Wow this thread seems to have exploded overnight (it's currently 8:00am here), this may force a rethink of how I was going to do things...
Post Apocalyptic Western: Episode 2
- Thread starter PedroSteckecilo
- Start date
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tired of playing card games Joe stands up, bings his bottle back to the bar and asks the bartender for a place to rest. luckely there's still a room left he pays and goes to bed.
It is alot of people I suppose, especially for one Game Master. Options?
[]Curse wildly and choose an option
[]Curse wildly and don't bother with the options
[]Carry on and hope it works, let no one else join.
[]I am the Game Master, worship everything I say
[]Enlist the help of another Game Master.
[]I am the Game Master I do not share power
[]Split the group into separate topics (This may create confusion for the game master).
[]Split the group up and get another game mater to take one group.
[]Give up and go back to playing with the 0 other people who want to play with you in real life ^^
[]Invent a random other solution that makes everything work
[]Invent a random other solution that works.... lol on some people....
[]Curse wildly and choose an option
[]Curse wildly and don't bother with the options
[]Carry on and hope it works, let no one else join.
[]I am the Game Master, worship everything I say
[]Enlist the help of another Game Master.
[]I am the Game Master I do not share power
[]Split the group into separate topics (This may create confusion for the game master).
[]Split the group up and get another game mater to take one group.
[]Give up and go back to playing with the 0 other people who want to play with you in real life ^^
[]Invent a random other solution that makes everything work
[]Invent a random other solution that works.... lol on some people....
I'm going to try to keep going, if anyone wants to apply for the newly available position of backup Game Master please let me know...
GAME MASTER TURN
As you all mull about the tavern, the more observant of you notice a thin man dressed in shabby clothing slowly slink into the bar and make his way towards the bartender. They suddenly begin conversing rapidly in hushed tones, the thin man withdrawing a strange object and a piece of crumpled paper from under his jacket which he places on the counter.
?Is that it?? The Bartender asks expectantly.
?Yeah, I?ve finally found the essential clue, after all these years, now all we need to do is look for it!? The Thin man replies.
?This is dangerous talk,? The Bartender hisses loudly ?Do you know what would happen if The Captain found out? He?d not only kill you, he?d kill anyone whose ever met you!?
?I?m not afraid of him,? The thin man states dismissively, letting out a yelp as the sharp featured bartender grabs him by the shirt and hauls him slightly over the bar.
?You fool, you should be afraid, The Captain is a VERY dangerous man?? The Bartender says.
Suddenly the tavern goes silent, the myriad of confused voices growing quieter and quieter until only the barely audible hum of the neon Bar sign can be heard. From the sandy streets outside the tavern, a great many shuffling footsteps can be heard and then suddenly, before anyone can react, a torrent of well armed men file into the tavern, taking up positions around the entrance to the bar. They?re a mean looking bunch, equipped with a variety of shotguns, pistols, axes, bats and knives. The men then part, revealing a slim, cruel looking man with a wide brimmed fedora and a long curled goatee which he is currently teasing with two of his fingers. His gaudy cowboy boots are steel toed and heeled, making a loud thump as he climbs the small set of stairs in front of the tavern. Beneath his heavy black overcoat, the telltale bulges of a pair of heavy firearms can be seen. His face is bathed in red as he stands beneath the neon bar sign, his cool eyes scanning the bar patrons, his gaze finally settling on the thin man standing at the bar. The Thin Man?s eyes grow wide and he suddenly makes a dash for the window. With blinding speed the newcomer quickly draws a modified Mauser Broomhandle and snaps of a quick shot, which strikes the fleeing man right between his shoulder blades. The thin man folds like a kite and collapses on the floor, his breaths ragged and shallow. The Bearded Man?s cruel eyes scan the rest of the bar patrons and finally settle on the wounded Ex-Sgt. Bartleby on the floor.
?Well, Well, what have we here, a dirty rebel all trussed up like a Christmas present? The Bearded Man states in a thick German accent. ?You should bring a fine price from the feds.?
?Boss,? One of his henchmen interrupts. ?We should run the lot of them in, I?d bet quite a few of these folk are worth a pretty penny to the Bounty Office.?
?Good thinking, listen up you rabble, I am Alexi Mazlakopf, enforcer for The Captain, the master of this little town, and you are all under arrest, come quietly and maybe the feds will let you go, resist and I don?t mind hauling the lot of you in as corpses.? He says with a laugh.
His men all bring their weapons to bear, prepared to fire at the first signs of trouble and Mazlakopf departs with a stylish swish of his long coat and a devilish laugh.
TURN:
[Arlonious]
The conversation between the stranger and bartender was of little interest, and the approach mob was heard before they entered. Not willing to get involved unnecessarily I stealthily leaped over the counter and prepared several broken shards. As the men came in my attention focused on them and upon hearing their hostile intent I aimed at the goons by targeting them noisily breathing, unaware of my presence. A way out did not seem possible without confrontation, so I waited for the confusion to begin.
"I just hope the quietest henchmen are shot first", I thought, readying
[Arlonious]
The conversation between the stranger and bartender was of little interest, and the approach mob was heard before they entered. Not willing to get involved unnecessarily I stealthily leaped over the counter and prepared several broken shards. As the men came in my attention focused on them and upon hearing their hostile intent I aimed at the goons by targeting them noisily breathing, unaware of my presence. A way out did not seem possible without confrontation, so I waited for the confusion to begin.
"I just hope the quietest henchmen are shot first", I thought, readying
My character has initiative I believe to do the action I describe, as my character is uninterested in strange things and is an expert survivalist, a keen ear from hunting. The move indicated where done in appropriate time scale and I understand that I won't be able to attack or flee until my next turn. Please tell me if I am out of bounds, although this does fit my character
TURN
Rick, temporarily dumpfounded by the sudden turn of events, very slowly gathers up his backpack, and whispers "To your first question i would say that We're in a very VERY thight spot, and to answer your second question, I wouldn't know, I came in through the front door. Though that way seems a bit occupied at the moment"
He gestures meekly at the collection of armed men blocking the most obvious way out.
He leans closer and whispers "Good tidings to you, mr Sole-Soldier. I'm Rick, and I'll be your doctor for the evening. In any other situation, I would be most pleased to meet you", holds out his hand in the regular hand-shaking motion, and smiles.
He looks up at the man with the twirly beard, and waits for something to happend.
Rick, temporarily dumpfounded by the sudden turn of events, very slowly gathers up his backpack, and whispers "To your first question i would say that We're in a very VERY thight spot, and to answer your second question, I wouldn't know, I came in through the front door. Though that way seems a bit occupied at the moment"
He gestures meekly at the collection of armed men blocking the most obvious way out.
He leans closer and whispers "Good tidings to you, mr Sole-Soldier. I'm Rick, and I'll be your doctor for the evening. In any other situation, I would be most pleased to meet you", holds out his hand in the regular hand-shaking motion, and smiles.
He looks up at the man with the twirly beard, and waits for something to happend.
TURN
Jago, still sitting hunched over at the bar, back to the door, seems totally unaware of the events going on around him and save for a lazy glance at the thin man who lies slowly dying on the floor seems thouroughly engrossed in his bottle of tequila.
Unnoticed by others Jagos dark eyes flicker to the strange object and crumpled paper still sitting on the bar.
His mustache twitches.
Jago, still sitting hunched over at the bar, back to the door, seems totally unaware of the events going on around him and save for a lazy glance at the thin man who lies slowly dying on the floor seems thouroughly engrossed in his bottle of tequila.
Unnoticed by others Jagos dark eyes flicker to the strange object and crumpled paper still sitting on the bar.
His mustache twitches.
awoken from his sleep Joe crawls out of bed to the top of the stairs he sees that things are getting murky so he prepares for a fight and takes aim.
TURN:
This is always how it happened. Bartelby had been living for a while, and he'd discovered a pattern to life. Just when you were lying on the floor in a worse condition than you'd been in months, not able to stand, smelling of alcohol; That's when they burst in with guns. These people weren't goons though. They didn't break in because they were thirsty. They had a purpose. They had Alexi Mazlakopf. Bartelby had only ever heard stories of the man, rumors, legends. None of them good of course, but still. If you've got legends, well, you have legends. it's hard to go much past legendary.
Bartelby put that aside for a moment and considered the most appropriate way to avoid adding to the myths of Mazlakopf. Running was out of the question, blood was returning back to his leg but not enough to stand, let alone run. "Besides" thought Bartelby, "look at the guy who ran. It didn't work out too well for him."
That was it! That was why they were here! That man knew something, something big. And now he was dying and time was running out!
What did Bartelby have? "Knife? Guns? They'd shoot me immeidiatly. Grenades ... and a room full of people ... this could get interesting fast." Bartelby Closely examined the nearest gun totting madman. Sure enough, the guards looked sadistically trigger happy. Bartelby was amazed as he thought "This could actually work"
"Hello Rick. My name's Bartelby. All hells about to break loose. In maybe 20 seconds there's going to be an explosion in the far corner. When that happens I'm going to go over to the wounded man. You're medical skills could be invaluable. On the other hand, if you'd prefer to stand in the cross fire of what is about to become a very large shoot out, you have my blessings." And with that Bartelby slowly and secretively rolled one of his grenades to a less inhabited corner of the bar, counted to 15 and started to crawl.
This was going to be a long day.
This is always how it happened. Bartelby had been living for a while, and he'd discovered a pattern to life. Just when you were lying on the floor in a worse condition than you'd been in months, not able to stand, smelling of alcohol; That's when they burst in with guns. These people weren't goons though. They didn't break in because they were thirsty. They had a purpose. They had Alexi Mazlakopf. Bartelby had only ever heard stories of the man, rumors, legends. None of them good of course, but still. If you've got legends, well, you have legends. it's hard to go much past legendary.
Bartelby put that aside for a moment and considered the most appropriate way to avoid adding to the myths of Mazlakopf. Running was out of the question, blood was returning back to his leg but not enough to stand, let alone run. "Besides" thought Bartelby, "look at the guy who ran. It didn't work out too well for him."
That was it! That was why they were here! That man knew something, something big. And now he was dying and time was running out!
What did Bartelby have? "Knife? Guns? They'd shoot me immeidiatly. Grenades ... and a room full of people ... this could get interesting fast." Bartelby Closely examined the nearest gun totting madman. Sure enough, the guards looked sadistically trigger happy. Bartelby was amazed as he thought "This could actually work"
"Hello Rick. My name's Bartelby. All hells about to break loose. In maybe 20 seconds there's going to be an explosion in the far corner. When that happens I'm going to go over to the wounded man. You're medical skills could be invaluable. On the other hand, if you'd prefer to stand in the cross fire of what is about to become a very large shoot out, you have my blessings." And with that Bartelby slowly and secretively rolled one of his grenades to a less inhabited corner of the bar, counted to 15 and started to crawl.
This was going to be a long day.
Some comments on fighting.
How successful your attack is will likely depend on...
A) How Well Described it is.
B) The Logical Difficulty of said attack based on your characters ability.
C) How much you try to accomplish with a single strike (attempting to take out 10 guys with 1 shot is liable to only net you 5 at the most, for example)
D) I'm going to try and let everyone get a taste of the action here so I'm going to "avoid" posting the results of any given attacks until most of the players have taken their turns.
How successful your attack is will likely depend on...
A) How Well Described it is.
B) The Logical Difficulty of said attack based on your characters ability.
C) How much you try to accomplish with a single strike (attempting to take out 10 guys with 1 shot is liable to only net you 5 at the most, for example)
D) I'm going to try and let everyone get a taste of the action here so I'm going to "avoid" posting the results of any given attacks until most of the players have taken their turns.
GAME MASTER REACTION
Bartleby's grenade rolls into the corner of the room inhabited purely by a ratty old table, a juke box spewing some aweful country song and a few rats. It then promptly explodes, sending the jukebox flying smack dab into one of the trigger happy mercenaries, pinning him to the floor with a grusome squish.
The rest of the mercenaries eyes grow wide and they scan the room angrily.
"Kill Them All!" The Second In Command screams, and the lot of them open fire.
Bartleby's grenade rolls into the corner of the room inhabited purely by a ratty old table, a juke box spewing some aweful country song and a few rats. It then promptly explodes, sending the jukebox flying smack dab into one of the trigger happy mercenaries, pinning him to the floor with a grusome squish.
The rest of the mercenaries eyes grow wide and they scan the room angrily.
"Kill Them All!" The Second In Command screams, and the lot of them open fire.
Turn:
"I could really do without bullets in me for today". John jumps to the floor and has a look around for any windows.
"That's it!" he says to himself. Trying desperately to make his way underneath it without being seen he takes a seat on the floor near it, he slowly stands up hoping the attackers will be pre-occupied with the rest of the people. John tries desperately to jump outside the window and hide outside it until the bullets stop.
"I could really do without bullets in me for today". John jumps to the floor and has a look around for any windows.
"That's it!" he says to himself. Trying desperately to make his way underneath it without being seen he takes a seat on the floor near it, he slowly stands up hoping the attackers will be pre-occupied with the rest of the people. John tries desperately to jump outside the window and hide outside it until the bullets stop.
Turn:
A wayward bullet shatters Roland's whiskey glass in his hand. His head snaps up as he looks over the fight near the door way. A slow smirk crawls across his face.
"You picked the wrong day to mess with me..."
Roland kicks over the table that he was drinking at, whips out both of his six shooters and empties them at the soldiers.
While he fires at the intruders, he shouts over to the medic, cowering on the ground.
"Go check on the man outside."
'He has something of mine..." He adds under his breath
A wayward bullet shatters Roland's whiskey glass in his hand. His head snaps up as he looks over the fight near the door way. A slow smirk crawls across his face.
"You picked the wrong day to mess with me..."
Roland kicks over the table that he was drinking at, whips out both of his six shooters and empties them at the soldiers.
While he fires at the intruders, he shouts over to the medic, cowering on the ground.
"Go check on the man outside."
'He has something of mine..." He adds under his breath
turn:
Well, it had worked. One grenade and now what might have been a very ordered, carefully monitered removal was now degenerating into a chaotic bar fight. No one noticed the wiry man with one bum leg crawling away during a bar fight. Or at least, this was what Bartelby sincerely hoped. Bartelby guessed he had at least 10 minutes to see what he could get from the dying man, before one side won or the other. It was then that Bartelby crawled by a 7 foot man weilding a block of concrete on a chain. "Okay, I've got a good thirty minutes."
He ducked past a few patrons running this way and that and eventually reached the thin dying man. He flipped him onto his back, grabbed a beer that had fallen to the floor and poured it's contents onto his face. That cured everything these days. "Hey, are you alright? Can you talk? I'm Ex-Sgt. Bartelby Fargrounds. I'm guessing your against the people who just stormed in. I am to. What's happening? Why did they shoot you?"
Well, it had worked. One grenade and now what might have been a very ordered, carefully monitered removal was now degenerating into a chaotic bar fight. No one noticed the wiry man with one bum leg crawling away during a bar fight. Or at least, this was what Bartelby sincerely hoped. Bartelby guessed he had at least 10 minutes to see what he could get from the dying man, before one side won or the other. It was then that Bartelby crawled by a 7 foot man weilding a block of concrete on a chain. "Okay, I've got a good thirty minutes."
He ducked past a few patrons running this way and that and eventually reached the thin dying man. He flipped him onto his back, grabbed a beer that had fallen to the floor and poured it's contents onto his face. That cured everything these days. "Hey, are you alright? Can you talk? I'm Ex-Sgt. Bartelby Fargrounds. I'm guessing your against the people who just stormed in. I am to. What's happening? Why did they shoot you?"
Turn:
As the men at the door began to open fire, Galt snatched Rearden and tossed him through a window. Following through the opening himself, he scampered towards his truck. Scouring the seat for his pistol, Galt becomes aware of a sharp pain in his left arm. A thin red line ran nearly the full length of his arm. He tried to move it but the cut began to well with blood. Resolving to find the medic if he was still alive, Galt pried out the piece of glass at his shoulder and continued searching for his pistol. He found it under some old clothes Rearden had used as a bed. Pistol in hand, Galt stepped over to the tavern doorway. He leveled the pistol at the back of one of the men standing in the door and fired.
As the men at the door began to open fire, Galt snatched Rearden and tossed him through a window. Following through the opening himself, he scampered towards his truck. Scouring the seat for his pistol, Galt becomes aware of a sharp pain in his left arm. A thin red line ran nearly the full length of his arm. He tried to move it but the cut began to well with blood. Resolving to find the medic if he was still alive, Galt pried out the piece of glass at his shoulder and continued searching for his pistol. He found it under some old clothes Rearden had used as a bed. Pistol in hand, Galt stepped over to the tavern doorway. He leveled the pistol at the back of one of the men standing in the door and fired.
After seeing people fly out of the window above him and people getting more guns only to re-enter the bar John knew where he was safest laying right where he was.
This is going to be my plan for most situations like this. Hopefully it'll work. I am only a petty thief after all.
Response Reaction
[Arlonious]
In the carnage I leap out sideways hurtling the glass shards with precision and force at the three shooters I had been training on. I land with a thud behind a splintered table still clutching two shards which I clumsily drop into my pouch.
"I only hope that my speed and all the noise covered my actions from being noticed", I thought
I draw my knife.
And wait
[Arlonious]
In the carnage I leap out sideways hurtling the glass shards with precision and force at the three shooters I had been training on. I land with a thud behind a splintered table still clutching two shards which I clumsily drop into my pouch.
"I only hope that my speed and all the noise covered my actions from being noticed", I thought
I draw my knife.
And wait
GAMEMASTERS REACTION TO ANYONE WHO HAS LEFT THE TAVERN DURING THIS FIGHT
Outide of the tavern are 3 jeeps armed with heavy machineguns that immediately open fire on anyone who can be seen leaving through the windows or main doors.
Outide of the tavern are 3 jeeps armed with heavy machineguns that immediately open fire on anyone who can be seen leaving through the windows or main doors.