As for the Climbers, you have reached the 10th session, the first game for 2015 and the ending of a month-long pause between sessions. Refreshingly everyone showed up on time, something that became a bit more regular this year even if we met less often.
We started with a time jump as people worked on their projects following the escape from the Autodoc. Gator is resting, hoping his face is at least half intact. His player also felt sick, much like the character. Violet and her followers are regrouping while Jarhead begins to rebuild. Only November is unfazed by the recent turn of events.
As in my earlier actual play reports, small green text indicates out of character talk, mechanics and other game aspects outside of the fiction.
Our main characters are:
- Gator (the Gunlugger) is an assassin and part-time bodyguard who wears customized scrounged armor made from Kevlar and ceramic inserts. Camouflaged for the jungle, his face was ruined in a fight with an alligator. His eyes are always sizing things up and his brutal life has left his body a hard sheet of muscle. He recently obtained a gang of mercenaries. Then he got blown up.
- Jarhead (the Savvyhead) is a thin African-American man with a short goatee, long dreads, and clothes covered in pockets and gear. Travelling around in an old news van, he repairs items for a living. He is investigating a device that can bend space and time. He has also obtained employees in the form of a young woman Allison and her brother Waters as well as a little girl named Memo.
- November Orleans (the Skinner) is descended from a family which left New Orleans before it sank. She is a beautiful woman of mixed heritage with dark eyes and skin, a sweet face and lush body. She dresses herself in a mix of scavenged clothing that somehow works together and wears a necklace made from rows of antique coins which jingle and shine as she moves. Her main profession is as a dancer, especially belly dancing, but she has a sideline business in cooking and animal training.
- Violet Jefferson (the Touchstone) is descended by survivalists and her clothing and gear reflects her origins. Plain looking but fit, she carries a pocket copy of the Federalist papers and founding documents of the United States of America, an idea she hopes to revive. Her followers are demanding her help putting on a mission to liberate Miami from a tyrant.
Start of Session
As usual we begin by highlighting stats:- Violet gets Sharp (by Gator) and Hard highlighted.
”And tonight’s opening song is in B#,” November quips.
- Jarhead gets Weird (by November) and (because I’m a bit of jerk) Cool highlighted.
- November gets Hot (by Gator) and Weird highlighted.
- Gator gets Sharp (by Violet) and Weird (since I’m compensating him for a roll he must make).
Next I comment on my findings after reviewing the log. It seems Violet has incorrectly marked experience and failed to mark 4 times. This is enough for her to get a new move. After some thought she picks Clear eyed.
Then we jump to Music Bowl two weeks later and some love letters to cover what happened in between.
Jarhead
You’ve got a lot on your plate. Luckily you are not hurt and only missing bits of your workshop. And you have food.Allison finishes the taser in the first week. Here are its stats:
- [s-harm hand refill hitech]
With the manpower available to you, you can get two other tasks done in the two weeks of downtime. You can press ahead and try for more but roll +cool. On a 10+ they all get done. On a 7-9 something doesn’t, you pick. On a miss, nothing is complete yet and expect some fallout.
Projects:
- Night vision goggles [hitech, negates darkness difficulties]
- Fancy motorcycle (if not completed Wisher will be upset)
- Recast Tesla sphere (if you try and fail to complete it, your augury will be unavailable until you finish it)
- Make new machining tools
- Searching for the Messenger (if not worked on expect Shadow to be upset)
After some clarification, Jarhead decides to try to do everything, Despite his -1 stat, he gets 7. He marks experience and decides that the Tesla sphere is incomplete. It remains partially melted down, halfway through the process of reforging.
Violet
Well your followers’ plan for Joshua and Scarlet didn’t work out. Mark an experience.This is due to her using Insight last session. Finally.
Wire returned with word from the Big Ship. Roll +sharp to see how the mission went. On a hit he made contact with Kim. On a 10+ pick 2 questions. On a 7-9 pick 1 question. On a miss Wire comes back with news and it’s not good.
- Where could someone hide on the Big Ship?
- What is the best way onto the Big Ship?
- Who is loyal to White?
- What should I be on the lookout for?
- Believes in democracy but is not a fighter (but might have support skills).
- Is willing and able to fight White’s tyranny (in other words a skilled combatant).
- Joins your followers.
- Is inspired by you personally.
Violet starts with the sharp roll and gets a 9 (with Wire’s return Gator’s gang now includes 11 members). She marks experience and asks “Who is loyal to White?”
She learns that he has three loyal lieutenants: Rue Wakeman (who they killed last session), Cougar (a monstrous figure in a mask who has been with him a long time) and Winona (a woman with yellow eyes who has a reputation as a techno mystic with special access to the Psychic Maelstrom). Winona keeps a lair in the bowels of the Big Ship. Both of the surviving minions are smart and potentially ambitious. Cougar might lead White’s gang in a reprisal should his/her boss die. Winona would take a different tack though.
Violet decides not to rest very long. She sticks to 1-harm recovered and rolls hard. She gets a 7 and marks experience.
As she considers her options, I point out she could choose “is inspired by you personally." "They don’t argue."
”I think I would find that disturbing,” she says.
She settles on “Is willing and able to fight White’s tyranny.”
”Assuming things work out as planned, Boo will be out soon,” she says.
”That’s a big assumption,” I tell her.
Then she makes her makes Fortunes roll and gets an 8. She chooses +judgmental and gains 2-barter and +insight.
”Everyone just a little bit pissed at how things went down at the Autodoc,” I tell her.
She also earns a new advance and chooses +1 sharp.
Gator
That hurt…a lot. Thankfully the nurses still owe you one and are not about to argue with a badass with a gang.
Roll +weird. On a hit you recover essentially intact, erase all harm but you are out for two weeks. On 7-9 pick 1.
- The other half of your face is ruined (maybe you should get a mask).
- A side deal by Morgana has left your gang entangled in local politics.
- Your skin is really itchy. Lose your -1forward against the climbers.
Either way you have strange dreams. Answer the following questions:
- How old were you when you first killed a person?
- What was your daughter like?
- Who was her mother?
Gator rolls weird and fails. At least he marks experience. He decides that Morgana made a deal behind his back. Not that he knows that yet.
”That sounds like more fun,” he says.
As for his answers, he says he was 23 when he first killed a man.
”He only shot to maim before then,” November jokes.
”I had in my mind the preacher from Trigun,” I explain.
Gator explains he has a different story in mind.
As to his daughter, she was a curious child, friendly to animals. She enjoyed her father’s eye. Gator’s wife was the light of his life. She was a girl from the west, different and exotic.
His dreams flash back to those peaceful pleasant days. For now.
Gator advances as well. He bumps his weird up by 1.
”That sounds like more fun,” he says.
As for his answers, he says he was 23 when he first killed a man.
”He only shot to maim before then,” November jokes.
”I had in my mind the preacher from Trigun,” I explain.
Gator explains he has a different story in mind.
As to his daughter, she was a curious child, friendly to animals. She enjoyed her father’s eye. Gator’s wife was the light of his life. She was a girl from the west, different and exotic.
His dreams flash back to those peaceful pleasant days. For now.
Gator advances as well. He bumps his weird up by 1.
November
The last couple weeks have been a whirlwind of planning, preparation, and practicing. The little time you’ve had to relax has been put to resting, erase 1-harm.
People have been gathering at the Music Bowl for the festival and to escape White. The holding’s population has doubled. Amid the crowds and excitement you’ve noticed a few strange things.
Roll +sharp. On a 10+ hold 3. On a 7-9 hold 1. Spend hold to ask the following:
Finally you need to pay for food and shelter over the last month. Spend 1-barter.
November rolls sharp and get a 5.
That's odd, she thinks before noticing the wain child's mottled green eyes. The spots!
“Hey”, November calls out to the child, slipping off a damp scarf from one arm. The girl's attention fixed, the dancer approaches the urchin. She gracefully slips off the girl's faded and stretched T-shirt and binds her with it.
November uses Arresting Skinner to hold the child in place.
"What were you doing in there?" she asks, smiling charmingly.
Then she uses Hypnotic, rolls hot and gets a hard success. She also marks experience.
Then we jump to others.
The crowd bustles outside, swollen to twice its normal size. While the fading tones of the sacred organ echo from inside, the smell of savory mushrooms waft up from the tent city camped outside the wrecked stadium.
A few people amuse themselves with a visiting carnival but most of the refugees keep a wary eye to the east, where their old homes and White’s forces lurk. A cluster of nurses talk about returning to the Autodoc.
"Who doesn't love a carnival," Jarhead comments.
"It should have opened days ago," Krin comments to a colleague. "Even if they were all infected, the hospital could have processed them all by now."
While the nurses nod in agreement, Jarhead quickly passes by with his latest catch of rats. He hurries back to the foundry and away from the hordes of people.
Inside he finds his employees hard at work. Allison and Memo polish up the motorcycle for Wisher while Waters makes final adjustments on the night vision goggles. He smiles at the progress. Even his lost tools have been replaced.
We also establish that November had her ipad recharged too.
He glances around but Shadow is nowhere to be found. Must be searching for the Messenger among the refugees, he decides, recalling the scan he did when they arrived. He frowns as he considers the melted brick that was the damaged half of the Tesla sphere. I need to fix that.
It can wait until tomorrow, he decides. Wisher should be by with the last of his payment and I can work on other projects then.
Cut to Violet.
As night falls, Violet discusses her next steps with an ex-mercenary called David and her allies.
Everyone agrees that’s a weird name.
Violet explains David is tired of having it so rough. He wants to create a better future and settle down. He grew up here.
"We need to deal with White," the well armed man says. "Look at what he’s done to Miami thus far. At this point the only people able to stand against him are here.”
This next line was Jarhead's but it sounds good here.
"So everyone willing to stand against him are in one spot," AOL comments.
"Yeah, that sounds like a bad idea now that I say that." He glances east. "We should expect an attack."
"We should," Violet says. The plain woman starts adjusting some of the bandages over her burns.
"Where are those mercenaries?" David asks. "We need to be harder to hit, we need to be more spread out."
Violet looks up from her work. "Where are those mercenaries?" she asks sharply.
I inform her she hasn’t seen them in a few days. Gator is still unconscious in the nurses' camp by the old concession stands. He was pretty banged up but should be waking up soon.
Cut back to November.
"You have a hypnotized, stripped and tied up a little girl," I tell her.
"I feel proud about it," she responds.
November leans over the dirt covered child. "What were you doing in the food larder?" she asks kindly.
"I had to spread those," the girl says, motioning to a pouch.
November pulls it open, her cold eyes never leaving the child. She loosens the drawstring, revealing dozens of granular spores. Smiling to the child, she lets the pouch slide closed and steps away. "How much did you cover?"
The fair haired child scrunches her eyes. "Uh, lots."
November adjusts the bindings to cover the child. Then she glances about, spotting an official of the Music Bowl. She calls out to the white robed figure.
"What's going on?" he asks walking closer.
"I saw this girl come out of the subbasement," November says. "She says she was instructed to spread spores."
The priest steps away. “Oh dear! I must tell the inner council.”
November catches his hand. "What’s to stop someone from taking the infested food?"
With dawning horror, he shouts to a gathering of his comrades. “Guard the doors, someone has been spreading spores in the food supply!”
And word swiftly spreads.
We jump to Gator who just arrived (only slightly late).
A steady beeping intrudes on Gator's sleep. The tempo jumps as sensations of pain and muggy heat leak into his awareness. His eyes flicker open.
To his left, wires connect electrodes to a monitoring device. Fuzzily he tries to focus on what happened. He recalls pleasant days. Days before the killing, when his wife and child were alive.
"What happened?" I ask.
Gator says something violent. They were either taken or killed.
He drifts back under. His bandaged brow furrows as with the memory of distant gunshots. He dreams of things moving in darkness. The distant beeping speeds up. His wife screams. A shot rings out. His daughter, she-
Gator's eyes snap open. Sore muscles spring into action, lifting the muscular man into sitting position. He blinks. A plastic tarp covers the ceiling, lit by a single hanging lightbulb. As the machine continues to beep, he spots shadowy figures outside of the tent.
‘"What?!” one exclaims.
"They put spores in the food," another repeats.
“What are we going to do?” the first whines.
Gator shifts his legs off the bed. His skin screams under the thick bandages. Sliding to the ground, his bare feet find concrete. A mirror mounted on a cabinet reflects a mess of bandages across his face and down under his thin hospital gown.
The mercenary takes stock of his situation. Weathered concrete makes up the back wall, pockmarked with old bullet holes. A couple crates and a small table with medical supplies complete the furnishings. Gator snatches a scalpel off the table and silently pads to the crates.
”Now we are getting somewhere,” he says rearming himself.
Inside he finds scraps of his clothing, blood stained and charred. Beneath that he uncovers his heavy Kevlar armor. Glancing to the entrance, he investigates to the left hand side of the room. Lifting the plastic tarp, he finds another unoccupied hospital bed. He grabs his gear and slips out.
A long beep rings out as the electrodes pull off. Once in the other ‘room’, Gator grabs some other gowns from another grungy cabinet and dresses, placing his armor over several layers of hospital gowns. As the sound of people grows closer, he slips through the opposite side of the tent.
He finds a supply room. Freestanding shelves hold meager supplies of drugs, clothing and medical gear. Gator pulls some scrubs over his armor and covers his face with a mask. Then he slips out into the night.
He rolls Acting under fire and gets a 9.
A concrete ceiling looms overhead extending out to what were once floor to ceiling windows. Inside what was his tent several people talk excitedly. Elsewhere it seems everyone has gone to sleep. As he turns to leave he spots a gun barrel sticking out of a crate near his tent. It could be his sniper rifle.
Offering a hard choice.
He cautiously approaches. He hears people talking inside. “Where did he go? He should be here?”
Gator pulls out the soot covered sniper rifle. He dimly sees his MP5 deeper within as well as plenty of knives. With a quick heft, he picks up the entire boxes and stalks back to the supply room.
I have him roll Acting under fire again. He rolls a 7.
He lurches inside before the others can see him. As he sets down the heavy box, he hears a metallic crunch.
“Oh great,” he mutters. He digs out his weapons one by one checking for damage. After stowing his knives, he puts the guns and the rocket launcher in a net bag from one of the shelves, wrapping them in old scrubs.
Then he quietly walks out into the night.
Then we jump to Jarhead.
Jarhead makes some adjustments to the motorcycle’s engine. He starts as Allison taps him on the shoulder.
“Did you hear?” the young woman asks.
“Hear what?”
“The food supply at the Music Bowl!” she blurts out. “They said it’s all infected with spores. I’m glad we didn’t eat any of those mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms?” he says absently turning back to his work.
“Yeah that’s what they eat around here. It sounded a little better than eating rat but at least with rat you know what you are getting.” She moves to the other side of the bike to face him. “You think it was White?”
”Rat, it’s healthy and nutritious!”
“It is always White,” he says tiredly, “he’s the bogey man.”
“What does White even look like? All I know is his name.”
Jarhead scratches his head. “A guy as far as I know. That’s a good question. We probably should find that out.”
“I guess when Gator wakes up he’s going to have to find out. Isn’t he supposed to kill White or something? No one tells me stuff.”
“It is a need to know basis,” the scrawny man explains. “I don’t need to know and thus you don’t either. More importantly are the night vision goggles finished?”
She smiles and holds them out to him. “Yes, I was just putting the finishing touches on them.”
“Excellent.”
“We got everything done except the recasting,” she informs him.
“That takes more finesse than you’ve got,” he says.
“Need anything more from us tonight? Otherwise I’ll get Waters to bed.”
“Help me lock up the foundry, just in case someone comes looking for rat.”
We return to Violet and David.
As Violet and David stroll around the dimly lit arena, they notice a refugee running to a cluster of people around a campfire.
“Spores! Spores in the food!” he tells them hurriedly. “The priest said there were-”
A scarred woman joins them. “Someone was spreading spores in the mushroom farms!”
“What are we going to eat?” a high pitched voice asks. “We are all going to get the climbers!”
Then she runs off to tell others.
Violet looks to David. “I think we should investigate.”
They approach the growing crowd. “What is going on?” David barks.
“Well I heard it from Yen,” someone stammers. “He said they caught a climber girl trying to spread spores through the subbasement.”
Violet grabs David. “Let’s check it out.”
As they hurry to the nearest door, a man in a bloodstained smock stops them.
“Have you seen Gator?” Krin asks.
“No,” Violet tells him.
“He’s missing,” the technician explains. “His weapons and gear are also missing.”
“If I see him I’ll let you know.”
“Alright, I’ll keep searching.”
Back to November.
As two white robed guards secure the doorway to the subbasement, November continues her questioning of the infected girl. “Where are the other bags?” she asks anticipating more bad news.
“They are with Joey and Trout,” the child answers.
“That’s who,” the dancer corrects her. “Where are they?”
“They were going to go to the other entrances.”
November glances about. There are five entrances to the tunnels beneath the stadium. Five that are known. “I want you to wait here and answer any questions the priests ask of you.”
The girl dumbly nods.
And uses up a hold from Hypnotic.
November moves swiftly to the other doors. She finds a gateway sealed with a barricade of wood and wire and flanked by guards at the east entrance. As she approaches the next pathway, she collides with Violet.
“Ouch! Violet watch where you are going!”
“Very funny,” Violet says regaining her balance. “What’s going on? I heard there was trouble.”
“Well yeah if contamination of the food supply is trouble,” she says quickly. “I heard there are two other intruders working on contaminating the rest. I’m checking that all of the entrances are guarded so we can catch them.” Spying a thicket of robed figures ahead by the ladder down into the tunnels, she continues, “I still need to check the north staircase and the west elevator shaft.”
“I’ll check that the staircase,” Violet offers.
November nods and they split up.
November notes I momentarily had two characters in the same place. For first time for the evening. I need to get better at that.
Back to Gator.
Gator circles the huge round structure. The only stadium he recalls nearby is the Music Bowl. He can’t recall visiting before but it seems very full. Large crowds of people camp outside the ruins. They cast fearful glances east while chattering about the recent advances by White. As he wanders a new topic comes to dominate their nervous talk.
“We came all this way just we could have something to eat and not be zombies,” Gator overhears from a mangy knot of young men. “And now it’s freakin infested with spores!”
“Nah, nah,” a spiky haired man says. “I heard there’s another food supply. There’s this guy who has been collecting rats. He’s set himself up in that little workshop area.”
“We should go and take his rats,” the first man replies. “Then we don’t need to worry about the mushrooms. Plus meat would be tastier. Real meat that isn’t radioactive.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” a third mutters.
“Let’s go get that rat meat,” a pair of others cheer.
Sounds like a good idea, Gator thinks to himself. His stomach grumbles and sloshes. He trails behind them as they enter the Music Bowl.
”Like you’ve been eating through tube for the last two weeks.”
They head into the tunnels beneath the stands. Dirty cinder block walls make up the walls, lit by dying fluorescent lights. The air grows hotter and the sounds of machinery at work overwhelms the babble from outside. The gang comes to a stop in front of a pair of metal doors.
The spiky haired leader pulls at the handles. They open a quarter inch before the chains inside hold them fast.
“Bastards locked themselves in,” the red haired complainer shouts. “I bet they were behind it. They knew this was going to happen.”
The pair bang on the door. Jarhead’s muffled voice calls out, “no business except party business.”
“Let us in,” the leader shouts.
“Uh, no.”
Recognizing the voice, Gator casts his eyes for another way in. He spots a side passage that should bring him close to the area behind the door. Quickly he slips away.
Gator reads a sitch and gets an 8. He marks experience and asks what is the best way through.
Jarhead offers, “It’s a foundry.”
“That’s a really terrible way to get in,” I point out. I then tell him that while the door is solid steel, the walls are not as tough.
“Let’s just break it down,” one of the ruffians suggests.
“If you do not get away from the door, it will go badly for you!” Jarhead warns.
“What are you going to do?” the leader says with a laugh.
Inside Jarhead connects electrical leads to the door and waits. A moment later someone pounds on the door. He immediately hears a cry of pain.
”Suckers!” Jarhead comments.
After some cursing, someone fires a gun at door. The tinkerer smiles as he hears the bullet ricochet down the tunnel.
“I have an idea,” a muffled voice says. Then the gang gets quiet.
Elsewhere Gator slowly and carefully chips away the mortar between several cinder blocks. He gently slides them out of the way and slips inside.
Gator chooses to Act under fire to get inside quietly. He gets an 11.
Jarhead turns back to his work to find the gunlugger calmly leaning on a workbench.
“Gator! How the hell did you get in?” Jarhead says with a start. “You didn’t come down the chimney?”
“You left the back door open,” he says smiling horribly.
“I what?”
“Seems like you have a problem here,” Gator states.
“Seriously how did you get in?” Jarhead looks behind the bandaged man. No clue remains of his entrance. “How?”
“It looks like you might need to get out,” Gator comments.
Jarhead shakes his head. “Well it’s good to see you up on your feet.”
“I’m still feeling a bit sore,” the mercenary admits. “What day is it?”
“It has been about two weeks.”
“That sounds about right.” He sets his weapons on the bench. “I haven’t found my barter yet.”
“That I can’t help you with but here’s a rat,” the tinkerer says handing him a charred piece of rodent on a stick. “Was there something I need to worry about? They seemed like putzes.”
“Nothing right away,” Gator says biting into his rat. “They went to get something.”
Jarhead glances across the large room to his van. Allison yawns and gets up, leaving Memo and Waters to sleep inside.
“In the meantime,” Gator asks, “have you seen Morgana or anybody else around? What happened at the Autodoc?”
“The Autodoc sealed up because of the spores,” Jarhead explains. “It has to cleanse itself.”
“Wasn’t that supposed to open a week ago?” Allison says.
“Yeah, it keeps getting delayed,” he tells Gator. “So we’ve been chilling in the Music Bowl. This is the foundry, this is my space.”
Allison turns to the injured man. “Are you okay Gator?”
“I’ve been better. I’ve been worse, definitely been worse.” He turns back to his rat, picking the meat from the bones. Jarhead offers him another rat. Gator waves him off. “One will be enough for now. Another would just end up on the floor. I’ve done this before.”
Gator picks a scrap of meat from his teeth and tosses the remains in a bin. “So did everybody make out alive? That we care about.”
As Jarhead lists off people who escaped, Allison interjects, “Boo didn’t make it out.”
“That’s too bad,” Gator says.
”Yeah. But shit happens,” Jarhead says.
“Does that mean we have a vehicle open?” the mercenary asks.
“I think Violet gave the keys to his son,” the young woman says.
“Okay.”
The wiry man adds, “Most of us made it out okay. Your mercs have been busy. I haven’t seen them in the past couple days.”
Allison nods. “They went off someplace.”
“Maybe they got a job?” Gator guesses.
Suddenly the roar of an engine reverberates from the entranceway. After an initial growl, it grows louder and louder. Jarhead rushes to the steel doors.
Jump back to November.
A crowd blocks November as she approaches the shaft entrance. She cranes her neck to see four men and women in robes trying to hold back the mob as they shout their concerns. "Is the food safe? What are you going to do?"
November gets atop a ruined counter. "People!" she shouts. "You are not doing any good here. The council is working on the issue. The best we can do for now is take stock of what food we know is clean and let these people do their job.”
After a lot of discussion, I let her roll something like Manipulate a person. I offered acting under fire instead but relented when she threatened to use with Arresting Skinner.
She gets a 12 and marks experience. We decide that the advanced option does not come into play here.
A tall figure in green steps out of the crowd. “Someone should talk the council immediately. They need to respond to this.”
"Go talk to the council," she suggests.
“They’re going to talk to us?” he says. "We are refugees."
"I can talk to them if you like," she offers.
The crowd murmurs and nods. Slowly they disperse.
November approaches the relieved guards. "Did you see any signs that someone entered the tunnels?"
"We arrived just before the crowd," a fair headed priestess explains. She glances down the shaft. "The rope ladder is still up and coiled. I don't think anyone was here before us."
November looks down into the darkness. She reaches out with her mind. Joey, she calls.
November rolls Lost, gets a failure and marks experience.
She feels no connection, no sensation. Only a yawning darkness. Shiver runs up her spine as the maelstrom swirls through her thoughts, picking at her secrets.
Now for three harsh questions. First I ask, "what do you fear most?"
She says oblivion, the collapse of society, and the end of her.
"What would you sacrifice to ensure that never happens?" (I should’ve asked what wouldn’t she sacrifice).
She explains she wouldn't sacrifice innocents.
"Do you think your family wants you back?"
"Yes of course."
And now back to Violet.
Violet arrives at the stairwell to find the rotten wooden door unguarded. Her sharp eyes pick out recent scuff marks on the muddy floor. The distant sound of something falling echoes up from below.
Violet Reads a sitch and gets a 9. She marks experience. "What’s my enemy’s true position?" she asks.
Pulling on her gas mask, Violet pushes the door open. As she descends the shadow stairs, she hears a high pitch voice whimpering. At the base of the stairs she spots a pair of children. One lies face down in the thick soil while the other bends over him shaking his shoulder.
“Joey, joey get up!” the child cries.
Violet shines a light on the prone figure. The dirty haired child looks about ten. His head lies cracked open, a pale stalk sticking out a foot from his ruined skull.
The other child looks up with moist green eyes.“Joey won’t get up,” she cries as her forehead bulges and throbs.
A grimace crosses her face as Violet trains her rifle on the child. With a single shot she dispatches the doomed girl.
“I feel like a terrible person but there’s nothing I can do,” she says.
That's it for now. See you in two weeks.
People have been gathering at the Music Bowl for the festival and to escape White. The holding’s population has doubled. Amid the crowds and excitement you’ve noticed a few strange things.
Roll +sharp. On a 10+ hold 3. On a 7-9 hold 1. Spend hold to ask the following:
- What should I be on the lookout for?
- What does this place or these people have to offer me?
- How could I gain access to this place’s or these people’s secrets?
- How could I gain the undivided attention of all present?
- How could I best become accepted as a part of this place or these people?
- What or who is the source of the most pain here?
Finally you need to pay for food and shelter over the last month. Spend 1-barter.
November rolls sharp and get a 5.
Playing at the Music Bowl
November makes her way back to her dressing room after a long day of rehearsals. In the fading light she notices a young girl slipping out the door into the Music Bowl's subbasements.That's odd, she thinks before noticing the wain child's mottled green eyes. The spots!
“Hey”, November calls out to the child, slipping off a damp scarf from one arm. The girl's attention fixed, the dancer approaches the urchin. She gracefully slips off the girl's faded and stretched T-shirt and binds her with it.
November uses Arresting Skinner to hold the child in place.
"What were you doing in there?" she asks, smiling charmingly.
Then she uses Hypnotic, rolls hot and gets a hard success. She also marks experience.
Then we jump to others.
The crowd bustles outside, swollen to twice its normal size. While the fading tones of the sacred organ echo from inside, the smell of savory mushrooms waft up from the tent city camped outside the wrecked stadium.
A few people amuse themselves with a visiting carnival but most of the refugees keep a wary eye to the east, where their old homes and White’s forces lurk. A cluster of nurses talk about returning to the Autodoc.
"Who doesn't love a carnival," Jarhead comments.
"It should have opened days ago," Krin comments to a colleague. "Even if they were all infected, the hospital could have processed them all by now."
While the nurses nod in agreement, Jarhead quickly passes by with his latest catch of rats. He hurries back to the foundry and away from the hordes of people.
Inside he finds his employees hard at work. Allison and Memo polish up the motorcycle for Wisher while Waters makes final adjustments on the night vision goggles. He smiles at the progress. Even his lost tools have been replaced.
We also establish that November had her ipad recharged too.
He glances around but Shadow is nowhere to be found. Must be searching for the Messenger among the refugees, he decides, recalling the scan he did when they arrived. He frowns as he considers the melted brick that was the damaged half of the Tesla sphere. I need to fix that.
It can wait until tomorrow, he decides. Wisher should be by with the last of his payment and I can work on other projects then.
Cut to Violet.
As night falls, Violet discusses her next steps with an ex-mercenary called David and her allies.
Everyone agrees that’s a weird name.
Violet explains David is tired of having it so rough. He wants to create a better future and settle down. He grew up here.
"We need to deal with White," the well armed man says. "Look at what he’s done to Miami thus far. At this point the only people able to stand against him are here.”
This next line was Jarhead's but it sounds good here.
"So everyone willing to stand against him are in one spot," AOL comments.
"Yeah, that sounds like a bad idea now that I say that." He glances east. "We should expect an attack."
"We should," Violet says. The plain woman starts adjusting some of the bandages over her burns.
"Where are those mercenaries?" David asks. "We need to be harder to hit, we need to be more spread out."
Violet looks up from her work. "Where are those mercenaries?" she asks sharply.
I inform her she hasn’t seen them in a few days. Gator is still unconscious in the nurses' camp by the old concession stands. He was pretty banged up but should be waking up soon.
Cut back to November.
"You have a hypnotized, stripped and tied up a little girl," I tell her.
"I feel proud about it," she responds.
November leans over the dirt covered child. "What were you doing in the food larder?" she asks kindly.
"I had to spread those," the girl says, motioning to a pouch.
November pulls it open, her cold eyes never leaving the child. She loosens the drawstring, revealing dozens of granular spores. Smiling to the child, she lets the pouch slide closed and steps away. "How much did you cover?"
The fair haired child scrunches her eyes. "Uh, lots."
November adjusts the bindings to cover the child. Then she glances about, spotting an official of the Music Bowl. She calls out to the white robed figure.
"What's going on?" he asks walking closer.
"I saw this girl come out of the subbasement," November says. "She says she was instructed to spread spores."
The priest steps away. “Oh dear! I must tell the inner council.”
November catches his hand. "What’s to stop someone from taking the infested food?"
With dawning horror, he shouts to a gathering of his comrades. “Guard the doors, someone has been spreading spores in the food supply!”
And word swiftly spreads.
We jump to Gator who just arrived (only slightly late).
A steady beeping intrudes on Gator's sleep. The tempo jumps as sensations of pain and muggy heat leak into his awareness. His eyes flicker open.
To his left, wires connect electrodes to a monitoring device. Fuzzily he tries to focus on what happened. He recalls pleasant days. Days before the killing, when his wife and child were alive.
"What happened?" I ask.
Gator says something violent. They were either taken or killed.
He drifts back under. His bandaged brow furrows as with the memory of distant gunshots. He dreams of things moving in darkness. The distant beeping speeds up. His wife screams. A shot rings out. His daughter, she-
Gator's eyes snap open. Sore muscles spring into action, lifting the muscular man into sitting position. He blinks. A plastic tarp covers the ceiling, lit by a single hanging lightbulb. As the machine continues to beep, he spots shadowy figures outside of the tent.
‘"What?!” one exclaims.
"They put spores in the food," another repeats.
“What are we going to do?” the first whines.
Gator shifts his legs off the bed. His skin screams under the thick bandages. Sliding to the ground, his bare feet find concrete. A mirror mounted on a cabinet reflects a mess of bandages across his face and down under his thin hospital gown.
The mercenary takes stock of his situation. Weathered concrete makes up the back wall, pockmarked with old bullet holes. A couple crates and a small table with medical supplies complete the furnishings. Gator snatches a scalpel off the table and silently pads to the crates.
”Now we are getting somewhere,” he says rearming himself.
Inside he finds scraps of his clothing, blood stained and charred. Beneath that he uncovers his heavy Kevlar armor. Glancing to the entrance, he investigates to the left hand side of the room. Lifting the plastic tarp, he finds another unoccupied hospital bed. He grabs his gear and slips out.
A long beep rings out as the electrodes pull off. Once in the other ‘room’, Gator grabs some other gowns from another grungy cabinet and dresses, placing his armor over several layers of hospital gowns. As the sound of people grows closer, he slips through the opposite side of the tent.
He finds a supply room. Freestanding shelves hold meager supplies of drugs, clothing and medical gear. Gator pulls some scrubs over his armor and covers his face with a mask. Then he slips out into the night.
He rolls Acting under fire and gets a 9.
A concrete ceiling looms overhead extending out to what were once floor to ceiling windows. Inside what was his tent several people talk excitedly. Elsewhere it seems everyone has gone to sleep. As he turns to leave he spots a gun barrel sticking out of a crate near his tent. It could be his sniper rifle.
Offering a hard choice.
He cautiously approaches. He hears people talking inside. “Where did he go? He should be here?”
Gator pulls out the soot covered sniper rifle. He dimly sees his MP5 deeper within as well as plenty of knives. With a quick heft, he picks up the entire boxes and stalks back to the supply room.
I have him roll Acting under fire again. He rolls a 7.
He lurches inside before the others can see him. As he sets down the heavy box, he hears a metallic crunch.
“Oh great,” he mutters. He digs out his weapons one by one checking for damage. After stowing his knives, he puts the guns and the rocket launcher in a net bag from one of the shelves, wrapping them in old scrubs.
Then he quietly walks out into the night.
Then we jump to Jarhead.
Jarhead makes some adjustments to the motorcycle’s engine. He starts as Allison taps him on the shoulder.
“Did you hear?” the young woman asks.
“Hear what?”
“The food supply at the Music Bowl!” she blurts out. “They said it’s all infected with spores. I’m glad we didn’t eat any of those mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms?” he says absently turning back to his work.
“Yeah that’s what they eat around here. It sounded a little better than eating rat but at least with rat you know what you are getting.” She moves to the other side of the bike to face him. “You think it was White?”
”Rat, it’s healthy and nutritious!”
“It is always White,” he says tiredly, “he’s the bogey man.”
“What does White even look like? All I know is his name.”
Jarhead scratches his head. “A guy as far as I know. That’s a good question. We probably should find that out.”
“I guess when Gator wakes up he’s going to have to find out. Isn’t he supposed to kill White or something? No one tells me stuff.”
“It is a need to know basis,” the scrawny man explains. “I don’t need to know and thus you don’t either. More importantly are the night vision goggles finished?”
She smiles and holds them out to him. “Yes, I was just putting the finishing touches on them.”
“Excellent.”
“We got everything done except the recasting,” she informs him.
“That takes more finesse than you’ve got,” he says.
“Need anything more from us tonight? Otherwise I’ll get Waters to bed.”
“Help me lock up the foundry, just in case someone comes looking for rat.”
We return to Violet and David.
As Violet and David stroll around the dimly lit arena, they notice a refugee running to a cluster of people around a campfire.
“Spores! Spores in the food!” he tells them hurriedly. “The priest said there were-”
A scarred woman joins them. “Someone was spreading spores in the mushroom farms!”
“What are we going to eat?” a high pitched voice asks. “We are all going to get the climbers!”
Then she runs off to tell others.
Violet looks to David. “I think we should investigate.”
They approach the growing crowd. “What is going on?” David barks.
“Well I heard it from Yen,” someone stammers. “He said they caught a climber girl trying to spread spores through the subbasement.”
Violet grabs David. “Let’s check it out.”
As they hurry to the nearest door, a man in a bloodstained smock stops them.
“Have you seen Gator?” Krin asks.
“No,” Violet tells him.
“He’s missing,” the technician explains. “His weapons and gear are also missing.”
“If I see him I’ll let you know.”
“Alright, I’ll keep searching.”
Back to November.
As two white robed guards secure the doorway to the subbasement, November continues her questioning of the infected girl. “Where are the other bags?” she asks anticipating more bad news.
“They are with Joey and Trout,” the child answers.
“That’s who,” the dancer corrects her. “Where are they?”
“They were going to go to the other entrances.”
November glances about. There are five entrances to the tunnels beneath the stadium. Five that are known. “I want you to wait here and answer any questions the priests ask of you.”
The girl dumbly nods.
And uses up a hold from Hypnotic.
November moves swiftly to the other doors. She finds a gateway sealed with a barricade of wood and wire and flanked by guards at the east entrance. As she approaches the next pathway, she collides with Violet.
“Ouch! Violet watch where you are going!”
“Very funny,” Violet says regaining her balance. “What’s going on? I heard there was trouble.”
“Well yeah if contamination of the food supply is trouble,” she says quickly. “I heard there are two other intruders working on contaminating the rest. I’m checking that all of the entrances are guarded so we can catch them.” Spying a thicket of robed figures ahead by the ladder down into the tunnels, she continues, “I still need to check the north staircase and the west elevator shaft.”
“I’ll check that the staircase,” Violet offers.
November nods and they split up.
November notes I momentarily had two characters in the same place. For first time for the evening. I need to get better at that.
Back to Gator.
Gator circles the huge round structure. The only stadium he recalls nearby is the Music Bowl. He can’t recall visiting before but it seems very full. Large crowds of people camp outside the ruins. They cast fearful glances east while chattering about the recent advances by White. As he wanders a new topic comes to dominate their nervous talk.
“We came all this way just we could have something to eat and not be zombies,” Gator overhears from a mangy knot of young men. “And now it’s freakin infested with spores!”
“Nah, nah,” a spiky haired man says. “I heard there’s another food supply. There’s this guy who has been collecting rats. He’s set himself up in that little workshop area.”
“We should go and take his rats,” the first man replies. “Then we don’t need to worry about the mushrooms. Plus meat would be tastier. Real meat that isn’t radioactive.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” a third mutters.
“Let’s go get that rat meat,” a pair of others cheer.
Sounds like a good idea, Gator thinks to himself. His stomach grumbles and sloshes. He trails behind them as they enter the Music Bowl.
”Like you’ve been eating through tube for the last two weeks.”
They head into the tunnels beneath the stands. Dirty cinder block walls make up the walls, lit by dying fluorescent lights. The air grows hotter and the sounds of machinery at work overwhelms the babble from outside. The gang comes to a stop in front of a pair of metal doors.
The spiky haired leader pulls at the handles. They open a quarter inch before the chains inside hold them fast.
“Bastards locked themselves in,” the red haired complainer shouts. “I bet they were behind it. They knew this was going to happen.”
The pair bang on the door. Jarhead’s muffled voice calls out, “no business except party business.”
“Let us in,” the leader shouts.
“Uh, no.”
Recognizing the voice, Gator casts his eyes for another way in. He spots a side passage that should bring him close to the area behind the door. Quickly he slips away.
Gator reads a sitch and gets an 8. He marks experience and asks what is the best way through.
Jarhead offers, “It’s a foundry.”
“That’s a really terrible way to get in,” I point out. I then tell him that while the door is solid steel, the walls are not as tough.
“Let’s just break it down,” one of the ruffians suggests.
“If you do not get away from the door, it will go badly for you!” Jarhead warns.
“What are you going to do?” the leader says with a laugh.
Inside Jarhead connects electrical leads to the door and waits. A moment later someone pounds on the door. He immediately hears a cry of pain.
”Suckers!” Jarhead comments.
After some cursing, someone fires a gun at door. The tinkerer smiles as he hears the bullet ricochet down the tunnel.
“I have an idea,” a muffled voice says. Then the gang gets quiet.
Elsewhere Gator slowly and carefully chips away the mortar between several cinder blocks. He gently slides them out of the way and slips inside.
Gator chooses to Act under fire to get inside quietly. He gets an 11.
Jarhead turns back to his work to find the gunlugger calmly leaning on a workbench.
“Gator! How the hell did you get in?” Jarhead says with a start. “You didn’t come down the chimney?”
“You left the back door open,” he says smiling horribly.
“I what?”
“Seems like you have a problem here,” Gator states.
“Seriously how did you get in?” Jarhead looks behind the bandaged man. No clue remains of his entrance. “How?”
“It looks like you might need to get out,” Gator comments.
Jarhead shakes his head. “Well it’s good to see you up on your feet.”
“I’m still feeling a bit sore,” the mercenary admits. “What day is it?”
“It has been about two weeks.”
“That sounds about right.” He sets his weapons on the bench. “I haven’t found my barter yet.”
“That I can’t help you with but here’s a rat,” the tinkerer says handing him a charred piece of rodent on a stick. “Was there something I need to worry about? They seemed like putzes.”
“Nothing right away,” Gator says biting into his rat. “They went to get something.”
Jarhead glances across the large room to his van. Allison yawns and gets up, leaving Memo and Waters to sleep inside.
“In the meantime,” Gator asks, “have you seen Morgana or anybody else around? What happened at the Autodoc?”
“The Autodoc sealed up because of the spores,” Jarhead explains. “It has to cleanse itself.”
“Wasn’t that supposed to open a week ago?” Allison says.
“Yeah, it keeps getting delayed,” he tells Gator. “So we’ve been chilling in the Music Bowl. This is the foundry, this is my space.”
Allison turns to the injured man. “Are you okay Gator?”
“I’ve been better. I’ve been worse, definitely been worse.” He turns back to his rat, picking the meat from the bones. Jarhead offers him another rat. Gator waves him off. “One will be enough for now. Another would just end up on the floor. I’ve done this before.”
Gator picks a scrap of meat from his teeth and tosses the remains in a bin. “So did everybody make out alive? That we care about.”
As Jarhead lists off people who escaped, Allison interjects, “Boo didn’t make it out.”
“That’s too bad,” Gator says.
”Yeah. But shit happens,” Jarhead says.
“Does that mean we have a vehicle open?” the mercenary asks.
“I think Violet gave the keys to his son,” the young woman says.
“Okay.”
The wiry man adds, “Most of us made it out okay. Your mercs have been busy. I haven’t seen them in the past couple days.”
Allison nods. “They went off someplace.”
“Maybe they got a job?” Gator guesses.
Suddenly the roar of an engine reverberates from the entranceway. After an initial growl, it grows louder and louder. Jarhead rushes to the steel doors.
Jump back to November.
A crowd blocks November as she approaches the shaft entrance. She cranes her neck to see four men and women in robes trying to hold back the mob as they shout their concerns. "Is the food safe? What are you going to do?"
November gets atop a ruined counter. "People!" she shouts. "You are not doing any good here. The council is working on the issue. The best we can do for now is take stock of what food we know is clean and let these people do their job.”
After a lot of discussion, I let her roll something like Manipulate a person. I offered acting under fire instead but relented when she threatened to use with Arresting Skinner.
She gets a 12 and marks experience. We decide that the advanced option does not come into play here.
A tall figure in green steps out of the crowd. “Someone should talk the council immediately. They need to respond to this.”
"Go talk to the council," she suggests.
“They’re going to talk to us?” he says. "We are refugees."
"I can talk to them if you like," she offers.
The crowd murmurs and nods. Slowly they disperse.
November approaches the relieved guards. "Did you see any signs that someone entered the tunnels?"
"We arrived just before the crowd," a fair headed priestess explains. She glances down the shaft. "The rope ladder is still up and coiled. I don't think anyone was here before us."
November looks down into the darkness. She reaches out with her mind. Joey, she calls.
November rolls Lost, gets a failure and marks experience.
She feels no connection, no sensation. Only a yawning darkness. Shiver runs up her spine as the maelstrom swirls through her thoughts, picking at her secrets.
Now for three harsh questions. First I ask, "what do you fear most?"
She says oblivion, the collapse of society, and the end of her.
"What would you sacrifice to ensure that never happens?" (I should’ve asked what wouldn’t she sacrifice).
She explains she wouldn't sacrifice innocents.
"Do you think your family wants you back?"
"Yes of course."
And now back to Violet.
Violet arrives at the stairwell to find the rotten wooden door unguarded. Her sharp eyes pick out recent scuff marks on the muddy floor. The distant sound of something falling echoes up from below.
Violet Reads a sitch and gets a 9. She marks experience. "What’s my enemy’s true position?" she asks.
Pulling on her gas mask, Violet pushes the door open. As she descends the shadow stairs, she hears a high pitch voice whimpering. At the base of the stairs she spots a pair of children. One lies face down in the thick soil while the other bends over him shaking his shoulder.
“Joey, joey get up!” the child cries.
Violet shines a light on the prone figure. The dirty haired child looks about ten. His head lies cracked open, a pale stalk sticking out a foot from his ruined skull.
The other child looks up with moist green eyes.“Joey won’t get up,” she cries as her forehead bulges and throbs.
A grimace crosses her face as Violet trains her rifle on the child. With a single shot she dispatches the doomed girl.
“I feel like a terrible person but there’s nothing I can do,” she says.
That's it for now. See you in two weeks.
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