Chiro will plan on flying to G-17 or G-18 and lay down some cover fire so the others can get in position.
Billy-Ray wan's te gittof Peg while EVA plans. Wen hits time te git movin', 'e figures te mov tru te woodz te get hisself up slope o' te bat. Dat'll let 'im be ready te jump te git or te act az bait wilst te possee get ready te jump te git.
Eva will shout instructions to the rest of the group as she starts to load her crossbow...."Aniticipate the vector the creature will take as it leaps into flight....I predict with 98% accuracy it will be at 35% trajectory...."
MMMmmmm 35% sounds about right for the beastie, thinks Chiro. Never thought of it that way before. Those heads will make it lean more back on take off I am betting. Let's see, if I was that big and had another 50lbs on my shoulder when i take off....
"Right EVA! Good idea, catch it as it beats its wings!"
OK Initiative:
Initiative modifiers:
18 E.V.A
17 Chiro (in flight to G17)
17 Drakk
16 Coca Cola
15 Billy Ray (heading upslope?)
14 Roach
The hideous two-headed monster shreiks defiance at the approaching group, launching skyward. Chiro flaps towards it, flying towards its' flank.
Chiro takes a carefully aimed shot, hoping to hit and distract the Drakk.
15 Billy Ray (heading upslope?)
Instead:
Billy-Ray will stand in the middle of his friends with his boar-spear (a long spear with a crossbar) held up. His action will be to refocus so that next round he will be able to use a readied action to watch over the group.
After formulating a plan for the group to follow, EVA seek cover while she loads her crossbow.
Chiro's and Roach's bullets strike true, causing the giant mutated bat to screech in anger, its cries echoing along the mountainside. It flies over to Chiro and snaps at him with one of its huge misshapen heads.
The slavering jaws snap shut a scant foot from Chiro and the Drakk's other mouth screeches in frustration.
Chiro plans to move, spraying it with gunfire to keep it's attention. He wants to fight defensively, actively dodging.
Coca unlimbers Nixon and fires a round at the huge wagon-sized bat.
Nixon's round ventilates one head of the Drakk, then by serendipity it exits the hideous bat and enters its second head through one bulging eye. The Drakk's screeches are cut off in mid cry, and the huge monster goes limp, tumbling out of the air and landing down the cliff of the mountain in a broken heap. Coca looks over the edge.
"Boomshakalaka."
"Bhah hah hah hah!"
looks over the cliff side
"Ah hain't 'ungry enuf te fetch hit frum down dere."
turns to Coca Cola
"Nice shootin', Tex."
What resembles a smile pours across EVA's face. "Told you my plan would work. As if dissmissing any skill possed by the man called Coca, Eva is sure it was the well laid plan that brought them sucess. Eva makes a series of musical blips and beeps unconsciously as a way of seeing her plan come to fuition. "beeep.bloop, bit bo bip beep"
"Nice. Very nice, actually. Lessee if it got to any travellers."
After the fall of the Drakk, the party moves forward to the wagon and its dead Podog haulers.
As they approach, they see a group of five beings emerging from upslope. They look to be human-descended mutants, with odd-looking patches of armorplate skin and two large feathery antennae over one cycloptic eye. The largest one, moves forward towards the group.
The mutant is male, about 5'7" and dressed in homespun like most refugees. He takes his battered cowboy hat off and smiles.
"Thankee sai for stopping that whatever-the-Hades that was. I though we was goners once that brute got done with Fluffy and Rex."
The man twists his hat a bit in his calloused hands.
"We don't gots much to give y'all but our thanks. If'n y'all need any supplies feel free to take 'em. We don't have much but we'd have nobbut but for y'alls arrival."
"I fink I just saved a few clinks worth of lead fe me bruthas, so we're still in da black. But keep yer eye open whilst I check dese uglies will ya?"
Coca checks the body of the monster (two headed bat?) and keeps his eyes open for anything else happening around him.
Coca looks down the mountainside at the twitching carcass of the Drakk. The evening's last trace of light has faded, so it is hard to tell if the giant bat is dead or clinging to life. Your guess, he's hamburger meat after that magic bullet Nixon fired off.
Coca's curiosity fades as he visualizes giant lice crawling onto him.
The mutant cycloptic refugee comes and stands next to Coca as he studies the mutant bat's corpse. His feathery antennae twitch on his forehead.
"That was some mighty fine shootin' sir."
The man sticks out his hand.
"Rolf Smiff, originally from a town called Renser. What's your handle partner?"
"Coca, Coca Cola. From Bichport. Friends call me Cocaman."
Rolf shakes Coca's hand.
"I really do appreciate you folks lending a hand like you did. It's a hard road we've been on since we left the high mountains. Lower we get, more creepy crawlies seem to come out."
The one-eyed mutant looks thoughtful.
"You folks from around here? Know if there's room in this Florda place for refugees?"
"War's comin' hereabouts. But temporary type refuge can be had."
Chiro will land close to EVA and fold his wings up, hoping to say a few good word to the refugees.
"There is a mess coming, but there is plenty of folks willing to take in those that need a place."
The cycloptic-mutant folks look a bit downcast, but they sigh and get on with things.
"'Bout what we figured," Rolf sighs. "Guess we'll have to abandon the wagon and start on foot to Florda. Cain't pull it no how by hand."
Rolf and his family start unloading their wagon, pulling off the ripped canvas cover and fashioning a rude travois for their supplies.
"The least we could do is to pull your wagon up to the ranger station. Perhaps you could sell it there?" Roach walks off to collect Bullwinkle.
Rolf smiles at Roach, his antennae twitching delightedly.
"That's a mighty generous offer Sai, thankee. If'n you could get us back to the Eyrie mayhap we can get some new pulling dogs or something the like."
"Happi teh hep yall. Wodn't be neyborly teh jest leave ya 'ere."
The group cobbles together an ersatz harness out of the scraps left by the murderous Drakk. The wagon is still in good shape, but the canvas top was ruined by the Drakk's claws, and there is slight damage here and there from the mutant bat's actions.
The group attaches Bullwinkle and Peg to the harness, as they are the most willing. The Morse grumbles telepathically a bit to be harnessed with the smelly porcine, but at least his thick coat spares him the quills of the porcuswine.
The group pushes the mauled Podog corpses off the cliff to rest with their murderer, Rolf's small children crying a bit. Then the group heads back to Whitcomb Eyrie.
The guards at the gate rush foreward and bring the Smiff family and their wagon inside as soon as they see them. The watch sarge thanks the group profusely for their heroics.
"I'll be sure the Tenant knows 'bout this. Y'all did a fine job savin' these're folks."
The band of adventurers fall out and dive into their bedrolls, conscious that dawn will come soon enough, and tomorrow will be a long day.
The group gets some light shut eye before the squall of several dozen roosters announce dawn's light. Another lovely summer day in Appalachee has dawned.
ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz
"You're a good fella, Bullwinkle." Roach affectionately scratches the big morse's head as he fits him into the makeshift harness. "I'll get you a treat after this. Hey kids, wannna ride back on the morse?"
Once the party gets back, instantly falls back asleep, barely pausing to take his boots off.
Eva passes the time watching the gracious thanks offered to the rest of the party for killing the Drakk, she passes her time, talking with the wagon's leader and helping him formulate the best course to Florida, Eva then slinks off and enters her nightly hibernation....She dreams of OMNUIS....
I think Chiro will spend most of the day sleeping on Creeper.
"I am nocturnal, mostly. Just wake me up if anything exciting happens. ZZZzzzz."
The Colonel prefers bugs.
The next morning dawns hot and sticky. Late Joon in the Berksh region is a killer. The group saddles up and readies itself for the trek to the next town of Florda.
The large form of the Tenant is at the gate as they prepare to move out.
"Just wanted to thank y'all personally for helping that family. You ever need something you come see me."
He shakes each one of your hands as you depart.
The day passes tolerably well. The heat is bad, but bearable. There is a lot of activity on the road as wagons rumble down the rutted track towards whatever destiny awaits them.
Towards late afternoon the riders reach the small town of Florda. The small town has a stone and concrete keep built along the Mohawk Trail, with dwellings built along the side of the sloping mountainsides. Terraced farmlands snake along the steep slopes as well. A large river twinkles in the valley below.
It is a peaceful-looking scene, but there is an undercurrent of tension. The riders pass several broken wagons, ragged refugees staring out at them from makeskift awnings with dead eyes. The gate to the fortification is guarded by a squad of unfriendly-looking men sit in front of it fingering assault weapons. They scowl as the riders approach, and one steps forward as the group gets near.
"State yer business strangers."
"Tourism."
<Without dismounting, Cocaman spits in the dust. The Colonel pecks at the loogy.>
The man scowls deeper, staring up at Coca atop his mutant Gallus.
"Funny man. You might want to watch yer tone. You got legitimate business here or are you just another bunch of road tramps?"
The group notices the rest of the guards readying themselves slightly. A squealing sound alerts them to a turret-mounted Gatling Gun at the top of the keep's gate manned by what looks to be a Dabber (humanoid Racoon). The Gatling and its operator are protected by a piece of steel welded to the swivel mount, leaving a small slit for the weapon's snout to poke through.
"We're Noratom militia. Just passin' through."