impale the dead weasel on my bone shank.
Stab wasted bastard with my weaselkebab as he runs past and leave it stuck in him to cook.
You stab down at the weasel, shouting "Ha HA!" as you do.
You miss. You miss a dead weasel laying, unmoving, on the ground.
You curl up into a ball and cry for your lack of skill.
Put myself out, repeat previous action.
You ignore the fact that you are on fire. You are on fire sir, on fire. This is a bad thing. But you ignore it.
You attempt to, and I quote,
Light all the bottles on fire.
You attempt to light the bottle on fire. To place the lighter under the glass bottle and light the bottle itself on fire. It doesn't do anything beyond provide fodder for a selectively literal asshole to mess with you.
((Nice. I haven't seen that, but I know the reference ))
Find a support pillar among the bleachers and climb it up to the roof. Once safely out of reach, realize I'm actually on fire and pat myself out. Bite and punch anyone who gets in my way.
Name: Wasted Bastard
Description: A guy who's so thin that his bones show, and his hips form a bowl in which stuff can be held. His stringy greasy hair is falling out in chunks, but reaches down to his lowest rib. His eyes bulge out like nothing you've ever seen, and dart this way and that without end. He's coated in a blue crystalline powder, probably from rolling in some drugs like a cat with catnip.
Reason for signing up: Out of money for drugs and food and rent, so need, like, 20 bucks to make it this month.
Stats:
Strength: 1 (wish this could be 0 for the auto fail)
Dexterity: 11
Endurance: -8 (I mean, 1)
Speed: 2
Intelligence: 1
Luck: 10
Will: 1
Perception: Negative infinity (1)
You attempt to climb one of the pillars. You get about halfway up when your body, burnt practically to the bone, gives out and you fall back into the crowd in a burst of cinders. You are dead.
Grab Wasted Bastard by the throat and bite his head off.
You bite of the corpse's head.
You are on fire.
He was on fire.
His head is still on fire
You are on fire.
Assess flame damage to clothing. If it's too burnt to put back on, loot one of the bodies that is now lying around. Either way, egress to the hospital after putting on clothing.
You decide to just go to the hospital, since you're pretty sure second degree burns covering a large part of your body is worse then looking silly in burnt clothing.
"Good gods, he doesn't even know what's going on. Poor bastard."
Tsafi was both horrified and fascinated by the sight, the man running and fighting seemingly without realising he was aflame.
>Attempt to defend Wasted Bastard as he makes his escape, mostly out of pity.
Scull my remaining beer and break the bottle without damaging the neck, creating a decent weapon.
If I can reach WB, proceed to inflict some pain on his assailants with a combination of headkicks and bottle-stabs.
Name: Tsafi Gohn
Description: A lean, wiry, short fellow with sharp features, a near-constant scowl and his fair share of scars. The tip of his long, hooked nose appears to have been bitten off at some point in his past. His greasy, shoulder length brown hair is usually kept tied back.
Reason for signing up: Worked as a cheap assassin for years, found that the line of work agreed with him, but now an enemy of his has killed his parents in revenge, and he needs the money to care for his three young sisters.
Stats:
Strength: 2
Dexterity: 10
Endurance:1
Speed:1
Intelligence: 2
Luck: 10
Will:1
Perception:1
Put self out, engage Wasted Bastard/his allies.
HE'S DEAD ALREADY, WHY ARE YOU STILL FIGHTING IN HIS NAME?!
"Well, that was interesting. Tune in tomorrow for another fine episode of DEAD. MAN. RUNNING!"
STATIC
Everyone finds themselves back in the waiting room, their injuries bandaged and sewn up.
I think we need to add a few people.