Feel free to dot in here.
It's hard to miss the veritable heap of sharp, rusted scrap metal resting on the bar. It extends from what could only be a... gun? A sharp, pointy stick? Certainly a weapon of some sort, its stock secured in wrappings upon wrappings of leather and tape from one too many repair jobs.
"I made it from nothing but metal I found meself!" A goblin exclaims to the busy bar, patting his weapon like a puppy. "I call it the flingflenser," he cackles, his bare foot bouncing in excitement. "If you scour backalleys, that's always the way to find best stuffs. But I knew to reach true glory, I had to find more about these fabled gunslingers, it was the only way and make even BETTER stuffs. Flingflenser 2.0, coming soon! What you think, Zindarel?" Zakzak looks over at the elf seated next to him.
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Sitting near the Goblin is a tall Elven woman, carrying a long firearm with a wide stock. The weapon is taller than her Goblin compatriot, and has metal bands all along its length.
I think you have an amazing talent for creating your weapons, Zakzak. The things you can make from almost nothing always suprise me.
The group of the four gunslingers relax at the Powder Horn, the neighborhood bar. It's a calm night as most patrons are out enjoying the play The First Sin of Pharasma. The bartender brings beverages out to the four of you sitting at a table. "Quiet night here, eh? Not going to see the play? I may watch it later this week, perhaps.". The few other patrons in the bar are chatty and lively. A gnome sits on the piano, playing a lovely and upbeat tune. But it's much quiet than normal - it's usually so packed in here you can't move!
The anticipatory murmurs of excitement echoing off the walls of the Powder Horn are suddenly silenced by a blood-curdling 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 attempt 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!"
Martelle, the female half-elf bartender, stands near the bar in the back, but holds a heavy locking bar/piece of wood and waits for an opportunity to drop it in place, blocking off the door.
Six zombies stand in place throughout the room, slowly lumbering towards the gunslingers, looking for a tasty morsel to eat!
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[u]Round 1[/u]
Zakzak
Doc
Zindarel
Booker
Zombies!
As chaos erupts in the bar, the young woman who'd been sitting at the table with the others lets out an audible groan as she reflexively draws a pistol with one hand and a bayonet (also attached to a pistol) with her other hand.
"Aw hell Booker, I told you my feet were a-tinglin' this morning! We should've left town while we had the chance!"
Despite her irritation at being put into such a predicament, Amara 'Doc' Featherton has clearly dealt with her share of trouble in the past, as she's on her feet in a flash and takes aim at Purple with her dragon-mouth pistol, which belches a spray of pellets as she pulls the trigger.
And though both her hands are occupied, Doc somehow finagles another round into the pistol without breaking a sweat or dropping anything.
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Zakzak hops onto his bare foot just as soon as the screaming begins, nabbing his weapon off the top of the bar.
"Wheeee! An opportunity to show off our skillz, and so quickly, Zindarel!" Zakzak joins Zindarel and aims his flingflenser spoongun for the orange-eyed zombie, throwing Doc an impressed grin. "You shoot, I shoot, .. we all shoot!"
His foot slips on some spilled beer at the last moment, and the gun punches a neat set of spoon-sized holes in the ceiling, Zakzak's bulbous eyes wide with glee. "See that, brainless longshanks? This what's gonna happen to you when Zakzak and Friends are through!"
Zindarel quickly pulls out her gun and shoots at the zombie that's gotten the furthest into the room. With one quick shot, the zombie goes down!
Neither Doc nor Zakzak seem to be able to shoot properly! The zombies definitely surprised them. Must be nerves or something. Doc manages to shoot at the nearby table, missing the zombie completely. Zakzak, in his haste, hits the ceiling instead!
Zakzak yells at the incoming zombies, but they don't seem to understand what's happening.
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[u]Round 1[/u]
Zakzak
Doc
Zindarel
Booker
Zombies!
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”Now don’t start blaming me for this, Doc!” Booker replied. He launched himself to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process, and unslung the large gun from his shoulder. Just once, just once he wanted to have a nice quiet day where nothing went wrong and he got to enjoy a good mug.
“Let’s put ‘em down quick, fellas,” he said before firing at the undead thing in the center.
Thanks to Booker's quick thinking, another zombie is injured! But that doesn't stop the zombies from coming in further.
The bluish zombie slowly lumbers up to the bartender, but still isn't fully there. The other zombies come up to the gunslingers one by one. Each reaches out and tries to grab them! One goes for Doc, two go for Zakzak, and one goes for Booker.
Thankfully, the zombies are slow and each of the gunslingers manage to dodge out of the way of the attacks. Can they down the zombies before the zombies turn them into more undead? Only time will tell!
As the fight happens, the bartender, Martelle, runs up towards the door with a bar in hand. She closes the door quickly and bars the door before any more zombies can get in!
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[u]Round 2[/u]
Zakzak
Doc
Zindarel
Booker
Zombies! (blue -1, green -1, purple -1, red -1, white -8)
Zakzak finds himself surrounded by zombies, but that doesn't deter him. "Normally zombies bite living things, but what happens if living things... bite zombie?" He wonders for a moment. "Nah, could be gross."
Shrugging, Zakzak raises his weapon at point-blank range in the face of white, hoping it's too slow to make any opportune attacks.
Afterwards, he flips another sets of spoons from his pocket up to his gun. "Learned this reload technique from the self-proclaimed Master of Spoons."
Watching the zombie's head explode, Zakzak takes a little more time to reload his gun this time.
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Zindarel looks the at zombies approaching and says: Careful ZakZak, your genius won't make much of an impression on these creatures of they eat you. as she reloads, fires and reloads again.
◆ Zindarel Reloads her weapon and
◆ takes a shot at Green
(magical, parry, fatal d10, concussive, elf, range increment 150', reload 1)
◆ and reloads for next round
Zakzak thinks for a moment, perhaps wanting to bite these zombies back. But he thinks again. The goblin turns his attention to the white zombie. His first shot blows off it's arm. But the zombie still stands and hungrily looks at him. Another attack! This time, Zakzak blows the zombie's head off!
Zindrael takes aim at the green zombie, hoping to knock it down before it comes to attack her. Her attack manages to place a good sized hole in it's side, but it barely even notices.
Then Booker moves around to get into a better position. Using the butt of his weapon, he manages to push the zombie back five feet. The vanguard attempts to line up his weapon to shoot, but the zombie lurches at the last second, making Booker miss his attack.
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[u]Round 2[/u]
Zakzak
Doc
Zindarel
Booker
Zombies! (blue -1, green -6, purple -1, red -1)
"Nobody's eating anything except lead and steel!" Doc huffs as she swings her arm around to fire another round from her dragon mouth pistol at Blue. Then, in one fluid motion, she brings her other hand around to slash at Red as she reloads her pistol.
"Stay down and quit makin' more work for me!"
She then falls back a few paces.
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Doc levels her gun at the blue zombie. Her pistol recoils slightly as she watches the zombie nearly get obliterated. But it's not quite enough. The zombie still lurches forward towards Booker.
She also swings around to pierce the red zombie. Solid hit! It would hurt... if the zombies could feel it. But leaves a giant hole in the middle of the zombie's chest.
The zombies now slowly lumber forward, looking for their next meal.
The zombie with a cute blue hat stumbles towards Booker, reaching out to grab at him. The shot from Doc really messed up this zombie so it's attacks are futile. Similarly, the zombie in a green dress uselessly claws at Booker's armor, not managing to scratch the man at all.
The zombie in a purple button up shirt sees the goblin as it's next lunch meal. But Zakzak easily dodges the zombie's claws, using the chair as a way to keep it afar.
Then the zombie with a red scarf lunges after Doc - it's too dumb to see Zakzak right there. Instead, it steps up and attacks the creature in between it and Doc - Zindarel. But it too can't seem to get it's lunch!
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[u]Round 3[/u]
Zakzak
Doc
Zindarel
Booker
Zombies! (blue -11, green -7, purple -1, red -5)
"Hey hey, paws off my pal!"
With the zombies now closing in Doc knows that using her scatter ammo ain't the best idea - not unless she wants to patch up the holes it'll leave in Booker and the others. She flips the bayonet around to grip the dueling pistol end and likewise does the same with her dragon mouth pistol, clutching the reinforced stock like a club.
Then, she takes aim and fires a single shot at Green.
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"You're right Zindarel, I wouldn't want our adventurings to suddenly end because of few mindless zombies." Zakzak takes the hint, and adds some distance between himself and the zombies, hopping on a bar stool next to Doc.
He fires another set of spoons at red, or purple if red is down!
Afterwards, he grabs some dirty spoons off the bar and reloads his gun.
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Zindarel looks around and notes her companions have moved back: How did I end up on the Front line? as she shoots, moves and reloads.
◆ Zindarel takes a shot. Priority of targets: Red; If Red is down, Purple; if both those are down, Green
(magical, parry, fatal d10, concussive, elf, range increment 150', reload 1)
◆ moves back
◆ and reloads
And with that all the zombies crash to the floor in a flurry of gun shots!
With Martelle closing and locking the door, all seems momentarily calm. The sounds of fighting from the street can be heard through the thick wooden walls - gun shots, shouting and screaming. The door rattles for a few moments as the sounds of groans and scratching fingers can be heard testing the building's defenses.
The bartender nods to the group. "Thank you for that. My name is 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."
She leads the group upstairs. 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 alley below.
And this floor is packed with worried patrons, most of them crowding near the northern windows overlooking the street. The group of you approach and look out as well. From here, it's clear that zombies are shambling out of the Aldivur Company Theater House before spreading to the rest of the city, shambling 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. 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.
Zakzak packs up all the spoons he can get before heading upstairs.
"Zombies, as far as Zakzak can see!" He looks outside in bewilderment, not fear. The stories of the glorious Crookedtoes he heard in his past drove his bravery, as always. "What is going on out there?"
"Looks like tonight's performance must've been dead boring," Doc quips as she peers out the window. "What, too soon? Well, times like these you have to laugh or cry - and it's hard to get anything done while you're cryin'."
She glances around at the other huddled patrons. "So...this sorta thing normally happen around here?"
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Zindarel eases up to the Bartender and asks,
Martelle, you told us earlier that the play tonight was The First Sin of Pharasma. Can you tell us anything else about it, since all these Undead are coming from the Theater.
She also takes the opportunity to attach her bayonet to her rifle, since it seems like she will need it tonight.
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Booker shot a glance to Doc as if to say “Yeah, maybe too soon” but shrugged and simply headed up the stairs all while fighting back a grin. He reloaded the scattergun as he took the last step to the second floor.
The large man leaned over the goblin to peer out the window at the chaos below and grunted. The nice, quiet evening with a drink really was over already. Booker paced back to the stairs and called to Martelle, “How many windows would you say you got in this place?”
"All I know about the play is that it's by the famous playwright Melse Aldthisle. I was planning on going to see it tomorrow, but I guess not. It was promoted as a 'once-in-a-lifetime experience' that is 'sure to go down in history.' I see why now."
The group looks outside. So many zombies around! There are a few living people out there - some running for their lives, others trying to defend themselves from the incoming swarm.
Martelle brings them aside. "So here's the deal," she begins. "You all clearly have more fight and experience in you than most of these 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.". She shudders at the thought. "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?"
"Way I see it, you've got two path's forward. The first is to make a break for the house across the square. It's own by Aldivur, the theater's operator, and is also used to store costumes and props for the theater. You should be able to lock it up from the inside, keep the zombies out while you look for anything useful."
Martelle stops and looks outside again. "The other is maybe a bit trickier, but also safer. ". She gestures towards the window along the west wall. "That clothesline is bolt in pretty good, and the Thuss's are good folk. If you can shimmy across there without falling into the alley, they might be able to help you out some. Rickard is a gunsmith and is likely to have some extra ammo on hand, maybe even some weapons. If you fall off the line, you can still make a break from Aldivur's house, and if you get in there, well, they're closer to the theater than we are, so maybe they'll have an idea on what your best next move is. Whaddya think?"
Zakzak eagerly accepts the request, his head bobbling in excitement. "We takes down six zombies, what's another hundred more? I much prefer the clothesline shimmy. Worth the risk if it means a bit of extra ammo, especially for guns not like Zakzak's, like... yours!" The goblin turns and points both hands out at Doc and Bookers' guns. "Unless these fit?" He offers up a set of his shiniest cutlery.
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Zakzak, I don't think the flatware will fit their guns any better than it does mine.
Zindarel looks at the Bartender, then the clothesline; Ma'am, you didn't mention that if we don't do something, that place may turn out undead enough to overrun even us. Given the state of my ammunition supply, I think the clothesline is the best way to go. I ain't got enough bullets to shoot all them zombies right now.
"Hah! No, don't believe they will, Spoonman," Doc chuckles as Zakzak offers to share his 'ammo' with her and the others. "But I gotta say, must be handy to be able to use whatever you got lying around as ammo. Might have to look into something like that for myself, assuming we don't end up like those folks out there," she jerks her thumb towards the street.
As she considers the available options for getting into - or at least closer - to the theater, she frowns. "Talk about a rock and a hard place. Wouldn't be my first time doing a little shimmy along a line but climbing over fences and up canyons with a rope is just a little different than hand-over-hand over a crowd of hungry corpses!"
"Then again, making a break for it might not be any better. If anyone's alive in there they probably got it all boarded up, could take time to bust in or for them to let us in, all while those things are coming for us," she continues, clearly thinking out loud. "Much as I hate to say it Booker, I think the clothesline is the better pick of the two, especially if it means more guns and ammo. What if a couple of us go over first and then anchor the thing real good before you come across?"
The second floor of the Powder Horn is connected to the building to the west - a small gunsmithy with an upstairs apartment - by a permanent clothesline fixture. A thick length of hemp rope stretches 20 feet above the alley below in a loop between iron pulleys secured to the buildings' outer walls with thick metal bolts. The window of the opposite building (Rickard's Gunnery & Sales) is unshattered and surrounded by a small garden box that looks sturdy enough to support a grown human.
Zakzak steps out the window of the Powder Horn, looking down at the zombies with a glint of excitement in his eye. "Wee! Right behind you, Zindarel!"
He takes the clothesline in his pudgy hands, hoists himself up and and starts to shimmy across.
Both Zindarel and Zakzak attempt to cross the clothesline. But maybe it's nerves of falling. Neither manage to make it a foot before deciding to stop. ()
"Maybe not as easy as Zakzak thought, but yes Zindarel, we can definitely do it!" Zakzak tries to balance himself again, carefully grabbing the clothesline in between his toes.
Doc watches and waits as Zindarel and Zakzak attempt to make the crossing first.
"I gotcha covered," she reassures the pair, twirling her dueling pistol. "And I also got a rope in case one of you fall. Oh hey, maybe we should've tied it to you first before you got out there on the wire..."
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Booker sighed and slung the scattergun back over one shoulder. “If you want, I’ve got one that I can tie to you, Doc. No offense, but, uh, I’ve never taken you for the most athletic type.”
The large man shook his head slowly as he watched the others try to dance across the rope above a crowd of undead. Seemed to him that the better idea would be to take your time and use your hands to hang. Then again, neither had fallen so what did he know?
“Once they’re across, you go next, Doc. We’ll get you tied up just in case and then I’ll bring up the rear.”
Both Zindarel and Zakzak make it across the clothesline! It's almost as if the elf and goblin were made for this. Fortunately, no zombie seems to be beneath them at the moment. So if they do fall, they'll have some time to escape.
"Athletic? Nah, you're right on that one," Doc replies with a wave of her hand as she ties Booker's rope around her waist and carefully makes her way out the nearby window. "But you know, I used to climb a lot of trees and stuff as a kid. Got pretty good at the whole balancing act..."
Once outside, Doc attempts to carefully walk across the rope like a circus acrobat...
And like a circus acrobat, Doc Featheron joins up with Zakzak and Zindarel. Booker follows shortly after, climbing along the rope while hanging beneath it.
A tall, balding man with an ample belly and a thick, curling mustache pops out of a window. He holds out a large, calloused hand for Booker as the man stumbles into the room. He quickly shuts the window once everyone is inside. "You lot must be making your way to the theater to see what this nightmare is all about, eh?". He hushes a large dog that comes up to the group. "Quiet, Rosie.". He quickly leaves and returns with an iron lockbox. Pulling a matching iron key from a leather cord around his neck, Rickard quickly opens the box, revealing that it is stuffed to the brim with pre-packaged ammo.
"Take what you need, then.I've got more to spare, and antyhign that gets through the front door will have to deal with my cannon first.". he winks, letting the heroes restock their ammo supply.
Maggie, his wife, joins shortly after. Both she and Rickard are able to answer anything about what they've seen on in the neighborhood.
Maggie speaks up. "You may want to head over to the Scothwel's. They're the house next door and are a bit closer to the theater than we are." She leads them to a window (on the second story). "It's an easy leap across the alley. They may have some supplies as well. That's what I would suggest doing next."
Maggie shakes her head. "We believe it started at the play premiere - that's why we're encouraging you to check it out. We had tickets to the next showing and were just changing out of our work clothes when the screaming started. We saw the first wave of those undead blighters come pouring out of the theater shortly after the first yell."
Rickard chimes in, "We didn't notice anything out of the ordinary beforehand, but we were busy working most of the afternoon."
He holds his head down, "I believe ol' mister and missus Scothwel planned to be at the first showing of the play; I'm afraid I might have seen Mr. Scothwel lumbering up the street chasing after some unfortunate people a few moments ago. That means no one should be home. From there, it's a short hop across the street to the theater. If you're quick, quiet, and lucky, you could probably scoot in there without attracting the attention of the undead gathered in the square."
He looks around. "If you need anything else, let us know. We're too old to join. But we want to help you out in any way we can. I'm worried that if something is not done soon - and the root of whatever happened isn't found - then the whole city will turn undead."
"Locked? I've got a solution for that," Doc remarks as she holds up her dragon mouth pistol. Looking more closely, you can actually see the word 'Solution' emblazoned on the side of the barrel. But Doc then quickly chuckles and holsters the weapon once more.
"Nah, just kidding. Not every problem needs a solution like 'Solution'. But I *could* probably wrangle that window open if I had a set of tools. Mister, you got anything like that kicking around your shop?"
"I can also blow up locks if need be," Zakzak adds, laughing with Doc's idea.
"We breaks into the Scothwel's home, liberate their supplies," he grins, air quotes and all. "Sneak into theatre, and go zombie smashing? Sounds good!"
Unless someone stops him, Zakzak runs over to the window and straddles the next clothesline.
Zakzak quickly jumps on the clothesline and shimmies over to the window. His solution? Shoot the lock!
Zakzak aims at the lock and fires a set of rusty old spoons.