A Gamma World® play-by-post adventure run by gammaworld_gm
Kicker snarls as the wind from the speeding grav-limo throws the careful placement of her many beaded necklaces into disarray. Fortunately, she had found an alcove in which to hide from sight as it flew past her. She had been traveling through the tunnel leading to the old abandoned Starport for what seemed like eons and was at last nearing its end.
The tracking skills of her ancestors were not needed to discover the limo, now empty, haphazardly parked in the underground garage. She carefully examines the area around the car for tracks; her large, luminous green eyes have no difficulty even in the scant light left.
An observer would see a tall, lean leopardoid with spotted golden fur. Her sheath armor is decorated with beadwork and feathers. A bow and quiver of arrows is slung on her back, and an energy mace hangs at her side. One of her necklaces is a truly impressive collection of teeth and claws, interspersed with semiprecious stones. Another holds a small leather pouch. She follows the trail inside, pausing momentarily to consider a pile of molted chicken feathers.
"No," she decides, "too coarse." Continuing on, she finds more feathers, mixed with bits of plant matter and chicken poop. It appears something heavy has been dragged away from here. Intrigued, she silently follows the trail, eventually finding....
Jonn wonders why the mutant Venus Fly Trap dragged Captain Leghorn all this way without digesting the "tendril-lickin' good!" Roosteroid on the spot. Maybe it was taking him back home to feed the kids: "Hi honey, I'm home! I brought chicken!" But even carnivorous plants need sunlight, and this place is pitch dark. No, this plant is up to something. "It's definitely intelligent, and yet it's not trying to escape from us," Jonn mutters.
"I posit that this is precisely why Jonn could never make the ranks of NARC. Besides the fact that he can't 'fly a flitter,' as Howard would point out, he just can't put 27 and 45 together to make... er, a bigger number. And look how oblivious he is to Lamia! What I'm trying to say here is, he just can't see the forest for the trees! What a complete moron! What a total nincompoop! What a---"
"Well, I still like him, so there. I'm holding out hope! My thumb's still up!"
Feeling like he was missing something, Jonn nevertheless halts in mid-stride, and from his pack pulls out a pair of pantyhose he'd taken from the trunk of their erstwhile grav-car, and also the bottle of intoxicant he'd recovered from the Oad-Ck-Factory. "Geo, you got a lighter in there?"
As my extra-sensitive sensory organs alert me to more danger than is seen, I cry "Ambush! Take to your feet!" and wheel around (either left, right, or 180) to the source of the loudest sound, leveling my rifle off and remembering the instructions given to me on how to fire the dang thing.
I jump suddenly at Jonn's "thumbs still up," but before I can protest at the placement of his hand and use of his thumb, I look down to see him taking out a bottle of intoxicant and a pair of pantyhose. Both surprised and amused, I say, "Please Jonn, this is not really the time to be giving me gifts. It is sweet, though! Really it's just bad timing!"
The half-dozen harmless pack-rat lizard creatures scurry back into their underground sewer openings as you approach the grav-limo. Many small eyes watch you as you continue on past. Once on the ground level of the Starport, the path you follow takes you down a non-operational escalator into Section Sub 2, Area 3, as it says clearly on wall.
Nimbly, you bound down the metal stairs without making even the slightest sound. The plant matter and chicken poop make for an easy trail. Walking cautiously for a few more minutes, you catch the scent of several beings up ahead. Your lean, Leoparoid body with spotted gold fur and large green eyes twists and moves, looking everywhere. Missing nothing, you smell the unmistakably strong sent of a male Cougaroid among the beings surrounded by the plant creatures.
The Venus flytrap-looking plants with dozen of long tendrils with pods move in on the beings from all directions. Your night vision shows at least 50 plants moving about the huge room filled with pipes and unknown mechanical objects. Using a large concrete column for cover, you pull the pin on an energy grenade and toss it into a group of seven vicious looking plants. The silent plants' attempted trap suddenly fails as your grenade explodes, instantly shredding all seven plants into mulch.
(Combat has started: you can do one action per turn.)
Howard, you feel your bio-electric force field start working. Now the fun starts.
"Gallus 5/13 wants to know who '9-1-1' is, Howard? Sure Jonn, flaming drink it is!" Using one finger (his GeoLighter™), the robot lights the pantyhose-wrapped bottle of intoxicant and wonders why Lamia is suddenly frowning.
Before all hell breaks loose, it breaks loose behind you first. Without warning, an energy grenade explodes, instantly shredding seven plant creatures into small-sized cubish mulch. Whoever did it, they just helped you.
Jonn throws the bottle of flaming intoxicant, which explodes into a huge ball of fire, engulfing three nearby plants.
Fiddling with his weapon, Brimstone notices again the small words on the bottom of his rifle, "Made by Atari Corp."
Spinning around 180, the Cougaroid yells "Ambush! Take to your feet!" His first shot disintegrates three plants who were lined up like little duckies. With the pulse rifle's frontal shield protecting him, Brimstone backs up near Geo to have a shield on both sides.
Jake fires his Mark VII rifle, blasting the head off a nearby plant, as he dives nearby the metal machinery for cover.
Geo grabs Jonn and pulls him into his force field.
Lamia touches Howard's force field and then instantly creates one of her own.
Dozens of plants fire many mini-seed pod fragmentation grenades that begin exploding all around you.
Even in the din of battle, with the sharp scents of explosive blant seeds, plasma discharges from energy rifles, and burning alcohol, I suddenly detect the definite but keenly masked scent of a female cat.
Sniffing vigorously, I move my head around in combat, captivated by the curious scent. My neck arches and by back stiffens, probing the air in the room.
"Hey furball! Blue warrior needs to fight, now!"
A few plant seed explosives glance off the rifle's force shield, but my concentration is instinctively focused elsewhere. My grip on the rifle loosens slightly, and my stance slowly fades out of "combat." Only one thought is now moving through my dimly lit and oft-foggy Cougaroid brain....
The sent you (Brimstone) smell is that of a young/mature female unknown to you. At least a half dozen mini-pod grenades explode in front of you. You are staggered back under the impact. Your pulse rifle's force field takes all of the initial (8d8) damage, but then falters and then goes down, leaving you unprotected.
The remaining plants move in. A single tendril whips around Brimstone's pulse rifle, and a second one winds itself around Brimstone's leg, but it fails to jerk him off his feet this turn.
Mini-pod grenades bring down Geo's force shield (with 11d8 damage). Some damage tears into the robot as he attempts to remain standing and to shield Jonn.
Lamia fires her black ray pistol at the plant holding Captain Leghorn, burning one of its tendrils in two. Lamia takes (5d8) damage and her imitation force shield goes down.
A single tendril whips around Lamia's neck, jerking her off her feet and pulling her towards the plant.
Jonn takes no damage.
Howard's force shield takes (4d8) damage but remains up.
More plants move in.
The sudden blast breaks my trance just in time for me to see the two tendrils wrap around my leg and rifle.
"Hey! Hands off!" I say, and I fire my pulse rifle at the plant accosting me. "Buy me some time, I'm going to through some PlayDoh™ at them!"
"Only three shots left, Blue Warrior!"
Jonn's gratitude for Geo's selflessness would have to wait. That robot had a heart of pure gold-pressed latinum. Likewise, the good Captain would have to hang in there for a little while longer. Jonn could have rationalized his next decision in many ways, but he didn't; he acted on a gut reflex he was surprised he possessed.
Seeing Lamia being dragged toward a gaping tooth-dense pod-maw, Jonn rips the rest of his auto-rifle's clip into the beast, and any other plants that get in the way.
Having aimed quite long enough (did I miss a post?), the mutant duck squeezes the trigger of his IR rifle. He makes sure not to blast Captain Leghorn or Lamia in the process. With his shot peeled off, and realizing that his shield is the only one that remains active, Howard flaps over to float in between the plant and his friends, slobbering, "That'sth about enough trouble out of you, Misther planth!"
The plant grabbing your leg and rifle is suddenly blasted into a shower of tiny green pieces. The tendrils gripping you go limp and you quickly throw them off. A low ammo warning light come on, blinking on the side of your Pulse Rifle. When you don't have any shots left, your rifle will also be out of power and automatically shut down until its rare Atomic Energy Cell is replaced.
The plant pulling Lamia towards it is instantly reduced to a pile of seeping green stuff, and she is released. Other plants also feel the bite of your auto rifle as they attempt to close in and finish you off like some worthless lump of Pure Strain Human.
No, I assumed Howard was firing; I just couldn't remember what he was firing. Actually, I think I completely overlooked you like some blue duck hanging up as a prize at some fair somewhere. Sorry!
Firing your IR rifle multiple times, like you missed a turn or something, you blast several plants into much small useless unliving plant parts and also release Captain Leghorn in the process, but narrowly missing him. Like a chicken free from a Cougaroid's mouth, Captain Leghorn squawks and then rushes back into the group, getting behind the first person he can find, Brimstone.
Freed, I quickly crawl on my hands and knees through the green liquid (which just happens to match my wonderful skin color), back to Jonn's feet, assuming a pose against his leg that would make even Frank Frazetta consider painting it!
I feel lucky to be alive at this point in the battle, when most GMs have by now selected an unlucky player to take the full brunt of their frustrations and damage. I look toward Brimstone.
For some reason the movie 'Chicken Run' suddenly comes to mind. As for picking Brimstone to hide behind? Would I do that? Really GM? He's always the one you pick to take the damage---even I know that. What? <Whispering to someone in the background> Yeah, uhuh! Teheh! Ignore this, this was supposed to be an off-line message. Act like you never read this.
<Pant, pant, pant>, <heavy breathing> "I say, I say there, furball, I thought for sure I was deep fried (southern style) there for a moment!" I say, doing my best imitation of myself.
Howard glances at his IR rifle after shooting his volley, and sees that its power source is exhausted. He flips the rifle over his shoulder on its strap, and it settles into place next to his grenade launcher. In the same motion, he pulls forward his needler and continues the barrage. He's not too confident about the effects of the intensity 17 paralytic poison on a mutated plant, but short of blowing everyone up with one of his frag grenades, it's all he has left.
Howard also notices the plants that had been mowed down from behind their position, and risks a glance to see if he can spot their secret defender.
Jonn quickly ejects his emptied clip, which barely misses Lamia on its way down, and pops in a fresh one. He barely has time to check out Lamia's condition, much less her picturesque stance, but he does catch a glance from his viewpoint that confirms one more suspicion: the green does go all the way down the Gren. Hmm, or maybe that was plant juice....
Well, mutated or not, plants shred nicely under a relentless stream of lead-encased depleted uranium slugs, so if he has time, Jonn rips another full clip of his auto rifle into the copse of plants he'd wounded before, hoping to lessen the impact of their next explosive volley.
Taking a view of the room, I check to see exactly how many plants are left... er... standing, and if any of them are close enough to risk using half a block of Play Doh.
At the edge of your (Howard) vision and hiding behind a concrete pillar you see a tall, lean leopardoid with spotted gold fur and large green eyes. She is wearing sheath armor decorated with beadwork and feathers. She wears several necklaces, most are just various beads, but one is made of teeth and claws interspersed with semiprecious stones, and one holds a small leather pouch. She has a energy mace, and a bow and a quiver of arrows.
Your needler does no damage to to the plants. Four mini-pod grenades explode in front of you (Howard) bringing your shield down and giving you (20 points of) damage.
Removing one hand from the rifle briefly, I rub my eyes quickly and unleash my gamma eyes on the nearest targetable plant.
For those of you who did not keep up with his ungodly flurry of posts (e.g. Kicker, Jake), feel free to add to your posts that you were also fighting the plants in your own way. I assumed you were doing so anyway. At the highest point in the battle, there were at least 35 plants in this room.
Even the plants come to their synthesis [sic] and realize they have suddenly taken on more fertilizer than they can ever hope to incorporate. Indeed, Jake's blaster fires repeatedly, Jonn's relentless stream of lead-encased depleted uranium slugs rip into them from one direction and Brimstone's gamma eyes give them a healthy dose of searing radiation from a different direction. Seeing their perennial comrades dying right and left, the few remaining plants scatter and flee in different directions as fast as their tendrils will pull them.
As quickly as the battle started, it is over. But....
A single neutron weapon blast strikes Howard (doing a CON 22 hit) causing him to fall to the floor unconscious. (Howard will be unconscious for one hour for every point his CON is below 22. Howard's CON is 18.) The blast came from the darkness. No source can be seen.
Noticing Jonn looking down at more than my picturesque stance, I smile as best as one can while sitting in plant juice with tight underwear riding up a bit too high. The thought of Jonn checking out my merchandise before committing to me amuses me.
Realizing that I'm spotted (no pun intended), I give a feline shrug and step out from behind my pillar to meet this strange group. With the foilage fled it looks safe enough; the Gren wrapped around the Pure Strain's leg sure seems to be Miss Congeniality. I keep an arrow strung on my bow anyway, just in case.
Before I so much as open my mouth, the odd duck keels over from a neutron blast. I look about for the source of this latest attack, swearing, "Damn! What'd you guys do, win a popularity contest?"
Yeah, yeah, that's the ticket. I was fighting the plants in my own way; perhaps I challenged them to a flower arranging contest. Naaaahhhh, I think I'll just blast 'em.
I spray my blaster across any retreating plants that even try to get "frondly" as I sing in my best falsetto, "Tiptoe through the tulips, by the...."
"C'mon back and fight, ya buncha pansies!"
As the Duckoid falls, and fearing the worst (that K-11 is doing a Terminator routine on us), I dive for cover. "Hey, Geo," I yell, "can you light up the area for us?"
I wrack my brain for the location of any kind of deactivation switch that might be accessible on the K-11 unit.
This page updated: Mon Jan 09 14:22:17 2006
All text Copyright ©1999-2006 PBPArchives.