The Journeyman from Ryu-Kyu

[Brian]

<Brian> The scene is thus.  You are driving down the snowy streets of S.F., Al's Car Dealership on your left.  The name isn't on a sign, it's painted across the top of his angled roof, and raised slightly.  The snow appears to be covering the 'Honest', which appears in the window....
<Death> An Omen.
Death eyes the lot.
<Brian> It's got a few dozen cars in it.  Most look decent, you think, though there is snow on a lot of them.
Death parks by the dealership and goes out to inspect the merchandise
<Brian> Al watches you from inside the door, but doesn't come out to greet you until you start looking at other cars.  Al himself is a great man, in stature, assuming stature is measured from side-to-side.  He emerges from his glass-walled office after seeing you, and pulling on a jacket.  "Howdy!" he yells, stomping within proper speaking distance, and wearing a grin.
<Brian> "What kin' I do ya fer?"
Death goes "Hmmm" and starts inspecting the cars for defects
<Brian> They look okay for used cars.  No gems, and he didn't really repaint them so well.  From what you can see, decent attention was paid to the actual working of the cars, instead of the look, so it's not a total loss.
<Death> "Not bad."
<Brian> "Crazy weather, huh?" Al asks, as a police cruiser turns down the street, slows, and stops behind the car you came in with.
Death nods
Death inquires as to prices, keeping track of that police cruiser out of the corner of his eye
<Brian> Two officers emerge, one to lean strenuously against the car and catch his breath after the arduous task of door opening, the other to approach the stolen car and inspect the license plate, as though it were somehow more visible from the street than behind the wheel.
<Brian> "Oh, well, prices are gonna vary, depending on the model and the year, you know.  You want a cheap car, I got cheap cars.  You want a dependable car, I got dependable cars.  You want a totally riced out civic, well, I got one of those, too."
<Death> "How about dependable and with room in the trunk?
<Brian> "Family man, eh?" Al says, nodding good naturedly.  "I got a station-wagon, if you're looking for it, and a mini-van, if you're looking for something bigger."
<Death> "Mini-van sounds abour right"
<Death> about
<Brian> You hear the crackle of the officer's radio, though you can't make out anything beyond a few sylables.  You catch, "...match ... ... ... pect ... ... onfirm ...."
<Brian> Al rubs his chin, then nods, and leads you towards a minivan.  Looks like a late 80's Chevy Astro, powder blue.
Death checks it out
<Brian> "This one's good -- I had to replace the engine when I got it, so we're talking solid.  Transmission had to go, too."
<Brian> Looks like Al really deserves that 'honest', as you inspect it.  The interior is not flawless, but good, considering it's used.
<Death> "How much?"
<Brian> The officers close their doors and begin meandering across the street towards you.
<Brian> "This one's a real beut -- especially if you're looking up to pack up and move out, like most people.  I could probably let it go for, oh ... three thousand two hundred.  Full tank of gas, and spare tire thrown in, too."
<Brian> Well, maybe Al ain't so honest.
<Death> "$1800"
<Brian> Al looks wounded.  "My friend!  That's gonna hurt -- $2800."
<Brian> The cops are in the lot behind you, and you hear (through the static) "...fur coat.  Over."
<Death> "Let's keep it platonic, $2000."
<Brian> "$2700."
<Death> "$2300."
<Brian> "$2600, and I'm going hungry tonight."  He pats his rather obvious stomach.  "And you know that's gonna hurt me."
<Brian> You can now hear the police.  "...looks like him, alright."
<Death> "$2500, you can stand a little hunger pangs. And that's my final offer."
<Brian> "Well, that sounds fair," Al drawls slowly.  "But ... how about ... 1500, if you trade in your old car?"
<Death> "Done."
<Brian> The police officer's footsteps are crunching through the snow behind you.
<Brian> "Great!  Let's go inside, I'll get the paper ... oh, uh, hello, officers, can we help you?"
Death turns around to face the officers
<Brian> The police are now right behind you, a few steps away, each.  "Hello, Sir," one says, nodding at you.  You feel oddly self-consious in your polar-bear skin.  "Is that your vehicle?" he turns to point to the old Datsun.
<Death> "It was."
<Brian> "Actually," Al puts in helpfully, "he was just about to sell it to me, so if it's got a bad smog sticker, or something, I'll take care of it."
<Brian> One of the officers takes a few steps back, and hits his walkie-talkie button.  "Got a confirmation on that, HQ, south-west of market district on Gable, looks like 20345 Grant road."
<Brian> "Okay," the other one says.  "Do you mind if I ask to see your ID, and registration?"
<Death> "They're in the car."
Death points
<Death> "why, is there a problem?"
<Brian> "Sir," the man says frankly, "this car was reported stolen.  Is this car yours, or a family member's?"
<Death> "I didn't know they passed a law outlawing buying used cars."
<Brian> "I'm afraid I don't understand your logic, Sir.  I'm going to have to ask you to show me your ID, and provide proof of registration for your vehicle."
<Death> "That jerk! Trying to pull insurance fraud on me!"
<Brian> Al steps backwards slowly, looking nervous, and the further officer rests one hand on his baton.
<Brian> "Al," the officer says, nodding respectfully.  "Mom says 'hi'."  Turning back to you, he says, "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."
<Death> "First he tries to welch out on his debt, then tries to kill me, and now he's trying to collect the insurance on that hunk of junk."
<Death> "Gladly, I'll be pressing charges for attempted murder."
<Brian> The officers stare at you.
<Brian> "Are you resisting arrest?" the first one asks, narrowing his eyes.
<Brian> roll 2#1d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 2#1d6 --> [ 1d6=5 ]{5}, [ 1d6=6 ]{6}
<Death> "You heard me, let's go down to the station so I can press attempted murder charges against that lying welcher."
<Brian> Right at about this moment, a roaring engine sounds, and a car TEARS down the road behind you, screeching to a halt on the road, and spinning around to a halt in the middle of the road.
<Brian> One of the officers (the closer one) stares resolutely after it, while the other turns around to look at what's going on behind him.
<Brian> Two people climb out of the car -- a blonde woman with short hair, and a tall, somewhat thin man in a lab coat.  He's got dark hair, semi-unkempt, and you can tell from here he's got a nervous habit of chewing bubble gum, which he's doing right now.
Death blinks.
<Brian> They stat dashing towards you, the woman calling out, "Takeshi sweetie!  Takeshi sweetie!  Please don't shoot, officers!"
<Brian> The officers both look mildly offended at this.
<Brian> "Takeshi," the man in the lab coat scolds.  "I've TOLD you not to forget to take your medicine."
Death blinks again.
<Brian> Both of the officers turn to look, though they're warily keeping a half-an eye on you.
<Death> "And you would be?"
<Brian> The blonde woman runs up and hugs you tightly.  "Takeshi, how could you forget your own aunt?"
Death points at the lab guy, then the girl.
Death blinks again.
<Death> "Since when do I have a caucasian aunt?"
Death points to his black hair, then to the woman's blonde hair
Death looks at the officers for help
<Brian> The woman looks mildly offended.  The officers look very confused.
<Brian> "My sister married his father," she explains apologetically.
<Brian> The man in the lab coat hangs his head, and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a wallet with slow deliberation.  "Officers, that's my car -- it wasn't actually stolen.  Or, well, maybe it was, but I don't want to press charges.  This is all just a misunderstanding."
<Brian> The second officer (the one further away) turns to face the doctor directly.  "Mr. Peterson?" he reads off the driver's license.  "I assume, if I go over to that car with you, that you can produce the registration and verify that this vehicle is actually yours?"
<Brian> "Yes," Dr. Peterson insists emphatically.  "Please, it's cold -- I'd like to get this taken care of, and Takeshi back home with his medicine."
<Brian> The officer looks doubtful, but follows the doctor to the car.
Death studies the doctor.
<Brian> The woman kisses your cheek affectionately, and loudly scolds, "Don't scare us like that!"  When the first officer looks away, she hisses, "Keep up the act -- we'll get you out of this."
Death mouths "Why?" when the officer looks away again
<Brian> Al looks very confused.  "Does this mean I won't be making a sale?" he asks, frowning.
<Death> "Sorry. Maybe once we get this all sorted out."
<Death> "At $2400."
<Brian> "Japan to America without any records through customs," she answers back, ruffling your hair as though you were a child.
<Brian> Loudly, she says, "What do you want for dinner tonight?"
<Brian> Al nods doubtfully at you.
<Brian> The doctor looks like the kind of guy who either thrives on stress, or is going to die from it shortly.  He adjusts a pair of spectacles, and shows paperwork (license, registration, etc.) to the officer nearby.
Death restrains his eyebrows from shooting off of his face at the sight.
<Death> "Steak, blood rare."
<Brian> "Oh, you know that red meat aggravates your condition," she chastizes.  The officers relax, and seem to believe the doctor, and the woman.
<Death> "I suppose Sashimi is out of the question then?
<Brian> "Oh, all right," she agrees.
<Brian> Finally, they agree to let you go in peace, ushering you to the car to verify that you're being taken care of properly.  Peterson explains that he'll have the Datsun towed later today, and that he doesn't want to press charges.
<Brian> "Go on and get in," the woman encourages, opening the rear door of the car, and motioning you in.
Death keeps an eye on the doctor's and woman's hands.
<Death> "Ladies first."
<Brian> She nods at you, and climbs into the seat, sliding over and then patting the seat next to her.  Peterson remains waiting outside for you to get in before he takes the driver's seat.
<Brian> The officers remain behind, one watching you suspiciosly, the other speaking with Al like an old friend.
Death slides in carefully after her.
<Brian> Peterson closes the door, and then hits the power lock, climbing into the driver's seat, and closing his own door.
<Brian> The officers continue to watch as he starts the engine up, and slowly drives down the street you came in on.
<Death> "Well, you certainly seem to know a lot about me."
Death studies the woman.
<Brian> "An open mind is an easy read," the woman says casually, fumbling for something in her purse.
<Brian> "Ridiculous," the doctor mutters.  "Completely ridiculous."
Death coughs.
<Death> "Telepaths?"
<Death> "So that would put you on which side then? I'm starting to lose count here."
<Brian> "I am," the blonde says casually.  "Section two?" she asks the doctor.
<Brian> "Four," he replies without hesitation.
<Brian> "Japan," the woman murmurs.  Her eyes widen, and she starts to tremble slightly.  "Ezmereth."  It comes out in a deep, hate-filled hiss.
<Brian> The woman's face distorts into raw fury.  "EZMERETH!" she yells at the doctor.
Death pulls out his stone knife and stabs at the woman.
<Brian> Make a roll.
<Death> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Death ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=6 ]{6}
<Death> ^^
<Brian> Nice.  You got her.  Now, roll 1 and 1/2 die of killing damage.
<Brian> "Count to fifty," Peterson replies placidly, before you make your move.  "Ezmereth is merely a component -- he may not even lead to the Wanderer."
<Death> roll 1d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Death ... : 1d6 --> [ 1d6=1 ]{1}
<Death> roll 1d3
<Brian> And, roll 1d6-1 for stun multiplier.
<Death> roll 1d6-1
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Death ... : 1d3 --> [ 1d3=1 ]{1}
<Death> "Well that answers that question."
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Death ... : 1d6-1 --> [ 1d6=3 ]{2}
<Brian> You inflict: 2 body, 2 stun killing damage.  She is not Wounded, she is not Stunned, and she is not Dazed.
<Brian> You are at full ECV.
<Brian> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=10 ]{10}
<Brian> Your dECV is 3.  Her oECV is 6.
<Brian> You are hit.
<Death> Ow.
<Brian> roll 4#1d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 4#1d6 --> [ 1d6=6 ]{6}, [ 1d6=2 ]{2}, [ 1d6=6 ]{6}, [ 1d6=1 ]{1}
Death kicks Suu.
<Brian> It feels remarkably like the doctor reached over the back of his seat, stuck an eggbeater in your skull, and began to whip vigorously.
<Brian> You take a total of 15 Stun, and are Dazed.
<Brian> The woman injects you while you're dizzy.
<Brian> Everything fades to black.

<Brian> You come to your senses (groggilly) strapped to a table, wearing a stark white jumpsuit.
<Brian> The doctor is leaning over you, and looking down with a smile.  The blonde is glaring at you with something bordering on murderous rage, and rubs at her bandaged arm almost compulsively.
Death hums mentally and pictures the blonde naked and doing obscene things in his mind while testing the restraints.
<Brian> "How are you feeling today?" the doctor asks pleasantly.
<Death> "I feel like I want my stuff back."
<Brian> Right now, wiggling your fingertips is going to be a serious achievement.  Whatever they hit you with was POTENT.
Death keeps the picture of the naked blonde in his head.
<Brian> "It's good to want," the blonde says, holding your stone knife aloft.  Looking up from the table she stares at the doctor intently.  "Let me go after Ezmereth.  We KNOW where he is.  He'll take me to the Wanderer, and I'll get it back."
Death smiles.
<Brian> "Sense of irony?" the doctor asks, eyeing the woman coolly.  "Patience, Miss Taylor.  Patience."
Death keeps the picture in his head as he attempts to get his body to cooperate.
<Brian> "I.  Want it.  Back," Miss Taylor says through gritted teeth.  The flecks of a frenzied foam line the corners of her lips.
<Brian> It's slow work -- everything below your waist is hitting snooze, but your fingers are a-twitchin'.
<Brian> "Calm yourself," the doctor says severely, eyeing her sharply.  "Do you require more medicine?"  She relaxes instantly, looking down and away.
Death concentrates on getting his fingers working.
<Brian> "No," she mumbles.
Death decides the picture needs music.
<Brian> Your fingers are now moving right, and you feel more awake.  Your wrist straps aren't budging, though.  The chest-straps only make it worse.
Death starts mentally replaying anime songs in his head, having the naked blonde dance.
Death tries to get his feet working.
<Death> "Yes, she does."
<Death> "I recommend a double dosage for her."
<Brian> The blonde's eyes widen.  "He's seen him.  The ... new guy.  What's his name," she says, throwing the knife onto a tray.  It clatters loudly.
<Brian> Her eyes widen more.  "The bracelet.  Ashnod's supposed to use it for something."
<Brian> "Mmm," the doctor grunts, eyeing you thoughtfully.
<Brian> "Is he dangerous?" he asks, looking up at Taylor.
Death continues trying to work his feet.
<Brian> They're tingling.  Ouch.  Feels like they've been asleep for hours.
<Brian> She runs her fingers through her hair, scrubbing at her scalp.  "Not ... half as much as he thinks he is," she says slowly.  "I ... there's more he doesn't know.  I can't ... figure it out.  He doesn't KNOW yet!"
Death tries to figure out how she's seeing into his head.
<Death> "You aren't very good at this mind reading gig are you?"
<Brian> She grabs the knife from the table, and slams it into the bed, centimeters from your head.  "Let me cut him," she says.  "I get a better read when they're dying."
<Brian> "Patience," the doctor stresses again.
<Brian> She growls like a feral animal, but backs away, leaving the knife stuck in the bed, right next to your head.
<Death> "She really needs an injection."
<Death> "Actually better make it two, the extra one should take the edge off of her PMS."
<Brian> "Calm, calm," Peterson soothes her, frowning.  "The bracelet.  Well, well, well.  We fish for the Wanderer and catch Ashnod's secret ... and find Ezmereth.  I think today has been..." he pauses, then smiles, pulling a stick of gum from a silver case tucked into his jacket.  "...quite lucky."  He claps his hands, and two S.W.A.T. armored guards arrive.  "Dose him, and drop him off in section four," he orders.
<Brian> He smiles at you, and tucks the gum into the neck of your shirt.  "Good boy," he says mockingly.  "Behave, and tomorrow, maybe you'll get another."  Taylor grumbles, and injects a needle into your arm ... and everything goes black again.
<Brian> We'll move back to the forums from here.

[Brian]

This thread now merges here.