Drhoz

The carnage at Castle Cragmaw continues, but since the PCs claimed the moral high ground nobody gets to complain. One curious thing - the goblins are using coal for fuel. Despite the ruins standing in a forest. Is the Lost Mine of Phandalin a coal mine? There were plenty of quotes from the session, and nearly every damn one of them was lost thanks to cloud storage failure. I will never use it again. Thorn's player: You know, in 25 years of roleplaying, this is the first time I've actually encountered an owlbear. Never get between an owlbear and its cub. Or possibly fledgling. Kerak: Chick? Kerak: Are there more bad guys coming in the side doors? GM: No. Kerak: Thank Christ for that. Thorn: *corrects the dwarf's mythology* Thank the Red Knight for that. Urlon: Does the Red Knight even exist? Kerak: I should bop you with this warhammer for that. We do eventually find a nearly-dead dwarf being held hostage by a dark elf woman. We can't let her kill the dwarf - or let her get away. Elethandiel: You know what will happen if she gets away. Thorn: Yes, we'll have another recurring villain. Drow: Leave now or the earthworm dies. Thorn: *snarls* You labour under a misapprehension, elf - the only way you're getting out of here alive is if you earn our good will. And there is no way you're leaving here unless you put the dwarf down NOW. King Gurnt: *snorts* Then we play a waiting game - we wait until my minions return, and then we will see who eats whose bones. Kerak: What minions would those be? The dead ones in the castle? King Gurnt: Only the strong go on patrol. Thorn: Ah, like the ones with that wanted poster for the dragonborn. Kerak: They're dead too. Face it, you're alone. King Gurnt: And a green dragon might fly down and kill everybody. Thorn: Oh, you've met him too? Of course, the biggest problem is that the dwarf is near death and can't defend himself. That, however, can be changed. Thorn: *holding up clerical symbol* In the name of the god Helm I swear to let you leave alive if you release yo- HEALING SURGE The drow is now struggling with a fully healed hostage, and we storm the room. All that follows is surprise reveals of who the drow actually is, the whereabouts of the other missing dwarfs, and clues about the various conspiracies. For example, the dwarf that we just rescued - and the one we were originally hired by all those weeks ago - sent his brothers to Wave Echo Cave. And somebody named the Black Spider organised the kidnapping. We take our leave. Unfortunately, King Gurnt wasn't kidding about his patrols... and there's 30-odd hobgoblins waiting for us outside the ruins.They throw an elf's head at us by way of intimidation. Kavorog: Seriously? *throws the changeling's head at them, shows off the dire wolf skin he collected earlier, and throws down the owlbear paws the halfling wants to make into epaulettes. The new hobgoblin leader chooses to interpret this as a tribute. Kavorog: Nevermind, we can kill him later. Thorn: Or the dragon will. GM: The sun sets, your mission is complete, and big dark shadows are cast across the land.*flying a dragon toy across the table* The next session, which included getting Kavorog's totemic animal on side, the return of Lamech the Gnome, and plothooks for Temple of Elemental Evil. GM: Well, now you know why lions were hanging out near the road – it’s dangerous out there in the wilderness, even for lions. Kavorog: Is there anywhere I can get my axe Turned into +2? Thorn: Yes – you can go ask the Red Wizard of Thay to do it. Kavorog: … let’s not. On top of all the other stuff we’ve been putting off, there’s that door to the shadow realms under the ruined mansion we probably should investigate. And bored fairy dragons to entertain. But there is still the dwarf’s brothers we need to locate and rescue. Thorn: We don’t even know they’re in trouble – they could be hacking away at a huge pile of gold and lost track of time. Of course, not all the PCs are coming with us – their mothers complained. Urlon: When something goes wrong I want you to be in the rescue party. Lamech meanwhile, has been making a tour of the Sea of Monsters, Sea of Holes, etc. Lamech: It’s probably concussion speaking. He gets rescued by birdlike beings. Lamech: At least it’s not machine elves. They recruit him to prevent an evil elemental takeover of the world. Lamech takes the opportunity to drop a bundle of stuff on Kavorog’s head through the Aarokocra’s viewing portal. Lamech: Wait for it, wait for it…. Bombs away! GM: The blazing portal appears in the sky, and winged figures emerge playing trumpets, and Lamech is borne to earth by Lamech: Shining winged figures GM: … who look exactly like Aarakocra covered in glitterdust. Local cleric: We’re sure this is blasphemous – he’s passing himself off as a divine being – but I’ll buy into this for now. Lamech: I bring word from the airy realms, word that must be given to the greatest fighters of the age, lest the world fall to chaos! That’s you, you, and you. Kavorog: *looks around* Elminster must be around here somewhere, laughing his arse off. Lamech: The dark elemental forces are going to make a move on Faerun, and we’re in the right place to stop it. And I get to be an Emissary! Kavorog: That has to be the strongest stuff you’ve ever taken – where can we get some more? GM: You’re still got your set of dark common clothes. Lamech: Actually it’s covered in glitterdust at the moment, but that’ll wear off. The druid tells Kavorog about the Emerald Enclave, an association of barbarians, rangers, druids and other treehuggers. Druid: If you tell anyone about this I will be forced to kill you. Kavorog: Well, you could try. Druid: Do you want to join?Druid: Kavorog: That was sudden. I’ll just need to pop back to camp, and get the oil for my initiation. *gleefully oils himself up* Druid: Your initiation name will be ‘Late-for-Dinner’ Lamech: Kavorog might not be good, but he does a convincing impersonation. At least when there’s anybody around to watch. Lamech: While I certain appreciate the products of nature, I’m not sure I’m the kind of person your group is after. Druid: You’re a nefarious hippie drug-user who can string two words together and bluffed a dragon. You were born to be either a Harper or a member of the Emerald Enclave. Lamech: … that’s fair enough. Lamech: Do I get an initiation name too? Druid: *sigh* Kavorog: I’ll go get more oil. Druid: Fine, you’re Ergot.

A warning – this session includes scenes of actual human trafficking and sexual slavery, unlike my jokes about the last one. Spoilers for a published adventure 'Hiding in the Dark', even if we did manage to come up with a better plot to salvage things for the GM. Oracle: I should tell you what I have planned, and not leave it hanging in front of everybody like a dick…. I just realised what I said. Sorry. What Oracle has planned is combining existing tech into contagious mind-control nanites. But he’s not going to show us the prototypes until he’s perfected the antidote. Shell: Oh good, so I don’t have to kill you. GM: Why would Shadowrunners even take this job? Oracle: Ethics, money, personal interest Poe: Boredom. GM: But working for the DA? Ripper K: It’s legitimate money. We have to put SOMETHING on our tax returns. We’ll just put a few extra zeros in somewhere. Ripper K: So is there any fallout from extracting the flying laptop? Do we get a phone call from Boots asking us what the f**k did we just do? Shell: Probably not – we didn’t kill anybody in a way that made it obvious it was US. GM: You hand Dr Carroll over to the Draco Foundation and they are very pleased and give you lots and lots of money. Shell: Yay! Ripper K: Will you be burnishing your nipples with this money too? Shell: Only if you ask nicely. Astronauta’s Player: How much is Cash for Karma? Ripper K: *deliberately mishearing it as ‘Cash for camera’* Depends what kind of performance you want me to do. GM: A chill rain soaks you to your bones. Shell: That’s what the sensors on my bodyshell tell me. Ripper K: And apparently I’m webcam whoring for Astronauta. Ocelot: I’m picturing it as perfectly legitimate work on polishing Astronauta’s promotional videos. We DO get a phone call from Boots, but it’s a job offer. Boots: We need somebody with your skill sets. Oracle: Given some of the projects I have on the backburner, that’s actually pretty alarming. We approach the faux-adobe exterior of Reno’s, where frat-boys try to look tough in combat biker gear and cute little racing crotch-rockets, no doubt bought by their rich fathers trying to buy their love. Oracle: I do a Reverse Visa ad – fake leather jacket, 400 nuyen, Victory cargo pants, 25 nuyen… Ripper K: Public humiliation, priceless. Oracle: Failing to impress me, priceless. Ocelot: Oh, don’t be mean. Boots: Sorry about the surroundings, but I didn’t feel like ice cream again. Oracle: I LIKE ice cream. Boots: Well, I don’t. I don’t like mass destruction either. You know what I mean? Oracle: …. I can’t say I’ve heard of any MASS destruction lately. Ripper K: I was visiting my granny. Boots: Oh? You didn’t hear about that ARES chopper that got shot out of the air downtown? Oracle: Well, maybe if they’d used their own model of chopper they wouldn’t have had so many problems. Boots: YES! FINALLY! Someone who f***ing AGREES with me when I point this kind of thing out! ‘But nobody uses ground-to-air missiles downtown’ Like F**K they don’t! Even if it was just medium calibre assault rifle rounds they fished out of the wreckage of the helicarrier! Er, troop carrier. Ripper K: It would be pretty impressive to take out a helicarrier with a rifle. Ocelot: Although Hawkeye nearly managed it with a bow and arrow. Boots is here to set up an Augmented Reality meet with the Assistant District Attorney, who we’ve avoiding working for in the past. Oracle: Well, that explains why Boots called us – if the ADA had tried we wouldn’t have picked up the phone. ADA: I dislike turning to those outside of the law. However, I find myself yet again using those of your kind. Poe: Well, now we’ve walked off that conversational cliff… Ocelot: Starting out strong. Boots: Ma’am, may I suggest that if we are going to work with criminal scum, we at least exercise a modicum of tact? Oracle: I object to being called criminal scum – I’ve never been convicted of anything. We’re just scum. Ocelot: Well, I got that traffic ticket once. The Assistant DA wants us to collect evidence to convict various organised criminals involved in the Seattle drug war – especially one ‘Junior’. A number of her best undercover agents are already dead or missing. We all get to bountyhunters for a week! Yay! ADA: Only for a week though. Oracle: *closing a computer menu* Aw. Ripper K: ‘Seattle’s Most Wanted’? Oracle: Yup. GM: The pay will be 15000 nuyen per runner. Ocelot: Works out to that for the runners in the party, anyway. Otherwise we’re calling every shadowrunner we know and given them high-fives. And then march in a line from one end of Seattle to the other. Oracle: ‘How did the budget for this operation end up in the billions????’ Well, we imported more shadowrunners from out of town. And a whole bunch of mercs from Bogota. The larger bounty depends on bringing Junior in alive. Half that is available if he turns up dead. Oracle: That’s still a lot of nuyen for one bullet. Junior has never been caught by surveillance. Ripper K: Electronic or Mk I Eyeball? ADA: Electronic. Ripper K: Hey, Poe, you’re our expert on things Mage-ical. Is Junior magical? Poe: *frowns* More likely technomancer. Ripper K: Good point. Junior also runs restaurants and brothels. Astronauta Peligroso: I don’t mind going to the brothels – I’d like that part. GM: A drunken man stumbles up and winks at you with his piercing blue eyes. Shell: McGINTY???? It’s Joe Martin, a TRiD news anchor, who apparently has figured out who we are, who we were meeting with, and wants contacts in the Running community. Oracle: If he doesn’t succeed on his Judge Intentions check he’s a dead man, because I’m going to lure him into an alley and kill him. GM: He has Charisma 7 (and a bunch of other diplomancer enhancements) Oracle: F**k. I actually like the guy. Oracle: *Over the team’s TacNet* Does anybody know where I find a mulcher? Shell: I do! And he lives just down the tracks from me! ‘Hey Joe! Got something special for you!’ ‘Grraarrgghhh - This one doesn’t have any Humanis tattoos’ ‘I know! It’s special!’ ‘ Grraachhhhchomp - Tastes like pure douche.’ Oracle’s Player:: I played in a Shadowrun group that retired when we realised we could make more money making movies than doing runs. Ocelot’s player: Van and I did that in Cthulhupunk. Oracle: Mr Martin, you need to work on your approach – while we’ve been talking here I’ve sourced a mulching machine and a WiFi deadspot where I can kill you. Mr Martin: Oh dear. Well, here’s my card. And then we get another phone call, from Athena Tatopoulos, the Editor-in-Chief at KSAF Oracle and Shell: IS THERE ANYONE IN SEATTLE THAT DOES NOT KNOW THIS RUN IS HAPPENING???? Athena makes an even less favourable impression on us than Martin. He, at least, approached us in person, and not as a recorded message. Poe: I like the balls on the other guy. Ocelot: Whatever floats your boat. This job will require old-fashioned legwork. Oracle: Can we start at the restaurants? Ocelot: Let’s do the brothel. Oracle: Aw, I was hungry. GM: Well, one of the brothels is under a deli. Astronauta Peligroso: I’M THERE. Shell: And instantly everything turns into innuendo. Ripper K: ‘Who ordered two kilos of Italian Sausage?’ Shell makes the mistake of going in with Astronauta – forgetting his phobia of nudity. Worse, all the working girls are Bunraku – biochipped with a range of personalities from Shy Housewife to Dominatrix. Which is just creepy. Especially since it’s such a cheap brothel the blank-faced girls are rented out to Seattle’s addicts and chip-heads for less than 40 nuyen an hour. There is also screaming from behind one of the walls. Shell, who is not coping well already, kicks through the wall, and finds an operating theatre where a 12-year-old girl is being operated on for biochip implantation. Shell: *drawing his memory metal claymore* Hello Doctor. I’m ready to make the incision. Astronauta Peligroso: Don’t kill the doc, we need him to put the girl back together. Shell: I beg to differ. Ripper K: You know, with your distinctive appearance it’ll be pretty easy to track you down after trashing the place. Astronauta Peligroso: Not a problem – I’ll get Oracle to wipe all the footage. Ocelot: Not from eyewitnesses. Shell: OK – we’re killing everybody in the room. Oracle: Don’t look at me – Ocelot and I are researching Combat Drugs and delivery systems, so we can dose Junior up in a public place and get him arrested for going berserk. Where can I get a collapsible bow and a dose of Woad? How very useful is Shell’s cybernetic nature – especially when he can call a surgeon friend of his, and use his own body as a tele-operated waldo for remote emergency surgery on the girl. Shell: And suddenly my personality and body language is that of an 70-year-old Japanese man. Astronauta Peligroso: What? Oracle: Don’t worry, you’re not high, that actually happened. We then call Boots and get Knight Errant to come down on the brothel with both boots. Ripper also suggests we pass suitably edited footage on to Martin and Tatopoulos, since both networks will milk the story of illegal neuroplug surgery on 12-year-old runaways for weeks. The doc, who survives Shell’s rampage, confesses everything to the DA – he was approached by Junior’s thugs, who demanded a cut of his profits in return for certain support in his ‘research’. The second location is a battered apartment block that looks like it survived WWI, II, AND III. It’s a Better-than-life Den. One Drekhead claims he witnessed the murder of the undercover cop sent here. Ripper K: You know, you can make more money telling your story on the networks… Shell: Well THAT didn’t go the way I expected. Ripper K: But before you do that you have to prove you have something to show off. Shell: It’s like you start every sentence with a double entendre and yank it back at the last minute! He has the cop’s commlink. Drekhead: I’ll give you a thousand nuyen for it! Ripper K: … I think you mean you’ll give it to us for thousand nuyen. Astronauta Peligroso: That’s not what he said! The third locale is an active drug den in another apartment block. Oracle pretends an interest in the motorbikes of the Trolls acting as security. Spike: You here to see Little Bill? Oracle: ….. yes! Ripper K: ‘I am indeed here to see Diminutive William’ Little Bill is a dwarf, who has somehow become the boss of troll gang. He has a rap sheet a mile long. Shell: Which includes dwarf-tossing. Ocelot: Is that what they call it these days? Little Bill: Whatchoo you want? You don’t look like the usual clientèle. Oracle: Um, can you score me some Woad? Little: Well, I can, but not today – I usually carry BTLS, Novacoke, that kinda thing. But I can get you some if you come back tomorrow. Ripper K: *over the TacNet* Well, he just confessed on microcamera that he deals in drugs. Ask him whether Junior won’t be here tomorrow. Oracle: OK, I’ll come back tomorrow… wait, your boss won’t be here, will he? Little Bill: *narrow eyes* What boss? Oracle: Tusker? Name of Junior? That I never want to run into? Little Bill: Well… I don’t see him often. He has a schedule. Ripper K: Bingo XD The runners drive up to the next location Junior is known to frequent, an old Irish pub called “Murphy’s Law”, but the place is swarming with Knight Errant patrol cars, ambulances, and bodies riddled with bullets. Boots leads them behind the bar to one of the secret entrances to the Ork Underground. Apparently two of the crime families – Yakuza and the Finnegans - had a shoot-out, and there were a lot of innocent bystanders, including a 7-year-old girl. Oracle gets to work with his sensor drones. The trail leads to an ork standing over the body of a Japanese man. Shell OoC: Hey there! You gonna eat that? This would have especially offensive, since the Ork is a member of the Yakuza as well. He’s already extremely pissed off, since the shoot out happened when the Yaks got a tip-off that Junior was going to be at the bar, the Irish crooks spotted the guns, and panicked. Oracle: How much do you want to bet that Junior sent them the tip? More PTSD for Shell – the Yakusa Ork takes us to a strip joint. To meet an Italian Ork mobster. It looks like everybody is joining forces to take Junior down. ‘Legitimate Italian-American Businessman’: I love the Ork Underground. I’m a silent partner in half of the businesses down here. Since the fire a few months ago I’ve been heavily involved in the reconstruction. Ocelot: ? Oracle: We didn’t do it – that’s why we didn’t hear about it. LI-AB: I have a lot of information on Junior. I just need you to do a small favour for me. Oracle: Goodbye. Ocelot: It had better be a bloody small favour – we’re already trying to take Junior down. He just wants us to escort some building supplies. Ripper K: What, he’s running short on concrete boots? Shell: I respectfully insist we do this one job for you, then go deal with our mutual problem. Oracle: I’m coming around on the escort thing. Astronauta Peligroso: ? Oracle: I have six kilos of C12. WE can guarantee the building supplies arrive safe. They won’t STAY safe… Shell: This is like babysitting a team of marines that are bored and already don’t like you. Topside Construction is actually a legitimate business. Oracle: Actually I won’t blow this up – if Junior has been attacking legitimate businesses, that’s just dirty pool. This actually appears to be a simple, straightforward, and innocent job, escorting and unloading building supplies down into the Ork Underground. And the other two jobs would have been to a homeless shelter and a soup kitchen. Oracle Ooc: Nice curveball from the writers there. Ocelot OoC: It just means we didn’t see what went wrong. Back to the nightclub – where all the lights are off. Ripper K: Oh god. GM: You go in. Oracle: Oh no we don’t. Ocelot: Drone goes in first. LI-AB: I suppose I should hold up my end of our bargain. I told you I could help you find Junior, and I can. I’m him. Oracle: Dammit. Ocelot, I owe you twenty nuyen. Junior explains how he’s spent years building up the Ork Underground’s legitimate economy, despite the opposition from Humanis, xenophobes, organised crime, etc. If it wasn’t for the 50-odd innocent people killed in the escalating gangwar after he got the Finnegans involved, we’d actually be sympathetic. He makes a counter-offer – tell the ADA we failed, and he can wind up the Junior persona over the next few months. Shell: Earlier tonight we raided a Bunraku parlour. You have anything to do with that? Junior: Bunraku? No, I hate those things. I’ve got some brothels though. Oracle: Then you’ve got a problem – someone has suborned the Junior identity. Shell: Counter-offer – stop ALL your illegal activities and we hand over a Junior. Ripper K: After all, we still get paid if he’s dead. Oracle: But only half. This seems a good compromise – the real Junior fingers a suitable fake, provides evidence to incriminate him, and we take him down and present him to the ADA as the real deal. Junior will have to pay us the difference, though. Mystery Ork X, who has a counterpart in the Yakuza, and who figured out what was really going on and found a way to make money on the side, turns out to be the manager of the Gravity Bar, a legitimate Manhattan-style singles bar up on the surface. GM: ‘Try our range of speciality martinis!’ Shell: ‘We call this one the Slippery Nipple’ Unfortunately, X’s Matrix security is ridiculously good for a nightclub. Ocelot: Jesus! He’s got corp-level security! Ripper K: Well, he is trying to not get himself killed by the Yakuza AND Junior. Alarms go off all over the place, and we just have to storm the place. Shell: Hey. Wake up. Do you have anything to do with that Bunraku parlour? X: Which one? Ripper K: Ouch. Astronauta Peligroso: Wrong answer. Shell: *pops X’s head off* True, his friend in the Yakuza will get away, but at least we’ve got a body to pass off as Junior, a very messy van to clean, and a deranged cyborg to hose off. Ocelot: A decapitated corpse is really difficult to pass off as an accidental death. If you’d left him I could have passed it off as an accidental overdose of slap-patches. Now we’re going to get so much shit from the DA… did he have a motorbike? Oracle: Hey Shell, how many Bunraku-parlour owners are you willing to decapitate? Shell: How many Bunraku parlours are there in Seattle? Oracle: Problem solved – the rumours will start by themselves, after Shell pops the heads off some more. Shell: Excuse me while I go for a very enthusiastic walk. Ocelot: Let’s get our story straight. ‘We found him like this’ Ripper K: We got there while the alarms were still sounding. Which is true XD Ocelot: Actually, let’s blame it on a drone malfunction. ‘I haven’t finished tweaking my extraction drone’ Shell: I don’t know whether I’m pleased or annoyed that you’re covering for me. Ripper K: But you’re still going around decapitating Bunraku parlour owners? Shell: Eh, I’ll stop after the fourth. ‘1, 2, 3, 4, bored now. See you next year!

Shadowrun, where the goof troop are currently infiltrating what is probably a Skunkworks. (I gather this plot was lifted from a Shadowrun computer game) Oracle OoC: There were metagaming reasons to do it this way - I switched off half my brain so the combat characters will have something to do. Shell’s Player: Nibble Nobby’s Nuts Oracle’s Player: Before he nibbles yours. Shell’s Player: Eh, I’m an equal opportunity nibbler. Shell prepares his melee weapons, just in case. Ripper K: A memory metal claymore? Shell: Hell yes. The mission promptly goes to hell. Shell: *steps out of elevator and cuts guard in half* I am that OTHER shadowrunner tonight. Ripper K: D: We won’t be able to cover up our presence here, either. Oracle: What do mean, you don’t have Sterilize??? Poe: I had other priorities, OK??? Streetrat: I thought we were going in quiet! Oh, fuck - I forgot to bring the silencers. Ripper K OoC: Oracle, are you sure you only switched off HALF your brain for this mission??? At least there’s no cameras down here. Ripper K: Um? Streetrat: Makes sense - there are things that can escape through cameras. Poe: Input /output node. Ripper K: So, are we modifying the odds that Dr Carroll is an AI? Poe: No bet. There’s no signs either. Ripper K: We wake up in a maze of twisty corridors, all alike. GM: Pretty much. There’s a guard station between sections - millimeter-band radar is so useful. Ocelot: Stun weapons? You got a stun weapon? Ripper, you got - never mind, you’re a walking stun weapon. Ripper K: I know - I could just walk in naked. Shell: LEROOOOOY JENKINSSSSSSS! Ocelot: Quietly enjoying their donuts and then the security barrier explodes and a cyborg jumps through. Ripper K: We’re going to have to move in a hurry, aren’t we? Ocelot: We were already going to. Shell: *humming something under his breath* Ocelot: Are you singing ‘Rule of Nature’? (Metal Gear: Revengeance) Shell: Yes > Oracle: *starts playing it over the TacNet* Poe: Can anybody else hear that? Ripper somersaults through the gap, snatching a guard out of his chair while still in mid-air, slams him onto the table and tasers him in the throat. Shell: Show-off. Ripper K: *starts securing the guards back to back* Shell: Good idea! Hey, buddy, are you awake? Let’s GET ON WITH THIS. Ocelot: It’s going to be at least an hour before they even wake up. Ripper K: Fair point - if we’re still here in an hour we’ve got bigger problems. Streetrat: If they don’t know we’re down here yet they deserve whatever happens next. GM: There’s a laser security grid. Poe: Pass me another grenade. GM: *headdesk* It’s still dead quiet down here. The rest of the building above, not so much. Alarms are going off everywhere. Oracle: And there they go. At least the four-legged heavily armed drone Streetrat is piloting, and the sword waving street samurai, are encouraging everybody to keep their heads down. Shell: Hi there! Where’s Dr. Carroll? Researcher: He’s out the back! Shell: Great! You can show me the way! Researcher: I can’t go in there! I’ll die! Oracle: Oh, right, that radiation source… Shell: I pat Streetrat’s drone and head on through. Ripper K: And while they’re all staring at this maniac, I quietly spray the supervisor’s workstation with Screen Capture Spray. Shell doesn’t even bother turning off the radiation source - it can’t hurt him in his cyborg chassis, and he’s got a rad suit for the Doctor. Which proves completely pointless, since the only thing in the far room is a large nexus node. Shell: Dr Carroll? Are you hiding behind the desk? ARE YOU HIDING BEHIND THE DESK? Dr. Carroll: Is it safe to come out? Shell: For a given measure of safe. Dr. Carroll: Very well then. A small flying drone drone carrying something that looks like a laptop emerges from a concealed panel on the node. Oracle: A good nano-tattoo would hold more data than that thing. Ripper K: He’s probably just using whatever tech he could get his manipulators on. Dr. Carroll: Very professionally done, but there’s no time to waste. We must leave immediately! Not least because the reinforcements are arriving in helicopters. Oracle: Great, I’ve already wanted to try skeet suiting. GM: Of course, they didn’t notice a big van backed up to the wall. Oracle: Well it didn’t register as a threat. GM: Until now. Shell: The van was as much of a threat as a dead wombat. Ripper K’s player: Saw three wombats on my trip east. Shell’s player: Really? Were they dead? Ripper’s Player: Yup. Shell’s Player: What the hell hit them? Ripper’s Player: Dunno. There weren’t any wrecked cars by the road, but they might have been carted off. The wombats were probably too heavy to move. Streetrat switches control to his aerial drone, so he can have some fun with the reinforcements too. Ocelot: You know, each one of those choppers we shoot down will cost ARES close on a million nuyen. Streetrat: More. That’s High Threat Response - more like 2 million in personnel. Shell: I’ve got a new song ‘It’s Raining Men!’ Boots, former PC now working for ARES and Knight Errant, is probably listening to the reports with growing apprehension. Boots: This sounds familiar - what kind of van are they driving? No reason. We get back to the lifts - to find the DataDyne security have used the lift shaft to move in and barricade our escape route. They have armour and a chain gun. Guards: Throw down your weapons! Shell: Well, I COULD, but I’m currently carrying your Doctor, so feel free to shoot me. Ocelot: Actually, they probably have orders to shoot if the AI does try to escape. Shell: Good point. Oracle blows the ground floor wall - and finds more guards, gathered to head down the lift shaft to the basement labs. Oracle: Oh. F***. Hi? Unfortunately for the guards in the basement, we have more grenades. And it’s a narrow corridor. And we still have that maniac with the memory metal claymore. Ripper K is getting a bit upset at this carnage. Ripper K: I don’t want to be a murderer! I mean, can you think of any porn star murderers? I can’t! Dr. Carroll: Don’t worry, you’re not a murderer. You’re an accessory to murder. Ripper K: Well, assuming we even survive to get to trial, I’m fine! At least we all get out alive. With the target, no less. But we are SO going to be on the run now… Shell: If you really want, Ripper, we can stop at a Stuffer Shack and you can go in and buy a change of underwear. Poe: Besides, it’s alright - there were no cameras down there. Of course, nothing will stop you remembering it - nothing short of Persona Editing anyway. Apparently Dr. Carroll was a DataDyne invention, but his creators got nervous when it started questioning the direction of DataDyne’s research. Oracle: Yeah, that kind of thing always makes people nervous. Dr. Carroll: So, if you can just give me Matrix access… All: *Exchange worried glances* Streetrat’s dad Labrat tells us to take Dr Carroll to the Draco Foundation. Shell: We just did a high profile run and they want us to take the target straight there. Straight there. Not to a safe house. STRAIGHT THERE. Ripper K: I bet the client doesn’t even work there - they’ll be somebody waiting for us in the foyer and the moment we leave again they’ll be straight out the side door. The Screen Capture Spray collects some interesting data from the workstation. On such things as Neutron Grenades, personal force fields, and some really advanced smart links. One of which Ocelot snaffled on our way out - ripping out the software should be very useful. Oracle sells this info to The Company, for more than we are already being paid for extracting Dr. Carroll. Oracle’s Player:: I can’t wait until Drhoz hears what I’m going to do - he has a wonderfully expressive face when it comes to horror and disgust.

Black Crusade : The Fifteenth Arcana Having successfully acquired all the fragments of Haarlock's daemonic mirror, and ensured that everybody will blame Marshall Skarman and Enforcer Khan for the string of murders and riots currently rocking Sinophia, all that's left is window dressing, and deciding what to do with the daemon in question. Eniek: We need to splash some more blood around. GM: Well, you've got that telepath. Digna: I've got all those Dark Adsecularii too. I won't suffer too much of a leadership problem if I kill, say, 30 of them. The daemon itself seems agreeable to bargaining, and knows quite a lot about the PCs. This is never a good sign. The Daemon of the Mirror: Prefect Digna, who has replaced her entire body with plastic and steel, and seeks the Silica Anima, the forbidden artificial intelligence. The perfect mind for the perfect body? Digna: Well, THAT should be news to everyone here. And Eniek is going 'Are you insane? Wait, of course you are.' The Daemon: Magos Eniek, who seeks to push human biology past all limits of the unaltered flesh, and explores realms your hypocrite colleagues would call blasphemous. Eniek: Yes, yes, you know all about us and state the obvious. Can we get on with this? The Daemon of the Mirror: And you, little noble? Perhaps I can recommend a good bar. Digna OoC: It's called the Floating Vagabond The Daemon: After all, if you are so dissatisfied with reality as it is that you must gaze at it through the bottom of a glass, it's little wonder the Ruinous Powers could tempt you with the means to remake reality to match your drunken hallucinations. Or perhaps you simply drink to forget the fate that awaits you and all mortal flesh? I can see your desire, little noble. Speak it. Or wait. But do not wait TOO long... The Daemon: And your little pet wyrdling there, who despite his new armour, and his allies, and his power, still refuses to face certain issues from his past. Skerrit: I DO NOT HAVE ANY ISSUES Methinks he doth protest too much. Skerrit: I'm the weirdest psyker ever – I can see the future, see everything that's going to happen. AND I DON'T CARE GM: Black Crusade is tricky to prepare for - the players might decide to do anything. Declare war on Holy Terra in one ship, for example. Eniek: Nah, not Earth. Only one ship has ever got that close. GM: Indeed. And it took the Time Cannons on Luna to stop it. Eniek: Yeah. Declaring war on the Inquisition, on the other hand... GM: *headdesk* Eniek has heard whispers of a certain Liber Ex Incarnis, so his question to the daemon is as to where the Calixian Inquisitors keep such artefacts. The daemon answers instantly - the Tricorn Tower, in the middle of the ruling hive on Scintilla, the sector capitol. GM: I'm sure the daemon will be amused if you blow up the Tricorn Tower and go through the rubble for the book. Digna: Other way round – get the book, THEN blow up the tower. Remember – Pillage, THEN burn. Digna makes a bargain - in return for one of the daemon's names, she and the other PCs will free the entity from its confinement in the mirror. The daemon even offers to teach them a ritual that will move the mirror somewhere where they can question it at leisure. Not being complete fools, they decline this offer, and release it where it stands - the Ritual of Unmaking being suitably spectacular, although the eldritch shrieking form that burns up into the stormy skies over the burning city might take some explaining. Digna: Not bad for a ritual originally used against the Polish Remover of N'all, and the Staff of Q'tip. Still, blaming it all on some warp-based technology Skarman and Khan unearthed during their smuggling enterprise isn't too difficult - they just have to provide the Inquisition with a believable bodycount. The PCs head downstairs, and Digna hands her assistants a large packet of high explosive. Digna: Hold this satchel. And stay here. Skarman's Adjutant Fihad Constantine would quite like to know what was going on upstairs. Digna: Just dealing with more of your previous superior's mess. hits detonator The ritual also seems to have screwed up all the holo-screens and computers down here. Digna: Have you attempt the Cant of Power Cycling? It's a basic prayer for restoring recalcitrant machine spirits. GM: 'Have you tried switching it off and on again?' Eniek: Recite the tech-litany and castrate the unbelievers. Daniels: Stop everything, we need to requisition some more unbelievers. The Inquistorial Acolytes and the Governor finally arrive. Time to present their evidence, and ensure the Governor never, ever tries to eliminate the party to cover his own role in this debacle. Digna: And it's an unsubtle reminder that no matter where he goes we can get at him. So he'd better play ball. The Governor is not a good actor. Governor: What might have happened if my GOOD FRIEND Digna here had not uncovered this nest of vipers in my very midst! Digna: Would you like a sedative, Governor? GM: Qualuudes. 'Luuudes, Man. 'Nyquil, Nyquil, Nyquil -' Digna: '- you giant fucking Q' GM: In the original Green Death flavour. Time to get off Sinophia before the Inquisition smells a rat. How to profit from the rioting, carpet-bombing, lynch-mobs etc? Looting, of course. GM: I've got all this valuable artwork to sell. They fell off the back of a truck. Ignore the burn marks. Daniels: Plasma burns. They're ancient. GM: It adds to the patina. Digna has other ideas. Digna: I shall relieve the burden on the Administratum by taking it upon myself. GM: ? Digna: Orphans. GM: You evil bastards. Digna: And the public considers us philanthropists. Right – the older orphans, just hitting puberty – line them up for my steroid trials. GM: Actually by 40K standards this is a minor evil. Daniels: Nevermind, we'll get better. GM: So you've got your adorable orphans going 'Please sir, may I have some more Human Growth Hormone?' Technical manuals of the 40th Millennium. Digna: At least it isn't one of the Codices of St. Jane. Digna wants to make a daemon weapon from the iron in the blood of a thousand victims. She'll need something that will burn off the non-ferrous elements almost as fast is it drains the target. GM: Call it the El Chupacabra – can exsanguinate a cow at 200m. Routes to Scintilla - do they travel via the wretched mining world of Sepheris Secundus, or the treacherous politics of Malfi, where the nobility genetically engineered themselves to be better at Machiavellian intrigue? Queen Lachryma III of Sepheris Secundus is pretty noteworthy herself. (have I ever mentioned how much I love John Blanche's art? If anything could be said to typify Warhammer and Warhammer 40K, it's his designs and illustrations) Skerrit: She has a big hat. GM: Well, of course, she's queen. Skerrit: Which is why the God-Emperor's head is welded to the Golden Throne. Daniels: 'I wear the Imperial Palace as a hat' Skerrit is looking up certain psychic weapons. He is NOT going to get the trademark device of the Culexus Assassins. GM: No you can't have a Animus Speculum. For one thing, you're not a psychic Pariah. A social pariah, maybe... Digna makes some improvements to the ship, en route. Digna: We now have a best-quality Resolution Arena. GM: Let me guess – you'll be exsanguinating everyone who loses. Digna: Yup XD She also further alters her own appearance, to better influence her targets, and conceal the more obvious mutations. And gifts the party with a matching set of power swords. Daniels: I'm a bit worried about Digna – first she gets a boob job and then she gives me a sword. Daniels: Good lord – I see you went with the LARGE Etheric Beam Locators. GM: They need Double-D batteries. Digna: 'they're all synthetic, boys!' Of course, getting a chaos tainted ship from place to place is not as straightforward as the bizarrely baroque efforts of the Navigator Guilds. The 'navigator' on the Obsidian Resolve usually selects a crewman, gets stoned out of his mind, flogs the crewman to death, and reads the auguries for the next trip from the blood splatter. Daniels: We've got passengers for that! GM: Eh – they're not really part of the ship. Digna decides this is inefficient, and acquires a wildly illegal technology that allows her to substitute herself. This is a profoundly unsettling experience, not least because it allows her to perceive the Astronomicon - the psychic beacon of the God-Emperor's might, broadcast from Terra and fuelled by the deaths of a thousand psykers a day. And it's LOOKING at her. Side-effects of the trip include disturbing whispers from just behind everybody's left shoulder. Daniels: That's not so bad – I'll just turn up the Melodium for a few days. Arrival at Scintilla is delayed by some ship called the Rose Tattoo screaming ahead and taking their parking spot. But at least they have a plan for a heist against the Tricorn Tower - Hive Sibellus is built upon the mausoleums of its past, and a popular pastime for the nobility is paying for expeditions into the underhive to find the tombs of their forebears. Some describe this as the fortune of the city being built on the works of their illustrious ancestors. The more cynical describe it as being built on the bones of the dead. Either way, it should be fairly simple for Lord-Captain Daniels to stage one such expedition into the catacombs, and seek out whatever secret entrances the inquisitors have into the Tricorn Tower. Now, where can they get some nukes?

Plans to take down King Gurnt and Castle Cragmaw. Thorn: CragM-A-W? Oh, I thought it was Cragmoor. Well, it's not like I've ever seen it written down. Thorn: What we do is, is find the Floating Vagabond pub - GM: No. Thorn: - find a space marine - GM: No. Thorn: - get him drunk and borrow the keys to his siege tank. GM: No. Besides, you can't get Space Marines drunk. Thorn: Ah, but we'll be buying him Dwarf Beer. GM: F**k off. Thorn: OK, how about we take the remnants of an exhausted army up to the main concentration of the enemy forces and stand out in the open, while two essentially helpless PCs try to sneak in through the back door and get to Mount Doom? GM: You could always turn up with the dragonborn as a prisoner. Thorn OoC: Yesssss... and scare the rectangular Roombas. And when they ask what's going on down there we tell them we have a reactor leak. Kavorog: The halfling might be a bit slow. Thorn: If we have to we'll strap to the back of one of the dragonborn. Urlon: I'm not speeding up the dragonborn – I have trouble keeping up with them as it is. Thorn: I don't see the problem. Sure, if we're running away at the time.... Thorn: What happens if we actually find the missing dwarves that started all this? Urlon: We give them a weapon and ask them if they want some revenge. And tell them they have to pay us for rescuing them. Thorn: I which case I expect they'll say 'F**k that, we'll rescue ourselves.' You are asking a dwarf to give you some gold, after all. GM: If you leave now you should get there by twilight. Thorn: Full Twilight? Naval Twilight? Nipple Twilight? Bad Paranormal Romance Twilight? Kavorog: Oh god... Thorn: Sparkle Twilight. Castle Cragmaw is seven ruinous towers built on a platform well above the ground. It's a full-sized defensive fort, surrounded by loose slopes of debris, with at least three possible entrances. Thorn: Being PCs, I suggest we find a fourth. Elethandiel studies the ruins, and suggests sneaking in via the wreckage of an old sally port might be best, especially if the Orcs think that entrance is already secure. Thorn: Exactly how many orcs are we expecting to be in there? GM: Not thousands. Urlon: That's scary. You didn't say 'not hundreds' Thorn: So there could be 999. Thorn: So what's the alarm if you see any patrols coming? Who knows how to hoot like an owl? Kavorog: Scream and run. Urlon: Towards them. Happily, one of the NPCs hears the goblins squabbling behind the arrow slits before we blunder into them. Kavorog casts Mend on the door so it opens smoothly and silently. Thorn: Is it time to scream the Ultramarine battlecry? F**K! THEM! UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!! Kavorog: I open the side door. GM: grins evilly Have you seen the movie Tremors? Luckily the dragonborn escapes being eaten by the tentacled murderworm. The hordes of goblins and hobgoblins on this level aren't so lucky, and get eaten alive by the wave of berserk PCs.

In which Ripper K, changeling porn star, branches out into human trafficking - to whit, auctioning off that arcanoarcheologist who commissioned us to kidnap him and then couldn't pay. True, he's willing to go along with this, but he'd better pray the data in his brain chips is actually worth what he says it is. Or we will be quite cross. Oracle: I mean we COULD just rip the data out of his head... Shell: I should do something about the phobia of nudity I have – it never comes up. GM: Excuse me?! Look who's sitting next to you. Ripper K: looks innocent Shell: I'm living in an abandoned railyard. Sure, it's a very advanced rail yard, but - Ripper K: sings Monorail, Monorail, Monorail, Monorail Since the orca is the best at bargaining, he gets Poe to disguise him with a Physical Mask spell. Ripper K: I'll ARESearch 'random elf' – make me look like him. Poe: Any competent mage will see through the spell. Shell: Any competent mage who can see through the spell will be peeing a little. That raven shapechanger still wants to be part of the team. Poor, poor fool. Ripper K: Can we call you Quoth? Or Nevermore? Poe: Please don't. Streetrat: Birdman. Ripper K: Harvey XD The groups coming to the auction include the Draco Foundation, the Atlantean Foundation, and Wuxing, a new megacorp. Shell: Oh joy, a bidding war. Ripper K: Well, that is the idea of an auction. Shell: I didn't say it was a bad thing. The Draco rep is the one that hired the team to recover that obsidian artefact a few weeks back. The Atlantean rep is the prick that wanted the artefact and didn't care about the woman who'd been carrying it. The Wuxing rep is new to us. If it wasn't for Astronauta Peligroso's distinctive appearance (and musical accompaniment) there's no chance the Atlantean rep, one Mr Nazir, would even recognise us as the same team. Still, it does give us opportunity to play the rival corps off each other and drive the bids higher. Ripper K: I'll mention 'in passing' that Draco has a good reputation for employee care XD (Actually, that's not quite true. The Draco Foundation would have drained the arcanoarcheologist's brain and shot him in the head the moment they find out what he knew. Just as well we never knew ourselves.) Streetrat: If only we could put a magical compulsion on them 'I MUST WIN' The shampagne is being poured when the assassins strike. Wisely for them, they're using long range weapons so they didn't have to try and penetrate our sensor net. Luckily for us, we spotted it just in time and could step in the way of the shot. Unluckily for us, it's an anti-tank rifle. As the SPLATANG echoes around the abandoned hotel and Shell's entirely metal and ceramic body proves its worth, we scramble to get the arcanoarcheologist, the corporate reps, and ourselves to safety. Not that the sniper was a threat for long, but you never know what their Plan B was. Still, we got paid. Shell: ooooh, yeah. I rub those nuyen on my synthetic nipples. The TacNet Oracle set up is proving pretty damn useful too. Ocelot: I'll be sure to say 'thankyou, Overlord' when we're done. Oracle: Have to be nice to the potential nascent AI. Of course, Oracle is going to have to take the nexus down for upgrading. And keep himself awake for the entire time with designer drugs. Oracle: 'Estimated time to completion... one month' Ocelot: The f**k???? Ripper K: Well, I had some movies to film... Oracle: I'll finish the nexus upgrade first – THEN I'll work on Project Usurper. Ripper K: That's not ominous at all. Ripper K: So after a month of sleep deprivation you're going to be working on something called Project Usurper. Oracle: Actually I'll need to do Project Thousand Monkeys first. Ripper K: ….. right. Oracle: I need to get 30 Buster Moves. So I can make a distributed network to run the agents on. 30 animatronic toys wired together. Poe: That's amazingly twisted. Oracle OoC: I need to commission a picture of this... Shell and Astronauta Peligroso knock down a building while wrestling. Ocelot: Remind me, electricity does bad things to drones, right? GM OoC: Yup – Shell's chassis becomes sentient and ejects his CNS. XD Ripper K OoC: His brain pops out the top like toast from a toaster XD Shell: Make yourself comfortable. There's some body bags in the back room. Ocelot: So.. you heard about sleeping bags at some point but didn't get the memo? Shell: These were cheaper. Ripper K: And they come with toe tags so you won't forget who you are? Poe: You creep me out a bit. Shell: That's all right, ravens are symbols of death, you're inherently creepy too. Poe: I do look like Severus Snape. Shell: I get the feeling I shouldn't trust you with children. But then nobody would trust me with children either. Poe: Well, we do tend to eat our young, it's OK. Streetrat: I'm starting to feel I shouldn't trust either of you. Shell: I've always wanted to be a shadowrunner – I've always felt bad when I've had to kill them. All: …. Shell: One of them managed to cut me in half. All: … Shell: They got away but I did get a commendation for shooting one of them in the arse. And afterwards I thought 'I want to be that guy'. Poe: The one you shot in the arse? Shell: The one that cut me in half. And today I think I was that guy that got shot in the arse. Streetrat gets a call from his dad Labrat: *singsong* Hellluooooooooo All: cackles Streetrat: That is so not Labrat. Ocelot: Unless he's been out on the town with Inkubus and got into something really interesting. Oracle: 'I have something to tell you' Ripper K: 'I'm actually your mother' Oracle: 'And your father – it's amazing what they can do with genetic engineering these days' One Dr Caroll, an expert on AI, wants to be extracted from the Matrix company Datadyne. No doubt people have been hearing about our extraction of the arcanoarcheologist. Odd things about the client – nobody has seen them. Or even knows if they're male or female. Maybe they're an AI themselves? Oracle: So an AI is researching AIs? Shell: Not outside the realm of possibility. Oracle: I know - the quest to understand oneself is as old as humanity. We get to work researching the building Caroll is in – particularly ways in from underneath. No point repeating our zipline stunt from last time. The public plans probably can't be trusted – Ocelot suggests rigging a Centipede Search-and-Rescue drone with millimeter radar, send it into the sewers, and map the entire building from the sewerage system. The drone – which Oracle names Shitkicker - produces a full 3D map of the building and reveals some very odd sources of EM interference. Nothing pointing us towards Caroll, but the basement labs are only accessible from secure elevators. Not that secure, however. We could, for example, smash through a wall and go down the lift shaft. Shell: Assuming we do go with Operation Kool-aid Man, getting out again in a hurry might be a problem. Although possibly not, given all those useful winches and autorappels we can order by the crate, and the 2070 equivalent of card skimmers. And our Rigger, Streetrat, piloting Shell's cyborg body. Plus of course going in disguised as couriers to get better info on their security, and plant the dissolving card skimmers. Maglock scramblers to slow pursuit will also help. Ideas like these cheer us up. On the other hand, we also have the increasing suspicion that one of those basement labs is highly radioactive. Awkward. Just as well Shell is mostly artificial. Oracle: And if we take some lead-lined Thermoses we can bring some that stuff out with us. Actually no. Let's not start dealing in radioisotopes. GM: You'd have very angry Iranian terrorists after you. And very happy toxic shamans. So the plan is – half of us use a stealth ultralight to get to the roof, and use the executive elevator to get into the basement labs. Poe will fly up himself. Shell will just have to get used to the fact Poe has to arrive naked. Astronauta: I replaced his underwear with a g-string XD Ocelot: I thought about it, but I was too mature to actually do it. Oracle, Astronauta, and Streetrat will wait at ground level in the van with shaped explosives for the Mr Kool-aid Extraction. Oracle: POWERPUNC- sorry. I'm stepping on your schtick. Astronauta Peligroso: shrug Oracle: I'll make up to you – I'll buy the tower plate of nachos. Security Guard at the Heli-pad: We weren't expecting any arrivals. Are you guys supposed to be here? Ripper K: Actually, yes leaning forward with electroshock hand Security Guard: Just let me call this i- ZORCH Oracle hurriedly hacks the guard's security equipment, before the biomonitors can report the guy's condition to the security desk. Oracle, as the guard: Sorry guys, I tased myself. Security Desk: Again? For fuck's sake, Charlie... Ripper K: 'That's the third time this week' Ocelot: 'Save it for the bedroom' Ocelot: If you see any important-looking workstations, can you spray this on it? It's Screen-capture Spray – 3 days from now I'll send Shitkicker back in XD First problem – the executive elevator already has the CEO in it. CEO: Who are you? Shell: Escorts ma'am Ocelot: hisses to Ripper It's your job to poke her now! Ripper K: …. Shell: Oh, come on, we give you a straight line like that? Ripper K: Nice to meet you *leans forward with electroshock hand* CEO: *drawing pistol* – ZORCH Her own security pass will be useful. Ocelot: I'll put her on the couch, so she won't be quite so apocalyptically pissed when she wakes up. Oracle: You did just steal a pistol worth three grand.

Went to see Mad Max : Fury Road last night - highly satisfying. I was cackling and applauding and bouncing in my seat so much Purrdence had to hold me down at times. Although she was getting pretty bouncy herself. I noticed her making small impatient noises at the traffic lights on the way home. Me: You want to scream through the intersection waving the steering wheel over your head,don't you? Purrdence: *blushes and nods*

D&D - The Anticlimax At Wyvern Tor D&D – Still sans their gnome sorcerer, but still attempting to exterminate the goblinoids at Wyvern Tor. On behalf of a dragon we want to kill anyway. And who is looking more and more like he'll be a recurring villain in the campaign, thanks to our knack for wildly overcomplicating everything. As with Shadowrun and Black Crusade - a few weeks of sessions combined into one post. GM: Elethandiel's player isn't here this week. Lamech's Player: That's alright – we'll send him ahead to trigger all the traps. After all, he WAS GMing when three different pairs of monsters all went after me. GM: And the gnome had most of the party treasure went he vanished into thin air. Kavorog: And for that I hope he went to the Plane of Infinite Spiders. At least the ogres had some interesting treasure, including a magic backpack and a amulet of the god Helm. Thorn, the Helmite Cleric: *yoink* Ta. That copper dragon and his fairy dragon friends needs to be informed. Urlon: Our friend the gnome has gone to another realm. Cuprasulfa: What? Thorn: He achieved apotheosis and became God of Supreme Bullshitters Cuprasulfa: … yeah, I can believe that. Cuprasulfa: So, what's the good news? Urlon: That was the good news. Cuprasulfa: What??? Cuprasulfa: I'm in a green dragon's territory? Or he's in mine. Thorn: Well, you were here first. Urlon: And there's an even larger green dragon on the other side of the hills. Cuprasulfa: I think I'm going to be ill. *horks up an orc skull* Sorry, that's been stuck in my gullet for days. Thorn: Well, he's not a very BRIGHT green dragon. Lamech managed to convince him we were dragon cultists. Cuprasulfa: Well, Green's aren't very bright, just vicious. Although Reds are worse. And Whites are just STUPID. And Blacks hang out in swamps, how clever can they be? Thorn: Do you know the spell Explosive Runes? Cuprasulfa: No. The fairy dragons keep telling me to learn Explosive Runs, but I don't know any jesters that can teach me. Cuprasulfa: Join me for dinner. Do you care for orc? Urlon: With my survival skills we won't have to rely on Russians – Rations! GM: Or Russians. The Phandalin villagers are surprised to see the group plus dwarf and sans Lamech. Villager: What happened to the gnome? Urlon: Ogres. Villagers: Ogres? Urlon: Yes, he vanished into another dimension. Lamech's Player: And hopefully isn't re-enacting the adventures of Lemmywinks the Gerbil. The Blackhawker half-orc clan have shown up, claiming hereditary rights to the ruined mansion and the dungeons underneath – mostly on the grounds that that they overran and interbred with the noble family in question, generations ago. They have some supporting evidence – ancestral plate armour, and the saga tattooed into the flayed skin of their grandfather, that sort of thing. Thorn: I'd also like to know how they heard the mansion was empty. Villager: Good point. Sildar: I hope you didn't send either dragon up to the mansion. Urlon: Why? Sildar: Because it's already crawling with delegates from both sides, standing guard over that chasm in the dungeon. And the gate to the Shadow Realm in it. Urlon: Um. Sildar: Would you like some food before you head up? Kerak: Sure. A full feast would do nicely. Urlon: Well, maybe not a feast. Thorn: If Lamech was still here he'd be recommending a light meal and methamphetamine. Kerak: Dwarf Moss. Urlon suggests we invite all the delegates to the feast, so we can get an idea of their strength. They agree, apparently with large grins. GM: Guess who's coming to dinner. GM: Dinner break, then dinner with the orcs! With lots of feasting and mighty oaths and breaking of mugs. Thorn: And pissing off local monsters with noise law violations. Religious differences aren't going to help either. Best make sure nobody brings weapons. Kerak volunteers to run the cloak room. Kerak: It'll give me a chance to examine their arms. GM: The half-orc leader orders his men to hand over their long arms, but their keeping their daggers to eat with. Thorn: True enough. Half-orc Leader Seyr Lochlan: I'm not giving over the symbol of my honour. Urlon:... that's fair. Lochlan: Especially not handing it over to orc-haters. The Blackhawker's bard recites the saga of how they used Shadowy Paths to get their revenge and triumph over the Tressanders, and cart off their treasures and any survivors. Kerak OoC: The Rats in the Walls... It looks increasingly likely that their claim is genuine, and despite the mutual contempt the Blackhawkers and townsfolk have, there might actually be a way to recruit these half-orcs against Venomfang – assuming we can get the townsfolk to recognise the claim. And they aren't allied with the Many Arrows orc clan at Wyvern Tor. What a pity the party's diplomancer is MIA. The night continues with only minor squabbles, arm-wrestling, arm-twisting, barmaid spinning, drunken miscegenation, etc. Kerak: Any gobbos to chuck? GM: There IS a goblin... Thorn: How about dwarf-tossing? Kerak: Come on and try it, buddy. One somewhat worrying observation on the roof the next morning - Something large shat on it. Venomfang? GM: Could have been a random Roc. Phandalin is nominally an independent township – but since the Many Arrows Clan are known warmongers, and have attacked Neverwinter, it's looking increasingly likely that the town will have to become an official protectorate of the Lord's Alliance. Plus, fear of the army might keep the Blackhawkers from simply becoming the next gang of thugs controlling Phandalin. And here we all are at the sharp end. Lucky us. Also, there's still all those side quests and reconnaissance we need to do before we get every ally, clan and mercenary group we can acquire to go against the goblinoid forces. We need to ask Agatha the Banshee about Bogentle's missing spellbook, investigate rumours of an evil wizard at Oldwell, and scout out Wyvern Tor and King Gurnt's castle at Cragsmoor. At least the first three are on one road, if we go the long way round. And if the orcs at Cragsmoor and Venomfang make alliance, then we're completely fucked, even with an army to back us up. Not least because they'll have control of an important mountain pass. Off to Agatha's. Along with a pretty standard encounter with a patrol of hobgoblins. The clerics and paladin keep the goblin's attention while the ranger and barbarian sneak around to attack them from behind. Urlon: We should have started shooting the moment they got within range. Thorn: Perhaps. But this way, if they run away, we can shoot them in the back. Once the hobs are dead, we find one of them is carrying a sketch of a blue dragonborn, and a reward offered of 20 GP, signed with a black spider. Kavorog and Elethendial exchange a glance. This is not a good sign, if the conspiracy and the goblinoids are working together. Agatha apparently lives in a gazebo. Kavorog: RUN! Banshees are bad enough, but ones that live in gazebos? Terrifying. And no party diplomancer. Agatha: Foolish mortals! Do you not know it is DEATH to seek me out? Thorn: Forgive us, respected Oracle, but our need is great. We bring a gift to assuage your anger. We're supposed to ask, on behalf of the Harpers, the whereabouts of Bogentle's spellbook. Or perhaps Bojangles. GM: Next to Elvis' Blue Suede Shoes. Kerak actually debases himself flattering the elven creature, which flatters her, but it's not enough. At least she doesn't kill us all, so we can come back later with more gifts, perhaps. Urlon attempts to swap an answer for information about Venomfang. This backfires. Agatha: Reeeeeeaaaallly. Bring me a pretty from his hoard, and I may answer your question. Oldwell has an old watchtower – a good dragon lair, as if it matters now – but the reports of undead sentries are not the kind of thing to inspire confidence. Especially since necromancers need to be killed on sight. There's a colourful tent in the courtyard of the old tower, but nobody visible. We prepare massed fire arrows and a charge, which goes off very well. The necromancer is dressed in red, has a shaved scalp, sallow skin, and a tattoo. Red Wizard of Thay! Kill the fucker! Red Wizard: Hold your fire! I'm willing to talk! I'm not here to hurt anyone! The zombies stop as well. This is extremely odd – we exchange glances, and parley (although the snipers on the hill keep their arrows trained.) Urlon: We were TOLD there was an evil wizard here. Red Wizard: *offended* Who told you that? I am merely here on an archaeological expedition. These are my field workers. The Red Wizard offers to answer OUR questions, if we ask Agatha a question on his behalf. Red Wizard: If you're after loot you're in for a hard fight. I'm a necromancer – my vengeance only STARTS when you are dead. He's appalled to learn that there's a green dragon to interfere with his work as well. Red Wizard: Who told you this? Kavorog: We have advance knowledge. Red Wizard: Hmm, I wonder if I can make a dracolich... Tell you what, if you kill all the orcs at Wyvern Tor but leave the bodies intact, I can expand my workforce. That helps you, doesn't it? I can fill the Tor with undead immune to his breath weapon. If you swear an oath to ask Agatha a question for me. Naturally the IDEA of assisting a necromancer in anyway sits VERY uneasily with Urlon and Thorn, but we should at least consider this.... he'd like us to ask Agatha the Banshee about who built the ruined tower his zombies were searching. He even offers a magic ring as payment. By this point Thorn is wondering if Lamech somehow managed to dose everyone with some of his more interesting mushrooms. But he's off in Star Trek TOS on the Marijuana Planet. Of course, we can alway kill the Red Wizard later - although he'll have more undead servants then. Urlon: And if we DO end up fighting him we'll get more XP Red Wizard: This ring is a relic of an ancient empire. Only a being as old as Agatha will appreciate it. Kavorog: Looks like an old wedding ring to me. Red Wizard: Close, but totally wrong. Thorn: I have a suggestion – deal with the Tor, kill the dragon, then ask Agatha his question so he'll leave and take the zombies with him. Red Wizard: He's your party cleric, isn't he? Kavorog: He doesn't like you very much. Urlon: I don't like him very much either. Red Wizard: None of you like me, we've established that. So, in alliance with the necromancer, do we attack the Tor in daylight or night? Orcs have darkvision. So do we. But the necromancer's spells might be better at night – magical Darkness negates all sort of magical vision and illumination, and could be quite a surprise to nocturnal monsters. And cast on a pebble, in a clay jar, it could be used as a grenade. After sniping the guard, the two dragonborn leap the gully that acts as a natural moat. The rest of us have to walk. Kavorog: Would you rather I throw you? GM: THERE WILL BE NO DWARF-TOSSING IN THIS CAMPAIGN. As a side note, the discovery that Wyvern Tor is merely a natural spire of rock with a few small caves is a problem - this is not the kind of thing we promised Venomfang. We also hadn't expected an ogre in residence. Kavorog: It's all Ogre now! Kavorog goes into a berserk rage, which goes about as well as expected. GM: It happens everytime – the barbarian goes berserk and two rounds later the rest of the party is climbing over his body and trying to revive him. Kavorog: I'm not going to kill him if he keeps his word! I HAVE a code of honour! Thorn: So, what DID you do to that kobold? Kavorog: …....... no comment. The GM makes the mistake of opening some exposition about the Netherese Empire with “A long, long time ago” which starts me humming “American Pie” and eventually leads to a detailed explanation of a certain infamous college football game. Kavorog: What does this have to do with Netheril again? Heading back to try and bargain with Agatha a second time, we run into a unit of Orcs, with a Black Orc and an Eye of Graumsh in charge. Formidable. Of course half the PCs want to pick a fight. Given the handful of Orcs and the Ogre at the Tor would have killed us twice over if not for Thorn and Karak's healing spells, this is a bad idea. They pick a fight anyway. The Eye casts a Bless spell on himself and the Black Orc. Kavorog: Geek the mage! Amazingly, we prevail with comparative ease. Evidently someone in the party had a favourable horoscope that morning. And they wee carrying pretty enough loot that we should be able to ask Agatha the banshee TWO questions. Assuming we can actual be persuasive enough. Which is doubtful. Thorn: 'Hey, you ugly elf ghost, you answer question, me give you pretty thing' In the end we have to hand over ALL our prettiest loot before we can assuage her wrath at our 'compliments'. At least we get both the answers we were after. We have a sudden suspicion that the missing Bogentle's spellbook is in the same tower the Red Wizard was excavating. This would not be good. On experience points and how close we are to the next level. GM: I think the dwarf is short - headdesk

Shadowrun 2070 - Fun With Ziplines Weldun: Sitting around a table where all the chairs match feels false. Dumpster Dive Chic. Van: We call it 'Derelique'. Those of my players who were in my Call of Cthulhu campaign still remember it fondly enough to regale the newbies with 15 minutes of anecdotes. Such as Aldous Quinn's infamous boxing prowess. 'I shot them with this shotgun officer' 'Why?' 'Because I'd have killed them if I'd used my fists' Draco Foundation – An organisation set up by the late president Dunklezahn Oracle: Just call him Unky Dunky Humanis Policlub - Racist f***s. Reputation : Target practise Miracle Shooter – An Augmented Reality live action shooter game. Quite popular, and a good recruiting tool for the military and covert merc groups. Knights Errant: Currently providing Seattle's police force, at very reasonable rates. I missed two sessions, but got a synopsis. They set a corporation up for a later run by inserting a software agent (named Raffles) into their systems, and getting a detailed 3-D map of the entire building by wandering around inside with plans and hidden radar sensors, after the management heard about new communication technology and wanted a quote on rewiring the building. Ocelot: We went into the Ork Underground looking for someone and got attacked by an invisible ceiling crocodile. Ripper K: What? Ocelot: We managed to stun it and carry it out. No-one's ever confirmed they exist before so we're going to sell it. Ripper K: And add a new chapter to Newt Scamander's 'Magical Beasts And Where To Find Them'. Ripper K: You sound a bit stressed there, should I bring something? Boots: Let me check – some more blood would be nice, but I don't think you're my blood type. Ripper K: I'll pick up a sixpack of gangers, you can use them as squeezepaks. On to Pirate's Cove, to find a smuggler who may or may not have information on a woman – one Fiona Craig - who was bringing an Artifact into Seattle. The first client – probably from the Draco Foundation - wanted her back. A second client - the Seattle DA - wants the smuggler. A third client wanted us to recover the black volcanic glass artifact, but we don't care. Oracle: I didn't like the way they approached us. So f**k 'em. Plus I'd been having a bad day. The ridiculously useful Bloodhound sensors on Oracle's dragonfly drone confirm we're on the right track, despite a distracting encounter with gangers that Astronauta Peligroso successful intimidates with his Mexican Wrestler Intimidation-fu. Boots: Ironically the gator is worth more than the job we were supposed to be doing. Oracle: WAY more. It's an uncatalogued paranormal critter from an urban environment and we caught it ALIVE. And a lot of the buyers don't ask questions. Boots knows someone in the business. Boots: True, he's an uncle. I'm an Ork, I have lots of uncles. Of course strolling through the Ork Underground in the company of assorted military-grade drones will attract attention. Oracle: If they don't like my toys they can answer to my toys. A future PC, Nevermore, makes the mistake of spying on the group in the form of a raven. Oracle: Well, I always wanted to try skeet shooting. Boots: I've got mixed feelings about Proposition 23. Oracle: It's just a vote on whether the Underground is recognised as an official district of Seattle, and gets to vote on Seattle council business. Boots: There's still a mix of positives and negatives. Oracle: Humanis is going apeshit. Boots: That's one of the positives. Oracle: I'm expecting lots of work against racist f**ks. Pirate's Cove is a impressively large underground river. Oracle: And if you look at the ceiling you will NOT see invisible alligators. Ripper K: So what's the wireless like? Boots: laughs hysterically Oracle: It's just improved - because we're here. Boots: Stay alert, it's likely somebody else is looking for Uncle Turner. Ripper K: It he another one of your uncles? Boots: This is the Ork Underground – everyone's my uncle. Boots knocks on the door and gets jolted across the street by a charged Ward. Boots: Well fuck Uncle Turner then. Oracle's drones do some chain gun carpentry. Boots enters. Boots: UNCLE. I'M HEEEEERREEEE Ripper K: Let's just hope he wasn't on the way to answer the door. Boots is encouraged to leave again by a fire spirit. Boots: I tag a luchadore. Astronauta, you're up. Astronauta Peligroso charges in and mauls the spirit, despite being badly wounded by the alligator earlier. Ocelot: Magical troll luchadore to replace the troll sledgehammer-user Streetrat's dad used to work with. Astronauta Troll adepts are effective. Boots: Just don't rub their bellies. Ocelot: What are the walls made of. Ripper K: Plasterboard. Ocelot: We probably should have checked if anybody was inside first. Ripper K: Yup. Boots: I'm operating on pure disgust for the universe at this point. Uncle Turner also has Ork guards and ceiling mounted track-guns. He also has the woman we're seeking - apparently he was going to double-cross her and try to get a better deal for the artifact. UncleTurner: Don't come any closer! Or I'll shoot the girl! Ocelot takes advantage of Oracle's TacNet and infravision to shoot the gun out of Turner's hand. Through the wall. Boots: Get out from under the table, Uncle, it's embarrassing. Ripper K: *turns to the 6 guards and shrugs* Family. Boots is rather annoyed at Turner's unprofessionalism – attempting to double-cross a client is never good. Despite the kind of things Shadowrunners are famous for. Turner: I thought I could get a better deal! Boots: ….... it's over. *rings his Dad, Labrat* Dad? I've got some bad news. Turner: *goes white* Boots: Unless you have something for me, Uncle. Turner: It's in the safe! Labrat agrees that execution for this treachery is entirely called for. Boots: Put this on. *throws a blindfold at Turner* The obsidian object in question is recovered, and the woman safely retrieved. Maybe we'll get a bonus for finding both. Boots: Hey, Streetrat! Why do you have a head in the fridge? Oh, nevermind, it's a cake. Why do you have a head shaped like a cake in the fridge? Er, cake shaped like a head. The other way around would be even more disturbing. Love the raspberry icing. Streetrat: Don't touch that, it's for Dad! Boots: Is that an actual vibroknife? Streetrat: Yeah, it's his birthday present. We get our pay, and a bonus, and we put the money for the alligator towards getting Prop 23 passed. The DA is annoyed that the smuggler is dead, but we have video and medical proof that he was threatening a hostage. We just don't include the second bullet. Boots has also joined Knight Errant, which means he won't be going on runs any more (sort of a conflict of interests there). Ripper K: Does this mean we can trust you to look the other way when we're on a run? Oracle: I promise to use non-lethal rounds when you're in the area. Boots: The replacement I'm suggesting has a... bit of a personality. Oracle: Actually, I think Astronauta Peligroso has more than enough personality for the entire team. Boots: Well gentlemen, I won't be seeing you again, except as Officer Montgomery. Oracle: Don't take this the wrong way but I hope I never see you again. Except on Miracle Shooter. Boots: Astro, I'm not shaking your hand – you f**king scare me. Oracle natters on about his phenomenally useful custom medevac drone. Ripper K: You should sell this design to DocWagon. Oracle: Not yet. I had to do a lot of work on the Valkyrie chassis to get it to work. It's only a few feet long – it needed to take a full human. Ripper K: Cut their legs off automatically and sew them on again at the destination. Oracle: … Oracle: I need to get a Big Rig. For Big Jobs. Streetrat: Don't call it Mek-Quake. http://static.comicvine.com/uploads/scale_medium/1/13925/291040-181255-mek-quake.jpg Boots' replacement turns up at a Miracle Shooter tournament, carrying half of Boots stuff. He's a bit conspicuous. Oracle: He's dressed like a Corp who's seen one to many Shadowrunning Vid-shows. Shell: Hi! I'm Shell. You must be Streetrat? Streetrat: What gave it away? The tusks? Oracle: I should warn you that the other Miracle Shooter players think I cheat. I've talked it over with the organisers and they agree that what I do isn't actually illegal. Shell: Boots told me he had a decker with a TacNet? Oracle: He really knew how to undersell, didn't he? Oracle: And now we go kick arse at Miracle Shooter. Whiny Pissbaby: They hacked the game! They knew exactly where we were! Oracle: It's called millimetre-wave penetrator radar, ya d*ck. Ocelot: I imagine you tag them all as 'Whiny Pissbabies' on the HUD. Shell: bang bang bang Got 'em. Nevermore shouldn't do nearly as well, since magic actually is illegal in Miracle Shooter. But with the TacNet and advice from the other runners it's almost easy for him as well. Maybe he WILL do well on the team. Oracle: Spiritual entities won't show up on the TacNet – it's a limitation. Although if I can get some RFID-infused fluorescing astral bacteria... Another job arises – a hostile extraction. No doubt our success with the last job impressed potential employers. The meeting takes place atop a skyscraper, where our fixer has been paid to drop off a few mysterious crates and arrange an Augmented Reality meeting with the actual client. The client's avatar is a reptilian figure with Egyptian themes. Composure tests are failed. Client: I AM THE SCION Oracle: If you're not taking this seriously I'm leaving. Shell: Externally I'm impassive – but inside I'm SQUEE. Scion: THE DRACO FOUNDATION WANTS TO EMPLOY THE ARCANOARCHEOLOGIST PARKER ACSON. HE IS CURRENTLY AT A HORIZON CORPORATE BANQUET ON THE BALCONY OF THE BUILDING OPPOSITE. YOU HAVE 15 MINUTES TO ACQUIRE HIM. Ocelot: With this short notice? Are you kidding??? Oracle: Actually... we can do it. If you can get a harness on him. Ever seen Batman Returns? Scion has arranged a crateful of useful material and tools, including gecko setae grappling guns. Oracle: Even better. There he is.*mimes targeting and shooting* The other end of the line is attached to my heavy drone And even that might not be necessary – Astronauta Peligroso can easily swing across the street, grab the guy, pull a King Kong, and slide back along a second line, while the rest of us provide covering fire. Then we rappel back down to ground level and our vehicles on the far side of this building. Although the blue dragon tending bar, the multiple security suits, whatever the maitres de is, and the possibility Acson is a mage, complicates matters. Our sensor drones are two blimps and a stealthed fighter jet. Nevermore 'It's Been A Good Year... (but not for much longer)' Oracle has an even better idea. The first grappling line and Nevermore's Magic Fingers to snag Acson, and a second grappling line diagonally between the buildings to act as a break on the line when we haul him in. All this is worked out in AR while Ripper sets up the escape lines. Add stun rounds to knock out Acson, and rifles to target anybody else, and this should be easy. First problem – the magical ward around the balcony stops the Magic Fingers. Second Problem – All the gunfire Ripper put into the maitres de was barely enough to knock him unconscious. This guy was heavily cybered. If he wakes up we're in trouble. Oracle: Just picture how this appears from the other side 'Yes, this an excellent meal, I'll have th-' RATATATATATATA shattering glass YANK. 'What the f**k just happened?!' Oracle: I should build a drone that could grab him halfway across the street. Ripper K: Caw caw motherf***ers. Oracle: I need to build this drone. Still, we're just so awesome that we're already heading for our escape route with the target before the security team get over their surprise. Security Team Reviewing the Footage Later: Look at this! Look at this! How long did they take setting this up? Oracle: Eh – about 5 minutes. From getting the job to execution. We ring the contact number Scion gave us. It doesn't get answered. And Acson's phone starts ringing. Oracle: … he contracted his own extraction. Oracle: We just extracted our Johnson... what, no comment from Ripper? We know you're a former porn star. Ripper K & Nevermore Former? Oracle: Dude, porn is still a solvent industry, why are you even here? Ripper K: Adrenaline. Oracle: Plus it was a niche market. Changelings are out of vogue now Streetrat: And he can't get up any more. Nevermore There's bionics for that now. Ocelot: 'Penis goes up, penis goes down, penis goes up, penis goes down' Nevermore 'Honey, I love you so much I'm going to give you the security codes for my penis.' Oracle: 'Honey, could you please stop playing with the controls, I'm given a presentation' Shell: 'Under any other circumstances it'd be funny, but it's about child protection' Ocelot: Cut to the house, a drinking bird is tapping away at the button. Acson: I don't have the money right now... Ocelot: Don't kill him, we won't get paid. Shell: Technically we're still on the clock. He claims the corporate knowledge in his head makes him a prize catch for any corp. Maybe we should sell him to the Draco Foundation. Or set up a bidding war. Oracle: The more corps get involved the more likely someone will try to extract him off us. And hiding the bodies is so tiresome. We DO still that contact number from the last job. Oracle: Hi Mr McAlliston. Remember me? From three weeks back? Turn on the Horizon News. Oracle: I have no idea what to do next– since when do WE set up the meets? Fixer: What sort of meet do you want to set up? Ocelot: Information exchange and a transfer of Wet Resources Oracle: Right – all the corps we invited to send reps should be on their way. Unless somebody plays dirty, which is unlikely with an hour's notice. Ripper K: Look what we managed in 5 minutes. Oracle: Yeah, but we're actual Shadowrunners. Ripper is Masked as an elf for the meet, while the rest provide overwatch, sensor sweeps, etc. The area for the meet is horribly rundown. Streetrat: Dude, I LIVE here. Shell: I understand the squatters travel in packs to hunt, and mate. Oracle: …. there's nothing I can add to that. We secure the area. The sudden appearance of all these security drones makes the locals very nervous. Hopefully it'll make the corporate reps too nervous to try anything as well.

My brother has found another MMO to terrorise. It's called Rust, and Ian observed that the economy of the game revolved around hunting down down other PCs and selling their organs for meat. So he decided to become a long pig farmer. He hunts down sleeping PCs while the players are offline, builds cages around them, and steals all their stuff. When the players wake up they're naturally a bit annoyed to find Ian walking off with all their stuff but they can't even get out of the cage because he took all their tools as well. He's been getting hate mail from the admins begging him to just kill the other PCs. Weldun: You make a resource-management survival game and then complain when someone finds a way to manage resources efficiently. That also happens to torment them. Ian: FATMAN spreading hate evenly. And Pigman is making a come back. Sack on head and head out squealing. And leaning over slowly and asking do they want to squeal like a pig and when they say yes I set fire to the building. Of course, since the admins begged him to start killing people, he has. But not straight away, and not by himself, oh no. First, as the Pigman, he targets and imprisons newbies. Then takes off the sack, heads out and 'rescues' these individuals, who of course are absurdly grateful. Indeed, Ian's maskless persona is widely acknowledged as the friendliest character on the server. But once he's earned the trust and gratitude of these victims, he recruits them. Ian runs a trade shack - other PCs bring him goods in returns for guns. Then Ian messages his recruits, has them follow the customer home, raid them, steal the guns, and bring them back to the shack. The customer then has to grind for more resources, go back to Ian's trade shack, and buy another gun. Rinse and repeat. Customer: I used to have a gun just like this one, but those raiders stole it. Ian: The bastards. By the way, the price of guns has gone up. Players started complaining - not because any of them figured out Ian's scam, but because everybody was working flat out gathering resources to buy the same guns over and over, and that got boring. Ian, naturally, rectified this, by dressing himself and his crew in pumpkin masks and rampaging across the server, and building a giant Hollywood Sign on the hills reading "YOU HAVE BEEN RAIDED BY THE PUMPKIN CREW". This is the first thing newbies see when they come onto the server. The resultant carnage spawned rioting and violence galore, made the server more popular than ever, and has PCs turning up at Ian's shack, dumping armfuls of loot, and demanding guns so they can retaliate against anybody they suspect of being on the Pumpkin Crew. Ian has helpfully framed a few people in that regard, planting pumpkins on sleeping PCs, announcing he's found one of the Crew, and having them hounded across the map by howling mobs. He's started remodelling his base, as well. As a giant pumpkin. People have noticed this, and also noticed that his base hasn't been raided by the pumpkin-headed maniacs. Ian: I'm showing my respect to the Great Pumpkin Spirit. That must be why the Crew are holding off. And they believe him.

The last couple of sessions of Black Crusade, which I have been too busy to write up properly, and therefore forgot the context of half the quotes. Also, it's the remainder of the Dark Heresy scenario Damned Cities so expect spoilers. Digna - Heretek who still passes as an investigator for the Adeptus Mechanicus Lord-Captain Daniels - dissolute Rogue Trader Eniek - corrupt surgeon with a talent for warpcraft Skerrit - mutant precog and cartomancer The Judiciary Evandus Idrani, Seventh of his Name - The former governor, now hopeless insane thanks to a curse set on him by the PCs The Judiciary Evandus Idrani, Eighth of his Name - His son, who helped. Xabius Khan - Chief Enforcer for the Sinophian nobility - a corrupt thug Marshal Skarman - Head of the small contingent of Arbites on Sinophia, who deal with crimes against the Imperium, not little things like murder. Fihad Constantine - Skarman's helpful adjutant and liaison officer. The Rag King and Queens - Leaders of the Sinophian criminal underclass The Obsidian Resolve, carrying thousands of Imperial Guard troops that they evacuated from Cauldron, has returned to Sinophia and received a daemonic visitation that bade them search for the rest of the unnatural mirror fragments, in return for knowledge and power. Daniels: The new governor made it abundantly clear that he appreciated everything we did, and that he wanted us all to go away and be appreciated elsewhere. Digna: And now we're back. GM: With thousands of troops, no less. A ticking clock is introduced - at the edge of the system, the Imperial starship Ignacia has arrived, bearing Inquisitorial investigators - apparently the Imperium is quite concerned about Digna's reports about mind control of the former Governor. I wonder why. It will reach planetary orbit within the week. The name Ignacia does lead to some conversation about homoeopathic macrocannon batteries, but it can't be helped. How to find the other mirror fragments? Perhaps summon a daemon to find them wherever they may be hidden in Sinophia's wretched capitol? Digna: Fleshhounds of Khorne can actually hold an idea in their heads for more than five seconds. At least the new Governor seems to handling the position well, even if he DID participate in the ritual that drove his father insane with paranoid hallucinations. Digna: Compliment him on the smooth transition of power GM: Yes, the planet hasn't completely collapsed into chaos. Yet. They dress to match the fashions of the nobility - Skerrit is dressed as the comedic relief. Skerrit: Giant Afro. Digna: Don't bounce around too much – wig comes off, tail comes out, and the next thing you know we're burning down the building. Skerrit: Nobody expects the clown to be the ninja, right? Distractions, regarding an old and often hilariously bad cartoon called SilverHawks Digna OoC: Tally Hawk had two buttons - Go out and Be Awesome, and Come Back And Stop Showing Us Up. Peanut Gallery: And a dial Digna OoC: Yeah. For setting the level of Awesome. Digna OoC: That's my next Black Crusade character – a Mumm-ra rip-off The heretics summon up a minor warp entity of cursed red fire and send it off in pursuit of the nearest mirror fragment. It returns clutching somebody's arm, the hand still clutching the mirror fragment. Oddly enough, the bearer of the arm appears to have been dead for some time. Even more worrisomely, news soon reaches the party that some daemonic force chewed through the security at the former governor's mansion, and slaughtered the governor. Digna: Can we get a quiet word to the current governor that 'It Wasn't Us'? GM: If this WAS the son covering his tracks, he's botched it. A truly successful assassination won't be recognised as such. Digna: It probably wasn't us … although it DID happen the night we summoned a daemon Digna: 'We didn't knowingly have anything to do with this' Eniek: Compose yourself – these deaths have nothing to do with what you did. Evandus Junior: I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING Eniek: Keep telling yourself that. Just keep in mind – when the Inquisition arrives, we are more frightening the they are. Evandus Junior: If the Inquistion come after me, I swear I'll take you down with me. Eniek: … Quite. That's a nice thought, isn't it? The Governor hasn't been the only victim, either. While the PCs were gallivanting off to Cauldron, two other nobles and an offworlder moneylender have been horribly killed as well. This latest death is the last straw - the nobility are fully prepared to blame the poor quarters of Sinophia for these assassinations, and firebomb the tenements so as to impress the Inquisition with their zeal. The PCs already know another mirror fragment is in the position of the government's chief enforcer, Xabius Khan, in the form of a medal he was awarded for excellent service in the brutalising civilians department. Time for Digna to charm her way into the mildewed hall of records, to research making a duplicate of the medal, and, as it happen, stumble across not only another mirror fragment, but clues as to which noble houses might have more. Apparently Marshall Skarman of the Adeptus Arbites has been making similar inquiries - and that Augury Skerrit cast months ago did imply that SOME agent of the law was up to no good. They all just thought it was Khan. Who, admittedly, was also up to no good. Digna runs into Skarman and a posse of his Arbites on the way out, and enjoys a nicely paranoia-inducing conversation. And then she runs into him again, at the gate. Door Security: But sir... I just let you into the building! Marshal Skarman and Digna: ...Wot. Cue the reveal that the Skarman she met inside was a psychically disguised zombie master. Ghastly revenants go after the lords and ladies of the capitol, while the fake Skarman gets quite upset that Digna beat him to the mirror fragment in the hall of records, but eventually gets his head blown off by Skerrit, which won't help with IDing him. The zombies all appear to be mutants - or, perhaps, were mutated after death? GM: Admittedly they probably didn't have all these bullet-holes, either. Off to the ominous tower now occupied by the Arbites - the heretics are by now aware that it was built by Erasmus Haarlock, a very ill-omened character indeed, and who supposedly vanished decades ago. It's also nearly certain that the mirror fragments were looted from the tower after Haarlock's disappearance. There is no way in hell that this is a good thing. Still, going up there to talk shop with the Arbites' forensics officer, and drop a few hints to incriminate Xabius Khan, can't go wrong. Digna: Although I do not wish to speak ill of the man, his somewhat extravagant lifestyle may be curbed by an increased Imperial presence. Fihad Constantine also expresses his concerns about his superior, who hasn't been sleeping well - but adds that there have been a number of suspicious deaths rumoured among the ruling underclass as well. Costantine: As you said yourself, ma'am – I don't wish to speak ill of my superiors. Eniek: It may not be warpcraft – changes in pressure from the storm may affect the humours and addle the mind of those in stressful positions. Skerrit: It looks like somebody else is after the shards. Digna: This is a good thing. We let them collect the rest of the shards, then hit THEM. It makes our job easier. Time to arrange a meet with the Rag Kings and Queens. Happily, the PCs are now so intimidating, that it's not that difficult. Eniek: I wish this meeting to be expedited - Fixer: Wot? Daniels: He's having trouble dumbing down the language. Eniek: And when they stare past my lenses they can see there's no eyes. Eniek: Evidently to become a Rag King you need a lose an arm. The three criminal overlords - a former torturer, and her associates a slab of muscle, and the Loanfather himself, confirm that a number of the lesser Rag Kings have been killed. And they're actively alarmed at Eniek's query about mirror fragments, since some of them were known to have 'scrying mirrors' and the like. There's still one who does - time to race off and try to beat the zombies there. Too late - the attack is under way. Happily, Digna has built herself a cyborg brute, with a giant combat drill for an arm. The carnage is indescribable. Digna: We'll send Mr Bubbles in first – it's kind of what he's built for. Digna: Mr Bubbles – activate Little Sister Protection Protocol One. Of course there isn't a sister yet. I need to kidnap a small child and transform her. A debate over whether the enemy are mutated zombies, or zombified mutants. Digna: So zombie takes precedent over mutant. It's important to make these distinctions. GM: Well, the head sort of comes off under the sheer centrifugal force. WHIRR TEAR RICOCHET BOUNCE BOUNCE BOUNCE Small Boy: I want one of those, Mommy! There's also one last noble suspected of having a mirror. Being heretics, they don't particularly care what happens to her, even if it kicks off rioting in the streets (ESPECIALLY if it kicks off rioting in the streets), but do place her under surveillance so they can track the zombies back to their base. Digna: Eh - She's lived a long life. Eniek: If we were acolytes of the Inquisition we'd be worried by this. Digna: If we were acolytes she'd be 'sacrificed in the greater good of getting to the bottom of the problem.' Digna: It's really hard for an Inquisitor to get the answers he wants when people are dying all over the place. Time to frame Marshal Skarman for all these murders and Warpcraft, incriminate Khan at the same time, get all the mirror fragments, and watch the city burn. Off to Haarlock's tower, where the Arbites are currently trying to deal with the rioting in the streets, and demand Adjutant Constantine get Skarman and Enforcer Khan to the tower right now. While they're waiting, Eniek and Digna poke around Skarman's personal quarters, and find a hidden stairway leading up to room with warpcraft symbols engraved into the floor, and two mirrors - one smashed. How terribly convenient. Marshal Skarman: What does that have to do with me? Digna: Nothing – but that now you make a convenient scapegoat. *paralyse his larynx* Khan shows up to, and reacts predictably when he realises Digna knows about his smuggling associations, etc, and already has a second 'interrogation chair' set up next to the unfortunate Skarman. Unfortunately for Skarman, Eniek and Digna have so radically altered their own bodies with warpcraft and cybernetics that bolt pistol rounds just bounce off. Digna: If you're quite done – please take a seat Eniek: Please inform Arbite Constantine that the gunshots were a misfire. Daniels: All twelve shots. Digna 'interrogates' Khan enough to get all the confessions she needs to incriminate both of them, and then ensures they both 'unfortunately expire'. She then lets Constantine know the good news he's getting a promotion to Marshal. And then they can reassemble the mirror, and start negotiations with the entity trapped inside. Digna: Don't taunt the daemon. 'Why, will it kill me?' No, it's tacky.

*grin* and the newspaper photo they used as a dartboard. re: the Saltes - it's a fine dry powder that a body has been reduced to, and that can be reconstituted into a living being by the Resurrection spell (see Lovecraft's 'The Case of Charles Dexter Ward') . Bad things happen if the Saltes are contaminated, or worse, mixed with those of more than one body. The resurrected are functionally immortal, too.

*grins* And there's a good range of MLP RPGs out there now, too. Such as 'Savage World of Ponies'

That's an understatement. Does it still have the spice rack of Essential Saltes, and the coffin labelled 'reserved for previous occupant' in the basement?

D&D continues, with sidequests proliferating galore. Now we have to attack a bunch of orks, on behalf of a dragon, who we're hoping to assassinate anyway. And we still have no idea why King Gurnt is kidnapping dwarf miners, or what this increasingly notorious map is. The dwarf who originally hired us must be quite annoyed no-one's come o rescue him yet. Plus, through in the mysterious conspiracy and it's obvious we're going to be at these for years. PC Characters so far: Lamech Judocus, gnome wild sorceror Urlon, Elf fighter Elethandiel, Blue dragonkin fighter Kavorog, Blue dragonkin fighter-mage But a dwarf – one Kerak Darkstar - HAS turned up to investigate what the hell is going on, and exercise suspicious eyebrows about our own activities. Such as standing around in dragon cultist costumes, with a pile of half naked humans in one corner. Kerak: And they are? Lamech: Dragon cultists. Kerak: There was a dragon around here? Lamech: Still is. Kerak: What's it been doing? Lamech: Bossing people around. Exercising his megalomania glands basically. Kavorog: We offered Venomfang the Wyvern Tor orcs as minions. Kerak: Minions? Lamech: Meals on heels. And of course there's an even bigger green dragon off in that direction, so if Venomfang finds out that he's moved closer to the territories of at least two other wyrms, there WILL be trouble. Especially if one is granddam to Venomfang. : This is why you shouldn't meddle with the environment. Lamech: Hey, YOU were the one that wanted him moved on. The druid's apprentice transforms in a wolf and runs off to deliver our message back to the village of Phandalin. Lamech: If you really want to be dangerous transform into a Cape Buffalo. GM: I think we can safely assume you're not going to the Jungle of Chult so he can learn how to shapeshift into a dinosaur. Lamech: Eh. Cape Buffalo are bad enough. And hippos are worse. Karek insists we investigate Venomfang's lair while he's out hunting. This is probably suicidal, but then, so is getting into an argument with a dwarf. Kavek: I'd be dead with treasure than alive without it. Lamech: Spoken like a true dwarf. Lamech: You know, if the dragon comes back we'll tell him we brought you as a sacrifice. GM: Do you want to search through the chest? Lamech: This is a really bad idea. I'm saying this now so I won't have to later – assuming I live long enough to do so. At least some of the treasure already smells of us, which should make Venomfang less likely to hunt us down after he gets back. There IS a magic dwarf battle-axe named 'Hew'. And Lamech gleefully replaces the scrolls with blank paper. Kavek: Can we replace the gold with copper? Lamech: We can be pretty sure the dragon knows the difference. Kavorog attempts to clean the patina off Hew. GM: And every collector in the world rises up to murder you. A small encounter with giant spiders passes without comment, even if Lamech got webbed and bitten, and we set off for Wyvern Tor. GM: Lamech sets the web and himself on fire. You've never seen a gnome go “WHOOF” before. Lamech: No, but the druid's apprentice did when he turned into a wolf. We run in two rangers on the march back towards Neverwinter and Phandalin, who want to know who this party of adventurers and half-naked prisoners are. Lamech: Neverwinter BDSM Club Field Trip. Kavorog: This one's my favourite *rubs the cult leader's head* Handing over the prisoners, we cut across country back towards Phandalin. With any luck we'll run into some wandering monsters. A school of land sharks, or dire gerbils perhaps. Kavek: What about were-rabbits? Lamech: Too dangerous. : We'll more likely to be attacked near dawn. Lamech: We're more likely to be hit by meteors in the morning, too. We're also more likely to be hit by ghouls. Lamech is soon reminded that the undead are immune to Sleep spells, and is badly mauled Lamech: Oh, that's very fucking thematically appropriate, that is. GM: You're half the gnome you used to be. Lamech OoC: At least Turn Undead works. It's like holding a crucifix up to a Christian vampire. Or a joint to a Rastafarian one. Kavorog, like a raging idiot, heads off in pursuit of the fleeing ghouls, and finds himself quite a distance from the fire before the adrenaline wears off. Happily, ghouls aren't bright enough to set ambushes. Urlon: Don't give the GM ideas. The ghoul we did manage to take down was wearing magic armour. Urlon: You can wear leather armour, can't you? Lamech: Yes? GM: Rubber gives him hives. The next day we get ambushed by ogres. At least, they probably THOUGHT they were ambushing us, but boulders generally don't carry clubs. Or hold small sprigs of foliage in front of them. They charge Lamech anyway. Lamech: Not again! Given how the ogres uses him as a hockey puck, it's probably very lucky that the wild gnome sorcerer vanishes into thin air just before he dies - Punted into the next dimension. Happily, the other manage to kill the ogres, while Lamech gets a quick tour of the USS Enterprise, Ravensloft, and elsewhere. Hopefully by the time the astral bungee cord snaps him back, the others will be rested enough to stop him actually dying from his injuries.

Shadowrun – the other 2070 campaign Apparently in the session I missed, the other characters went white-water rafting, got stuck in the middle of a d*ck-waving contest between Salish-Sidhe and Aztechnology, started a fire, and filmed the subsequent escalation. I should probably be grateful I missed this, even if there was ice cream at the end. For one thing, some-one as distinctive-looking as Ripper would be even harder to conceal in the camera footage than the other runners. Oracle: Remember, I AM legally dead. Ocelot: 'and if you say anything, you can be too' Oracle also proposed nightmare fuel in the form of hundreds of Buster Moves – dancing plush toys with rudimentary AI – wired together into a twitching, staring, supercomputer. Fortunately, he's short on the funds to build this horror – keeping ahead of the software arms race is expensive - unless we can find another job soon. Boot's fixer makes an early morning priority call. Strelok: Good morning, comrade. I have a job for you if you're interested. Boots: Music to my ears – I need to buy that muscle toner somehow. Apparently extra security is needed for a meet at The Sports Bar, in Freeway Park. Boots: I've been there a few times when I was a kid... those poor ducks. Boots: For most Shadowrunners, 11AM IS mid-morning. Although it will be a problem for Oracle – he DOES have a day job. Ripper K: It's a complication Boots: Just like I'm an albino. And vindictive. Ripper K: At least you don't have to worry about UV in Seattle. Boots: Hey, Ripper, is this going to get in the way of your deviancy? Boots: These conversations always reach the point where things get awkward. I LOVE working with you guys. Ripper K: I'm going to call up an ARESearch Maps wiremap of the park – because if I had a missile launcher, I want to figure out where I'd be firing from. It turns out that could be from anywhere – the freeway running through the park, the hi-ises all around... Boots: There are so many, many ways this could go terribly wrong. Not least because, as a AAA Security area of Seattle, us standing around with automatic weapons will attract attention. Oracle: See if you can get some tracer rounds. Tracker rounds, I mean Tracker Rounds! Ocelot: I suspect that slip was intentional. Ripper K: Just order them off Amazon and one of the delivery drones will drop them off – you're an Amazon Prime member aren't you? And then throw in the convention of security types at the pavilion. There's a rather high number of large people in suspiciously well-tailored suits wandering about. The fact that Oracle's drones will be running on a pre-arranged script, and the chances that this is going to go wrong wrong rise exponentially. Ocelot: It has only just occurred to me that Shadowrunners started referring to the people that hire us as 'Johnsons' so we can call all our employers dicks. Oracle: They do say a run isn't over until the Johnson has screwed you, somehow. The runners chat about the run Ripper missed. Ripper K: I do swim very well – I probably wouldn't have needed the raft. Oracle: White-water bodysurfing should not be a thing. Oracle is stuck doing his mystery day job where he has to log into an apparently random MMO for a few hours. GM: And this week it's Glitterworld 4. Oracle: Oh f**k. Ripper K: Hmm? Oracle: Idol management MMO. Ripper K starts tagging civilians, security-types, and suits on the TacNet. We don't recognise the gathering suits, which we will no doubt regret very soon. Feeding the photos into face recognition software doesn't help. Ripper K: It's those shiny teeth – they blind the cameras. The doors are closed when a large and sparkly individual, with a highly attractive Orc girl on each arm, arrives. He's on the guest list, but he's late, so he won't be getting in. Of further note, his escorts are heavily but covertly armed. There's NO WAY we're letting him in. Boots: It's the Penguin. Oracle: Miraculously resurrected after his run in with a daemon. Ripper K: Didn't your dad meet this guy? Boots: I'm sorry sir, but there is no way I'm letting you in. But if you wait I'll make a call. Penguin: You get stuck in traffic and this happens. Go on, make your damn call. Boots: *winks at the orc escorts * Hey babe. Ocelot: This is why we needed Oracle on duty – he could have blacked out everything below the neck. Then the Halloweeners show up. A loud and themed biker gang. With flamethrowers. Ripper K: There's no way this isn't a distraction. Boots: Hey Strelok. We've got gangers inbound with flamethrowers in a AAA zone. Strelok: … How??? Ocelot: What's the legalities of shooting them when they enter the pavilion grounds? The thing we're not supposed to notice is the lone dog, packed to the gills with unmarked augmentics, that's strolling towards the pavilion. Ripper moves to intercept. Oracle: I'd have packed it with surveillance hardware – it's a beagle. You have to call it Snoopy. Boots: That's adorable. Have three bullets. 'You can tell I'm a hardcore gamer because I like hurting animals' GM: The Halloweeners stop in their tracks and go '…. dude!' Boots: Let 'em. They're next. One bike gets its wheels shot out, and the other goes up in a fireball. Boots: We've got one ganger who's bike doesn't go vroom vroom anymore and the other is one with the flame. Ripper K: Oh look, it's some sort of bipedal incendiary device. Knight Errant is surprisingly understanding, and ask us to come down to the station when we're off duty. After all, we are there as semi-legit security. Ripper K: So, if I was making a run against this pavilion, what would my third line of attack be? Probably the gardening droid that is making its rounds in the middle of the day. The one that stinks of liquid explosive. Boots: Ripper, it's all yours. Ripper K: Is it safe to shock it? Boots: NO. Ripper rips the 'pesticide' cannister off and throws it in the pond. Boots: I'll leave that for Knight Errant to deal with. Wait, this park is full of civilians... 'Let's play in the fountain, mummy!' GOD NO. Ripper K: Want me to pull the tracks off? KE will probably want to run cyberforensics on this. Boots: Just hit the off button. I know I've unleashed bulletstorms today, but... There's a few minutes of the meet to go. The security conventioneers across the road are watching all this with fascination. Conventioneers: What the fuck did he just do? Into the pond? …. Alright then. And then an apparently random assault happens nearby. And the woman attacking's hands start to inflate. Ripper K: The f**k? It's anaphylactic shock. And another distraction, but probably not one we can ignore. Boots: Hold this – Orc running towards you with a rifle is never reassuring. And recognising the situation, one of Oracle's drone scripts trigger – the medivac drone launches. Boots: Ma'am! I have something to tell you! *stabs her in the neck with an EpiPen* And you! Stand over there! Assault Victim: But she hit me! And then the meeting of fixers, and our job, is over. It seems just barely possible that the medical emergency WASN'T a set-up. Ocelot: Has anybody come out of the pavilion yet? GM: Yes. Ocelot: Good. If they hadn't I'd have gone in and started counting bodies. Oracle: We need more jobs like this. Boots: Ocelot, High Five! Ripper, Jazz Hands! The Fixers: What the frell happened out here? Ripper K: Surveillance cyberdog, bomb attack. Boots: And Halloweeners. Fixers: We didn't hear a thing! Ripper K: Thanks. Oracle: They can probably still hear the medivac. Ripper K: And that was probably unrelated. Oracle is quite pleased that his drone scripts worked so well he didn't even need to give them additional orders. And the fixers are so pleased with us that they'll probably keep us in mind for future jobs. Boots: And lets sell off the organs from the dog. Ocelot: Well, cyberwear. Ripper K: The organs are kind of... all over the place. GM: A 20 thousand nuyen dog... blown away with 10 nuyen worth of bullets. Boots: High Five, Ripper! Argh, my wrist, what have I done... Of course, Oracle is still going to need another job this month just to cover his expenses. GM: Hacking is a high maintenance lifestyle. Ripper K: Blowing the dog apart in front of all those kiddies was entirely necessary. Of course, after the game Weldun points out everything we did wrong – he does security IRL. Weldun: Like that woman who was having the attack. She was outside your perimeter – why did you leave your post? That said, I don't know a single security guard that wouldn't go help. In fact, if I knew one who refused to help, on those grounds, I wouldn't work with them. NPC: Your forehead seems bigger these days. Oracle: Why thank you, I've been working out. Ocelot: Lots of Sudoku.

D&D - Dealing With Dragons D&D Continues – more sleep-deprived efforts to gather intelligence before attacking King Gurnt. But, typically, any advances we make is complicated by more things we have to do – in this case, deal with a dragon – and not the cute faerie dragon we already know. Lamech: Well, I've got my book of useful devices – let's see if there's any dragontraps. Lamech: I don't suppose I could make a cart-mounted ballista? GM: No. But you could always make a toy one – you've got 'Tinkerer' Kavorog: We might be able to negotiate with it – green dragons are lawful evil. Lamech: Maybe we can talk it into attacking King Gurnt XD Druid: I used to have 'Entangle' but it got deleted from my deck 15 years ago as too powerful. Although the bondage fairy might have had something to do with it too. Lacking any better ideas, Lamech whittles a harpoon, tethered to a water barrel. And with any luck, his Shatter spell will collapse the ruined tower before we even need to face the resident. Of course, if we can get the dragon to simply leave we can consider the job done – but none of us are that optimistic. Not least because the tower is also full of giant spiders. And apparently there's a group of masked humanoids hanging around the ruins of Thundertree village too. Lamech: *headdesk* Kavorog: We're going to be taking more prisoners, aren't we? Lamech: Well, we needed bait for the dragon. Lamech: So we're got three people all trying to lead the group, and two bringing up the rear. Jostling for pole position. Kavorog the dragonborn shoulder-charges the door of the building the wannabe Death Eaters are hanging out in, and bounces off. Lamech: *sigh* Wannabe Death Eater: Who goes there? Kavorog: YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE *firebolts the door* Our back-up cleric attempts to shield-bash his way in too – and he bounces off as well. Lamech: Well, if these guys know there's a dragon in the village, maybe they'll think it's trying to get in. Kavorog: Maybe they're dragon worshippers. I hope they are – they'll be all over me. Got some hot bitches, yeah! GM: Well, I think the polite option is off the table. Urlon: I thought you were going to try and talk them down. Kavorog: Nope – I was going to talk to the dragon. Death Eater: (in Draconic) Hold them off! We'll use the other door and go around! Straight into Urlon, and Lamech's Sleep spell. What a pity some of us know Draconic too. GM: Right, their saves vs. Sleep. ... Nope. Not as such. Snorlax. The survivors drop their scimitars and quiver after Kavorog roars at them. Their masks have little horns, and their cloaks batwings. Urlon: Dragon cultists? GM: Or demon cultists – do you really care? Lamech: Take them of one at a time, and torture them for info. Let the others hear the screams. GM: That could wake the dragon. Lamech: Good point – we'll gag them first, then torture them. They are actually dragon cultists. Lamech: Wannabe dragon cultists. Urlon: Pathetic. Cultist: *looks pissed off* Kavorog: *pats the cultist on the head* There there. The cult-leader wannabe promises as secret knowledge, etc. in return for an alliance. That, at least ensures we keep him alive for future interrogation. Although he might be useful if we DO try to sic the dragon on Gurnt. Thorn the cleric: I'd like to point out that's an evil act. But it could work. The other cultists seem a little reluctant to actually talk to a real dragon. Urlon: Lamech, can you do Ventriloquism? GM: Don't ask the gnome to put his hand up the dragonborn's arse. Lamech: If you stay within earshot of wherever I'm hiding I can suggest conversational attacks. Kavorog: Cyrano de Bergedrac Perhaps we can dress as cultists, and persuade him to move to Wyvern Tor? There was an orc problem there. Urlon: Do we really want him closer to the town? Lamech: By the time we have to deal with it we'll be higher level anyway. Or if we pose as the cult, and deliberately piss off the dragon, and then encourage the cult to go visit, we can eliminate another problem. Thorn: Wiping out an evil cult is NOT an evil act... Urlon: I want to make sure I disguise my ears - I don't want him to bear a grudge against my race. GM: And go out of his way to kill wood elves, instead of just killing them casually. Druid: I'll go and prepare to support you, when it all goes horribly wrong. Lamech: *hissing cues to Kavorog* 'Lord Wyrm! We crave your indulgence!' Dragon: I AM VENOMFANG! THIS IS MY TOWER! Lamech: 'We come from the Cult of the Dragon to give obeisance!' GM: 'Whatever the gnome hiding under the bush just said!' Lamech: 'We bring gifts as befit your majesty!' Venomfang: HAVE YOUR DIPLOMAT COME OUT WHERE I CAN SEE HIM All: ... crap. Lamech actually persuades it that Wyvern Tor will make a better home to befit a true Wyrm. Complete with Orcs to enslave. Venomfang, despite his youth, is no fool, and wants to know what the catch is. Lamech suggests attacking King Gurnt would be appreciated. GM: You're inciting a Forgotten Realms dragon to dragonrage. This is not difficult. Problem – he wants us to prepare Wyvern Tor for him, by killing the orcs in his name. GM: You're appealing to green dragon psychology. By posing as minions it can boss around. Thorn: Dragons don't like being told 'no'. It's a winged teenager with big claws and wings and really bad halitosis. Of course, if we do take Wyvern Tor, we can fill it with traps for the dragon's arrival. Such as big banners saying “Welcome to Wyvern Tor!” Kavorog: 'What's that tiny writing along the bottom? ' 'Guess who prepared Explosive Runes today' BOOM. Lamech: Are there any zombies actually left? Druid: I never did a census. Druid: You're a druggie, aren't you? Lamech: I appreciate the natural pharmaceuticals. Druid:.... you're a Wild Sorcerer. Lamech: All natural, that's me. Druid: There’s nothing natural about Wild Magic. Lamech: More natural than daemonic pacts or being some kind of freak hybrid. Druid:... good point. But first, let's see if we can find that buried treasure one of the prisoners at the Red Brands base promised us. Not a problem. At least we coming out financially ahead on this trip. And chains from the smithy will be useful in getting the real dragon cultists back to the authorities. More ash zombies is less useful. Kavorog: How are we going to carry an anvil? Lamech: Make the prisoners carry it XD GM: And they won't be running anywhere if they're tied to it. And then we get ambushed by triffids. Lamech: I think I was too startled by Thorn yelling in my ear to notice the plant monsters. Elethendiel's Thunderwave spell is pretty loud too. Lamech: And all over town zombies shuffle up of their ruins and stare up at the sky going 'uuuurr?' uuur... doesn't look like rain...' GM: Waving umbrellas, and muttering 'I thought they moved that air force base' Throw in all the giant rats the detonation panicked, and you can understand why we give Elethandiel some rather dirty looks. GM: To the north are the zombies. To the south is the braying of a very large goat. To the east is the snorting of an angry boar. We can safely assume there are no sharks. We flee back to the building with the prisoners, luring the zombies into an annexe and sniping at giant angry wildlife as they circle. GM: So who are you going to Enlarge Lamech's player: They're all asking for it. GM: You're PCs, of course you're asking for it. GM: You can hear the boar moving away from the building. Lamech: It's about to charge the door, isn't it. Yup. And the giant goats launch themselves at the windows. So we're stuck in a small room with monsters coming in every door and window. The boar backs off for another charge, and is pursued by an Enlarged, Raging, lightning-breathing Kavorog. Hopefully this will result in bacon. At least the chaos seems rather startle the goats, too. A much needed reprieve...

Indeed.

Shadowrun 2070A : Goth Rockers The Shadowrun campaign in which Ripper associates with a geriatric misogynist elf, an Orc Santa, Shirley Temple, and a fox, continues (the other campaign in which he associates with rather more professional individuals missed a session) The scene opens in the graveyard where we wasted so much time last session. The GM has helpfully added a large encarmine fish to the map. Dr. Rubicante: Th-that's a giant fish. Ripper K: very *eats it* Dr. Rubicante: That is literally a red herring, isn't it. Ripper K: yup - lets make lutefisk Dr. Rubicante: At least it's good for your heart. GM: Yes. that is literally a Red Herring. Dr. Rubicante: IS IT THE GRAVEYARD BOSSFIGHT GM: YES. YOU FIGHT A GIANT VAMPIRE FISH AT THE END OF THE ADVENTURE Dr. Rubicante: THIS IS THE SIXTH WEIRDEST THING I'VE DONE (Your mother is number one.) So around to the home of one of the surviving members of JetBlack's band - one Marli. She lives as a recluse in an impressively gothic mansion. Dr. Rubicante: I like this place. You don't really get architecture like this anymore. Shirley Temple: If she has a butler called igor I vote we leave Dr. Rubicante: Probably best we don't eat anything she offers. It also has impressive Astral security, which doesn't help our case when we politely ask if we can come in and talk to her. Intercom: ...Uh huh.. and I'm going to assume that the Watcher spirit you just sent to test my wards was a courtesy? Tell me exactly what you want, or Drek off. Dr. Rubicante: Maybe we can leave Ryleigh there to guard the cars. He can be our eye in the sky too. What do you say, Fox? Ryleigh: Do I look like I want to go in there? You'll probably get eaten by some paracritter. Have fun! Dr. Rubicante: Y'all know that does look like it'd house a paracritter or two. Inside, the house is just as haunted looking as on the outside. Ancient looking fireplaces, furniture that seems to be from the 18th century, cobwebs in the corners.. either this place was specifically modelled to look like this by someone with an amazing attention to detail, or this might just be the real damn thing. When we enter, we're greeted by a holographic projection. It's Marli, looking just as she did in her publicity photos 20 years ago. Ripper completely assumes this is the Real Marli and doesn't even realise it's a projection. Dr. Rubicante bows his head graciously and enters the sitting room, giving it a look around. He traces a finger over a wooden armrest to see if it was dusty before taking a seat. He didn't want to get his suit dusty, after all. Dr. Rubicante: Is there a rocking chair by a fireplace? Ripper K: *whispers to the Doc* She's looking fabulous, isn't she? Dr. Rubicante: Absolutely beautiful, despite her age. Externalised Misogynist that he is, the Doc assumed Ripper was talking about the house. Ripper explains how the team were hired to recover the disc, and our client claimed it was stolen, but given who had it, and what happened afterward, we're beginning to think we were lied to. Marli: Shame what happened to K-Spot, really... We've been able to cure most cancers for years now, but.. he was just one of the unlucky ones. Dr. Rubicante: K-Spot? Ripper K: *winces sympathetically* I'm sorry to hear that. But I'm afraid that his son got into even worse trouble. Which is why we came to you - we need to know just how much trouble we're in for getting involved. Marli: So Little Kerwin tried to sell it off on the black market? Why didn't he come to me? I would have helped him.. Ripper K: If we'd gotten to him sooner, ma'am, I'd have told him as much. Marli: ...you mean.. Ripper K nods sadly, Marla sits, dejected, and stares at the floor for a few moments, seeming to collect herself. "The disk. you still have it?" Ripper K: *nods* but we have to warn you - a dozen people have died over this already. Hundreds of thousands of nuyen changed hands. And the assassins didn't even try to negotiate first - they just came in shooting. But since it looks like JetBlack meant the disc to get to his old friends... Marli: Can you play it for me, just for old time's sake? Ripper K: That shouldn't be a problem, should it? Marli: *smiles* Not from your commlink. Please. My studio is this way. And then we get led to the basement. Dr. Rubicante: La vie en rose, Inception style Her studio is small, but exceptionally well equipped. The soundproof room has a production quality editing suite and a few comfortable chairs. Dr. Rubicante: Anyone know how to use this stuff? Shirley Temple: I can tell you how much it costs, sweetie, and what an input roughly looks like but that's about it Marli: Oh my.. You don't have the encryption keys, do you..? a shame.. well.. let me see what I can do about it. Ripper K: (holy sh*t! is there a paranoia skill i should be checking right now?) GM: I know. Perhaps that should give you an idea of how much she knows about the disc? Dozens of knobs and sliders across the editing board begin to move of their own accord. The low quality audio becomes clearer, though not perfectly so. you sense that she is a master at this. You can really feel the emotion in the music now. it's some truly beautiful Rock. Ripper K listens to the music and almost purrs Dr. Rubicante: You know, I wasn't too keen on this band back in the 50s, but it's growing on me 20 years later. Ripper K is hoping like hell Fox will give us warning if Marli's summoned a killteam Marli: Ah yes.. I remember these sessions. Carrion Studios, right? These were not long before he died... I used to have the full recording myself, but it got lost in the second crash.. I always regretted not having backups. Dr. Rubicante: You're telling me. I lost my third Harry Potter blog in that crash. Marli: I assume you're Shadowrunners, then? Dr. Rubicante: We were simply at the right place in the wrong time. Ripper K: Given the amount of nuyen the other parties were throwing around, i'm starting to think we were the discount special. Oh right, that reminds me? Do you have any idea why the music was on an old format like this? It was sheer fluke the eldster here had some old tech that would run it. Marli: It really depends on your.. employer. As for the disc, JetBlack always had a love for the little-used formats. Provided a little extra security. Do you know who hired you? Dr. Rubicante: Can't say we do. We were told that he was a some sentimental sap and that's all we know. A lotta blood spilled over a little sentimentality, if'n you ask me. Ripper K: The middleman did want to know who the thief was - but if there was no thief I don't know how to read that. Either the middleman had been lied to as well, or he was a very convincing liar himself, and was giving himself plausible deniabilty if Kerwin 'vanished' So you can see why we're concerned - this was supposed to be a straight-forward, low-risk recovery job Marli: Hrm. I'm not sure how much danger you're in. And I'm not sure whether you'll be out of it even if you just give me the disk, or give it to your employer. Ripper K: That's what we were afraid of. And if we don't get paid, we can't even afford to flee town. Marli: Look.. I think I might.. might, mind you - Know someone who can help with this. If you leave me a number I can get in touch with you and you can lay low for a day or two, I'll see what I can do. I believe those recordings should be available to the world. JetBlack's been dead for twenty years, after all.. I don't think he'll mind much anymore. Dr. Rubicante: The world could use some more good music. I'm tired of Dwarfstep and Orc rap. OoC shenanigans while the players assemble for the second half of the session. Ripper films the elf showering, and sells footage to internet preverts. Shirley Temple: but but.....we are internet perves Ripper K: that'll be 20 bucks then Shirley Temple: no comprenday americano Ripper K: 50 nuyen then. Inflation. Updating a player on events so far. Ripper K: We went to see Marli, she eventually let us in, doesn't know how much trouble we're in, and claims she doesn't have decryption on the disc. We pretended we didn't either and that it was sheer fluke the geriatric elf has a disc reader so the club doesn't get any backlash Dr. Rubicante: My attic is a trove of mysteries and sexual confusion. Ripper K: It's certainly starting to look like we have to take the disc to the client. Anybody suggest how we can do that without another killteam shooting us all in the head? Somewhere nice and public, I suggest - with no long lines of sight mages or snipers can use and plenty of escape routes for us. Dr. Rubicante: Mask! Mask everyday! Ryleigh: How about a café vis-a-vis a Knight Errant HQ? Ripper K: nice - unless, of course, the client just tells the cops we were involved in the explosion at the junkyard. Of course, we could always tape the hand-off, and incriminate him back... but frankly, i think our reputation is going to be f**ked anyway. We get a call on the disposable phone. The voice on the line is deep. male. and Obviously Processed. Voice: Good Evening. I have heard from a friend that you have an item that I may be interested in. I also am aware that you are currently under contract to give this item to someone else. Before you do that, I would like to provide a counter-offer. I am quite certain that I can provide a better offer for the item in question, and indeed, ensure your safety for returning it, if you will just agree to hear me out. Ryleigh sends an text message to be displayed on the other's commlinks. Ryleigh: If he takes care of the previous client, he can be our new client. Ripper K: This sounds like a highly desirable offer, Mr Johnson - Naturally, given the incidental expences that the item has already incurred, such a counter offer will need to be commensurate, although the security bonus you mentioned will be taken into account. Voice: I am willing to offer you Twenty-Four thousand Nuyen for the item. Plus our assurance that this matter will not impact future employment opportunities, and a guarantee of safety from repercussions of this particular deal. I am aware that the item is indeed worth much, much more than that to the right buyers, but the price of safety in the 6th world is.. high. Ripper K: A very generous offer, Mr Johnson - do you have a preferred locale for the hand-off? Or shall we arrange a suitably secure area ourselves? Ryleigh sends another text message. Ryleigh: It kind of sounds too good to be true... Dr. Rubicante: Ask him for more. I need to repaint the porch or the home-owners committee will be on my ass. Ripper K: *on text* nods - we may have to ensure a MAD policy, with back-up blackmail. *out loud* Shush, Dealer, the grown-ups are talking Voice: We do indeed have a drop location. You will be met by another team who will handle the exchange, and provide protection if required. The address is as follows... Ripper K: .... feeling of Doom rising... Dr. Rubicante: I'm going to spend some gold to upgrade my security to "Luxury". The new Mr Johnson wants to meet at the JetBlack memorial Dr. Rubicante: Odin's glorious beard- that place again! Ripper K: Welp... at least the gravestones will make for good cover. That custodian is going to be pissed though Dr. Rubicante: I'm going to buy grenades. Lots of grenades. Dr. Rubicante: Rigby? Grenades. No, no, I haven't gone senile yet. I want to know if you can get me flashbangs, smoke bombs or concussive grenades. I swear I'm not going to go on a warpath today. GM: 'You need how many grenades? *tonight? We meet at the cemetery in the small hours before dawn, with due caution. The other team, of some five people, is already there. Ripper K: Evening. I sincerely hope you're the people I'm supposed to meet, because I don't want another night like the last one. Other Team's Apparent Leader: Evening. My name's Risa. Apologies for the location. My employer thought it was appropriate, given the circumstances. Do you have the recording? Ripper K: *nods* And we'll be glad to get it off our hands. This was NOT a satisfying job. Dr. Rubicante: A whole lot of running around, dead ends and bullets fired. Not my idea of a good time. We'd very much like for this job to end. Risa: Good. It needs to go back where it belongs. You see, I represent JetBlack’s interests. Those recordings were given to a friend of his before he died—he never meant for them to be available to the public. Ripper K: Actually, that's the best news I've heard in days Risa: If you’ve made any copies, you’ll destroy them. If they ever see the light of day, we’ll know where they came from, and believe me, you do not want the people I represent as your enemies. I apologise for the thinly veiled threat, but my employer wishes to make perfectly sure you are aware of the terms. Ripper K reaches into his jacket for the disc. Ripper K: Incidentally... I don't suppose you know why that other team turned up and just started killing people? Seems like a good way for the disc to be accidentally destroyed. In fact, it damn near was. Dr. Rubicante: Didn't you say... that you represent Jet Black's interests? ...Is your employer Jet Black? One of the NPCs fails a rather important composure check. JetBlack: ..H..how? how could you possibly have.. Ripper K jaw drops when he recognises the voice. Other than his skin looking a lot paler, he hasn't changed at all in the last 20 years. Ryleigh: Someone has skills other than entertainment, it would appear. GM: Also, f**k you for making me make that composure check. Shirley Temple: the entire situation screamed "NOT DEAD" Dr. Rubicante: We're both fans of vocal processing, aren't we, Mr. Black? *taps his own flaming hologram skullmask for emphasis.* The way you spoke on the phone however... the cadence of your voice reminded me of the passion in your song.Well, that, and c'mon, we're meeting in your 'grave'. And the threats? Ripper K: Ve- Dealer, please, shut up! We're very sorry we caused you all this trouble, sir. We honestly believed we were recovering stolen property. Dr. Rubicante: Ripper, I very rarely get excited. We're in the presence of a celebrity. Allow me to have my moment of delight. GM: Blip. Blip. Blipblipblip. The drone sensors light up. Ryleigh: we have company? Dr. Rubicante: Ah... of course. Ryleigh: Contacts at 6 o'clock. Dr. Rubicante: Mr. Black, it was lovely to meet you, but perhaps we should get to that escape you promised. Dr. Rubicante practically cackles as he rotates his shoulders, his voice shuddering excitedly. Dr. Rubicante: Oooh, a bad run! I agree with my large friend here... you lot should run. We'll cover your escape so you can pay us some other day. But JetBlack and his team instead take up firing positions of their own. Ryleigh gets to work using his drones and Matrix skills to ID, tag, and confuse the hostiles. Ripper K: flood their HUDs with 'win a free iPhone' ads Ripper insists we shoot to wound. Ripper K: Until they start shooting back in earnest, anyway. Ryleigh sends everyone a updated map with enemy locations, as well as telling them 'pineapple' is the code word for the flashbang grenades his drones will be dropping. Dr. Rubicante: Mmm. Pineapples. I could go for a piña colada after this, if only those still existed. Hogfather is suddenly feeling really dumb, having climbed onto the church roof for overwatch over the meet ... and not having brought a rifle. Still, he's a very good shot with a sidearm. Hogfather: Ah, F**k it. BANG GM: Aiming for the obvious mage, as is standard practice. Ripper K: *snickers* and we can thank the Fox for highlighting the mage with a big glowy arrow on the TacNet Now we find out why Risa and JetBlack didn't leave. And why JetBlack still looks so young. They run past us at superhuman speed, towards the still-unsuspecting hostiles. Dr. Rubicante: Ahh!! What's he doing there!? XD GM: These two move BLISTERINGLY fast. faster than you can even see Auged. Dr. Rubicante: THEY'RE VAMPIRES. GM: NO SH*T Ryleigh: aren't vampires supposed to sparkle? Ripper K: f**k, I was f**king right about this graveyard! Dr. Rubicante: TOO MUCH DARK SHADOWS, AHHHH. Shirley Temple: the advantage of the virus, bloodly long lived GM: Risa has her manhunter at the shaman's temple before he can even blink. POW Ryleigh OoC: let's rename the campaign '50 shades of JetBlack' Ripper is calling the number given to us by the original Johnson, just in case. After all, if he's with the other team, shooting him now will solve a lot of problems. GM: though it IS ringing. are you sure you want to have a conversation in combat? Ripper K: wasn't going to - was just going to let it ring GM: "Do you have my disc?" "Oh yeah BANG BANG Sorry, Just kind of in the middle of somthing.. we've taken a better offer!" Ripper's desire to reduce fatalities proves increasingly unachievable, especially after the Doc starts spell-slinging. Dr. Rubicante: My bad. Magic is hard to control! Ripper K: *wince* Well, our intentions were good. See you in hell. Dr. Rubicante: If there's one thing I regret, it's not shacking up with Lofwyr. The carnage continues as JetBlack's team makes short work of the hostiles. Ripper K: *whispers to Vell and Shirley* Well, I'm glad we decided NOT to atack these guys... Dr. Rubicante: No kidding. Ryleigh: I could go for a slice of pineapple right about now! Dr. Rubicante:* closes his eyes.* Ripper K: I hope it doesn't set the vampires on fire or something Dr. Rubicante: Rigger on Rigger action! GM: "Fuck this shit!" The enemy decker withdraws from combat. smart cookie. knows when he's outnumbered. and outmatched. Dr. Rubicante: XD Shoot the running guy! HE HAS EXPENSIVE GEAR!! GM: Err.. I mean.. Just the Street Samurai is left. Shirley Temple: big slab of beef of very little brains? Ripper K: I'm tempted to just go punch him out *bounces up and down* let me, go on, let me Dr. Rubicante: Knock his block off, buddy. Ripper K gets and starts strolling forward, visibly cracking my knuckles and peeling off his shirt Dr. Rubicante: Ohhh! GM: ...You were wearing a SHIRT? Ripper K: it was a chilly night Dr. Rubicante: XD For the express purpose of stripping? Ripper K: *nipples go sproing* yup Dr. Rubicante turns to face the back of the running rigger and points a finger at him. Dr. Rubicante: Now we don't want anyone blabbing about Mr. Jet, do we? Stupefy!

Black Crusade - The Four of Excuteria, Reversed Not the best session I've ever run. In fact, pretty dreadful - I've been too overworked, sleep-deprived, and ill to concentrate, and squandered the opportunity provided by the setting, and forgot to include half the stuff I wanted to. Crash-landed on the sweltering jungle planet of Cauldron, with some 100 klicks to cover, on foot, to the Imperial encampment at Fort Night. Naturally, it'll take two week to get there. Skerrit's reading of the cards conflicts with the bearings taken by the two tech-priests. Archimedes: If we get him to do an augury, what's going to happen – he's going to admit he was wrong? I wouldn't. Daniels: I see this will be a problem, later. Of course, there's going to be the food and water problem too. At least they know enough not to drink straight from the many streams in the jungle, and boil it first in a convenient multipurpose container. GM: The infantryman's helmet – shitting in it one day, eating from it later. The fact that nobody bought a compass, or long distance radio, or survival kit, does cause some acrimony. Archimedes' minion at least HAD a helmet. Daniels: Consider this a lesson in preparedness – only your minion was prepared. She deserves a raise. Archimedes: Hey – I equipped her – therefore I was the prepared one. Then they get attacked by a giant scuttling ambush predator. Not that they're overly worried - even this early in the campaign, merely mortal monsters aren't that much of a threat (something that is becoming a little frustrating to me as a GM). Plus, they can take it apart for useful bones, exoskeletal parts, meat... Digna: We're calmly discussing the benefits of this thing attacking us as we level weapons. The one that had circled around to attack the group from the other direction doesn't do any better. The group can now carry water in the beasts' remains. Skerrit: Two bladders full. Daniels: More – all those redundant organs. Two tech-priests, one with a power axe and the other a servo-arm, makes sort work of most engineering problems enroute, too. A daughter cyclone spun off from the perpetual tempest over Cauldron's only ocean doesn't do more than force them to hole up for a few days, either. At least the remains of a Tallarn scout patrol gives them momentary pause, although the only body is the skeletal remains of one of the troopers, tied to a tree-trunk. Digna suspects Eldar activity - Chaotic troops would have used him in a ritual, and Orks just killed him. Archimedes: Why would Eldar leave somebody tied to tree? GM: Sadism. It's true - the Dark Eldar have excellent theological reasons for being total pricks. It probably explains that missile that shot them down, too. Digna gets to work repairing the buggies, with enthusiasm. Daniels: For her it was more of a religious-slash-sexual experience. Digna: I neither conform nor deny. Digna OoC: So, who has Operate: Surface Vehicle? Eniek: Operate What? Digna: Neither do I. Eniek: This is what got us into trouble in the first place. Shortly thereafter, they get attacked by pirahna bees. Daniels: This planet has such potential. But even Archimedes' bodyguard has subdermal armour, so they all close up their armour, wrap cloth around the bodyguard's head, and co-ordinate movement telepathically. I REALLY should have planned some bigger threats for this session. At least they have a radio now, and can get in contact with Fort Night, and the officer in charge - one Major Dennis Bloodnok. Daniels: This is Lord-Captain Daniels of the Obsidian Resolve. Bloodnok: What a memory you have! Daniels: We were shot down by unknown forces. Bloodnok: Why would you do a silly thing like that for? At the camp, exhausted soldiers sit around playing cards or lie about in canvas baths trying to deal with the terrible heat. And the terrible explosions from the Major's quarters. Bloodnok: Somebody open a window! Bloodnok: Come in, join me in a chota peg... amasec? Wine? Sherry?.... you didn't bring *anything*? Bloodnok has an impressive array of medals for someone so obviously incompetent. Archimedes: I wonder how much he paid for those Daniels: Girl scouts, ribbon tying... Digna: The Major's condition – is it contagious? Adjutant Sinjhiz Thing: Ah, no, he was invalided here after an artillery barrage on his position – A tea urn fell on his head. Understandably, this whole experience has so irritated the heretics that they just want to leave - even if they fail to have all these soldiers moved to Sinophia, they don't much care anymore. Bloodnok: Free feel to drop in any time... bring drinks. Daniels: The gears of the bureaucracy are turning. GM: They grind slow and exceeding small. Daniels: But they're greased well. GM: With the blood of Imperial citizens. And the way Cauldron wrecks technology makes the presence of Imperial forces worse than useless. Daniels: The only reason to place Imperial Troops here would be to benefit the orks if they every arrive. The heretics avoid getting involved when the Dark Eldar slavers attack, despite the appeals of General Eidelberger. This will probably come back to bite them on the arse, later. GM: Amazingly, Bloodnok survives Digna: Typical. GM: They found him under a table in the NAAFI. GM: What are you spend your XP on? Digna OoC: Charm. Now I must continue to interact with organic components, I must optimise my interface routines. Shipping the survivors to Sinophia gives them an opportunity to divert the 'seriously wounded' off for human sacrifice and Warp-tainted experimentation. GM: Most of the diseases are easy enough to treat. Take two of these and call a medic. Some of the Cauldron infections are more serious. If your knees turn green, take two of these and call a priest. Daniels: We need to dedicate the binding chamber to Slaanesh. Digna: Doable – we still have some Barry White records. They have more livestock on board, too - the Tanabean Dragoons have there heavier mounts with them. Digna: They're often referred to as pink fluffy unicorns – because the wool gets stained with the blood of their enemies. At this point Eniek uses Fleshcrafting to 'improve' all the heretics. Slaanesh is so pleased with the extremes he goes to that he/she throws in a bunch of additional 'gifts' - hermaphroditism, in the case of Digna. Its true that tech-priest anatomy is rarely as symmetrical as the original biological template, but her single breast may raise some questions. Eniek: It's more efficient – you can sling your weapon across your chest more easily. Digna, on the grounds that he insisting all the troops get moved off Cauldron prevented further damage to sacred machinery, insists on getting full body conversion cybernetics from her colleagues in the Mechanicum. And after a staggering number of increasingly unliikely dice rolls, gets it. Eniek: You beat with purchasing power everything I did with rituals! GM: Will you get a pair of etheric beam locators? Digna: Nah - I'll get one, so they'll balance out. And while Digna adjusts to her new wholly artificial and superhuman body, and Eniek cleans up the remains of all those troopers used as spare parts in the fleshcrafting ritual, he gets a visitor - a daemonic presence possessing one of the husks. It can't pass the wards around the ritual site, but it seems rather determined to acquire that mirror shard they acquired earlier. After a few threats and promises from the daemon, Eniek recalls some of the rumours about Erasmus Haarlock, and tests his theory. Eniek: The Traveller Returns The Daemon of the Mirror: *froths into incandescent rage, the possessed blackly flaming corpse melting into a puddle of corruption* Eniek: Hmm. Interesting. Well, at least this is one possibly reason to hunt down those other fragments of mirror...

And the other Shadowrun 2070 game, where an alternate version of Ripper and an entirely different team of runners are still slogging through the mysterious music disc adventure, and trying to find out just how trouble they're in, and is there any other way we can make a profit on this job? Ryleigh: 'For Enlightenment, Seek out Absent Friends...' Absent Friends... like dead people... something buried in a cemetary instead of a body? Dr. Rubicante: Maybe we have to trap a ghost. Shirley Temple: Ghosts are just free anscestor spirits Ryleigh: I'm no ghosthunter. Dr. Rubicante: Not my expertise anyway. Ripper K: McCartney is actually dead - it's obvious Dr. Rubicante: The only musical knowledge I have are of smash hits from the early 2000s and Harry Potter movie OSTs. At least searching the web helps, even if Ares Macrotech bought out Google years ago. Dr. Rubicante: I'm going to walk around while Aresearching "Jet Black and the Shadows". I'm somewhat thrilled that in 50 years, 'googling' is still as effective as ever. It occurs to Ripper that this whole mystery may be a scheme whereby the vanished JetBlack can be tracked down by his former bandmates. The misogynistic elf in the party suggests we question the woman who won the auction, and that Ripper impersonated at the disastrous hand-off. Dr. Rubicante: If all else fails, rut what we need out of her. Women love being overpowered by men with big dicks. Excepting lesbians, of course. Ryleigh: That's what I call a stereotype. Dr. Rubicante: Have you ever been with a woman? Ryleigh: No. Dr. Rubicante: That is exactly how my wife was. Ripper K: That's why she divorced you then? Dr. Rubicante: She's dead. Ripper K: huh. You must have been cuckolded by somebody REALLY hung then. Who was that woman, anyway? One of JetBlack's former coworkers? GM: Corp decker. Ties to music collectors and industry. Looks like she was just the highest bidder. You'll be nice enough to return the hundreds of thousands of nuyen she paid for the disc since you had access to Loomis' commlink, and thus the other end of that transaction, won't you? Ripper K: hundreds of THOUSANDS???? Ryleigh: Jacking Nuyen only seems advisable if it can't be traced back to our wallets. Ripper K: We could freaking retire Dr. Rubicante: Not me... a drop in the bucket. Ripper K: Ok, does anybody alive actually know we were there? Dr. Rubicante: Dooooes anyone have a proxy wallet we can use? GM: Be nice, I'd like to not have the runners find a way to retire before the end of the first adventure Ripper K: Um... she did get a glimpse of my face... Ryleigh: You know.. I'd think she'd be suspicous if she wakes up to find a misfit group working together and guesses at our occupation. Ripper K: and with that much at stake she could probably hire her own team to hunt me down... Dr. Rubicante: I could use some good karma. Ripper K: maybe there's a finder's fee for keeping her alive? Ryleigh: if Ripper wasn't our Face... I'd suggest him playing dead while someone interrogates her. Shirley Temple: Ransoming corp citizens in most corporate zones is an immediate death sentence Dr. Rubicante: There had better be. Not only did you 'save' her, we're returning her cash... We can always donate it all to charity. Ripper K: snerk Ryleigh: All we do need is money laundry. Using a 'charity' isn't a bad idea... Dr. Rubicante: Donating the money gives us karma, right? 8D Shirley Temple: "...we see you used the corporate black ops fund to donate to a.........aging and retired big dicked porno stars fund......care to explain?" Dr. Rubicante: "We're trying to cure gingers." Ryleigh: Let's buy a carwash.... GM: Returning it would get you more, since, y'know, not ruining a woman's life Dr. Rubicante: Well, let's not ruin the poor woman's life, I guess. Shirley Temple: hmm, default on our current johnson for a finders fee from the elf lady. hard choices Ryleigh: Since she's seen Ripper's face and we don't want her after him... maybe we should convince her he's dead and someone pretends he found her unconscious Shirley Temple: the doorman saw the orca. Dr. Rubicante: The doorman's still alive, right? I forget. People exploded. GM: yes, the doorman saw EVERYONE. Dr. Rubicante: Did he like my outfit? GM: *sigh* Ripper K: I suppose I could go wait for her to wake up, and catch her as she tries to flee town ahead of the corp assassins Perhaps we should go question JetBlack's surviving bandmates, including one Marli? But the graveyard first - it's the appropriate time of night, and an opportunity to needle Rubicante. Ripper K: Seems like a good idea - Marli must be nearly your age by now, Vell - eldsters need their sleep. And when we go by the graveyard we can visit all your friends. Ripper K: This is a very badly laid out cemetery Dr. Rubicante: Pretty though. Ripper K: Unless the earthquakes shuffled all the headstones around? Dr. Rubicante: Pretty spooky. Ripper K: Good thing we don't live in San Francisco, or we'd have to drive out to Colma Ryleigh: JB supposedly was someone famous... so the memorial stone should be fancy and easily visible. Dr. Rubicante: Those aren't headstones. Those are each a single, flesh-eating animal. Ripper K examines the nearest headstone. Ripper K: 'Not Dead, Merely Sleeping' You're not fooling anybody, lady Ryleigh: "Here lies Johnny Yeast. Pardon me for not rising." Hogfather: "Here lies Lester Moore. Four slugs from a 44, no Les, no more." Ripper: Wow, it needed a six-foot plot? I suddenly feel inadequate Dr. Rubicante: "Here lies Verne Anchors, who died as he was born; crying and covered in his mother's blood." GM: It's just a cemetary, dude. Ripper K: *starts ticking off his fingers * vampires, ghosts, ghouls - Dr. Rubicante: WHAR Ripper K: behind you! Shirley Temple: Shush cetacean beefcake, you'll bring us bad luck GM: BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINS naw, i'm kidding. Shirley Temple: No brains here, just a bunch of frat members partying in a graveyard on a drunken dare Hogfather: So, they really keep dead bodies here? Isn't that... just an invitation for grave robbers? The JetBlack Memorial reads, “The stars shine brightest onthe blackest of nights.” It is also covered with flowers, mementos, and notes from admirers, even twenty-two years later. Considerable time is wasted searching the memorial for clues. Shirley Temple: You, Spirit, check underneath and report back the content Hogfather: Much better than digging it up GM: Watcher Spirit comes back seconds later. "Lots of Dirt, Miss!" *poof* Ripper K: hmm Dr. Rubicante: "Klaatu... verata... nikto." Ripper K: Anybody know what the Dwarvish for Friend is? Eventually the GM admits the entire graveyard scene was a waste of time, and distraction. Hogfather: OF COURSE! The graveyard was a giant aquarium, it all makes sense now.

D&D continues, with a trip back to town to find out more about the political angles of the situation, before we head off to meet a druid for info on the land surrounding King Gurnt's stronghold. These sessions tend to be shorter than the others, mostly because they come at the end of particularly exhausting six-day weeks, including overtime. I must be insane. Urlon: We really need a Wand of Cure Light Wounds Kavorog: 'Cleric in a Can' We do stop by that dragon's lair for a chat - befriending it now might pay off later. GM: You're an elf – you can live long enough to ride the dragon into battle one day. And you're a gnome, you might live long enough... to grow up. Directions to certain dubious businesses in town. Lamech: Just across the road from the Teamster's Union. And that new bridge. Urlon: We think they've been kidnapped by the goblin king. Dwarf: What, David Bowie? Lamech: I hear the other dragonborn got exiled for something he did to a kobold. Ryck: Why would he get kicked out of town for that? Lamech: It's more what he DID with the kobold. Urlon: We should have made Kavorog tell us why he got kicked out of town. Lamech: Eh - If we sit around telling everybody everything we've done we'll be here all week. GM: You have a name for your adventuring company yet? Lamech: 'The Bastards of Carnage' A warning sign at the deserted village where the druid hangs out – beware of plant monsters, and zombies. All: ….... Lamech: Well, at least somebody hung around long enough to actually put up the sign. We are indeed attacked by plant monsters - how to respond? GM: You could put it in a pot and teach it to dance GM: That would be the unluckiest monster in the game. 'We're being attacked by a giant marijuana golem' 'Cool man' Lamech uses Shatter on the twig creature hordes. Lamech: Matchsticks GM: Say it with flowers – give her a triffid. But since the explosion will have roused anything in the village, we flee to the nearest building to take advantage of the narrow access. And discover the zombies are in the buildings. Lamech: I thought the undead were supposed to be outside the building trying to get in! After the ensuing carnage and bastardry, the druid turns up in the doorway - unwise given we're still buzzing with adrenaline. Lamech: He's lucky he didn't get shot in the face, frankly.

We never did find out what that was all about - we retired the characters before it all came home to roost. Ah well.

Black Crusade : The Ace of Discordia In which the PCs, in Lord-Captain Daniels' ship the Obsidian Resolve, are heading towards the Fringe War. The war in question is complicated by the three-dimensional nature of interplanetary warfare, the use of warp routes to bypass the enemy, and fact that it's a three-way meatgrinder between human separatists, Orks, and an Imperium that won't commit sufficient forces to the front because it's a useful excuse to divert massive amounts of troops to the secret Jericho Reach front on the far side of the Galaxy. Naturally, Dark Eldar raiders and Chaos cultists can't help dipping their wick in either. In the case of the PCs, they want to start bringing Imperial regiments back to Sinophia, on furlough, AND start smuggling materiel to the separatists. But I do get them to come up with a few regiments from the Only War 40K RPG system first. GM: The reason I want you to make a regiment or two is because I want you to be emotionally invested in what happens next. Eniek's Player: This regiment you want us to make – is it going to be on our side? GM: I'm not saying. *evil grin* Eniek's Player: F**k! Now it can't be too OP. Digna's Player: Yes, I remember my reaction when you said the Millennial Warden Space Marines were operating in the area – because I remember how good I'd made them GM: You can be quite certain you'll be running into Millennial Wardens in this campaign too. Digna's Player: F*******k. They will be encountering the 1st Temisian Mechanised Infantry, a regiment Weldun created for the Deathwatch RPG game. Digna's Player: We do not want to run up against these guys. “What's that coming over the hill? It looks like a land raider....... f**k, run!” The others look like they'll be amusing as allies or antagonists too - they include the Tallarn 288th Rapid Recon – a buggy mounted scout unit; the 8th Longshot Artillery – very long-range precision artillery unit with forward observers with tracked bomb drones; a Guerrilla warfare regiment who like nothing better than sneaking in close for assassinations; a troop of Feral World skirmishers; and specialist Electrovox troopers who tap enemy comms, cut of lines of command, and pick off the units they just isolated. They already had the regiment they'd made for the Only War game they're already playing in - a unit of suspiciously well-equipped Dragoons riding giant alien cats that are faster than Dark Eldar jetbikes. Their habit of keeping the cats in barracks does not endear them to the other regiments. Most amusing of all, a unit of Ogryn Drop Troops. Not very many of them, but mostly because of their tendency to wander off after a battle. Digna: The biggest problem is trying to round them all up again afterwards XD GM: That and the claustrophobia. Trying to get them onto the planes in the first place - Ogryns don't like confined spaces. 'It's dark in dere!' Eniek: They don't much like falling through the sky much either XD The nearest staging planet for the war is Cauldron, in an unusual system with two pair of Double Worlds - large rocky worlds with huge moons, and all four with biospheres. All of them are almost uninhabitably hot, however, thanks to their proximity to their red giant sun, and only one is verdant - Cauldron itself. Cauldron has additional problems - repeated attempts to settle the world over the millennia have been foiled by the effect the planet has on higher technology. Digna: Wait, the planet is anathema to technology and they're using it as a staging post for the Fringe War? What complete IDIOT... wait..... what BRILLIANT cultist set that up? What reason will Digna give her superiors for leaving Sinophia and heading the front? GM: Tell them you heard reports the Sinophian tech-priests were planning to fit the governor with volitor circuits? Eniek: Will we shortly be acquired a number of people that won't be missed. But fret not - I won't be taking them from the crew Digna: How very considerate. And we will be shipping wounded soldiers around soon enough. GM: 'I'm sorry Major, this patient just died - I'll have him taken down to the morgue.' 'What's that screaming?' 'Air released from the corpse - happens all the time' Daniels: 'And that one?' 'Vox-ghost' Maintaining morale on the Obsidian Resolve. GM: And the Melodium plays 'Everything Is Awesome' on perpetual loop? The Sinophia nobility are invited to contribute to the war effort, and more to the point, open trade with the war economy. Their response is to deliver thousands of Sinophian Highland sheep to the spaceport. This raises all sorts of problems for the cultists, who are really not planning on shipping livestock. GM: Live Sheep Exports. GM: No, LIVE Sheep, not LOVE sheep. Digna: I dunno, you hear things about soldiers... Eniek: I can see it now. 'Sir, the Gellar Field has weakened!''Where?' 'In the vicinity of the main cargo hold' ' .... great.' GM: And the deranged daemon-possessed sheep go berserk, attacking the crew and biting through chain-halberds... Eniek: The Imperium is surprising liberal about some things. GM: Unless you're screwing xenos. So as long as they're not ALIEN sheep... Rather than try and keep the sheep alive, they instead just opt to open the airlocks. GM: Freeze-dried mutton. Skerrit reads the cards and gets a puzzling glimpse of the future - apparently the Imperial forces on Cauldron are near to crumbling, the PCs most important weapon will be money, their plot will be complicated by aliens, and, apparently, 'The Lord Of Blood Will Do Your Bidding'. And of course the Imperial authorities, such as the Navy ships patrolling the Cauldron system, will react badly to rogue psykers like Skerrit. He hides, while the others give the naval officers a tour of the ship. Skerrit: I'm in a different part of the ship. Daniels: And this is the lavatory... which is currently occupied. Sheep slaughtering traditions. Daniels: We had to point the ship towards Mecca as we did it. Digna: Mars. Eniek: Mecca, Mars, Terra... GM: It's all the same direction from this far out It's not safe to keep the Obsidian Resolve in a low orbit - the giant moon makes orbits unstable. Of course, given Digna is from the Lathes, three forge worlds orbiting each other, she's not much concerned. Digna: Ah, a normal system, gravitationally. What isn't normal is being shot down as their lander is overflying a large expanse of supposedly unoccupied jungle. At least the missile didn't actually explode, but it still cripples their vehicle. The lander goes down hard, in what turns out to be deep swamp, but only the pilot and Skerrit are casualties. GM: You shouldn't be able to see the back of your own knee. Skerrit: I'm glad I'm in too much shock to feel this. Daniels: There's going to be nothing left of him after all the patching up you have to do. Digna: Skeleton next. Eniek: He's going to be my first test subject for fleshgrafting. Daniels: Willing, too. Eniek: On the other hand, if you're NOT willing I get a bonus to the rolls. Skerrit: How are you going to replace my skeleton? Digna: We freeze each section, liquify the bones, and replace them with metal. Skerrit: 😧 Digna OoC: If I can get a grav-plate from the Lathe Worlds and Stasis Field with a timer from Belacane, i can make a doomsday weapon. Up, down, up, down, up, down. GM: An what will you call it - Mjölnir? Digna OoC: Yup. Digna: Our pilot is becoming one with the local ecosystem. Digna: This is what happens when we don't sacrifice to the Lord of Fate before a mission. Digna tests the depths of the swamp while Eniek prepares a raft - Cauldron's gravity is too high for either of them to just hover the others to shore. GM: Something pulls hard on your mechadendrite. Digna: Apparently I can go fishing with this. A few shots scare off the giant armour-plated salamanders, and the wreck sinks into the morass with appropriate blooping noises. Digna: Well, you've lost a lander, Daniels. Daniels: And a pilot. Digna: You've lost a lander. Pilots are easier to come by than Aquila Landers. They now face a march of at least one hundred miles to the Imperial base on Cauldron, with no idea of what is lurking between them and safety. This should be fun... for me at least.

Black Crusade : The Thirteen of Thrones The heretics continue their scheme on the bankrupt planet of Sinophia - the scheme being "convince the Governor's son to enact a daemonic ritual against his father, get the now insane Governor to close the starport out of fear of retribution from the sector capitol, and then have the Sinophian nobility impeach the Governor and have him replaced by his son". On most planets, this plan would be insane, but Sinophia is so utterly hopeless that the Imperium has pretty much given up on the place, and minor political situations like this change of power probably won't even draw comment for decades. Of course, if anybody figures out heretics were involved then they certainly WILL draw comment, that comment being in the form of assassins, inquisitors, and battleships. Discussing ways to stop Skerrit from getting the group in trouble again. Digna: We must keep him under supervision at all times. GM: Or possibly one of those child harnesses, with a leash. The decide to make their final play against the heir during one of the interminable services at the Basilica, after finagling an invitation to the Governor's family box overlooking the huddled masses praying the Emperor below. GM: So... you're going to seduce Evandus Junior to Chaos... during a church service. Slaanesh WILL be pleased. Eniek OoC: 'I need a wheelbarrow.' 'Why?' 'For my balls' GM: The constant rain drips through the ceiling of the cathedral, onto the supplicants beneath. That's because somebody stole the lead off the roof. Lord-Captain Daniels is puzzled by a conversation between tech-priests. Daniels: 'I'm going to taint your sample pool'? Digna: I love it when you talk dirty. Digna also prods the Mechanicum into political activity. Getting them to agree that fitting the governor with mind-control implants is a good idea is not necessarily heresy - it's merely a reflection of the poor opinion the Priests of Mars have of meatbags. Tech-priest: +++ The Government. Of This World. Is Inefficient. It Is. Most Vexatious. +++ Digna: +++ Perhaps if the Governor were fitted with with Volitor Circuits? +++ Tech-priest: +++ Yes. +++ That would remove. Many. Of the. Inefficiencies ++++ But with the heir convinced, and getting him to come out to Digna's base alone (despite the objections of his bodyguards) the ritual is enacted. Governor Evandus is doomed to a spiral of insanity, with everything around him causing fear. It might taken a while, but Archimedes feeding him nightmares of Calixian Commissars coming from the sector capitol to investigate his failures are unlikely to help his mental equilibrium. Time to start turning up the heat, by planting rumours among the populace. Digna: It's a pity none of us are barbers – they gossip to ANYBODY Eventually they hear that the Governor has gone to his retreat in the highlands, until the balance of his humours can be restored. Digna: 'in my considered medical opinion – he be crazy, yo.' The shielding of the governor from his increasing paranoia means they'll have to go up to the highlands themselves to keep up the telepathic pressure. Since the retreat is surrounded by a huge hunting reserve, they can always lean on the heir to get them an invitation. Digna acknowledges that this plan has merit, and promptly assumes it for her own. GM: 'That was an excellent idea of mine you just had' Of course, it being midwinter, there isn't much to hunt (and if Skerrit is right, somebody is psychically hunting THEM). GM: Put fox ears and a tail on Skerrit and hunt him. Digna: Nah - he'd just outrun them. Archimedes: How long should we keep this up for? GM: *gestures at Skerrit* Just ask the pasteboard princess to read the cards for you. He is the party's precog, after all. The hunting lodge is as comfortable as might be hoped, but not as luxurious as the mansion proper. GM: And you only have five servants to assist you. Daniels: Yeah – roughing it. But even after the Governor shuts the starport, the nobility won't play ball. They're too proud to admit that anything is wrong, even though the closure affects them far more than it affects the underclasses. Noble: Sinophia has weathered worse than this. Digna: It's good that you're showing solidarity with the common man. Noble: *splutters with outrage, and goes off to push a motion of censure against the governor in the Clockwork Court.* Digna OoC: The Sir Humphrey Appleby School of Ministerial Management > The plan a success, what next? Perhaps get involved in the logistical side of the Fringe War, against the Severian Dominate separatists? Bringing back regiments of troops from the front, to furlough on Sinophia, is a good way to make yourself important, as well as an excuse to bring lots and lots of heavily armed men to Sinophia. And even the front can't be that dangerous to experienced characters, surely? Daniels: I can see their general from here – his pauldrons are three meters high The new governor releases the material required to get Daniels' ship repaired and under way again. He didn't take much persuasion. Digna: Not only under our thumb but very eager to see the back of us.