Evil RoyEvil Roy checks for avenues of approach to the Bridge. How many are there? And do any seem objectively better than others?
Gazing into the bridge entrance corridor, Evil Roy identifies two obvious points of entry. The first is the corridor. The second may be the tube system he just entered through - it seemed to split off towards the bridge. He might, of course, make another way with any combination of backtracking, high explosives or determination, but that seems like a lot of work for unknown advantage.
---
Status: Evil. Purplish?
HP: 22/30
Possessions: -
'Reaver' Powered Crossbow [Damage 4/
Close-Ranged I,
Stunning +1, Special Ammo/Sadistic, Mind-Altering]
-
Ursus Amplifier Sword [Damage 5/Amplifier/Bear, Intensify]
-Maelocht's Gloves [
Soulgnawer]
+Parachute
+Nazi Fire Extinguisher
-0 Fabricator Tokens
Traits: None
Once more, for good measure.
A diamond tooth, shot through the biggest, flashiest, most important looking piece of equipment. A second shot through the second-most important looking bit.
Then abscond mightily.
[3+1=4] Speaks looks around a bit and then shoots one of his shiny diamond teeth into the control panels. It punches its way inside with a pleasant spray of sparks and a dying of screens. He follows up with another shot through a marginally less important-looking piece of machinery. This should make any attempt to regain control a bit trickier.
The next part of his plan is a touch harder.
[3] Speaks heads out, but is already intercepted at the doorway as a broad-shouldered crewman barrels into him with a furious cry.
[3+1=4]vs[3] Speaks is marginally faster to react, though both of them stagger around in such clumsy confusion they do more damage to themselves than eachother.
[Dodge:3] Speaks claws the man across the chin, causing little lasting harm but at least getting the Nazi off him. Using the chance, he bolts out of the door.
[4] The engine room is abuzz with activity and more than a little panic. The number of guards is countable with half a hand, and the sounds of gunfire seem to be reaching ever closer. Alarms continue to wail over the general hubbub. Despite the chaos, a few pointing figures and calls lock on to him (to be fair, he is a saurian horror from outer space), so Speaks needs no further convincing to vacate the premises.
[1] He gets to the door he came through when his luck suddenly drops out from under him and he's faced with a wall of Nazi stormtroopers charging right at him.
[2,6,4,1,4] Though they appear to be fleeing from something, they're still holding onto their weapons - as Speaks, much to his dismay, now finds out.
[Dodges:6/6/6] He immediately launches into an astounding display of acrobatics that sends him flying into walls, somersaulting past scorching laser beams, limboing point blank volleys of death and using Nazi heads as launching pads for further displays of absurdly show-offy dodging. The Nazis open up at eachother in confusion, and the ones who survive are left staring slackjawed as he skips away into freedom.
In the next room, where his tube originally landed him, he finds another kind of squad entirely. Men who appear to be uniformly bearded and fur-hatted approach with submachineguns pointed his way.
[4] Thankfully, his alien appearance appears to convince the Soviets he might not be a Nazi, and they choose not to fill him with lead.
---
Status: Gnarly, +1 to CR, 1 turn remaining.
HP: 30/30
Possessions:-
Tooth Gun [Damage 3/
Precise, Special Ammo/Teeth]
>Shattering Teeth (2) [Tearing II] >Diamond Teeth (10) [+3 Damage/Piercing II, Stunning +0]-The Terrorporter [
Terror Port]
-Dazzle Suit (Variant IX) [Unuseable.]
+Nazi First Aid Materials (2)
-0 Fabricator Tokens
Traits: None
Crit rotates though a bunch of allied posters on his cracked screen to make sure everyone knows he is on their side. He also waves to London.
He removes Herr Doctor's equipment and goes through the pockets searching for any key cards, mysterious syringes, ray guns or the like.
Erin blinks. Finally she'd f-ing hit something. Time to loot. Staying well away from the shadows.
In the lab, Crit and Erin turn to the most important part of a hero's job - looting! Crit drops down to the bad Doktor's moaning body while showing lots of Allied symbols on his screens. The red stars and hammers and sickles appear to mollify the bloodthirsty Soviets, though it's perhaps your willingness to go through the pockets of a man you threw down from a balcony that convinces them that you're not on his side.
[6] Under his suit, he's wearing an ordinary labcoat with a lot of pockets. Crit finds some papers of little interest, his wallet (a few lonely silver reichseagles - science doesn't pay, it seems), and a heavy lab tube filled with a liquid that... seems to be changing color and texture constantly. It appears to contain many, perhaps all, different chemicals at the same time - Nazi science might be worth something, after all. Furthermore, there's a key, though it's the strangest key he's ever seen, with similar properties. He can't seem to see what it actually looks like - at times, it seems a similar key of metal, other times an electronic keycard, and then again some strange, organic mass. Everytime he tries to focus on it, it's something else entirely. The scientist struggles in vain as the robot loots them off him.
Crit: Quantum Lab Tube gained!
Crit: Quantum Key gained!Erin, too late to attend to the Doktor, goes to search the fallen troopers instead. They have far less things of interest - a photo of family there, a draft of a novel in making here, some well-worn love poem, a grandma's cooking recipe... useless trash, to put it simply. She does take a Nazi submachinegun and flashlight, in case they prove handy.
Erin: MPL-188 gained!
Erin: Flashlight gained!While they're at it, one of the lights at the edge of the room flickers and dies. Potentially alarming. The Nazi scientist seems to be begging the heroes not to leave him there.
---
Jetpack Soviet Team Leader [HP:5/5]
*With London, Crit and Erin
*PPSh-48 [Damage 3/Close-Ranged I/Communist]
*Biggest Hat [+1 CR to comrades in area]
Jetpack Soviet #1 [HP:5/5]
*With London, Crit and Erin
*PPSh-48 [Damage 3/Close-Ranged I/Communist]
Jetpack Soviet #2 [HP:5/5]
*With London, Crit and Erin
*PPSh-48 [Damage 3/Close-Ranged I/Communist]
Status: Stranded.
HP: 25/30 [-3 to Damage]
Possessions: -
Cadgewell's Green Rifle [Damage 3/
Inaccurate,
Internal Bloom/Earth, Overgrown, Organ]
-
Mnemonic Autocannon [Damage -/
Heavy Weapon,
Automatic I,
Stunning +0,
Memory Drain/Lion, Memory, Large]
-
MPL-188 [Damage 4/
Close-Ranged I,
Volatile/Nazi]]
-
Armor of the Pariah [DR:-3/
Pariah State/Ugly, Magical, Depression]
-Flashlight
-0 Fabricator Tokens
Traits: None
Status: Obsolete.
HP: 29/30
Possessions:-
Dress Sword [Damage 3/Nazi]
-
MPL-188 [Damage 4/
Close-Ranged I,
Volatile/Nazi]
+Nazi First Aid Materials (2)
+Mega Seeds
+SGP Glue
+Last Resort Explosive Digger
+Parachute Pack
+Quantum Lab Tube [An experimental product of Nazi superscience. Appears to contain every chemical at once.]
+Quantum Key [An experimental product of Nazi superscience. Appears to
be every key at once.]
+0 Fabricator Tokens
Traits: Nazified London, secure in the knowledge that her fellow Heroes have the Doktor under control, takes the most direct route to the bridge possible.
"C'mon, comerades! It's time ta end this!"
Followed by her eager Soviet comrades, London runs up the stairs and heads straight for the bridge. Nothing is going to keep her from Heroics!
They enter the Bridge and come to a stop. It is, in som regards, a supersized version of the previous ship's bridge - a circular space with large glass windows making up the far wall. Here, though, a literal bridge leads to an enormous silver throne looking over the entire space, and on that throne is the only person in the room.
Well. Using the term 'person' loosely.
What rises out of that throne to face London and her company seems to be more rippling muscle than man, a huge, towering giant with four bulging arms and legs as thick as tree trunks, still wearing the rags of something recognizable as a Luftwaffe commander's uniform and adorned with all the insignia and pauldrons of a Reichsmarschall. Reddened eyes stare out of a face that might've once been handsome until it became all too fat.
The giant shakes himself loose of see-through tubes that connect him to his throne, and in each hand picks up an enormous machinegun.
'Marx save us!' a Soviet whispers at London's ear.
'It's the monster himself! It's Göring!'With booming laughter, four-armed, gene-engineered, regenerating Hermann Göring comes to face the Heroes of Justice!
The Reichsmarschall [HP:50/50]*
By the Throne, Long Range*4x MG70s [Damage 3/
Automatic II,
Inaccurate/Nazi]
*
Tissue Regeneration [Regenerates 1d4 HP per turn unless set on fire, electrocuted, poisoned, etc. etc. Chance of rampant growth resulting in mutations.]
*
Abomination of Science [+2 Stunning Resistance, +1 to Combat Rolls]
*
Limbs Like Tree Trunks [Melee attacks cause +3 Damage and are Stunning +0.]
---
Status: Rattled.
HP: 23/25
Possessions:-
Grímnir's Hold [Damage 6/
Unwieldy I, Ancient Wards/Containment]
-
Luger PP12 Plasma Pistol [Damage 3/
Disrupting I/Nazi]
-
Kodion Thermal Shield [DR: -2/Shield Use: 3/
Fire Barrier/Fire]
-Jetpack Soviet Fur Hat
+Nazi First Aid Materials (2)
+Nazi Experiment Logs
-0 Fabricator Tokens
Traits: None
---
Speaks should be banned from rolling that well. Look at the few past turns!
I find it unbelievably funny a member of the team has gone solo and doomed the ship everyone's on to certain doom...
again.
Author
Topic: Guns, Cash, and Glory: A Random-Generated Scifi Rampage [Mission II!] (Read 56845 times)