The wookies defeated, the lads get a few hours of rest...
You and your fighters relax again after the wookies are defeated. Someone rolls in a keg, and Schleppy rummages up a stack of plastic cups from one of his pockets. The Tenmen play till midnight, ending with a 20 minute version of something called "Surfin Bird." Pinching his mouth disapprovingly, Philimon laments the damaging influence of Terran religious music on Vanthian popular culture. He seems poised to launch into a lengthy diatribe when Abdul Nomascus silences him with a raised eyebrow.
As the show wears on the crowd begin to get frisky. Moods darken and fights break out in the crush of bodies near the stage. No doubt the kegs of dwarf grog and ale contribute to the delinquency of the brawlers. Thanks to your watches no one bugs you.
However, a few of your crew find trouble on their own. Wiggy Plop and a few others sneak off to watch the Tenmen up close, and not all of them make it back. One of the klengon deserters loses a headbutting contest with a rock gnome. The motor-mouthed Sugar Ray Rocketblaster yaps to the wrong chap and ends up eating his words, with a fistful of knuckles for an appetizer.
Muruzabal and the hobling Harmon Brewster polish off the keg in an all-night drinking contest. The mad amazon passes out during an ill-advised keg stand and is rolled off in the tarp by fast-moving goblin medics.
Happily, you draw new fighters to your ranks, and by morning your crew is 16 strong, not counting Creature, Buck and Zarko.
[Anyone who took damage heals 1-4 HP]
[Sorry to blow off last night guys. Hella busy day at work yesterday; needed to chill last night. Probably won't post much till evening -- feel free to chat amongst yourselves, talk to your crew, etc.]
Buck and Zarko are keeping their eyes peeled for any action that might be heading their way. "Wonder if I should just start something," Buck says looking for another fight to get him towards the end of this thing. "How's Creature holding up?" he asks Zarko...he also surveys some of our new crowd, taking stock of what sort of gang is on hand in case things heat up soon.
(I haven't read every post, did we ever hear anything about Darryl? I should be back on track for checking in at least once a day on weekdays.)
(we've discovered literally NIL on the Daryl situation...I'm pretty concerned about that as well).
On the other hand, we really don't have any reason to believe Daryl is in any trouble.
He wanted to fight, he fought. Then he got knocked out. Then they hauled him away, like they do with everyone.
My guess is, he's sitting up there with Mama, watching us and cringing every time we do something he disagrees with.
You may be right, Coffee, at least by all logical 'game appearances.'
Around dawn the goons are back. Under the whips of a team of drovers, they haul out a cart filled with tarnished robo-perc units, and roll empty kegs down the ramp. Bleary, bruised and grumpy fighter line up for coffee. No rolls are served.
[Dudes, sorry. Totally fell asleep on the couch after watching Wild Zero on the dvd last night.]
About how many contestants are left in the brawl?
[Maybe a hundred? Most of them look to be tough hombres. Yours is probably the largest crew -- but judging by appearances not necessarily the baddest.]
Buck checks out the new recruits, and finds them mostly a sorry lot. There's a pair of human twin brothers barely old enough to shave, a planetary ape with the mange and a red-faced, overweight vulkin. Buck can't figure how any of 'em made it through yesterday.
A bit more promising is a sneering ratling and a strapping lizard man shaman, both of whom are a bit banged up but eager for action. Rounding out the new meat are a lanky wooky in a coonskin cap and dusky-skinned human with a sly grin.
[You can give these guys names if you want to. More later, as time allows.]
[Anyone who took damage heals 1-4 HP]
[No need to make a separate post for it, but let me know how many HP you've healed next time you post.]
I think I only took one point, so I'll say that I rolled a 1. (If my ability to scan back through messages is impaired, and I actually took more than one point, please let me know...)
Unbidden, Bob the Fighter and One Eye Malone make a coffee run for the crew. The 'run' part turns out to be literal, as the two of them jog back to camp as quickly as they can laden down with 10 coffees each.
"Trouble coming!" calls out Bob, motioning over his head with a jerk of his head. "Three-motherf*c%ing-headed $h#t-damned giant," adds Malone.
Well, technically a giant. At first you don't see him at all. Then you realize that this particular giant is only seven feet tall. It's three-headed for sure, though, and it definitely looks P-Oed. It stomps deliberately across the arena, sweeping aside anyone foolish enough not to clear aside.
At the same time there's an alarm from the rear! A trio of elves in graduation gowns and mortar boards struts up to your perimeter. "Doctor Dropkick! Professor Pain! The Head-Masher!" Each in turn strips down to a speedo and wrestling boots. "Ass-kicking class is now in session!"