2020 Q3 Interlude Opportunity

[Stoic]

Describe a time when your character realized they were way over their head. After doing so, please take a Benny, and make a roll on the Experience and Wisdom Heroes Journey Table. If you get a result that you don't think makes sense for your character, please message me via Dischord and we can work it out.

[Sig]

Experience and Wisdom 12

1d20: [12] = 12 - He’s traveled far and wide, and he knows a lot about the world that could come
in handy. Your character gains a +2 on any Common Knowledge rolls related to
geography and understanding the people and places of North America. He also
gains a +2 on Survival and Networking checks in North America.

Fort Detroit/Wilds
Afternoon
Round 0

Sig recalled the first time he had ever been thrown into real combat. As a member of the Gloomtown militia, life had been pretty easy, especially for a large grackletooh. Wrangle the occasional drunk, work security at the Dres Marbles Left concert. The Arcane Company thugs tended to take care of anything big that might come through their arcane gate, and the militia would be there as backup, just in case.

And then came Geist. Sig recalled the swarm of undead minions, swinging his ion hammer around him, trying not to misstep and trip on the pile of bodies and body parts stacked around him as they kept coming -- or got up from the piles. The Death’s Head transport above, raining down death and destruction on the small town. And then came the annihilation wave, and Sig saw his brief life flash before his eyes. His hammer dropped as he watched his end approach. Undead claws sank into his scales, drawing blood, dragging him down.

And then he watched Thrudh of the Black Company catch the destructive beam in some kind of magical bag, sacrificing himself to save the city of Gloom, and his heart was renewed. With a roar, he burst through the pile of undead swarming over him, tossing bodies aside as, with renewed vigor, he swung his hammer, crushing skulls and ribs. He would live! He would honor that sacrifice.

***

Character Tracker

Sig Character Sheet
Parry:9 (-1 cover); Toughness: Melee: 22 (8)/Ranged: 24 (10)
Bennies: 5/4
Arcane Resistance/Improved: Arcane skills targeting the hero suffer a −4 penalty (even if cast by allies!); magical damage is reduced by 4.
Winter’s Heart: 10/10 PPE; smite and slow

• Sloth (2 PPE, Range Smarts d6, 5r): frost condenses around the target, slowing the target)
  • Halves the target’s total movement each round (round up). With a raise, movement is also an action. The target automatically attempts to shake off the effects of sloth at the end of each of his next turns by making a Spirit roll.
  • Area of Effect (+2 or +3): MBT or LBT
  • Strong (+1): Spirit roll to shake the effect is at -2.
  • Greater Sloth (+2): The target cannot run, and with a raise is Vulnerable.
• Smite (2 PPE, Range Smarts d6, 5r): Weapon grows cold and glows an icy blue)
  • Increase damage +2, raise +4
  • Additional Recipients (+1 per target)
  • Greater Smite (+2): Damage +4 MD, Raise +6 MD

Assassin: +2 to damage foes when Vulnerable or assassin has The Drop.
Block/Improved: +2 Parry, ignore 2 points of Gang Up bonuses.
Brawny: Strength +1 die type for encumbrance
Brave: +2 vs. Fear, -2 to rolls on Fear table
Dodge/Improved: -2 to all ranged attacks against him unless surprised, and +2 when evading area effects.
Combat Reflexes: +2 Spirit to recover from being Shaken or Stunned.
First Strike: Once per turn, free Fighting attack against an opponent when they move within reach
Improved Arcane Resistance: +4 Armor vs. magic, +4 to resist magic
Improved Nerves of Steel: Ignore 2 Wound modifiers
Iron Jaw: +2 to Soak and Vigor rolls to avoid Knockout Blows.
Prehensile Tail: Extra non-movement action. Ignore 2 points of MAP
Regeneration: Natural healing roll every day for Wounds and Injuries.
Soldier: Free reroll on Vigor vs. environmental hazards; Strength +1 die type for encumbrance
Titan Belt: +2 Size, +4 Toughness, +2 die types Strength
Thunderer: 8/8 x 2 reloads (8)
Plasma Ejector: 45/48 x 2 reloads (48)
NG-59 Ion Pistol: 20/20 x 2 reloads (20)

• Grenade: AP 1/1

NG-LG6: 20/20

• Grenades: Plasma 6/6

Armor Piercing Grenades x 2
Fragmentation Grenades x 4
High Explosive Grenades x 3
Plasma Grenades x 2
Rockets Launcher: 4 mini-missiles
IRMS: 4/4
First Aid Kit: 3/3
Rations: 7

Unclaimed Loot

11 generic laser rifles (Range 24/48/96, Damage 3d6, RoF1, AP 4)

[Alison]

Experience and Wisdom 1d20: [10] = 10 = Select one Background Edge regardless of requirements. Selected Luck.

Alison wept, cradling her brother's body in her lap while their home burned down around them. He looked almost peaceful, his head resting on her legs and his eyes closed, as if he were sleeping.

Their master had been the first to fall; she had been a good woman, and had taken them in when their talents first began to develop years ago.

But the only thing small minded people hate and fear more than what they do not understand is what they think they do understand, and everyone thinks they understand necromancy. In the eyes of the mob, necromancy = bad. Never mind the peace necromancers can bring to lost souls. Never mind the help they can give to communities. Never mind any of it.

Ultimately, it wasn't monsters who came for them, but neighbors. People she knew. People she'd helped, and laughed with, and even loved. They came in the night and they took away the bodies of the two people she needed most in this world.

She herself had only been spared by accident; the initial blow she had taken knocked her unconscious and she supposed they had mistaken her for dead.

After a time, perhaps an hour or perhaps a day, she stood up and set to work, gathering materials from the ruins of her once home and starting the spell. It took a long time, and she had to start over several times, but eventually she had it right and she called back her brother's spirit.

His first words to her were, "Don't worry, little sister. It's all going to be okay. Our luck is going to change."

That was Clarence, all right. Ever the optimist, even from beyond the grave.

[Serival Drumm]

OOC Comments

Experience & Wisdom 1d20: [8] = 8
She always gets a strange tingling in the back of her neck when things are about
to go all pear-shaped. She’s seen enough trouble to know when it’s coming. Your
character has the Danger Sense Edge.

Serival and Callis ran through the Maze. It was one of many games played by their Fae... abductors? Adoptors? Enslavers? It was almost impossible to tell how the erratic beings viewed their relationship--or even if such was consistent. In any case, the Maze was simply that--a Byzantine structure of hedges and stone, that twisted and turned upon itself. Periodically, the Fae would let them run the Maze, with the promise that if they actually made it through without calling for aid, they would earn their freedom.

Serival had determined a few 'rules' to the Maze--most notably, that certain barriers would move and shift in accordance with their actions. Callis, in turn, was the more physically fit of the two (not many Trimadore were inclined to physical activities, but those who were could put their long limbs to considerable good use), and was able to defeat many of the obstacles that could not be manipulated.

As a result, on the last few runs, the two of them had made it further than anyone in a generation (or so the Fae told them), and even by their own reckoning, had traveled further each time before succumbing to thirst or hunger, or being trapped in one of the Maze's many snares.

And so, they at last came to a great gate (of some stone that resembled marble, but probably wasn't), that was almost assuredly the exit. Like much of the architecture of the Maze, the gate was embossed with a bas-relief of entwined serpents. The youths hollered in triumph, and made the dash towards the gate, expecting yet another puzzle or test of ingenuity.

They were not, however, expecting the snakes to come alive, still forged of stone, to lunge out and snap at them.

Callis had long limbs, and was the more physically adept of the two, and because of this, he suffered the bite, while Serival only had a set of fangs snap shut an inch in front of his leg. Callis' arm, pierced by the fangs and then released, almost immediately turned to stone. The teens fell back, scrambling away from the serpents as fast as they could.

And then they called for aid, for there was nothing more to be done. The last time Serival saw Callis, his arm was still stone, and some of the more overt bullies among the Fae had taken to calling the Trimadore "Lefty".

[Doc Olliday]

Doc had gotten his start in his life by being the team medic for a group of wanna-be juicers. When they had finally made the big score and got the conversions they wanted, Doc became their personal physician. He monitored their health and vital signs regularly and patched them up enough so that their built in healing would not be over-burdened.

MercTown was quite a place but his friends eventually outgrew it. Turning down Mercenary gigs they finally settled on winning big and really making a name for themselves.

That was how they stumbled upon the Murderthon. His friends complaining that they needed him to come, had nearly led to a mini juicer rebellion. Truth was Doc was monitoring everyone of the gang. Back when they were wanna-bees, it had been Doc's hard work that had kept their bodies clean making them ideal for the juicer conversion.

All the way from their home in MercTown to the Murderthon Arena, his friends had talked up the events. Doc had said he was going to just sit out and in the stands. This caused another uprising as his friends had said he was already signed up as part of the team. Grumbling about his lack of physical means or physique, Doc goes along out of a sense of duty.

Doc had opted to sit the games out. But he quickly joined the games following a mini juicer rebellion. His friends insisted that they needed him.

Arrival at the arena had proved his one concern correct, he was the only non-Juicer particiapting.

Doc really couldn't tell what was off about the setup of the Murderthon. Something nagged at him from the start.

When contestants started going missing in the medical bay (which was not suited for extensive care, especially for Juicers) and the accidents in the training room, Doc got really concerned. Juicers are really hard to talk down, due to their inherent competive natures.

Through the course, he was able to keep track of all five of his Juicer friends. He however lost his footing in the Mud Pit and was about to be drowned by what he swore was an Earth Elemental. Thankfully the leader of his Juicer friends saw him struggling set the elelemntal on fire. At that moment, Doc was grateful that his friend's secret obsession with Flame Throwers had never been squelched.

The real challenge came at the end of the events when Doc was attending to the other contestants (there was no medical staff). That is when all Hell broke loose. His friends were trapped in some Dark Ritual and Doc was left to out smart a Daemonix. That Daemonix was hungry and he moved fast. Time was everything and Doc scrambled up the announcers box where the announcer was entoning a ritual. The Daemonix followed after Doc and lunged for him, but Doc had put behind the announcer, who was suddenly crushed by the arriving Daemonix.

The ritual casting broken, Doc scrambled down and out of the tower as the power left the ritual circle. As quick as he could he gathered a weapon here and activated a Juicer's Burn there. He continued to be the Daemonix's primary target and the remaining Juicers pursued the Daemonix. The Daemonix managed to catch Doc as he was getting winded and tired but that meant that the Daemonix slowed and the Juicers were on him before the Daemonix could do more than snort onto his bald head. The crushing weight of the demonic beast caused him to blank out.

It was a long standing joke that it took five Juicers to revive him but he was fine with the ribbing. He wasn't dead and that is what mattered.

HJ Table 1d20: [20] = 20
You may choose any one of the results on this table
[15-16] Professional Edge of Choice [Scholar - Healing]

[Xiang]

1d20: [5] = 5 reroll 1d20: [18] = 18 Elan

Running through the jungle, Xiang can hear his pursuers close on his tail. While technically a success, his plan to lure the small patrol of vampires away from the strange travelers he'd been tailing. Some of the interlopers bore strange weapons and mechanical armor beyond even the energy weapons some of the tribes simvan allies used.

Protecting travelers in the jungle from evil was a sacred duty for his people and he wasn't sure these strangers were equipped to fight the undead, so despite being alone he tried his best to lay a false trail to divert the blood suckers before the caught the spore of the new arrivals. And he did, it's just they noticed him as he was trying to double back.

His small cat form darted under and through brush that the larger vampires got bogged down in, but they were quicker in the clearings so he was never quite able to get enough of a lead to try and hole up somewhere. While they did try their mind powers on him when they could get more than a glance at him, his willful nature and some luck, kept the attacks at bay. So the chase continued. It didn't take long for Xiang to lose track of his heading in the blur of navigating the jungle floor at a full run.

Bursting out of the underbrush into a clearish area he finds himself in the middle of the very group he was trying to lead the vampires away from. He slides to a halt and one of them says in Spanish "Aww It's a cat...(looks behind Xiang) aaand it's being chased by vampires! Hose em down Rangers."

The strange weapons turn out to be water cannons, much to Xiangs surprise and amusement. The pursuers were as surprised by the adventurers as Xiang was and are easy pickings for the trained vampire hunters who hose them down quite effectively.

Shaking water from his pelt he looks up at them and also in Spanish, "That was effective. I apologize for leading them to you, it was not intentional."