"Hmm."
Gordon turns to talk to the raider again.
"...Look, it's not technically against my terms to go back to your raider buddies. But...
I'm was just going to kill them all. And if you go back to fight me again, I'm not going to bother sparing you a second time. Understand? If your friends want to survive, they should just leave too."
Still going to free him. If Marcus really wants to drag him to the mayor, well, leadership flows from the barrel of a gun.
Ah well, just shoot him and be done.
Backstory: Nobody's quite sure where he came from, or who he is, but one thing is certain: he's not 100% sane. Also; not 100% harmless. More like 14%.
HP: 2
Strength: 11
Dexterity: 17
Mind: 10
Wizard Level: 0
Affinity: Shotgun
Inventory:
Double barrel shotgun (d8) (2/4)
Crowbar
Music Box + 2 music discs
10 copper
"Is not my fault! Marcus provide reasonable options, but Gordon is soft! Marcus will not bandit go totally free. Still crimminal."
"At this point I'm ready to just shank him to get this over with."
"Alanna no." Marcus looks thoughtful. "Maybe."
Either tie him up completely or kill him. Let's get a move on.
Marcus and Alanna are talking. They are debating among themselves about the virtues of various plans as to what to do with the raider, and occasionally looking back over at Gordon, who is becoming visibly tired of the entire discussion. He squeezes the bridge of his nose with two fingers before rolling his eyes and calmly pointing his shotgun at the Raider's head. Without looking away from Marcus and Alanna he squeezes the trigger. The shot is an explosion in the small room, a burst of light and smoke that fills the entire room and a bang that puts a ringing in everyone's ears. The raider's head ceases to be, at least most of the middle of it; all thats left are two melon rind bits of the sides of his skull in hanging skin that droops down onto the corpse's shoulders. Blood spurts violently from the pink and red mush of the neck, and an ear, dangling limply on a bit of skin, tears free and hits the ground with a wet splat. The window behind the corpse is broken, and there are several finger sized holes in the wooden ball. Blood rapidly pools on the floor and seeps into the wood, mixing with the red mush that was once the man's head. Bits of brain and bone cover the bed in a fine mist. There's a overwhelming smell of burning gunpowder and copper in the air.
"There." Gordon says, breaking open the shotgun and replacing the one spent shell, "No more problems." He looks at the corpse and the spreading pool of blood, taking a few steps away so none of it gets on his shoes. "You get to explain to the Innkeeper why there's a corpse evacuating its bowels and blood all over one of his rooms. And probably leaking downstairs onto the bar."
"You still arguing about him? He came in here to murder and kidnap. Either lock him up or just kill him."
Give these guys one more turn to decide.
Strength: 15
Dex: 14
Mind: 10
HP: 1
Element: Sword
Collapsable Pole
Unlit Torch
Nothing
de-stringed Guitar
Guitar strings
Soldier's Weapon (really big sword)
Standard Armor
Unreasonable Acid
No quirk.
"Oh god DAMN IT!" You shout, walking over to the bed, hands outstretched in disgust and anger. "How the hell am I supposed to sleep in this now, huh? Couldn't you have just stabbed him? Or taken him outside? Or put out a tarp or something! GAHHH!"
Wait for a decision. Vote for tying the guy up and dangling him somewhere out of easy reach of the mob if we're voting again. Or offer to kill him with my new sword if the others vote to execute him.
Name: Bill
Backstory: Since the day he was born, Bill was raised to do one thing. He was meant to take over his father's butcher shop. When that didn't pan out (because a wizard blew it up), he turned to wizard hunting.
HP: 6
Strength: 8 14
Dexterity: 12 16
Mind: 18
Wizard level: 0
Affinity: Metal
Inventory d4: 4
Equipment 1: [6][9] A small lead bar
Equipment 2: [2][14] Meat cleaver (d6)
Equipment 3: [5][11] Standard Armor
Equipment 4: [6][20] Grimoire
Equipment 5: Magical Sabre of Cold (d6) (d4 Cold) (Loaned)
Money: [1][1] None
Quirk: [1] Nope
"Aw." you sigh, letting go of the handle of your sword and letting it dangle limply at your hip. This entire experience so far has been one big cock tease in terms of being able to murder someone with a magical sword. Seems they always end up dead or gone before you can have your shot at them. You kick a bit of mandible that landed near you. "Man...I wanted to do that."
syv sits, quietly thinking about his encounter with the Siren. Silence. Safety. Then, he realizes something can be heard: breathing. And it's close. He stiffens in fear, as the breathing gets louder, and louder. He can't see anything in the inky darkness, can't fight. But he can run.
FLEE BACK TO TOWN, THE SIREN MUST HAVE COME BACK!
Name:syv
Backstory: She likes the dark... and so the raiders captured her with light, then she attacked after fleeing into the darkness... Oh, oh no, nonono
HP: 6/6
STR: 14
DEX: 8
INT: 14
Wizard Level: 0
Affinity: FLESH
Inventory:
Tire Iron (d6 melee weapon)
Cobbled together pistol (d6 ranged weapon) [6/6]
12 bullets
1 silver coin, 30 copper coins
You run back towards town, sprinting blindly towards the distant lights of the lower district. Its a long run, one of several you've done tonight, and the strain of it all is really starting to sink in; your muscles are screaming and your chest feels like 50 pounds of hot coals are crushing down on it. You only get maybe a quarter of the way there before your run is reduced to a hobbling, wheezing jog, and then a staggering, rubberlegged march. You get right to the outskirts of town when you hear what is unmistakably the sound of a gunshot and glass breaking from somewhere in town. You dive -or more correctly, collapse- to the ground and cover your head. You stay there, muscles throbbing, breath refusing to be caught, listing for another shot, but it never comes.
Author
Topic: WIZARDS!: ZAP (Read 75511 times)