Bay 12 Games Forum

Does anyone know what I could use as a makeshift surgical probe, you know, for dissections? I have the scalpel/scissors/forceps covered, but I need to pithe it before I cut it open. Would a needle work?

I hope he's a troll, but people like that are out there. I doubt they'd be on the DF forums though.

NYC craiglist reveals dock warehouses for rent for as little as $1200 a month, but it'd probably be hard finding someone who'd accept wads of cash as payment. Plus if they're renting out their warehouses to a group of guys it's likely they'd want to know what you were using them for. Purchasing a small dock warehouse starts at like $125,000.

Wainting list please

Can you post a name/description for your character? You'll probably be recruited with Zako either next turn or the one after it.

Couchant
–adjective
1. lying down; crouching.

Well, a dream sword's better than nothing I suppose. I'll return to the cliff and try to find a way into the castle without being seen.

I don't start school until the 8th. Whoo, Canada, I guess?

Cyrus doesn't hesitate. His car door's open in a second and he's popped the hood, looking for what's gone wrong. The entire goddamned car is falling apart! He does what he can to cool it off, questioning his earlier state of mind. Everything he tries fails. He grabs an SMG (seems like an MP5) and peeks at the underside, looking for something that'd at least make the car run, even for just a few more miles.

"Cyrus, we're gonna leave first. We need to get get going right now," shouts Howard, grabbing the other MP5. He fumbles for a spare magazine inside the cartel member's suit then jogs over to the Altima, sliding into the uncomfortable middle backseat position. He's soon joined by Dan, Johnny, and Rolf, making an already uncomfortable situation even worse.
Alexander peeks back from the front seat, "Everyone in?" he asks. With a nod, he accelerates away from the scene of the deal. He takes an inconspicuous route next to the harbor, avoiding traffic and pedestrians.
Henry turns to face Alexander, "Don't stop this car for anything. Least of all to run someone over."
Rolf breaks the tension somewhat, "I wonder about Cyrus. He'll be fine, right? Can't see his headlights behind us yet."
"He'll take a different route, no doubt. It's up to him to dispose of that bloody car of mine. Hell, I just hope he tears off the license plates before he ditches it somewhere..."

Meanwhile, Cyrus' impromptu repairs are not going well. He's managed to lodge himself underneath the vehicle and as he struggles to free himself, his left hand gets caught somewhere. He tugs away hard, pulling it against something sharp, drawing blood.
"Shit..."
He struggles more. The car lurches forward, crushing his leg underneath its tire. There's absolutely no way he'll be able to free himself, barring displays of superhuman strength. To make matters worse, those headlights from before? They're here. Cops, too. Cyrus can just barely make out the insignia from the position on the ground he's in. It takes everything he has to keep from screaming out in pain. They haven't spotted him, he has an MP5 in his right hand. No idea how many rounds left in it, if any...

Alexander drives up to Henry's house, parking in his garage. The six of them bolt out, lugging the heavy cases into the shack. They're eager to open them up and see just what exactly they've made off with. Johnny drops the suitcases onto the round table with a bit of a thud, undoing the latches. They pop open easily enough. Case number one is filled with bags of a pure white powder. It probably hasn't been cut yet. Now, for the other case...

All eyes locked on case number two, Johnny unlatches it. He pulls the case open, revealing stacks of $20 bills. They're bundled in groups of 100 for easy counting, each bundle containing $2000. He empties the case out onto the table, the wads of cash splaying out. A cursory glance reveals at least 50 bundles, probably more.
"Holy shit."
"The Cartel's going to be pissed. One thing doesn't make sense, though. If the Gang had planned on ambushing the deal, why'd they bring this much money? Wouldn't it be safer to bring an empty case? More importantly, how the fuck did they get this much money in the first place? Is this all just from selling drugs?"
"I don't give a damn either way. We have $100,000 here, how much does each of us get?"
Silence for a moment as everyone did the math. Henry's the first to speak up.
"About $15,000 each, I suppose."
"Doesn't seem like as much as it did a few minutes ago," Dan says, frowning.
"Speaking of which, shouldn't Cyrus be here soon? Don't suppose he got picked up by the cops?"

---

Well, it's entirely possible we're dealing with a contract killer here, albeit an unprofessional one. The victims don't really match up. Someone from the company might have hired someone to get rid of the embezzler. Was there anyone with a grudge against the father? As for the security guard, have there been any thefts or recent layoffs at the warehouse?

Simon extends a hand out toward you, seeking to help you up off the ground. You clasp his hand in yours and pretend to have difficulty steadying yourself, leaning on him for support.
"Are you flirting with me?" you ask precariously, and as his face contorts in surprise you knee him in the stomach, deliver an overhand strike to the head, and then before he can react, smash a nearby stone into his skull with great force. He gasps for air, reaches for his axe but falls onto his back, his last vision of the sky before his eyelids close and he's lost into the realm of unconsciousness.

"Now we're even, I suppose," you say smugly, turning him over onto his back and tying his hands behind his back with rope. Not like that'll do much against a telekinetic, though. You tear off a piece of cloth from his leggings and use it to construct a makeshift blindfold. Unable to see or move, he'd risk maiming himself if he tried to cut himself free. You lift him onto your back, surprised by his heavy weight. Ugh. You briefly consider slicing off his head (it'd be a lot faster) but some part of you says to keep him alive. Well, whatever.

You survey the scene one final time, searching for your third blade. The bastard must've exploded it after all. A swordsmage with but two swords? You'd be the laughing stock of the academy. Thank the gods you're out of there. Content with the state of things, you return to the merchant.

He's where you left him, unsurprisingly. He's trying desperately to clean the blood out of his wares. Seems like he cleared all the bodies off the road, at least! When he sees you crudely ambulating towards him, he let's out a cry of shock. You speak up.
"No need to worry, friend. This is just the leader of those bandits that attacked you. Simon Leishman."
"Is-is he dead?"
"No, no. Just a bit, well, insensate? Anyway, I'd like to you take me back to town. To the town hall preferably."
"What? I thought I was paying you to protect me!"

You sigh. Yes, yes, but he hasn't paid you yet. You have no contractual obligation to aid him any further and there's no way you're going to walk twenty bloody miles back to town carrying this dead weight.

"Listen here, if you take me back to the hall, I'll protect you -- from myself."
Ignoring the merchant's sudden change in personality (he was a shivering nervous wreck just a few minutes ago!) you deliver this bold ultimatum. He accepts. He doesn't really have much of a choice anyway.

Less than an hour later you're back in town. You had to hit Simon in the head every couple of minutes to make sure he didn't wake up and now his bruised face is already starting to swell. Oh well. The merchant's nice enough to let you out just outside of the Town Hall but scurries off before you can yell at him to pay you. Instead of trying to carry Simon into the building, you drag him through the muddy puddles filled with god-knows-what. It's a good deal easier at least, plus it'll streak across the floor and that will annoy the receptionist to no end.

Just as you're about to push through and enter the building, a groggy head lolls back and mouths something like, "You don't have to do this," which you respond to with a sharp jab to the temple. Having left a trail of mud and dirt up the once pristine stairs, you burst through the door, dropping Simon in front of the reception's desk. No one's in. How strange.

You yell a bit. No response. You yell some more. Still nothing! How peculiar. Simon starts to groan in pain again but a kick to the head and he shuts up. You pound on the desk impatiently, making quite a racket. After about four minutes of this, the receptionist from earlier enters from a room in the back.

"Oh, you again. And what have we here?"
"Simon Leishman. He's alive, by the way. Now where's my reward?"
"Alive?" he asks. You barely notice a slight sigh escaping from his pursed lips. "Well, I suppose I'll take him in. How much was the bounty? 500 gold? Here, take 400."
He hands you a small bag filled to the brim with tiny smelted coins.
"If the bounty was 500 and I brought him in alive, shouldn't I get more, not less?"
What a foolish man he is, if he thinks he can trick you.

"If you bring him in alive, we have to execute him. If you kill him it means less work for us and we don't have to spend money on a trial."
You think that subverts the entire point of a justice system.
"If you kill him here, I'll look the other way and give you the full amount."

Such a tough call. You dragged the bastard all the way here. Plus if you kill him you might 'accidentally' splash blood all over the receptionist's expensive-looking clothes. And you'd get more money! If you keep him alive, what do you get exactly? You ponder for a moment. You remember some of what he was saying about corrupt governments and being the King of Thieves or something. Huh. Well, it's really up to you what you do.

---

Status: Soaked again, coated in mud. And blind. Have a 'thing for swords'. Bandaged?
Abilities: Telekinetic. Can lift small objects and also swords. Swordsmage. Can hear the whispers of the blades and maybe cast some magic. You think you've forgotten most of the magic you learned, though. Telekinetic Sight level 2, you're always aware of what's going on around you.
Inventory: Two swords are on your belt. Your rope's bound around Simon's hands.