We seem to have very many orders of "Run" today. To save us all time, I'm going to process every other order first, and then see if "Run" is still a valid order. I mean, its always
valid, but sometimes its superfluous.
Continue waiting, Bob will try to see if he can patch into actual police channels to see if they're already responding or what.
Name: Robert McKinley
Description: McKinley was about ten years old when WWI ended, and his brother returned with innumerable stories of gore and glory. Robert desired to fight for his country in the same way. There was, however, no immediate war in which he could partake. He considered himself to be one of the few to hate the Roaring Twenties. They were a time when the people wallowed in extravagance and purposely forgot the horrors, but also the sacrifices and heroism of the great war. And then came the depression. He found himself liking the depression, though of course, he didn't admit that. Mainly because it seemed like fitting retribution for the excess of the previous years. it might have also had to do with the fact that he managed to retain his job and keep up a standard of living. In any case, 1939 was a year almost of rejoicing, and after he had settled his affairs, he signed up for the battle which he had lusted for.
He's a tall, blondish man who fancies himself to have a certain rakish look. His eyes are deep set under a heavy brow, but full of disturbing light. Call him Bob.
Physical: 0
Mental: 0
Life: 0
Glory: 115
Stats:
Strength: +1
Dexterity: +1
Will: +1
Senses: +2
Skills:
Hand to Hand: +1
Exotic Melee: +1
Machinegun +3
Pistol: +1
Car: +2
Camouflage:+1
Language: +2 (Fluent in french, small amount of Italian)
Inventory:
First Aid Pouch (Allows First Aid)
Entrenching Tool (A folding shovel)
Rations (Restores up to -2 on physical dice)
MP-34
1x 34 round ammo box
Browning Auto Rifle (20 shot, risk 3, +1 risk for every 3 shots fired in a burst)
5 BAR magazines (Should I get rid of some of these? Because I had five from back when the BAR got five, and I was just assuming my character held onto them)
1 BAR mag with incendiary rounds.
M1910 pistol (9 shot, risk 2)
Supressor (makes pistol risk 8 if unnoticed)
2 pistol magazines
1 first aid kit
1 trench knife
1 radio (Unbroken)
3 german medals
1 strange medallion.
1 Clicker
1 L type Flashlight
1 sewing kit
1 Mirror
1 razor set
1 Bar of soap
1 Toothpaste and toothbrush set
1 compressed TP roll
1 Pack of Chesterfield Cigarettes
1 Lighter
1 Mess kit
1 Knit cap
1 Notepad and Pen
1 Haversack
1 Gunbelt with Magazine pouches
1 Canteen and Cup
1 Compass
Survived Injuries+Missions:
Hit in the forehead with machinegun fire on D-Day, helmet broke his nose, but saved his life.
Clipped by machinegun fire from main bunker on D-Day.
Caught in part of the fuel explosion in Poland: Large burns on exposed skin, but survived.
Survived the attack on the USS St. Elijah.
[3]
You attempt to patch yourself into the real police radios but can't quite do it. You can tell, via the general tone and urgency of the garbled static and incomprehensible voices that the police probably know something has happened and are en-route, but you can't make out any specifics no matter how much you fiddle with the dials.
"And once again, everybody except me starts dying for some reason that definitely isn't my fault. I'd question why this always happens, but I know I wouldn't get any answer."
Calmly sip tea while all my allies die. Order whatever the most expensive item on the menu is.
Name: Simon Smith
Description: A short and somewhat stocky man with a thick beard. His looks are deceptive, as he's actually quite agile.
He has six firearms chained to his back, along with an assortment of knives and a sniper rifle he's always carrying around. He's wearing an "inconspicuous" birdwatcher outfit, while carrying a small arsenal of firearms in bags.
Physical: +0
Mental: +0
Life: +0 (Unless his disguise includes a helmet)
Stats: Strength: +1
Dexterity:+2
Sense:+2
Skills: Sniper Rifle:+3
Camouflage:+3
Melee:+2
First Aid:+1
Traps:+1
Demolitions:+1
Class Inventory: - First Aid Pouch (Allows First Aid)
- Entrenching Tool (A folding shovel)
- Ration (Restores up to -2 on physical dice)
- A bunch of useful bits and bobs
- Scoped Springfield M1903 A4 [5/5] (5 shot, risk 5 at long range, risk 3 at medium, risk 2 at close)
- 2/2 Springfield "magazines"
- Binoculars
- Spare Scope (Mounted on Gewehr)
- 1/2 Smoke grenades
- A "mag" of incendiary rounds for the Springfield (loaded in spare Springfield)
- Scoped De Lisle carbine [10/11] (silent)
Looted Inventory:- Helmet (+1 Life bonus, Single Use)
- MG 15 [37/75]
- Scoped Gewehr 43 [10/10] (Risk 3)
- Two Gewehr Magazines
- Mauser C96 [10/10]
- Angular Nazi Lightning Rifle [10/10] (Risk 4, hopefully silent)
- A spare Springfield M1903 A4 [5/5] (Loaded with incendiaries)
- Three spare Springfield "magazines"
- Knife (risk 2)
- A collection of "Chains, rope, small knives, and other things" looted from a Nazi supply depot.
GLORY: 0.
"Ah. Hmm. I think people we know are about to die. Ed is yelling very insistently over the radio, which isn't a good sign."
Well! What is it!
Name: Alice Gwerhierhwaer
Description: Short blue dyed hair, shiny orange eyes. Tallish, and not thin. Hairy.
Physical: +0
Mental: +0
Life: +0
Stats:
Speed 1
Dexterity 2
Will 1
Knowledge 1
Senses 1
Skills:
Plane 3
Operator 2
Mechanic 2
Melee 1
Pistol 1
First Aid 1
GLORY: 50
Inventory:
Fancy hat
Police baton
Silenced pistol (2 risk normally, but 8 if unnoticed. Does not draw attention by sound. 8/8 shot)
2 pistol magazines
Handie talkie
Binoculars
Fancy Hat
First Aid Pouch (Allows First Aid)
Entrenching Tool (A folding shovel)
Ration (Restores up to -2 on physical dice)
Mechanic’s tools
Flare Gun (For signalling planes for rescue. 1 shot, risk 2)
Knife (Risk 2)
Silenced pistol (2 risk normally, but 8 if unnoticed. Does not draw attention by sound. 8/8 shot)
2 pistol magazines
Joan's Radio
"You think we should go back and help them?" Alice says, as the coffee arrives.
"No." Simon replies, dumping an alarming amount of sugar into his coffee.
"Why not?"
"If they're yelling, either things are about to explode or everyone is already in the process of dying. Or being arrested. None of those situations are my area of expertise."
"Not even getting arrested?"
Simon stirs his coffee in meaningful silence.
"Uh Huh. So whats the plan then? Wait for everything to shake out however its going to and then meet up with the survivors? Or are we just gonna catch a cab and head west until we end up on the Elijah?"
"We'll see how it plays out for now. If they contain the situation we'll reconnect with them. If things go violently terrible, we'll find our own way out."
"Think they'll get us for desertion?"
"Not our fault we got separated from the team in the chaos. We're incompetent, not traitors."
"Strategic incompetence. Yes. Its just mundane enough to work!"
"Been working for you for years, I bet."
"You're an asshole, you know that?"
"Yes. But I'm
alive. And when every gallant idiot is rotting in a trench, I will be alive."
"You have the tenacity and lovable personality of black mold."
"I'll say something sarcastic at your funeral."
Statistics? Friendly fire? Snesless babbling? That's my Radio! I'm coming buddy!"
Ed will approach the suite and haul his equipment back to the end of the hall, or someplace clear of smoke, then he will assist in repairing Radio's damaged hand. If no more Nazis are forthcoming, He'll go in the apartment and search for the bombs, to disable them and add them (and the press) to his inventory.
Description: average height, average build, brown hair, brown eyes, plain face.
[...]
Stats:
2 Dexterity
2 Will
1 Senses
Skills:
3 mechanic[...]
Mission equipment: Bribe money, wire rim spectacles, an oversized Rubber Ducky, touristy clothing.
You saunter over to the entrance and start packing things back up, unhooking tripwires and generally making the hall more or less OSHA compliant. After finishing that you head into the apartment and follow Tala's grumbling of traps. [1] You reach through the opening in the door and, with a pair of wire cutters, snip the steel wire. From inside you can hear a whiz of movement as the wire sides across something and then a clank and a half dozen metallic "PING!"s.
"Ah. Its one of those kind of traps." You say, carefully placing your wire cutters back into your bag and gingerly shutting the door, patting it twice after its closed. You spin on your heel and promptly start running.
Tala kept a wary eye on Edward as he did all that--wondering in the split seconds why he didn't bother communicating...as an idea hit her as she got her answer.
"RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!!!!!!"
In the time between Edward's telegraphed approach and safekeeping, she had a layout of the area given her skills as a hotel custodian/cleaning service crew -n undercover journalist. This was the third floor of a higher-rise apartment: A delayed explosive would be notable for several reasons; the one who tripped it forgot it was trapped, or some 'nosy' cleaner accidentally did it in (thus it would be disguised as the affable English-speakers cover it up while distracting the fellow); it would have a very familiar method of being deactivated, but something inconspicuous to the 'nosy' snooper until it was too late; it would create more trouble than it was worth, blowing up a whole sizeable area of a floor for the worth of keeping intelligence protected and-...
As Edward's certainty appeared fixed, Tala turned to the only other guy present nearby: Someone...she didn't really know the name of, but had the 888th mannerism about him. She had the last idea in mind of the worst case scenario, alongside the damage in the least to the PR of the 888th and their trust in the British Allied Forces if this would result in both a lost Printing Press, and multiple casualties in wartime on home soil, and at worst, a political backlash, which wasn't needed in the current time. Either way, she had two notable options--suggestably note that he was welcome to help, or to leg it out.
"Help me or run!" she said to him, having her handy-talkie still on her person in the heat of the moment (so everyone could hear), "I'm getting that explosive out! Edward, if I die here, I'll kill you!"
. . .I wish your surname was Cullen, so I can be thoroughly grumpy, Edward.
Anyway:
> Get in that area, be extremely wary about traps, with the aim of deescalating the whole thing and saving the printing press (chuck it out the window, find a switch to disarm or delay the explosive, depending on the roll, make it work out the best for narrative; this includes using my rifle or something as a disarmament aid, like shooting a wire or such, I've no idea what 'trap' this was, but this is the theme of my action), like even throwing them in the sitting room or other lesser dangerous area would be a point to do [I lack knowledge of these terms and places, but the intent is to deescalate this tense situation]
> I am not escaping this area.
Glory: 0
Weapons:
(E) Scoped Springfield M1903 A4; [0/5 ammunition total]
Silenced Pistol [8/8]; [8/8]
Equipped Weapon Skill: +3 [+0 if used in Melee/+0 in HtH]
Name: Tala Agata
Description: Tala was enlisted alongside her kin, for their renown in sharpshooting and rugged terrain survival. Being the one who had taught Joan how to shoot, she was only a year her senior before they had been separated in different brigades. She was recently transferred to the 888th after the Normandy landings.
Physical: -
Mental: -
Life: -1 {+Helmet}
Stats:
Speed: +1
Dexterity: +1
Will: +1
Knowledge: +1
Senses: +1
Skills:
+3 Sniper rifle
+2 First Aid
+2 Medical Training
+1 Camouflage
+1 Pistol
+1 Languages
Inventory:
(Worn) Maid Uniform
Journalist's Uniform; disguising to not look female, and blending in the dark.
A Flat Cap*
*(Worn) A Helmet hidden by a flat cap {Just for the game mechanic to apply?}
A few pens, which can be used as lockpicks
Binoculars
Police Badge/Uniform
A copy of that propaganda paper
1 Carry-bag (Medic Bag)
2 smoke grenades (hidden)
1 military beret (hidden)
1 Birdcalling-whistle
2 Handie-talkies
1 Pack of Chesterfield Cigarettes
1 Lighter
1 Knit cap
1 Notepad and Pen
1 Canteen and Cup
1 Compass
1 Mirror
1 Clicker
1 L type Flashlight
1 First Aid Pouch (Allows First Aid. Single use)
1 Ration (Restores up to -2 on physical dice)
1 "Birdwatcher" themed van, carrying all equipment below in the other spoiler. Its driving controls are pretty much a joystick.
2 springfield magazines
2 Medic Bags
Probably a lot of tinfoil
1 Entrenching Tool (A folding shovel)
1 Sewing kit
1 razor set
1 Bar of soap
1 Toothpaste and toothbrush set
1 compressed TP roll
1 Mess kit
1 Haversack
1 Gunbelt with Magazine pouches
((Hey Ti, assuming you survive, would you mind spoiling things sometimes? The girth of your post is frightening.))
You barge straight into the room. Its a bedroom, though the bed has been shoved up against the wall and all other furniture has been stacked up around or on top of it. The room is dark, lit only by the lights outside the window, but even still the bulk of the printing press is visible right in the center of the room. Its not as big as you originally thought, though its still the size of a table and about as tall as you are. They must have brought it in pieces and then assembled it here. There are stacks of unused paper and finished newspapers all around. You scan quickly, following the wire back to the press and see what the trap is: Grenades. The wire being released seems to have pulled the pins on about a half dozen frag and incendiary grenades that are now scattered around the press.
[6][6]
You take only a half second to formulate a plan and then get moving. You flip your rifle, holding it by the barrel, and swing it like a baseball bat at the window, smashing the glass and the wooden crossbars out in a single blow. You don't even bother to stop it, you just drop the rifle as soon as the glass is free and dive to the ground, scooping up grenades. The incendiary ones are already starting to catch, spraying particles of white phosphorous and smoke, threatening to light all the paper and turn the room into an inferno. You grab them, ignoring the burning heat and searing flecks of light, and start hurling them out the window, one after another or two or even three at a time. You have no idea how long it takes, each second seems to last a lifetime and no time at all. Finally, you throw the last one, the potato masher sailing forward, spinning like a baton. The window frames it as it tumbles, arcing off towards the park and the street. And then they go off.
The rest of the window, as well as every other window nearby, shatters and explodes inward, filling the room with glass and wood and plaster. Your ears are ringing, but you can still hear the screaming down on the street.
Take Cover. Far away from room. Make sure I'm not in the way of a crowd.
"Clear out!"
Name: Denver Gaunt
Description: Denver Gaunt is an average man of average build from New York. His family ran a small bakery, but Denver was disenchanted with the working class life and took up boxing. After joining up into the army, he discovered a newfound love of war and was quite overeager, eventually being transferred into the 888th for insubordination after several men were killed due to his rashness.
Physical: -2
Mental: 0
Life: +1
Stats:
Speed +1
Dexterity +1
Will +1
Senses +2
Skills:
Melee +3
First Aid +2
Camouflage +2
Traps +1
SMG +1
Operator +1
Inventory:
SCR 300 Radio Transceiver and Handset
Thompson SMG (25/25, Risk 2+1 for every five rounds in
burst )
Spare Magazine [25/25]
Binoculars
Flares (Red, Green, Black, Blue, and Yellow smoke)
Flare Gun
Trench Knife (Risk 3)
Universal Kit
Seeing the commotion and sudden crowd of people running for it, you decide that maybe sticking around here is a bad idea. You're not in the best shape, but the aid and the pain killers are working well enough for you to shove yourself up and half jog, half limp down the hall to the stairwell.
Oh. Those traps.
“That can’t be good!
To the residents: Everyone, stay away from the door!” We have squibs in there, and some prankster just lit the fuse! Expect loud noises, possibly flames, but don’t worry, just don’t get too close!
“Hey Lady, I really am not a bomb person, so I’m just gonna run and scream descalating things at the residents!
run! Away! Then scream that everything is okay, expect a loud noise at anybody that listens.
Edit: screams.
Name: Jimmy Grouse
Description:
A sniper. He was in percussion,(in school), drafted as the drummer boy. His long hours of B.B. shooting worked out when he made a long shot with a rifle, hitting a general and winning a battle. He was drafted into sniper school, became a HOG(hunter of gunmen), but then, when he needed to relieve himself, he revealed his bases position to the enemy, which was then stormed. He was then demoted, but kept his favorite butterfly knife(I’ll get it later).
Physical:0
Mental:0
Life:0
Stats:
+1 strength
+1 speed
+1 Dexterity
+1 will
+1 knowledge
Skills:
+3 sniper rifle
+ 2 combat
+2 first aid
+1 hand to hand
+1 car
+1 traps
Inventory:
Scoped Springfield M1903 A4 (5 shots, risk 5 at long range, risk 3 at medium, risk 2 at close)(3/5)
2 springfield magazines(5/5, 5/5)
Binoculars
1 First Aid Pouch (Allows First Aid. Single use)
1 Entrenching Tool (A folding shovel)
1 Ration (Restores up to -2 on physical dice)
1 Clicker
1 L type Flashlight(taped to Springfield)
1 Sewing kit
1 Mirror
1 razor set
1 Bar of soap
1 Toothpaste and toothbrush set
1 compressed TP roll
1 Pack of Chesterfield Cigarettes
1 Lighter
1 Mess kit
1 Knit cap(with razor inside)
1 Notepad and Pen
1 Haversack
1 Gunbelt with Magazine pouches
1 Canteen and cup
1 compass
You run straight out into the hall and proceed to scream at every single civilian head that you see poking out from a door that there are live explosives about to go off in the next room, but that they shouldn't worry about it. Its probably fine so long as they just...you know...duck and cover and stuff.
You also make it to the stairwell.
Run Fast. Take the most expeditious route away from exploding. Run with eyes wide, a sense of urgency written across every feature. Be a pargon of that most dire of auguries: The Fleeing Explosives Expert. Scream:
"RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!!!!!!"
As I run. Scream it primarily at the Radio, secondarily at the confused civilians, and tertiarily at the rest of the team, but mostly, just scream it in the general direction in which Ed is running.
Description: average height, average build, brown hair, brown eyes, plain face.
0 Physical
0 Mental
0 Life
Stats:
2 Dexterity
2 Will
1 Senses
Skills:
3 mechanic
2 tank
2 trap
1 camouflage
1 operator
1 demolitions
Inventory:
Universal Equipment: 1 First Aid Pouch (Allows First Aid. Single use)
1 Entrenching Tool (A folding shovel)
1 Ration (Restores up to -2 on physical dice)
1 Clicker
2 L type Flashlights
1 Sewing kit
1 Mirror
1 razor set
1 Bar of soap
1 Toothpaste and toothbrush set
1 compressed TP roll
1 Pack of Chesterfield Cigarettes(9/9) + 1 additional cig
1 Lighter
1 Mess kit
1 Knit cap
1 Notepad and Pen
1 Haversack
1 Gunbelt with Magazine pouches
1 Canteen and Cup
1 Compass
1 pair spare socks, wool, warm
Engineer’s EquipmentMechanic’s tools
Trap making Kit
3 Satchel Charges (Risk 7)
Knife (Risk 2)
Nazi Commander Luger 7/8 ammo (Risk 2)
One of the Nazi angular guns that Simon looted (I believe this is in use by Radio at this time)
Nazi Officer's Uniform, gently used
One fancy (Nylon!) hat with ear flaps
290 GLORY
One fully autonomous Radio:
Pretty sure I gave it to Oz since he was the first to answer. Not that he can't be used by multiple people.
Mission equipment: Bribe money, wire rim spectacles, an oversized Rubber Ducky, touristy clothing.
You also run out of the room, though your message is perhaps not as restrained as the man who came before you. He argued for caution and cover, while you are arguing for pants-shitting terror and horrified sprinting. You don't really stop to see if anyone is following your advice, due to the previously mentioned pants-shitting terror. But you make it to the stairwell, just as all the others.
"RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!!!!!!"
As I run. Scream it primarily at the Radio, secondarily at the confused civilians, and tertiarily at the rest of the team, but mostly, just scream it in the general direction in which Ed is running.
"Oh goodie, an ordnance technician at a dead run." The radioman thought to himself, as he was lifting the next body onto the cart.
"Eep."
Running running running.
Name: Radioman
Description: A radioman.
Physical: -2
Mental: 0
Life: -2
75 GLORY
Stats:
Strength: 0
Speed: 2
Dexterity: 2
Will: 0
Knowledge: 0
Senses: 1
Skills:
Operator: +3
Rifle: +2
Camouflage: +2
Mechanic: +1
Melee: +1
Language: +1
Inventory:
1 First Aid Pouch (Allows First Aid. Single use)
1 Entrenching Tool (A folding shovel)
1 Ration (Restores up to -2 on physical dice)
1 Clicker
1 L type Flashlight
1 Sewing kit
1 Mirror
1 razor set
1 Bar of soap
1 Toothpaste and toothbrush set
1 compressed TP roll
1 Pack of Chesterfield Cigarettes
13 individual cigs
1 Lighter
1 Mess kit
1 Knit cap
1 Notepad and Pen
1 Haversack
1 Gunbelt with Magazine pouches
1 Canteen and Cup
1 Compass
2 grenades
1 blowtorch
flyzapper gun (risk: ??)
Run away, yelling at everyone to get away from the room or get to cover.
Name: Carolina Oliveira
Description:
An average sized woman with an athletic build.
She comes from Brazil, where she was secretly trained as a spy. Despite her training, she took up more combat skills than she did stealth and espionage. She was deployed with the Brazilian Navy in the Atlantic for some time before being sent on reconnaissance in Italy, from there she somehow ended up here.
GLORY: 50
Physical:0
Mental:0
Life:+1
Ammo in current magazine:3
Magazines remaining:4
Grenades:2
Stats:
Strength +2
Dexterity +2
Knowledge +1
Skills:
Rifle +3
Melee +2
Explosives +2
Language +1
Interrogation +1
Pistol +1
Inventory:
Luger (2 magazines)
Rifleman Equipment
Helmet and flack vest (+1 life)
M1 Garand (8 shot, Risk 3)
5 M1 round clips
Bayonet (risk 3)
2 Frag Grenades (Risk 7)
Universal Equipment:
1 First Aid Pouch (Allows First Aid. Single use)
1 Entrenching Tool (A folding shovel)
1 Ration (Restores up to -2 on physical dice)
1 Clicker
1 L type Flashlight
1 Sewing kit
1 Mirror
1 razor set
1 Bar of soap
1 Toothpaste and toothbrush set
1 compressed TP roll
1 Pack of Chesterfield Cigarettes
1 Lighter
1 Mess kit
1 Knit cap
1 Notepad and Pen
1 Haversack
1 Gunbelt with Magazine pouches
1 Canteen and Cup
1 Compass
The final two people out focus mainly on the running aspect of the running, leaving the screaming to the men who had come before. Most inquisitive heads have either ducked back into their rooms or are staring in that sort of Deer-in-the-headlights kind of uncomprehending terror. No one has started following you or running on their own yet.
You both reach the stairwell too.
Author
Topic: 888th Brigade: DAY OF THE PURGE (Read 467338 times)