Many thanks, and thanks for making it such a fun run too.
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"Ya, sure Doc. But I get some ov ta winnins." agrees Booker with a smile. "And I thin I'll be havin a drink to celebrate ma night at tha opera."
I'll move it to 2002. Thanks very much for GMing this. It was a lot of fun. Obviously there to show off the new Guns and Gears material and demonstrate how varied gunslingers can be- but a lot of fun.
Do we roll with our characters downtime, or the pregens? I'm also tempted to move the chronicle to a different character, is the one-shot an open-level chronicle, or does it have a level range I need to be within? Assuming it is the character..
Booker provides advice on fortifying the town against a future zombie invasion!
Booker shudders as the dark energy washes over him
"Can yer take it as well as dish it out?" he asks.
Booker smiles as the Melsa pulls back from him.
"Damn, that stings." he mutters, advancing up to Harven to give him a poorly timed slap with the butt of his gun.
Booker quickly reloads his scattergun. Seeing the brazier nearby he grins, passing his reinforced stock through the flaming oil before suggesting "Time for some of your own medicine"
"If they keep healing each other, this will take some time. Best finish one off quickly.."
"Arghhhh" cries out Booker as the dark energy washes over him.
"That was downright unneighbourly." says Booker, smarting from the dagger strike. Scattergun in hand, he passes the reinforced stock through the flames before shoving it into the face of Melsa.
He then steps back, not wanting to get flanked.
Booker, wary of being surrounded, steps carefully back, and then retreats to a convenient position next to a handy flaming torch. Grinning he opens fire with his scattergun, trying to finish off the last zombie, and weaken the strange zombie masters.
"I think yer play is runnin outa cast." he comments dryly.
Booker advances into the room. Scatter guns are great, but the mass is thinned out now. So he just aims at the closest zombie And pulls his trigger.
And then quickly reloads. "Actually, this play is better than I expected. Although I think it is rather derivative. I heard the original in Oppara received quite the reception."
Booker reloads his blunderbus, and takes aim... Then, realising that those zombies really are quite close, and both he and Doc will be caught in the blast if he aimed at the one in yellow clothing, he swings to blast at the zombie in an elegant black cape.
The zombie in black's head vanishes in a satisfying "poof" of blood. If yellow also drops, he'll move up to the doorway, with his last action, otherwise he quickly reloads.
Booker reloads as Doc runs past him. "And ye wonder why the woman needs a minder?" he sighs, stomping back into the street and putting himself between her and the remaining zombie hoard. Grinning he takes aim with his scattergun, hoping it works out better this time as he aims for the concentration around the zombie in purple robes.
Booker looks around, finding himself alone in the hoard of zombies. "Geaz, thanks Doc. I gota ya back... well would if I could see it." All too aware of the various zombies desire for his tasty flesh, Booker steps carefully back from the pink one before pointing his scattergun at the zombie in black and pulling the trigger.
He then joins Doc, who has shown previous experience in knowing exactly when to walk away- and when to run, in high-tailing it inside the inn. "Ya know next time, maybe I'll just shoot from upstairs." ◆ Step
Gritting his teeth Booker tries his (not very good) luck once again. Waiting until the zombie's seem to be facing the other way, he tries to slip silently across the road to join up with Doc.
For once his luck holds and the big man is like the night breeze, slipping silently through the darkness with practiced ease.
Scatter I think can be handy, especially if the zombies have vulnerability to the damage type. Speaking of which, have we determined if these do have any particular vulnerabilities yet?
Booker winces as Doc with her usual bedside manner makes things worse before they get better. "a know, anyone might tink dat you didn't like helpin folk.." he mutters. Still, Doc's techniques were effective... especially at keeping those who were not quite sick *enough* away from taking too much of her time. Certianly didn't stop him pocketing the remaining healing potions. "Any of you get bit bad, let me know." he says to the rest of the team. "I'm all for thinning out the hoard from up here. Never heard of nobody getting better after becoming a zombie. But I'm *not* keen on splitting up the team doc, you try sneaking across, I'll be right behind you."
Booker continues to look around the cafe/bra. His own "hip flask" empty, he's especially searching for something that might pass as a first aid kit, complete with healing potion for emergencies.
Booker, noting the ease with which Doc leapt the gap, suggests.
He backs up, waits for Zindarel to finish climbing up and then jumps the gap himself.
yeah, just waiting for hte window to get unlocked, figure the ledge might get a bit full otherwise.
Booker watches with horror and gets ready to let down the rope ladder to save Zakzak. "I thought that goblins bounced..."
Booker also helps himself, although he carefully checks the ammunition as he takes it. Quality here is okay. Maybe I shouldn't keep making it myself... But then, I won't always be here... I hope.
Booker offers a somewhat battered smile as he crawls through the window. "Ugh... Say Doc, you remember when you bad mouthed those card-sharps about four weeks ago"? I feel more beat up than after that rumble." He takes out his hip flask and has another tot from it.
Then, seeing it empty puts it on the table for the couple. "Been a lucky flask for me that one." he says "Might bright you two some luck if we survive the night." He offers a hopeful look at Doc "Got any more bandages? Think I twisted ma ankle falling offa da clothes line."
Catching himself, Booker tries to finish descending the line..
"Everyone forgets the big guy also knows stuff." grumbles Booker.
Booker gives Doc a push to help her fly down the line, turning to the others as he does she. "She's been needin a push outa da window for a while now." he tries to explain.
"I like the line idea...." says Booker. "Style. But I think maybe I should go last... just in case me weight be a bit too much for the line." Nothing to do with more ammo. Nope. no way.
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."
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.
Ahh, that makes sense.
"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."
I thought misfires were just when you didn't clean the weapon once a day? I think I'm missing a whole set of rules somewhere... or are they specific rules for the one-shot?
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.
"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.."
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."
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.
You still end up with thousands of different aliases. Which I why I am going to reuse Valrani for this game.
Booker has training in crafting via his munitions crafter feat, but it is not listed in his skills. I manually added it. It also doesn't list the formulae he knows - which is more of a problem.
Congrats on getting a new GM. Any chance you could remove me from the game? My active campaigns tab is starting to get a little full.
If you could drop me from the campaign, that would help clean up my campaigns page.
I've had a bit of a think. While changing characters would be an option, I'd feel a bit odd doing that after being in here for ... a few years. I've enjoyed the game, but found over the last few months that my enjoyment has been slipping. And in an AP players/characters who are not pulling their weight and tugging on all the various plot threads are pretty much dead weight. At this stage I'd prefer to just step back from the game.
I think if someone else is willing to step in, I'd prefer to step back. I've been having a hard time getting invested in Val, which has made my contribution to the actual RP side of this quite limited.
I have to admit, I'm slightly keener to stepping back from the game at this point.
"And helping others is the best way to get help for ourselves." adds in Valrani. |