|
1) I am based in Southeast Asia (UTC +8) so my posting hours may be unusual (especially for those in North America). I usually update at least one or twice per day. Just to keep the game moving, please post at least once every day and at least once during the weekend. If you disappear for more than 24 hours, especially during combat, I will simply place your character on infinite delay just to keep things moving.
2) Please label all three of your actions. Even if you think what you are doing is obvious.
3) If I am unavailable for longer than 24 hours, I will let you know in the Discussion Tab. Out of respect for your fellow players and myself, I ask that you do the same. Real life happens, and real life will always take priority over the game, but out of fairness for your fellow players, please let us know if you will be unavailable for an extended period of time.
4) Questions, concerns? Feel free to share them in the Discussion tab.
5) Let's have some fun and tell a great story together! After all, that's what we are here for.
And here's Zindarel
|
|
Your adventure begins in a dingy bar called the Powder Horn, located in the heart of one of the entertainment districts in the gritty city of Alkenstar. Crowded even on a normal evening, the Powder Horn is bursting this particular night with patrons eager to watch the opening of a new play at the Aldivur Company Theater House. Dubbed The First Sin of Pharasma, the play has been heavily advertised for weeks, with fliers and posters plastered about the city. It is 2 hours before sunset on a Fireday evening. For many people, this is the end of their workweek and the numerous restaurants, saloons, and gambling halls of Alkenstar’s entertainment districts are doing brisk business. This evening brings a special event to Alkenstar, one which many people are eager to enjoy: a traveling theater troupe has rented out the renowned Aldivur Company Theater House to perform a never-before-seen play by famous playwright Melsa Aldthistle. The play, advertised as The First Sin of Pharasma, promises the audience a "once-in-a-lifetime experience" that is "sure to go down in history!"
Feel free to introduce your characters, including any backstory you might wish to add and maybe what you've ordered at the Powder Horn.
Amara Featherton enjoys when her travels take her through the gritty city of Alkenstar. It's always bustling with activity, some of which is legal, but that doesn't stop her from enjoying herself. On this particular evening, she's at her favorite watering hole, the Powder Horn, sitting at a table playing her favorite game, 5-card poker.
Always dressed to impressed, Amara is adorned in a brown satin top, tan trousers, and tall knee-high black boots that are impeccably shined. The gunslinger has two firearms holstered at her sides, along with healer's tools on a bandolier around her waist.
She glances over her shoulder, comforted that her business partner has returned with drinks, "Ah, excellent, Booker. That was fast. Thank you, my friend." She smiles and hands him several coppers from her winnings to pay for their drinks. Glancing at the four other card players she adds confidently, "Y'all better have no plans to cheat a lady this fine evening, or ..." She trails off as she indicates the imposing human behind her. "This ain't my first rodeo. Now who's dealing?" She smiles coyly and studies her cards.
ZakZak grew up in the Puddles hearing stories about the heroic Crookedtoes goblins. He spent his time creating guns and after crafting his mighty... Spoon Gun he decided to voyage to Alkenstar to prove himself to make a name for himself and meet other gunslingers. On the way he met Zindarel and she tolerates him as a friend. He spends time tinkering with and cleaning his gun. And by some weird coincidence silverware goes missing around him at times.
He has gone to the bar to get himself and Zindarel a drink.
Said imposing figure folds his arms and glares at anyone who might even *look* like they are thinking of walking behind the good doctor.
Booker snags one of the drinks for himself, leaving his rather large blunderbus strapped to his leg and well out of the way. From the way his biceps bulge as he smoothly moves his drink to his mouth it would appear he has little need of the weapon to inspire respect.
His own drink is ale. It's a good solid drink for a good solid man. A good man? Not necessarily. But good at *being* a man? Certainly.
"Why are we watching a play again?" he asks, considering that to perhaps not be an especially manly activity. Speaking of not-manly, or rather - thinking of not-manly, his eyes fix on the goblin working the room, and makes sure that the goblin has *seen* him seeing him.
After winning another hand, Amara Featherton notices Booker focused on a goblin suspiciously casing the room. "Good eye, my friend. Anything to be worried about?" With one eye on her money, she too watches the goblin with curiosity.
When Booker asks about the play, she smiles and says, "We're watching the play because it's the biggest thing to happen in this one-horse town in years!" She gives her companion a knowing look and adds quietly, "It can't possibly be worthy of all the hype. I sense trouble. And I think both of us could use a little excitement, don't you?" She grins and returns her attention to the game.
Brooker just gives Featherton a look.
"Your legs are about 12 inches shorter than mine. And your behind is about half the size of mine. Crowded theatre chairs could easily double as instruments of torture... and that is before the 'players' open their mouths to really lay on the treatment."
With a roll of his eyes he stretches out, emphasizing just how big he really is. "But it is more entertaining than watching that goblin pick yet another pocket. Guess this is a one horse and one goblin town."
After glancing around the room he adds "If you are that keen on excitement, why not ask the goblin to join us." he says with a grin. "Share the pain. Although he'd probably find the seats comfortable... and a wallet lost down the back of the one he picked."
It is also cultural and entertaining Zinderal replies
((And I just discovered he's a she - so I have to figure out how to edit the alias)) She waits for Zak to return with the drink while lounging near the card table. As for what she's carrying - it is either the oddest looking weapon you've ever seen, or maybe a musical instrument .... or maybe just a big assed key.
"I rarely find 'cultural' to be entertaining" laughs Brooker.
"Although sometimes watching peacocks preening can have its own amusement value I guess." He extends his hand to the elf.
"Brooker." he adds by way of introduction. Then with a tilt of his head he asks "I didn't think Giants used locks.."
Zinderal She takes the hand and gives it a firm handshake. Brooker also notes that she has a Tien accent.
Well it's actually called a Mithral Tree, but yes, I refer to it as my BAK - Big Assed Key, or the Key to Salvation.
|
|
The anticipatory murmurs of excitement echoing off the walls of the Powder Horn are suddenly silenced by a bloodcurdling scream. A man stumbles through the main door, clutching at a gushing neck wound. A gurgling gasp escapes his lips as he topples to the floor. Even as the man’s body collapses, a shambling horde of misshapen humanoids attempts to follow him through, accompanied by a fetid stench of blood and excrement. "What th—zombies?!" The cry comes from inside the bar as the patrons begin a panicked rush for the upper floor. As they rush for the possible safety of the upper story, the burly bartender leaps over the countertop, a heavy length of wood in her hands. "The doors!" she cries out. "Clobber those blighters and shut the door or we’re all doomed!"
------------------
COMBAT TRACKER
Round: 1
Tactical Map
------------------
BOLD may go
Doc Featherton AC 20, HP: 32/32
Black
Booker/Zindarel AC 20, HP: 38/38 (Booker); HP: 30/30 (Zindarel)
Blue
+++
ZakZak AC 20, HP: 36/36
Pink
White
Yellow
Red
When Doc Featherton hears the commotion, she instantly draws both weapons, a Dragon-Mouth pistol named Problem and a Bayonet named Solution. She turns to Booker and says, "How do you like the play so far, my friend? This is Act I." She grins and springs into action.
Before anyone can react, the Doc is already in range of the nearest zombie. She takes careful aim at the zombie in the doorway, the one surrounded by all his friends, and fires Problem into the center of the group. She then stabs at the zombie in front of her with Solution.
While stabbing with her bayonet, she instantly reloads her pistol. Wanting to give others a chance to act in the play, she strategically moves to the corner of the room.
((Booker can go first))
Brooker rolls his eyes. "I thought this sort of thing only happened in Taldor?
He quickly draws his scattergun and with a somewhat evil grin... pulls the trigger while aiming at the centre of the crowd
And then the cartridge explodes, sending ballbearings all around the zombie hoard.
He grins.
"My key, for opening up zombies." he explains to Zindarel.
Slowly he walks forward, putting his bulk between the hoard and the ladies.
Before closing, the large man offers a quick flick of the wrist, to reload his large gun.
Zinderal dives behind a table then props up her weapon on the table to use it as a stand then fires at Yellow.
1)Move, 2)Aim, 3)Fire
|
|
Doc shoots White before moving off. However Booker finishes the job by blasting White's head into a million pieces. Meanwhile, Zindarel takes aim at Yellow but misses off to the side.
------------------
COMBAT TRACKER
Round: 1
Tactical Map
------------------
BOLD may go
Doc Featherton AC 20; HP: 32/32
Black (-2)
Booker (-5) AC 20; HP: 38/38
Zindarel AC 20; HP: 30/30
Blue
+++
ZakZak AC 20; HP: 36/36
Pink (-2)
White HEADSHOT
Yellow (-4)
Red (-2)
Black shambles up to Booker and swings a meaty fist at him. The zombie connects.
Groaning, Blue shambles into the tavern going for Zindarel.
ZakZak takes a 5 foot step away from the zombies ◇ then fires at the red clothed one.
◆
He then reloads his gun with knives. ◆
"ZakZak slayer of zombies, I like the sound of that."
He then takes another shot at Red. ◆
◆
|
|
ZakZak sends a load of cutlery at Red and slices it up badly, sharp bits of metal also cut into Yellow and Pink and appear to do more damage than mere scratches. He reloads his gun with knives, firing a terrifying comment at black as he does so.
"Duuuhhhh?" Black groans, unaffected by the threat.
ZakZak sends another load of knives at Red and slices it to ribbons. Red collapses.
|
|
------------------
COMBAT TRACKER
Round: 2
Tactical Map
------------------
BOLD may go
Doc Featherton AC 20; HP: 32/32
Black (-2)
Booker AC 20; HP: 18/38; (Grabbed, Immobilized, Flat-footed)
Zindarel AC 20; HP: 30/30
Blue
+++
ZakZak AC 20; HP: 36/36
Pink (-14)
Yellow (-16)
Seeing the zombies crowd the doorway, Doc Featherton sees some silverware on a nearby table that ZakZak missed. She cries out, "Watch out! Behind you!" She tosses it across the room as a diversion.
Doc realizes Booker is in trouble. Not wanting to scattershot with him so close, she aims Problem, her dueling pistol, at the zombie grabbing him. "For all those times you had my back, allow me to return the favor, my friend." She fires.
She then flicks her wrist to reload her pistol.
"Get back yer creep, I ain't not lady for you to be pawin at!" glares Brooker.
He slams the stock of his gun into jaw of the zombie holding him.
He then grunts and gives it another nudge with the butt of his gun.
"Use your Solution Doc. Yer can pull the buckshot outa ma hide lata."
Zindarel scrambles around the table, reloads, while still behind the table, then attempts to Head Shot the Rot-ting corpse (Blue)
|
|
Doc fires Problem at Yellow and watches with satisfaction as its head blows up. Booker tries to shove Pink away to no avail. His strike with the butt of his gun, however, causes Pink's head to burst like an overripe melon. Booker retreats to safety while Zindarel eliminates Blue with a well placed headshot from behind a table.
Black totters up to Zindarel and swings a meaty fist at her.
------------------
COMBAT TRACKER
Round: 2
Tactical Map
------------------
BOLD may go
Doc Featherton AC 20; HP: 32/32 (Hidden)
Black (-2)
Booker AC 20; HP: 18/38;
Zindarel AC 20; HP: 30/30
Blue HEADSHOT
+++
ZakZak AC 20; HP: 36/36
Pink HEADSHOT
Yellow HEADSHOT
"Hey Zindarel, I guess Zombies don't scare so easily."
ZakZak reloads his spoon gun with knives ◆ then fires at the remaining zombie. ◆
"Oops, Sorry about that."
He then reloads the gun. ◆
|
|
ZakZak unloads another volley of cutlery at Black, which nicks Zindarel slightly. Black is on its last legs but is still up.
Black swings a meaty fist at Zindarel.
Black latches on to Zindarel.
While everyone is occupied with combat, the barkeep takes the opportunity to slam the door and drop the locking bar across it, effectively locking you all in.
------------------
COMBAT TRACKER
Round: 3
Tactical Map
------------------
BOLD may go
Doc Featherton AC 20; HP: 32/32 (Hidden)
Black (-15)
Booker AC 20; HP: 18/38;
Zindarel AC 20; HP: 23/30; Grabbed, Flat-footed, Immobilized
ZakZak AC 20; HP: 36/36
Amara Featherton is relieved that Booker seems to be out of harm's way. With one remaining zombie across the room, Doc strides up to take a flanking position with Zindarel. She reassures the elf, "Help is on the way. Act III of Booker's favorite play is at the climactic conclusion. Oh, isn't it exciting?" She grins and fires her dueling pistol, Problem. Then she follows it up by bashing with Solution's reinforced stock into the zombie's gut.
As she completes the melee strike, she reloads her pistol.
Zinderal winces at the scratch and sighs. Seems she's used to being collateral damage.
Once Doc Featherton finishes off the last zombie she bows. I thank you. I was getting concerned. My BAK is more of a sniper weapon than a close order one.
... and she casually runs it through just to be sure.
ZakZak walks over and nudges one of the zombies.
"That was fun. Gross but fun."
He then glances at the bar across the door.
"Are we expecting more of them?"
|
|
Zindarel runs Black through with satisfaction.
COMBAT OVER
Doc Featherton AC 20; HP: 32/32
Booker AC 20; HP: 18/38;
Zindarel AC 20; HP: 23/30
ZakZak AC 20; HP: 36/36
The bartender quickly addresses you. ""Name’s Martelle. We oughta follow the rest up to the second floor and get a view of the street, see what in the Hell is going on out there."
A wide, open area provides additional seating for patrons of the bar. A waist-high railing surrounds a ten-foot-by-ten-foot opening to the bar below, and each of the room’s walls sport a pair of large windows overlooking the street and alleys below.
The second floor of the Powder Horn is packed with worried patrons, most of whom are crowded around the northern windows overlooking the street. From here, it’s clear that zombies are shambling out of the Aldivur Company Theater House before spreading to the rest of the city. Zombies shamble about the town square and main road below. Across the street is a small market catering to the patrons of the district. Just west of the market is the home of the man who runs the playhouse, which also serves as a storage facility for the theater, and west of that lies the theater itself. On this side of the street, a 20-foot wide alley separates the Powder Horn from an adjacent two-story building.
"So here’s the deal," she begins. "You all clearly have more fight and experience in you than most of the folks out this way, you’re a bit more smartly armed, and who knows what to expect of the guard. We could wait things out, see what happens, but it’s not exactly like the number of zombies out there is shrinking. If we don’t put a stop to this now, the whole city could be overrun. So here’s what I’m proposing—you lot head to the theater house and see if you can’t figure out where all these zombies are coming from. Put a stop to them if you can or come back and let us know if you can’t. You put an end to this mess and you’ve got free drinks for life here at the Powder Horn. I’m pretty sure any of the rest of us that survive can probably scrape together a purse for you if the city doesn’t pay out a reward. Deal?"
It's sort of tempting to stay here and set up a sniper's nest Zinderel comments. I could clear the streets and join you later. What do the rest of you think?
"Even your sharp eyes can't see through walls and the zombies seem to be coming from inside the building. Hey Martelle got any spare silverware?"
ZakZak cleans his gun while the rest heal up.
Window Zinderel said. But yes, coming from inside the theatre. I agree ZakZak. That is rather concerning.
Zinderel will also get to work on preparing her weapon for more action.
When Zindarel takes the last one down, the Doc holsters her pistols and introduces herself to the other gunslingers. She nods to the elf, "Well done, I'm Amara Featherton." She pats the healers tools on her bandolier, and adds, "You can call me Doc. I've been known to stitch up wounds from time to time, sometimes too hastily, but I usually get the job done." She glances at Booker, "Am I right? Oh...this is Booker. We work together." She motions the big guy over.
When ZakZak approaches, she says, "I'm Doc. You're pretty good with that gun. Do you have enough flatware?" She grins as she sees the utensils she threw across the room. She helps the goblin collect them.
Upstairs, while Martelle is briefing the group on the situation, Doc unfolds her healers tools, and hastily patches up Booker. "Oh stop squirming." Her scalpel slips a bit, but she manages.
She looks to the others. "Zindarel, you're next. If you dare." She pauses and adds, "To be honest, I need a sharper set of tools. But I do okay." With Zindarel's permission, Doc sets to work.
When she's packing up her tools, Amara chimes in, "You had me at free drinks. I'm in." She looks to the streets below to see if there's any pattern to where the zombies are coming from, or if there are occasional periods when the streets are clear.
Zinderal has no problem with Doc healing her.
Brooker flexes his arms and looks at his clothes.
"Yer sticking in me skin is good, but that was me favorite shirt. How am I going show meself in respectable company?"
He looks around the crowded balcony before adding quietly to Doc "If I ever find meself in such company that is."
Turning to Martelle he offers a nod of his head. "Free drinks for life. Sounds good. Of course, life might not be very long out there. Dem walkin dead pack a punch and a half."
Rolling his broad shoulders to test Doc's stitching he shrugs. "Better than seeing the play anyway. Guess I should be thankful for that. "
Then he looks out the window. Do the zombies appear to be old dead, or perhaps more recently (i.e. dressed in going to the theatre finery) dead.
Zindarel is keen to help. Can't really have zombies wandering around the place - that's not natural.
ZakZak came here to make a name for himself. In his mind fighting his way to the source of a zombie horde is a given, If prompted for an answer he will say
"Of course I'll help. Think they will make a new play about today?"
Once Doc gets her two companions healed (or somewhat healed in Booker's case -- "I'll need to re-dress those bandages in an hour, my friend. And I'm not sure we have that long"), she studies the street below.
She smiles to Martelle and asks some questions, "How long has this been going on?" And, "Have you noticed a pattern as to when they attack or are the streets always dangerous?" And finally, "Do you have a suggestion as to where we should investigate first?" She awaits any answers.
Booker rolls his eyes. "It's always the same.. Don't worry. I have Dr Booker's patent medicine on me somewhere.."
He pats himself around and comes up with a hip flask, with a grin he opens the bottle and downs it in a single swallow.
"Agggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.,.. It burns..."
Wiping his mouth the big man gestures out the window. "Dem folk went in alive and are coming out... dead. That's no graveyard being dug up, that's mass-production."
He nudges Doc. "Get it, mass-Production... kind of like a theatre-production, but... oh never mind."