we're gonna give 'em bad. Because you lot, you ain't nothin'. All you got is smell - and you got that in spades, I grant ya. But now..."

He starts to play, a lively and cheery tune. He's not smiling, though. These - these are the blues, the same as any. But they're jazzed up, wearing the coat of happier days. The energy is infectious, as Satchmo puts to work the true power of the King of Swing: he is the life of the party. His music gets into the muscles, livening up everything they do...well, at least for Satchmo and his allies. They wanted him to be the leader?

This is the power he uses to lead. He's right up in the thick of it, not a champion but a beacon that makes the entire army rise to equal him.

6 to Create Advantage, something along the lines of 'All That Jazz'.

I'll saaaaay...oh, how about Boris!

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