((S'okay, man.))
Steal the skylight! And everything inside the house! Specifically the Floor!
[6] George, with a hobo yell and an impressive display of strength, manages to tear the skylight straight out of the roof! Unfortunately, the added weight sends him toppling though the newly-formed hole, still clutching the thing. Damnit. Santa never has these kinda problems.
[2] His wildly-flailing boots cracking one unsuspecting fellow in the back as he goes, George crashes down on one end of the dining table, splitting it in half with his back.
[Ukulele integrity roll: 1] With a loud, sad-yet-slightly comic sound, George's poor, long-serving ukulele bursts beneath him in a small explosion of wood shards, nylon strings and Aloha.
[Will:6] George, lying there amidst the torn table cloth, the wreckage of the chairs, a groaning fellow hobo and, of course, the bits of ukulele, manages to control his grief at the loss of his companion. Indeed, he bottles it up deep within, becoming more and more distant from the world around him.
Injury gained: Moderate back trauma!
Item broken: Ukulele!
-20 empathy points! "AWW *@!#&. THAT HURT"
Run for the jewelry. And to protect the family jewelry.
Clambering to his feet and yelling expletives at his attacker, Dennis
[4] manages to run, clutching his groin, to the nearest closed door,
[6] charging straight through it and finding himself... At the top of a flight of basement stairs. Oh dear.
[4] He manages to halt his wild momentum just in time. The wooden stairs lead down into darkness. What could be down there? Unimaginable riches, or unthinkable terrors...? Judging by the shouts and crashing noises from behind him, it could hardly be worse than whatever's going on in the living room.
Use TCL as bludgeon and smash one of the windows! Once that is done, use it to clear any shards from the frame so that you can climb through safely, then drop it on the floor just inside so that you don't step on any broken glass. After you've gone inside and avoided the glass, grab my TCL and gather jewellery and valuable trinkets in it!
Showing remarkable clear thinking after that embarassing display, Gom
[1+1] stands up and bashes at the window with his trash can lid, only to discover it has a mesh security screen protecting it! Bugger. He's going to have to try harder.
He grits his sharp, vicious teeth in a silent snarl, draws back the lid in a two-handed grip, and
[3+1] manages to hit the screen with enough force that it decides falling off the window is a prudent course of action!
[3] Gom manages to step back before the screen's counterattack can crush his toes as it crashes noisily to the ground. After that, it's a simple enough matter to get inside using the prescribed method, stepping over the glass and grabbing up his trusty lid before making his way past a glass-sprinkled blue couch over to a nearby table.
[5] Wow! Whoever lives here, one of 'em left their wallet and a pair of trendy-looking sunglasses on the table! Gom loads them into his multi-purpose trash lid.
Looks like there are stairs leading up through a door in one corner of the room, too.
Electrical shock. Damage to synapses...temporary. Probability of consistent energy discharge - high.
Must. Fix.
"MUST. FIX."
Apply Wrench to Circuitbox in a way as to 'hack' it's valuables from it. Or break it away...
Then stow in van.
If possible, charge the entrance then look around for the paintings to...relocate into the van.
((@GSF: Got it 
))
D'nagirb, never much of one for rationality, decides to
attack this evil circuit box! How dare it lay its zappy hands on him?!
[4] Surprisingly, smashing it with a wrench doesn't end quite as badly as one would expect. It even spits a few fuses and bits of wiring out onto the lawn in what D'nagirb interprets as a submissive gesture.
Ha! The damn thing's changed its tune
now! He gathers up his precious handful of bits and wanders back to toss them into the open van, then heads for the front door, handily broken open by that other guy.
[4] He glances around nervily, clutching his wrench, and spots a canvas covered in what looks like acrylic paint regurgitated by a very sick cat, hanging above a television. He grabs it and carefully carries it back towards the entrance, only for a
screaming lunatic to suddenly crash into him! AaugH! Toppling backwards, clutching desperately to the painting,
[television avoidance roll=6] D'nagirb makes an amazing, acrobatic twist to avoid hitting the TV, puncturing the prized canvas over the back of a dining chair instead. Oops. Oh, and then some wild-haired guy falls through the ceiling, punctuating the whole unfortunate even by smashing through the dining table with a bizarre sound like a Hawaiian stringed instrument screaming its last.
Item broken: Abstract painting!"Bluwaaghaprah! Ahahahah!"
Get inside. Look for something worth stealing! Kick anyone who gets in my way. In the nuts or an acceptable substitute. If the kick doesn't work, make with the string-strangling!
[2] Grasasplurt, letting loose a burst of mad laughter, strides through the door and looks around for shinies.
[2] Nothing. Nothing catches his eye. He rummages fruitlessly through the couch cushions for a while, becoming steadily more frustrated, before standing up, shouting
"Erkabwah!" and spinning around to
[3] vs [1] half-kick, half crash into the guy carrying the painting, sending the both of them stumbling in different directions.
[6] Off-balance, heading towards a dining table, Grasasplurt thinks fast and plants his rag-wrapped hands on its pristine tablecloth, kicking his legs up in a fantastic foward flip, somersaulting once through the air before landing, gracefully, on the other side of the table.
Feeling quite proud of himself, he raises his arms and cries,
"Ahbadoongwa! Sna--" Only to be cut off as some guy falls through the roof to land on equal parts him and the table.
[2] Poor Grasasplurt, having no chance to avoid such an unexpected attack, is rendered rather flat, the falling man's legs clipping him in the shoulders and sending him face-planting onto the floor.
Injury gained: Shoulder trauma!
Injury gained: Broken nose!SqueeAch found the lack of soul keys to be very anger inducing. "HUNGRY LITTE SHITBAG??!!" he roars to nobody in particular, and abandoning the search for soul keys opts instead to stuff his face then overcoat full of food.
"I am a restocking on mah vittels yall for yonder expedition."
Stuff face with whatever can be found in terms of food, let mah dawg free and commence cramming surplus into my coat.
Venting his righteous fury towards the celing as he tugged the dog out of his coat, SqueeAch let it drop to the floor before shuffling quickly over to the fridge. "I am a restocking on mah vittels yall for yonder expedition," he says to no-one in particular, voice going abruptly from screaming rage to reasonable explanation.
[4] Ooooh boy, looks like there's a whole chicken in here! Must be what the residents were planning on having for dinner.
Amused by that thought, SqueeAch plunges his arm into the fridge with eyes wide in excitement, tearing a leg off the cold, delicious chicken and cramming it into his mouth, chewing noisily as he reaches back in.
[5] Oh, a tub of yoghurt! That'll do well to wash it down. He plucks the now-bare drumstick bone from his jaws and upends the yoghurt, spilling a fair bit down his front and in his beard as he drains the entire tub before flinging it at a wall.
Good stuff! He shoves the rest of the mangled chicken down his jumper, nestling it into the comfortable warmth left by the dog.
>Get some shots of each room of the house.
[2]Joe has second thoughts about marching right on in there with all the madness going on inside. He remains on the doorstep and settles for a few shaky, zoomed-in glances at each room, and then gives up and just films the van and the worried neighbours approaching the house from about the street.
>Eat. Motherfucking. Everything!
[2+1] The derpy, bug-eyed chiahua hits the kitchen floor in an undignified heap and immediately scrambles over to that pool of spilt spaghetti, lapping madly at it, desperately trying to eat it all before someone
steals it all.
It's... Kinda tiny, though. This could take a while. The slurping sounds it makes are kinda disconcerting, its expressionless eyes staring at almost opposite corners of the room.
[Neighborhood alert roll: 1] All that crashing, screaming in pain and, of course, the silent alarm hidden in the security screens, has pretty much let the cat out of the bag! The neighborhood is coming alive around the house, curtains twitching, confused voices being raised, and a few neighbours stepping out of their doors and beginning the short walk to see what's going on. Oh dear.
Robert starts the engine just incase, keeping a wary eye on those approaching between glances up at the house.
>Four turns remaining before twenty minutes is up! Keep stealing, people!
I actually felt really bad writing the demise of that poor ukulele.
Author
Topic: RtSWYCGYDPPHO (Read 6878 times)