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![]() Thresu points at the hill again. "As much as I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice yourself for the rest of us, Borak, I think we'd be better served by gaining a better vantage on the situation by spying on the village from that hill. We don't know what we're going up against, and only a fool walks into a situation without knowing the challenges that lie ahead." He clears his throat and adjust is tricorne hat again. "No disrespect, Borak, but you could walk up to a group with long guns that could shoot you dead before you got within calling distance of them." As for maps, you can just use Google Drawings to make a very basic map to share with us. It doesn't have to be pretty, just lay out the basic layout of the place. ![]()
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![]() Thresu nods to Borak. "Yeah, there's no reason we need to stay here and be consumed by this thing." He backs up and tries to fire a few more slugs into the corpse when his second gun jams. "Dammit!" Gun attack: 1d10 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3, Wild Die: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 5, Wild Die Ace: 1d6 ⇒ 3, so 5+3 = 8 to hit.
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![]() Pulling the Joker also means that the party gets 1 Benny, correct? His eyes widening in terror, Thresu backpedals from the corpse and what it has disgorged. He pulls his other gun and blindly begins firing into the dead body, but all of his shots go wide. (Move action back and draw second weapon, attack with both weapons: Gun1: 1d10 ⇒ 2, Gun1 Wile Die: 1d6 ⇒ 2, Gun2: 1d10 ⇒ 1, Gun2 Wild Die: 1d6 ⇒ 1; awesome, that would be one miss and one Critical Failure.) ![]()
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![]() Fear Test: 1d4 - 3 ⇒ (2) - 3 = -1, Wild Die: 1d6 - 3 ⇒ (4) - 3 = 1
Thresu is "Vulnerable" until the next round. The supernatural dread hanging in the air shakes Thresu to the bones and he instinctively crosses himself and draws his right pistol. He checks that there is a round in the chamber and looks around nervously for a target. He jumps back several feet when Borak discharges his firearm and curses him loudly. "Stop it, god dammit! Everyone will know we're here for miles around." ![]()
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![]() Thresu will accept Nian's bullets if they are the correct caliber for any of the group's guns and pistols. ---------- Seeing the figure, Thresu drops to the ground and shields his eyes with his tri-corner hat to see if he can discern anything unusual about it. He motions for the others to follow his lead. Notice: 1d4 ⇒ 3
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![]() Thresu thanks the man for the additional information and directions and then leans over the bar. "Say, you wouldn't have a long gun you can lend me, Mr. Nian? I've got these pistols," he says briefly lifting up his coat to show them to the innkeeper, "but they aren't much good at long distance shooting." ![]()
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![]() Thresu agrees to the conditions Nian presents and then finds a safe corner to bed down in for the night. ------------------------- In the morning he wakes early and thanks Nian for the canned goods before talking to the innkeep to see if he can get any more detailed directions than "head east to the hills" and can learn anything more specific about these mutates. "So why you want these mutates dead? They attacked you? They attack others? What kind of shenanigans do they get up to?" ![]()
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![]() Oops. Since it was in quotes I thought he was talking. Thresu regards Nian suspiciously and tips back his hat. He must think we're a bunch of chumps that will run off and do his dirty work for him without any proof that he can pay. "How do we know that you can pay us? You say you know where the stash is, but can you prove it? A few trail rations is a nice start, but it's far from proof." ![]()
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![]() Thresu shrugs and pulls himself out of his seat and turns to his card game partners. "Looks like we'll have to put this game on hold, gents. Be right back." He stands, revealing his one mechanical leg, and addresses everyone in the bar. "I'm not going to catch up with any of them on my own, but if someone wants me to tag along, I'm happy to help out in any way I can." ![]()
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![]() Thresu continues sitting at his table with Flying Eagle, but casually unbuckles the straps on his holsters as he watches what is going on. He has not particular allegiance to anyone in this bar, but at the same time hates the sight of blood being spilled ... by morons. Stealth to hide his actions: 1d6 ⇒ 5
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![]() Thresu looks to Flying Eagle. "Nope, the dealer said this was a friendly game, so no betting. Just something to pass the time until whatever is God-forsaken thing that is falling from the sky abates." The slender man then turns back to Gavin. "Never heard of Rickety Kate, but I'm willing to try if you're willing to teach." ![]()
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![]() "I'll have whatever he's having," Thresu intones in a monotone voice pointing at Gavin and placing a small-caliber bullet on the bar. He pulls off a well-weathered backpack and places it at his feet. He appears as a human male approaching middle age wearing a tricorn hat and a long leather overcoat. Judging from the bulges of his coat, you guess that he's packing some heat in two hip holsters, although not a particularly large caliber. His left leg is missing from the knee down and has been replaced with a scarred and pockmarked mechanical prosthesis. "Thresu is the name. Just passing through. Don't want no trouble." |