IC-Ep 5-Storming the Castle(Everyone else)

[aine]

Tobias gives a grateful smile to Dr. Kirby as he regains consciousness and rubs his temples ruefully. He briefly considers a desk job before getting to his feet. He picks up his Glock and aims it the woman in the doorway. "Stop or I'll shoot." He says unimaginatively.

[Vladd]

Containing his disgust at the woman Peter threw another punch.

Spoiler:

Punching the Dunwich woman (fist 50%): 1d100 25

[Mr. Handy]

OOC,[b]Peter[/b], please roll 1d3+1d4 to see how much damage you caused. If you intend this as a knockout blow, please also roll 1d100 for the Resistance Table roll that will pit your damage against her HP total to see if she goes down outright. [b]Gordon[/b], the only way you'll know if someone else in the group knows Japanese is to ask them. However, that critical Luck roll you already rolled will carry over towards that.

[Vladd]

Peter managed to overcome his reluctance to hit a woman and landed a punch.

Spoiler:

Damage to Dunwich woman: 1d3+1d4 6
Knocking out Dunwich woman: 1d100 18

[johnson41996]

?,so am i still loading the .45 or am i free to act at this point

[Mr. Handy]

The woman reeled, but she did not fall. Spitting out blood, she rounded on Peter and swung her fist at him, socking him in the jaw but failing to down him.

OOC,[b]Gordon[/b], you're still reloading. It takes one round to load two bullets into a revolver. Servant's Fist/Punch roll (55% skill) attacking [b]Peter[/b], knockout attempt: [dice]0[/dice] Damage to [b]Peter[/b] from punch: [dice]1[/dice] Resistance Table roll: 2 damage vs. 11 HP (5% chance) to see if [b]Peter[/b] is knocked unconscious. [dice]2[/dice] [b]Tobias[/b], [b]Peter[/b], and [b]Donald[/b], you may all act now.

[Vladd]

Peter reeled slightly from the blow, and smiled. So the bitch can fight back, he thought feeling less guilty about hitting her. He punched her again.

Spoiler:

Punching Servant: 1d100 72 That could have gone better.

[aine]

Tobias can't shoot as Peter is too close to the woman; she's obviously too crazy to even heed him anyway. Still, he keeps his gun trained in her direction in case the opportunity arises.

[johnson41996]

"What was that?!?" Gordon spun on his heels, and scanned the edge of his vision for signs of life, or something even worse. "My mind is playing tricks on me..." he mumbled to himself, as he slid another bullet home in the barrel of the Webley. Although Gordon was thoroughly trained to excel in combat situations, he had never actually had to turn a firearm on another living creature. This was something that in the past Gordon took great pride in himself for, but there was something about this place... Something intuitive, something that crept along the parameter of his conscious thought, Something that told him that his non-violent approach to life was about to be severely challenged. Digging into his pocket, Gordon pulled out another bullet and held it up for examination in the faint light, a grave expression on his face. He knew that by the end of the day, he was going to have to take a life. He always knew it was a possibility, hell, he was in the armed forces for Christ sake. But Gordon always believed in the back of his mind that he could avoid it in some kind of way. That being a soldier did not necessarily mean he had to be a harbinger of death. He joined the forces to SAVE lives. But somehow, Gordon knew that this was the wrong place and the wrong time for such philosophical thoughts. This was a battle field. He was deep behind enemy lines for the first time in his life with no reassurance of backup or rescue. Hell, the whole building might be flopping around on fishy feet searching for the last survivor of the doomed infiltration team. "I wonder what they have planned for us should we fail our mission.." Humans were predictable. There was a myriad of possible grisly ends one could imagine suffering at the hands of a human captor, but there's the merciful part of it, one could actually CONCEIVE of those horrors. These.....THINGS.....whatever they are, wherever they crawled out of, there was no way of predicting ones fate at the hands of such abominations. Gordons thoughts raced back to the encounter back at headquarters, the sea devils slimy muscles bulging, its extremities straining to break out of its bonds, its maddening advance... How could something like that exist? Screw the obvious questions such as evolution and biology, how the bloody hell does it EXIST? Everything about its being strained at Gordons entire world view, where people were at the top of the food chain, and nightmarish sea devils were merely a tall tale spread by exasperated mothers to coax their children into washing their hands before meals. "Have we co-existed with these beasts throughout the history of humankind? Are they visitors from a strange and unimaginable planet? What chance do we truly stand against beings we couldn't even begin to conceive, and which bend our minds and perception of reality at the mere sight of their alien physique?" For all of our accomplishments, for all the leaps and bounds of our most brilliant minds, humans are truly insignificant in the great scheme of things, motes of dust floating around the vastness of infinite nothingness waiting to be scattered in the wake of some other unknowable horror we have yet to discover, or be discovered by. Sure, we may win the fight today, we may slaughter every last one of the maddening abominations, and send me home with a bloody parade. But now we know... I know that there are horrors out there that threaten to tear us apart body, mind and soul. When i am left a mad husk of a man, my fragile mind broken by the horrors i may or may not live to witness in our attempt to control the unknown, there will be another; somewhere in the delicate reality we constructed to comfort our fragile psyches, there is bound to be a greater, unknowable...THING...that threatens to shatter our delicate world view, with power and forces we never knew could of existed. "Whats the point...?" Gordon whispered, his voice cracking with despair as he loaded another bullet into the chamber of his now theoretically useless firearm. He briefly paused to stare at his newly acquired firearm. A .45 round may be enough to drop one of these demons, but what would it really accomplish? A prolonging of our species existence? Would it be enough to stop the next horror we encounter in our mad dash through our now questionable history, or would it best serve as a merciful exit from a flawed reality that a fragile mind can no longer begin to come to terms with, an escape from an unknowable horror at the hands of the enemy? Gordon continued loading his firearm, slamming another bullet home with a satisfying *click* that his mind had no problem understanding. The click echoed in the now deathly silent room, and for a few moments, Gordon felt truly alone in the infinite unknown. "I suppose there is no point in tormenting myself with such questions and doubts." Gordon whispered into infinity. "If i want to live to see my loved ones again."

Light-years away, a planet shifted out of its orbit of a nearby star. If any living being happened to be around to witness the cosmic event, their mind would of been shattered upon the realization that this was no planet, but a gargantuan mass of life. A grotesque eyeball opened, the disgusting lens covering a substantial portion of the surface of the "planetoid". Appendages unwound from the writhing mass of the surface of the nightmare orb and began to stretch and contort in the warm light of the star. The being of unknown time and inconceivable origins rotated until it faced the source of the disturbance that called to him across the vast vacuum of space. Focusing powers that would erase an army of men not only from existence but the memories of their friends and loved ones, he/she/it reached across a distance that no one could ever hope to measure, and looked down on a lone humanoid sitting in the attic of what simultaneously was and wasn't his final resting place and "felt" his turmoil. Listening in on the humanoids despair at his growing "comprehension" of the true nature of existence and its insignificant place in the vast workings of "being", it chuckled in a deep resounding voice that traveled through the black void of space to a far off planet and shattered the minds of a tribe of alien creatures. After millions of years of evolution and adaption to harsh planetary conditions, a race of beings vaguely resembling a cross between a squid and a praying mantis had just resolved a war that had wiped out almost half of the worlds population and lasted so many years that the true cause of the conflict had been lost in time and blood. The beings leaders approached one another with the intention of performing the ceremonial peace connection, but the only peace they found was in the sweet release of being after one intense second of indescribable pain. All across the planet, the I'jjka fell to the ground in unison, their offspring at their feet, generations of evolutionary struggle and progress, blown away into the winds of non-existence like the seeds from a dandelion. He/She/It began to feed on the humans despair, ravenously absorbing his anguish, giddily drinking his sorrow when the human realized how worthless his actions were in the grand tapestry of life, savoring his all too brief contemplation of suicide as though it was a fine delicacy, greedily devouring every last thought of hopelessness and insignificance. It was rare that He/She/It was able to find such a troubled mind to feed from, and it languished in every painful realization until the human apparently decided his energy was best spent continuing its pathetic existence. Satisfied, He/She/It fell back into the warm embrace of the stars orbit and returned to its unfathomable rest, and continued dreaming a new reality, now a few feelings of despair stronger, full of horrors that would be impossible to even come to be on our plane of existence. He/She/It toyed with its perceived reality, and the unlucky things residing in it. He/She/It took great pleasure in tormenting one unfortunate existence with the helpless thoughts of Gordons suicide, until it decided it could no longer stand the horror of being, and passed on into nothingness. He/She/It slept even more soundly in the warm orbit of a star whose name was lost with the passage of time.

Back on Earth, a man sat huddled in a cold attic, alone, confused, slowly loading a .45 with steady, comforting *clicks*. He waited and prayed for a voice to come in over the radio and pondered his next move, wishing he had an aspirin for the headache he felt come on all of a sudden. Dust motes danced and sparkled in a insignificant yet highly complex pattern that was calculated in real time, reflected by a lone beam of moonlight that managed to slip through a crack in the roof. Gordon stopped his task for a split second to ponder the feeling of correlation the quantum guided dust motes evoked in him, and promptly returned to his task, figuring his wife said it best, "Not tonight dear I have a headache..."

[Mr. Handy]

Donald swung his rifle at the woman's head again, but she ducked and it sailed over her head. She took another swing at Peter, but she was off-balance.

Then a voice came in over the radio, and Gordon soon regretted getting his wish."Trap One to Greyhound One!" shouted the agitated and frightened voice of Dr. Salem Shields. Gunfire and screaming were audible in the background. "We're under attack!"

OOC,[b]Donald[/b]'s Large Club roll (25% base skill) trying to club the woman, knockout attempt. [dice]0[/dice] Servant's Fist/Punch roll (55% skill) attacking [b]Peter[/b] again, knockout attempt. [dice]1[/dice] [b]Gordon[/b], you've finished loading the revolver. It's now a new round of combat, and everyone may now act.

[johnson41996]

Gordon jumped at the panicked voice over the radio. "This is bad, Christ help us this is bad..." What in gods name was going on out there? It sounded like a bloody war was breaking out at Trap Ones position. Gordon was unsure of what his next move should be, he never heard back from the rest of Greyhound One, for all he knew they had been ground into flakes and fed to a tank of baby Sea Devils. He knew that Trap One was in a bad spot, but he had a mission to finish here at the mansion, regardless of his teams status, and he knew he wasn't going to be a shining beacon of hope riding onto the battlefield to Trap Ones eyes. Gordon picked up his radio, thumbed the button, and responded "Trap One this is Gordon of Greyhound One, Ive temporarily lost contact with the rest of my unit, whats your teams status?". Gordon sat down, and attempted to calm his breathing. His heartbeat was rapid, and he was taking shallow, panicked breaths. "Ive got to calm down and think..." Gordon had always been a bookworm, and reading usually helped calm his nerves and focus his thoughts. Looking at the stack of data he had found, he sorted through it until he had the Book of Sea Magik in his hands. Looking at the text brought a mix of feelings, amusement at the thought of anyone putting into print such nonsense, and at the same time, a feeling of.... Dread? Anxiousness? Curiosity? The feeling reminded him of when he was a child, and he would come across the body of a dead animal. He knew it was sad, he knew it was disgusting, but something kept prompting him to glance at the carcass. Either way, he decided to crack open the volume and flip through the pages, if only to pass the time until he could safely make a decision as to the rest of Greyhound Ones fate, and he was forced to either act or begin preparations for his new life in the attic.

[Vladd]

Peter grinned as the woman's punch missed him, This is almost fun he thought, Time to take her down. By now he had almost forgotten he was fighting a woman, any reservations about punching her had gone when she made his head ring with that punch, he threw another punch at the woman.

Spoiler:

Fighting the servant (punch): 1d100 48
Damage to servant: 1d3+1d4 5
Knocking out servant: 1d100 72

[aine]

Tobias flicks his eyes down the corridor to see where the brigadier has got to. And Tinker for that matter.

[Mr. Handy]

Donald swung his rifle right at the fish-woman's head, but she ducked at the last second. Peter's blow had staggered her, but she remained on her feet. She stepped back into the room from which she had emerged, slammed the door, and locked it.

Tobias saw that the Brigadier still had his hands full with the other woman, who squirmed in his grasp and tried to scream, though his hand covered her mouth effectively. Tinker was hanging back, fiddling with her sonic screwdriver absently.

In the attic, Gordon flipped through the book entitled Magick of the Sea. It would take hours just to give it a proper skim, but it had several hundred pages and seemed quite old. The text was old-fashioned, and at first glance it seemed rambling and disorganized. There was no index, nor even a table of contents. Actually reading the book all the way through and studying it would take quite a long time indeed.

[johnson41996]

Gordon shook his radio in frustration and resisted the urge to throw it across the room. "Useless piece of junk..." he muttered darkly to himself. Setting down the radio, Gordon glanced at the books and notes and felt an even greater frustration, this one driven by his curious nature. It thoroughly riled him that he had no time to satisfy his strange need to pour over the texts, even in his dire circumstances. The true value of his luck under scrutiny, he packed the untapped knowledge in his bag, and after double checking his weapons, pulled out his new toy and descended the stairs to find out what fate had in store for his poor soul.

OOC,So im unable to read the book right now? I hate to meta but I have a pretty good idea whats in that book and i friggin want it lol. The way events are unfolding I doubt im going to have another chance to read to read it before its probably confiscated from me... :(

[Vladd]

Peter turned to Tinker "Is that thing you're fiddling with any good with door locks?

[Mr. Handy]

"It's about as effective as a regular screwdriver," said Tinker, "but it works at a distance because it's sonic. I may have better luck removing the hinges than messing with the lock. Let me give it a try." She held out the screwdriver towards the door and pressed a stud on it, causing it to make an odd humming sound. One after another, she easily removed the hinges from the door, causing it to topple and fall in very little time. Beyond was a small, darkened bedroom. The window was open, and the servant woman was scrambling through it. She flopped down outside, disappearing from sight.

Gordon began to descend the stairs from the attic, soon reaching the landing on the floor below. A door led to the hallway from which he had emerged from the dumbwaiter, and the stairs continued down.

OOC,[b]Tinker[/b]'s Mechanical Repair roll (90% skill) to open the door. [dice]0[/dice] Servant's Climb roll (40% base skill) climbing through the window. [dice]1[/dice] It would take quite a long time to even skim this book, [b]Gordon[/b]. You could always hide the tome in your black doctor's bag and not tell anyone you found it, of course. :twisted:

[Vladd]

Peter ran to the window and looked out.

[Mr. Handy]

When Peter got to the window and looked out, he could see the woman running away to the right along the side of the house. She was heading towards the front steps of the mansion.

[Vladd]

Peter shrugged, "There goes our element of surprise,"