|
The Hangover Early morning, Saturday January 1, The Year 2000. It's the cold that wakes you. The house is icy enough that you can see your breath. The back screen door's hanging off its hinges, wide open and blowing in the cold Dakota wind. The generator must have run through the last of the gas, and the heating's died. It's still dark out, and still below freezing. Heads are hazy from either last night's liquor or maybe Mick's stash, depending on your preference, and it feels way too early to be up. Last night seems distant. There was music, stories, bad singing... and strange lights in the sky. "Fireworks, gotta be" Sota had concluded after a few minutes' arguing, but the big farmhand didn't even seem to believe himself. "Or maybe jets outta Ellsworth Air Base, that ain't far away," he concluded for a second time, maybe even less certain. But between beer, weed and Bobby doing a pretty bad rendition of Time of Your Life on Mick's guitar, the mystery seemed to fall out of mind, something to check later once you could get the tv working again after that power surge fried some part of its innards. Bobby's got the front living room set up like a sleep out, the couch folded out, sleeping bags on the floor, and bottles of booze scattered everywhere. A peek out the front window shows it's still dark. Sunrise isn't til 8am this time of year. The sliver of moonlight reveals the front yard is silent and still and last night's campfire's turned to cold ash now. It's a proper country front yard, scattered with vehicles in various states of repair: Two pick ups out front (one Annemarie's, one Dave's), and Marla's sedan, its gas reluctantly volunteered to keep the generator running last night. The two storey farmhouse is on a gentle hill, and a dirt road winds southwards through the treeline to the main road, but it's too dark to make anything out more than about 40 yards away. To the east of the house is the barn, stocked with feed and farm supplies, and next to that's the alpaca stables. If you listen you can hear the animals humming on the wind. Something's woken them up early. To the west is the garage, holding Bobby's old farm truck, the fenced-in truck bed big enough to haul a dozen alpacas on the back, but its starter motor's busted and it's been sitting in the garage over the holiday period. There's a small meat shed next to it. The boar Marty shot is hanging in there, the arrow cut out, the animal dressed and bled, a bucket underneath to catch the blood. For once, Bobby had been happy to have Marty hunting on his land. That big boar had made himself a nuisance the past couple weeks, getting into the alpaca feed and spooking the herd. Bobby promised pork steaks for lunch today. He said hardly none of the pigs round here had boar taint, and well charred they made for good eating. "Bobby?" you hear Sota's voice sound out from the rear of the house. Down through the hallway, past the kitchen, he leans on the back door frame and peers out with the help of a battery-powered camping lantern. "Bobby you okay? Bobby, you drunk? Why you sleepin' out here? You... oh poo poo." "The hell's going on out there?" Marla mutters from deep in her sleeping bag, reaching one hand out to brave the cold and find her cigarette packet. "Yall wanna close the door maybe?" "You... oh poo poo. Come see this." Bobby has fallen face down on the steps leading up to the back porch. From how he lay, it looks like he'd been outside and was crawling up the steps back towards the house. Blood has pooled below his bushy beard. It's still wet, still soaking into the floorboards. His right hand is locked around the grip of Dave's shotgun, borrowed in the night apparently. It doesn't look like he got a shot off. It would've woke the whole house. There's a streak of blood on the inside wall, a smeared handprint leading up the staircase to the second floor. Sally Rose was sleeping up there. *thud thud thud* A sound from the west of the house. Someone violently banging on the wall of the garage? *thud thud thud* --- Map
|
#
?
Oct 9, 2017 10:11
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 25, 2024 09:11 |
|
|
 Mick "Oh, gently caress, man..." Mick's already going for the hair of the dog that bit him by the time he's outside, and now the joint is hanging almost-forgotten on his lip as he takes in the scene. His first thought is that somebody's spiked the stash, but this is his weed. So his second train of thought jumps the tracks, and takes a shortcut to the next logical conclusion. "This is some kinda Texas Chainsaw bullshit." girl dick energy fucked around with this message at 15:35 on Oct 9, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 9, 2017 10:43
|
|
|
 Sargent Major Mike "Red" Vinning Mike's eyes pop open at the sound of Mick's statement. Picking the half smoked cigar off his chest, he put it in his mouth and started chewing as he struggled to his feet. Ambling to the door his eyes widened as he saw Bobbys prone form on the ground. His heart jumped as a familiar rush of adrenaline kick started him fully awake and he quickly scanned the yard for anything out of place. As his gaze swept back inside the bloody smear on the wall drove an icicle spike through his heart....some poo poo is going on in the house. "Watch the door" He growled to no one in particular Pulling his K-Bar knife off his combat vest, he began to creep up the stairs straining his senses https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3835861&pagenumber=1&perpage=40#post477089754 Waroduce fucked around with this message at 18:08 on Oct 9, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 9, 2017 17:49
|
|
|
 Dave "What the gently caress, man?" Dave says as he shoved his way past Mick and knelt down next to Bobby's body, checking if the man is still alive and the cause or conditions of his wounds. Piell fucked around with this message at 17:07 on Oct 10, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 9, 2017 17:52
|
|
|
 Rudy Anderson > 34 / 34 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 16 SpeedRudy had intended to sleep in today, at least until the smell of breakfast was in the air. The freezing cold air outside his sleeping bag held no appeal for him, and his headache wasn't helping matters either. Plot (Sota) posted:"Bobby you okay? Bobby, you drunk? Why you sleepin' out here? You... oh poo poo." Mick posted:"Oh, gently caress, man... This is some kinda Texas Chainsaw bullshit." Dave Lawson posted:"What the gently caress, man?" He'd heard the words 'oh poo poo' enough to know a problem brewing based on the inflection, though. Begrudgingly, Rudy partially unzips his sleeping bag and shimmies to freedom, making his way to the sound of Sota's voice. By the time he gets there, Dave is already kneeling down next to Bobby, who is seemingly laying in a pool of his own blood. Not exactly the wake-up call he had been expecting. "Tits up in the rhubarb if I've ever seen it.", he offers to Sota and Dave, "Is he still breathing? That don't look too fuckin' good." The last thing he needed was to be within fifty miles of a murder, let alone fifty feet of the murder of a former sheriff's deputy. Hopefully Bobby was still alive, and this situation could be salvaged. Failing that, maybe he'd get lucky and this would turn out to be a wild animal attack. South Dakota's natural predators were ...wolves and coyotes, he believed? Perhaps a particularly vicious badger could've done this, as well. He'd need to get a look at the wound. Attempting to jostle Sota out of his shock, he nudges the man in the side, offering, "Big man, let's get a look at him, eh?" Retrieving his flashlight from his nearby backpack, he flicks it on and points it at Bobby. pre:> Turn on flashlight and point it at Bobby. > Notice check on Bobby to see if he's still breathing or salvageable. Passive: Strength (+3) / Constitution (+3) / Willpower (+3) / Dexterity (+5) / Intelligence (+5) / Perception (+5) Skill (+1) [Tech]: Craft / Computers / Electronics / Mechanic / Driving / Piloting Skill (+1) [Social]: Bureaucracy / Haggling / Intimidation / Questioning Skill (+1) [Knowledge]: First Aid / Humanities / Instruction / Research Skill (+5): Notice / Smooth Talking / Science Skill (+7): Science (chemistry) Inventory: Backpack / Sleeping Bag / Flashlight / Multitool / First Aid Kit / $105 __________________________________________________________________________________________ Waador fucked around with this message at 18:52 on Oct 9, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 9, 2017 18:21
|
|
|
  Annemarie groaned inwardly and mused to herself, "Well how many times does this make now? Waking up from the night before with blood on the walls? Knew this was a bad idea, should have just stayed home." She sat up from the fold out couch and began pulling on her jacket and boots. With a practiced hand, she pulled out a small compact and checked her face while smoothing out her hair. A cigarette was quickly lit, and she took a long, hard drag while surveying the room. Annmarie held the smoke in her lungs for a little longer than usual, and when she finally exhaled, it came with a question, "Dave, he still alive? I got a first aid kit if he's still breathing." CourValant fucked around with this message at 04:41 on Oct 15, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 9, 2017 19:46
|
|
|
 Marty Kowalski "Oh no no no. This can't be happening." whined Marty, twisting his hands in his hair. "What the hell is going on?" Marty desperately searched for an explanation, any sign that a wild animal did this to Bobby. Actions posted:Notice to check for
|
|
#
?
Oct 9, 2017 23:36
|
|
|
Overhearing the concerned words Marla wrestles her way out of the sleeping bag and angrily tosses it aside. "The hell do you mean 'is he still breathin'?" she says, trotting barefoot down the hallway. "That meant to be a goddamn joke?" The wiry veteran stops when she gets to the back door, her jaw setting hard when she sees the blood. "Who's got a phone," she murmurs. Rudy flicks the light over Bobby, and he's seen enough that he can tell the man is dead. His eyes are open and they don't even flicker when the flashlight shines on them. His mouth's open, with red flecks around his beard. Peering closer, Dave finds a ragged wound around Bobby's throat stretching up under his ear. It's not like his neck was cut with a knife. This isn't neat. It looks more like a messy exit wound. He would've died fast, at least, with the artery opened up and hanging all jagged. Marty scans the surrounds. A light dusting of snow overnight makes for easy readings despite the darkness, but there's no fresh animal tracks around. By the light of Sota's lantern you can make out Bobby's bootprints starting from the bottom of the stairs: Looks like he walked out and went round the side of the house where the generator sits silent now. Marty can make out another pair of tracks appearing out of the south, down where the main road runs. Whoever it is, they're walking around in this cold with only one shoe on, staggering around all wonky on the side of his foot. The second pair of tracks intersect Bobby's bootprints and then the markings gets messy, slipping and sliding, and an arterial spray of blood shines on the powdery snow. *thud thud thud* That violent banging again. Marty can hear it's coming from the meat shed. *thud thud thud* Someone inside the shed is hammering frantically on the door. With each thud the wooden door shudders visibly under the impact. *thud thud thud* Back inside, Mike makes his way up the staircase. The stairs open out to a short corridor. Bathroom on the left, door closed, a window box to your right, and master bedroom up ahead. Sally Rose was sleeping in there. The door's open. The only light is the glow of the moon coming through the bedroom window. Mike can see the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway looking into the bedroom. Peering into the dark, you think he might be wearing a uniform, a light blue shirt like you might see on an EMT, and he's missing a shoe. He's moving weird, hunched over to one side like he's hurt, jerking his head left and right as he scans the darkened room. One hand rests against the doorframe. You can just make out his fingers are badly broken, and slick with fresh blood. - If you need to make any rolls, feel free to roll your own dice at https://orokos.com/roll/ , just stick "1999" in the campaign tab.
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 06:38
|
|
|
Mick "gently caress. This is hosed up." Mick's pacing now, pulling in and breathing out smoke like he's trying to keep himself from hyperventilating (which makes sense, because he is). If it was an animal, then would there be a bloody handprint? Would someone be banging on the door in the shed? Would Bobby have gone down without so much as a fight? No, no, no way. This is a horror movie. They're in a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere, and there's some crazy killer on the loose. "Grab- grab his gun, man." He doesn't even wait for anyone to listen before he half-paces half-runs to where he was keeping his own pistol. It was supposed to be for shooting beer cans, but no loving way is he going to be caught without it when- "Oh, gently caress, somebody needs to help Red." And Sally Rose. Assuming she's not- Christ. If the hot chick dies at the beginning, what the gently caress does that mean for the rest of them? Stamping out the butt of the joint on the floor (gently caress it, they can yell at him later), Mick checks the safety, and follows where Red went up the stairs. Slowly. There's no screaming yet, so maybe he's sneaking up on him. And not just silent death #3. gently caress.
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 07:17
|
|
|
Rudy Anderson > 34 / 34 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 16 SpeedPlot posted:Rudy flicks the light over Bobby, and he's seen enough that he can tell the man is dead. His eyes are open and they don't even flicker when the flashlight shines on them. His mouth's open, with red flecks around his beard. Peering closer, Dave finds a ragged wound around Bobby's throat stretching up under his ear. It's not like his neck was cut with a knife. This isn't neat. It looks more like a messy exit wound. He would've died fast, at least, with the artery opened up and hanging all jagged. Mick posted:"gently caress. This is hosed up. Grab- grab his gun, man." Rather confident it would be a bad idea to move the body and get a bunch of fingerprints all over everything, he moves closer towards Dave and Bobby's corpse, commenting, "I don't fuckin' like it, but we can't move the body. Police are gonna' want to crime scene this place to fuckin' hell. Might be wise to get inside and close the door until we make sure everyone else is safe and accounted. Close all the other fuckin' doors and windows and poo poo, I'm thinkin'?" He tries desperately to find a way to ignore the elephant in the room, though it is ultimately futile, "Unless we wanna' go check out that fuckin' banging sound. Though that might be something worth savin' for a few minutes while we observe the Second fuckin' Amendment, eh?" Having thrown a useful task to half the people in the room as something to focus on, he eased his foot off the gas, not wanting to appear like he was ordering people around by giving everyone a job. That was a surefire way to be branded 'rear end in a top hat', and this really wasn't the time to deal with social politics. Making an effort to be useful himself, he starts searching the kitchen and living room for anything that might be useful. He wasn't sure where Bobby kept his car keys, or the keys to half the rooms and buildings on the farm, but he was drat sure he didn't want to have to find them in a rush later if this did turn out to be a low budget slasher film. He also wanted to take stock of the chemicals stored under the kitchen cabinet, curious to see what he might have to work with if it came to that. pre:Notice/Perception 19 Searching the kitchen and living room for anything useful. Passive: Strength (+3) / Constitution (+3) / Willpower (+3) / Dexterity (+5) / Intelligence (+5) / Perception (+5) Skill (+1) [Tech]: Craft / Computers / Electronics / Mechanic / Driving / Piloting Skill (+1) [Social]: Bureaucracy / Haggling / Intimidation / Questioning Skill (+1) [Knowledge]: First Aid / Humanities / Instruction / Research Skill (+5): Notice / Smooth Talking / Science Skill (+7): Science (chemistry) Inventory: Backpack / Sleeping Bag / Flashlight / Multitool / First Aid Kit / $105 __________________________________________________________________________________________
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 08:15
|
|
|
Annemarie De Lang children overboard posted:Rudy flicks the light over Bobby, and he's seen enough that he can tell the man is dead. His eyes are open and they don't even flicker when the flashlight shines on them. His mouth's open, with red flecks around his beard. And that was all Annemarie needed to hear; time to leave. People were up and about now, either going up the stairs, poking at what was formerly Bobby, or just trying to take control of the situation. She wasn't particularly impressed with any of them, and frankly, wouldn't have cared if she didn't see anyone from tonight every again. In fact, she'd prefer it that way. Pulling on her jacket, Annemarie slipped her loaded 9mm pistol into the front right pocket; a man was dead, and nobody here was going to stop her from getting to her truck. Quickly zipping up her weekend bag, she got up to leave and walked briskly out the door, stepping to one side of Bobby as she went down the porch stairs. That pounding inside the meat shed gave her pause though, especially with the door looking like its going to give any second. No way was she going to just walk past without someone there to check it out first. Action >Notice + Perception+ Situational Awareness on the meat shed: 1d10+3+4+2 16 >"Dave, don't think there's anything you can do for Bobby now. Can you come help me look at this meat shed?"
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 09:11
|
|
|
Sota takes a second to snap out of his glassy-eyed stare and break his gaze with the body. "Y-yeah," he stammers out, nodding to Rudy. "Cellphone. Uhhh... kitchen." The phone's plugged into a charger—which is dead since the power's out—but it's a Nokia so the phone lasts for a week on standby anyway. The 84x48 pixel monochrome screen lights up green. The signal's patchy out here, hovering between zero and one bar depending on where you stand in the house. The old tin roof might be interfering. It seems to get a signal ok if you stand real close to a window or door. Pretty quick Rudy's able to find Bobby's keyring in a drawer amid a mess of plastic cutlery, takeaway napkins, giveaway beer coozies and promotional bottle openers. You've got a truck key, front and back door key, and one to his tool cabinet in the garage. Under the sink in a very child-unfriendly spot is an assorted array of very people-unfriendly household chemicals: cleaners, Draino crystals, some mineral spirits, a bottle of bleach, and a few other odds and ends that'd keep a boy scout busy for hours earning his chemistry badge/burning off his eyebrows. There's a couple of small tools under the sink too. Bobby's heavy duty stuff's out in the garage, but he keeps enough in here—screwdrivers, pipe wrench, hammer—to fix a leaky tap or a secure a rattling window. Mick creeps up the stairs to join Mike at the landing, in time to see the wounded, strange-gaited man take a step into the dark bedroom on his twisted bare foot. He lets out a low, breathy grunt and his head jerks to the left, over where the bed is. *thud thud thud* The hammering from inside the meat shed doesn't let up. Annemarie's sharp eyes spot something in the dim light: One of the large screws holding the lower hinge on has been knocked loose and tumbled to the fresh snow. *thud thud thud* The other three screws on the lower hinge jut out just a little more with every thud.
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 12:12
|
|
|
 Dave Lawson > 54 / 54 HP > 41 / 41 EP > 20 Speed"Man, I ain't waiting around in here to get killed," Dave says as he pries his shotgun from Bobby's hand. After his examination of the Bobby, he did his best to avoid looking at him. "Alright, let's go," he proclaims, punctuating his statement with a pump of the shotgun, sending a shell rolling to the floor. "Oh, right," he says quietly, before picking it up and loading it back into the shotgun. Following Annemarie to the meat shed, he looks it over, shotgun at the ready. Seeing the door beginning to break down, he aims at the door and shouts towards the shed. "Hey! Whoever the gently caress is in there, stop that!" Didn't see the update until after I posted, here's a perception check that may be redundant Notice + Perception on the meat shed: 1d10+3+4 9 Piell fucked around with this message at 12:22 on Oct 10, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 12:20
|
|
|
children overboard posted:
quote:Mick creeps up the stairs to join Mike at the landing, in time to see the wounded, strange-gaited man take a step into the dark bedroom on his twisted bare foot. He lets out a low, breathy grunt and his head jerks to the left, over where the bed is.  Sargent Major Mike "Red" Vinning > 44 / 44 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 18 SpeedRed slowly moves down the hallway toward the man in the bedroom. He clearly wasn't part of the party the night before but his clothing indicates he may be some type of first responder which makes him reluctant to simply shank a man for being in a house he wasn't invited into. The odd-walk and clearly busted ankle he's walking on might indicate PTSD or this dude might be jacked up on some PCP or Cocaine....Cocaine is a hell of a drug... The man pivots toward the bed in the room. Wanting to intervene before whoever was in the bed has to deal with this jackass Red bark's out "Hey buddy, you ok?" as he shifts his weight and get's ready to spring into action in case the stranger is feeling frisky. Red had spent some time in South America, and you never know how a junkie would react. Equal odds on the guy making GBS threads himself and passing out, or charging thinking he was some sort of monster here to take all the blow. Profile Sheet Waroduce fucked around with this message at 15:25 on Oct 10, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 15:10
|
|
|
*thud thud thud* A second screw is shot out of the hinge by the force of the banging on the meat shed door. There's no response from inside to Dave's call for calm. Upstairs, Red calls out to the injured man. His head jerks around towards you. Even in the dark you can see the man's face is all busted up pretty bad. He slowly turns his body to face you. The front of his ambulance driver's uniform is stained brown with old blood, and his mouth and teeth are bright red with new. He lets out a vocal cord-ruining roar that sounds more like a wounded bear than a man. The sound's made guttural and wet by a gullet packed with meat and liquid. The man launches himself towards Red and Mick, rushing down the corridor in a lopsided shamble. You audibly hear that ruined ankle crack as he puts his weight on it, but he doesn't even notice, hurrying towards Red on that crippled leg with his jaws drawn wide open and teeth bared. *thud thud thud* Outside, another screw's punched clear. The brass plate bends under the sheer force of the hammering. "Oh. Oh no," Sota mutters out on the porch. "Oh gosh Bobby no, y-you need to sit down." At the sound of the roar upstairs, Bobby's eyes had flickered, and with mechanical doggedness your friend's quite-dead corpse pushed himself up off the stairs and stood. Blood, half congealed, spills from the five-inch chasm that's been hollowed out of his throat and falls on his boots and stains the snow. Sota cannot comprehend that his employer and friend is walking again despite missing several vital parts of his neck. Marla backs inside, struck silent, looking for anything to defend herself, and grabs a hardwood coat stand. Bobby seems like he's trying to yell as his wide eyes glance between Sota and Dave's back, but with so much of his neck gone he can't make a sound and frothy blood just bubbles at the wound. *thud thud thud* The hinge plate bursts off the meat shed door and a monstrous leathery head smashes its way out. The wild boar, its insides hollowed out by Bobby and Marty shortly after death, kicks over the bucket full of its own gizzards as it rushes out, a little trail of gore getting caught up on its sharp rear hoof as it dashes out into the snow. By the light of the lantern you can see its eyes are filmy with death. Wild boar are almost never seen in these parts. This one was a survivor, probably making it up north after being run off a Nevada farm. It was 260 pounds when it had all its guts in, maybe 190 dressed weight, and now it's just muscle and sinew and leathery feral skin and hard, thick, bone. Its lower back is ripped open from where it slipped free of the meat hook. The animal was aggressive when alive and it is insane with rage in death. Its big dog-killing jaws snap as it eyes off Annemarie. Its tusks are at femoral height.  - Mick rolls 10 to pass a Fear test. Annemarie rolls 11 to pass a Fear test. Marty rolls 9 to pass a Fear test. You all manage to keep your cool. You're faster than these things and you were prepared: Players act first. There's a -2 lighting penalty due to darkness inside, and a -1 penalty outside. Red: Gain 2XP for your realistic non-psycho reaction to the figure upstairs.
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 16:57
|
|
|
Rudy Anderson > 34 / 34 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 16 SpeedPlot posted:Sota takes a second to snap out of his glassy-eyed stare and break his gaze with the body. "Y-yeah," he stammers out, nodding to Rudy. "Cellphone. Uhhh... kitchen." The phone's plugged into a charger—which is dead since the power's out—but it's a Nokia so the phone lasts for a week on standby anyway. The 84x48 pixel monochrome screen lights up green. The signal's patchy out here, hovering between zero and one bar depending on where you stand in the house. The old tin roof might be interfering. It seems to get a signal ok if you stand real close to a window or door. pre:Taking the cell phone and charger for now. Plot posted:Pretty quick Rudy's able to find Bobby's keyring in a drawer amid a mess of plastic cutlery, takeaway napkins, giveaway beer coozies and promotional bottle openers. You've got a truck key, front and back door key, and one to his tool cabinet in the garage. Under the sink in a very child-unfriendly spot is an assorted array of very people-unfriendly household chemicals: cleaners, Draino crystals, some mineral spirits, a bottle of bleach, and a few other odds and ends that'd keep a boy scout busy for hours earning his chemistry badge/burning off his eyebrows. There's a couple of small tools under the sink too. Bobby's heavy duty stuff's out in the garage, but he keeps enough in here—screwdrivers, pipe wrench, hammer—to fix a leaky tap or a secure a rattling window. pre:Taking the keyring for now. Plot (Sota) posted:"Oh. Oh no," Sota mutters out on the porch. "Oh gosh Bobby no, y-you need to sit down." pre:> Using my flashlight to light up Bobby (trying to negate the darkness penalty on him). > Science/Intelligence or Perception 13 Trying to comprehend what is happening with Bobby. __________________________________________________________________________________________ Passive: Strength (+3) / Constitution (+3) / Willpower (+3) / Dexterity (+5) / Intelligence (+5) / Perception (+5) Skill (+1) [Tech]: Craft / Computers / Electronics / Mechanic / Driving / Piloting Skill (+1) [Social]: Bureaucracy / Haggling / Intimidation / Questioning Skill (+1) [Knowledge]: First Aid / Humanities / Instruction / Research Skill (+5): Notice / Smooth Talking / Science Skill (+7): Science (chemistry) Inventory: Backpack / Sleeping Bag / Flashlight / Multitool / First Aid Kit / $105 / Cell Phone / Key Ring __________________________________________________________________________________________ Waador fucked around with this message at 18:12 on Oct 10, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 18:08
|
|
|
children overboard posted:*thud thud thud* Sargent Major Mike "Red" Vinning > 44 / 44 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 18 Speed"Well, someone's feeling frisky" Red mutters as the former ambulance driver lurches towards him. Quickly assessing the man with a practiced eye, Red figures if he needs to write on the use of deadly force he's well covered. This guy has got to be out of his mind on some fresh new hellish drug or caught some sort of infection from sharing gear. He'll worry what the gently caress is going on after this problem is solved. Worse comes to worse Red can plant a knife on Mister Ambulance Driver afterward and take his chances on the hippie keeping his mouth shut. Kid's probably got some minor priors and he's probably got enough to catch a possession/distribution charge with all the weed at the party last night. Red refocuses on the target, at least he's moving slow, gotta be floating on a cloud of painkillers or something to be moving on that nasty ankle.....gathering from the fact this guy is moving on a shattered ankle, Red is going to have to go for a kill off the bat Dex 5 + Knife 5 =10 Stab this motherfucker: 1d10 1 = 11 A wonderful start I rolled a 1: 1d10 5 so still 11. damage: 1d4 1 * 2 = 4 damage Waroduce fucked around with this message at 18:51 on Oct 10, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 18:38
|
|
|
Dave Lawson > 54 / 54 HP > 41 / 41 EP > 20 Speed Of all the things that could have come out of the shed, 'giant dead boar' was not quite bottom of the list. Still, his shotgun was already aimed - all he had to do was pull the trigger. Shotgun, apply directly to boar 5 Dex + 1 Guns(Shotgun) -1 Darkness: 1d10+5 8 Adding in the +1 to hit for buckshot that I originally forgot, that's 9 for a probable hit Buckshot damage: 1d8*6 24 Unlike other bullets, buckshot (and birdshot) damage isn't doubled after armor.
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 18:54
|
|
|
Mick And now there's some crazy methhead monster charging at Red. It's dark, he's on the other side of possibly the only one of them equipped to deal with this kind of crazy bullshit, and Mick can barely hit a beer can at ten paces. As much as he wants to just unload on this fucker, he's as likely to hit Red, or ricochet and hit Sally Rose in her room, as the crazy fucker. All those lectures about gun safety and proper marksmanship amount to something after all, apparently. Long breath, line up the sights, breath out, and squeeze. Aim (Perception + Pistols): 1d10+3+2 15 That's a very sexy +4 to the attack roll, at the expense of the zombie getting to act first. Kill the "methhead" (Dex + Pistols + Aim - Lighting): 1d10+4+2+4-2 14 If this counts as Point Blank, that's an additional +1 to the attack roll and damage before multiplier, and the result adds another +1. Methhead Damage: 1d6*2 10 10 damage, or an absurd 14 if it's point blank.
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 20:02
|
|
|
Annemarie De Lang [30 / 30 LP | 32 / 32 EP | 12 SPD | 20 / 20 ES] Annemarie stared incredulously for a moment at the ‘thing’ emerging from the burst door of the meat shed. Then, she made a face. ”Yeah alright”, she said to no one in particular, ”Good one. Did one of you dress up your dog?” As far as pranks go, it was decent enough, if somewhat ill-timed and just plain gross. ”Would have been better for Halloween, Bobby” She turned back to face the house, and sure enough, Bobby was getting to his feet. ”I’m going home now, call me when you figure ou . . . ” Annemarie never got a chance to finish her sentence, as in that moment, shots rang out from both inside the house, and from the shotgun not 3 feet away from her. ”For fucks’s sake Dave, its just a DOG!” Action > Holding action as this is clearly a bad joke
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 20:42
|
|
|
Rudy Anderson > 34 / 34 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 16 SpeedRudy Anderson (the past) posted:With each successive 'thud' of the nearby meat shed, his heart rate escalated by a beat or two per minute. Whether or not there was any real danger -- which he felt fairly safe in assuming there was, given how very dead Bobby was -- the adrenaline that was pumping through the rather well-armed group of people in his general vicinity virtually guaranteed that bullets would start flying before too long. Busy ransacking the kitchen for things he might need, he slips the cell phone and its charger into his backpack, intent on placing a call to the authorities as soon as it became convenient. Mostly, he was concerned that if he called right now he'd get distracted talking to the dispatcher, and might not duck in time if that shotgun was pointed in a random direction when it inevitably got used. Dave Lawson posted:Still, his shotgun was already aimed - all he had to do was pull the trigger. Mick posted:Long breath, line up the sights, breath out, and squeeze. pre:Ducking for cover as bullets start whizzing about. Passive: Strength (+3) / Constitution (+3) / Willpower (+3) / Dexterity (+5) / Intelligence (+5) / Perception (+5) Skill (+1) [Tech]: Craft / Computers / Electronics / Mechanic / Driving / Piloting Skill (+1) [Social]: Bureaucracy / Haggling / Intimidation / Questioning Skill (+1) [Knowledge]: First Aid / Humanities / Instruction / Research Skill (+5): Notice / Smooth Talking / Science Skill (+7): Science (chemistry) Inventory: Backpack / Sleeping Bag / Flashlight / Multitool / First Aid Kit / $105 / Cell Phone / Key Ring __________________________________________________________________________________________
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 21:46
|
|
|
Marty Kowalski "poo poo poo poo poo poo!" Marty screamed diving for cover as the guns went off all around him. Finely honed reflexes had him already seeking out hiding spots before he hit the ground. If there's one thing my daddy taught me, it's how to hide when there's trouble. Bow! Bow! Where the hell had he left his bow? pre:Stealth, staying out of sight of whatever threatening. Notice, trying to see where the bow is lying.
|
|
#
?
Oct 10, 2017 22:42
|
|
|
Outside Dave's shotgun blasts a tight pattern of buckshot into the boar, tearing a two-inch hole through one side of its ribcage and out the other. The creature's front legs momentarily give out as its muscles ripple with the force of the shot. That would've been a fast kill if the thing's heart and lungs weren't already pulled clear, but it merely staggers back to its feet, turns towards Dave, and lowers its head preparing to charge. Rudy's torch lights up Bobby. His head hangs slack to the right, missing a hunk of the muscle that held it up properly. Your friend's eyes flicker between the living. Sota can't even speak. Marla's defending the door with the coat stand gripped tight like a spear. Dave stands with shotgun smoking, eyeing off a pig that should be dead twice over. Marty makes himself scarce, plucking his bow from the peg near the back door and slipping around the east side of the house. Bobby's dead eyes lock on Annemarie. Letting out a bubbling growl he lurches forward into a staggered run, hurling himself towards his neighbour, grabbing and snapping his teeth. "WHAT THE gently caress?! MOOOOOOM!" you hear from the master bedroom. The gunshot's woken up Sally Rose, but the crazed man in the hallway is focused on Red, rushing towards him to attack. The soldier brings his k-bar up as the man lunges. The knife catches him in the forearm as he charges, the blade sliding right through, and you're close enough now that you can see his blood-splattered face does not even wince. He pushes forward undeterred, his bloody teeth desperately snapping at Red. He's trying to bite you. Trying to get a clear aim and not shoot Red in the scuffle, Mick's bullet winds up low. The .38 slug hits the crazed man in the thigh, the pistol round smashing through the femur. The leg collapses out from under him, just hanging by a tenderised sheath of meat with a bullet channel through it. He doesn't pass out, or surrender, or try to retreat. He just keeps clawing at Red trying to get his jaws latched around an ankle. - Rolled a 4 for the Boar's hit location: Torso. It takes 24 dmg: Enough to knock it down. It has to spend its turn getting up. Rolled 3 for the hit location for Red's knife strike: Left arm. It takes 4 dmg. EMT attacks Red: Rolls but only just hits with a 9. You need to roll 1d10+Dex+Dodge and you're only defending against one attack, so there's no penalty. You only need to tie with his result to avoid damage... (so um... don't roll a 1). If hit, take 4 slashing dmg (which is doubled on living targets to 8) Mick hits the EMT. Rolled an 8 for location: Right leg. It takes 21 dmg, enough to effectively sever it. Randomly rolled to see who Bobby's interested in: Annemarie. Annemarie: You held your turn so you can take 1 action before Bobby reaches you (though if this is running away, I'll toss out the random roll and he'll probably find someone closer to chew on). BUT. He's missed you anyway, rolling a 7. Player's turn again. Don't get bit. Also: a successful social check will be enough to prompt either Sota or Marla into action. Note: If you don't mention a specific aim point, I'll just roll the 1d10 and use the table on p147. Otherwise the specific aim penalties are: -5 for brain -5 for spine (-4 if from rear) -2 to arms/legs
|
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 08:48
|
|
|
Mick 30/30 Life, 32/32 End, 20/20 Ess, 12 SPD .38 Pistol (6/7) [49] Did... did he just blow off the fucker's leg? It'd take some crazy-rear end poo poo for him to-... Holy gently caress, he's actually doing it. He's actually trying to get back up. And this guy's, what, an EMT? A doctor? Somebody who has no business being hopped up on some crazy-rear end Russian super-drug, or trying to kill a bunch of people in a cabin. No loving way is this real. Mick should question it, he really should, try to figure out if there's some logical explanation for all this poo poo. But he can't think of one, and if there's one thing the movies have ever taught him? It's that if this really is a horror movie? Well, everyone here is white, which means... The stoner dies first. "gently caress that!" Mick yells, apparently unprompted, pointing at the fallen human-shaped-whatever-the-hell-it-is on the ground in front of him. "And gently caress you!" He squeezes the trigger again. STAY DOWN (Dex + Pistols + Point Blank - Lighting): 1d10+4+2+1-2 14 STAY DOWN DAMAGE (Point Blank): 1d6+1*3 I hosed up the order of operations, but that should be 21 damage.
|
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 09:55
|
|
|
[quote="Rockopolis" post="477252865"] Marty Kowalski "Okay, okay, I killed it already - I can do it again. Just calm down." Marty mumbled to himself, hands shaking as he drew his bow. "Kill-zone...heart and lungs are hanging in the shack..." he whispered, hands and voice steadying as he set about the familiar task of shooting an animal. "Brain shot's all that's left." "No pain to the game we take." he whispered as he released the arrow. pre:Snap shot at the boar's brain! +1 for Point-Blank. HIT! Bow Damage; 1d8*STR (2): 1d8*2 16 Aced the damage roll, Point blank makes it 24!
|
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 11:46
|
|
|
Upstairs The first gunshot's still ringing in your ears as Mick lines up his pistol for a second shot. Sally Rose appears at the doorway, sleepy-eyed, covers wrapped around her against the cold. "Was that firewor... Oh no fucken way," She takes one glance at the two men struggling with a corpse at their feet, steps back, and slams the door. Mick's gun lights up the hallway again. The shot's on target, centre mass, right to the chest. The man on the ground doesn't even flinch, just keeps clawing at Red's legs trying to get his teeth around flesh. Out in the yard, Marty takes a moment to line up his shot as the boar starts charging towards Dave. The shot's on target. The tip of the arrow punches through the side of the boar's head. It continues on half a gallop and then collapses facedown like it's trying to headbutt the ground. Its legs twitch, but its just death throes. Second death. Whatever. Who knows. Not much time to ponder it right now--Bobby's still intent on murdering Annemarie. - Mick's Hit location: 4: Torso, 21 damage... still fighting. Boar takes 20 dmg to the head. It's dead. Proper dead.
|
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 12:07
|
|
|
Dave Lawson > 54 / 54 HP > 41 / 41 EP > 20 Speed Dave flinches a moment as the boar slides to a halt, then notices Bobby rushing at Annemarie. "Look out!," he shouts as he charges, not willing to kill a friend (even a maybe dead one) and attempts to smash him in the head with the stock of his shotgun. Buttstroke to brain - Dex+Hand Weapon(club, defaulted from axe)-Brain Target): 1d10+5+3-5 6
|
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 12:21
|
|
|
Rudy Anderson > 34 / 34 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 16 SpeedPlot posted:Rudy's torch lights up Bobby. His head hangs slack to the right, missing a hunk of the muscle that held it up properly. Your friend's eyes flicker between the living. Sota can't even speak. Marla's defending the door with the coat stand gripped tight like a spear. Dave stands with shotgun smoking, eyeing off a pig that should be dead twice over. Marty makes himself scarce, plucking his bow from the peg near the back door and slipping around the east side of the house. Bobby's dead eyes lock on Annemarie. Letting out a bubbling growl he lurches forward into a staggered run, hurling himself towards his neighbour, grabbing and snapping his teeth. There was, unfortunately, no time to think about it. He couldn't tell if Bobby was reaching out in a desperate call for help, or if his behavior was aggressive in some way. It didn't matter, though. Whatever was wrong with him, it seemed likely that it came from somewhere. It clearly wasn't any of the drugs or liquor the rest of the group had consumed last night, because nobody else seemed to be suffering the same symptoms. Had it been the pork? That would be a terrifying new reason to keep kosher, he supposed. He didn't recall if Bobby had eaten any of it, between his pounding headache and the quickly building adrenaline of the current situation, the entirety of the previous night was rather fuzzy. His instincts kicked in as the scene developed. Sota had frozen up, as had Bobby's ex-wife, though to her credit she had at least put a coat stand between herself and danger. He had taken cover near the kitchen cabinets, of which he had thankfully already taken inventory. Reaching inside, he retrieves a wrench, and catches Sota's eye with it. "Sota, catch! Don't let 'im fuckin' touch you! I think it might have been the pork, some kind of worms or disease or something!" He was, in truth, nowhere near sure of that, but it was an effort to ground Sota in reality. If he could give the man a plausible explanation for what was happening, it might snap him out of his stupor. With the man's attention caught, he tosses the wrench through the air in his general direction. pre:> Smooth Talking/Intelligence 20 > Rule of 10 (bonus to result) of +nil > Fifth level, excellent (bonus effect) of 'Social skills produce a lasting impression on the people involved, resulting in a bonus of +4 on all future attempts in that skill involving the same people.' > Tossing a wrench to Sota. Passive: Strength (+3) / Constitution (+3) / Willpower (+3) / Dexterity (+5) / Intelligence (+5) / Perception (+5) Skill (+1) [Tech]: Craft / Computers / Electronics / Mechanic / Driving / Piloting Skill (+1) [Social]: Bureaucracy / Haggling / Intimidation / Questioning Skill (+1) [Knowledge]: First Aid / Humanities / Instruction / Research Skill (+5): Notice / Smooth Talking / Science Skill (+7): Science (chemistry) Inventory: Backpack / Sleeping Bag / Flashlight / Multitool / First Aid Kit / $105 / Cell Phone / Key Ring __________________________________________________________________________________________ Waador fucked around with this message at 14:57 on Oct 12, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 14:52
|
|
|
quote:Upstairs Sargent Major Mike "Red" Vinning > 44 / 44 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 18 SpeedGrunting in surprise as the drugged out psycho continues to move toward him Red dodges out of the former EMT's hands. DODGE: 1d10 2 +5 (Dex) +4 (Dodge) =11 Stomping on this motherfucker seems like a better idea than bending over and trying to put a knife in him so Red does his best American History X impression and lines up a curbstomp TO HIT CURBSTOMP: 1d10 3 + 5 Dex + 2 Brawling (+ 2 due to prone and point blank?) = 10 (or 12) D4 (2) x 4(3Str+1)= 8 Damage Waroduce fucked around with this message at 15:20 on Oct 12, 2017 |
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 15:07
|
|
|
Upstairs Red stomps down hard. The maniac makes no attempt to shy away from the blow. Your foot smashes his head into the floorboards and you hear the side of his skull crack. His limbs spasm with the impact. Well, his central nervous system's still hooked up at least... his skull's like a half cracked egg now, you're sure just one more strike will do it, and yet he still claws and scrambles weakly at Red's leg. Out back, Dave rushes at Bobby. He swings the shotgun's walnut stock but the man's jerky, unnatural movements (and the fact that his head is hanging to one side) throws off the blow. Bobby turns on Dave, cock-headed and rabid and murderous. By the back door, Red snaps Sota out of his daze. The big farmer catches the wrench in one meaty hand and nods resolutely. "I'll uh... we'll uh... we gotta put him down til we get help!" Spurred to action he jumps down off the porch and rushes over to help Dave and Annemarie. "Bobby don't you hurt that nice lady now!" He calls out, swinging the wrench down. It hammers into former boss's clavicle, shattering the bone. The collarbone's meant to be one of the worst ones to break, maybe after the kneecap. But there's no scream, no flinch, just this insane teeth-bared grimace on his face. - Red deals 8dmg to the madman's brain. He's visibly injured by this. One more blow should destroy the brain. The zed has -2 from only having one functional leg, and hey it helped: He rolls an 8, miss. Now you just have to dispatch him without him rolling a 10 or you rolling a 1  We'll diverge the upstairs/outside timelines slightly to keep things moving: Red and Mick, feel free to take your actions now. Sota hits Bobby in the torso for 8 dmg. Not enough to knock him down or impede him Just got Annemarie's action to go, then we'll resolve the turn downstairs.
|
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 16:02
|
|
|
Sargent Major Mike "Red" Vinning > 44 / 44 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 18 Speed "What the gently caress....." breathes Red as he stands over the still living EMT. "I think I got this if you want to go investigate those other gunshots, I'll be down stairs shortly with my rifle in short order" He says over his shoulder Red shakes his head and winds up another stomp loving druggies man, Colombia didn't have poo poo on this..... Stomp to hit: 1d10 5 + 5(dex) + 2 (Brawling) + 2 (Prone/Point Blank) = 14 D4 (2) x 4(3Str+1)= 8 Damage
|
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 16:41
|
|
|
Annemarie De Lang [30 / 30 LP | 32 / 32 EP | 12 SPD | 20 / 20 ES] Annemarie froze while gunshots and voices erupted all around her. This quiet, isolated alpaca farm had suddenly become a crime scene. If it wasn’t for the remote location, she’d half expect to hear sirens in the next few minutes. Whatever New Year Prank this was meant to be, it had gone horribly, horribly wrong. A shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the cold morning air, and with that chill, her old instincts kicked in. Backing away from Bobby, the boar, Dave, and everybody else, Annemarie drew her pistol from her jacket and levelled it at her previous host. ”Marla, one last chance to talk some sense into your Ex.”, she thumbed the safety off to emphasize her point, ”If he comes near me, I’ll put him down.” Action >[ Social Check to prompt Marla into action [Attractiveness + Charisma]: 1d10+2+3 7 Anniemarie isn’t bluffing so I’m not using smooth talking; I’m just adding attractiveness and charisma to the roll. If I’m not doing it right, and I’m probably not, please let me know what skills and or bonuses I should be using. Also, apologies for the delay, my first update of the day is usually mid-morning, California Time.
|
|
#
?
Oct 12, 2017 19:15
|
|
|
Upstairs Red stamps down again. The skull gives way, audibly. With a shattered ankle, busted face, broken fingers, a knifewound through his arm, a bullet through his femur and another in his chest, the crazed intruder is finally put down. The hallway looks like a murder scene and smells like a sewer pipe burst in a butcher shop. It's quiet up here now, but as the gunshot ringing in your ears subsides you can still hear shouts from downstairs. Marla looks across to Annemarie. She'd been reluctant to leave her post guarding the back door against these things, but at Annemarie's urging she gulps and jumps down off the porch to join the fray. "Goddamn you Bobby for makin' us do this," she mutters, eyes watery. With the coat rack grasped like a catchpole she rushes towards Bobby, trying to catch up his tattered neck between the arms of the rack and hold him in place. - Red deals 8 more dmg to the brain. 16 total. Ded. Bobby swipes at Dave but rolls a miss. Marla's trying to pin Bobby in place: add +2 to melee attacks against him this round. Players are up again. Good rule idea from Piell that we'll institute: When targeting locations, if you miss by half the penalty or less, you still hit but it's a normal strike. If you miss by more than half the penalty, it's still a miss. Note that even against the undead there's value in a "normal" hit, since if it's high enough damage it can knock them down (and EVENTUALLY their body does just get pulped too much to be a threat).
|
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2017 06:02
|
|
|
Annemarie De Lang [30 / 30 LP | 32 / 32 EP | 12 SPD | 20 / 20 ES] Anniemarie nodded at Marla and walked towards Bobby, while leveling her pistol at Bobby's head. One way or another, it was time to end this. "Dave, Sota, knock him out if you can. Otherwise, stand clear and I'll take care of it." Action: Annemarie will aim a point blank shot at Bobby's head. If Dave and Sota can't take Bobby down by melee, Annemarie will end the turn with a called shot to the head; roll to follow, unless you'd like me to make the roll now.
|
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2017 06:43
|
|
|
Rudy Anderson > 34 / 34 HP > 32 / 32 EP > 16 Speed The melee in the kitchen was rapidly deteriorating into something equivalent to a barroom brawl, with Sota and Marla going to town on Bobby with their makeshift weapons, Annemarie getting ready to drop a clip into their friend, and Dave approaching with what he hoped was an intent to not fire a shotgun into a confined area filled with his drinking buddies. For his own part, Rudy kept the flashlight fixated on Bobby, and he kept his eyes sharply tuned to the situation, trying to take it all in. Paying close attention was the only defense his mind had against an otherwise inevitable descent into madness. If he could just diagnose the problem, or reverse engineer an explanation for what was going on, he might be able to stave that off. Was this an illness related to bad pork? Even if that were the case, how was Bobby still able to move with that wound in his neck? What was motivating his aggressive approach? The situation had provided no clear answers yet ...but if he watched carefully, he might be able to learn something. pre:> Notice/Perception 19 (five successes) Keeping my flashlight on Bobby. Carefully watching the fight to learn what I can. Passive: Strength (+3) / Constitution (+3) / Willpower (+3) / Dexterity (+5) / Intelligence (+5) / Perception (+5) Skill (+1) [Tech]: Craft / Computers / Electronics / Mechanic / Driving / Piloting Skill (+1) [Social]: Bureaucracy / Haggling / Intimidation / Questioning Skill (+1) [Knowledge]: First Aid / Humanities / Instruction / Research Skill (+5): Notice / Smooth Talking / Science Skill (+7): Science (chemistry) Inventory: Backpack / Sleeping Bag / Flashlight / Multitool / First Aid Kit / $105 / Cell Phone / Key Ring __________________________________________________________________________________________
|
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2017 06:47
|
|
|
Marty Kowalski Glancing at the struggle on the stoop, Marty figured they had it well in hand and figured it was best to keep an eye out instead of getting in the way. "I'm not going to put an arrow in Bobby, drat it." He muttered as he kept watch, arrow nocked and ready pre:Keep head down and eyes open.
|
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2017 16:14
|
|
|
Dave Lawson > 54 / 54 HP > 41 / 41 EP > 20 Speed Bobby lashes out at Dave, who dodges back. "Goddamnit Bobby!" he shouts, before Marla comes up behind Bobby and hooks with with the coat rack. With him tangled up, it's much easier for Dave to smash Bobby in the head with his shotgun. Shotgun butt to brain: Dex+Hand Weapon(club, defaulted from axe)-Brain Target+2: 1d10+5+3-5+2 9 Damage: 1d8*6 18
|
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2017 17:56
|
|
|
Out back Even held in place and surrounded, with guns drawn on him, Bobby refuses to surrender or even acknowledge anyone's talking, just continuing to claw and snap his teeth. Dave swings the shotgun's stock around. With Bobby held in place the impact is solid, maybe even more than you'd expected. You hear a crack as the thin bone of the temple is punched in. He slumps downward, falling out of the arms of the coat rack and collapsing on the snow, his legs tangled under him and his head lolling back exposing the neck wound that would've dumped all the blood out of his brain in seconds. He's still. Properly dead this time, same as the boar and the one upstairs, and you get a moment to catch your breath. (following the fight, Dave is down 2 endurance points, Red is down 4.) Rudy got a good enough look to see that Bobby didn't even raise an arm to defend himself, or even shy away when Dave swung at him. He should've seen the blow coming, at least thrown up a forearm, even kids at a baseball game do that when a flyball speeds towards the bleachers too fast to even think about. But he didn't even flinch, or cry out when the wrench smashed his collarbone. It's like he couldn't feel pain, and had no instinct for self preservation. He should've been in agony with that smashed clavicle, but he was still trying to swing his arm even and grasp out even as the ends of the shattered bone would've been grinding together. You've heard rabid animals are hard to scare, stories of squirrels chasing down full grown people, that sort of thing. But they don't usually walk around with broken bones, their carotid bit out, and eight of their 10 pints of blood spilled already onto the ground. Marla stabs the bloodied end of the coat rack into the snow, keeping her gaze away from the corpse. "What in the goddamn hell got into you, Bobby" she murmurs, trying to hide that she's wiping at her eyes as she turns back towards the house. "I gotta check on my girl," she announces. Sota nervously eyes the treeline, the pipe wrench grasped tight in his big mitts. The forest's quiet, or at least you can't hear anything out there over the chorus of the alpacas' concerned humming. "What now?" Sota whispers urgently. "What the heck do we do now?"
|
|
#
?
Oct 14, 2017 04:09
|
|
|
Mick 30/30 Life, 32/32 End, 20/20 Ess, 12 SPD .38 Pistol (5/7) [49] Mick was supposed to go downstairs to help, to try to put Bobby down. All he could do was stand on the stairs and watch, take in his death and their lives going completely to poo poo. He sits on the stairs, staring into space for a long moment, trying to figure out how to handle this, what to do next. There's really only one thing that comes to mind. "Somebody pour one out for him."
|
|
#
?
Oct 14, 2017 04:31
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 25, 2024 09:11 |
|
|
Annemarie De Lang [30 / 30 LP | 32 / 32 EP | 12 SPD | 20 / 20 ES] Anniemarie watched as Bobby finally went down. So much for non-lethal; that skull crack was not survivable in the best of circumstances, least of all out here. She thumbed the safety back on, and placed the pistol again into her right jacket pocket. With her left hand, she fished out another cigarette and placed it between her lips as she sauntered to the porch. Leaning her lower back against the weathered wood, Anniemarie took a zippo from the 'fifth pocket' of her jeans and trick-flipped it open, lighting it at the same time. Bringing the flame to the cigarette, she paused, then said, "Great Party Bobby" while the clenching the filter between her teeth, before finally lighting up the smoke. She took a deep drag, held it for a good long time, before exhaling, "Really appreciate the invite, please do remember me for the next one, would ya?" To any casual observer, she was just a woman having a smoke next to the bleeding, battered body of a presumed friend. Privately, she was taking stock of the situation, of her surroundings, and her companions. Especially her companions. Someone was responsible for this, and it might just be these 'friends' of the recently deceased. Maybe it was a joke, a prank gone wrong. Someone thought it would be funny to spike Bobby's beer and dress up a dog. Yeah, it wouldn't be the first time she witnessed a 'joke' gone bad, and before anyone knew it, there were two bodies on the floor, and one dead pet. Taking one last pull of the cigarette, she placed the butt between her curled middle finger and thumb, before flicking it upwards and into a nearby snowbank. She tilted her head back and exhaled straight up into the still dark sky, "Anybody hurt?" Action > Studying her 'companions' for signs of trouble and or 'tells' [Notice + Perception + Situational Awareness]: 1d10+3+4+2 12
|
|
#
?
Oct 14, 2017 06:01
|
|