.png "English"){kind=small}
Session 8: The Troy Hill Welcome Wagon
The ceiling of the bakery van buckled inward with a terrifying shriek of tearing metal. Long, black talons pierced straight through the thin roof lining right between Danny and Sally's heads. The smell of rotten river mud filled the cab. It was a desperate situation—if they didn't pull off a miracle right now, the roof would give way.
“Sally! Hold the wheel dead center!” Danny shouted over the roar of the engine, his eyes fixed on the illuminated, open bay doors of the warehouse. “I'm flooring the gas to build momentum, and the second we clear the threshold, I'm slamming the brakes! Hold on to something!”
Sally nodded frantically, locking her elbows as she braced her feet against the dashboard. Danny hammered his foot onto the accelerator, sending the heavy van hurtling into the warehouse bay like a runaway train. Just as the nose cleared the heavy iron garage door frame, Danny yelled, “NOW!” and stomped his boot down onto the brake pedal with every ounce of football muscle he possessed.
The Stake: Because this combines a blind sprint, a perfectly timed communication, and a structural brake slam, the GM sets the complexity to Level 2 (4d6). Failure means a catastrophic crash or the monster breaches the cabin.
- Danny's Coordination Roll (Target 11): Rolls 4d6 → [2] + [3] + [1] + [2] = 8 (SUCCESS!)
- Sally's Bracing Roll (Target 13): Rolls 4d6 → [3] + [4] + [2] + [1] = 10 (SUCCESS!)
Result: Absolute coordination! Danny's brake slam is flawless, and Sally holds the vehicle steady through the deceleration.
Experience Gained: Danny earns 3 EP (11 - 8); Sally earns 3 EP (13 - 10).
The physics were brutal. The van's tires shrieked, smoking against the smooth concrete floor of the warehouse as the vehicle came to a dead stop. But the massive, seven-foot Reptoid on the roof was still traveling at forty miles an hour. With a wet, surprised screech, the monster lost its claw grip and launched forward over the windshield, crashing heavily into a towering stack of empty wooden shipping crates before tumbling onto the concrete floor.
The beast was dazed but incredibly tough. It shook its heavy, finned head, yellow eyes flashing with murderous intent as it began to push itself back up. But it hadn't realized that Danny and Sally weren't alone.
From the shadows of the warehouse, a battery of high-intensity halogen spotlights clicked on all at once, bathing the reptile in a blinding, overlapping crossfire of white light. The creature shrieked, burying its face in its scaly arms.
“Welcome to North Side, you overgrown gecko!” Uncle Morty’s voice boomed from the top of a flatbed truck.
Suddenly, three more figures stepped out from behind the concrete pillars. It was Uncle Morty's weekend survivalist crew: Carl, a retired machinist holding a heavy-barreled 12-gauge shotgun; Big Mike, a steel mill veteran wielding a rusted iron crowbar; and Brenda, a local hunting enthusiast tracking the beast through the scope of a high-powered hunting rifle.
“Light 'em up, boys!” Morty bellowed, racking his weapon.
Uncle Morty's crew opens fire on the blinded, dazed Reptoid at Close Range (-1 modifier to their rolls).
- Carl's Shotgun Attack (Target 12): Rolls 3d6 → [2] + [3] + [2] = 7 - 1 = 6 (Hit!). Damage: 4d6 → 14 points of damage!
Result: Carl's massive shotgun blast catches the creature squarely in the chest. (Reptoid HP: 8 → -6). The massive blast lifts the subterranean predator off its feet and drops it motionless onto the concrete floor, black fluid pooling around its scales.
The thunderous echo of the shotgun blast rolled through the hollow warehouse, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. The smell of sulfur and burnt gunpowder slowly replaced the foul stench of the sewers. Danny and Sally sat frozen in the battered delivery van, staring through the shattered glass at the dead monster.
Uncle Morty walked over, spitting a toothpick onto the floor as he patted the hood of the dented vehicle. “You kids did good. Real good. But don't get too comfortable,” he said, pointing his flashlight down toward the back corner of the warehouse where a low, heavy scratching sound was beginning to echo from an open floor drain. “That was just a scout. They know we're here now.”
0 comments:
Post a Comment