Where is my action...? ;___;
((Apologies! I've no idea how I forgot that, I had the result rolled up and thought out already... well, to compensate, your next action may be really extensive or well prepared.))
"Oh god, oh god, oh god, vampire bats!"
I cast my Beardining spell at the nearest vampire bat!
Sinless mumbles and casts Beardening instead, a specialty and trade secret of the Wizardly Wizardry! The bat spontaneously sprouts an imposing beard, amplifying its vampiric spellcraft! What has man science magic wrought?
They dare shoot at me? FIRE THE LAZY CRICKET!
Joe Bridger takes aim. His weapon has changed adjectives about three times today already, but heavy still applies.
The shot hits. The trenched canadiosi scatter in panic and moroseness. That's what an approaching freighttrain and a high-powered rifle do to you.
Joe on the other hand makes a somersault backwards. If he was standing or lying or kneeling doesn't even matter. The Cricket never discriminates.
CANADIAN MAFIOSI COUNTER: 9
AIRBORN WIZARDS TALLY: 2
Summon bath ballista.
Dirk hoped to circumvent the laws of god and man and magic and also physics (that keep magic from affecting guns) by creating a ballista. Alas, he was wrong. Alas, his knowledge of the consequences and implications of his actions had been feeble. Oh, how you mighty fall! Oh, how you downtrodden perish!
It is with a stiffled sob Dirk puts his deagle to the crooked bow of the poor little porcellain... thing... and pulls the trigger. Two times, and a third time for decency's sake. It is done. Shards cover the ground.
That is the moment Megaton tears the train to shreds and the car with the toilet losses any contact to the rails and sails through the air in a steep arc.
AIRBORN WIZARDS TALLY: 3
> in frustration and shortsightedness I charm an ICBM to our current location, then tries to fly away on the recoil of my guns.
Okay, this one calls for prose of the purple persuasion.
The lack of nuclear holocaust and the othwewise unpleasant atmosphere around made Megaton groan, the kind of small, breathless noise that can only stem from a cybernetic superarmed hard radiation wizard with a theoretical beard caressing every atom in a radius of multiple galaxies with its soft, undefined quantum state. A noise like rust and sorrow arose from his arms as he pointed both of his experimental prototype killing tools downwards and emptied them into the marred face of Mother Earth, slicing not only the train, the tracks and most of the enbankment in twain under a torrent of shredding searing hot lead alloy, but also soaring high into the sky, increasing his distance from the unloved world with every minuscle act of violence against it... in total, 32 000 acts of violence per second. The noise alone could make eyes bleed and ears catch fire.
He soared, and he roared, and maybe he boared a little, and then, high in the air, high on a steady stream of death, more a fusion weapon than a human now and his rapport strong, he cried out, for his distant allies, he called for his friends, he remembered them of the old oaths and the pleasure of flight and the moment the world becomes a firey wink in the eye of a dying child. And over a hidden launch bunker not very far away, a nuclear friend answers with a pained roar as it climbs deceptively slow into the evening sky.
"I didn't even get to touch the red button" a general pouts.
Megaton though, his guns and his tongue spend, passed the zenith of his path and began the downwards-orientated personal development known as plummeting.
AIRBORN WIZARDS TALLY: 4
MINUTES TILL NUCLEAR ANNIHILATION: <5
Open fire. Sperrfeuer!
The mafia canadians in the cars are many. Norwollis is not. They are high on maple vodka. He, presumably, is not.
But he is a wizard with a gun and he has the chaingun from Doom 1 and his Sperrfeuer-fu is strong today. And when his gun starts singing and the bullets start ringing... they have to scream at each other over the death and the metal and coil up and drop their guns and jump from their burning cars that suddenly are very keen on ramming each other. Norwollis powers kick in all on their own at this moment, the first hard riffs of an awe-inspiring rock song bludgeoning the air-
CANADIAN MAFIOSI COUNTER: 6
-when Megaton saws through the train and the train hits the trench and Norwollis doesn't even stagger, he just straight up dances through the air like a freed ballon. For a while.
AIRBORN WIZARDS TALLY: 5
Stamp the filthy bat with my fine armored boot. In brutal way.
Gretust stomps that stupid stinker. For bonus brutality he bashes its burning brainpan against the bleak baveme- er, pavement. He does keep it stunned and busy, and the fire should do the rest any moment, but suddenly all kinds of vampiric natural weapons dig into his back and drag him upwards with a brutal yank.
Feels like a running gag.
AIRBORN WIZARDS TALLY: 6
'Pixy Dust' jetpack go!
AIRBORN WIZARDS TALLY: still 6!
All kinds of technicolor unicorns and rainbows burst out of the back of Keith's coat, carrying him forwards with a noise like twinkle giggle and gnome farts. He rubs a little of the dust into his gums, just because he can. The bat is close behind, but looses some ground as it tries to follow his abrupt change of direction.
Will there be an achievement if we get 8 airborn wizards? Who knows? Does anybody remember how many vampire bats are left without looking? And what's happening inside the banquet hall? And who even cares now that World War 3 is under way?
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Topic: [FREE FOR ALL RPG] Wizards with Guns 0: Gun Wizards (Read 10761 times)