Thas gud- Peg lihks egs. But dey giv hm gas. Don' wan ta se wat beg ass egs du ta hm.
Roach saddles his morse in silence - the thought of a gassy porkuswine is too horrible to contemplate, even for him. Sticking his AK-47 into his saddle holster, he mounts up and rides over to the other party members.
The group saddle up their mounts and set out east along the Mohawk Trail. The buildings and fortifications of Noratom fall behind them as they set out in a canter towards the looming ridges of Black Pall Mountain.
The road long ago was dirt, then paved, then set with a lattice of self-repairing nanofibers, now dirt once again. The ruins hereabouts are scarce, most material near Noratom has been stripped to use in the town. The trees begin to cluster closer and closer to the road as the riders begin to leave the outlying farmsteads behind.
The road is still crowded with refugees, all headed east through the mountains. The ruins of Grenfield lie to the east, territory that has remained wild since the Final Wars through its location near the border of Verminont. The riders see several wagons already busted down, the various drivers sweating and cursing to change out an axle or broken wheel.
The first day is spent in the company of refugees as they make their way up the winding Mohawk Trail. They camp after a few hours on the trail with a collection of travellers. The next day they head towards the small village known as West Summit.
The mountains aren't as tall as the Appalachees, but they rise up a good 2000 feet above sea level. From what they gathered before they set out, West Summit is little more than a watering station for travellers, but it will be a good place to rest themselves before heading on.
As the group approaches up the narrow trail, they see a pall of smoke rising up ahead of them. A few refugee wagons have halted, jamming up the narrow road. The refugees look fearfully at the smoke wending it's way into the brassy Joon sky.
"I reckon there's trouble brewin' fer us."
"I reckon there's trouble brewin' fer us."
Coca squints into the blazing hot sky. Out in the deep blue around the pall of smoke on the mountaintop are the winged forms of what you had thought were carrion birds or hawks, but upon closer examination seem to be acting a little too aggressive for carrion hunters.
"Odd birds. Have a hard time thinkin' they'd start that fire, though. Let's go upfront and see what's up." Roach slides off the morse's saddle, grabs his rifle and jogs towards the fron of the refugee line.
"Just a second."
Coca hooks his pack on the saddle and unwraps Nixon. He lifts the heavy rifle up and lines up a bird just to look through the scope. After he's checked out one of the birds he has a peek at what's happened on the ground.
The scope on Nixon brings the scene into focus. The birds aren't hawks or vultures, rather they are Hookbeaks, a fearsome mutated descendant of the seagull. Riding them are what can only be Hoops, the insane xenophoblic rabbit mutants that plague almost every corner of Merica these days.
Coca tries to look at the flames, but the angle he is at makes it difficult. He can see a few dead bodies on the trail, and winks of gunfire come from the summit. He happens to see one of the Hookbeaks catch a round, the large cruelly-beaked bird spiralling out of the sky and shedding its black-and-white furred rider.
Any savvy traveller knows that wild Hoop tribes are poison. They hate everyone but other Hoops, and even they get attacked half the time. Hoops on Hookbeak mounts are even more fun.
As Roach runs up several refugees yell at him.
"Hey mister, can you see what's goin' on? What's happening?"
The wagons are all jammed together. The narrowness of the mountain path precludes easy turnabouts, and the various mounts are getting nervous. The action is still about a half-mile away from you at the summit. Your eyes, trained from long years on the road, spot the details that Coca did, just not as clear. You are not sure who the riders are, but those birds are Hookbeaks, you used to brawl with them on occasion when you were in the Lake Eire area.
"Them birds are mutants, with Hoop riders. We'll pop a few outta the sky, that'll make 'em rethink this and scoot. But who's shootin' from the summit? Is it our guys?"
The folks around Roach look at him
"Probl'y refugees like us'ns. Whole trail's packed with wagons."
The front refugees start hollering back to the others in the traffic jam.
"We gotta get these wagons turned round or we're gonna get smoked!"
Everyone who can lend a hand gets off the wagons and begins trying to get the vehicles turned about. Roach's morse snorts unhappily and he gets a sense of crankiness mixed with anticipation from the empathic mutant moose.
Billy-Ray looks around, wondering if there's another way to get to the Skirmish by going overland.
The sharp cut trail goes up through deep decidouous and evergreen forest. Billy Ray can't see a real good path leading up off the trail, it would be an exhausting climb and bushwack through that mess.
Coca follows Roach up after half a minute of scoping. If possible, he's going to try to stay out of sight of the gun flashes.
"Well, if we can't climb it, we'll have to go around, I guess." Clutching his AK, Roach jumps back onto his twitchy morse. "Giddyup! Comin' through!", he yells as he guides the odd beast through the crowds, all the time looking for a likely target.
<===follows Roach.
Eva calls out to the two gentlemen as they begin to walk in the direction of the commotion. "I suggest a strategy, if we can circle around those winged riders we may have an advantage, I suggest using the element of surprise, That rifle or nixon as you call it can be used to cover us, if you provide me with sometime I can run a simulation of the anticipated events based on the route we take and the extrapolations I have computed by watching the behavior of these creatures, I believe we can use this algorithim to our advantage, if of course you will take the time to listen"
"I fink bushwhackin' round da side in dis turf may be da frigin' stupidest move Cocaman could make. No line hof smokun' wif Nixon. Hoops can check us an' bomb. An' we can't move fast now way. Calculates dat EVA. Wutcha thinks Billy-Ray? Roach?"
Tilting her head, Eva attempts to translate the broken dialect of the gentleman speaking, wondering whether it may just be the manifestation of a speech impediment or a structural deficit such as a cleft pallet. She ponders the gestures and tone of the man's voice and wonders if this is what is refered to as sarcasam or being a smart ass. Eva does not comprehend the inflection of Coca's vocal cords. In a monotone voice lacking any passion Eva straigtens her head and states. "The odds of a direct confrontation from a head on attack are 13% for us to survive based upon what we can observe". Eva pauses her eyes darting from side to side "if we can use the element of surprise and the terrian to our advantage our odds increase by 22.4% for a total success rate of 35.4%". Eva once again pauses, "if we can round up all the fighting men with a means of a ranged weapon in this caravan, then our odds once again increase by another 10%". Her eyes dart once again speeding up as she runs the complex mathematical formula in her head "If we can disable those flying mounts and fight the hybrid rabbit mutants on foot then our chances once more increase"
Coca looks at EVA with a blank stare.
"Unnn. yah."
"Let's wheel dudes."
Coca looks at EVA with a blank stare.
"Unnn. yah."
"Let's wheel dudes."
"Yah, whut he said. Is we gon go kil dem Hoppers or jes watch? Ifins yall want, Billy-Ray'll rid furst- Mos' folks gon git outta da way wens a fine ole porkuswine lihk Peg here rids tru."
Eva looks around for any wheels before understanding the coloquial metaphorical representation of the word "wheels" for substituting the word move, walk, or ambulate...Eva with a blank expression follows the group.
"You can be my fullback any day. Lead on, big boy." Roach reins in Bullwinkle and lets Billy-Ray and Peg pass by.
"You can be my fullback any day. Lead on, big boy." Roach reins in Bullwinkle and lets Billy-Ray and Peg pass by.
"You can be my fullback any day. Lead on, big boy." Roach reins in Bullwinkle and lets Billy-Ray and Peg pass by.
The wagons you are travelling near are jammed up a half mile from the summit. The battle had been blocked from your sight previously from this point because of a hairpin turn in the mountainous trail. The trail is sharply cut into the side of the mountain. You can leave the trail, but there is a steep angle heading up to the summit area where the fighting is going on. Also, there is a mature forest with no observable trails in evidence clothing the slopes of these low mountains. The only quick way in is along the Mohawk Trail.
The flying Hoops seem intent on their current victims and are not advancing to your position.
Anyone have woodscrafting skills? The bush could be passable with a relevant skill combo like Climb and Survival/Tracking or the like. It's a matter of traversing brambles and such to get off the trail.
Billy-Ray sees a break in the heavy brush beside the trail that looks to his eyes to lead to where dem Hoppers be causin a rukus.
"Gid-yup Peg! Yee-Ha!"
Peg lets loose a mighty 'Squeee' as Billy-Ray guides him forward.
Spying a hidden game path dipping down to the Mohawk Trail, Billy Ray spurs his porcine steed up the grade. Peg's spines catch understory brush leaves, giving him the appearance of a vegetable mutant after a bit. The large pigupine breaks enough of a trail that the others can follow along.
Anyone can follow with with either a DC12 Ride check or a DC15 Dex check. Everyone following Billy Ray (and BR himself) please roll me a natural d20 roll in addition to anything else.
ride roll
rideroll=13
"Shortcut! Sweet."
The group whoops it up and rides forward into the brush. Large green squirrels explode up trees chattering angrily as the four riders make their way up the mountain's steep sides.
They ride for a few minutes, then come to a logged out area. The logging was obviously done quite a while ago, the stumps are old and silvered. New growth seems to have been kept trimmed down and there looks to be several charcoal piles scattered about. Out on the cleared area is a flattened summit area with six wagons parked in a loose circle. One wagon burns, a thick pall of smoke rising from its charring frame. Several bodies lie on the ground, as do several Hookbeak carcasses.
You all can see a few defenders shooting up at the Hoops, and being shot at in return. One of the Hoops hurls a missile at a running defender and it breaks on him. He erupts into flame, screeching and rolling on the stony ground.
Roach dismounts and quickly ties Bullwinkle's harness to a nearby tree. "No funny business, Winkly. I need you later to get to Nu Ork." He seizes the AK again and runs to the edge of the clearing, kneeling down and carefully aiming at a mutant bird.
Large green squirrels explode up trees chattering angrily as the four riders make their way up the mountain's steep sides.
Coca gets off his trusty steed.
Can we effectively engage the hoops from where we are. Do I have line of sight to them? How many, how many groups? Rough range?
Coca wants to start shooting. He chambers a round into Nixon as he dismounts.
Billy-Ray looks to his new friends to see hows they gonna bring da fight to dese 'Oppers. He waits atop Peg, hefting a trowin rok, to see how he will integrate his standard tactics ( best described as 'Git Em') into their actions.
Eva starts to talk in beeps and bings processing a verbal code in binary, she waves her arms in the air and around her frame as electricity cracks and sparks around her form, a blue field strong with static electricity covers her body. As it completes the covering of her form her binary dialec ceases but the glowing field remains.
Eva begins to concentrate at the flight pattern of the attacking force trying to make sence of any pattern if it is available.
The airborne Hoops screech and holler as their Hookbeak mounts caw ugly seagull cries over the battle. E.V.A deduces that the Hoops are circling and keeping up suppression fire until one works up the nerve to dive towards the wagons and attack directly. It would most likely be a bravery ritual of some sort.
There is a pair of small shed-like buildings just past a windbreak of trees on the summit. There is also some concrete pillbox structures, more than likely some sort of outhouses for resting travellers. It's really hard to make out more than that, thanks to the grade the group is standing on.
The group is still sheltered by the trees, but once they move forward they will be totally exposed to view.
"Brothas. Coca's plan iz we all just start shootin an' surprise deez wabbits. Who can do da heavy bich naecha call to start us off togetha?"
"And mebbe spreads us out a bit case they nades us."
"Sure. We should move away a bit from our tied-up mounts, as they might have more of them rockets. Shoot the birds out underneath them Hoops - the Billy-Ray runs in and cracks their heads. I'm going for a close target."
Coca rests the rifle against a tree and lines the rider up. A second or two before he fires he whispers the word "delete".
Nixon, damage (rng mods considered): (1d20 6-2=18, 2d12=18)
Eva will walk over to V 19 pulling out her crossbow and loading it, that's her action mighty impressive!
Billy-Ray needs ta get a touch closer. He runs up the hill to M12, then takes cover by the concrete building.