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 runs a a gang of mercenaries and is recovering from being 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. Oh and now she works for the "gods".
- 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 to liberate Miami from a tyrant.
Servant of the Gods: when you ask the gods for advice roll +weird. On a hit they will demand a sacrifice and give you advice. If you act on that advice gain +1 ongoing. On a 10+ mark experience if you commit the sacrifice. On a 7-9, act under fire if you don't commit the sacrifice. On a miss, the gods give cryptic advice. Act under fire if you don't follow it.
Start of Session
We begin with highlighting:- Gator highlights Sharp (from November) and Hard.
- Jarhead gets Hot (also by November) and Weird.
"No she can see them," I tell him as she looks over my shoulder at my cheat sheet.
"I’m all seeing. I’m the Messenger," she adds.
- November highlights Cool (by Jarhead) and Weird.
- Violet gets Cool (by November who knows everyone well) and Hard.
The Lord Humongous Homage
The sun rises over a happy celebration in front of the Autodoc. Garber and Boo hug while the nurses enjoy the fresh air.
“Thank goodness you are okay," Garber says. "I was worried.”
Elsewhere Gator chats with the nurse running things at the moment. The other nurses distract the older woman, causing her to pause with every new entreaty.
"We still don't know where Barnum is," Madame says, picking absently at the denim patches on her hospital scrubs. "Krin, make sure that the plumbing is still working. We don't know how much of that was controlled by the AI."
She turns back to Gator. "You were saying?"
“I asked, how are things rolling along here?“ Gator repeats.
"They are a little bit calmer," she says haltingly.
"That’s good. I’m in the need of some services.“
The white-haired woman looks him over. "You do look pretty bad."
Gator scratches at his burns. "Kinda part of the job. Trying to get you all operating again."
Madame looks his wounds, probing the burns and unwrapping some of his bandages. "It is healing. Slowly. The best thing I could advise is taking some time to rest. We can help with that but it is still going to take time."
"Not sure how much time I got," Gator says, rubbing his chin. He spots Violet looking over the Autodoc's defenses, or lack thereof. He wanders over.
“I think we need to go to the Music Bowl and get the staff back here," Violet tells her allies. "For one thing it will reduce the strain on the food supply.” She turns to November. “Do you want to come too?”
The dancer hefts one of Winona's strange baskets. “I definitely think we should. We can use Winona’s advanced warning devices here in case someone attacks. If we can figure out how to tap into it.”
Violet nods and directs Boo and his son to load up Joshua. The wounded man mumbles, “I’m sorry, so sorry. What happened to Scarlett?”
Violet leans over him. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to save her.”
Joshua closes his eyes. "So sorry. Where's Scarlett?"
"So you're heading out?" Gator asks coming up behind her.
"That’s the plan," Violet says.
The scarred warrior turns to November. "Be careful with that thing."
"It's not active," she assures him as she places it in the truck. "I’m thinking we might be able to use it if Jarhead can activate it."
"OK, but we usually burn that shit." He asks Violet, "when we are going to make our move against White?"
"Our priority is to get the nurses back to the Autodoc first," she tells him.
"Wasn’t Jarhead doing that?"
"He didn’t say anything to me about it," November says. "He isn’t the most strategic."
"He’s busy with his own projects," Violet says. "If we want this place fully functional, we need to get the staff back. That’s our first order of business. Then we’ll see about White. One thing at a time."
"That one thing solves all the other things," Gator says.
"But we are not ready to go up against him yet," November says.
"You’ve got some time," Violet tells him, looking at the badly injured warrior. "Why don’t you take it easy and keep an eye around here for now."
We jump back to Jarhead, the night before, atop the Music Bowl looking at Cougar’s siege.
Jarhead curses as he hobbles back down to the foundry. Outside Cougar’s voice bellows for them to surrender.
The dread locked tinkerer runs into Wisher on a lower level. “Hey there’s a whole army out there!”
“Ah Jarhead good,” Wisher says as Jarhead braces himself on a rusty girder. “I was looking for you. The council want you to do something for them.”
“They want me to fix something now?!”
“No they want you to make something,” the lithe man explains.
“Now!” He replies gesturing wildly.
“Yes, let’s go down to the foundry, the materials should already be delivered.”
“Materials?” the tinkerer says with anticipation. “Oh good! Let’s go.”
A few moments later they find Allison and Waters in the foundry looking at big crate. Several members of the Music Bowl mill about, moving rusty doors and sheets of metal into the workshop. A large truck rumbles outside.
“So you want me to?” Jarhead asks Wisher.
“We need you to put that,” he says pointing to the crate and metal, “into that,” pointing to the truck.
Jarhead strokes his goatee. “Maybe if I crack this open,” says grabbing a crowbar and popping open the crate.
As he rubs his sore shoulder, he takes in the contents. A pair of flags, American and Confederate, cover piles of machine guns, bullets, grenades, and grenade launchers. “So you want me to mount this onto the truck?”
Wisher nods. “All of our best fighters went out to Taters.”
Jarhead sighs. “who is going to be driving that truck?”
“We have got to figure that out still,” the cultist says. “It’s not important if the truck is not ready.”
Violet asks if A.T. is around.
“Not at the Music Bowl.”
Jarhead then asks, “how long will it take to mount this?”
”Depends on your manpower. A couple of weeks with workers you have now.”
“You want this when?” Jarhead says looking the work needed just to mount the weapons.
“As soon as possible.”
“For that out there?” he says point his thumb behind him.
“It’s the best we’ve got. Just get it done as quick as you can.”
“I’m going to need help with the mounting.”
“You’ve got them,” Wisher says gesturing to the other disciples. “Let me know if you need more.”
The tinkerer perks up. “That will do.”
We jump to Gator.
As the yellow SUV drives off, Madame approaches Gator. “Are you planning on staying?”
He nods. “We are going to stick around. We don’t want White retaking you.”
The old woman relaxes her shoulders. “That’s good. I feel a little bit better.”
Gator sighs. “I could use a little bit of rest too.”
“We could hasten your recovery,” she offers, “though it would put you out of the action for a bit.”
He looks off into the ruins. “That may be helpful. Let me give some instructions to my men.”
She nods and he heads off to find Morgana. He finds the plain mercenary chewing some jerky atop an old bakery.
“Hey boss,” she calls down.
“How’s it going?”
“Pretty good,” she says climbing down. “Looks like we’ve got the Autodoc back. We can use our medical bonus again.”
“Yes, looks like we’ll get another after this job.”
She nods approvingly and drops the last couple feet to the ground.
“We keep these people, they keep us happy,” he continues. “Which reminds me, I’m probably going to go under for a few days, to try to get me back to a hundred percent. So I’m talking to you beforehand. Maintain defences, keep a lookout. That sort of thing.“
“We’ll keep an eye out,” she says with a strange slowness.
Gator reads a person. He gets a 12, marks experience and advances. He chooses to advance all of his basic moves and I let him use that benefit immediately.
“Wake me up if the shit gets real,” he says his eyes gauging her. “Is there anything I need to know before I go under?”
“Um no,” she says shuffling her feet. “Well there’s just one thing but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“And what’s that?”
“We did a little job while you were under last time,” she explains looking down. “I think I mentioned it. It all went perfect, nobody got hurt, we got paid. All nice and good. But since we are a bit further north and I think they might come by...you might want to know who the target was.”
“OK,” he grunts.
“The council at the Music Bowl wanted us to grab a weapon shipment from the Militia. They got word they were bringing it in on the train. It was lightly guarded. It was easy pickings but they know the supplies went missing and...they might know we were involved.”
Violet groans. ‘This is going to be lovely.”
“How would they know that?” he asks.
“It’s Road’s fault,” she offers quickly. “I told him to make sure there were no witnesses and the damn fool chickened out and left one of them lying there, only mostly dead.”
“That’s Road’s second screw up,” he mutters.
“Yeah. The guy probably died of blood loss before they found him. But we’ve been trying to keep our heads down in case they found something.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“So we can keep an eye out but if they come by we may need to fade into the background,” she explains her eyes rising to meet his. “They don’t have a beef with the Autodoc so we should be fine.”
Gator nods. “Keep a few people stationed here unless you want to take up space in the other wing. Nobody goes there yet anyway.”
“Didn’t some people go missing in there?” she says. “You know, there’s a church with a nice intact steeple about three blocks that way.”
He shrugs. “Hold up there then. I’ll tell the nurses to get me up if something goes down.”
“Alright.”
“You did a job and that’s okay, just remember who we are doing jobs for and who we are doing jobs against.”
Gator turns to go and stops. Sensing her uneasiness, he decides to test her limits. “You have my back for anything right? Is there anything that would test your loyalty?”
“I was upfront this is all an economic venture,” she says.
“I get that. But if shit gets real?”
“If I run out on you...think about what that does to my reputation,” she says, running a hand through her dirty brown hair. “I guess if the price was right and we weren’t in a firefight I guess I might consider it.”
“What wouldn’t you do for a job?”
“I don’t kill kids,” she says flatly.
“I’m good with that.” He smiles gruesomely. “Alright I’ll be under for a little bit then.”
On to the others.
Boo’s SUV bounces along the ruined streets of Miami. A loud rumble echoes from the ruins, growing closer by the minute. Boo pulls the truck to stop as the others peer out.
November reads a charged sitch and misses.
Violet recognizes that the vehicle rounding the corner isn’t a tank but from its treads and armored bulk she can tell it is some Golden Age military weapon. The monstrous thing grinds down the road trailed by a platoon of Militia. A Confederate flags flutters from the top, where a man in fatigues calls out to them.
November pulls her gun as Boo’s hand slides to the holster by the driver’s seat.
A.T.’s voice booms over a loudspeaker. “Stop your vehicle, we need to talk.”
“I got this Vi,” November says, stepping out of the truck with her shotgun over her shoulder.
The colossus stops about sixty feet away. The gray-haired A.T. emerges from the rear flanked by the looming Mox.
He stops a few feet away. “November, it’s good to see you again.“
“Hey A.T.,” she replies. “Mox.”
As Violet steps out of the SUV, the commander says, “I need to talk to Violet.”
“What’s up?” the survivalist asks walking over.
A.T. gestures behind him. “As you can see most of our supplies finally came in. It seems about time to start liberating parts of this city. I was wondering what you heard about the Big Ship?”
“Well White only has three minions he can really trust. Rue Wakeman, Winona, and Cougar. We killed Rue after the Autodoc incident and I just took out Winona. So we only have one left, his thug and war leader.”
“So I guess you are planning to send an assassin in after this Cougar fellow is taken care of?” he asks.
“That’s the plan,” she says. “Once we’ve taken out the head, we can start working on establishing democracy.”
“That sounds pretty good,” he grins. “I don’t fancy my chances against the Big Ship.” His smile shrinks away. “That still leaves me with one little problem.”
“What is it?”
“You know a bunch of mercs running around here? I think they call themselves the Free Company?” he says eyeing her intently.
“What about them?” she replies calmly.
“It seems that when my supplies came last week, they up and jumped my men. They killed five of them and ran off with the gear.” He leans forward. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen them around?”
“Doesn’t seem like they would stay around after pulling some shit like that,” November says slipping next to him.
“Perhaps.”
“You have proof it was them?” Violet asks, keeping her eyes focused on his.
“I have the word of a man who was there,” he says. “A man I trust, or trusted before he bled out.”
Then we pause for dinner. As I get things ready, Violet and November discuss their options. November offers to use her hold on A.T. to control him.
”The thing about the Free Company is they don’t do something if they aren’t paid to do it. They follow my code,” Gator reminds them.
”What’s your code?” Violet asks.
”Pay him to do something and he’ll do it, even if you change your mind,” November explains.
”Honor the deal,” Gator amends.
”So they were probably paid to do this,” Violet concludes.
”Or by doing this they paid themselves,” November speculates in character.
I return.
I ask her to acting under fire to lie by omission for the next bit. After some discussion about this (people never seem to recognize evading the question is something people can pick up on), we temporize by rolling read a person. She gets a hard hit. “How likely is he to go on a roaring rampage?” she wonders.
Violet sighs and explains, “once we got the nurses at the Music Bowl, we can look into this. One thing at a time. What do you intend to do?”
Question 1.
“They are criminals,” he says roughly. “They need to be punished. It is a time of war. What they did was treason.”
“We’ve got a lot on our hands right now,” she says. “How about we hold off on this until we get the nurses back?”
How could I get AT to hold off on this? is her next question.
If you’ve got some other problem that is more pressing that needs his help.
November slips beside Violet. “You could ask him to help with these citizens,” she whispers. “He is supposed to be protecting them. I think if I asked he would devote his resources to it. And our mission will take us back to the Autodoc.”
I leave to get the rest of dinner.
”How could I get him not to kill any of them?” Violet asks.
November points out she can just manipulating him. It is a broken refrain. November offering help and Violet looking for another route. In the end she relents.
Violet grits her teeth and nods.
November touches A.T.’s arm. “A.T., I totally understand how concerning this is, but we are the middle of a crucial mission ourselves for the safety of the republic. There are a whole bunch of medical staff that were moved to the Music Bowl. We really need to get them back to the Autodoc. We need to get that place up and running so we’ve got that support before we move on White.”
And uses up a hold.
“That’s a good point,” he says, rubbing his chin.
“You and your boys could really help keep them safe.”
“It is a large group.” He nods and turns. “Alright men, we have more important things to deal with.”
As the Militia mobilizes, Violet resolves to find what is going on. I have questions for Gator and his friends.
Back to the Music Bowl.
The occasional gunshot breaks through the din of the foundry. Jarhead's team pays no attention and focuses on mounting armored plates and weapons.
“You really think this would work?" Allison asks.
Jarhead shrugs. "I don’t know but it is kind of fun to find out. All we really need to do keep working long enough and everybody else will be back eventually anyway. That reminds me! The radio!"
Allison follows the dusky tinkerer to the van. “Yeah maybe we should give them a call. If they come back they’ll just run right into them.”
"Here hold this," he says handing her the part he was working on. He tunes the radio and says, "Jarhead here. Anyone out there? Anyone listening?"
"This is White," November says in false baritone, "ha ha ha."
"White doesn’t announce himself like that," I comment.
"This is totally White, you don’t know that. Shut up."
As they bounce along in Boo's SUV, the radio crackles and Jarhead's voice comes through faintly.
"Is it supposed to do that?" November asks. She talks to the radio box. "Hello?"
Garber switches on the transmitter and speaks into the microphone. “Hello?”
”Is this Garber?” Jarhead replies.
"Yes we are heading back," the young man says.
"Glad to hear that. How close are you?"
The tall youth glances ahead. "We are about five minutes out."
"Stop!" Jarhead shouts. "Stop, stop."
Boo slams the brakes and the gang lurches forward.
Violet grabs the microphone. "Okay we are stopped. Why?"
"We are kind of under siege by Cougar," he babbles. "I’m building a tank. He’s demanding our surrender. He’s got a couple of guys with him. No more than 50."
"Okay hang on," she says before stepping out and flagging down A.T.
The armored personnel carrier grinds to a stop. "What’s the problem?" A.T. calls out.
"It sounds like the Music Bowl is surrounded," November says. "Good thing you guys are here."
A.T. climbs down the side of the vehicle. "Cougar's out in the open?"
"Seems like it," Violet says. "This might be a good time to get him."
Violet and A.T. pile into the SUV and she grabs the microphone. "Do you know Cougar's position?"
"Get eyes on him," A.T. barks.
"They are driving in cars," Jarhead replies. "I can probably tell which car he’s in."
"Tell us how they are spread out," November adds.
"Give me some time," Jarhead says. Back at the foundry, he puts down the microphone and finds an idle cultist named Brin. "I need you to find out which car the voice is booming from."
"Don’t we need to work on this?" the man replies.
"This is more pressing now. Go do it," he commands.
"But the council told me to do this," the junior cultist says looking up.
"Didn’t they tell you to listen to me?" Jarhead says. "And what am I telling you to do?"
Jarhead rolls Manipulate a person, he get 9 and marks experience.
Brin nods. “Okay but if I get in trouble I’m telling them you told me to do it.”
"Whatever, just do it," Jarhead says as Brin runs up the stairs to the surface.
We jump to Gator.
Gator watches his gang move to a safe distance. Wire lingers, watching the area from atop a ruined donut shop. The mercenary leader turns to Madame.
“So are you ready to use our services?” she asks.
“Yes,” Gator says.
She smiles and guides him inside. He asks her, “if shit goes down, are you able to get me back up?”
“We can revive you quickly,” she says, pointing to a seat, “but you might be a little off for a few hours.”
“As long as I can be up and moving.” As she nods, he adds, “let’s do it.”
Another nurse jabs his arm with a needle. He feels his eyes growing heavy, his limbs become distant. The pain recedes. He doesn’t reach oblivion though.
Instead Gator’s mind picks through recollections of better times.
A widely spaced picket fence defines where the holding begins and the wilds ends. Within the bounded area the potato and turnip farmers are protected by Jackson and his men. In return they owe a portion of their harvest and their lifelong loyalty.
“Lording over you like a feudal...lord,” I say. “I probably could have come up with a better line.”
”What were you called back then?” I ask.
We decide on Adam after some discussion.
The man who would someday be Gator toils under the hot sun. A posse of men on well fed horses rides up.
Jackson’s horse trots up to him. “Be needing the next tithe of sugar beets in a few days,” the hard holder says. “You are going to be ready with that Adam?”
“Probably,” the young man says wiping his brow. “It’s tough with this blight.”
Jackson looks along the horizon. “Keep hearing about this blight. You make sure you’ve got your tithe in line. Be thankful we don’t got a church. Then you’d have to tithe twice.”
Adam nods. “Yeah we don’t want a church.”
“Good man,” Jackson says sparing him a glance. “I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“But,” Gator interrupts. “We may make it this time. but next time? It’s hard.”
“You just keep working as you can. Keep that wife and kid working hard too.”
He sighs. “I will. Just keep us safe.”
Jackson spurs his horse. “Alright boys, time to talk to the next one.”
As they ride off, the world melts and time slips fluidly to evening. A red sun slides along the horizon as Adam’s family finishes off a beet flavored homeopathic soup.
Gabbi cries, “Mommy I’m so hungry.”
The worn woman tries to comfort the young girl. “It’s okay dear, we’ll put a little bit more of the beet in the soup tomorrow.”
Gabbi turns to Adam. “Daddy, you can tell me a story so I can go to sleep and not think about how hungry I am?”
Adam leads his daughter to bed and says, “Once a upon a time there was a little girl who had all of the food she could eat. There was food on all of the shelves. She was happy."
“Did they have bread?” she asks with wide eyes.
"Yes and things to put on the bread. Before the spots came around." He continues his story and soon his daughter slips into sleep, a line of drool extending from the corner of her mouth.
As he returns to the main room, his wife, Rose, asks, “what are we going to do? The blight has wiped out almost all of our sugar beets.”
"We’ll do the best we can," the tired man says. "I’ll talk to Jackson. We can’t farm if we can’t live. We may have to think about something new."
Rose clutches a ripped shirt. “You know what happened to Gabs and her kids when they couldn't grow enough. Jackson sold them off.”
"We’ll figure something out. Something's got to grow in this godforsaken soil.”
Back to present day.
Brin bursts into the foundry after several minutes. “I went up and looked," he pants. "The voice is still coming from that little bug car. It is parked just across the big road.”
At this point I show them a map for the Music Bowl. A.T. and the others are coming down from the north along the big road, a former highway. Cougar is parked across the big road from the arena. The ground around the Music Bowl is free of structures but contains lots of broken concrete for cover.
Jarhead radios that to the others.
Violet looks up from the device to A.T. “What say we go do a little bit of sniping?”
"Okay," the Militia leader says. "The only problem is we lack the high ground. There’s plenty of places to fire from but everything is pretty level."
We quickly establish A.T. has 30 guys with him.
"What if we take out their tires and then lay down suppression fire?" November suggests.
"Great except they'd be shooting at us while we do that."
Time to use +insight.
Violet turns to Boo. “What are the more strategic locations outside of the Music Bowl?”
The stout man rubs his jaw. "About 30 years ago they leveled most of the area around the arena to make it more fortified. But there’s the sewers. They are mostly collapsed in the city but out here they are still pretty intact. I don’t know if they are passable but that could be a way into the Music Bowl.”
Violet looks off the south where the rim of the arena rises above the ruins. “There are some pretty good sniping positions in there.”
“You could climb up to top and hit anything,” Boo says.
“Why are they not doing that now?” November asks, listening to the sporadic gunfire.
“I don’t know,” the older man says.
Violet quickly gathers the Militia’s best sharpshooters and outlines her plan. “We will sneak inside while the rest of the Militia moves into position. Then when we began firing from above-”
“We will come in and smash them,” A.T. says smacking his first into his hand.
“I’ll hang back to deal with Joshua,” Boo says. “Garber you go with Violet.”
“I’ll go with the main force,” November says.
As the men arm themselves, November steps away to make a quick prayer to the gods as she cleans her many daggers.
November uses her custom move, rolls Weird and fails. She marks experience however.
As she works she feels a growing thirst. She can smell the sweat and the promise of blood in the hot air. A voice whispers in her mind, “Let the warriors meet upon the road.”
Boo meanwhile radios back to Jarhead. “Violet is going to get some men into the Music Bowl, they are going to come up through the sewers.”
“We’ve got sewers?” the tinkerer replies. “I guess that makes sense.”
Jarhead finds Wisher. “Expect company of the helpful kind coming up from the sewers.”
The surprised priest replies, “Okay I’ll let the guards know.”
As Jarhead returns to work on the truck, he spots Memo. “Memo go up top and let me know when the shit goes down,” he says handing her a partial set of binoculars.
Then the inventor reaches out with his mind, seeking how he can best help with the coming danger. The swirling activity around him seems to slow. His mind flashes to the numerous entrances and exits to the Music Bowl. Here, there is one way in and out. Here he can help rebuild after the damage is done. He relaxes a bit and gets to work on the medical equipment.
Jarhead opens his brain and gets a 9. He marks experience.
I ask first, “if Jarhead could extract something physically from Psychic Maelstrom, would he?”
”That’s a very broad question. Yeah I think I would. Like pull something like Hope.”
Violet rolls acting under fire to avoid being seen as she enters the sewers. With her +1 from Insight she succeeds with a 7 and marks experience.
Violet’s team quickly finds a sewer entrance, a collapsed street that opens into a tunnel leading towards the arena. After long minutes of pushing through sludge and removing obstacles, they find themselves beneath a darkened grate.
Violet shines her flashlight up through the grate. A concrete ceiling hangs above, crossed by a faint crack. A noise like distant banging reverberates from far away.
Violet reads a sitch and gets a 8.
”What should I be on the lookout for?”
She pulls herself higher and shines the light closer to the floor above. It pans over a log covered in mushrooms. They are beneath the mushroom farm. The one infected with spores.
“Get your masks on,” she tells the others.
Protected they pop open the grate and pull themselves into the dirt lined chamber. Their lights illuminate several burst spore pods, their contents covering the walls and floors.
”Has no one tried to clean this up?” she asks.
”They’ve been busy.”
Orienting herself, she leads the others to the nearest exit. She knocks on the chained and locked doorway.
“What was that?” a muffled voice cries.
“There shouldn’t be anybody down there,” another voice says.
“Didn’t they say somebody-”
“Hey!” Violet shouts.
“Who is that?” the first voice asks.
“We’re here to help stop the siege.”
“Oh it is them!” the second says. “Let’s get it unlocked.”
“Wait!” the first says. “You are not covered in spores?”
“Something to wash them off wouldn’t hurt,” Violet says.
“Give us a few minutes.”
The riflemen wait in the infested darkness as the guards get ready. Finally they open the doors, revealing two white-robed figures wrestling a long hose while a third pumps madly.
The fourth one shouts orders through a mask. “Stand over there! One at a time!”
I have Violet roll acting under fire (+1 for following her followers’ plan) to avoid contamination. She gets a 12 and marks experience. She has act under fire advanced so everyone is not only decontaminated but she loses her lingering -1 due to her last exposure to the climbers.
The washing goes quickly and the team rapidly clean their guns before heading up to the arena rim.
Elsewhere November tries to read a sitch trying to make use of her perfect instincts. She gets a 6.
We jump back to Gator.
Gator moans in his sleep, his dreams taking a darker turn. Elsewhere the psychic maelstrom rumbles with violence and blood.
”Who was it who shattered your perfect life of misery?” I ask.
”I don’t know. I’m still trying to find out. It happened while I was sleeping.”
Adam wakes to the night he lost everything. He face aches from the beatings. He smells the smoke of the burning fields and the hears the screams of the wounded and dying. The young man stumbles through the gap that was one of his walls.
“Rose!” he cries.
Amid the scattered blazes he hears his wife call back, “Adam!!”
Adam stumbles in that direction as gunfire erupts at the next farmstead over. His wife’s cries grow more distant.
“Gabbi!” he shouts. The acrid smoke of his charred crops bring tears to his bruised eyes.
Gator rolls to read a charged sitch and gets a 7. He marks experience. Who is control here?
Adam scans the blackness, catching glimpses of Jackson and his men as their horses wheel and charge among the invaders. Where his hardholder goes, the raiders break. Right now Jackson moves to defend Adam's rich neighbor to the south.
”If only you had more beets...”
“Over here!!” Adam cries hoarsely.
Jackson’s man, Grekker rides over, pulling his horse to halt beside him. “What is it?”
“They grabbed my wife and my daughter,” Adam says rapidly. “My farm, everything is on fire. You’ve got to help me.”
Grekkor rubs a bloody brow. “I’ve got to help a lot of people. You got more to go on? It’s dark.” Jackson blows his horn. “I’ve got to go.”
“Jackson said he’d keep us safe,” Adam cries.
“Jackson says a lot of things.” Grekkor spurs his horse and disappears into the night.
“No!!”
Adam cuts off his anguished sob as a child’s shriek cuts across the field. He runs through the sparse foliage. A flash and loud bang reach him before he gets halfway. He blinks and rushes for where the shotgun blast came from.
A minute later he bursts through a tangle of vines. A small body lies on the ground. The child’s head took a direct shot, splattering it across the muddy earth.
“No!! Gabbi!!” he screams. He collapses to his knees, grabbing the broken face and skull, gruesomely trying to put the pieces back together as a cold rain falls from above.
”Definitely coming back to this,” I say. “Whoever did this needs to die horribly.”
And we go back to the battle.
Violet surveys the battlefield from her vantage point atop the Music Bowl. A dozen vehicles race around the structure while powerful voice booms from a VW Beetle covered in spikes.
“I demand your surrender,” Cougar intones. “You can’t possibly hold out.”
Violet takes careful aim at the passenger side window. She fires.
I debate even having her roll and decide against it. Blame the earlier misses. Time to use my hard moves.
The windshield stars as blood splatters the inside. As the voice stops, a woman in aluminum armor gets out from the back seat and returns fire. The driver revs the engines.
As the other snipers begin to fire, Violet targets the engine.
Violet rolls seize by force and gets a 9. She marks experience and chooses to take definite hold and dismay her enemy.
The volley of bullets potmark the car which grids a halt after only a few feet. Cougar’s men mount a poorly aimed counter attack. A couple of bullets strike near the sniper’s makeshift crenelations.
Violet and her men deal 2-harm +1 for a gang -1 for the car’s armor. The car stops (definite hold) while those inside take minor damage (1-harm). The return fire is weak: 2-harm -1 for a gang +1 for the part of Cougar’s gang engaged -2 for the Music Bowl’s defenses and their armor.
As cries of pain issue from the bug, the rest of the force masses to intercept A.T.’s men. The Militia’s armored truck tips the balance of numbers however. One car peels off to rescue the occupants of the bug.
Violet chooses to read a sitch. She fails and turns her energy to shooting the approaching car.
November hangs back, letting A.T.’s forces lead the way. With the truck in the lead, a dozen men make their way on foot. Cougar’s men race forward on motorcycles and in rusty cars, firing wildly.
Time for those hard moves.
Then the armored truck rolls over a landmine.
The explosion throws several Militia fighters into the air and sends November sprawling. The truck crashes down, having been thrust a few feet into the air. The dancer glances around as people silently scream around her. She claws her way up as a powerful ringing resounds in her head.
Violet watches the brilliant blast toss the truck like a toy car. A.T.’s forces are thrown in disarray.
A noise cuts through November’s deadened senses. A rapid ch-thunking as the truck’s heavy machine gun fires. Cougar’s troops cheers change to screams as the tracer lit fire slices through them. A motorcycle is blown in half. Two men become broken splatters.
November looks up. In the smoke and haze, Mox stands illuminated by the tracer fire, his hands firmly gripping the machine gun controls. A.T.’s men rally and return fire.
A voice rises above the gunfire and the ringing. “She’s the one he wants, get her,” Cougar booms.
Arms grab hold of November, dragging her from the battle.
November chooses to seize by force and gets an 11. She chooses to take definite hold, deal terrible harm and suffer little harm. She deals 2-harm with her knives +1 for merciless and +1 for terrible -1 for a small gang. She takes 2-harm -1 for little -2 for armor +1 for a small gang.
The dancer pulls her blades, sinking them into the armpits of the two dragging her. She slices up and out, leaving one bleeding to death and the other minus an arm. Four more charge her. She dancers between them, stabbing and slicing. Moments later she stands alone among the dead.
A towering figure looms before her in the smoke. Cougar’s long cloak billows in the hot air, while the titan’s mask gleams with twisted metal and bone.
Violet opens her brain on Cougar, hoping to use it to get a better shot. She gets a 12. Since she uses hard she marks experience.
I first ask her, “do you see yourself more as a defender of civilization or an architect?”
”An architect. Even though I will defend what I build, I’m not a soldier first.”
Violet scans the smoke and fire torn battle field. Her sharp eyes pick out Mox as he grits his teeth and fires the 50 caliber again and again. She scans the soldiers as they fire back and forth. A.T.’s white hair appears nowhere. Towards the back, she spies November lit by the flames with her knives out. Corpses surround her. A shape looms in the smoke beyond.
This is going to be a really hard shot.
The group digresses into how Violet is a kill stealer. As this is often my role when I play, I stay out of it.
Violet shouts to the riflemen to focus on those of White’s forces approaching the Music Bowl or who are trying to intercept A.T.’s forces.
Back on the ground, November approaches Cougar, unbuckling her armor as she goes. As the gunfire mows down those fixated on her disrobing beauty, she reaches the giant. Gently she tugs loose Cougar’s long coat. She unfasten the leather breastplate, revealing Cougar's barely feminine form. Bit by bit the giant’s armor drops to the ground, while Violet watches through the crosshairs.
The smoke curls around Cougar’s scarred torso, her breasts heaving as she watches November’s nimble fingers. “So beautiful,” she says.
“Thank goodness you are okay," Garber says. "I was worried.”
Elsewhere Gator chats with the nurse running things at the moment. The other nurses distract the older woman, causing her to pause with every new entreaty.
"We still don't know where Barnum is," Madame says, picking absently at the denim patches on her hospital scrubs. "Krin, make sure that the plumbing is still working. We don't know how much of that was controlled by the AI."
She turns back to Gator. "You were saying?"
“I asked, how are things rolling along here?“ Gator repeats.
"They are a little bit calmer," she says haltingly.
"That’s good. I’m in the need of some services.“
The white-haired woman looks him over. "You do look pretty bad."
Gator scratches at his burns. "Kinda part of the job. Trying to get you all operating again."
Madame looks his wounds, probing the burns and unwrapping some of his bandages. "It is healing. Slowly. The best thing I could advise is taking some time to rest. We can help with that but it is still going to take time."
"Not sure how much time I got," Gator says, rubbing his chin. He spots Violet looking over the Autodoc's defenses, or lack thereof. He wanders over.
“I think we need to go to the Music Bowl and get the staff back here," Violet tells her allies. "For one thing it will reduce the strain on the food supply.” She turns to November. “Do you want to come too?”
The dancer hefts one of Winona's strange baskets. “I definitely think we should. We can use Winona’s advanced warning devices here in case someone attacks. If we can figure out how to tap into it.”
Violet nods and directs Boo and his son to load up Joshua. The wounded man mumbles, “I’m sorry, so sorry. What happened to Scarlett?”
Violet leans over him. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to save her.”
Joshua closes his eyes. "So sorry. Where's Scarlett?"
"So you're heading out?" Gator asks coming up behind her.
"That’s the plan," Violet says.
The scarred warrior turns to November. "Be careful with that thing."
"It's not active," she assures him as she places it in the truck. "I’m thinking we might be able to use it if Jarhead can activate it."
"OK, but we usually burn that shit." He asks Violet, "when we are going to make our move against White?"
"Our priority is to get the nurses back to the Autodoc first," she tells him.
"Wasn’t Jarhead doing that?"
"He didn’t say anything to me about it," November says. "He isn’t the most strategic."
"He’s busy with his own projects," Violet says. "If we want this place fully functional, we need to get the staff back. That’s our first order of business. Then we’ll see about White. One thing at a time."
"That one thing solves all the other things," Gator says.
"But we are not ready to go up against him yet," November says.
"You’ve got some time," Violet tells him, looking at the badly injured warrior. "Why don’t you take it easy and keep an eye around here for now."
We jump back to Jarhead, the night before, atop the Music Bowl looking at Cougar’s siege.
Jarhead curses as he hobbles back down to the foundry. Outside Cougar’s voice bellows for them to surrender.
The dread locked tinkerer runs into Wisher on a lower level. “Hey there’s a whole army out there!”
“Ah Jarhead good,” Wisher says as Jarhead braces himself on a rusty girder. “I was looking for you. The council want you to do something for them.”
“They want me to fix something now?!”
“No they want you to make something,” the lithe man explains.
“Now!” He replies gesturing wildly.
“Yes, let’s go down to the foundry, the materials should already be delivered.”
“Materials?” the tinkerer says with anticipation. “Oh good! Let’s go.”
A few moments later they find Allison and Waters in the foundry looking at big crate. Several members of the Music Bowl mill about, moving rusty doors and sheets of metal into the workshop. A large truck rumbles outside.
“So you want me to?” Jarhead asks Wisher.
“We need you to put that,” he says pointing to the crate and metal, “into that,” pointing to the truck.
Jarhead strokes his goatee. “Maybe if I crack this open,” says grabbing a crowbar and popping open the crate.
As he rubs his sore shoulder, he takes in the contents. A pair of flags, American and Confederate, cover piles of machine guns, bullets, grenades, and grenade launchers. “So you want me to mount this onto the truck?”
Wisher nods. “All of our best fighters went out to Taters.”
Jarhead sighs. “who is going to be driving that truck?”
“We have got to figure that out still,” the cultist says. “It’s not important if the truck is not ready.”
Violet asks if A.T. is around.
“Not at the Music Bowl.”
Jarhead then asks, “how long will it take to mount this?”
”Depends on your manpower. A couple of weeks with workers you have now.”
“You want this when?” Jarhead says looking the work needed just to mount the weapons.
“As soon as possible.”
“For that out there?” he says point his thumb behind him.
“It’s the best we’ve got. Just get it done as quick as you can.”
“I’m going to need help with the mounting.”
“You’ve got them,” Wisher says gesturing to the other disciples. “Let me know if you need more.”
The tinkerer perks up. “That will do.”
We jump to Gator.
As the yellow SUV drives off, Madame approaches Gator. “Are you planning on staying?”
He nods. “We are going to stick around. We don’t want White retaking you.”
The old woman relaxes her shoulders. “That’s good. I feel a little bit better.”
Gator sighs. “I could use a little bit of rest too.”
“We could hasten your recovery,” she offers, “though it would put you out of the action for a bit.”
He looks off into the ruins. “That may be helpful. Let me give some instructions to my men.”
She nods and he heads off to find Morgana. He finds the plain mercenary chewing some jerky atop an old bakery.
“Hey boss,” she calls down.
“How’s it going?”
“Pretty good,” she says climbing down. “Looks like we’ve got the Autodoc back. We can use our medical bonus again.”
“Yes, looks like we’ll get another after this job.”
She nods approvingly and drops the last couple feet to the ground.
“We keep these people, they keep us happy,” he continues. “Which reminds me, I’m probably going to go under for a few days, to try to get me back to a hundred percent. So I’m talking to you beforehand. Maintain defences, keep a lookout. That sort of thing.“
“We’ll keep an eye out,” she says with a strange slowness.
Gator reads a person. He gets a 12, marks experience and advances. He chooses to advance all of his basic moves and I let him use that benefit immediately.
“Wake me up if the shit gets real,” he says his eyes gauging her. “Is there anything I need to know before I go under?”
“Um no,” she says shuffling her feet. “Well there’s just one thing but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“And what’s that?”
“We did a little job while you were under last time,” she explains looking down. “I think I mentioned it. It all went perfect, nobody got hurt, we got paid. All nice and good. But since we are a bit further north and I think they might come by...you might want to know who the target was.”
“OK,” he grunts.
“The council at the Music Bowl wanted us to grab a weapon shipment from the Militia. They got word they were bringing it in on the train. It was lightly guarded. It was easy pickings but they know the supplies went missing and...they might know we were involved.”
Violet groans. ‘This is going to be lovely.”
“How would they know that?” he asks.
“It’s Road’s fault,” she offers quickly. “I told him to make sure there were no witnesses and the damn fool chickened out and left one of them lying there, only mostly dead.”
“That’s Road’s second screw up,” he mutters.
“Yeah. The guy probably died of blood loss before they found him. But we’ve been trying to keep our heads down in case they found something.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“So we can keep an eye out but if they come by we may need to fade into the background,” she explains her eyes rising to meet his. “They don’t have a beef with the Autodoc so we should be fine.”
Gator nods. “Keep a few people stationed here unless you want to take up space in the other wing. Nobody goes there yet anyway.”
“Didn’t some people go missing in there?” she says. “You know, there’s a church with a nice intact steeple about three blocks that way.”
He shrugs. “Hold up there then. I’ll tell the nurses to get me up if something goes down.”
“Alright.”
“You did a job and that’s okay, just remember who we are doing jobs for and who we are doing jobs against.”
Gator turns to go and stops. Sensing her uneasiness, he decides to test her limits. “You have my back for anything right? Is there anything that would test your loyalty?”
“I was upfront this is all an economic venture,” she says.
“I get that. But if shit gets real?”
“If I run out on you...think about what that does to my reputation,” she says, running a hand through her dirty brown hair. “I guess if the price was right and we weren’t in a firefight I guess I might consider it.”
“What wouldn’t you do for a job?”
“I don’t kill kids,” she says flatly.
“I’m good with that.” He smiles gruesomely. “Alright I’ll be under for a little bit then.”
On to the others.
Boo’s SUV bounces along the ruined streets of Miami. A loud rumble echoes from the ruins, growing closer by the minute. Boo pulls the truck to stop as the others peer out.
November reads a charged sitch and misses.
Violet recognizes that the vehicle rounding the corner isn’t a tank but from its treads and armored bulk she can tell it is some Golden Age military weapon. The monstrous thing grinds down the road trailed by a platoon of Militia. A Confederate flags flutters from the top, where a man in fatigues calls out to them.
November pulls her gun as Boo’s hand slides to the holster by the driver’s seat.
A.T.’s voice booms over a loudspeaker. “Stop your vehicle, we need to talk.”
“I got this Vi,” November says, stepping out of the truck with her shotgun over her shoulder.
The colossus stops about sixty feet away. The gray-haired A.T. emerges from the rear flanked by the looming Mox.
He stops a few feet away. “November, it’s good to see you again.“
“Hey A.T.,” she replies. “Mox.”
As Violet steps out of the SUV, the commander says, “I need to talk to Violet.”
“What’s up?” the survivalist asks walking over.
A.T. gestures behind him. “As you can see most of our supplies finally came in. It seems about time to start liberating parts of this city. I was wondering what you heard about the Big Ship?”
“Well White only has three minions he can really trust. Rue Wakeman, Winona, and Cougar. We killed Rue after the Autodoc incident and I just took out Winona. So we only have one left, his thug and war leader.”
“So I guess you are planning to send an assassin in after this Cougar fellow is taken care of?” he asks.
“That’s the plan,” she says. “Once we’ve taken out the head, we can start working on establishing democracy.”
“That sounds pretty good,” he grins. “I don’t fancy my chances against the Big Ship.” His smile shrinks away. “That still leaves me with one little problem.”
“What is it?”
“You know a bunch of mercs running around here? I think they call themselves the Free Company?” he says eyeing her intently.
“What about them?” she replies calmly.
“It seems that when my supplies came last week, they up and jumped my men. They killed five of them and ran off with the gear.” He leans forward. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen them around?”
“Doesn’t seem like they would stay around after pulling some shit like that,” November says slipping next to him.
“Perhaps.”
“You have proof it was them?” Violet asks, keeping her eyes focused on his.
“I have the word of a man who was there,” he says. “A man I trust, or trusted before he bled out.”
Then we pause for dinner. As I get things ready, Violet and November discuss their options. November offers to use her hold on A.T. to control him.
”The thing about the Free Company is they don’t do something if they aren’t paid to do it. They follow my code,” Gator reminds them.
”What’s your code?” Violet asks.
”Pay him to do something and he’ll do it, even if you change your mind,” November explains.
”Honor the deal,” Gator amends.
”So they were probably paid to do this,” Violet concludes.
”Or by doing this they paid themselves,” November speculates in character.
I return.
I ask her to acting under fire to lie by omission for the next bit. After some discussion about this (people never seem to recognize evading the question is something people can pick up on), we temporize by rolling read a person. She gets a hard hit. “How likely is he to go on a roaring rampage?” she wonders.
Violet sighs and explains, “once we got the nurses at the Music Bowl, we can look into this. One thing at a time. What do you intend to do?”
Question 1.
“They are criminals,” he says roughly. “They need to be punished. It is a time of war. What they did was treason.”
“We’ve got a lot on our hands right now,” she says. “How about we hold off on this until we get the nurses back?”
How could I get AT to hold off on this? is her next question.
If you’ve got some other problem that is more pressing that needs his help.
November slips beside Violet. “You could ask him to help with these citizens,” she whispers. “He is supposed to be protecting them. I think if I asked he would devote his resources to it. And our mission will take us back to the Autodoc.”
I leave to get the rest of dinner.
”How could I get him not to kill any of them?” Violet asks.
November points out she can just manipulating him. It is a broken refrain. November offering help and Violet looking for another route. In the end she relents.
Violet grits her teeth and nods.
November touches A.T.’s arm. “A.T., I totally understand how concerning this is, but we are the middle of a crucial mission ourselves for the safety of the republic. There are a whole bunch of medical staff that were moved to the Music Bowl. We really need to get them back to the Autodoc. We need to get that place up and running so we’ve got that support before we move on White.”
And uses up a hold.
“That’s a good point,” he says, rubbing his chin.
“You and your boys could really help keep them safe.”
“It is a large group.” He nods and turns. “Alright men, we have more important things to deal with.”
As the Militia mobilizes, Violet resolves to find what is going on. I have questions for Gator and his friends.
Back to the Music Bowl.
The occasional gunshot breaks through the din of the foundry. Jarhead's team pays no attention and focuses on mounting armored plates and weapons.
“You really think this would work?" Allison asks.
Jarhead shrugs. "I don’t know but it is kind of fun to find out. All we really need to do keep working long enough and everybody else will be back eventually anyway. That reminds me! The radio!"
Allison follows the dusky tinkerer to the van. “Yeah maybe we should give them a call. If they come back they’ll just run right into them.”
"Here hold this," he says handing her the part he was working on. He tunes the radio and says, "Jarhead here. Anyone out there? Anyone listening?"
"This is White," November says in false baritone, "ha ha ha."
"White doesn’t announce himself like that," I comment.
"This is totally White, you don’t know that. Shut up."
As they bounce along in Boo's SUV, the radio crackles and Jarhead's voice comes through faintly.
"Is it supposed to do that?" November asks. She talks to the radio box. "Hello?"
Garber switches on the transmitter and speaks into the microphone. “Hello?”
”Is this Garber?” Jarhead replies.
"Yes we are heading back," the young man says.
"Glad to hear that. How close are you?"
The tall youth glances ahead. "We are about five minutes out."
"Stop!" Jarhead shouts. "Stop, stop."
Boo slams the brakes and the gang lurches forward.
Violet grabs the microphone. "Okay we are stopped. Why?"
"We are kind of under siege by Cougar," he babbles. "I’m building a tank. He’s demanding our surrender. He’s got a couple of guys with him. No more than 50."
"Okay hang on," she says before stepping out and flagging down A.T.
The armored personnel carrier grinds to a stop. "What’s the problem?" A.T. calls out.
"It sounds like the Music Bowl is surrounded," November says. "Good thing you guys are here."
A.T. climbs down the side of the vehicle. "Cougar's out in the open?"
"Seems like it," Violet says. "This might be a good time to get him."
Violet and A.T. pile into the SUV and she grabs the microphone. "Do you know Cougar's position?"
"Get eyes on him," A.T. barks.
"They are driving in cars," Jarhead replies. "I can probably tell which car he’s in."
"Tell us how they are spread out," November adds.
"Give me some time," Jarhead says. Back at the foundry, he puts down the microphone and finds an idle cultist named Brin. "I need you to find out which car the voice is booming from."
"Don’t we need to work on this?" the man replies.
"This is more pressing now. Go do it," he commands.
"But the council told me to do this," the junior cultist says looking up.
"Didn’t they tell you to listen to me?" Jarhead says. "And what am I telling you to do?"
Jarhead rolls Manipulate a person, he get 9 and marks experience.
Brin nods. “Okay but if I get in trouble I’m telling them you told me to do it.”
"Whatever, just do it," Jarhead says as Brin runs up the stairs to the surface.
We jump to Gator.
Gator watches his gang move to a safe distance. Wire lingers, watching the area from atop a ruined donut shop. The mercenary leader turns to Madame.
“So are you ready to use our services?” she asks.
“Yes,” Gator says.
She smiles and guides him inside. He asks her, “if shit goes down, are you able to get me back up?”
“We can revive you quickly,” she says, pointing to a seat, “but you might be a little off for a few hours.”
“As long as I can be up and moving.” As she nods, he adds, “let’s do it.”
Another nurse jabs his arm with a needle. He feels his eyes growing heavy, his limbs become distant. The pain recedes. He doesn’t reach oblivion though.
Instead Gator’s mind picks through recollections of better times.
A widely spaced picket fence defines where the holding begins and the wilds ends. Within the bounded area the potato and turnip farmers are protected by Jackson and his men. In return they owe a portion of their harvest and their lifelong loyalty.
“Lording over you like a feudal...lord,” I say. “I probably could have come up with a better line.”
”What were you called back then?” I ask.
We decide on Adam after some discussion.
The man who would someday be Gator toils under the hot sun. A posse of men on well fed horses rides up.
Jackson’s horse trots up to him. “Be needing the next tithe of sugar beets in a few days,” the hard holder says. “You are going to be ready with that Adam?”
“Probably,” the young man says wiping his brow. “It’s tough with this blight.”
Jackson looks along the horizon. “Keep hearing about this blight. You make sure you’ve got your tithe in line. Be thankful we don’t got a church. Then you’d have to tithe twice.”
Adam nods. “Yeah we don’t want a church.”
“Good man,” Jackson says sparing him a glance. “I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“But,” Gator interrupts. “We may make it this time. but next time? It’s hard.”
“You just keep working as you can. Keep that wife and kid working hard too.”
He sighs. “I will. Just keep us safe.”
Jackson spurs his horse. “Alright boys, time to talk to the next one.”
As they ride off, the world melts and time slips fluidly to evening. A red sun slides along the horizon as Adam’s family finishes off a beet flavored homeopathic soup.
Gabbi cries, “Mommy I’m so hungry.”
The worn woman tries to comfort the young girl. “It’s okay dear, we’ll put a little bit more of the beet in the soup tomorrow.”
Gabbi turns to Adam. “Daddy, you can tell me a story so I can go to sleep and not think about how hungry I am?”
Adam leads his daughter to bed and says, “Once a upon a time there was a little girl who had all of the food she could eat. There was food on all of the shelves. She was happy."
“Did they have bread?” she asks with wide eyes.
"Yes and things to put on the bread. Before the spots came around." He continues his story and soon his daughter slips into sleep, a line of drool extending from the corner of her mouth.
As he returns to the main room, his wife, Rose, asks, “what are we going to do? The blight has wiped out almost all of our sugar beets.”
"We’ll do the best we can," the tired man says. "I’ll talk to Jackson. We can’t farm if we can’t live. We may have to think about something new."
Rose clutches a ripped shirt. “You know what happened to Gabs and her kids when they couldn't grow enough. Jackson sold them off.”
"We’ll figure something out. Something's got to grow in this godforsaken soil.”
Back to present day.
Brin bursts into the foundry after several minutes. “I went up and looked," he pants. "The voice is still coming from that little bug car. It is parked just across the big road.”
At this point I show them a map for the Music Bowl. A.T. and the others are coming down from the north along the big road, a former highway. Cougar is parked across the big road from the arena. The ground around the Music Bowl is free of structures but contains lots of broken concrete for cover.
Jarhead radios that to the others.
Violet looks up from the device to A.T. “What say we go do a little bit of sniping?”
"Okay," the Militia leader says. "The only problem is we lack the high ground. There’s plenty of places to fire from but everything is pretty level."
We quickly establish A.T. has 30 guys with him.
"What if we take out their tires and then lay down suppression fire?" November suggests.
"Great except they'd be shooting at us while we do that."
Time to use +insight.
Violet turns to Boo. “What are the more strategic locations outside of the Music Bowl?”
The stout man rubs his jaw. "About 30 years ago they leveled most of the area around the arena to make it more fortified. But there’s the sewers. They are mostly collapsed in the city but out here they are still pretty intact. I don’t know if they are passable but that could be a way into the Music Bowl.”
Violet looks off the south where the rim of the arena rises above the ruins. “There are some pretty good sniping positions in there.”
“You could climb up to top and hit anything,” Boo says.
“Why are they not doing that now?” November asks, listening to the sporadic gunfire.
“I don’t know,” the older man says.
Violet quickly gathers the Militia’s best sharpshooters and outlines her plan. “We will sneak inside while the rest of the Militia moves into position. Then when we began firing from above-”
“We will come in and smash them,” A.T. says smacking his first into his hand.
“I’ll hang back to deal with Joshua,” Boo says. “Garber you go with Violet.”
“I’ll go with the main force,” November says.
As the men arm themselves, November steps away to make a quick prayer to the gods as she cleans her many daggers.
As she works she feels a growing thirst. She can smell the sweat and the promise of blood in the hot air. A voice whispers in her mind, “Let the warriors meet upon the road.”
Boo meanwhile radios back to Jarhead. “Violet is going to get some men into the Music Bowl, they are going to come up through the sewers.”
“We’ve got sewers?” the tinkerer replies. “I guess that makes sense.”
Jarhead finds Wisher. “Expect company of the helpful kind coming up from the sewers.”
The surprised priest replies, “Okay I’ll let the guards know.”
As Jarhead returns to work on the truck, he spots Memo. “Memo go up top and let me know when the shit goes down,” he says handing her a partial set of binoculars.
Then the inventor reaches out with his mind, seeking how he can best help with the coming danger. The swirling activity around him seems to slow. His mind flashes to the numerous entrances and exits to the Music Bowl. Here, there is one way in and out. Here he can help rebuild after the damage is done. He relaxes a bit and gets to work on the medical equipment.
Jarhead opens his brain and gets a 9. He marks experience.
I ask first, “if Jarhead could extract something physically from Psychic Maelstrom, would he?”
”That’s a very broad question. Yeah I think I would. Like pull something like Hope.”
Violet rolls acting under fire to avoid being seen as she enters the sewers. With her +1 from Insight she succeeds with a 7 and marks experience.
Violet’s team quickly finds a sewer entrance, a collapsed street that opens into a tunnel leading towards the arena. After long minutes of pushing through sludge and removing obstacles, they find themselves beneath a darkened grate.
Violet shines her flashlight up through the grate. A concrete ceiling hangs above, crossed by a faint crack. A noise like distant banging reverberates from far away.
Violet reads a sitch and gets a 8.
”What should I be on the lookout for?”
She pulls herself higher and shines the light closer to the floor above. It pans over a log covered in mushrooms. They are beneath the mushroom farm. The one infected with spores.
“Get your masks on,” she tells the others.
Protected they pop open the grate and pull themselves into the dirt lined chamber. Their lights illuminate several burst spore pods, their contents covering the walls and floors.
”Has no one tried to clean this up?” she asks.
”They’ve been busy.”
Orienting herself, she leads the others to the nearest exit. She knocks on the chained and locked doorway.
“What was that?” a muffled voice cries.
“There shouldn’t be anybody down there,” another voice says.
“Didn’t they say somebody-”
“Hey!” Violet shouts.
“Who is that?” the first voice asks.
“We’re here to help stop the siege.”
“Oh it is them!” the second says. “Let’s get it unlocked.”
“Wait!” the first says. “You are not covered in spores?”
“Something to wash them off wouldn’t hurt,” Violet says.
“Give us a few minutes.”
The riflemen wait in the infested darkness as the guards get ready. Finally they open the doors, revealing two white-robed figures wrestling a long hose while a third pumps madly.
The fourth one shouts orders through a mask. “Stand over there! One at a time!”
I have Violet roll acting under fire (+1 for following her followers’ plan) to avoid contamination. She gets a 12 and marks experience. She has act under fire advanced so everyone is not only decontaminated but she loses her lingering -1 due to her last exposure to the climbers.
The washing goes quickly and the team rapidly clean their guns before heading up to the arena rim.
Elsewhere November tries to read a sitch trying to make use of her perfect instincts. She gets a 6.
We jump back to Gator.
Gator moans in his sleep, his dreams taking a darker turn. Elsewhere the psychic maelstrom rumbles with violence and blood.
”Who was it who shattered your perfect life of misery?” I ask.
”I don’t know. I’m still trying to find out. It happened while I was sleeping.”
Adam wakes to the night he lost everything. He face aches from the beatings. He smells the smoke of the burning fields and the hears the screams of the wounded and dying. The young man stumbles through the gap that was one of his walls.
“Rose!” he cries.
Amid the scattered blazes he hears his wife call back, “Adam!!”
Adam stumbles in that direction as gunfire erupts at the next farmstead over. His wife’s cries grow more distant.
“Gabbi!” he shouts. The acrid smoke of his charred crops bring tears to his bruised eyes.
Gator rolls to read a charged sitch and gets a 7. He marks experience. Who is control here?
Adam scans the blackness, catching glimpses of Jackson and his men as their horses wheel and charge among the invaders. Where his hardholder goes, the raiders break. Right now Jackson moves to defend Adam's rich neighbor to the south.
”If only you had more beets...”
“Over here!!” Adam cries hoarsely.
Jackson’s man, Grekker rides over, pulling his horse to halt beside him. “What is it?”
“They grabbed my wife and my daughter,” Adam says rapidly. “My farm, everything is on fire. You’ve got to help me.”
Grekkor rubs a bloody brow. “I’ve got to help a lot of people. You got more to go on? It’s dark.” Jackson blows his horn. “I’ve got to go.”
“Jackson said he’d keep us safe,” Adam cries.
“Jackson says a lot of things.” Grekkor spurs his horse and disappears into the night.
“No!!”
Adam cuts off his anguished sob as a child’s shriek cuts across the field. He runs through the sparse foliage. A flash and loud bang reach him before he gets halfway. He blinks and rushes for where the shotgun blast came from.
A minute later he bursts through a tangle of vines. A small body lies on the ground. The child’s head took a direct shot, splattering it across the muddy earth.
“No!! Gabbi!!” he screams. He collapses to his knees, grabbing the broken face and skull, gruesomely trying to put the pieces back together as a cold rain falls from above.
”Definitely coming back to this,” I say. “Whoever did this needs to die horribly.”
And we go back to the battle.
Violet surveys the battlefield from her vantage point atop the Music Bowl. A dozen vehicles race around the structure while powerful voice booms from a VW Beetle covered in spikes.
“I demand your surrender,” Cougar intones. “You can’t possibly hold out.”
Violet takes careful aim at the passenger side window. She fires.
I debate even having her roll and decide against it. Blame the earlier misses. Time to use my hard moves.
The windshield stars as blood splatters the inside. As the voice stops, a woman in aluminum armor gets out from the back seat and returns fire. The driver revs the engines.
As the other snipers begin to fire, Violet targets the engine.
Violet rolls seize by force and gets a 9. She marks experience and chooses to take definite hold and dismay her enemy.
The volley of bullets potmark the car which grids a halt after only a few feet. Cougar’s men mount a poorly aimed counter attack. A couple of bullets strike near the sniper’s makeshift crenelations.
Violet and her men deal 2-harm +1 for a gang -1 for the car’s armor. The car stops (definite hold) while those inside take minor damage (1-harm). The return fire is weak: 2-harm -1 for a gang +1 for the part of Cougar’s gang engaged -2 for the Music Bowl’s defenses and their armor.
As cries of pain issue from the bug, the rest of the force masses to intercept A.T.’s men. The Militia’s armored truck tips the balance of numbers however. One car peels off to rescue the occupants of the bug.
Violet chooses to read a sitch. She fails and turns her energy to shooting the approaching car.
November hangs back, letting A.T.’s forces lead the way. With the truck in the lead, a dozen men make their way on foot. Cougar’s men race forward on motorcycles and in rusty cars, firing wildly.
Time for those hard moves.
Then the armored truck rolls over a landmine.
The explosion throws several Militia fighters into the air and sends November sprawling. The truck crashes down, having been thrust a few feet into the air. The dancer glances around as people silently scream around her. She claws her way up as a powerful ringing resounds in her head.
Violet watches the brilliant blast toss the truck like a toy car. A.T.’s forces are thrown in disarray.
A noise cuts through November’s deadened senses. A rapid ch-thunking as the truck’s heavy machine gun fires. Cougar’s troops cheers change to screams as the tracer lit fire slices through them. A motorcycle is blown in half. Two men become broken splatters.
November looks up. In the smoke and haze, Mox stands illuminated by the tracer fire, his hands firmly gripping the machine gun controls. A.T.’s men rally and return fire.
A voice rises above the gunfire and the ringing. “She’s the one he wants, get her,” Cougar booms.
Arms grab hold of November, dragging her from the battle.
November chooses to seize by force and gets an 11. She chooses to take definite hold, deal terrible harm and suffer little harm. She deals 2-harm with her knives +1 for merciless and +1 for terrible -1 for a small gang. She takes 2-harm -1 for little -2 for armor +1 for a small gang.
The dancer pulls her blades, sinking them into the armpits of the two dragging her. She slices up and out, leaving one bleeding to death and the other minus an arm. Four more charge her. She dancers between them, stabbing and slicing. Moments later she stands alone among the dead.
A towering figure looms before her in the smoke. Cougar’s long cloak billows in the hot air, while the titan’s mask gleams with twisted metal and bone.
Violet opens her brain on Cougar, hoping to use it to get a better shot. She gets a 12. Since she uses hard she marks experience.
I first ask her, “do you see yourself more as a defender of civilization or an architect?”
”An architect. Even though I will defend what I build, I’m not a soldier first.”
Violet scans the smoke and fire torn battle field. Her sharp eyes pick out Mox as he grits his teeth and fires the 50 caliber again and again. She scans the soldiers as they fire back and forth. A.T.’s white hair appears nowhere. Towards the back, she spies November lit by the flames with her knives out. Corpses surround her. A shape looms in the smoke beyond.
This is going to be a really hard shot.
The group digresses into how Violet is a kill stealer. As this is often my role when I play, I stay out of it.
Violet shouts to the riflemen to focus on those of White’s forces approaching the Music Bowl or who are trying to intercept A.T.’s forces.
Back on the ground, November approaches Cougar, unbuckling her armor as she goes. As the gunfire mows down those fixated on her disrobing beauty, she reaches the giant. Gently she tugs loose Cougar’s long coat. She unfasten the leather breastplate, revealing Cougar's barely feminine form. Bit by bit the giant’s armor drops to the ground, while Violet watches through the crosshairs.
The smoke curls around Cougar’s scarred torso, her breasts heaving as she watches November’s nimble fingers. “So beautiful,” she says.
November decides to roll Hypnotic after arguing she is effectively alone and has plenty of time. She gets a 10.
“Thank you,” November tells her. “Tell your men to drop all of their weapons.”
Cougar’s expressionless mask rises to survey the battlefield. “Surrender! Lay down your weapons!”
”Awe man...okay,” Violet says as the rest of the group laughs.
Back to Gator.
Gator’s breathing slows. In his dreams the night gives way to a rainy morning.
Adam kneels in the mud, his hands caked in blood and gore. Grekker rides up, his horse snorting as it trods upon the rusty earth. The warrior cradles a bleeding arm.
“Adam. Adam there’s nothing you can do for her,” he says quietly.
“I have to fix her,” Adam says, numb fingers moving one red bone into place . “I’m suppose to keep her safe.”
“Look we all suffered in this raid.”
“I fucking lost everything,” the farmer says his face bent to the earth.
“Still got your beets,” Grekkor offers weakly. “Look there’s nothing you can do about it. They rode off to the east. Damn bikers.”
Adam gets up and walks back to his house. Rain drips down as he crosses the field. In a clearing he finds something waiting for him. A pool surrounds a dead raider, face down in the mud. Adam pulls a knife from his frozen hand, blind to the sword tattoo on his shoulder.
We’ve seen that tattoo before...
Distantly, he hears Jackson talking to his neighbor. “Well at least we were able to save the crops. They won’t be coming back here again. Not after the licking we gave them.”
Quietly Adam stumbles to his hut. He waits. He stares at the knife. The rains gradually stop and the sun peeks through the clouds. Slowly it descends. Jackson comes by just as it sets.
“This place is a mess,” the hardholder says.
“You promised,” Adam whispers.
Jackson’s eyes focus on the fields. “They did a real bang up job here. Going to have to replant the whole thing.”
“They took my family, everybody,” he says louder.
“Yeah, you are not going to have enough labor to do that,” Jackson says stroking his chin.
As Jackson contemplates what to do, Adam rises to his feet. He steps forward and sinks the knife into him.
Jackson gags and stares at him in disbelief.
“You promised!” Adam says. “You broke your deal.”
Adam thrusts the blade in down to the hilt.
“You’re just. A serf,” Jackson chokes before collapsing into the mud.
Adam walks east.
Back to the real world.
As evening falls, the Music Bowl tends to the wounded and enjoys their victory. November stands apart. Suddenly she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
Wary of the gods, she retreats to a quieter place.
“We require a sacrifice,” the voices demand.
“I gave you six,” she whispers.
“Yes but their blood was diluted by the fighting,” a voice whines. “We need you to perform a ritual. To bleed the victim purposely for the gods.”
“That sounds like murder.”
“Call it what you will,” a bitter whisper replies. “You do this for us and we will give you what you want.”
I am greatly trimming down on November’s snarkiness here.
“No.”
“This one will be a threat to you if you let her live. The Giant.”
November tenses her body. "She may yet die by my own hand but not now.”
“We will remember that,” the voices whisper angrily.
“Thank you,” November tells her. “Tell your men to drop all of their weapons.”
Cougar’s expressionless mask rises to survey the battlefield. “Surrender! Lay down your weapons!”
”Awe man...okay,” Violet says as the rest of the group laughs.
Back to Gator.
Gator’s breathing slows. In his dreams the night gives way to a rainy morning.
Adam kneels in the mud, his hands caked in blood and gore. Grekker rides up, his horse snorting as it trods upon the rusty earth. The warrior cradles a bleeding arm.
“Adam. Adam there’s nothing you can do for her,” he says quietly.
“I have to fix her,” Adam says, numb fingers moving one red bone into place . “I’m suppose to keep her safe.”
“Look we all suffered in this raid.”
“I fucking lost everything,” the farmer says his face bent to the earth.
“Still got your beets,” Grekkor offers weakly. “Look there’s nothing you can do about it. They rode off to the east. Damn bikers.”
Adam gets up and walks back to his house. Rain drips down as he crosses the field. In a clearing he finds something waiting for him. A pool surrounds a dead raider, face down in the mud. Adam pulls a knife from his frozen hand, blind to the sword tattoo on his shoulder.
We’ve seen that tattoo before...
Distantly, he hears Jackson talking to his neighbor. “Well at least we were able to save the crops. They won’t be coming back here again. Not after the licking we gave them.”
Quietly Adam stumbles to his hut. He waits. He stares at the knife. The rains gradually stop and the sun peeks through the clouds. Slowly it descends. Jackson comes by just as it sets.
“This place is a mess,” the hardholder says.
“You promised,” Adam whispers.
Jackson’s eyes focus on the fields. “They did a real bang up job here. Going to have to replant the whole thing.”
“They took my family, everybody,” he says louder.
“Yeah, you are not going to have enough labor to do that,” Jackson says stroking his chin.
As Jackson contemplates what to do, Adam rises to his feet. He steps forward and sinks the knife into him.
Jackson gags and stares at him in disbelief.
“You promised!” Adam says. “You broke your deal.”
Adam thrusts the blade in down to the hilt.
“You’re just. A serf,” Jackson chokes before collapsing into the mud.
Adam walks east.
Back to the real world.
As evening falls, the Music Bowl tends to the wounded and enjoys their victory. November stands apart. Suddenly she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
Wary of the gods, she retreats to a quieter place.
“We require a sacrifice,” the voices demand.
“I gave you six,” she whispers.
“Yes but their blood was diluted by the fighting,” a voice whines. “We need you to perform a ritual. To bleed the victim purposely for the gods.”
“That sounds like murder.”
“Call it what you will,” a bitter whisper replies. “You do this for us and we will give you what you want.”
I am greatly trimming down on November’s snarkiness here.
“No.”
“This one will be a threat to you if you let her live. The Giant.”
November tenses her body. "She may yet die by my own hand but not now.”
“We will remember that,” the voices whisper angrily.
End of Session
Finally we reach raising Hx:- Jarhead gives +1Hx to Violet since he only really interacted with her.
- November gives +1Hx to Violet.
- Gator gives -1Hx to November as his backstory differs substantially from what she expected.
- Violet gives +1Hx to November since she trusts her more. But just wait until next session...
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