Init:
Leila
Robot
Duh! (Slow)
Reload and Reposition now that my meatshield is gone
You creep roughly twenty feet to your right, repositioning and hiding behind a new pile of trash. You reload as you go.
-1 SP
Kick off the sticky thing
Roll: Autosucceed
After a twenty-ish seconds of uninterrupted effort, the robot eventually manages to scrape off enough of the sticky rope to stand up again.
Aim
Leila centers her aim on the robot's torso, aiming for some of the gashes her late teammate caused.
-1 SP
find the shooter!
Roll:
6,3(Robot)(Blind) vs 4(Leila)
The robot starts madly searching, bashing through the trash with it's club arm. It manages to advance, mostly by chance, a few feet in the direction you used to be, but does not make much progress otherwise.
Shoot and move!
Roll:6(Leila) vs 2(Robot)
(6+8)(Damage Roll)(No Crit)+4(Accuracy Bonus)-8(Resistance)(Club)=10 damage
The round strikes true, but the large, cumbersome wooden club-arm acts as an impromptu shield, decreasing the bullet's velocity. The strike is still devastating, though, as the bullet completely penetrates the robot, hitting something vital and sending a cloud of smoke, sparks, and plasma into the air. You quickly move another two dozen feet, trying to throw its aim off. It's almost like you're in a sadistic game of marco polo or something.
-1 SP
CHARGE!!!
Roll:
5,4(Blind)
The robot charges through the trash, toward Leila's previous location smashing everything in its path. It gets within ten feet of her, overshooting by only a few yards. It's close. Too close.
Say Stuff
"Okay... So you...
So you...
So you... sing?" the voice says, increasingly becoming more metallic, garish, and high-pitched. "
BWAHAHAHAHA, Oh, this'll be great for getting views! A singing swordsman who can't keep from getting his head RIPPED OFF! HAHAHAHAHA! Do you wanna see some slow motion replays of...YOUR DEATH?? No? TOO BAD!" At this, you are seized by a cold, metallic pincer grasp and yanked from the fluid substance. The hand deposits you in a chair, in front of which a TV screen is situated, gracing your newly opened, biological eyes with several slow motion replays of exactly what happens when you hit somebody in the head with a trash can at eighty-odd miles per hour. After twenty seconds of watching the left part of your face suddenly be merged with the right, you manage to collect enough of your wits to ask a few questions. "
Lady? HA! I'm a robot, stupid. You can call me D.A.V.E., which stands for Dave dAve daVe davE. What’s going on? YOU’RE going on! PRIMETIME TV! That’s right! I want YOU to entertain people with displays of horrible violence. And YOU owe ME that entertainment! Also, no robot heads for you.Objectives:
-Kill The Robot
Bonus Objectives:
-Kill The Robot By Turn 4