Old Orleans, New Trouble: A Fallout Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master SinBlade06

soh: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17 to hide a second mf cell

also if necessary I plan on making use of my secret stash deed. Also would I have kept two shells in the chamber of my ballistic fist?

Annabell will scoff at Marcel with the displeasure for the fact that he insulted her whole culture. She will pet Tandan as he growls angerly. She will glady place her things in the bag used to the customs.

Rodrick's Percep: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Somehow, Rodrick doesn't notice the metal pole clenched between Marcel's buttocks.

"Ok, everyone load up. We leave in 5 minutes."

If you have any final preparations to make before leaving for the encampment, now's the time. Edward, since you're not wearing your power armor, you're wearing your Merc Grunt outfit instead.

"So, what's going to happen to our equipment? Do you plan to bring it over for us? Or simply leave it put here?"

"I'll be bringing your gear to you after you've reached the encampment. Don't worry, you'll get it all back."

Rodrick gets in his place at the driver's seat of the air boat. "Load up. Once your blinds are in place, we'll be off."

Edward places the bag over his head, calmly awaiting the inevitable betrayal.

Sense motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20

"Betray us and I'll drown you with my bare hands."

Rodrick chambers a round into his rifle. "That's it, you're not going." Rodrick makes a quick whistle and the other hooded figure stands up. Way up. His hood falls back to show a ghoul that's more muscle than person. He tilts his head to the side, a loud crack coming from his neck. As he stands, he pulls from inside his cloak a Chinese Assault Rifle and levels it at his hip, aiming towards Marcel.

"Try to follow us and my friend will fill you with more holes than a pre-war movie's plot. Everyone else, in the boat."

Now you dun pissed them off! Good luck trying to talk out of this.

"heh," Scab chuckles nervously. I'm sure he will figure out a way to catch up. He's a crafty one. he thinks to himself.

Marcel meets the Rodrick's gaze evenly. "Get your panties unbunched and your head back in perspective. You're blindfolding us and taking our weapons; out in the wastes, I'd probably run interstate if you proposed that and shoot you if you insisted. Lilith says you can be trusted, so I want to come help her; if you can't handle a little threat from an unarmed man then you tribals are really as scared and close-minded as I've heard. So, which is it- you need my help, are you precious enough that you need me to be f+*@in' polite about it, or do you just need the job done?"

In case this eloquence doesn't work, I've got another method to follow the boat.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9 diplomacy.

"Now, now, my good tribal friend. Marcel is simply acting out as is his nature. How likely would you be to sit quietly by and allow an unknown party, even one vouched for by a comrade-in-arms, to disarm, blindfold, and place on a small watercraft? Place yourself in our position, and consider that we are here to perform a task as requested by several of the swamp-dwelling-people."

Edward doesn't even move his head, talking through the burlap bag as if it weren't there.

Argh....stupid dice hate Edward so much!

"If need be I'll stay with Marcel. No need to be completely separated."

Marcel shakes his head. "Lilith'll need ya more than me. I'll be fine."

Lilith died a while ago...it annabell.

Heh my mistake, Annabell.

Edward doesn't even move his head, talking through the burlap bag as if it weren't there.

hahah it's not much worse than his usual headdress!

Scab whistles a jaunty rendition of Row, Row, Row your Boat.

[FAILED]"Shut up, tinny." The dice really hate you, don't they?

As Scab starts to whistle, Rodrick contemplates what Marcel said earlier. Technically, that was a diplomacy. Now, that was a great speech. I'll be rolling for you, and I'm giving you a +5 to this one roll.

Marcel's Shotgun Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (3) + 5 - 1 = 7

[FAILED]"As a matter of fact, yes, you do have to be polite, because round here, a man doing you a service deserves a little respect, and so far, you ain't showin' me jack sh*t. You are staying behind, and that's final." Rodrick starts up the airboat's engine, a loud roar from the old engine giving off a puff of smoke, and the team--minus Marcel--are off into the swamps of Louisiana.

Marcel's "friend" gives him a once over, chuckling to himself. Marcel is left alone at the airboat shack, everyone else is on their way to the encampment of the Swamp Druids.

How fast is the boat going?

Roughly 5 mph to start, but it'll be picking up speed after it gets out of sight.

Okay; let me know if this works.

Once the boat is a little bit away, Marcel reaches into his pockets and pulls two vials and an empty container. Mixing the two vials carefully, he slams the container into the shunt in his arm and grimaces slightly as the concoction burns through him; after a moment, gills sprout from his neck, and his fingers grow webbed. He dives into the water and surges after the boat, hoping to grab onto a trailing rope or anything else dangling so he can hitch a ride.

Take a swig of Beastmorph Mutagen, giving me 30ft swim speed. Use Stealth etc to stay hidden for the long, horrible journey.

think of the radiation man...that be like 1 rad a second or somethin.

"What the heck is happening to y--HEY!!!"

The big guy open fires as Marcel dives into the murky water. -2 to hit due to bad conditions.

Biggie's To Hit: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

The shots break the surface of the water, but no blood. Give me a stealth to stay hidden.

To those in the boat, they just heard gunfire from the shore, a big splash, and no response from Marcel.

Hoping he'd turned away from me and i'd waited a little before I tried this so he wouldn't see me, but whatevs.

Stealth: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15
Maybe bonuses for the dark water?

Sure, +2 for murky water.

Rodrick's Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Rodrick has no idea he has a tail. "Told him to stay put. Dieux ont pitié de son âme." (French: Gods have mercy on his soul.)

Thankfully, a bit of rope was trailing behind, so a quick grab and a good grip let Marcel hang on the whole way. For a total of 5 minutes.

As in it's a 5-minute ride or its 5 minutes until I die from radiation/drown?

Five minute ride.

Nice. Can't wait until I figure out what I'm going to do when we arrive.

Marcel grits his teeth and tries not to pass out from the radiation, the pollution or the streaming water. F+@#ing tribals.

perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 to see if Scab can see what was being shot at, and the result such as a body floating to the surface.

Scab's bag on his head keeps him from seeing, but the sounds of gunfire, a loud splash, and Rodrick's comment, suggest that Marcel was a target and Rodrick is either guessing or knows Marcel's fate.

So, everyone arrives?

dang, i forgot about the bag.

"You better hope our companion wasn't just killed, swamp lady."

Rodrick chuckles at Scab's comment.

After about 5 minutes, the boat slows down and the engine is cut. Marcel stays below the water's surface, thankful that the marsh water here isn't radioactive. Rodrick and Annabell help lead everyone with a bag on their head onto shore and have them removed.

You've reached what looks like an old bayou town, houses on stilts with docks to every one of them, only there are more than just houses on the water. There are houses and small buildings in the trees as well, kept aloft by powerful steel cables and strong tree branches.

People are everywhere, growing plants, fishing off the shoreline, building more houses, and all of them wearing simple clothing with next to nothing made from pre-war materials. Most of the people's attention is on the newcomers that just came to shore.

Rodrick whispers into Edward's ear. "If you value your life, don't mention you're BoS, or my welcome will look Marde Gra." Rodrick steps forward and speaks in a loud voice. "These outsiders have come to assist Father Ahab. They will be leaving as soon as they are finished." Rodrick faces the group. "Come with me, we're taking you to Father Ahab." Rodrick starts off down a dirt street through the middle of town.

Marcel drags himself from the water and collapses onto the beach, letting the water seep out and dry in the afternoon sun. When he's recovered a bit of his strength, he buries his rebar club in the ground with just the tip poking out near a large rock. That done, he hesitates, looking at his pockets, his webbed hands and the horizon.

Have I got time... Doesn't matter, I need it.

Slipping into the water again, Marcel powers through the marsh looking for somewhere he can hide out for an hour; an old shack, a deserted inlet, a big tree, anything.

Once found, he sets himself up and starts briskly mixing vials.

Spend an hour waiting for Mutagen to wear off and brewing another one.

"Understood. Although I do not comprehend the hostility, I will comply with your instructions."

Marcel is able to find for himself a small hideaway a good ways away from the encampment, but close enough for him to be able to reach is allies when they need him. The mutagen he mixes seems a little different due to unsafe mixing conditions. (Due to imperfect conditions, your next mutagen will only last half as long as normal)

Rodrick leads you through the village, keeping a close eye on you as he walks. Most of the villagers stop what they're doing, farming, playing with kids, talking, and start watching the outsiders walk their humble home.

Rodrick leads the group to what appears to be the smallest hut in the village just beside an old plantation house, once glorious as the dawn, now cracked, collapsing, and covered in vines and plants. Rodrick motions for you to wait as he enters the hut, then comes back out followed by a hunched figure using a long, twisted branch as a walking stick.

The figure wears a robe like Rodrick's, but his is so dirty it has lichen growing on it, along with a few mushrooms and flowers. When the figure lowers the hood, you see that it is a ghoul, but this ghoul is so old that the phrase "bare bones" is a compliment. The skin on his face and hands are just barely clinging on, destroyed by radiation and overexposure to harsh conditions of the Marshes. When he speaks, his voice is so raspy and broken you'd think his throat was made of tree bark.

"Friends, thank you for visiting our humble grounds and assisting us with our dire situation. I am Father Ahab, current leader of the Druids." When he sees Annabell, he smiles in the way a grandfather sees his grandchildren. "Sister Annabell. It is good to see you again. I hope your Walkabout these past months have taught you about yourself."

He turns to the plantation house, using his stick to emphasize his gestures. "This house was once used as a Master's Quarters during a time long before the Great War, holding a Master above the people who worked for and under him in his house and his fields. I knew it well, for it was my history. A cave system was discovered underneath the house, which was used by the slaves who worked the fields to elude the grasp of their masters.

"When the time of slave work was ended and a time of fear grasped the nation, the caves themselves were turned into a shelter. Ironic, that shelter is now a source of power and majesty few have seen and lived in this realm to tell about.

"Recently, there was a disturbance about the Sacred Caves, and we require the aid of the outside world to help us rid the evil that dwells within."

Father Ahab uses his stick to wave over a couple of bystanders. "Our new friends will need a place to stay while their equipment is retrieved. Let Isabella know to get three rooms ready. I recommend you rest and begin your journey into the unknown tomorrow."

Currently, you will have free room and board along with food for the night, while Marcel is stuck in the marshes waiting to be human again. Questions? Now's the time.

"Evil, heh. What sort?"

"What kind of disturbance? Were people injured or property damaged? "

His drug mixed, Marcel follows the path of the group and enters into town. He holds his hands by his side, open. When people ask who he is or what the hell he's doing here, he responds with "I came to help. My friends just arrived; could you take me to them?"

As Marcel is traveling back to the encampment, he learns first hand why the Marshes are dangerous without a guide.

Marcel's Survival to keep from getting lost: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
DC for that was a 21. Good roll.

Marcel is able to get back to the encampment after trudging through the swamp, (Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 15) and is promptly pointed in the right direction towards town. His clothes are now covered in mud, leaves, and twigs of all manner, making him look just like one of the druids.

------

Father Ahab speaks to Scab and Edward. "We aren't sure what kind of evil has take root in the Sacred Caves. We have sent several members to try and clear it out, but none of them have returned. On occasion we hear the sound of knives sharpening, but whatever resides there is not using metal from natural means...."

"What do you mean by that? Unnatural metal?"

"No-one has returned? That sounds ominous. How much of an area do the Sacred Caves cover? Multiple levels and hundreds of square meters, or much smaller? What kind of thing lives there, or did before you had to vacate the area?"

"I was standing at the entrance to the Sacred Caves when the first team went down. There were gouges cut into the walls two inches deep. Those walls were able to contain the power of the Marshes before they became the Marshes. Whatever was used to cut was not of this world..." Knowledge Wastes(planes) or Nature to figure out what may or may not have caused those cuts.

"The Caves cover a total of 14,000 square feet with most of it replaced with Vault-Tec equipment. There are holes into the other parts of the caves, but we haven't explored those yet. As for what lived in the caves before we got there, we found mole rats and radroaches aplenty, easily cleared out and left alone. Then this monstrosity took hold, and you know the story from there."

wastes: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Marcel scrapes away the dirt as best he can and makes his way towards town. He repeats his same line.

Scab has no idea what kind of creature could do such a thing.

Once Marcel gets back with the group, Rodrick immediately recognizes him under the mud and leaves.

"Trespasser!!" Rodrick quickly draws his rifle, chambers a round with the flick of his wrist, and aims to put Marcel's lights out.

Technically, he's right. You did enter the are using means not intended, and that's trespassing. You've got very little time to present a case before Marshland Justice is served. Everyone else could try and help as well if you wanted.

The idea was that now that we're back in the compound, he's not in charge any more. I get to make my case to someone else. And 'hey if I wanted to destroy you why the hell would I be walking straight at you?' sounds like a pretty decent argument, especially against someone hopefully more pacifistic than Rodrick.

While he may not have been in charge in the encampment, he still has a say in things. And you are trespassing, so he's not wrong.

I do get that, but I'm hoping that as he's not in charge and as I've come openly and without weapons that I won't get shot immediately.

You do have the option to say something before the trigger is pulled. Just watch your tongue and it won't get cut out.