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I am sorry to do this folks, but it looks like I am not going to be able to continue as your gm. We recently had a tragic death befall the family, on top of an already expected loss. Add to that the youngest having to go back in for a surgery in a few weeks and I will not have the time I need to devote. The time your posse would deserve. Thank you all for the time we have spent together, if you folks wish I can try to find another gm to take over on the forum.
I will look in to how to post to Roll20 after Shabbat.
To your left is the high hill pointed to by Thresu. Though it would serve as a good vantage point, it would also take much time to trek to a good height. a 15 minute hike up.:
If you have climbed this far, you may make a notice check with a +4 bonus The foot path that goes towards the village is long and seems to snake through the swampy lands, unfortunately their is not enough vegetation to give enough cover to block view of the posse if they were all to try hiding. You are pretty sure you could obscure view of three people. Aside from the hill, you look along the low terrain and see that the majority of lands are a swampy morass of dark waters and sludge.
Got back ok, been going through the forum campaigns and I am going to be another day on this one. GMing takes a bit more than being a player. Many apologies.
The area around you is hilly highs and swampy lows with nothing taller than knee high scrub nor denser than a couple plants with a body length between them.
The posse decides upon the better part of valor and push their way past the twisted sentry. The buzz of insects and the smell of rot seems to cling to you as you leave the blighted hill. As you clear the rise of a second hill, you can make out the silhouette of a primitive village in the distance as well as the tell tale dust plume of a people in motion.
As the posse pours lead into the corpse, Gavin and Estelle are able to see a cloud rising from the decrepit carcass. It expands slowly, inexorably, a tide of filth and pestilence.
Party is up. Estelle: You do not see anyone, but there is a lot of hilly land out past the corpse sentry.
Going to give Estelle till tomorrow, then I am gonna push the turn.
The bullet pierces the skull of the hanged man and causes rotted brain matter to explode outwards. A fetid miasma escapes the new hole, followed by the buzz of flies as a cloud of the insects lifts off to the air and a pool of writhing maggots forms at your feat.
No worries Thresu. Thanks for the heads up.
Hard pushing up a hill and a tiring walk later, you come to the peak and the dancing man... or hung man as the case may be. A man hangs, swaying in the breeze. Rotting flesh long past the point of putrification swings this way and that in the wind, though the rope he hangs from does not seem to be attached to anything... merely hanging out into space. The diseased filth that seeps from his eye sockets and dribbles past bloated lips puts most of you on edge.
The posse skirts around the hills and avoids the direct approach through the watchful gaze of the strange figures. Giving them a wide berth you circle around for a mile, but every hill seems to have one swaying back and forth with every errant breeze. Another mile and another for good measure and you have circled back to where you began. You find no way to avoid these figures, but at least you now know how far this tribes territory stretches.
Eagle and Estelle:
Both of you can tell that each of the figures seems to be dancing, or more like swaying slowly back and forth. At this range it is hard to tell. The rest of the party can not make out an discernible facts nor features at this range.
Nian shakes his head at Thresu. "No gun. But, I just got bullets last nights. You want bullet?"
As the party nears the hills further they notice what appear to be loan figures upon the horizon. They stand still and seem to have either not seen you, or taken no notice of you.
Just a heads up, I will be posting tonight. RL decided to toss a curve ball at me this week and I am playing catchup.
Nian looks to Thresu with dead glassy eyes. "Tribe cause many problems. Take food. Take slaves. Burn down town round here. Used to be many people, all gone now except old Nian. Stayed away because warmonger come through, but now no protection there." To the question of better directions. "Follow dry river bed east to hills. Tribe make home there somewhere. Look for hung men."
Eagle: You see figures in the distance as you move in to the hills, they seem to be stationary and watching but you can't make them out well.
Nian continues, hopefully answering Thresu's to his satisfaction. "Old grey uniform army stash. I no can get in, but you resourceful get doors open. No one touch stash, all others know where is dead. I help build roads before bombs drop. Road not there now, but Nian still know where is."
Nian waves the party off in the early morn. The supply sack he handed you has enough old canned goods and dried jerky to give each of you four days worth of rations without scrounging or hunting, longer if you can stretch it. A low warm wind blows in from the south and the smell of stagnant ghost rock water fills the air.
Point taken.
Always glad to have one more. I am waiting to see what everyone decides to do now that you have two hooks to play with. Go after the chief, or go after the overlord. Or, everyone could say they don't need that hassle and head off for another state. Going to give everyone till Sunday night and then I will push on with whatever the majority decides.
Nian smiles his tooth deprived grin once more, dead eyes focusing upon Thresu. "I only one, if no stash you big group come back make much trouble. That proof enough enough yes." Nian turns that grin on Borak as the question seems to confuse the man slighly. "cái bù ne mister! One chief, he just have two head. One big, one little."
Nian smiles a nearly toothless grin at Eagle as he speaks,"Sound like you have idea on big time haul, but before there minor issue you do yes? Tribe of mutant, big chief many kids. Warmongers kind keep him from coming round, but he get wind of change soon enough. If someone stop him from being problem, I maybe know where prewar stash is. Part with information for chief heads, both them. Tribe live out in hills from where sun come." He points off in the general direction of the badlands to your east, a few days walk would find you near the hills as far as any of your can recon. "Good faith I provide trail ration." From under his counter he pulls a brown denim sack large enough to hold a few days rations for a posse such as yours, with any luck you may be able to ration and supplement long enough to make it stretch there and back if need be.
Eagle: Just a reminder, this was just a warmonger. They are underlings to the overlord, he still holds sway within the warehouse with quite a large army.
GM stuff:
As the war leader topples from the bullet lodged firmly in his guts, his pack of wasteland warriors begin to scatter like cockroaches. Fear grips their bowels and most void themselves in panic as their terrified minds search for escape. Nian looks on, annoyed that he will now have to clean his floors. He sighs and asks "You want job? I pay good you take care of problem way you deal with that one."
GM rolls:
The warmonger startles and steps back a bit from the creature and Borak, visibly shaken by the spirit and his summoner. The rest of his posse begin to look around at the room nervously. Nian softly clucks at the stupidity of it all and watches the coming storm, possibly adding up the total property loss this little conflict may end up costing him.
Nian stands and watches the mayhem unfold before him. He does notice Estelle and her question. "No need gun, death make me stronger than gun." The warmonger laughs as he looks at the new challenge with a gleeful grin. "Brother, I am going to shove that creature up your back end. Then, I am going to take you and shove your head up that corpse's hind end for the trouble." He seems to ready himself and takes up a ridiculously flashy wrestling stance.
As long as people are fine with it, I can pull out my deadlands deck and pull cards for these things.
Flying Eagle:
You know well of the Overlord of S-mart. Warmongers being his lieutenants at in the waste. They are big and brawny, and their men are fearless as long as the warmonger lives, but if he is taken down the rest scatter. The Overlord is known for putting on gladiatorial combats within the walls of his warehouse fortress. He has become more bold as of late since his main competition in the black hats has been much reduced. 9-Diamonds
Gavin and Estelle are up, everyone else after the Warmonger.
Giving a bit for anyone who wants to respond to the situation and then will push into the combat round.
The bulky man in leather turns, muscles bulging as he focuses upon Borak. "Are you talking to me brother? You must have lost your mind in the storm or you were a fool when you were born, but now you have stepped up to the real deal and your attitude must be brought to heel. You got something to prove brother?" The rest of his posse begins to give the two of you a wide berth as they slowly form a circle around Lord Borak and the Warmonger. Flying eagle spies no obvious mutants among the bunch, though many look a might more buff than you normally find in the wasted west.
Nian smiles a nearly toothless grin as his pulls a 1L bottle of gritty liquid out from under his counter. "Water true good mam. Small grit never kill anyone. Ghost fire, now that killed." He laughs gently at his statement, a glint in his eye telling you he had seen it first hand. As the rains wind down and your card game kicks off, you hear an odd howling sound replace the ever present rattle of water on rooftop. A howling, and a roar. The noise becomes deafening before cutting out, seconds later you hear the sounds of movement out side before a collection of men and women dressed in leathers and denim push their way in and crowd what space is left within. A single larger hulking brute dressed in the most outlandish black leather harness and steel mask walks toward Nian, the Chinese harrowed looks none to happy to see him. "I tell you, you not welcome here warmonger. Bust up too many tables, no grow on trees."
I'm giving Estelle till I get up tomorrow morning and then I will move along and let her catch up as soon as she gets back. Sorry for the delay folks.
No worries, nothing major missed. The gang is all here.
"Ai shei shei. You buy so no trouble." Nian pulls out another bottle of water, though this one is only half as full as the one he pulled for Gavin.
The barman pours out a smaller amount of the clear liquid for Flying Eagle. Passing it he then goes and leans against the wall, waiting for new customers or renewed orders.
Sloth/Speed
The rotted man gives the impression of a smile to Gavin and pulls a glass of a clear liquid, placing it at the edge of the counter. He then pulls out a crumpled plastic bottle filled with what looks to be slightly dirty water. "No well, you take bottle water, good filter." At Borak placing the .45 round, a small cup is poured and pushed forward, the smell of which brings to mind a harsh toxic swamp. "You take Baijiu, no lip now. Only drink many miles, you understand now." The bartender then eyes eagle. "What you want?"
If ya missed it Branding, would still love to have your gunslinger.
Each of you has traveled for your own reasons, and each has ended up within the blasted wastes of Oklahoma. If it was not for the sudden downpour of black viscous rain none would currently find themselves in the little saloon currently run by a half rotted corpse named Nian, but beggars can not be choosers with, and the weather would have been your death if you had not found shelter when you had. The pounding lash of the rain against the structure is accompanied by a low sad howling wind. Nian looks out upon the gathered strangers and speaks but a few words. "You buy or you get out. This not a shrine."
Seems good, hadn't caught the change from harrowed. No preference for stat lines as I find it easier to just pull a character open and check them over.
No, as long as Branding shows up with the gunslinger you should be fine for players.
A toxic shaman, a harrowed shaman, a syker and a librarian walk into a bar. Now we are waiting on a gunslinger and possibly an ex anti-templar. I will post the main campaign and starting hook tomorrow. Feel free to post any other questions or concerns.
And then there were three. Zen, I am being generous with a one foot depth. Honestly, depending on the type of pollution of course, one foot deep would be barely scratching the surface if it is a chemical soaked into ground water or the scrubbing required of a 10 mile zone from a nuclear meltdown. Plus, he would need time to sleep and eat that couldn't be spent working at it. I really wish savage worlds had printed a power since a straight port of cleanse/corrupt doesnt quite do the job, but we work with what we have.
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