[Game Thread] Chapter One: New York

[GeneT]

---

Blood and Guts Aleksandr doesn't charge. Not really. It may seem like he does to the others. That he rushes in and continues roughly on, his momentum strong and brisk. But he doesn't shout or yell. His movement isn't filled with anger or dismay or anything really. If the others could see his face, it would perhaps startle them. Aleksandr's face is flat. His eyes, and cheeks, and pale lips emotionless. He remembers dragging the upper half of Johnny's torso into the ditch. And then, scrabbling out to retrieve Johnny's legs and pelvis as if he could put him back together. He remembers huddling there clutching the upper half of Johnny in one arm and the lower half in the other arm as the bombardment threw mountains of dirt into the pale grey sky. He curled up there with Johnny's bloody halves until some other fightin boys found him and coaxed him out. Fed him poor whiskey and wrapped a scratchy dark blue wool blanket around him. Let him recover a bit before puttin his rifle back in his hand and moving out. Aleksandr Datsyuk is not really there in the room with the dead man and his assailants. At least not fully. He is in some other terrible place. Killing. Bleeding. Breathing. Dying. He attacks the white man at the desk that grabs the bloody sword and he beats him with the short length of iron pipe he has in one hand. He doesn't make a sound while he does it. Not a peep. You're safer that way. Killing quiet. Especially if you're moving from one room to the next clearin enemies with a fixed bayonet or trench knife 'cause you've left all your ammo in the bodies five rooms back.

Mechanics Oops. Forgot to change the tagline. Kickin is the Insanity roll. Dice Kickin a Door: 3D6smh6 3 ✘, 3 ✘, 1 ✘ (0/3) Total = 7 Attack, with a Block and Parry after (if that is allowed) Dice Pipe Strike: 6D6smh6 4 ✘, 6 ✔, 6 ✔, 3 ✘, 4 ✘, 2 ✘ (2/6) Total = 25 Dice Block and Parry: 7D6smh6 3 ✘, 2 ✘, 1 ✘, 3 ✘, 1 ✘, 6 ✔, 4 ✘ (1/7) Total = 20

[Palliven]

Dalton Valentine, Explorer "Get down the hall where its safe," he says to the women near him. His voice is calm and used to giving directions in emergencies. There was no time for debate when facing a mudslide, no 'excuse me I didn't hear that' when your riverboat was heading into rapids. He'd become accustomed to being listened to and taking action. Today was no different. Preperation may be the key to survival but improvisation was the secret to success. Stepping into the room Dalton makes for the desk and the green glass ashtray. Dense and heavy it would make a good weapon but that's not his objective. It's the thick layer of ash that interests him, like a sea of grey with crumpled ends of cigarettes upended like the sterns of sinking ships. It is a race between Dalton grabbing the ashtray and the man at the desk grabbing his machete. With the ashtray in hand Dalton swings it in a wide arc, sending a cloud of stale ash right at the man's face in attempt to not only blind him but send him into a fit of coughing.

Edit Note Edited to change approach based on clarification of scene.

 

Handle Throw. Coordination and Ranged Weapon.

Dice Roll:

6d6smh6

6 ✔, 4 ✘, 1 ✘, 5 ✘, 3 ✘, 5 ✘

(1/6)

Total = 24

Roll to see if recognizes the red headband or what it may signify from his travels. Academic and Myteries of Orient.

Dice Roll:

5d6smh6

4 ✘, 3 ✘, 4 ✘, 2 ✘, 5 ✘

(0/5)

Total = 18

Sanity

Dice Roll:

3d6smh6

1 ✘, 5 ✘, 4 ✘

(0/3)

Total = 10

[Strange2099]

Bethany Rahner, Artist (Thursday, 15 January, 1925) ~~ Theme Music (Strange Phenomena) ~~ Beth asks the man at the desk to repeat the room number. "410?" she says in confirmation. The number echoes in her mind as she leads the group towards the elevator to reach Jackson’s room. 410 … she can’t let go of the number, nor ignore an ominous feeling…. Walking out of the elevator and proceeding down the hallway, she is overcome with a sense of déjà vu. Why does she feel like she’s been here, before, even though this is the first time to visit him at this hotel? Shuddering as they approach the door numbered 410, she hesitates a moment before finally knocking. No answer. Frustrated, she is about to knock again, when Aleksandr calls her name and gently moves her aside. She looks up at him, the worry on her face plainly visible. Dalton then adds to an assurance, of sorts, and Beth acquiesces. She moves aside to let the men try their approach. After Aleksandr kicks in the door and Dennis moves in, Beth peaks inside. "Dennis?" she calls after him. "What are those men -- Oh! GOD!! DOCTOR!!" Beth sees Jackson on the ground, bleeding (dead!) and screams for Garrett to help (Jackson’s dead!!). She looks frantically to find Garrett (his stomach was --!), and nearly collapses, just barely holding herself up against the wall. She vaguely registers Dalton yelling something about the hall…where it’s safe…but she looks on with wild eyes, unable to move, unable to look away. Only able to scream.   Move = No… Action = Screaming for help? (let me know if dice work for this)

[Lemming23]

Hotel Chelsea, Room 410 ~*~ Theme Tune ~*~ Three men enter the room as the door crashes against the wall, a tumultuous mob catching the assassins literally red-handed (painted by Elias' blood) and almost by surprise. Dennis, a blur as he rushes over to the bed, stabs at the kneeling man with the wicked looking knife he's pulled from his pocket; he jabs the man in the chest as he struggles to his feet, blood flowing from the wound the drifter has inflicted. As he stands, he tries to swipe at Dennis with his own weapon, but whether it's the shock of the injury, the fact that he's staggering to his feet, or Dennis' own instincts of self-preservation kicking in, the blade passes by Dennis without harming him. At the same second, Aleksandr strikes at the man at the desk with his metal pipe, a nasty gash appearing on the man's head which makes him cry out in alarm and pain. He too attempts to return the assault with the large machete-like weapon, but the blood flowing into his eyes means that his attack too is ineffective and misses by a mile. Shaking his head to clear his eyes of the blood flowing from the wound, and a little unsure of his fotting because of the nasty head wound, the man grimaces with the pain of the injury and readies his wepaon for another go at Aleksandr, while spitting out "Get that window open, we need to get outta here!" to the man at the window. The man's words disappear in a cloud of ash though, leaving the man coughing and spluttering as Dalton throws the remnants of many cigarettes in the assassin's face, blinding him further and leaving him wide open for a follow-up attack. The man at the window,hearing the white man's words before they are resoundingly cut off by his coughing fit, turns to the window and begins to pull the heavy sash window up, allowing a bitingly cold wind to enter the room and revealing the fire escape. He prepares to climb through the window while shouting something in a foreign language to his compatriots in the hotel room.

OOC The man at the desk is blinded for the next turn, so will be an easier target (almost impossible to hit - if someone attacks him and fails to roll any 6s, they can make a free re-roll of their attack dice on this next turn. With both the kneeling man and the man at the desk now occupied, a narrow path allows someone to head for the man at the window as he tries to climb out (which will also make him more vulnerable - he'll still be able to try to evade any blows, but he won't be able to mount an attack himself on this next turn as he climbs out. The way is also open to get to Elias if anyone thinks they can do something to save him. Which on closer inspection will prove to be a fool's errand; the man is, unfortunately, dead. For those attacking, let me know what your intentions are - are you trying to kill, or knock out, or capture?

[Talkin]

Dr. Garrett Higgins Garrett follows as the group trudges over the Jackson's hotel. He would have been perfectly willing to wait a few more minutes inside the warm tea shop, but apparently that was not an option. Inside the Chelsea Hotel, Garrett cocks an eyebrow at the dingy gigs. I would have thought Jackson would stay somewhere a little nicer. And then, out of nowehere, Garrett hears the front desk man shout Jackson's room number: "410!" Room 410? A low end hotel... room 410. Garrett's eyes glaze over, back all those years ago to the wierd dreams he had in Peru. Room 410... where I would find my destiny... Garrett's body robotically follows the group into the elevator, but his mind is elsewhere. As they exit the lift and walk along the hallway towards Jackson's room, Garrett subconsciously takes in the dim lighting, the faded wallpaper, the patchy carpet. His face goes pale, and then paler. He'd never been here before, yet he knew this hallway. He's seen it. Garrett is startled--half in and half out of his reverie--as Aleksandr kicks in the door with a crash. "Wait, why did you...?" But Garrett sees his answer soon enough. His eyes pass over the armed men and land on Jackson's supine form, bloody and disembowled. "Jackson... no...." The words comes out of his mouth in a whisper. Even at this distance, it doesn't take a doctor to see that his friend dead. From far away, Garrett hears Bethany scream. Time speeds back up as Aleksandr, Dalton, and Dennis rush into the room to attack Jackson's assailants. Garrett is shocked by the scrum. I'm not really a fighter, I really shouldn't go in there... Yet, as he sees Dalton and Aleksandr dodge the assailant's knives, Garrett remembers that he brought those two good people into this mess. He can't just abandom them. Like a fool, Garrett looks around, as if expecting there to be a weapon somwhere. Of course, there isn't... until his eyes land on one of Bethany's thermoses of hot coffee. Alas, Garrett's heart overrides his brain, and he grabs the metal bottle, unscrews the cap, and steps into the room. With a quick stride, Garrett splashes the scalding liquid into the face of the machete-wielding man squaring off with Aleksandr. Oh god, am I really bringing coffee to a knife fight!? OOC Dice Splash hot coffee into face of man with machete (Ranged): 4d6smh6 3 ✘, 6 ✔, 1 ✘, 2 ✘ (1/4) Total = 12 I think Garrett is more trying to incapacitate than kill. If they can capture one of these people, I suspect there will be some questions.

[Palliven]

[QUOTE=Palliven;9421091]

Dalton Valentine, Explorer Not one to miss an opportunity, Dalton tightened his grip on the heavy ashtray, tight enough to make his knuckles shift from ruddy to white. It was safer to make sure a man was truly out of the fight, a lesson he had learned the hard way on the streets of Cairo. Reversing his swing, he put all his strength into what would hopefully be a blow to the man that would knock him out.

OOC-Dice Rolls Dice 1st Attempt: 3d6smh6 5 ✘, 3 ✘, 5 ✘ (0/3) Total = 13 Dice 2nd Attempt if Needed: 3d6smh6 2 ✘, 1 ✘, 6 ✔ (1/3) Total = 9

[FatherDondo]

Dennis Winslow, Drifter Something caught the corner of his eye; one of the bastards was going for the window. "No you don't! No you don't!" He ran for the escapee. If any of these monsters got away, they'd tell their friends. And their bosses. They'd get away and they'd never know what was coming until it did. "You lost your right to run when the knives came out!" He grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back to give his own knife a place to be planted in his shoulder.

[OneDarkness]

Rosabelle, Hotel room of death Isadora shook her head in mock annoyance that they had to go track down Jackson, but what he had suggested was intriguing enough that she was willing to put his tardiness aside in hopes of something to break the boredom of New York in the winter. Following the others out of the tea room and eventually up the 4th floor of the Chelsea she half expected to fine the man so engrossed in his work he simply forgot or hopefully not sick like last time he had been late. Outside his room door there was a moment though, where she got a feeling things were not right, and clearly others picked up on it as well for the next moment the door was being being kicked down and the macabre scene revealed itself. She held back as Aleksandr, Dalton and Dennis moved quickly into the room for they moved with a confident purpose and once the machete dripping blood and the rest of the scene unfolded her eyes widened and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her studies she had read more than her fair share of descriptions of the dead and the gruesome ceremonies that could take place to honor pagan gods, but still nothing prepared her for what she witnessed. It was a few moments before she could even focus on what was happening, and even then the pounding of her heart continued.

ooc Isadora remains frozen this turn

[GeneT]

---

Gas, blisters, and killing a man He has both hands on the metal pipe and stands with his legs wide. He sees only the red of the blood, stark and bright against everything else in white and grey and black. Shadows without color. This place is not real. What is real is mustard gas rolling out from impacts, squinting through the fogged glass of his mask, and Colin Heath dying on the grey black ground, rolling and clutching, skin blistering, eyes wide and white and burning. Gasping. That is all Aleksandr can hear. His own frantic gasping breaths. Heart hammering in his chest hoping his mask has sealed right. Then his hands clutching the pipe as he brought it down again and again and again against Colin Heath's head until his skull was a mis-shapen mess and bright red splattered his hands even though he could not see it through the tears and fogged glass lenses. Colin Heath had been a friend. Aleksandr remembers his laugh. And killing him before the mustard gas made him suffer any more. He brings the pipe down again and again and again on the man in front of him. Aleksandr is not here. He is with Colin as if he never left that time. Never left the War. Reality not being a thing he can hold onto. Elias Jackson's intestines are not the first he has ever seen. Nor are bodies torn in two or three or more parts than can be rightly put back together to bury in the same hole. Nor a friend's cracked skull leaking, dead blistering eyes thanking you when you could see nothing but red. The sight of Elias Jackson strips reality away from Aleksandr and he is at War again, shambling amidst the death and destruction of a grey world. All about him is the muffled sounds of the room made indistinct by the tightness of the gas mask he feels is strapped to his head. Cries like rifle shots. Shouts like bombardment blasts. The feel of the pipe against the man's skull friendly. Aleksandr won't stop hitting him even if he falls motionless to the ground. Unless someone gives him an order and a new target. Or tries to touch him.

Mechanics Condition : Psychosis Level 1 Dice Pipe Strike: 6D6smh6 3 ✘, 3 ✘, 4 ✘, 5 ✘, 5 ✘, 1 ✘ (0/6) Total = 21 Dice Block and Parry: 7D6smh6 2 ✘, 2 ✘, 5 ✘, 5 ✘, 6 ✔, 2 ✘, 2 ✘ (1/7) Total = 24

[Strange2099]

Bethany Rahner, Artist (Thursday, 15 January, 1925) ~~ Theme Music (Breathing) ~~ Breathe in… After the prolonged exhale, which accompanied her screaming, Beth has to remind herself to do the opposite. Out, in, out, in, she focuses on controlling her breath and, despite the chaos that plays out before her eyes, Beth becomes quiet, peaceful…almost, catatonic. Her sudden experimentation with meditative states does not last long, however, as she is soon jarred back to reality when Garrett grabs a thermos from out of the basket that she’s carrying. That wasn’t meant for you, she thinks as she watches Garrett opening the thermos. The other men in the room are all a blur, to her, buzzing around the room like hyper-fast flies; but Garrett’s actions seem to play out in slow motion, as if he’s moving through a thick molasses. "That was for Jackson," she says as she looks down at the other thermos in her basket. "That’s the black coffee," she says while brushing away a non-existent fly. "What you want is in this one," she says and lifts the other thermos, which contains hot tea. She looks up just in time to see Garrett splashing the hot liquid against another man’s face. She hears that man scream as he brings his hand up to wipe at his eyes. Where did he come from? she thinks. The odd, red scarf tied around the man’s head with the loose end dangling down in front of his face causes her to laugh, which she stifles into a short chuckle. She then looks down and sees Jackson… "Oh!" Poor Jackson! What have they done to you? she thinks. What have they — Beth suddenly looks up at the man that’s standing over Jackson. She sees that he’s clutching at his chest, and like the screaming man being pummeled by Aleksandr and Dalton, this one also wears a ridiculous red tie around his head. This time, however, she is not amused. Instead, she glares at him with eyes that are practically welling over with disbelief, grief, and hate. "You," she says in a cool, dry voice. Beth stands in the doorway and flings the thermos at the man. "What. Have. You. DONE!?"   Move = Just to the doorway. Action = Throw thermos at the man formally kneeling over Jackson,Mobutu now standing and clutching a knife wound from Dennis. Dice Ranged Weapons: 3d6smh6 3 ✘, 4 ✘, 2 ✘ (0/3) Total = 9

[Lemming23]

Room 410 ~*~ Theme Music ~*~ Dr Garrett, anger rising within him, grabs the thermos and, deftly unscrewing it, throws the contents into the blinded man's eyes, scalding him a little and further decreasing his chances of being able to attack or defend himself properly. Which is a real shame, since Aleksandr is still in front of him, with that wicked metal pipe raised in his hands, and Dalton, the heavy leaded glass ashtray in his hands, swings with all his might at the spluttering assassin. Dalton connects first, the ashtray thudding solidly on the man's head, and spraying blood and a couple of teeth over the papers on the desk and floor. The man starts to buckle, his knees starting to give way, but as Aleksandr's pipe smashes into his face, his legs give way entirely. As Aleksandr continues to hammer into the man's prone body, it seems obvious that he is no longer a threat - nor will he be a threat to anyone else ever again. From his place at the doorway, Dr Higgins can tell that the man's heart is no longer beating, and blood is pouring out of his wounds rather than spurting. Meanwhile, Dennis leaves the man kneeling by Elias' body and rushes over the window, where the third man is struggling to open the heavy sash window. Stabbing quickly with his knife, he catches the man in the shoulder (which is not going to help him lift that heavy window), and the man tries to scrabble out of Dennis' grasp. As Dennis is distracted, the kneeling man gets to feet and follows Dennis' path, trying to swipe at the man with his own knife, but a combination of a near miss from a second thermos, flung by Bethany, and own his hands, slick with blood - both that of Elias and himself - don't have a proper purchase on the blade, and he fumbles it a little rather than stabbing Dennis in return. Dennis will be in somewhat dire straits next turn though, unless he gets help quickly. From her relatively safe vantage point in the corridor, Dr Serrano can see a door opening a little way down the corridor, the room's resident poking his head out to see what's occurring and making so much noise.

OOC Dennis will have to make 2 successes on his Block and Parry next turn, as he has both the remaining assassins on him now. Aleksandr will spend the next turn bludgeoning the dead man further into paste unless someone is brave enough to try to stop or redirect him.

[Palliven]

Dalton Valentine, Explorer While it could be prudent and, perhaps, at times necessary, Dalton did not enjoy physical violence. He took no pleasure in hurting another man, gained no satisfaction at drawing blood. Yet it was too often a violent world and like it or not, there were times he must respond it kind. Like today. He felt the jarring shock in his hand as the heavy ashtray connected with the solid jaw of the killer. He watched him start to fall, his knees buckling underneath him from the blow and would have been satisfied to leave it at that. Take the man out of the fight and let the police take it from there. That was good enough for him but apparently not for Alexsander. He was unprepared to see the lad take a heavy pipe to the already neutralized man. Again. And again. For a moment he could do nothing but watch. Not in shock. No, he had unfortunately seen man bring pain down on man before. He stood still out of a sense of sadness. Sad that a man could be so damaged, so unfeeling or so hateful themselves that they could do such a thing to another. He did not know Alexsandr well enough to say which of those drove him in what he was doing but he had the hope it was not the later. A man filled by hate was unpredictable and dangerous. The sound of the man's skull cracking brings Dalton back to the matter at hand. My God, enough is enough. Letting the blood stained ashtray drop from his fingers and onto the desk, Dalton moved from behind it so he was next to Alexsandr on the side not bringing the pipe down. "Enough. It's over son. You can stop." He says in as calm and non threatening voice as he could. As he spoke he placed a hand on the man's shoulder, gripping it firm enough so his presence would be felt through the haze Alexsandr seemed to be in.

[GeneT]

---

The Dark When there are no lights and the space is small, killing is an intimate thing. Warm grunting breaths. Biting. Stabbing darkness. You can't really see anything and that makes it less real. Until you crawl out of the rubble blasted window into a bright moon. Everything may be grey, but their liquid on you is still red even in that timid light. And sticky. You wake men with those memories carefully. From a few paces back. Maybe even from outside the door to their cheap room. And with a lot of noise. You want to make sure they can't get their hands on you before their eyes are seeing. Before they've fully left that terrible grey waste. Dalton Valentine does not know this. Maybe he has been to War and forgotten. Or maybe he hasn't. And it should have turned out worse except for the pipe becoming lodged in the ruin of the man's skull and Valentine's touch upon Aleksandr's shoulder causing him to jolt and spin, hands now empty. Aleksandr has fought his way living out of a dark bombed building. He turns, eyes blank, and sweeps Valentine's arm under his own at the elbow while his other hand grabs the front of Valentines shirt. There is, then, a moment. A brief flickering thing which could burn one way or splutter out. Dalton Valentine can see it true. Aleksandr is not there with him. His eyes are blank. He is somewhere else. Somewhere far worse. Some terrible dark burned out shell of a place in which he stabs and stabs and stabs his way out only to wish he'd lost and was left there instead of living. Aleksandr blinks. Pupils shuddering. He lets go of the explorer and steps back. Saying nothing, Aleksandr turns and pulls the metal pipe from the man's head. It wasn't dark in this burned out place and Aleksandr could see it wasn't time to stop. Alek. That one's still breathing. "On it," Dalton Valentine hears Aleksandr mumble just before he steps toward the men attacking Dennis and brings his bloody pipe down again.

Mechanics Condition : Psychosis Level 1 Dice Pipe Strike: 6D6smh6 3 ✘, 3 ✘, 2 ✘, 6 ✔, 1 ✘, 5 ✘ (1/6) Total = 20 Dice Block and Parry: 7D6smh6 3 ✘, 4 ✘, 6 ✔, 6 ✔, 4 ✘, 4 ✘, 4 ✘ (2/7) Total = 31

[OneDarkness]

Rosabelle, Hotel room of death Isadora gives the inquisitive resident a small smile and motions with her head to suggest they might be better off going back into their room, before she herself steps into the room so as not to be standing in the hall looking in. If they know whats good for them they will got take a hot shower and find out what happened later. Stepping into the room, Isadora closes the broken door as best she can to bloke the view of anybody who decides to take a peek, she gasps when she finally sees Jackson with a reactive hand to the mouth. What have I gotten myself into. The gentlemen seem to have things relatively well in hand, or would soon enough, there are going to be a lot of questions by the police though.

ooc nothing of note

[Palliven]

Dalton Valentine, Explorer As the heavy pipe lodged in the smashed skull and Alexsandr intuitively let his grip loosen, Dalton's eyes were drawn to the pulpy mess it had created. For the briefest of seconds it looked as if the dead man's eyes (well at least the one that hadn't been knocked out of its socket and lay dangling by a twisted bundle of nerves and tissue) stared at Dalton accusingly. That can't be! A quick blink to clear his vision proved him wrong. Sitting on the floor, it's milky round side inches from Alexsandr's boot and it's pupil staring at the floor was the eye he had thought had glared at him. He had little time to think on this gruesome matter for in a quick flash the young slav grabbed his arm in an elbow lock and took hold of his shirt. He's not going to stop. The bastard's going to break it. And then he let go, moving on to savage another of the killers they had stumbled upon. Dalton had seen that blank, dead stare before. Twice. The first time in Suzhou on the face of another prisoner. They had tortured all joy and humanity from her and in the nearly three years they kept him in that dismal place, he had seen her do nothing but stare. The second time had been in Calcutta and it belonged to a man that tried to strangle him. Dalton had learned later that the man he had been forced to kill belonged to a death cult and was sustained by little more than a regiment of narcotics. This one's going to be a problem. Best keep him where you can see him Dalton ol'boy. Scanning the desk for something he could use the brass handle of a letter opener caught his attention. Grabbing hold of it he was pleased to feel how light and balanced it was. Taking aim at the thigh of the man that had just rushed to the window he threw with a practiced grace. They needed one of these men alive. To answer questions and possibly to keep them out of jail for committing murder themselves. He doubted the killer would intentionally help them, but having him to question the police could likely piece it all together. He hoped. OOC - Throw letter opener Dice Roll: 6d6smh6 5 ✘, 2 ✘, 6 ✔, 1 ✘, 4 ✘, 3 ✘ (1/6) Total = 21