[AW] Battle of the Chateau

edited November 2010 in In-Game
So Fleece is camped out in his bit of the mansion, and there's barricades in the fucking corridors, dividing up our territory. He's got snipers in his windows, so crossing the grounds is kinda dicey and I can't do much about it ... that's why we boarded up the fucking windows in the first place, so we wouldn't have to worry about snipers in the grounds in event of a siege.

So there hasn't been much blood, which I guess is good. I think Kirk and I would win this if it got down to brass tacks, but we'd probably cripple the Riders in the doing. There was some skirmishing in the first six or seven hours, as everyone got bunkered in, but now everyone knows everyone else's sight lines and we're pretty much staying low and trying to figure shit out.

I'm set up in the stables. It's a solid, stone building, and it's connected up to the undercroft, so I don't have to run through a sniper's field of fire to get up to the mansion.

Uncle, the battle, if you want to call it that, up until this point has been mostly random pot shots taken by either side. Clearly, no one has tried anything major. However, you get the sense that Fleece is getting claustrophobic in the east wing and pretty soon he's going to start fighting. The question is, who's going to make the first strike, which could turn the tide.

It's been nearly 36 hours, locked in this stalemate. After your meeting with Fleece several days ago, attempts at communication have been futile at best.

Something needs to be done.

Right now, you've set up a tactical operations center in the stables, which seems fairly safe for now. However, reports from the 'front line' indicate that there's been a few shots fired down in the undercroft and possible wounded. Things are heating up. And, Kirk tells you that one of them in the skirmish reports back seeing containers of what he thinks is gasoline being placed close to the entrance on their side. Are they going to try and blow the undercroft?

Kirk also tells you that a sniper reports that he's spotted Fleece, but didn't have a chance to take a shot. However, he's getting his men into formation.

Fleece's true position? He's in the main hall of the east wing, preparing for a full-on firefight.

And, that's about when Navarre arrives at the stables. He's decked out in his full battle rattle, armor and weapons. And, he looks like a million bucks compared to what he did a couple days ago after the hot air balloon shootout. Kirk's men allow him in and he's approaching you.

Shall we use the battle countdown clock?


  • Navarre's armor is bits of salvaged Kevlar and some intact ceramic plates, all sewn into a rather form-fitting leather bodysuit, but cut to allow for a lot of freedom of movement. It winds up being pretty flattering, not that Uncle would notice, but Ruby's in there somewhere.

    As I approach Uncle, I keep my eyes on the ground, all deferential. "Sorry, sir, I know you told me I needed to get at least another day's rest, but I kept on hearing about all the shit that was going on, and, well, I remembered to wear my armor! I figured I'd be more use to you here than I would in bed." My body language, though, says, "Please don't send me back to bed. But if that's what you want, I'll go without complaint."
  • Where's Pamming? And did Fleece actually say anything in that meeting, or did he just get shirty and try to ambush me or something?

    Navarre's eyes are all downcast, so maybe he doesn't see me rolling my eyes.

    "... Alright, yeah. I guess I can use you. Stand there for a minute."
  • I was going to ask you the same thing. Where is Pamming?

    Before you could really get down to actually discussing anything, Gettys started running his mouth, shit got heated with Gettys drawing his weapon, you fired on Gettys and that about concluded the meeting as they ran away.

    Sound about right?
  • Ok. I don't really know if a battle clock is necessary - I suppose you can decide. I'm not a Hard Uncle today (and, besides, I'd rather not kill half my own men), so I'm going to at least attempt to get through on the radio to Fleece's side. I shot his, like, cousin or whatever but perhaps I can offer medical attention, yeah?

    However, I think I'm sending Fido down to secure the undercroft for me, and there'll be some men going in with him. So there'll be some battle-ish stuff going on ... nothing that couldn't be handled with conventional moves, but we could use the battle moves/clock as well.

    Kirk would be in the mansion, I suppose. If I want to attempt a full offensive, I'll move there too ... right now, I'm in the stables for a little peace, and so I can keep an eye on Pamming without putting her too blatantly in harm's way.

    So Pamming, she's kind of 'over there'. The smithy/machine shop is pretty much one big space, with the walls of the original stables pulled out and the floor divided up by the tools and workbenches. Pamming is by one of the workbenches, close enough that I can watch her. She's got, y'know ... a chair. More a stool, really. And a book? She brought a book. Which she's not reading.

    I dash off a scribbled order on a scrap of stationary, and I wave it at Navarre.

    "We've got some skirmishing down in the undercroft. It may even be that the scabs are trying to collapse the place, for some mad reason. Chat's squad is working down there. Hook up with them and clear out the rats, on my orders."

    "Now, these rats are still Riders, so try not to kill too many of them. Drive 'em back, take prisoners, that kind of thing, where you can. Still, our lives are more valuable than their lives. If it comes down to it, just shoot 'em."
  • Sounds good. We'll hold off on battle clocks until shit breaks out big time (if it breaks out big time).

    What are you doing in response to Uncle's orders, Navarre?
  • "Yes, sir. Work with Chat, clear everyone out of the undercroft. Take prisoners if possible, kill them only if necessary. Got it."

    I try not to show how happy I am that he didn't just send me back to bed. I take the orders, head out to find Chat. He's having a cigarette outside the undercroft. Apparently they're just keeping an eye on things right now, and it's Chat's turn for a break. I bring him the paper that Uncle gave me. He's a solid guy, not that imaginative, but reliable and keeps his head. I'm pretty sure I outrank him, but I'm not in his chain of command, and his men will be a lot happier following him than following me, and I'm not in this for glory.

    "Uncle says we're supposed to clear out the undercroft. Take prisoners if we can, kill only if we need to. You want to lead it?"
  • Tum Tum's gone with his squad, so that just leaves me with Chat and this other squad over in the mansion with Kirk. Regal's squad, that one ... Kirk's heavies. It's an overstrength squad of ten, maybe eleven, and normally they'd be packing heavier weaponry. That's still kinda true, but we only have so many rounds in that caliber, so they're mostly packing the same arms as the rest of us, this time around.

    So, two squads, myself, Kirk, Exit, Princy, Navarre, plus if Kirk has anyone recruited into specialist roles, outside of any squad. If it weren't for Navarre, I'd say we were outnumbered. Of course, add in the odd bit of extra staff (Crutch, Rice, Daff, and Wisher, for instance). There's a handful of the Riders who aren't really the rough bastards the rest of us are ... maybe you wouldn't want to fuck over any of 'em, but they're mainly noncombatant.

    Princy's here, but up in the loft Daff and Wisher divvy up for living space - he's asleep, since he was up all night, taking reports. We've got cots up there. I'm kind of pissed that this happened right after my cottage got it's face blown off, incidentally. Daff and Wisher themselves are off on the other side of the building, talking in low voices over a workbench, their conversation regularly punctuated by the whine and grind of their machining tools.

    So I need to try to get on the horn, see what the hell is going through Fleece's fool head. I've even got the headset on, and I'm listening to the empty hiss of the hailing channel.

    But damn, that girl is bothering me. What's going on with her? Spector didn't mention anything, I don't think. He'd've said if she was looking suicidal, right? Is it me? Am I that hated? Well, what the hell. I toss down the headset and bear down on Pamming, dragging up a chair and sitting squarely, leaning forward:

    "Look. Pamming? What's wrong? Tell me, and I'll do something about it."

    Maybe being direct will work.
  • Crude as it is, I think that has the components of a manipulate attempt. And if 'whatever the fuck you want' isn't good enough leverage ... *sigh*. Women. Teenagers.

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )

    And xp (5), for ... some advance. Give me a bit.

    I'll also read her, because why not?

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • No hold spend yet, though.
  • Navarre, you're here now.
  • Pamming is sitting Indian-style with the book in her lap. She's thumbing through it, like she's trying to find 'her spot', but it's obviously she's not looking very hard. When you pull up the chair, she looks up at you. She brushes her hair back behind her ear with her right hand.

    "I just want all this fighting to end. It's making my stomach hurt thinking about it."

    She pauses, and then thinks on that statement noticeably for a moment.

    "I saw Spector kill a young girl the other day. It was an accident. I know he was trying to do the right thing. But..."

    You can see tears beginning to form in the crease between her eye the skin.

    "She was just so young, yah know? Why should kids have to deal with this shit? They should have to worry about playing and learning. Not dying."

    She takes in a deep breath. And, when she exhales, she nearly shouts but it's muffled somewhat by her cries.

    "Can't you just stop all this bloodshed somehow?"
  • edited November 2010
    I'm aghast. Well, really no - this is maybe a shade unrealistic of her, but nobody wants to live like this. That's really why I settled here and carved out a domain ... to find a life that's at least a little less vicious and marginal. I succeeded, for the most part, but I suppose that wasn't saying much. I had been, at that point, living a life even more vicious and marginal than most.

    I need to figure out what angle to take with this girl, though, so as embarrassing as it is to phrase it like this, I think what I want here is

    Q1: What can I do to get her to calm down and think, "hey, the old guy is actually kind of cool"? Or something along those lines. This may have some overlap with 'what does she want me to do?', but I think I already have a broad grasp of the answer to that.
  • You're eyeballing that book, thinking maybe if you could connect with her in that way, like talk about something beautiful, artistic and get her mind off of the dire situation at hand, that'd probably get her to see you in a different light than the Rough Rider she's heard rumors about and seen for herself.

    That might help her calm down, and maybe see where you're coming from. Of course, she's still going to want you to opt for a peaceful resolution to all this if she can.
  • [ I guess I'll spend that advance on +1cool, for a nice even +2 +2 +2 +2 -2 stat line. It doesn't really seem like the moment to spend an advance on getting -unruly. ]

    Right. Connect with her about ... artistic ... stuff. Nothing's really coming to mind but those tattered old paperbacks Connie used to read to the kids, and I never had much patience for that Regency crap. God, I guess there was still some of it back in the old days, before I joined the army, while the world hadn't quite yet finished going mad. But that's going on thirty, forty years ago now, and too easily forgot.

    Ah, screw it. I'll just treat her like an adult. I'm pretty sure she's fucking Spector, as disturbing as that is to me, so why not? I lean back, feeling a bit of a story coming on.

    "Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. I, uh ... well, you wouldn't know it to look at the place, I guess. That's kind of why I settled here, though. Years ago, we were all on the road, me and the guys what were with me back then. Rice, and ... well, shit. I guess the rest of them are all gone, here and there. We're sleeping under our bikes, stealing and fighting just to feed ourselves, livin' a bad old life."

    "But there's this girl I have, right? And I'm thinking I want, y'know. More. Settle down, maybe start a family, and give my kids some of what I had growing up. Used to be, well, the world was falling down round our ears, but we still had homes, safe places, medicine, right? Order, is what I mean. I wanted my family, kids like you, to have that."

    "The problem is, there's plenty more bastards like me out there. If you want order in this world, you have to carve it out with your own hands ... take it, and hold it. You need to be strong, and have one or two dangerous bastards for every one of theirs. That's [I wave a hand at the little HQ I've set up here] not perfect, but I guess it's about the best I can do. We've had some good runs. Years at a time, here and there."

    "So, that Fleece. He doesn't know what a hard life is. He thinks he does, but he hasn't lived it. He's been protected since the day he was born ... never had to scrape and scrap just for the necessities."

    Of course, this also applies to Pamming. And, hell, most the people within a mile radius of me right now.

    "I haven't had a chance to talk to him properly, but I guess this is some kind of power play. He thinks he's a tough enough bastard that he deserves to run the show here. God knows what he expects he'd do with that, if he won - I doubt he's thought it through that far."

    "Well, give him a few more years, maybe get him a woman, and maybe then he'll start to understand what power is for. He's being an idiot, but he doesn't deserve to die for it. And going in and shooting up half my own men just to get at him doesn't read like a win, in any case. I'll have to talk him down, if I can. Or scare him into giving up."

    "I don't know. Spector's not around. What do you figure I oughta do here?"
  • Pamming seems to brighten at the story. She seems genuinely fucking interested. It's like she's one of your kids, when they were little yah know? And, you'd tell them stories or whatever. They'd be looking up at you, all bright-eyed and shit. That's her. Right now. It's enough to make your heart sink when you realize you've missed out on pretty much this whole girl's life.

    "I think you should tell Fleece what you just told me."

    And, then, Pamming breaks eye contact with you. She looks up and past you! Her eyes go wide in horror!

    "Look out!"

    You spin around and Gritch is there. Where'd he come from?! Like a ghost, he's just there. Everyone is shocked.

    And, he's got his antique pistol pointed right at your head, Uncle.


    Wait. What?

    Let's backtrack.

    Gritch, you're there. Yeah. You can see through your eyes. You can feel your heartbeat. You can feel your lungs urging your brain for a smoke. But, you can't do anything. And, you're heading back into the Chateau. No. Stop! You can't. Dog Head. You opened your brain, and it must've let Dog Head take over. You sense him in your brain, urging your body forward. You feel the cold steel of the antique pistol in his grip, no your grip. No, his.

    It's a clusterfuck in the Chateau. Everyone is charged and primed for a firefight. But, Dog Head, no you, you're just walking through.

    You approach one of the Rough Riders.

    "Hey, I need to talk to Lars."

    They look at you suspiciously, but allow you to pass. Toward the machine shop.

    When you get there, everyone is busy. No one even notices you come in through the side door.

    Lars is there. He's got his back to you. He's pulled up a chair and he's talking to Pamming.

    You hear Dog Head think. What the fuck?! You hear Dog Head think.

    Payback, motherfucker.

    You walk up, and Pamming sees you start aiming the pistol.


    You're not aiming at Lars.

    It's Pamming.

    Dog Head's gonna kill Pamming.


    Uncle, let's see an act under fire roll.
  • Are you just aching to give me experience, here?

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • edited November 2010
    Uncle, you realize Gritch is aiming at Pamming. But, you also notice something else kind of strange: his eyes look dead and filled with white.

    What do you do?
  • This is Gritch's revolver, right? That's not too high a caliber, and he only has so many bullets.

    I don't really have a gun in hand, so the best I can do is just to lurch up out of the chair and get in the way - take it with my jacket if I can. There'll probably be some seizing and some force, later, but under the assumption that he's pulling the trigger right now, and I need to do something about it, I guess I'll act under fire?

    I'm moving into him with my shoulder leading, between him and the girl, my leading arm thrown up to cover my face. In any case, I'm hoping to get too close for him to really shift aim to my head or whatever, but let's see.

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )

    And that's been xp (1) and xp (2).
  • edited November 2010
    You do it. Both you and Gritch go tumbling to the ground and the pistol, Gritch releases it from his grasp and it spins off under the truck that Wisher was working on earlier. You don't necessarily have him pinned, but you're both sort of tangled with each other. The Rough Riders in the immediate area come running over to help you.

    Then, you hear the crackle of the radio. It's Fleece.

    "Lemme talk to Uncle."

    Gritch, you feel Dog Head's tidal wave of emotion as he's once again engaged with his enemy. This might be a good time to take back control of your body. What do you want to do?
  • Can I read the sitch, figure out what my best course of action is? I'm kinda wondering (a) if I can threaten him with my psychic moves and do harm to him directly, or (b) if I can threaten myself (my body) with my psychic moves, saying "LET GO OF THE WHEEL OR WE BOTH CRASH" kind of thing. If I can read the sitch, then...

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )

    (Highlighted for 2)
  • So, assuming this is all okay:

    Which enemy is most vulnerable to me (where I'm sort of interpreting my own body to be an enemy at this point, so Dog Head himself, or my body)?

    What's my enemy's true position?

    Where's my best way in (to my own body)?
  • Hey, I didn't get shot! Intermittent rewards!

    In that case, I'm going to try to get on top of him, pin him down, maybe get an elbow or something slammed into his throat or temple. To get his attention, like. He's wearing that environmental suit, though, and I can feel the armor under the plastic, so I doubt I'm going to do much damage just working with just my hands. So focusing on just wrestling him around and pinning him down.

    Do you reckon I could read him, or the situation at this point? It does seem kind of frantic, so my guess is that I'd leave that until I've got more of a handle on things, but if he's dazed, or shouting invective at himself or something ...
  • Absolutely. Which questions?
  • Let's see what Gritch does and then we'll determine what you need to do to pin him. If Gritch is fighting for control of his body, Dog Head is going to be distracted and you won't even need to roll to pin him.
  • edited November 2010

    Yes, Dog Head is currently most vulnerable to you. He's distracted and doesn't have as firm a grasp on your body at the moment.

    Dog Head's true position is that he's possessed your body and he's using it to fuck things up for you.

    Your best way in is using the psychic maelstrom to help you seize control of your body.

    What do you wanna do?
  • ( Goddamn it. I forgot my dog again. If that happens again, she's just dead. Uh, she's probably around here somewhere, sleeping under one of the benches. Maybe not sleeping anymore, but she's really damn old - she's not likely to be leaping to my assistance or anything. Her name's Molly. )
  • I keep forgetting that dog too. Molly.
  • Well I was kinda hoping for some information that I didn't have before on those questions, but then, I can use those answers nicely for that little +1. So!

    Direct-brain whisper projection? Going aggro on Dog Head to get him to leave my body?

    I'm consumed by rage, an' I let myself boil in a river down straight back into my brain. I let Dog Head feel the heat, an' I hope he burns.

    Get the fuck outta my head, motherfucker. Like hell are you ever going to hurt someone else using my body.

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+4 )

    (Highlighted for 3)
  • edited November 2010
    Wow. Lots of good rolls around here.

    Gritch, you regain control of your body, and it ain't fun. Uncle has his elbow in your throat, pinning you down to the ground and Wisher has a shotgun barrel pressed to your temple. She'd have already blown your brains out if Uncle hadn't subdued you.

    Uncle, do you want to read Gritch at this point?
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