Roll: 6
Alexander headed downstairs to talk. As he descends the stairs, he gets smaller, and smaller, until he has to first climb, then drop, down the stairs. He steels himself against this inconvenience, and hikes the mile or so to the living room, looking up at the towering figures of Joseph and Melissa. “We have to talk” he says, and, surprisingly, they both hear and turn their heads to him. “Keep your head, Alex, this is going well. Melissa isn’t even wearing red. You can do this.”
Roll: 3
Darek walks to the living room, looks at his dad, then looks down. “Sorry ‘bout earlier” he mutters. “I’ll go clean my room now.” Then he heads upstairs and shoves some stuff into his closet and sorta straightens his sheets and blankets, putting his pillow back at the head of the bed, kicking a garden gnome out the window in the process. There. Clean. I guess.
Roll:4
Annie’s explanation seems to satisfy the couple, more or less. At lesat they aren’t calling the cops or screaming at her, like some parents. They seem a little skeptical about the supposed threat though.
“Look, I think you’d better go. But first, we need contact information from you, full name, address, telephone, mkay? We’ll give you a number to reach us at next time you think the kids might be a little too close to the scary spiders and grasshoppers in the woods, mkay?” Annie doesn’t like the father’s tone, but considering that she intruded into their home unnanounced … it’s understandable. Still, a little gratitude for saving their kids’ lives would be nice. Not that Annie, REALLY believes there was something out there. It was just in her head, after all, rihgt? Maybe. Maybe.
GOAL: GET BACK HOME
Wipeout1024
Roll: 4
“Thank you, miss.” Starn says, carefully pushing thetray toward her before standing up, straightening his trousers, and wiping his hands on each other once, twice, three times, four, five, and done. He grabs a napkin and uses it to open the door. Once outside, he folds the napkin into quarters before placing it carefully in the bin, trying not to touch the bin at all. Starn looks around, carefully examining the street. Cars have moved, and the rain has increased a bit. Starn tries to remember the clasiification for this kind of rain. Sprinkling? Drizzling? Dripping? The different cars and darkened sky ithc at his mind - every slight change is troubling - but they are well within “normal,” so Starn is able to keep the thoughts relatively quiet. Now … where to?
Roll:1
Jack doesn’t answer, directly. He does mutter to himself, though. “He’s one of them. He’s after my stash. He is part of the lie. He lies!” And, overcome with rage, Jack rushes out of the stall at the man. [3 v 4] Jeremy lands the first blow, but the guy was looking or a fight, and slams him up against the stalls. The two scuffle for a minute, before the man lands a solid punch to Jack’s stomach, dropping him to the floor. Jack crawls toward his stash, intent on protecting his only leads to the conspiracy. The man sees the loosened tile, and lifts it. “This? this trash? And he laughs and snatches the stash of newspaper clippings, torn pages of books, and other flimflam up, holding it above his head.“Sicko. You want this? huh? Yes? Well, come get it!” It is only when he lifts his arm above his head that Edward notices the tattoo on the inside of his upper arm, a Spiral with an X through it and three eyes located radially around the edge. The Mark! ((I called Jack bot h Jeremy and Edward this time, lol))
Roll:5
"Painisillusoryactionsarebutadreamimustnowlookupandbeholdthetruth" STAN babbles.
Stan recites this mantra, but the pain is real. Very real. It isn’t the pain that convinces Stan of reality, if only for a moment. It is the smell. The smell of the woman he has collided with, mixed with the smell of cheap, institutional gravy and artificial butter and rasperry jelly now dripping down his collar. Stan lifts himself off the nurse, and helps her up as well, before turning to the source of the commotion. Predictably, the source is a fight amongst several of the inmates. It doesn’t look like the fight is winding down, either, and the two orderlies in the room are overmatched trying to break it up. Shouting can be heard from all sides, some articulate, others incoherent, some simply howls, and Stan and the nurse are right in the middle of the room.
Roll:1
The screams make sleep impossible. Jeremy cluthces his head, and repeats “itisn’trealitisn’trealitisn’treaitisn’treal” until his voice begins to merge with the sounds of anger, the sounds of fear, the sounds of raw pain, pounding on him from all around, from within. The sceams coalesce, and one image, part memory, part … who knows? .. comes into focus. Jeremy stands up, unable to resist, and stares with horror at the apparition kneeling at the foot of his bed, bleeding and sobbing. So young .. she shouldn’t be suffering so. Jeremy reaches for the gun at his hip. It would be a mercy to kill her. So much pain.
Roll:5
"S-s-sorry, I must- I must go..."
Joseph dashes out the door of the little café he found himself in, slightly smushing the sandwich in his hand against the glass door as he pushes his way out.
“Good by, it was niceto meet you!”
Joseph looks about, spying several eateries, some shops, a hot dog cart, a few offices, and some clearly labeled street signs. It’s late evening, overcast, and chilly. He is in a fairly large town or a small city. He takes a long sip from the straw sticking out of the large disposeable cup in his left hand and looks again at the slightly damaged ham and cheese sandwich in his right, as he walks, avoiding eye contact with any pedestrians, who all seem content to leave him alone, each busy wit htheir own (doomed)lives, their own thoughts.
Roll:6
Knife tucked away, Shed locked and bolted, key secured, Edward storms off around the side of the house. The brightly colored hangings on the porch flutter slightly in the wind as Edward rounds the corner, past the large sign in the front yard declaring boldly “Fireworks!” and up the stairs. He spots the man, idly browsing one of the shelves of sparklers. The man spots Edward as he climbs the steps, and goes back to rowzing, perhaps mistaking him for another customer.
“What do you want?” Edward demands roughly.
“Oh, are you the owner? My family is going to a picnic and I was looking for an ass-“ ((looking for an ass? Goal achieved))
“We’re closed.”
“But-“
Edward grabs a wooden pole leaning against the wall.
“Edward!” His wife sounds a little shocked, a little pissed.
“Hey man, easy, I just wanted some fireworks, I’m going.”
Edward manages to not hit the guy as he storms off.
“Edward, that was ridiculous. What’s wrong with you?” His wife demands, from over by the checkout table. “We don’t even close for two hours. You have to stop this.”