[AW] War Room Activities

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  • Gritch is a badass.
  • All that's fine. And as for armor, I mean, I'd absolutely love to say that Gritch scurried back home, put on his armored suit, and then came back. But...somehow that feels like cheating, so, nope.

    Harm roll: #DiceRoller( 2d6+4 )
  • I can't just let the fucker die, I need my answers. My feet carry me out the door and acrosst he dirt, an' my teeth are gritted as I reach down an grab the fucker's face with my gloved hand. I don' have time to do things nicelike, an' I got no doubt in my mind that I shred Seville's brain a bit as I force my way in. Probably, if he'da lived, he wouldn'ta been able to talk so good anymore, or somethin' like it. But it don' matter, anymore.

    Questions: (again, I'd really love for one of these questions to have to do with the actual answers Gritch is seeking...but, because I don't think it'll matter much anymore how exactly he's vulnerable...)
    What was Seville's lowest moment?
    For what does Seville crave forgiveness, and of whom?
    What are Seville's secret pains?

    I didn' have time to feel or experience the things I stole from him. I just slotted 'em away in the back o' my head, an' started runnin'. Thought maybe I could make it back to the buildin', dive through the window an' hide afore he blew.

    No such luck, though.

    The blast took me unawares. I thought I'd have more time, an' I didn' even realize for a moment what'd happened when the ground suddenly wasn't beneath my feet, an' I was sailin' through the air. The world flashed by, faster 'n ever, faster even 'n when I go in a trance, an' soon enough, an' for a momen' that extended too long in my head, everythin' was okay, just nice, as I sailed.

    An' then I hit the front wall o' Uncle's house. Or more accurately, went through the front wall o' Uncle's house.

    Didn't really notice much past then, o'course, what with pain overcomin' my entire world. I didn' have no arms, no legs, no torso anymore. I just had pain.

    (So, that puts me up to 11 o'clock harm, I believe. I'm tempted to take disfigured as a debility, just to totally screw Gritch in the looks department, because then I would always just take Unnatural Lust Transfixion and still seduce people like it's nobody's business, but I'm not sure I want to, so for the moment, I'm gonna say no debilities.)
  • The explosion is devastating. And, loud. Spector, Uncle, the explosion rocks every fiber of your body. The vibrations from the shockwave tear at your muscles and chatter your teeth. You feel like they'll fall out. And, heat, it's like being shoved into an oven, a massive furnace. The air comes blasting into the cottage through the open windows, knocking everything off the walls, shifting the cottage's framework and causing a part of the roof to collapse on you Spector. It doesn't harm you outside of the dull ache in your back where the ceiling joists made contact. Bits and pieces of flesh, bone and organs come with the fire. They're flying everywhere, painting the walls. Uncle, there's a portion of Seville's head lying near your feet.

    Your ears. God, this hasn't been a pleasant day for hearing. Both of your ears are fucking busted. Everything sounds like you're underwater. Everyone for as far as you can see must have heard that blast.

    And, then Gritch. What the fuck was he thinking. He comes flying along with the rest of everything else in that explosion into the cottage, right through the wall. He's on fucking fire. And, he has a huge piece of bone sticking out of his leg.

    Gritch, you're alive. But, you don't even notice the bone sticking from your leg. You're in shock. But, you're awake somehow. There's fire burning your clothing to your flesh. It ain't pretty.

    Seville is gone. Or, rather, he's everywhere. Bits and pieces of him are scattered throughout the cottage and front lawn.

    Marlene, you hear the explosion come and go. The blast hurts your ears, but you're fairly ok.

    What do you guys do?
  • edited November 2010
    Going to make a new thread for Seville's answers since you're out of commission. When you start to wake up, the first thing you'll remember is the answers. :) Keep everyone in suspense until then.
  • I take longer than Gritch'd like making sure my back aint broke but I'm up in a few seconds -- I think that's how long it took and trying to pat the flames on Gritch out. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but he looks like he might be alive.
  • edited November 2010
  • I gesture at my ears and shake my head.
  • edited November 2010
    Speak of the devil.

    As you say that, Marlene, you see Crutch stepping through the wreckage of the cottage remains.

    "My lord... What happened here?"

    He looks frazzled, eyes red and one of 'em swollen and bruised like he just got thumped in the face.
  • "What does your character intend to do?"

    Also, I expect he'll become violent toward me in the very near future, so that should clear things up.
  • edited November 2010
    Gritch is moaning, delirious and passes out (mini coma).

    Crutch scans the scene before him. You can tell he's dumbstruck.

    "I uh, came here to give Uncle my report..."

    He trails off. You can tell by the way he's rubbing his head in despair that he intends to give Uncle some bad news, but doesn't want to now. He's also eyeballing Spector, like he clearly recognized him and his face is certainly not filled with delight. But you don't sense any immediate violent actions from him.
  • I look up and notice Crutch -- not having heard him come in through the rubble. Talking a bit too loud, but looking like I'm really glad to see him: "Hey, Gritch needs your help! I don't really know what to do, but if I can help you, put me to work!"
  • Crutch throws up his hands in exasperation. He's fucking getting nervous.

    "Uncle, I'm not equipped to handle these kinds of injuries and even if I was..."

    He's thinking it over in his head.

    "Well, the thing is, we're out. We're out of medical supplies. Now, I don't know what your priorities are here, but we've got a very sick man in my bunker that could ... "

    His voice gets quiet. He doesn't want anyone but Uncle to hear, but you all do.

    "He could be carrying a highly contagious disease. The only reason I haven't burned him up is his body may contain an antidote. Now, I've got two seriously injured patients here, this fella and Fido down in the dungeon. We may have to let them go and hopefully find and use whatever medical supplies for containing this disease," Crutch turns and points to Spector. "That he brought here."
  • I've been listening carefully. And it helps that Crutch has to speak loudly so that Lars can hear him. I look at them and nod acceptance of Crutch's accusation. "I did. He was already in our immediate environment, so it may not matter, but it's true -- I maybe also increased the speed."
  • edited November 2010
  • Crutch doesn't look pleased.

    "I may be able to stabilize him, but that's a big 'maybe' - stabilizing is one thing, treatment is another thing altogether. How am I supposed to get him to my place?"

    Crutch is wearing some worn dress slacks and a vest with no undershirt at this point. His lanky arms lead down to the tiny pockets in his vest where he's tucked his hands. His hair is an oily mess. He keeps this broken stethoscope dangling around his neck.

    "As far as the sickness... yes and no. Never seen nuthin' like it before, but I think the symptoms may include ... violent tendencies. There've been two murders by those who've been exposed. And, Fido did this to me," he points to his face.

    "I suggest we quarantine that fella," he points to Spector, "and, his woman. Fido should be fine staying in the dungeon. Tum Tum and her," he nods at Marlene, "might need to be too. Actually..."

    He breathes deep. Then shrugs.

    "Actually, maybe you should send them to find this hospital. It'd keep them away from the rest of the hold, and I don't have a good feeling about Imam showing up with more supplies. 'Specially with the news that Milltown isn't sending us any food this month."

    Crutch walks over and kneels down beside Gritch.

    "He's not going to live for much longer."

    Then, he looks up at you, Uncle.
  • I shrug at Crutch's report and head outside to check out the blast-crater. I want to set down at the center of it and look around for Seville's soul.
  • A cough, a wheeze, a hack, an' the world comes rushin' back in at me, in colors far too bright an' in pain far too pronounced. Awareness, an the onrush o' Seville's memories, o' the shattered fragments o' Seville's mind as got lodged in my brain, make a cry escape from my lips, though I don' really hear it from where I'm lost in the visions. When all's said an' done, I'm all too aware o' what I just foun' out.

    There's some part o' me that's well aware I'm probably goin' die, an' it's screamin' bloody murder. But I long ago learned not to listen to that; doesn't do no good. Instead, as another batch o' coughs wracks my body, an' my crinkled, burnt skin feels like it's all on fire again, I do my best to reach out to the cold, an' let it come into me. It's all I can do, really, all I have open t'me in this situation...an' as I do, I suddenly remember that trick I pulled with Navarre, remember it deep down in the core o' me where I don' even know what I know. An' there's that black whirlwind, 'cept now it's sucking in, into me, an' I can hear an' see the spookies screamin' as they get pulled from the air, pulled down into me, an' I don' care, because they're already dead an' I'm not.

    (So, this is the Healing Touch roll, so it's also Weird and highlighted for 3 experience total towards my next advance.)

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • Spector, are you opening your brain there?
  • Gritch, you heal 1 segment (and you're stabilized), but you are acting under fire from your own brain. Let's see the roll.
  • Yes, that's what I'm doing. #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • Acting under fire:

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+1 )
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