Arynne
Salmon of Doubt
Erin ducks right, into the stacks. Hopefully she can lose her pursuer there...or at least set up an ambush.
[The Grid] Chatper 1: Hardwired
- Thread starter Persell
- Start date
lordofthestorm
A Great Big Goose, Clad in Orange
Kase followed her into the stacks, looking around for her. He was somewhat athletic, but he couldn't keep this up forever. Picking up the marble was probably not the smartest move in the world, so now he had to do this the old fashioned way: with his eyes.
So he slowed down, taking a deep breath. Then, he began to walk down the center of the aisle, his eyes searching for her...
So he slowed down, taking a deep breath. Then, he began to walk down the center of the aisle, his eyes searching for her...
The Bushranger
Member
Patrick
Dangit... Patrick thinks to himself as the cop walks over. He wanted to avoid attention - although, of course, if the cops were already looking at him, that might make any needed deception easier.
of course, he also realises that since Lace and Kase are already in the 'Vette, and Stingrays only have two seats, well, either he'll have to stop to pick somebody up or Corvette accomodations will get cozy.
The weirdo with the hot dog gets an appropriately weird look, and he shakes his head as he sets the phone down, reaching for the window crank and, well, cranking it a moment after the officer raps on the window. Putting on his best smile - one the ladies tended to appreciate, but the corporate boards never really appreciated enough to land that breakthrough sponsorship for either Indy or Daytona (although that one year at Sebring was well-funded enough to finish second; would have won but for a blockage in the refueling hose in hour 11 making the final pit stop take an extra lap...) - he nods.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," Patrick says politely. "Is there anything the matter?"
Charisma+Socialise → [10, 4, 7, 5, 10, 3, 4] = (2)
Dangit... Patrick thinks to himself as the cop walks over. He wanted to avoid attention - although, of course, if the cops were already looking at him, that might make any needed deception easier.
of course, he also realises that since Lace and Kase are already in the 'Vette, and Stingrays only have two seats, well, either he'll have to stop to pick somebody up or Corvette accomodations will get cozy.
The weirdo with the hot dog gets an appropriately weird look, and he shakes his head as he sets the phone down, reaching for the window crank and, well, cranking it a moment after the officer raps on the window. Putting on his best smile - one the ladies tended to appreciate, but the corporate boards never really appreciated enough to land that breakthrough sponsorship for either Indy or Daytona (although that one year at Sebring was well-funded enough to finish second; would have won but for a blockage in the refueling hose in hour 11 making the final pit stop take an extra lap...) - he nods.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," Patrick says politely. "Is there anything the matter?"
Charisma+Socialise → [10, 4, 7, 5, 10, 3, 4] = (2)
Bad puns rule! Not sure if you meant I was supposed to roll perception or you did for me - which is cool.
Also, couldn't remember if we're supposed to roll against difficulty 7 or 8, so I made it against 8 - if it's 7, there's an extra success.
Also, couldn't remember if we're supposed to roll against difficulty 7 or 8, so I made it against 8 - if it's 7, there's an extra success.
Patrick
The cop smiles back. "Well, you're in a no parking zone. There isn't much traffic though, and as long as you don't talk to a while it shouldn't be an issue. Just make sure you don't-"
The weirdo with the pelvic twitch repeats his gesture, this time with even more enthusiasm. In fact, he gyrates so forcefully that he throws himself off balance and catches his toe on a gutter. Arms flailing he slips and face plants into the windshield of a parked Maurader hard enough to send spiderwebbing cracks through the safety glass. Those things don't break easily. There's a moment's silence as the cop stops her half-hearted chastisement. Then the swearing starts.
You've worked around garages, pits, and more recently docks. You've seen people swear before. This is different. This wierdo lets loose a stream of blistering invective that blows your mind. It's an opera of profanity, a symphony of cursing, Beethoven's ninth with the choral arrangement replaced with an F cluster bomb. By the time someone gets out of the Mercury, the ascending crescendo of obscene lanuage has reached levels usually reserved for he condemnations of an angry god. Parents shield their children's sensitive ears. The cop blinks and forgets all about you, turning to go intervene in this developing situation.
The cop smiles back. "Well, you're in a no parking zone. There isn't much traffic though, and as long as you don't talk to a while it shouldn't be an issue. Just make sure you don't-"
The weirdo with the pelvic twitch repeats his gesture, this time with even more enthusiasm. In fact, he gyrates so forcefully that he throws himself off balance and catches his toe on a gutter. Arms flailing he slips and face plants into the windshield of a parked Maurader hard enough to send spiderwebbing cracks through the safety glass. Those things don't break easily. There's a moment's silence as the cop stops her half-hearted chastisement. Then the swearing starts.
You've worked around garages, pits, and more recently docks. You've seen people swear before. This is different. This wierdo lets loose a stream of blistering invective that blows your mind. It's an opera of profanity, a symphony of cursing, Beethoven's ninth with the choral arrangement replaced with an F cluster bomb. By the time someone gets out of the Mercury, the ascending crescendo of obscene lanuage has reached levels usually reserved for he condemnations of an angry god. Parents shield their children's sensitive ears. The cop blinks and forgets all about you, turning to go intervene in this developing situation.
Bushranger: Essence + Integrity please.
Arynne
Salmon of Doubt
Erin
Erin has had enough of running, and she's sick of feeling scared. Behind one of the stacks, she holds her wooden sword-club ready...
lordofthestorm
A Great Big Goose, Clad in Orange
Kase continued prowling through the stacks, searching for his target. How on earth was he supposed to find her in the middle of all these books? For all he knew, he could be getting whacked over the head in two minutes. There was too much at stake to actually go searching for her. He could always double back, let her regroup and then trying to come for her once she left...
No.
No quitting. Kase knew better than to take risks heedlessly, but this was one situation it couldn't be afforded not to. Besides, he was going to put aside this life to become a fighter in a war he couldn't begin to describe. A risk not taken could be even more dangerous than taking one without regard for the consequences.
Time to put logic aside. Time for action.
He slowed his pace, peeking around a corner, waiting for the unknown.
No.
No quitting. Kase knew better than to take risks heedlessly, but this was one situation it couldn't be afforded not to. Besides, he was going to put aside this life to become a fighter in a war he couldn't begin to describe. A risk not taken could be even more dangerous than taking one without regard for the consequences.
Time to put logic aside. Time for action.
He slowed his pace, peeking around a corner, waiting for the unknown.
The Bushranger
Member
Patrick
Patrick's upcoming apology and promise to head out as soon as he's done with the phone gets cut off by Superbad doing his patented Pelvic Faceplant into the brand-new, sleek black Mercury muscle sedan, and he, as well as the cop, can do nothing but stare in shock.
And then when the air around the fellow starts turning seriously blue, he winces, hard. Yeah, he'd been around a lot of cursing, even done some in his time (usually shortly following dropping a tire iron on his foot; the McManusian Crotch Hop following hammering a thumb was also a classic). But this...is something else. And, as he stares, something quietly clicks in his mind. The sudden appearance of a weirdo, who seems to be trying to distract him, and who is now swearing to high heaven over having merely tripped...
merer drunk would do, even hopped up on hot dogs...
For a moment, he sits there, eyes open but almost not seeing, as something, unbidden, flashes through his mind. A mighty sword, a rapier like four feet of gleaming gold - no, not gold, the word is almost on the tip of his mind but slips away like sand through his fingers - and his opponent, swearing roundly, vicisously, as blood spurs from a slice on his shoulder the sword just delivered -
- and then he's back to normal, the cursing strange stranger, and the lady cop headed in his direction.
Oh, crap.
Charlie has just entered stage right, and he cuts a mean Fox-trot.
Leaning forwards as the officer steps away, Patrick reaches under the passenger's seat, pushing the pressure-point to open the storage compartment underneath it, the drawer springing open and revealing the Desert Eagle stashed inside, even as his eyes flick down the roadside, looking for cover points - the cherry trees lining the street don't offer much with their skinny trunks, although the crepe myrtles in between might be a bit better what with their multiple trunks offering deflection possibilities. The parking meters and no-parking signs, of course, are right out...and so he leaves the gun in place for now, instead straightening up and putting his hand on the key, not turning it yet but ready to crank at a moment's notice.
With his feet poised over the gas and clutch pedals, and the wheel pointed straight ahead - straight at the Marauder and Freakazoid.
Essence+Integrity+Stunt → [10, 4, 6, 10, 6] = (2)
Patrick's upcoming apology and promise to head out as soon as he's done with the phone gets cut off by Superbad doing his patented Pelvic Faceplant into the brand-new, sleek black Mercury muscle sedan, and he, as well as the cop, can do nothing but stare in shock.
And then when the air around the fellow starts turning seriously blue, he winces, hard. Yeah, he'd been around a lot of cursing, even done some in his time (usually shortly following dropping a tire iron on his foot; the McManusian Crotch Hop following hammering a thumb was also a classic). But this...is something else. And, as he stares, something quietly clicks in his mind. The sudden appearance of a weirdo, who seems to be trying to distract him, and who is now swearing to high heaven over having merely tripped...
merer drunk would do, even hopped up on hot dogs...
For a moment, he sits there, eyes open but almost not seeing, as something, unbidden, flashes through his mind. A mighty sword, a rapier like four feet of gleaming gold - no, not gold, the word is almost on the tip of his mind but slips away like sand through his fingers - and his opponent, swearing roundly, vicisously, as blood spurs from a slice on his shoulder the sword just delivered -
- and then he's back to normal, the cursing strange stranger, and the lady cop headed in his direction.
Oh, crap.
Charlie has just entered stage right, and he cuts a mean Fox-trot.
Leaning forwards as the officer steps away, Patrick reaches under the passenger's seat, pushing the pressure-point to open the storage compartment underneath it, the drawer springing open and revealing the Desert Eagle stashed inside, even as his eyes flick down the roadside, looking for cover points - the cherry trees lining the street don't offer much with their skinny trunks, although the crepe myrtles in between might be a bit better what with their multiple trunks offering deflection possibilities. The parking meters and no-parking signs, of course, are right out...and so he leaves the gun in place for now, instead straightening up and putting his hand on the key, not turning it yet but ready to crank at a moment's notice.
With his feet poised over the gas and clutch pedals, and the wheel pointed straight ahead - straight at the Marauder and Freakazoid.
Essence+Integrity+Stunt → [10, 4, 6, 10, 6] = (2)
I've assumed a 1d stunt, I won't complain if you think it's 2d tho.
I'm going to err on the side of letting you two resolve this.
Kase manages to follow Erin through the stacks until she disappears behind a low shelf. Normally this floor has soaring ceilings, but here the stacks are low, steel roofed, and set two floors to a standard story. Thus the aisles are small, and your hair brushes the struts above. Kase sees a dim section of old literature around the corner, and knows Erin must be hiding back there somewhere. It's either romance literature of the high renaissance or programming language manuals. He does not know Erin's lurking within with her back to heavily laden shelves. She's very well concealed.
Kase manages to follow Erin through the stacks until she disappears behind a low shelf. Normally this floor has soaring ceilings, but here the stacks are low, steel roofed, and set two floors to a standard story. Thus the aisles are small, and your hair brushes the struts above. Kase sees a dim section of old literature around the corner, and knows Erin must be hiding back there somewhere. It's either romance literature of the high renaissance or programming language manuals. He does not know Erin's lurking within with her back to heavily laden shelves. She's very well concealed.
Patrick
The antics draw your attention as powerfully as the cop's, though you remain stationary while she scurries over to intercede. You're staring at the Marauder as the sudden thought hits you, why didn't you notice this before? I mean, it's a Marauder. These aren't exactly popular cars under any circumstances, being over powered with mediocre handling. They're basically just civilian versions of interceptors. But what they absolutely, positively are are the kind of thing you checked the street for before and just- well- didn't notice.
Oh, it was there. It didn't appear out of thin air or anything. You just overlooked it.
But now you're looking for them, and there's another. Up the block, sitting by the curb across the street, looking down at the front of the library, it's crouching by the roadside. The thing is sitting in the shadow of a line of shade trees with its engine is producing a low grumble of white noise that you pick out from the background. Both it and the one Freakazoid face planted into are running quietly. Which is totally reasonable for a car with a 429 V8 on a warm day when you wouldn't need either AC or heat. You're not sure if it's the '69 or '70. There isn't a huge difference between them anyway, so it may not really matter.
Meanwhile the cop is trying to shut the freak up. While he's not being directly confrontational, he also isn't calming down, and he's yelling a lot at what seems to be the world in general. You can see the cop trying to figure out if she's got justification to tase the guy, but holding off for now. The dude is up and leaning against a parking meter while he continues his tirade, though slightly subdued.
The antics draw your attention as powerfully as the cop's, though you remain stationary while she scurries over to intercede. You're staring at the Marauder as the sudden thought hits you, why didn't you notice this before? I mean, it's a Marauder. These aren't exactly popular cars under any circumstances, being over powered with mediocre handling. They're basically just civilian versions of interceptors. But what they absolutely, positively are are the kind of thing you checked the street for before and just- well- didn't notice.
Oh, it was there. It didn't appear out of thin air or anything. You just overlooked it.
But now you're looking for them, and there's another. Up the block, sitting by the curb across the street, looking down at the front of the library, it's crouching by the roadside. The thing is sitting in the shadow of a line of shade trees with its engine is producing a low grumble of white noise that you pick out from the background. Both it and the one Freakazoid face planted into are running quietly. Which is totally reasonable for a car with a 429 V8 on a warm day when you wouldn't need either AC or heat. You're not sure if it's the '69 or '70. There isn't a huge difference between them anyway, so it may not really matter.
Meanwhile the cop is trying to shut the freak up. While he's not being directly confrontational, he also isn't calming down, and he's yelling a lot at what seems to be the world in general. You can see the cop trying to figure out if she's got justification to tase the guy, but holding off for now. The dude is up and leaning against a parking meter while he continues his tirade, though slightly subdued.
Bushranger said:
Arynne
Salmon of Doubt
When Kase enters the narrow aisle, Erin springs her trap. A jab of a button, and the shelves begin, slowly but inexorably, to slide together, trapping Kase between them.
Crash! Erin has moved most of the books to the very edge of the shelves; the jolting movement shakes them loose, causing the heavy volumes to come raining down onto him.
Crash! Erin has moved most of the books to the very edge of the shelves; the jolting movement shakes them loose, causing the heavy volumes to come raining down onto him.
Yes, I know the Nags Head library probably doesn't have shelves like these. Rule of Drama.
lordofthestorm
A Great Big Goose, Clad in Orange
"Holy-!"
Kase had to think fast. The shelves were coming together. He only had a short time before he ended up becoming a SoCal sandwich between them. He immediately started running back the way he came. He also unslung the claymore on his back, holding it up hilt-side-up so the branching hilt would jam the bookshelves if they got too close.
Then the books started falling. A couple of them landed right on his head, causing him to misstep a couple of times. It was going to be close...!
Kase had to think fast. The shelves were coming together. He only had a short time before he ended up becoming a SoCal sandwich between them. He immediately started running back the way he came. He also unslung the claymore on his back, holding it up hilt-side-up so the branching hilt would jam the bookshelves if they got too close.
Then the books started falling. A couple of them landed right on his head, causing him to misstep a couple of times. It was going to be close...!
The Bushranger
Member
Patrick
Well, well, well. It looks like we're not the only ones here to this little party, Patrick muses to himself as he watches the cop deal with the man, feeling a strange urge to help the woman with the potentially dangerous dude, but the need to complete 'The Mission' warring with it and essentially cancelling it out. For now. He debates calling Kase's phone with a warning, but decides against it. But now he knows. And knowing is half the battle.
And when you know there's a trap, sometimes the best way to defeat the trap, is to spring it.
He looks back down to his cellphone, resuming his fiddling - no longer with his hand on the key, of course, but with his feet poised over the pedals in readiness. Looking up occasionally at the cop and the madman - and, as discreetly as he can, at the pair of Marauders.
Your move, boys.
Well, well, well. It looks like we're not the only ones here to this little party, Patrick muses to himself as he watches the cop deal with the man, feeling a strange urge to help the woman with the potentially dangerous dude, but the need to complete 'The Mission' warring with it and essentially cancelling it out. For now. He debates calling Kase's phone with a warning, but decides against it. But now he knows. And knowing is half the battle.
And when you know there's a trap, sometimes the best way to defeat the trap, is to spring it.
He looks back down to his cellphone, resuming his fiddling - no longer with his hand on the key, of course, but with his feet poised over the pedals in readiness. Looking up occasionally at the cop and the madman - and, as discreetly as he can, at the pair of Marauders.
Your move, boys.
Got it. Thanks for the notes. I think I can work with that well.
Also, this was the kind of Mercury Marauder I was thinking of, but the 'classic' one works too, of course!
Also, this was the kind of Mercury Marauder I was thinking of, but the 'classic' one works too, of course!
Erin, Kase
Books come tumbling down. Kase jukes underneath a cascade of spy novels and only takes a hit from The Life of Pi. It doesn't hurt though because it's light fiction. Beyond that is a rain of Britannica though, and the young man from California grits his teeth as he surges through. Thick encylcopedia spines crash into his head now, and these are the old kind with stout bindings. The constant thud of them beats your skull like a good base line. But then you're free and clear as the the swinging stacks crash into the Heartbreaker's spreading hilt. It's an old style with nearly a foot of span, and the well forged steel blocks the underpowered motor from crushing you. You have to roll forward and under, but then yank the sword free. It's hard, but not impossible.
Now Kase stands by the door. Behind you is the chaos of a dozen shuffling stacks and the grinding whir of angry geriatric machinery. You see movement in there somewhere, and bouncing brown hair. Out the door you've escaped too is the main library, where monolithic lines of oak bookshelves march along in stately silence. There's yelling from somewhere else in the library, and you think the little old lady behind the desk is probably really mad.
Books come tumbling down. Kase jukes underneath a cascade of spy novels and only takes a hit from The Life of Pi. It doesn't hurt though because it's light fiction. Beyond that is a rain of Britannica though, and the young man from California grits his teeth as he surges through. Thick encylcopedia spines crash into his head now, and these are the old kind with stout bindings. The constant thud of them beats your skull like a good base line. But then you're free and clear as the the swinging stacks crash into the Heartbreaker's spreading hilt. It's an old style with nearly a foot of span, and the well forged steel blocks the underpowered motor from crushing you. You have to roll forward and under, but then yank the sword free. It's hard, but not impossible.
Now Kase stands by the door. Behind you is the chaos of a dozen shuffling stacks and the grinding whir of angry geriatric machinery. You see movement in there somewhere, and bouncing brown hair. Out the door you've escaped too is the main library, where monolithic lines of oak bookshelves march along in stately silence. There's yelling from somewhere else in the library, and you think the little old lady behind the desk is probably really mad.
Arynne: As long as it doesn't appear in the Ink Monkeys! Actually, that's one of the things I love about Exalted: forcing odd rolling combinations. Actually, you should roll Dex + Dodge as well. Difficulty only one for not getting caught in your own trap.
Lord of the Storm: Stamina + Resistance at difficulty three please. Failure means you take some bashing damage from the cascade though nothing too serious. Dostoevsky is on the far side.
Lord of the Storm: Stamina + Resistance at difficulty three please. Failure means you take some bashing damage from the cascade though nothing too serious. Dostoevsky is on the far side.
Patrick
Freako breaks his impasse with the cop as well as the Maurader's hood with an ornate trashcan. The windshield had been messed up before, but dude rips the square waste bucket up and starts wailing on the hood with it. Metal bugles, hinges snap, and the whole hood twists like ripples running through a lake. To your ear you hear the engine suddenly sound of weird as you realize he must have crushed the carburetor. Horrible, ghastly noises rip through the street. The engine sounds bad too, but its the swearing that blows your hair back.
"Oh, ---- this, you're going down buddy," snaps the cop and she whips out her taser. The freak waves at the parking meter at her. She zaps him at point blank range. You half expect to hear zap sounds, but that only happens in Loony Tunes.
The freak freezes. Every muscle in his body flexes, and his face goes into a manic rictus. You see veins pop out of his face, his head turn purple, and the can falls to the ground. He can't even make noise with the tines sunk deep in his chest, 50,000 volts sending amperage coursing through his lung muscles. God, that looks like it hurts.
But the crazy dude doesn't go down. For a full four seconds he stands there, immobilized by fury and pain. You see surprise flitter across the woman's face, followed by concern, and then shock and fear. The freak finally manages to turn his head to face her, and his expression is demonic. Her hand spasms in panic on the trigger, and she sets it to ram another thirty seconds of juice after the first four second ride. Instead of crumpling he charges. She's too surprised and confused to dodge.
Cops have to ride a taser to use one, and very few people who get that unique experience aren't somewhat colored by it. They all expect everyone to go down as hard as they did. But this dude transitions from an articulate rage to incoherent yowls of inchoate madness that fill the air with omens of what is to come. Flailing he grabs the line and yanks, ripping bits of flesh from himself with the barbs, and wildly throws them at the cop. Something in her snaps back to reality, and she bolts.
The people in the car still have not emerged.
As the cop dives out of the way she goes for her shoulder mic and starts yelling at dispatch. The wacko charges past and, of course, runs up the hood of your car. You hear heavy footsteps bending up the roof and then the whole vehicle starts swaying. It's bucking side to side as the passenger on the upper deck throws himself around, letting out primal howls like a gorilla. Sanity has not only left the building but taken the red-eye to Cincinnati.
Meanwhile looking out the bucking windshield, you can clearly see the cop's eyes. The thought 'PCP' runs across her mind so clearly you may have suddenly gained telepathy. She has a hand on her piece but doesn't draw it. It's not a terribly crowded street, but it's crowded enough. Not to mention you, of course. You're slightly below the line of fire, but the distinction doesn't seem that important right now. She's worried about blasting away in case her nine can't put him down.
Of course, this still leaves your in a rather interesting predicament.
Freako breaks his impasse with the cop as well as the Maurader's hood with an ornate trashcan. The windshield had been messed up before, but dude rips the square waste bucket up and starts wailing on the hood with it. Metal bugles, hinges snap, and the whole hood twists like ripples running through a lake. To your ear you hear the engine suddenly sound of weird as you realize he must have crushed the carburetor. Horrible, ghastly noises rip through the street. The engine sounds bad too, but its the swearing that blows your hair back.
"Oh, ---- this, you're going down buddy," snaps the cop and she whips out her taser. The freak waves at the parking meter at her. She zaps him at point blank range. You half expect to hear zap sounds, but that only happens in Loony Tunes.
The freak freezes. Every muscle in his body flexes, and his face goes into a manic rictus. You see veins pop out of his face, his head turn purple, and the can falls to the ground. He can't even make noise with the tines sunk deep in his chest, 50,000 volts sending amperage coursing through his lung muscles. God, that looks like it hurts.
But the crazy dude doesn't go down. For a full four seconds he stands there, immobilized by fury and pain. You see surprise flitter across the woman's face, followed by concern, and then shock and fear. The freak finally manages to turn his head to face her, and his expression is demonic. Her hand spasms in panic on the trigger, and she sets it to ram another thirty seconds of juice after the first four second ride. Instead of crumpling he charges. She's too surprised and confused to dodge.
Cops have to ride a taser to use one, and very few people who get that unique experience aren't somewhat colored by it. They all expect everyone to go down as hard as they did. But this dude transitions from an articulate rage to incoherent yowls of inchoate madness that fill the air with omens of what is to come. Flailing he grabs the line and yanks, ripping bits of flesh from himself with the barbs, and wildly throws them at the cop. Something in her snaps back to reality, and she bolts.
The people in the car still have not emerged.
As the cop dives out of the way she goes for her shoulder mic and starts yelling at dispatch. The wacko charges past and, of course, runs up the hood of your car. You hear heavy footsteps bending up the roof and then the whole vehicle starts swaying. It's bucking side to side as the passenger on the upper deck throws himself around, letting out primal howls like a gorilla. Sanity has not only left the building but taken the red-eye to Cincinnati.
Meanwhile looking out the bucking windshield, you can clearly see the cop's eyes. The thought 'PCP' runs across her mind so clearly you may have suddenly gained telepathy. She has a hand on her piece but doesn't draw it. It's not a terribly crowded street, but it's crowded enough. Not to mention you, of course. You're slightly below the line of fire, but the distinction doesn't seem that important right now. She's worried about blasting away in case her nine can't put him down.
Of course, this still leaves your in a rather interesting predicament.
Yeah, I just wanted the car to have a carburetor for the obvious reasons.
Arynne
Salmon of Doubt
Time to move, Erin thinks. Left towards that squeaky shelf that slides slower than the others -- right towards the one that never closes all the way -- down to the broken shelf that has a huge gap in the bottom that even her well-built self can squeeze through -- and out on the far side. A tumbling volume of Borges rebounds painfully off her shoulder, and she has to duck her head quickly to avoid being beaned with a hardback edition of The Name of the Rose, but she makes it through unscathed.
She had considered simply lurking behind a shelf and bashing her pursuer over the head, but the stomach-churning memory of the carnage she witnessed earlier held her hand. And anyway, she might get blood on the books.
She had considered simply lurking behind a shelf and bashing her pursuer over the head, but the stomach-churning memory of the carnage she witnessed earlier held her hand. And anyway, she might get blood on the books.
Erin
You scamper through the wreckage and tumbling literature to make your way to the back of the stacks. As you well know there is a fire exit back here that leads to the encircling reading room. That will have people and a measure of safety as a result. Nothing hits you that's serious enough to cause damage. You seem to be free and clear.
You scamper through the wreckage and tumbling literature to make your way to the back of the stacks. As you well know there is a fire exit back here that leads to the encircling reading room. That will have people and a measure of safety as a result. Nothing hits you that's serious enough to cause damage. You seem to be free and clear.
I had some great Flemish puns here I took the high road on and didn't use. You're welcome. Anyway, your action and as before, post either Dex + Survival or Dex + Athletics depending on your course. If you want to do something crazy, we'll work out what the roll is later.
Kase is across the room at this point. The moving shelving is effectively blocking the path, though you might be able to make it through if you try. If he waits a bit he can go across safely, but she'll have a good head start at that point.
Kase is across the room at this point. The moving shelving is effectively blocking the path, though you might be able to make it through if you try. If he waits a bit he can go across safely, but she'll have a good head start at that point.
lordofthestorm
A Great Big Goose, Clad in Orange
Rolling Stamina + Resistance...
4d10=BOTCH.
That's gonna leave a mark.
Kase liked books. All things considered, books were a free ride to some way out of writer's block or just a good way to pass the time once in a while. However, this was not one of those times.
He had managed to escape most of the barrage, except for maybe one or two encyclopedias that had bounced off his head. His head was ringing, but it was no different than when he worked at the college bookstore back home and one or two textbooks he'd been stacking for online orders fell on him. At least, he hoped it stayed that way.
His target was making his way through the stacks he had just escaped out of. The shelving was still moving, but at least he didn't have to put up with the falling books anymore. He could attempt to intercept her, and thankfully, he still had Athena on his side. Time to rumble. So, he took off.
4d10=BOTCH.
That's gonna leave a mark.
Kase liked books. All things considered, books were a free ride to some way out of writer's block or just a good way to pass the time once in a while. However, this was not one of those times.
He had managed to escape most of the barrage, except for maybe one or two encyclopedias that had bounced off his head. His head was ringing, but it was no different than when he worked at the college bookstore back home and one or two textbooks he'd been stacking for online orders fell on him. At least, he hoped it stayed that way.
His target was making his way through the stacks he had just escaped out of. The shelving was still moving, but at least he didn't have to put up with the falling books anymore. He could attempt to intercept her, and thankfully, he still had Athena on his side. Time to rumble. So, he took off.
The Bushranger
Member
Patrick
Patrick watches the scene before him play out, and grits his teeth, hissing in dismay as something deep in his psyche, perhaps, reacts - and on a more consious level, the 'the world is older than you know...' speech Jack and Jill back at the shop gave him runs through his mind.
At the moment, he'd place a goodly-sized bet that the guy isn't hopped up at all - or at least on something less...worldly than mere PCP.
This doesn't resolve the issue of big dude on car-top, though. And in a sudden flash of motion, the cellphone lands in the passenger's seat, and the driver's window goes down a little, even as Patrick gives a quiet thanks for having installed the aftermarket power windows awhile back.
"Take him down in three!" he shouts to the lady cop, ready to play 'common enemies' at least for the moment.
One
Even as the window comes back up, Patrick takes stock of the streetscape. Thankfully the street is rather quiet traffic-wise, and the few pedestrians doing whatever shopping or mere browsing they were here for look to have taken the sensible course of action and fled. There is a Yugo coming up the street, but the light just turned yellow...
Two
...and now red. Good, he's stopping. Patrick's hand, on the key, twists it and the Hemi roars to life. A quick judgement is made of the space between his No-Parked Challenger and the wounded Marauder - there appears to be enough, and the Pontiac Lemans parked across the street - one of those weird little Canadian jobs they sold up in the frozen north after yoinking the model from the American market - will either have to be 'out of the way' or 'acceptable collateral damage from being a Korean econobox hit by a solid steel muscle car' -
Three
And as the third 'Mississippi' ticks over in the racer's brain, the clutch comes out and the gas goes in.
ALL THE WAY in, as it were.
The sudden full-throttle roar of classic Motown V-8 makes the various glass fronts of the stores lining the street rattle, and the Challenger's rear tires start doing their very best to kill every mosquito from here to Wilmington. Even as Pat yanks the steering wheel over hard left, the combination of steering input and <1% traction on the rear tires, combined with a jab of the brakes even as the throttle stays at WOT, sending the vehicle around in the classic 'Zanardi doughnut', and forwards just enough that - combined with the shot he expects the cop to be taking on King Kong up there - it should knock the gorilla-man off his balance and down onto the asphalt, preferably with a hole he didn't have before, while also avoiding the parked Marauder, avoiding the cop, and aiming the Challenger straight back at where the freak is likely to land.
Assuming everything goes according to plan, of course.
Dexterity+Ride (Drive)+2d stunt → [4, 7, 5, 5, 7, 8, 4, 10, 10, 5, 5] = (5)
Patrick watches the scene before him play out, and grits his teeth, hissing in dismay as something deep in his psyche, perhaps, reacts - and on a more consious level, the 'the world is older than you know...' speech Jack and Jill back at the shop gave him runs through his mind.
At the moment, he'd place a goodly-sized bet that the guy isn't hopped up at all - or at least on something less...worldly than mere PCP.
This doesn't resolve the issue of big dude on car-top, though. And in a sudden flash of motion, the cellphone lands in the passenger's seat, and the driver's window goes down a little, even as Patrick gives a quiet thanks for having installed the aftermarket power windows awhile back.
"Take him down in three!" he shouts to the lady cop, ready to play 'common enemies' at least for the moment.
One
Even as the window comes back up, Patrick takes stock of the streetscape. Thankfully the street is rather quiet traffic-wise, and the few pedestrians doing whatever shopping or mere browsing they were here for look to have taken the sensible course of action and fled. There is a Yugo coming up the street, but the light just turned yellow...
Two
...and now red. Good, he's stopping. Patrick's hand, on the key, twists it and the Hemi roars to life. A quick judgement is made of the space between his No-Parked Challenger and the wounded Marauder - there appears to be enough, and the Pontiac Lemans parked across the street - one of those weird little Canadian jobs they sold up in the frozen north after yoinking the model from the American market - will either have to be 'out of the way' or 'acceptable collateral damage from being a Korean econobox hit by a solid steel muscle car' -
Three
And as the third 'Mississippi' ticks over in the racer's brain, the clutch comes out and the gas goes in.
ALL THE WAY in, as it were.
The sudden full-throttle roar of classic Motown V-8 makes the various glass fronts of the stores lining the street rattle, and the Challenger's rear tires start doing their very best to kill every mosquito from here to Wilmington. Even as Pat yanks the steering wheel over hard left, the combination of steering input and <1% traction on the rear tires, combined with a jab of the brakes even as the throttle stays at WOT, sending the vehicle around in the classic 'Zanardi doughnut', and forwards just enough that - combined with the shot he expects the cop to be taking on King Kong up there - it should knock the gorilla-man off his balance and down onto the asphalt, preferably with a hole he didn't have before, while also avoiding the parked Marauder, avoiding the cop, and aiming the Challenger straight back at where the freak is likely to land.
Assuming everything goes according to plan, of course.
Dexterity+Ride (Drive)+2d stunt → [4, 7, 5, 5, 7, 8, 4, 10, 10, 5, 5] = (5)
Heh. It's a fair cop. Or should I say carb?
Arynne
Salmon of Doubt
Erin
Erin yanks open the fire exit, setting off alarms, but does not go through it. Leaving it open, she spins around and climbs up one of the stepladders the librarians use to access the higher shelves. With some effort, she hauls herself onto the top of a shelf. There's just enough room between there and the ceiling for her and her bag. A hard shove, and the wheeled ladder rolls down to the far end of the shelf. She crouches, keeping very still, and waits.
Erin yanks open the fire exit, setting off alarms, but does not go through it. Leaving it open, she spins around and climbs up one of the stepladders the librarians use to access the higher shelves. With some effort, she hauls herself onto the top of a shelf. There's just enough room between there and the ceiling for her and her bag. A hard shove, and the wheeled ladder rolls down to the far end of the shelf. She crouches, keeping very still, and waits.
Right, so Merry Christmas to all who observe such things. Let's get back to hitting people with cars.
Patrick
The car squeals, lurches around, and the guy doing the King Kong impersonation on the roof babbles something as he tumbles off sideways. You can see him clearly through your passenger window, rolling across the asphalt and yowling. The cop lines up her shot and yells something.
This brings the wackjob's attention back to her, and for a split instant he pauses, glaring, while hunched over. His face moves oddly, like it's got more muscles then it should, and the two wounds on his chest from the taser's darts bleed through the holes in his shirt. You skid off sideways, tracking him across the mirror and over to your windshield. The view is perfect as you see the guy tense himself and charge forward to get blasted. He stumbles and rolls, and then you're looking out, inches away from him. You swing in, he spots you at the last minute, and then you make eye contact with pure crazy.
He winks.
Several thousand pounds of mopar slam into him. The beast isn't moving that fast, but there's a lot of it. There's enough to fling the dude across the sidewalk and through the plate glass of the diner he so recently exited. There's a shower of glass, and some people run out screaming, getting in the cops way as she tries to bolt in after him. The street is full of yelling now.
Two oddly androgynous figures in black suits emerge, bespectacled in dark shades. As the waves of worried citizenry rush by, they merge easily into the crowd. They walk casually up towards the library and head in. Behind them, next to you, their vehicle finally gives up the ghost and the broken engine gurgles itself to a sudden halt, followed only by unpleasant rattling.
Patrick
The car squeals, lurches around, and the guy doing the King Kong impersonation on the roof babbles something as he tumbles off sideways. You can see him clearly through your passenger window, rolling across the asphalt and yowling. The cop lines up her shot and yells something.
This brings the wackjob's attention back to her, and for a split instant he pauses, glaring, while hunched over. His face moves oddly, like it's got more muscles then it should, and the two wounds on his chest from the taser's darts bleed through the holes in his shirt. You skid off sideways, tracking him across the mirror and over to your windshield. The view is perfect as you see the guy tense himself and charge forward to get blasted. He stumbles and rolls, and then you're looking out, inches away from him. You swing in, he spots you at the last minute, and then you make eye contact with pure crazy.
He winks.
Several thousand pounds of mopar slam into him. The beast isn't moving that fast, but there's a lot of it. There's enough to fling the dude across the sidewalk and through the plate glass of the diner he so recently exited. There's a shower of glass, and some people run out screaming, getting in the cops way as she tries to bolt in after him. The street is full of yelling now.
Two oddly androgynous figures in black suits emerge, bespectacled in dark shades. As the waves of worried citizenry rush by, they merge easily into the crowd. They walk casually up towards the library and head in. Behind them, next to you, their vehicle finally gives up the ghost and the broken engine gurgles itself to a sudden halt, followed only by unpleasant rattling.
Kase, Erin
Take level of bashing damage and a -1 wound penalty as a crippling effect on top of that. You might have a concussion.
It takes a moment or so for the fire alarms to distinguish themselves from the ringing in your ears. Things were a little indistinct for a bit. Oddly enough it wasn't immediately after taking the book that things got weird, but several seconds later that you realized you had no idea what was going on. After a few breaths you get a grip on things again and take off. You can see the fire exit swinging open on the far side of the room.
The sprinklers don't go off. As a precaution the library sprinklers have to be activated by the fire department. Reasonably, given the situation. Annoying now, though, as Erin doesn't have nearly the cover she might otherwise. Looking down, she can see Kase get beaned and wobble for a moment, well outside range of even a well thrown book. Then he shakes his head and seems to get it together. He goes darting through the stacks, looking for her.
Erin: Dex + Stealth for hiding. Dex + Survival is also applicable if you want to ambush.
Kase: Perception + Awareness
It takes a moment or so for the fire alarms to distinguish themselves from the ringing in your ears. Things were a little indistinct for a bit. Oddly enough it wasn't immediately after taking the book that things got weird, but several seconds later that you realized you had no idea what was going on. After a few breaths you get a grip on things again and take off. You can see the fire exit swinging open on the far side of the room.
The sprinklers don't go off. As a precaution the library sprinklers have to be activated by the fire department. Reasonably, given the situation. Annoying now, though, as Erin doesn't have nearly the cover she might otherwise. Looking down, she can see Kase get beaned and wobble for a moment, well outside range of even a well thrown book. Then he shakes his head and seems to get it together. He goes darting through the stacks, looking for her.
Erin: Dex + Stealth for hiding. Dex + Survival is also applicable if you want to ambush.
Kase: Perception + Awareness
The Bushranger
Member
Patrick
A final pump of the gas sends the Challenger skidding back sideways out of the street, and into a more-or-less 'parked' position, as Patrick makes a quick check to see if the radiator just got damaged.
Again.
...and catches his breath for a moment, debating what to do next. Part of his mind says that the whole thing is screwed - while the other points out that, well, he is providing a significant distraction...
...and as the two Guys in Black heading into the Library sink in, he grabs his phone and quickly dials the number of the phone Kase has, letting it ring once - the inverse of the signal they'd arranged. He hopes the young man can take a hint...
A final pump of the gas sends the Challenger skidding back sideways out of the street, and into a more-or-less 'parked' position, as Patrick makes a quick check to see if the radiator just got damaged.
Again.
...and catches his breath for a moment, debating what to do next. Part of his mind says that the whole thing is screwed - while the other points out that, well, he is providing a significant distraction...
...and as the two Guys in Black heading into the Library sink in, he grabs his phone and quickly dials the number of the phone Kase has, letting it ring once - the inverse of the signal they'd arranged. He hopes the young man can take a hint...
