7.7.3 Subsection 19 (b)

An Agent shall not cause, intend to cause, or precipitate the causing of any member of the Public (as defined in 7.7.1 Subsection 2 (b)) to see, hear, smell, taste, touch, examine or otherwise obtain knowledge of the Paranormal (as defined in  7.1.1 Subsection 2 (c)), the Employer (unless such description is exempted under 7.7.3 Subsection 20 (a)) or subterfuge therein (as defined in 7.2.10 Subsection 3 (b) through 7.2.10 Subsection 3 (m)), or any Agents other than those on the Agent's team (as definied in 7.7.1 Subsection (s)), whether implied, explicit, direct, or indirect.

Terrel-Hoyte Enterprises Standard Employment Contract, page 937.

---

Saturday, March 13, 2010. Morning.

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Even after several months of paid vacation, last night you had a restless dream filled with bizarre imagery. In the light of day the details disappear, but you remember a tall, dark figure, a puddle of blood, and the feeling of being watched.

When you wake up, you notice that in the night someone has scrawled on the pad you keep next to your bed. You don't recognize the handwriting. The text says: Ram Abbalah! Can-tah Abbalah-doon.]

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Even after several months of paid vacation, last night you had a restless dream filled with bizarre imagery. In the light of day the details disappear, but you remember a tall, dark figure, a puddle of blood, and the feeling of being watched.

When you wake up, you notice that in the night someone has opened up a new Word document on your computer and typed a message. The document says: Ram Abbalah! Can-tah Abbalah-doon.]

[Private to Sean O'Leary: Even after several months of paid vacation, last night you had a restless dream filled with bizarre imagery. In the light of day the details disappear, but you remember a tall, dark figure, a puddle of blood, and the feeling of being watched.

When you wake up, you notice that in the night someone has scrawled on the pad you keep next to your bed. You don't recognize the handwriting. The text says: Ram Abbalah! Can-tah Abbalah-doon.]

Your cell phone rings.

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: It's John Burns: There's a new case for you. Just when you thought maybe the Company wouldn't need you anymore. Since the case takes place in DC, there's no need for you to come in to the office, and a representative on the ground will lay out the case for you. You are given an address to a conference room in the Mandarin Oriental hotel, which is just a few blocks away from the National Mall.]

[Private to Tobias Byrne: It's John Burns: There's a new case for you. Just when you thought maybe the Company wouldn't need you anymore. Since the case is of some urgency, there's no time for you to come in to the office. and a representative on the ground will lay out the case for you. You are given an address to a conference room in the Mandarin Oriental hotel, which is just a few blocks away from the National Mall.]

[Private to Sean O'Leary: It's John Burns, your contact within the Company: There's a new case for you; just when you thought maybe the Company wouldn't need you anymore. Since the case takes place in DC, there's no need for you to come in to the office, and a representative on the ground will lay out the case for you. You are given an address to a conference room in the Mandarin Oriental hotel, which is just a few blocks away from the National Mall.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:22, Tue 03 Jan 2012.

Tobias listened to the call groggily. It must be urgent if Burns was calling directly. With a muttered assurance that he'd be right there, he began getting his things ready to go once again.

Computer... Hmm. Control-S, then into the bag. His gun went with him into the bathroom while he showered, shaved, and cleaned two months of jobless living off of his body. As he assembled his usual kit from the various places they had migrated over the past few weeks, he closed the preacher's old spellbook and replaced it in his safe, along with the printed hard-copies of his own spells. Too dangerous to leave lying around, even if he wasn't going to be gone long.

Bag ready, gun and rod holstered and ready to go. He locked his door securely, then headed down to the parking deck and over to the hotel.

[Private to GM:
Knowledge:(Arcane Lore) You rolled 19 using 1d20+16 ((3)). What do those words mean?]

As soon as he had woken up, Frank had spotted a scrawled note on the pad he kept on his bedside table, next to the cordless phone. He had ripped the note from the top of the pad before Diane had a chance to see it and had tucked into his shirt pocket.

He had spent the rest of that morning recollecting the strange dream that had woken him, so when John Burns called with the details of a new case, it was in a way a relief that he'd get the chance to discuss these things that he couldn't discuss with anyone else with someone from the Company.

"I know the hotel, John," said Frank. "I'll be there within the hour."

Diane gave him a disappointed look, Frank's professional tone made it clear enough that it was a work call.

"Nothing for months," said Diane, frowning. "Then they call you up on a Saturday out of the blue? It isn't right."

"It was worse when I was with the Feds, remember?" said Frank, putting his arm around her. "Security's a short notice business. I doubt it'll take more than a few days, and then we'll head down to the coast, just the three of us."

He ran his hands through her blond hair, kissed her goodbye, and then picked up Brianna, his six year old daughter.

"We'll go for a beach holiday, that's a promise Bree."

"Promise promise?"

"Yeah, promise promise."

Minutes later he was on the highway, on his way to the hotel.

PM:

[Private to Tobias Byrne: First of all just to be clear, the case is taking place in DC. I don't know where you live, but all your travel arrangements are naturally taken care of. Frank and Sean (who you don't actually know you're meeting yet) both live in DC so they will meet you there.

Knowledge (Arcane Lore) (19): The words don't mean anything to you. If they are magical, they sound like something a total amateur would make up. If they are a Shadow language, it's not one you've ever encountered. It has the guttural quality that matches the language of some Dwarves you've met, but you don't think it's Dwarvish.]

Frank made it to the hotel in just over an hour. It would have been less time if he hadn't hit bad traffic as he drove into central Washington. He pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the Mandarin Oriental and parked up in one of the spare bays. The sign said that all-day parking was ten dollars, but Frank was certainly hoping this meeting wouldn't take that long.

A short walk later he entered the ground floor lobby of the hotel and crossed over the polished marble floor to the check-in desk. Stating that the hotel was luxury was an understatement; Frank didn't even want to guess how much a night in here would cost.

His linen shirt, stone-washed jeans and smart shoes were some of the best clothes he owned, but judging by the look of disdain the desk staff gave him, he was under-dressed for the Mandarin Oriental. He did own a suit, but it was a cheap one that he'd got when he was FBI that simply screamed 'law enforcement', so he seldom, if ever, wore that these days.

As the immaculately dressed gentleman in front of him took his room key and let the porter take his bags, Frank stepped up to the desk. The stern looking woman looked up at him, guessing correctly that he couldn't afford to stay here.

"Can I help you, sir?" she said, primly.

"Er, yeah," said Frank. "My company's booked a conference room here. Terryl-Hoyte Enterprises. My name's Frank Decourcey."

He shifted his weight while he waited for her to answer his queston. Something about places like this tended to make him uncomfortable. He supposed it had something to do with a life working amongst some of the scum of society, rich society with all its rules and judgement set him on edge.

[Private to GM: OOC: Frank is carrying concealed. Spot DCs for weapons as follows:

Five-seveN (in concealed carry holster - rear of waistband) DC 20
Small (+0), in Concealed Carry Holster (+4)

Sig-Sauer P245 (in concealed carry holster - ankle) DC 24
Tiny (+4), in Concealed Carry Holster (+4)]

Setting down the phone, Sean ran his fingers through his hair.  “Looks like vacation is over.” he muttered to the hotel room.  Reaching over to the hotel stationary, he tore off the top several sheets and made a fist, crumpling the papers into a ball.

Dropping the ball into his shoe, he padded to the room’s phone and dialed room service ordering breakfast for one: an egg white omelet, toast and orange juice and asked them to leave it in the hall.  That taken care of he quietly went to the other side of the bed to see if Veronica had woken up.  Seeing that she hadn’t, he walked into the bathroom and took a quick shower.

Emerging from the bathroom in a cloud of steam he quickly got dressed, putting on a grey linen suit, over a maroon silk shirt and a geometric tie.  Stepping into his shoes made him pause.  “Damn dreams” he thought to himself as he pocketed the crumbled papers.  He slid his wallet and badge from the nightstand and pocketed them without thinking.  Next, went the thin leather-bound notebook and pen.  Last went the weapons, knife in a pocket and pistols in holsters.

Seeing she was still out, he jotted a quick note on the hotel pad:

V-

Work.  Call me.

-S

Then he took the note and went to the door to retrieve breakfast.  Tucking a corner of the note under the still hot plate, he set the tray on the nightstand and left the room.

He exited the hotel and hailed a cab.  “Mandarin Oriental” was all he said to the driver.

OOC: For those of you traveling from the south, this is your view of the Mandarin Oriental across the Potomac as you cross the Francis Case Memorial Bridge.

The woman behind the desk is intrigued by Frank's informal attire, but, being the professional that it is, she does not let it show.

Ah, yes, Mr. Decourcey. She taps away at a keyboard. I have your reservation right here.

She looks over Frank's shoulder and notices Sean and Tobias, who have just entered. And you must be Misters O'Leary and Byrne. What good timing you have! The hotel is upscale enough that the woman knows not to do something so vulgar as asking to see your IDs. In a place like this, in a city like Washington DC, visitors expect that everyone know who they are at all times.

She hands you a key, and tells you that it will allow the elevator to go to the top floor, where your conference room is.

"Well that's handy." Tobias said, taking one of the offered keys.  He felt even more shabbily dressed than Frank did. His jeans were black, and he was wearing a polo shirt. His car, he swore, was being sneered at by the others in the parking deck as they spoke.

He had never seen so many Bugatti badges in the same place. "Frank," he nodded to the investigator, "How're the kids?" He looked at Sean, but didn't introduce himself. He hadn't met the man, and perhaps Frank had.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:29, Thu 06 May 2010.

Sean studies the two men in front of him eyeing their clothes, noting the interaction between them, then offers by way of introduction, "I'm a friend of John's."

Glancing at the keycard in Tobias' hand he says, "I believe we are expected upstairs."

Frank smiled broadly when he saw Tobias, shook his hand firmly and patted him on the back. He enjoyed Toby's company and sense of humour, and it had certainly lightened the sombre mood of their last Company excursion.

"Toby!" he exclaimed. "Just the one kid, but she's fine. Misses her Dad when he gets called away on a Saturday though."

He took his key-card, slipped it into the breast pocket on his shirt and turned around to greet Sean.

"Frank Decourcey," he said, shaking the man's hand. "Call me Frank though, please."

The conversation continued as they headed to the elevator, swiped their cards and stepped inside.

"Well, John's a pretty good judge of character, I've heard, so I'm sure any friend of his is a good person to have on the team. Got a first name, Mister O'Leary?"

"Good to hear it," Toby said, following Frank into the elevator. "Name's Tobias Byrne. Friends call me Toby." He said to Sean.

"First name's Sean." he said in reply to Frank's query.  After shaking the other man's hand he continues, "Nice to meet you both."

Shaking his head he mutters, "Nothing says good morning like a call from John."

"Especially on a Saturday," said Frank, laughing. "It's the job we were born to do. Been the same since I first hit the streets. Don't think my better half will ever get used to it though."

Even the inside of the elevator was lavishly decorated with luxury details.

"Nice of him to hold it in this place though. A chance to see how the other half lives, so to speak."

The top floor, like the elevator, the lobby, and even the parking lot, is the pinnacle of all things elegant and expensive. A small sign informs the honored representatives from Terryl-Hoyte Enterprises that their private conference room is down the hall and to the left.

The small but comfortable room is dominated by an ornate oak table surrounded by eight leather chairs, but even this is overshadowed by the north wall, which is made entirely of glass and looks out onto the National Mall.

Unfortunately, the gray weather ruins the normally breathtaking view. Underneath dark skies the center of the city expands before you. At the edges of your view you can see the Washington Monument disappearing into the low-lying clouds, like a kid trying to hide behind layers of translucent curtains. On a clear day you could probably see all the way to the White House.

On the table lay three identical black secure laptops, which contain your assignment. As you read through the content, any fears you may have had about the weather being an omen about the work to come are fully realized: this assignment was chosen by the ESP division, and these cases are always the worst.

What makes the ESP division crimes so horrific is that they haven't happened yet, and it's your job to make sure that they never happen. The ESP division is an arm of the company comprised of individuals especially gifted at manipulating the multiple universes; so gifted that they can actually view glimpses of alternate universes where the time scale is off from ours, essentially getting views of the future.

It's not a reliable power, however. Because of the infinite nature of the multiple universes, not every event happens in every universe, so there's no perfect way to predict how, when, and if a crime will occur. For cases in which there's an extremely high number of alternate realities which contain the crime, it's reasonably certain that that crime will happen on our plane of existence, and the Company tries to stop them before they happen. With so few details, however, they are often unsuccessful, and the agents are forced to witness a preventable crime unfold in front of their eyes.

And today's assignment is not one crime, but a crime spree, and one that's very likely. In 89% of observable future universes, a serial killer prowls the suburbs of Washington DC, kidnapping children. Their bodies are found three days later, dismembered, and often... missing pieces. Then one day later another child is found missing. In 77% of the universes where this serial killer reigns he disappears without a trace after the 4th killing, and in 20% a man is caught and tied to the crime and, though few believe him to be the real killer, the kidnappings stop. In the other 3%, the kidnappings continue for years; the consequences to the city are devastating beyond comprehension.

All is not doomed, however; the ESP division gets glimpses of how the cases were solved, even if they don't see clear glimpses of the evidence itself. Included in the files, along with hand-drawn pictures of gruesome crime scenes, is a list of possible leads:

• Frank's Hot Dog Shaque, in Knox Hill
• St. Elizabeths Hospital, north of Congress Heights [Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Last Christmas you got a card from St. Elizabeth's hospital. David Mathers, the only other survivor from "the incident" while you were working with the SCU, was transferred from St. Martha's to St. Elizabeths. You didn't know why, since you've been hearing reports for years about how run-down St. Elizabeths had been, and you thought at the time that they weren't even using it as a hospital anymore.]
• Mr. Monday, full name unknown, whereabouts unknown
• "Abmayid", relevance unknown

Also in the files is the name of the 4th victim: Henry Leyden, from Mount Pleasant. The first three victims don't seem to follow any pattern, but the fourth victim is almost always Henry.

Lastly is a date: March 15th. It's the date of the first kidnapping.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:12, Mon 10 May 2010.

Tobias whistled softly, paging through the given data. These were always problematic; an abundance of leads, with no certainty that any of it would happen for sure.

"I hate these," he said unnecessarily, "too many places to start. I'm most interested in Mr. Leyden; why him?" At this point, it was more musing than anything, but he was wondering his partners' thoughts on the data.

[Private to GM: Abmayid?
14:45, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 12 using 1d20+10. history.
14:45, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 21 using 1d20+16. Theology.
14:46, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 21 using 1d20+16. Arcane Lore.]

PM

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Linguist (24), Know (Arcane Lore) (21): You realize that the word is some sort of magic sigil. It literally translates as "protect", though it has a much deeper meaning that that. It's not a word you would use in conversation, as it's been "magicized", for lack of a better term. It's not unlike the Arabic equivalent of the Latin that Solomon spoke to cast his spells.

Additionally, you realize that it's not modern Arabic; it's in an ancient dialect, possibly Akkakian, a language first recorded 4500 years ago and last used 100 years after the death of Christ.]

Looking at the gruesome sketches of the discarded and dismembered bodies of children, Frank couldn't help but think of Brianna, his own daughter. He felt grief and rage welling up inside him on behalf of the parents who had been put through this in alternate realities, and knew that he would not forgive himself if they didn't prevent this from happening in this one.

"We have just two days to stop this from ever happening," he said, grimly. "We can't waste a moment."

"I think that's a good plan," he replied to Tobias. "If he's almost always the fourth victim, it makes sense the killer might have already had some sort of relationship or personal link to Henry Leyden."

He looked over the leads the guys in ESP had managed to compile for them. Only one stood out for him, but that was due to familiarity.

"This hospital, St Elizabeth's," he said, quietly. "I know it. A friend of mine was transferred there about a year ago. I could go there under the pretext of visiting him, see what I can find that might be linked to this case."

Looking up from his laptop, Sean raised a hand to forestall any further conversation.

"Before we plan any further ahead you should know I am not an investigator.  The FBI employs me as a Field Combat Specalist and Unarmed Combat Instructor.  I serve a similar function for the Company."

Looking between Frank and Tobias he continued, "Since you two know each other and presumably have worked together, I will assist you in anyway I can, deferring to your direction in an investigative capacity.  However, my status with the FBI is a double edged sword.  I would ask that you please refrain from committing any felonies that I will have to explain.  I am, at any time, happy to "leave the room" as it were.  When we are operating under the auspices of the FBI, please refer to yourselves as civilian consultants.  Please do not take offense.  I only want to explain my position to you both to prevent any misunderstandings.  Make no mistake, this is a serious matter and I will do whatever it takes to find this killer."

With that he folds his hands on the table and waits for an affirmation from the two men.

Tobias paused, looked up from his laptop, raised an eyebrow, looked at Frank, then looked back at Sean. "You're a consultant? That's new. So felonies you won't have to explain, those are good?"

"Don't worry Sean," replied Frank. "With the FBI backing us up, that should make things easier in a lot of ways. If I need to get rough, I'll make sure you don't have to witness it."

He pushed his chair back, stood up and walked to the north wall, placing a hand against the glass.

"The whole city is relying on us, even if they don't know it. The question is, where do we start?" he said. "I'm fine checking out St Elizabeth's alone. I'll look for anything out of place that might link to our case."

"That leaves you two free to look into Henry Leyden. With Sean's FBI credentials, and the right reason, you should be able to talk to Henry and his family directly. What do you think?"

Nodding toward Frank he said, "Sounds like a plan.  Let me get both your phone numbers before we split up?"

"Works for me." Tobias said. Turning to Sean, he added, "I've got his; you can get them from mine while we're en route."

"Let's get going."

Subthreads Created:

Chapter 2a: Tobias and Sean
Chapter 2b: Frank

Subthreads ended

Just as Tobias is giving the house one last look, his phone rings. He and Frank have, as usual, finished their investigations at the exact same time.

[Private to Tobias Byrne: You don't notice anything unusual about the house, though it does look like a stormfront is moving in which might turn the day's drizzle into an out and out downpour. As for magical auras, there's a moderate lingering aura in the empty seat next to you, but other than that, nada.]

Nice cover.

Tobias stared at the aura in his seat a moment (he had been dogged by these before) before heading for the rendezvous point. Once Frank appeared, he wasted no time. "The target is a kid, from a family that came over some time ago." He sighed, "They don't want help, even though the mom is... psychic, maybe? Clairvoyant?"

"What about you?"

"I went to see my friend in the hospital, David Mathers," said Frank. "His mind's cracked pretty badly, but he had these weird moments of clarity, like I was talking to two people. One crazy who knew everything, the other just like the old David but he couldn't access the information I needed. He even said as much."

"It's weird but I'm still getting used to the whole idea of Shadow, the understanding that there's more than we see on the surface. David told me that Mr Monday is the one behind these disappearances, the one targeting Henry. He takes the kids, takes them to a place that..."

He paused, trying to remember how David had phrased things.

"One foot in this world and one foot somewhere else. That's what he said. Sounds like some sort of bridge between the world of Shadow and our world. So maybe this Mr Monday someone who's crossed over? Makes my head hurt even to try and puzzle it out."

"Henry's the key to all this. David said that if he's killed, it's probably just a cooincidence that he's involved, but the kid always just disappears right? That means Mr Monday wants to use him for something. And that's exactly what we've got to stop."

"You've seen Henry. Any sign that he had some sort of power? Anything special about him that might indicate why Monday wants him?"

OOC: Let me know where you are driving. It's getting to be midday so you are fighting the lunch-time traffic. Despite the dismal weather, tourists are out en mass today.

"Nothing like that," Tobias answered, tossing the keys to Frank, "hell, of the three of them, he was by far the most normal."

"Did we get IDs on any of the other victims? Those might be a good place to start hunting for Mr. Monday."

Frank didn't like what Toby said about Henry being normal. If there something overtly 'off' about him, that might give them a clue to why Mr Monday wanted the boy, but just an everyday kid, maybe he was just an unfortunate victim of a serial killer and it was just coincidence that he was usually the fourth victim.

"I don't remember seeing any names," said Frank, sliding into the driver's side seat. "Just the date the first kid's supposed to get snatched; the 15th. That's Monday, Toby. Two days to solve this thing; not a lot of time, but it has to be enough."

He turned the key and the engine turned over and mumured into life.

"Why don't you call the office, see if ESP picked up on any probably victims?" he asked. "I reckon we drive over to Knox Hill, check out this place, Frank's Hot Dog Shaque. There's a weird element to all this, I won't deny it, but if it was a standard crime that's where I'd start looking. If it's popular with the local kids, it's a fairly likely place to pick out victims... What do you think?"

Frank started to pull out of the parking space when he suddenly slammed the brakes.

"I've just remembered something David said!" he shouted. "He said that Henry was like him. At the time I didn't pick up on it, but now I think I know what he was saying. What if Henry has a split personality, and Mr Monday is after the other one, the one you didn't see? Maybe Henry, the Henry you saw that is, is just a victim of circumstance. Maybe..."

He trailed off as he grew aware of how crazy he was sounding. David had got under his skin more than he would have liked to admit.

"Sounds good." Toby pulled his cell and was in mid dial when Frank had his idea. He stared at his partner for a few moments, trying to decide how to phrase what was going through his head right now. "Frank," he finally said, sliding shut his phone, "this is an ESP case; everything about it is crazy."

"And the idea does have some merit; if he's a split personality, or has latent abilities like his mother... there could very well be a reason for him to be taken."

"If you want, we could go see him again." He put the cell down for a moment and pulled his laptop. "But first the hot dog place; I needed lunch anyway."

He brought up the internet as he dialed headquarters to get an update on any pertinent information.

[Private to GM: On a lark, I'm also running a search for a Mr. Monday in the area. Channeling the almighty powers of the internet to find information for me.

11:34, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 27 using 1d20+16. Research check.
]

While Frank has a nice quick trip along Alabama Avenue, Tobias has a longer trek through the heart of downtown DC. Unfortunately for the both of them, the "Hot Dog Shaque" is not the fine dining experience they may have been expecting. In fact, it no longer serves food at all.

Set deep in the heart of Knox Hill, a neighborhood named after the massive public housing project which dominates it, the Shaque, in the best of times, was lucky to serve food just good enough to not make you sick. Nowadays, though, it is a mess of rubble and charred wood; it seems a kitchen fire a few months ago finally put the place out of its misery. The windows are busted, the roof has gaping holes, the booths and benches are melted, and the entire place still smells faintly of smoke. Frayed crime scene tape is tied to the door sill but flutters in the wind, no longer keeping the scene secure from intruders.

---

A call to the headquarters reveals that there is some commonality between earlier victims, but Henry is probably the only significant victim. The overlap gets more significant as the number of killings continue, almost as if they are narrowing their search for Henry. The first victim is the same in only 3% of universes, the second victim is the same in 20% of universes, the third victim is the same in 56% of universes, and the fourth victim is Henry in 98% of all observable universes. The names and information of all of these victims is available if you wish to pursue these leads.

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Your search for a "Mr. Monday" reveals very little, and conspicuously so. Usually your searches are able to pick up at least something, but in this case it appears that Mr. Monday doesn't exist, is an unconnected alias, or is very, very good at covering his tracks. You may be able to make this research check again if you learn more information or if you can come at it from a different angle.]

From somewhere within the building, you hear the crunch of pacing footfalls on rubble. The stride is short, quick, and multi-footed, as of an animal. You can also hear a quick panting sound.

11:28, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Sean O'Leary, rolled 30 using 1d20+11. listen.
11:27, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 31 using 1d20+11. listen.

"Well that's unhelpful." Tobias muttered to Frank as he closed off the laptop. "Someone did a thorough, but amerteurish, job of hiding Mr. Monday. There's nothing, and I mean nothing. Though that there's nothing is something..."

He was cut off as he heard the footsteps in the ruined building. "I'll take the back?" He whispered.

Frank nodded in response to Toby's explanation about what he had found. He had trouble following it, but he agreed that if the scene had been cleaned thoroughly, that was suspicious in itself.

He didn't have long to think it over though, as the next moment he caught the sound of movement from somewhere inside the ruined building. His muscles tensed and he drew his sidearm. He gave Toby the thumbs up and moved towards the front of the building.

OOC: 10:49, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 26 using 1d20+7. Move silently.

As Frank and Tobias set up to storm the building, the pacing sound does not seem to change. On a silent but well-coordinated queue, Frank kicks open the front door while Tobias opens the back. Each door opens either end of a long hall, and the two can see each other through the ruined building. Standing in front of the shabby unisex restroom, about ten feet away from Tobias, stands a lean pit bull. When Tobias opens the door he turns and crouches, hair standing on end. He begins to growl menacingly.

Rough map:

.  ______=_____
.  |    =T=    |  = -- Door
.  |    | | B  |  A -- Kitchen (Swinging door, mostly burnt out)
.  | A  | |____|  B -- Cold Storage (Steel Door, in tact and closed)
.  |    |D= C  |  C -- Unisex Bathroom (Wooden door, in tact and a few inches ajar)
.  |____| |____|  D -- Dog (in tact)
.  |           |  E -- Dining area, treat as rubble (1/2 movement)
.  |     E     |  F -- Frank (Front door is boarded-over glass)
.  |           |  T -- Tobias (Rear door is metal security door, in tact)
.  |     F     |
.  |_____ _____|
.        =

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Wisdom (3): Fail.

16:09, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 3 using 1d20+1. Wisdom Check.]

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Wisdom (16): After listening to the pacing and panting for a few seconds, you realize it is almost too regular, as if on a loop. When the dog starts growling, it, too, sounds off.

16:09, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 16 using 1d20. Wisdom Check.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:34, Thu 25 June 2015.

Tobias had his gun drawn, but was reluctant to pull the trigger. Whatever it was doing, it wasn't attacking him. Yet. He always did like dogs...

[Private to GM: Yay Wisdom! Or, er, lack thereof.]

Frank stopped moving forward into the room and paused. Something wasn't right here. He held his hand up, palm outwards to indicate Toby should do the same. With his gun in his right hand and pointed at the dog, he reached into his pocket with his left and retrieved his cellphone.

He quickly tapped out an SMS to Toby.

Listen to the dog. Listen carefully. Something off here. Cover me.

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he waited for Toby to read his message, and then moved forward cautiously, listening carefully and watching for any sign of trouble besides the dog.

OOC: Asking Toby to ready an action to shoot the dog if it attacks. Moving towards the dog, picking the easiest way through the rubble. Watching and listening for any other signs of movement or danger.

Toby raised an eyebrow as he watched Frank tap out an SMS, but nodded once he had read it. He didn't quite know what it was Frank was doing, but he figured it would be something clever.

The dog starts to bark ferociously at Tobias, but still does not budge from its position. As Frank creeps through the rubble he doesn't notice any hidden danger, and despite the noisy rubble, the canine does not seem to notice him.

He manages to get within 10 feet before the dog turns and starts to growl, now ignoring Tobias.

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Wisdom (19): Hey look at that! Frank got you to pay attention :) You notice that the dog's growling and barking is very regular. Almost too regular, in fact, as if it were on a well-spliced loop.

20:56, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 19 using 1d20+3. Wisdom Check (with SMS bonus).]

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Move Silently (13)

21:02, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 13 using 1d20+6. Move Silently. ]

Frank continued to approach the dog taking slow measured steps. He kept his gun trained on it the whole time, ready to put the pooch down if it made a move to attack him.

OOC: Readied action to shoot dog, if it as much as looks at me sideways. :)

Tobias frowned, looking at the dog. Frank was right; something was off. Keeping his gun trained on the dog, he waited for it to do what any dog would normally do, and either attack or retreat.

See Frank's readied action. Same.

Standoff.

Tobias and Frank surround the dog, inching forward ever so slowly without making any sudden or threatening moves. The dog does not budge from his position save to turn one way or the other to growl at whichever intruder moved last.

Something about the dog's growl grates on their brains. Tobias and Frank feel as if they just can't quite remember something, but that if they only try a little harder they will get it.

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Will (16): Fail. Guess you are not very wise today :) You have no ill effects... that you know of!!!

18:12, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 16 using 1d20+7. Will Save (with bonus).]

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Will (25): Success! Finally the thought resolves itself in your mind, and the thought is: This Dog Does Not Exist. Suddenly the dog simply disappears from sight and sound, as if it were never there in the first place.

Tobias doesn't seem to have had the same realization, however, as he is still acting like there's a menacing beast among you.

Spot (20): Success! When the dog disappears you notice, amongst the rubble, a small piece of black plastic. It is featureless other than the fact that, unlike everything else in the Shaque, it is completely free of soot and dirt.

18:11, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 25 using 1d20+8. Will Save (with bonus).
18:16, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 20 using 1d20+11. Spot check. ]

Tobias sighed. "This is getting annoying. I'm tempted to just shoot it."

"Toby," said Frank, calmly. "This dog does not exist."

He slipped his gun back into its holster and carefully approached the object on the floor, still wary of any other traps. He kept careful watch for anything suspicious, whether mundane or supernatural.

Tobias stares at the dog again for a second then suddenly feels very stupid.

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Will (22): Success! Finally the thought resolves itself in your mind, and the thought is: This Dog Does Not Exist. Suddenly the dog simply disappears from sight and sound, as if it were never there in the first place.

Spot (22): Success! When the dog disappears you notice, amongst the rubble, a small piece of black plastic. It is featureless other than the fact that, unlike everything else in the Shaque, it is completely free of soot and dirt.


21:18, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 22 using 1d20+9. Will Save (with EXTRA bonus).
21:19, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 22 using 1d20+6. Spot check. ]

Tobias exhaled slowly. Half-tempted to shoot where the dog was anyway, he growled, "I feel like a doofus."

He kneelt near the front of the door, muttered a sharp set of syllables, and began looking about. "Go see what he was guarding?" He suggested. "I'll see what made that... thing.

[Private to GM:
Only picking it up if I don't find something. Casting Detect Magic on the area, checking the door, followed by the plastic.]

PM

[Private to Tobias Byrne: You don't detect any magical auras... per se. You sense Conjuration (Teleportation) aura coming from behind the door, which is strong and holding steady. The small piece of plastic has a faint and quickly fading Illusion aura coming from it. Only... both of the auras are distinctly technological in nature, and entirely unmagical. It is not unlike the aura that comes from your Rod of Technology.

The plastic piece itself is about the size and shape of a poker chip. It is totally featureless on all sides, though on the edge you can see that the two faces were manufactured separately then sealed together.]

"Hold up." Tobias held up a poker-chip-sized piece of plastic. "This was our culprit for the dog, and there's some sort of teleportation effect behind the door. Be careful."

After Toby had warned him, Frank approached the door he'd indicated and then pushed his back up to the wall next to it, just as he'd been trained to when handling a situation where a probably armed suspect was holed up inside a room.

Gesturing for Toby to get against the wall on the other side of the doorframe from where Frank was positioned, Frank used his gun to try and nudge the door open, careful not to push his hand past the level of the doorframe.

Frank nudges the door which slowly creeeeeeeeaks open. His heart skips a beat when he sees a figure standing about 20 feet beyond the doorway aiming a weapon at him, then he quickly realizes he is just seeing his own reflection in a grimy mirror. The room used to be the unisex bathroom, however most of it was lost in the fire or the vandalism afterwards. The sink has been torn off the wall, and the toilet and urinal look like they have been attacked with a sledgehammer. Oddly, while the stall is missing, the door and frame are still in tact; in fact, the door is closed and appears largely free of soot and graffiti.

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Your Detect Magical Aura spell indicates that the technological conjuration energy is coming from the stall door.]

"That... is a portal-potty." Tobias said, stepping into the room. He examined the door closely, looking for any sort of writing or markings which could indicate where it would go.

Unless you take literally the banishments to hell of one rival gang to another, there are no indications of what lies on the other side of the door.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:37, Mon 06 Feb 2012.

Frank smiled wryly at Tobias' comment. He was still having to get used to the idea that magic was real, and the idea that a simple toilet stall door could be a portal to another dimension was not a pleasant one. If anyone who knew magic could turn any mundane doorway into a portal, it begged the question how could someone guard against that. The implications were terrifying.

"So, what now?" asked Frank, slipping his weapon back into the holster now that the physical threat was no more. "I take it we can't tell where it goes? What if we opened it; could we see through?"

Tobias kept his gun drawn, pointed down, but in the direction of the stall door. You never know what might fly through one of those. "I can't from here. We could open it, but I've got no idea how this one's set up. I'd suggest a stick or pole, myself."

"Agreed," said Frank. "I don't want that damn thing taking my hand..."

He searched the debris in the room to try and find a stick or pole that he could use to open the door without touching it or passing any part of his body through the threshold.

OOC: 14:28, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 5 using 1d20. Search for a stick.

10 once I stop rushing and actually take a bit of time to look!

Frank easily finds a long section of pipe protruding from the wall. He steps off to the side of the door, and uses the pipe to slide the lock to the left, then gently pushes the door outwards. When it opens, you see a long, perfectly white hall, lit by florescent lights. Along each side of the hall and at the other end are plain, white doors, each one displaying a small metal label. The floor is a perfectly clean vinyl tile flooring.

"Well then." Tobias looked down the hallway, "I wish that I could do that."
Hefting a peice of smallish rubble, he tossed it down the hallway. Assuming nothing came lurching out to destroy it, he turned to look at Frank. "Worst that can happen is that we can't get back. I don't think that's particularly likely, though. Whoever designed this has to have made a way to get out."

The debris skitters down the hallway. No monsters come out to investigate.

"That's a pretty bad possiblity," said Frank, shaking his head. "We need someone who can pull us back from this side. Call the office, let them know where we are and where we're going. At least that way we won't just disappear without a trace. I'd do it, but I don't think I can describe this portal properly."

"Got it." Tobias holstered his gun and stepped back. He pulled his phone and dialed quickly. "Yes, hello. Agent Tobias Byrne, I need to speak to someone about a mission-relevant impasse..."

Once he got the appropriate person on the line, he explained the situation and the portal, as well as their concerns about not getting back.

Frank was tense as he looked down the corridor, the sounds of technobabble a dull murmur in the background. David's words had surfaced in his mind again;

"He's in the white house, black house, white house, black house, white house, black house..."

Well, the corridor was certainly white. It almost put Frank in mind of the long white hallways of St Elizabeths Hospital. For some hard to place reason, that wasn't a comforting thought. He brushed his hand over the grip of his gun, finding something reassuring in the action.

When Toby had finished his call, Frank spoke to him.

"Well, this is it, I guess," he said, nervously. "I don't see that we have a choice. I think I should go first. If this door is trapped and seals shut, you might have a better chance of opening it again from this side, if not, you come through straight afterwards. What do you think?"

Tobias slipped the phone back into his pocket, and shrugged. "Sounds as good a plan to me as any."

"After you."

Frank steps through the door, braces himself and... nothing happens. After he takes a few more steps down the hall with no ill omens, Tobias follows. They walk down the hallway, reading the metal tags on the doors. There are three doors on the right and left sides of the hallway, spread apart at a distance of 20 feet between each door, and one door at the end of the hallway. Most of the doors' metal tags bear text which seems to swim before your eyes, never quite forming full words. The middle door on the right hand side and the door at the end of the hall, however, do finally reveal their destinations: in elegant engraved script, one door says "East Wing", and one says "West Wing". None of the doorways in the hall seem to have any visible locks, warning mechanisms, or any other system to stop you from entering.

After checking out the hallway, Frank turned around and walked back towards the way they had entered, wondering if they would be able to see back through the portal to the Hot Dog Shaq's unisex bathroom.

He moved close to the first door on the left hand side and pressed his ear up close to listen for any sounds on the other side.

[Private to GM:
22:43, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 31 using 1d20+11. Listen Check. ]

When you turn around you can still see into the dilapidated bathroom, just as if you had gone through a normal door.

The hallway is silent (save the florescent hum coming from the overhead lights), and pressing your ear against the door yields nothing but silence.

"Split up?" Tobias asked halfheartedly. He didn't want to, but on the other hand he didn't really want to be in the pocket dimension longer than he needed to.

"Not a chance, Toby," said Frank, shaking his head. "If I'm wandering around this place, I don't want to do it alone. Let's take one side of this corridor each, search the rooms and see what we find. When we're done here, well then we might be forced to split up..."

He could understand Tobias' reasoning; split up and cover more ground, but they knew so little about this place and the dangers it held, sticking together might be their only chance for survival as they ventured further in. While they could search and stay together, Frank wanted to do it.

He drew his weapon and pushed the handle on the door he had just listened at. As long as he found no resistance, he would push it open slowly, ready to shoot anything dangerous.

OOC: Well, hopefully the simply act of opening a door isn't going to get me killed. Think my weekly tabletop Call of Cthulu game is making me paranoid generally!

I'm not readying any action, given that the last enemy encounter was just an illusion.

Frank opens the door, and upon witnessing what lies beyond, lets out a blood-curdling scream, then drops to the floor, dead.

Well... not our Frank. The Frank in this universe opens the door to find nothing but blackness, and not the kind that causes instant death. Beyond the door lies nothingness taken physical form, and infinite void bereft of sight, sound, and possibly time itself.


OOC: Sorry, couldn't help myself with that first bit. :) But seriously, don't step through the door.

"Cool." Tobias gazed into the void, waiting for it to stare back. "I've always wanted to see Nothing."

Tired of waiting for the staring match to commence, he chose another door, waited for Frank, then opened it cautiously.

Tobias opens the first door on the right-hand side, which reveals the same void as Frank's door. Frank continues on to the next door on the left-hand side and finds, for a third time, more nothingness. Tobias follows suit, opening the door titled "East Wing". Unlike the last three doors, this one opens to reveal a long hallway. Unlike the hallway in which Tobias and Frank are standing, this one is dingy and dust-covered, and the lights are all off. A set of wooden double-doors stand closed at the end of the hallway, and a half-dozen doors stand on each side of the hallway, some open and some closed. The side doors all have a 1x1ft barred glass window and a small slot, like a door for isolated confinement in a prison.

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: You realize that this is not a prison, but a mental hospital... in fact, this hallway looks suspiciously like one of the unused wings of St Elizabeths Hospital.]

I don't know if you are visual people like I am, but here's a map of your progress so far:
   --X--
   |   |                         X = Closed door (XX is double door)
   X   X                         V = Void door
   |   |--X--X--X--X--X--X---    O = Opened door
   V   O                    XX
   |   |--X--X--X--X--X--X---
   V   V
   |   |
   --O--
  Bathroom

Once Toby had moved to the next door, Frank closed the one he'd opened. When the door to the corridor opened, Frank turned to speak to Toby.

"Wait, I recognise this place," he said. "This is our world, or at least a version of it; I think that's how this works, right?"

He closed the door to the corridor for a moment while they conversed, not wanting to risk being overheard or detected.

"I think this is part of St Elizabeths Hospital, the place where I spoke to David Mathers. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but we need to be careful."


OOC: I did ask for that with my CoC paranoia. LMAO at Toby's last post...

"Well, not always," Toby replied automatically, slipping into the tone of someone who is about to recite something very interesting to him and perhaps two other people on the planet, "this could be a place-to-place teleportation, alternatively, we could be in a pocket dimension or a... Wait, St. Elizabeth's?"

He paused for a moment, then pulled out his smartphone. "Let me see something..." Toby started tapping the screen, searching for both reception and a GPS location. The latter would tell them quickly whether the hallway itself was in the real world.

You get no signal (GPS or cell) in the main hallway.

"Good idea Toby. Mind you, if this is an alternate dimension, how do we know they don't have GPS satellites too?"

Frank taps the doorframe of the door leading onto the hallway that looks like St Elziabeths.

"Could this be another portal?" he said. "Try that gadget on the other side of this door."

"I imagine they wouldn't interface." Toby replied, stepping into St. Elizabeth's to try his reception. While he was at it, he looked on the other side of the door to see where the portal connected up.

After a few seconds of "Searching for signal...", Tobias's phone reconnects.

The back side of the door (or front side, depending on your space-time frame of reference) is steel with flaking paint and no window. It has a large sign that says "Not An Exit" and another that says "No Entry". The door handle looks like it can be locked with a key.

"Hmm." Toby slipped the phone back into his pocket and stepped back into the whitewashed hallway. "It looks like some sort of maintenance door. Definitely not a patient's room, and not an emergency exit. It's one people might not notice, yet wouldn't look twice at someone going into or out of."

"Clever bastard, whoever built this."

He peered at Toby's phone and noticed that it had signal again.

"Maybe this 'Mr Monday' person did," replied Frank. "The how's clever, sure, but the why of it all has got me puzzled. Why link the abandoned wing of a mental hospital with a derelict food joint? I think we need to look around these corridors some more before it'll start to make sense. Maybe the Shaq's an escape route?"

"Maybe we should look around this place some more before we cross back into our world? What do you think?"

"Yes, forward on the foe." Tobias said, slipping the phone in his pocket. "Let's go, let's go." He went for the next door and creaked it open.

The remaining doors on the left and right sides of the hallway lead to the void as well, but the door at the end of the hall, however, does not.

When you open the door marked "West Wing", you see another hallway, this one darkly lit. Your door comes out at about the center point, and the black walls and dingy black carpet extend out 15' in either direction. To the right you see a small side door and then the hallway takes a corner. To the right is another side door, this one glass, through which you can catch a scant glimpse of gloomy skies which cast an eerie glow on jet black colonnades which extend outward past your field of view.

The hallway is lined with gruesome pictures of what appear to be kings or rulers of some kind. They all seem to be sitting on the same throne; it is perfectly white, but dotted with black highlights (or lowlights, if you will) almost dark enough to rival the Void. Each figure is dressed in a strange manner and has a look on his face more evil than the last.

This room seems distinctly different from your current trans- (or perhaps inter-, multi- or non-) dimensional current position. However, were you to stick your hand past the door frame, you would find that neither your cell phone nor GPS have signal.

"Well Dorothy," said Frank, giving Toby a wry smile. "I think we can firmly say we're not in Kansas anymore."

It was an uncharacteristic sort of comment from Frank, but he was having trouble with the idea of interconnected alternate dimensions, and that had put him in a strange sort of mood.

As he looked at the black carpeted hallway, with its black walls and pictures of evil looking rulers, he found himself speaking David's words out loud.

"He's in the White House/Black House..." he said in a quiet voice. "Mr Monday lives in the White House/Black House"

The sight of collonades came pretty close to confirming the direction his thoughts had taken; that they were standing in a doorway that led into an alternate version of Washington DC, to be more precise, the seat of power of their president or king, or tyrant; the Black House, a mirror opposite of the White House.

He explained his thoughts to Toby, referring back to what David had said to him.

"So, if David's right about this, then Henry is going to end up here. If Mr Monday lives here, that would make him their president, or whatever, right?"

"Or secret service, or staff and cooks." Tobias added, realizing a moment later the stupidity of his statement. He looked into the corridor again, also hesitant to step out into the hallway. "If he's really the perpetrator, this... portal, might very well be the only way in and out." He half-pulled a worn scroll of paper from a pocket. "I might be able to just break the bridge."

"Break the bridge?" queried Frank. "Just like that?"

He looked at the doorway that led to the 'Black House', if his hunch was right. Then he looked back at the corridor they'd ventured down to get to this door, at the doors that contained nothing but darkness and the only one that led back towards their world for sure.

"I doubt there's only one way out and destroying this guy's handiwork is likely to make us both targets. That said, even if all you achieve is to buy those kids a little more time, it's worth it. Besides, I'm tired of trying to find this creep, maybe this will bring him to us. Do it Toby."

"Maybe." Tobias stressed. "If it breaks whatever physical anchors are holding this portal in place, it should do it. Like if I had broken the poker chip with the illusionary dog, that would have broken the illusion also.

No guarantees." He pulled the scroll completely out of his pocket and unrolled it, scanning the text quickly. "uh, we may want to back up."

Once they were at least twenty feet from the target doorway and close to a door that would lead them into their reality, he completed the scroll, sending a bead-size ball of white-hot fire streaking towards the door, which erupted in a oddly silent whoof.

[Private to GM: No clue how many dice this one does. I'll let you figure it out. ;)]

The powerful magics contained in the scroll would usually be too difficult for Tobias to control, but the long-lost magician who created it simplified it and Tobias, with his considerable knowledge in the ancient arts, easily completes the spell.

The huge ball of fire explodes, centered squarely on the doorway. Unfortunately for Tobias, however, this particular ancient magic is no comparison to the wonders of modern (or perhaps futuristic) technology. While the paint is completely burnt off and the metal underneath is badly singed and even melted in some places, it remains largely in tact.

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Fireball is a 3rd level spell, so you had to make a caster level check DC 6, which of course you easily passed. The scroll was made by a 5th level caster so it deals 5d6 damage. The door is aluminum, so the damage wasn't enough to overcome its hardness and hitpoints.

20:49, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 8 using 1d20+4. caster level check (DC=6).
20:52, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 21 using 5d6. fireball damage.]

Frank had raised his arm in front of his face to protect himself from any shrapnel thrown by an exploding doorway, and when the fireball had dissipated, he lowered his arm to look at the results.

"Well," he said, with a perfectly deadpan expression. "That was an anti-climax."

He drew his gun, just in case the explosion had attracted hostile attention.

"So, two choices, as I see it," said Frank, not quite sure which doorway to focus his attention on, so trying to stay aware of all of them. "We check out the west wing, or we leave. Which is it going to be?"

Tobias stared at the door as if it weren't there. It couldn't be there. It shouldn't be there. "Well damn it." Tobias muttered under his breath.

Frank startled him out of his reflection. "Oh. Er, we could, I suppose." It was clear that he wasn't fond of the idea, but nevertheless, it would probably at least net them something in this tangled, strange case.

He drew his own gun and moved to cover the hallway.

After 30 seconds... then a full minute... nothing emerges from the door. When you open the door, nothing greets you on the other side but silence, and a distant rumble of thunder. The scorch marks from the fireball continue into the door frame but stop exactly half way, as if the portal didn't allow the flames to pass.

"Looks clear," said Frank, moving towards the open doorway, gun drawn. "Cover me, I'm going through."

Keeping his ears open and eyes peeled for the slightest indication of danger, Frank steps through the doorway into the black hallway. As he steps through he sweeps his gun to check both directions the hallway extends, to his left and right, ready to fire upon any threat that presents itself.

OOC: Readying an action to shoot anything hostile in the hallway.

Toby had not had very much CIA weapons training, being an analyst, but had gotten the basics of 'cover and move.' He was ready to shoot anything that popped out at Frank and, once he had found somewhere to cover, moved into the hallway himself.

Once through, he spared a quick glance behind him, so he knew what the door they were looking for would look like once they found an exit.

You cover both flanks, but all is still and quiet. The hallway is dim, but lit by greasy flames emerging from sconces every 10 feet. Through the glass at either end of the hallway, you can start to get an idea of the size of the building; to the east you can just see a decrepit garden bordered by sinister twisting plants with blood red flowers, and beyond that is a central building.

Towards the east you can see the entrance to this wing of the building. The view beyond that is obscured by a thicket of dead, twisted trees. From your vantage point, you get very little more information about the inside of the building.

The door you came out of appears to be built into the wall to appear to not be a door at all. A small piece of the wood paneling which runs down the wall at waist height is turned perpendicular to the floor; this is apparently the handle to activate the hidden door.

                               More Building                     |
             +------x----x-+----w---w---w---w---w---w---w---w----+          |
   Entrance  G     F T     G         Black Brick Pathway         {          | Central
     <--     |             G                                     {          | Building
             |  +----------+  o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o  +-----{{{--+
             |  |             _________________________________  |          |
        -w-+-+  |                         Garden              |  |          |
                                                              |  |          |
              G = Glass Doors                                    |          +-
              x = Door
              o = Obsidian palisade
              w = Window
              { = Wrought-iron fence

Since even before they entered the portal, Frank had been fearful of the possiblity of getting trapped in this dimension. With this in mind, he thought it was worth checking over the mechanism of the secret door to make sure they could get it opened again from this side once it was closed.

He pulled up his multitool, opening up the knife attachment. He used the knife to scrape a small scratch on the side of the opened panelled that would be showing to the hallway once it was closed, so that they could find it again in a hurry if they had to.

"Can you check this door over," he asked Toby, since mechanics wasn't one of his talents. "Make sure we can get it open again from this side if it closes?"

"Yeah, give me a moment." Tobias moved back towards the door, mumbling latin-esque gibberish and looking over the door.
[Private to GM:
I'm not sure which spell I should use for this, but I think I have something for this.]

PM [Private to Tobias Byrne: Ummm... Even though it's not in a strict reading of the spell, I guess you could use hold portal to hold the door in the open position. Or you could use prestidigitation to create debris to fit inside the latch, keeping it from closing all the way (at least until it disappears in 1 hour). Otherwise you will just have to try more mechanical means.]

[Private to GM: Right, let's go with the Hold Portal (something I hope to be doing come April).]

"Right." Tobias said, "that should do it. Normally, that's supposed to hold a door closed, but the reversal seems to be doing what it's supposed to."

He still didn't look confident when he added, "let's not linger."

Frank smiled and slipped the multitool back into his pocket.

"Great job, Toby," he said. "You ever visited the White House?"

It was clear that he was still working the idea that this was the Black House, existing in some sort of nightmarish alternate dimension. It had been several years since he had visited the White House with Diane and Bree, when she'd still been a baby.

[Private to GM: OOC: I figured it makes sense for Frank to have visited the White House, living in Washington and being a patriotic sort of guy. The question is, how much does he remember about it?

Is what we can see enough to recognise the building as an alternate version of the White House and pin-point our location in it?]

"No, never." Toby replied with a shrug. "I won't be much use in this case, I'm afraid." He gestured for Frank to lead on, then added, "when did you get a chance to go?"

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: You can't tell if it definitely is another version of the White House — let's face it, they don't give all-exclusive tours — however, what you see certainly could fit the description of Black House.]

OOC: Frank can use a Knowledge (Current Events) check to attempt to find a specific room (if you have a destination in mind). Tobias can use Knowledge (History). You can choose to have one person roll a primary check and the other use Aid Another, or you can both roll independent checks. Alternatively, if you just want to wander, you can keep following the map. Even though you loooove doing it, I'd strongly advise you not to split up :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:36, Mon 17 Jan 2011.

"A few years back, when we'd first moved down to DC," replied Frank, trying to fathom where they were in the building, if he was right and it was an alternate dimension version of the White House. "That was before I got involved in all of this."

Frank felt a slight pang of regret when he remembered having a normal, or at least relatively normal life. That the world had its fair share of evil people who did horrific things was something he had learned to live with. That there were countless other worlds, all with their own versions of the evil people, all doing other horrific things was something he was still struggling to come to terms with.

"If I'm right about this place," said Frank. "There's only one place we should be trying to get to; the Oval Office."

OOC: Roll to determine the right way to the Oval Office, presuming Frank remembers enough of his tour to navigate there.
01:17, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 13 using 1d20+6. Current Events check.

"Oh, so it wasn't a meeting with the president or anything." Toby said, a little disappointed. "That would have been cool."

Toby began trying to recall anything he had learned about the White House. Almost unbidden, he began whistling 'Hail to the Chief.'

10:10, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 17 using 1d20+10.

Frank laughed and shook his head.

"A meeting with the president?" he said. "Sadly not. I think you might have mistaken me for another Frank Decourcey. The most exciting thing about me is that I work for a secret organisation that battles against the things that most people don't even know exist."

He frowned and rubbed his hand against his temple as he had a sudden thought.

"This is an alternate version of our world, right? Well, doesn't that mean that somewhere out there, there's an alternate version of us? Or maybe here I'm still working for the FBI or whatever, and you're still doing... whatever it was you were doing before you joined the Company. Hurts to even think about it."

Frank and Tobias don't know the whole way to the Oval Office, but they are oriented enough to know the general direction. They head around the corner to the south. The new hallway has the same drab, shabby interior, and is riddled with doors and hallways branching off from either side.

                               More Building                     |
             +------x----x-+----w---w---w---w---w---w---w---w----+          |
   Entrance  G             G         Black Brick Pathway         {          | Central
     <--     |             G                                     {          | Building
             |  +----------+  o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o  +-----{{{--+
             |  |          |  _________________________________  |          |
       --w-+-+FTx          |  |           Garden              |  |          |
           |    |             |                               |  |          |
           x    |                  G = Glass Doors               |          +-
           |    |                  x = Door
    -------+  |S|                  o = Obsidian colonnade
              |S|                  w = Window
    -------+  |S|                  { = Wrought-iron fence
           |  +-+                  S = Stairs (down)
           |    |
    -------+    x
                |
    -------+    +----
           |
           |    +----
           +-  -+
          /      \
         x       /
        /       x
        \      /
         +----+

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Listen (31): Just after you turn the corner, you hear a noise from the room to your left (east). It sounded like a clatter of small things onto a wooden table. After the noise, the entire building remains silent.

13:10, Today: Secret Roll: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 31 using 1d20+11. Listen.]

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Listen (26): Just after you turn the corner, you hear a noise from the room to your left (east). It sounded like a clatter of small things onto a wooden table. After the noise, the entire building remains silent

13:10, Today: Secret Roll: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 26 using 1d20+11. Listen.]

Suddenly Frank tensed and put an arm out to stop Toby moving further along the corridor. He made a gesture where he touched his ear and then pointed urgently at the door immediately to their left.

Frank looked to see if the door had a keyhole they might be able to take a look through to try and identify the source of the sound.

Toby looked over at Frank with a patient nod. He gestured to the other side of the door, and leaned in on the door to see if he could make out anything distinct.

Frank nodded and smoothly moved to take a position next to the other side of the door, where Toby had indicated.

Neither of you hear anything more through the door.

OOC:
16:58, Today: Secret Roll: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 26 using 1d20+11. Listen.
16:58, Today: Secret Roll: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 31 using 1d20+11. Listen.

Frank had heard nothing more since the first noise he'd heard from behind the door, which either meant that whatver was on the other side of the door had heard them and was staying expertly quiet, or that something benign had caused the noise, like the wind blowing over something on a desk.

Either way, standing outside the room wasn't gaining them anything. If the source of the noise did post a threat, Frank wanted to deal with it now, not leave it behind them and risk being flanked by an unseen enemy.

Gun raised and ready to shoot, he tried the door. He kept his body half covered by the doorframe, ready to spring back into cover if the occupant of the room was armed.

OOC: Ready action to move into total cover if whatever is behind the door has any sort of ranged weapon.

Tobias readied his own weapon, gun trained on an elevation that would put it right near someone's middle section.

Frank tenses, opens the door, and peers in: there's nobody in the room. At least, nobody who's not 3 inches tall and made of plastic.

The room is dominated by a large wooden table, upon which are set up scores of small green plastic army men in military formation, complete with helicopters, tanks, and heavy artillery. Someone was either using this room as a war room or play room, but they weren't finished before they left. The sound you heard apparently came from a bucket of infantry that tipped over; the infantry are now spilling out of it.

The strange thing, though, is that the way the men are set up, it looks like someone spilled the bucket then started standing them up from the far end of the spill and worked their way to the bucket.

The room is otherwise not more remarkable than the rest of the building you have seen so far. More paintings of strange dignitaries line the walls, and a row of windows to the east show more of the courtyard and more of the outside of the building. There is a door due south, and another door to the southwest.


.   +----------+
.  T|          |
.  Fx   ____   w
.   |  /    \  |   B = turned box
.   |  |    |  |   g = scattered men and vehicles
.   |  | GG |  w   G = organized men and vehicles
. |S|  | gG |  |
. |S|  | g  |  |
. |S|  | g  |  w
. +-+  | B  |  |
.   |  \____/  |
.   x          w
.   |          |
.   +----xx----+
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:15, Thu 25 June 2015.

Frank's body relaxed but he didn't lower his gun for the moment. He moved into the room, sweeping it for any occupants. When he saw that there were none except for the toy army, he lowered his gun, but kept it in his hand.

The windows facing east provided an excellent opportunity to confirm or disprove his theory about this being an alternate version of the White House. He crouched down, wary of the possibility that they might be spotted by anyone in the gardens, and moved along the east wall until he reached the last window.

When he had reached the window, he stood partially and peeked over the top of the sill trying to get a better view of the central building.

Toby, meanwhile, concentrated on the toy soldiers. He had never heard of someone using toy soldiers in a war room, but it wasn't unthinkable. If the table lacked any of the maps or measuring devices he associated with a proper war room, he examined the rest of the room, searching for a purpose to the room and keeping an eye on those soldiers.

Frank's fears are confirmed when he looks out the window. Beyond the gardens Frank recognizes the rounded southern face of the central wing of the White House, only it looks as if someone painted it with ground coal. Beyond it loom buildings of clear Victorian architecture, and to the south, Frank can just barely see a gruesome tower rising above the trees. It's black exterior blends seamlessly into the sky, making it seem like it never ends.

OOC: This should give you an idea of what you can see out the window, though obviously the color is off. You are looking out from a room in the building closest to the viewer.

Meanwhile Tobias checks out the table. There are no papers or maps to indicate any sort of battle plans, and the soldiers seem to be set up into one army, not the opposing formations you might expect in a war room. As Tobias peers closer, he notices that the soldiers were cast with surprising detail. Despite the seam left from the die-casting process, they almost appear to be tiny green men complete with clear facial expressions, zippered clothing, and tiny pins in their tiny grenades. The vehicles, though made out of aluminum, are of similar detail; they almost look as if they'd have enough parts to be fully functional, if you had someone small enough to operate them.

Despite the conviction Frank had felt about his hunch, a chill still ran down his spine when it was confirmed. There was something about seeing the face of his nation's seat of power stained a grim black colour that filled him with a vague unease. The White House was a symbol for millions; a symbol of freedom, a symbol of democracy, a symbol of hope. Its antithesis, the Black House seemed to symbolise the opposite of those things; oppression, dictatorship and despair.

Beyond the Black House, the black tower drew his eye and he felt the unease solidify into something more tangible, fear.

"This is bad," he said in a low voice. "Wherever the hell this place is, it scares me."

Frank managed to tear his eyes away from the tower and moved back away from the windows to let Toby take a look if he wanted to. He started to look at the portraits of dignitaries on the walls.

OOC: How recently does Frank think they were painted? Does there seem to be some sort of order, like most recent first? Are there any obvious clues to these questions, like dates on little brass labels? Do they all look like holders of the same position or is it a collection of people who seem to be in different roles?

Toby paused in the middle of his examination of what appeared to be a shrink-rayed brother to an Abrams tank to look up at his partner. "Don't say that," he said, "bad shit happens when you say that." He stood, pointedly not mentioning that the aforementioned 'bad shit' seemed to happen to them anyway as he approached the double-doors into the room, listening at them before cracking one open.

As Frank looks around the room at the pictures. There are five pictures in all; all of them are old, and seem to be of the same age, but the people in them don't all seem to be from the same time period. Some of them display tags with the same swimming language that you saw on the portal, and they materialize into names and titles: John Farson, First President of New Gilead; Joseph Gregor, Victorious General during the State Uprisings; and John Hennessey, Sec'y of War, 201-211AG.

Just as Tobias reaches the double doors he here's a tiny voice say, Don't open up that door. It's followed by dozens of tiny clicking sounds.

Dozens of tiny clicking sounds.

Toby had seen Toy Story, and was torn between reactions; Either 'Glee!' or 'Please God don't shoot me with your tiny bullets of pain.' He opted for something in the middle, turning around slowly and staring at the men on the table.

Tobias and Frank turn around to see the little army men, now ambulatory, scurrying around, having finally given up their pretense of simply being toys. Their former realism is now even greater as they rush to set up fortified positions behind small, plastic ramparts that they pull out of the tipped-over box. Small plastic men start loading two heavy artillery cannons, two tanks start up with a whir and a tiny puff of smoke, and the blades on the helicopters slowly start spinning, sounding like a slowly-building swarm of locusts.

Dozens of men point their tiny carbines at the two intruders.

See the combat map for specific locations of each unit

Tobias watched in fascination as the soldiers began erecting their little battlements, which turned to a little bit of worry as the soldiers clearly decided to take them as a threat. "Wait," he said, holding up his hands, "er, we want to negotiate with your commander."

He glanced at Frank. What would the implications be if they surrendered to these things? A scene straight from Gulliver came to him, and quickly nixed that idea.

Frank had been intending to go for a peaceful resolution if one was possible. There was no way to know how much damage the tiny weapons would do and he didn't want to be given the chance to find out.

To show he had no hostile intent, he slid his Five-seveN back into the holster at the rear of the waistband of his jeans and held his hands out in front of him, palms down. His choice of gesture was deliberate. He didn't want anything as submissive as 'reaching for the sky'. He wanted to show them he wasn't planning to attack them, not surrender to them.

"My partner is right," said Frank, keeping his voice calm and even. "There's no need for this to escalate into violence. Let's talk it out."

"We are here because we are trying to save lives. Childrens' lives," he said. "You're soldiers. Men of honour. I'm asking you to understand the importance of our mission here and to understand that we have no hostile intent towards you or this country."

[Private to GM: Diplomacy Skill Check = 20, + 1 Action Point Roll = 8, = 28

00:13, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 8 using 2d6. Spend 1 Action Point.
00:10, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 20 using 1d20+12. Diplomacy Roll. ]

You see the commander standing in the middle of the table, surrounded by men and ramparts. The helicopters' blades are spinning at full speed but they have not yet left the ground, the tanks have their cannons aimed at you, and the artillery crews are quickly readying their weapons.

The commander puts a megaphone up to his mouth and calls to his troops: You hear that, men? He's trying to save children's lives. He looks left and right, addressing troops by name.

John, they could be saving your little Suzy's life. Or Tony, they might be saving your little boy — what's his name? — oh yeah, Timmy. Think about it men, what do you say? Should we help them save lives?

The commander looks directly at Frank, and suddenly Frank notices the evil glimmer in the commander's eyes.

Maybe the life we save today is Henry Leyden's. A slow rumble forms among the men, and quickly turns into a round of laughter. The commander waits until the laughter dies down then says, Well we can't have that, now, can we? Men? ATTACK!

OOC: The soldiers win initiative, but it's late and I just now realized how long it's going to take me to do my round of combat... I'll try to have the continuation of this post up tomorrow (hopefully) or Friday (more likely).

23:45, Today: Facilitator rolled 18 using 1d20+9. Initiative.
23:44, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 14 using 1d20+3. Initiative.
23:44, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 16 using 1d20+9. Initiative.

As soon as he noticed the evil look in the commander's eyes, Franks right hand was dropping and reaching for his weapon. As the laughter died down, Frank had cleared his holster and the gun up in both hands as he brought it to bear on the Commander.

Cut the head off the snake...

He squeezed the trigger and let loose a shot at the tiny military leader, praying that his shot hit.


OOC: Attack Roll 26 Damage Roll 12
09:55, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 19 using 1d20+8 (+1 for PBS).
10:01, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 7 using 2d6. Spend 1 Action Point.
10:04, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 12 using 2d8+1. Damage Roll (+1 for PBS).

Frank hits the commander square in the chest, blowing a gaping hole from below his left shoulder to just above his hip. He falls down, but still has enough strength to command his men. While he weakly barks out orders the men closest to him close ranks, and the medic rushes in and begins pulling tiny tools out of his tool bag.

Meanwhile, rest of the troops move into action. The two squadrons nearest Frank and Tobias charge forward; there are tiny popping sounds, and then Frank and Tobias feel a stinging sensation, like being stung by bees. The tiny bazooka men unleash a rocket in a cloud of smoke then begin reloading as their partner takes aim with his own bazooka. The artillery and tanks unleash their payloads, sounding like firecrackers on New Years Eve, and Frank and Tobias are each hit by explosions of surprising force, considering their size.

Frank
Infantry: 3/6 hit for 5 total damage
Grenade: 1/1 hit for 0 total damage (made Ref save)
Machine Gun: 1/1 hit for 0 total damage (made Ref save)
Heavy Machine Gun: 1/1 hit for 0 total damage (made Ref save)
Bazooka: 0/1 hit
Tank: 0/1 hit
Artillery: 1/1 hit for 26 total damage (failed Ref — if you bump your save by 6 with an AP you will take 0 damage)

Tobias
Infantry: 4/6 hit for 10 total damage
Grenade: miss
Machine Gun: 1/1 hit for 2 damage (failed Ref — if you bump your save by 5 with an AP you take 0 damage)
Heavy Machine Gun: 0/1 hit
Bazooka: 0/1 hit
Tank: 1/1 hit for 11 damage
Artillery: 1/1 hit for 6 damage (made Ref save)

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: 15:46, Today: Facilitator rolled 12,25,19,13,10,20,3,1,2,3,3,1 using d20+8,d20+8,d20+6,d20+6,d20+6,d20+6,d4-1,d4-1,d4-1,d4-1,d4-1,d4-1. Infantry Attack (Frank).
15:49, Today: Facilitator rolled 16,1 using d20+6,1d6. Grenadier Attack (Frank).
16:02, Today: Facilitator rolled 17 using 1d20+7. Grenade Reflex Save (Frank).
15:58, Today: Facilitator rolled 24,4,24 using d20+10,2d3-2,d20+7. Machine Gunner Attack, Ref Save (Frank).
16:03, Today: Facilitator rolled 19,4,27 using d20+11,2d4-2,d20+7. Heavy Machine Gun Attk, Ref Save (Frank).
16:06, Today: Facilitator rolled 14,6 using d20+10,3d6. Bazooka Attack (Frank).
16:07, Today: Facilitator rolled 12,10 using d20+7,3d10. Tank Attack (Frank).
16:08, Today: Facilitator rolled 11,26 using d20+7,4d8. Artillery Attack (Frank).
16:27, Today: Facilitator rolled 9 using 1d20+7. Artillery Reflex Save (Frank).]

[Private to Tobias Byrne: 16:11, Today: Facilitator rolled 20,7,21,15,16,9,3,2,3,3,1,1 using d20+4,d20+4,d20+2,d20+2,d20+2,d20+2,d4-1,d4-1,d4-1,d4-1,d4-1,d4-1. Infantry Attack (Tobias).
16:13, Today: Facilitator rolled 7,2,24 using d20+2,1d6,d20+5. Grenadier Attack, Ref Save
(Tobias).
16:13, Today: Facilitator rolled 20,2,10 using d20+6,2d3-2,d20+5. Machine Gunner Attack, Ref Save (Tobias).
16:19, Today: Facilitator rolled 10,3,24 using d20+9,2d4-2,d20+5. Heavy Machine Gun Attk, Ref Save (Toby).
16:19, Today: Facilitator rolled 13,15 using d20+8,3d6. Bazooka Attack (Tobias).
16:21, Today: Facilitator rolled 27,11 using d20+7,3d10. Tank Attack (Tobias).
16:26, Today: Facilitator rolled 23,13,25 using d20+7,4d8,d20+5. Artillery Attack, Ref Save (Tobias).]

Tobias muttered an oath, his wounds turning his clothing a bright read as he dove to the side, away from the line of fire for most of them.

[Private to GM: Let's burn that action point for the save.
Before I decide what to do, can I make the magic missile spell affect a 5x5 box?]

PM [Private to Tobias Byrne: Action Point used and check succeeded. Do you mean that you want to aim the missile to effect everything in the 5x5 box, like an area effect? Don't think it works that way. These guys are small enough that I guess you could hit two of them if they are sharing a 1x1 box, but currently that's only the commander and the medic.

19:27, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 10 using 2d6. Action Point. ]

He scrambled a bit in his scroll case, looking for the correct paper before bringing it out. "Let's see how you like this!" He spat a word and made a gesture, completing, hopefully, the spell written there.

[Private to GM: Using my burning hands scroll, but I don't remember the roll I have to make.]

After Tobias finishes his mutterings and gestures the ancient scroll turns to dust and he holds his hands with the thumbs touching and fingers spread. Suddenly a jet of flame streaks out, enveloping the nearest squadron of soldiers. The men scream and wail as the fire melts and scorches them. The two infantrymen nearest the source of the flames as well as the slow-moving machine gunner are reduced to a puddle of molten goo, while the other soldiers are still barely mobile. They trudge forward, their misshapen bodies and faces full of evil intent.

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Since you are of high enough level to cast the spell, you don't need to make a check. You have to take a 5-ft step forward in order to target anyone, so I'm assuming that's what you are doing.

20:12, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 11 using 4d4. Burning Hands Damage. ]

Frank gave a shout of pain as the artillery round slammed into his chest, ripping through bone and flesh as it passed through him, leaving a ragged wound. He staggered a little as Toby cast his spell, and there was a grim look of satisfaction on his face as the gout of flame melted the soldiers.

Frank used the momentary distraction to back away from the table, towards the door. He knew the last hit had badly wounded him, and he wanted to be able to keep an exit clear if they needed to retreat.

He dropped into a kneeling crouch and lined up a shot on one of the tanks. The weapon bucked twice in his hands as he let off a couple of shots in rapid succession.

OOC: AP roll of 5, so not enough to boost reflex save vs artillery.

Frank moved 3 squares down, so now adjacent to small door on left hand wall.

00:39, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 9 using 1d20+5. Attack Roll vs Tank. - Looks like that wound really threw off Frank's aim.

Current HP: 27/58 Current Defence: 21 vs Ranged (+2 from Kneeling position) 19 vs Melee.

Frank's shot goes wild, but in his quick thinking he buys himself some time. His squadron follows him, but their tiny weapons prove to be not powerful enough to reach the greater distance, and their legs are too small to cover the gap. The tank's scale 105mm cannon, however, has enough power, and deals Frank another devastating blow.

Tobias's squad, while injured, continue pressing the attack. They fire and pinpricks of blood appear, soaking the mage's clothing.

Meanwhile, the medic patches up the commander, who, though still missing a large part of his plastic body, is now mobile and back in command of his troops. The ambulance rushes south to try and save any melted troops who still have a chance.

Frank
Infantry: 0/3 hit
Bazooka: 0/1 hit
Heavy Machine Gun: 1/1 hit for 0 damage (made Ref save)
Tank: 1/1 hit for 16 damage
Artillery: 1/1 hit for 0 damage (made Ref save)
9/58hp

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Wisdom (12): As you lose blood and you start to fade, for some reason you get the idea that you are forgetting something very important, something from very early in the day. You just can't remember exactly what it was...

20:56, Today: Facilitator rolled 11,4,1,1 using d20+2,d20+2,d4-1,d4-1. Infantry Attack (Frank).
20:57, Today: Facilitator rolled 19,2 using d20+2,d4-1. Infantry Attack (Frank).
21:04, Today: Facilitator rolled 10,7,25 using d20+8,3d6,d20+7. Bazooka Attack, Ref Save (Frank).
21:08, Today: Facilitator rolled 15,5,16 using d20+9,2d4-2,d20+7. Heavy Machine Gun Attk, Ref Save (Frank).
21:12, Today: Facilitator rolled 21,17 using d20+7,3d10. Tank Attack (Frank).
21:14, Today: Facilitator rolled 13,19,8 using d20+7,4d8,d20+7. Artillery Attack, Ref Save (Frank).
21:18, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 12 using 1d20. Wisdom Check.]

Tobias
Infantry: 2/3 hit for 4 total damage
Grenadier: 0/1 hit
Bazooka: 1/1 hit for 4 damage (made Ref save)
Heavy Machine Gun: 1/1 hit for 0 damage (made Ref save)
Tank: 0/1 hit
Artillery: 1/1 hit for 7 damage (made Ref save)
2/44hp

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Wisdom (8): As you lose blood and you start to fade, for some reason you get the idea that you are forgetting something very important, something from very early in the day. You just can't remember exactly what it was...

21:21, Today: Facilitator rolled 25,13,26,1,3,3 using d20+8,d20+8,d20+8,d4-1,d4-1,d4-1. Infantry Attack (Tobias).
21:23, Today: Facilitator rolled 9,6,6 using d20+8,1d6,d20+5. Grenadier Attack, Ref Save (Tobias).
21:26, Today: Facilitator rolled 17,9,20 using d20+8,3d6,d20+5. Bazooka Attack, Ref Save (Tobias).
21:29, Today: Secret Roll: Facilitator rolled 31,2,18 using d20+11,2d4-1,d20+5. Machine Gunner Attack, Ref Save (Tobias).
21:30, Today: Facilitator rolled 14,22 using d20+7,3d10. Tank Attack (Tobias).
21:31, Today: Facilitator rolled 19,14,15 using d20+7,4d8,d20+5. Artillery Attack, Ref Save (Tobias).
21:38, Today: Facilitator rolled 8 using 1d20+1. Wisdom Check.]

PM [Private to Tobias Byrne: Wisdom (12): As you lose blood and you start to fade, for some reason you get the idea that you are forgetting something very important, something from very early in the day. It was some form of language that had no power in your world, but maybe it will have some use here. It's just on the tip of your tongue...]

No.

Toby was a delf-taught spellcaster, one of a very select breed who could do this and not blow themselves to bits while doing it. There was a reason for this; mainly that one didn't muck about with things they didn't understand until they were damn certain that they would, in fact, work.

That meant that no spellcasting anything until you at least had an idea of what it was supposed to do, and especially not to do it for the first time in the middle of a combat encounter, when you were bleeding out and losing both mental and physical willpower that might very well be sucked out by the spell and kill you.

Toby thought all these things.

Then he threw them out the window. "Ram Abbalah! Can-tah Abbalah-doon!" There weren't any accompanying gestures, so he settled for pointing vaguely in the direction of the soldiers, hoping for the best.

As the tank shell ripped it's way through his shoulder, Frank knew they had to get out of the room. Another few seconds of this and they would be dead, and that meant that Henry and possibly countless other children would die. That couldn't happen.

Then Toby spoke the words from his dream. Words that he couldn't have know, words Frank hadn't told him. When Toby spoke the words, there was a power behind them that hadn't come across when they'd been written on the pad next to his bed.

Frank gaped at him for the briefest of moments and then kicked the door as hard as he could, assuming it was locked and not wanting to risk the time it would take to check if that was the case.

[Private to GM: OOC: Please make the appropriate roll for Frank kicking open the door. Please roll for 1 AP if the result is less than 20. If it opens, my intention is for Frank to use his move action to get out of the room into total cover and hope Toby can follow suit.]

Frank kicks the door open, completely wrecking the latch. Tobias shouts what he can only assume to be magical words, but he feels no strange energies coming from his fingers; in fact, nothing otherworldly at all seems to happen.

As Tobias cringes to face the onslaught sure to come he notices that... there isn't one. The tiny green men are all standing board-straight, jaws open in awe. A few infantrymen even forget they're holding rifles and let them slide to the ground. The commander slowly puts his megaphone to his mouth and, sounding shaken, says, What did you just say?

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Ended up using 1 Action Point to boost your total strength roll to 15. Luckily the building is not well cared for.

22:49, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 5 using 2d6. Action Point.
22:48, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 10 using 1d20+1. Strength check. ]
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:16, Tue 15 Feb 2011.

Tobias paused, then looked down at the soldiers. He blinked, then blinked again.


"NOW you want to talk?!"

Frank stepped back from the open door and moved to stand next to Tobias. He wondered if he should also say the words, but Toby saying them seemed to have done the trick, whatever that was.

He'd thought that maybe the words were some sort of password, but the reaction from the men was more than that warranted. He didn't know what to do next. He was going to let Toby take the lead on this one, at least for the moment.

The commander looks a little perplexed. Why do we now choose palaver? You call upon the name of the Crimson King in the High Speech, yet I suspect you don't realize it. We can-tah, or Little Gods as you might say in your language, may just be mercenaries, but no promise of wealth, no matter how great, can be worth the risk, no matter how small, of opposing Ram Abbalah.

Toby wished he had taken those drama lessons he had been offered in college more seriously... "Mind telling us your whole conniving plan, then?" He asked, edging towards the door, ready to bolt if it went sour.

The words were unfamiliar, but the sentiment was one that Frank understood. It was the same reaction seen in gang-bangers when they realised that the shipment they'd just ripped off belonged to real gangsters. That mixture of fear and respect.

The Little Gods' belief that he and Toby were somehow involved with this 'Crimson King' was enough to get them to back down. The fact that Toby knew the words seemed enough, even though they had worked out pretty quickly that he didn't know the significance.

He was willing for Toby to take the lead on this one, but was ready to step in and assist if it looked like things were heading south. Neither of them could take another onslaught from the Little Gods.

[Private to GM: OOC: Frank is trying to 'read' the situation. Could you please roll a Sense Motive check for Frank if it becomes appropriate?]

We may be small, High Speaker, but we aren't dumb. But I suspect you aren't either, even if you do call upon powers beyond your ken. You already know our part in the plan, and I'm sure if Mr. Monday* wants you to know his part he'd much rather tell you himself...

* The actual word the commander said is incomprehensible to your ears and would be impossible for you to recreate with your tongue. The closest approximation, and that's using the term loosely, would be "Mr. Monday".

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Sense Motive (24): You can tell that the Army Commander is conflicted. He may just work for the highest bidder, but at the end of the day a paycheck doesn't do him any good if he crosses the wrong guy and loses.

00:11, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Francis 'Frank' Decourcey, rolled 24 using 1d20+7. Sense Motive.]

Tobias was not often in the position of someone assuming he knew more than he actually did, and it was perhaps the first time he was uncomfortable in that situation. "Yes, of course..."

He looked over at Frank. What now?

Frank takes a step forwards, taking Toby's look as a sign that his partner wanted him to step in.

"Ram Abballah has many servants," he said, his voice low but commanding. "Those who know nothing of the King, but serve his purposes all the same, and those who serve him willingly, with loyalty and are rewarded for it."

"You did not know it was the King you opposed when Mr Monday hired you, Little Gods, but now you do and that leaves you with a choice; correct your transgression and serve Ram Abballah with us or oppose him and face annihilaton from existence."

Frank's mind pulled grand sounding words from the sermons he had been subjected to in his youth by Catholic priests obssessed with fire and brimstone.

He took the voice from one priest in particular Father Patrick O'Malley, a fearsome Irish Catholic who had taken great pleasure in describing the horrors of hell to those who attended his sermons and who managed to make it sound like he had actually glimpsed those horrors himself.

OOC: Bluff Roll vs Little Gods 25

14:01, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 8 using 2d6. Spend 1 Action Point.
14:01, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 17 using 1d20+11. Bluff Roll vs Little Gods.

The commander lets down the megaphone and carefully considers Frank's words. He calls over a few of his men and huddle in deep discussion. In the meantime, the copters stay spooled up, ready to take off, and all the men and machines point their weapons at you, ready to fire if they receive the signal.

After an interminable few minutes the commander looks up. You have convinced us, tall ones. We will take you to Mr. Monday, and as penance to the Lord of Discordia we will patch some of your injuries, but what happens between you and Mr. Monday is your own business.

While the medic does his best to heal Tobias and Frank with rice-sized bandages, the commander shouts commands at his troops. Several ropes appear and men start repelling down the sides of the table. Other men attach ropes to the helicopters, which are then attached to the vehicles for aerial transport. When Tobias and Frank are patched as good as can be and the men and machines are all in formation, the commander asks for help opening up the southern doors. Being 3 inches tall makes it hard to use doorknobs.

You are each healed three whole hit points!

20:55, Today: Facilitator rolled 24,3 using d20+12,1d4+2. Heal Frank.
20:55, Today: Facilitator rolled 28,3 using d20+12,1d4+2. Heal Tobias.

"Not that I don't appreciate the effort, but I think it's going to take more than bandages to sort out this mess," Frank said to Toby, indicating the still gaping wound in his shoulder. "I don't suppose you can patch up a man as well as blast a door off its hinges with your hands?

His gamble seemed to have paid off, in that he had convinced the commander of the Little Gods that he and Toby were servants of the Crimson King, whoever he might be. The problem was that now the intention was to take them to this 'Mr Monday', which would have been what Frank would have wanted if he and Toby hadn't both been badly hurt in the fight.

OOC: Does Frank think that the Commander has actually believed the bluff, and does think that Frank is a loyal servant of Ram Abballah, or does Frank think the Commander is running a counter-bluff, and it just taking them to Monday to finish them off?

Sense Motive check: 20

17:20, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 16 using 1d20+7. Sense Motive check vs Commander.

17:22, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 4 using 2d6. Spend another AP.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:23, Mon 14 Mar 2011.

Tobias laughed weakly, limping slightly as he followed after Frank. "Come now, do you think I'd be able to do something useful like that? Of course I can't heal us."

Frank gave a pained smile and briefly thought about the possibility of getting some basic field medical training. For a moment, he wondered what Adele Sienkiewicz was currently assigned to.

He turned back to the double doors at the south of the room. He'd already figured that the soldiers would have killed them already if they were planning a double cross. Their fear of the crossing the Crimson King seemed real enough.

He reached out and tried the handles.

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Sense Motive (20): The commander seems truthful enough.]

Frank tries the handle and it moves easily. The troops move forward, leading the way as helicopters buzz overhead. They first lead you into what seems to be a small, nondescript office with no other exit. About a dozen men line up against the far wall and start pushing. The struggle for a few seconds, then suddenly the wall starts to swing forwards. It opens to a round room elegantly draped in jet black. You have reached the Oval Office.

Frank and Tobias enter from the north west. The floor is made up of dark hardwood, partially covered with a black oval carpeting. Towards the north are two wrought-iron benches facing each other with a low table in between. Curtained windows to the west show more of the twisted garden and more to the south show a better view of the gray tower.

In front of the south windows, where you would expect to see the Presidential desk, is a large, strikingly white throne; the same throne depicted in the many pictures you have seen around the building. Sitting atop the throne is a man in his fifties. He is bald on top but has long, flowing black hair on the sides and back, and he sports a long mustache that extends down the side of his face and past his chin. He has hard eyes that display a mixture of surprise and expectation.

Well now, I see you've met my mercenaries. I should have known you would find a way to defeat them. No matter, no prophecy is entirely set in stone. The Crimson King will again reign one day.

Tobias nodded. "I take it you're Mr. Monday." He involuntarily grimaced at the mention of prophecies; he hated those things...

Yes some people call me that. By your amazing leap of intuition I can only guess that you must be Tobias, and the brooding man beside you must be Frank? Mr. Monday speaks with a slight southern drawl, and his speech seethes with sarcasm.

But I'm afraid I have you at a disadvantage; whereas I've known of y’all since before your pa was a gleam in his pa's eye, you likely do not know as much of me. My true name is meaningless in your fledgling language, so you may continue to call me Mr. Monday. I assume by now you've figured out that there are many versions of t’universe; the one where I reside is not very much unlike your own. In fact, a thousand years ago the two would be almost indistinguishable, except for a few small details. One day, as often happens in affairs of men, war broke out. But unlike any war before, this one used terrible and devastating weapons; by the end, most of the world was a wasteland.

But humanity prevails. By five-hundred years after the end of the great war, a makeshift medieval society had rebuilt itself among the ruins of the ancient cities. Eschewing the old technology, blaming it for causing mankind's blood lust, this newer society flourished under a rule of well-respected kings and a lineage of honorable knights. The knights, however, weren’t strong enough to prevent society's second downfall.

A revolution, led by a man named John Farson, was started in the name of democracy , though its purpose was actually more sinister than that. Farson resurrected the old technologies and used them to obliterate the king and his knights. He set up a false presidency and ruled New Gilead, as he called it, with an iron fist. Farson never fully formed a working society, but no one else ever successfully overthrew him, either. Society slowly dissolved and devolved into the state you see it today, ruled by bandits and warlords, with no larger structure to speak of.

We are in what's left of the former capital of New Gilead, and I've been running to run this little portion of it. Any semblance of government has been absent for generations, so I figured that the Black House would be a nice enough place to stay while I'm stuck here.

I'm sure you're wondering what I wanted with the children, right? While Farson may long be gone from this world, his true purpose, that which was given him as leader of the Cult of the Red, is to destroy the confines of the Crimson King, held captive by magics so ancient even the scholars of the Old Ones had long forgotten them, thus releasing him to his proper place as ruler of all worlds.

The key is, though, that his confines cannot be destroyed by ancient technology or more ancient magics. Even though his bonds crumble, they must be broken by the primordial energies that created them, and in fact, created the universe as well. Only certain people have access to these powers, which manifest during childhood. But if these powers are not developed, they are lost forever by adolescence. My task is to gather up these children from all the worlds, and train them to be the very destructive force they were destined to be. And this is the task which you have interrupted.

Tobias was tempted to shoot the man on general principles. He was monologuing, and that was something this, while useful, was damned hard not to take advantage of. He held his peace, though, before continuing. "And the fact they all end up dead is... coincidence?" He continued, "I can't say I'm fond of a ruler who requires the blood of innocents to appear."

Frank was having trouble believing Mr Monday's claim to have known Frank and Toby generations before their birth. It seemed equally likely that he had some spies placed in their world and had done his research. He suspected that this was supposed to unnerve them, throw them off balance, like the rest of his speech.

Frank knew he really didn't like the sound of 'Ruler of all worlds'. Given the fear shown by the Little Gods when Ram Abballah was mentioned, he was pretty certain that this Crimson King being freed wasn't something that should happen.

"Toby's right," said Frank. "A lot of that doesn't make sense. You call John Farson sinister and his presidency false, yet then you speak of his purpose and yours being the same. You call the Crimson King the rightful ruler of all worlds, but someone imprisoned him. In my experience, prisoners tend to be criminals."

Frank glanced around the room, trying to see a way out of this situation. They needed to keep Monday talking to buy them some time. Time for what though, that he didn't know. He might have risked a straight fight if they hadn't just been nearly killed by the Little Gods. They'd walked right into the lions den and Frank felt like they were about to be eaten.

[Private to GM: Roll a Spot check for me if it's appropriate. Also if a fight kicks off, Frank gets first action because of the 'React First' Negotiator talent.]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:43, Tue 19 Apr 2011.

Mr. Monday stares at you in silence for a few seconds, then breaks out in an uproarious round of laughter.

My friends, are you really so naive to think that I don't know I'm the bad guy? I'm not like the Hitlers, Stalins, and Bachs of your word. I have no illusions of fighting for some greater good, and you can't use the thought of these precious little children to give me some miraculous, last-minute change of heart.

The Crimson King is not just some misunderstood malfeant; he is the representation of all which his evil. It was a single drop of his blood, shed by the knights of the White in a failed attempt at slaying him, that put evil into the hearts of Men. Where any man rapes, steals, kills, tortures, slanders, or or even swears, so is He there. I do not wish to free Ram Abballah because he was falsely imprisoned, or because he would be a just ruler, or even because, like your Little Gods there, that I have been properly recompensed. No, releasing the Crimson King would restore the world, the entire universe, all of existence, back to its true intended nature. The King was created by the Old Gods to rule the very tower in which he is imprisoned, and it is to this rule that he must be returned.

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Nothing important to be spotted at this point.]

Tobias nodded. "Right. Good luck with that." Tobias looked at Frank, gesturing to the door. "Shall we?"

"You're right, we can't win this," replied Frank, looking gloomy. "Come on."

He turned and walked towards the door, wondering if Toby had anything cleverer in mind that simply walking away and coming back with reinforcements. He doubted that Mr Monday had any intention of letting them leave and he was ready to whip out his gun in a flash if a fight kicked off.

[Private to GM: Frank still fully intends to 'React First' if anyone kicks off hostilities.]

Toby also heavily doubted that he would simply let them walk out. His hand was on his pistol as they left. He intended to walk right back out and destroy the portal. It would buy them time, he hoped.

Not so fast, gentlemen. You may be bored of my monologuing, but don't let my penchant for soliloquy obfuscate my talent at getting things to go my way.

Mr. Monday starts to bark a command at the Little Gods, but suddenly Frank has a flash of intuition, as if he had been in this exact situation before and knows what comes next.

Roll initiative! Frank can make one move or attack action because of his React First talent, then anyone who beats a 19 initiative can go.

Controlling the Little Gods:

As an attack action, you can make a Diplomacy or Intimidate check to take command of a Little God. Either check can receive a bonus of +2 or +5 from convincing dialogue. If taking command of the Commander, the DC is 30. Taking command of any other unit is an opposed check between you and the Commander (each unit gets a bonus to it's check as shown below).

• Machinery (Artillery, Helicopter, Tank, Ambulance, Medic): +0
• Infantry: +1
• Machine Gunner: +2
• Heavy Machine Gunner: +3
• Commander (commanding only): +5

Once you have taken command of a unit, you can command it as an attack action with another opposed Diplomacy or Intimidate check. If you fail this check, the unit is still considered "controlled", and you can try again without having to regain control. Most units can be commanded to attack and/or move, which they will do to the best of their ability. The Commander can be commanded to deploy his units, and he will have all of his units attack or move as you command.

If Mr. Monday controls any unit, before you can control it you must first win an opposed check against Mr. Monday as an attack action before you can attempt to control the unit. For purposes of "control", both of you are considered the same; that is, if one of you gains control, the other can command on his action. Mr. Monday starts about 30 feet away from you (keep in mind that most of the units have very short ranges and slow speeds).

09:29, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 21 using 1d20+9. Good initiative ahoy!

"Hold it!" barked Frank, his voice taking on the same edge of authority it had when he'd first persuaded the Little Gods that they were working for Ram Abballah. "Commander, order your men to attack this pretender to true power!"

Even as he said, it, Frank knew that he hadn't quite summoned enough force into his voice to bend the tiny men to his will. It had been a chance to get ahead, and he was pretty certain he'd blown it.

OOC: Wow, the dice roller really hates me today... give him hell Toby!

Initiative: 6
Roll to control Commander: 21
Current HP: 12

18:23, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 6 using 1d20+3. Initiative Roll.
18:21, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 7 using 2d6. Action Point to increase abysmal roll.
18:12, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 14 using 1d20+13. Intimidate roll vs. Commander.

Frank is not successful. Toby can attempt to command, if he chooses.

Toby, knowing his disposition for words, leaves the talking and the commanding to Frank. He draws his gun and shoots, aiming for Monday's smug little all-knowing head.

22:40, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 11 using 2d6. Action point usage to attack.
22:37, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 13 using 1d20+7. attack.
Total attack of 24.
22:41, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 13 using 4d6+1. damage, because he's EVUL!.

The Commander simply scoff's at Frank's attempt. Come on big guy, haven't we already had this discussion?

Tobias's shot, meanwhile, rings true, striking Mr. Monday in the arm. He growls in pain then shouts out, RISE, bladed fury! Follow me and serve in the house of the Crimson King!

One of the helicopters spins up and lifts lazily into the air.

[Private to GM: 24/37 HP, H1 Controlled]

Tobias takes to cover, aiming and shooting again.

22:08, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 8 using 1d20+7. attk.

Click.

"God-Blessed antique..." He muttered, clearing the misfired round.

Frank had known he'd been too ambitious as soon as he'd seen the look on the Commander's face. This time he kept things simple; pick the largest piece of hardware in the room and ordered it to attack Mr Monday.

Pointing at one of the artillery pieces he shouted.

"You men, upon my signal, unleash hell!"

The quote was another rare moment of humour from the usually all-business Frank. Toby got the impression that despite the wounds they had suffered and the precariousness of their situation, Frank might actually be enjoying this.

"Fire!"

As soon as he had given the order, he followed suit with Toby and moved to the best cover available.

OOC: 08:01, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 29 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs Artillery.
Current HP: 12, Defence: 19 (+ whatever cover bonus you deem appropriate)


[Private to GM: Given the issue with range (I'm hoping that's less of a problem for the artillery pieces), would it be an option to pick up one of the Little Gods' units and move it closer 'manually'?]

As Tobias and Frank each crouch behind the wrought-iron benches, the artillery unit comes to life. Invisible hands begin loading a shell and the turret takes aim at Mr. Monday. Meanwhile, Mr. Monday commands the helicopter to attack, and the commander's protests are not enough to overcome the mustachioed man's charisma.

The helicopter buzzes in between the two men, firing its weapons. It strafes Tobias with a spray of machine gun fire, but it clangs harmlessly off the bench with tiny pings. The helicopter fires two unguided rockets at Frank; one is fired late and hits the wall, causing a tiny scorch mark, but the other flies true, burning Frank.

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: You take 9 damage. Throwing one of the pieces is a novel solution! I would say treat it like a thrown weapon. It takes a move action to pick one up (with an AoO if the unit is not controlled) then an attack action to throw it, so you might want to coordinate with Toby.]

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Reflex Save (21): You take no damage from the attack.

20:48, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 21 using 1d20+7. Reflex Save. ]

Tobias, finshed cleaning his gun, cocks an eyebrow at the tiny commander. Setting his gun down, he flings an arm out. What must have appeared as two small ICBMs sprang to life, hurtling down onto the commander.

Magic Missile the commander; see how well he takes orders THEN.
20:51, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 6 using 2d4+2.

The tiny men watch at first in awe and wonder which slowly turns to dread as the glowing missiles fly towards and then obliterate their commander. The men seem to panic and are, at least for now, at a loss as to what to do.

OOC: Yet again, you guys never cease to surprise me! The good news and bad news here is that you no longer have to win an opposed check against the commander to control a unit; the DC is now 15 + the unit's modifier from the table above. Additionally, it doesn't take as much time to command or control a unit; it is now a move action to control a unit and a free action to command a unit (though each unit can only be given one command per round, and on a failed check you must wait until the next round to try again).

Tobias, since you only used your attack action you can still take a move action if you wish.

OOC: Ah! Thank you kindly.

"That's our power!" He shouted to the Little Gods. "You, helicopter, take out Monday!"

22:34, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 18 using 1d20+3. Charisma. Woot.

One of the other helicopters spins up and buzzes towards Mr. Monday.

"Fire on the chopper pursuing me, now!" Frank shouted at the artillery team who were loading their weapon ready to fire on Monday. "Toby, we need better cover!"

He was moving back towards the doors they had entered through. His shirt was sticky with dark coloured blood, and around the place where the rocket had hit, the linen shirt was scorched. His face and neck had some minor lacerations from (very) small arms fire, but by far his worst wound was an ugly burn on his chest at the point of impact for the rocket.

OOC: 00:44, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 22 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs. Artillery.
Move out of room and behind the wall for total cover. Draw Five-seveN as a free action with Quick Draw feat, just in case the artillery and Toby both fail to take it out.  Defence: 19  HP: 3

[Private to GM: I checked the dimensions of the Oval Office, and it's only just over 35ft at it's longest axis, so I figure I could get outside the room as a move action, right?]

As Frank runs out of the room, the helicopter buzzes behind him in pursuit. The artillery unit frantically spins around, trying to get a lead on the helicopter. Frank ducks behind the wall and just as the helicopter tries to round the corner the artillery fires and the wall explodes, spraying chunks of flaming drywall and blowing the helicopter wildly off-track. It survives the blast, though not without some damage. It recovers and resumes flight, until Mr. Monday bellows, Ignore him; he's run away! Get the one coming after me!

The helicopter shakily changes course, and lines up behind the one zooming towards Mr. Monday. It opens fire, sending sprays of bullets towards the other bird; you hear tiny pinging sounds as some of them hit their target. Suddenly a small, bright object about the size, shape, and speed of a bottle rocket shoots forth towards the other helo. It tries to dodge out of the way, but the missile follows. It connects with a sharp bang, and the helicopter clatters to the ground, lifeless.

Mr. Monday simply smiles and says, Tank? If you want to earn your keep, take out that one cowering over there.

Much to Mr. Monday's frustration, the tank doesn't budge.

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls H1 (5/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (reloading)
    Control H2 (0/10)]

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: You are correct. Not only that, but you were not very far from the exit to start with.]

"I suggest a strategic withdrawl," Tobias said with irony, aiming and firing once more before dashing out of the room.

17:18, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 8 using 1d20+7. Woot. ANOTHER FRIKKIN CRITFAIL

Frank looked terrible when Toby made it through the doors to join him in cover. He was leaning his weight against the wall to the side of the door jamb, breathing heavily. The wound in his shoulder was bleeding badly; one side of his shirt was darkly stained with blood.

"We can't win this," he gasped. "Not right now. We need to go, back through the portal."

"Move. Run!"

He holsters his weapon and sets off at as fast a pace as he can manage, weaving until he can get around a corner and out of the line of fire.

Toby's bullet shatters the glass window three feet to the left of Mr. Monday. He chuckles and says, Strategic withdrawal? What's the matter? Mommy calling you back for supper? Here, why don't you borrow my toy helicopter?

Mr. Monday commands the helicopter, now heavily streaming smoke, to fire at the fleeing men, but it apparently has trouble maneuvering. Instead of turning around, it keeps going on its current trajectory, flying past Mr. Monday.

The humor now gone from his eyes, Mr. Monday bellows at the tank again, and this time the tank listens. It lays down covering fire to distract Toby then turns its cannon towards him. Unfortunately the distant is too great and the .014 caliber spray is easy to dodge. The tank fires its gun early, before the cannon is fully turned; the shot goes wild and takes out a chunk of the floor.

[Private to GM: Reflex (20): Successful

21:40, Today: Facilitator, on behalf of Tobias Byrne, rolled 20 using 1d20+5. Toby Ref.]


OCC: Here's an updated map. Running at full tilt, it will be 2-3 rounds to get back to the door.

                               More Building                     |
             +------x----x-+----w---w---w---w---w---w---w---w----+          |
   Entrance  G             G         Black Brick Pathway         {          | Central
     <--     |             G                                     {          | Building
             |  +----------+  o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o  +-----{{{--+
             |  |   ____   |  _________________________________  |          |
       --w-+-+  x  /    \  x  |           Garden              |  |          |
           |    |  |    |  |  |                               |  |          |
           x    |  |    |  |  |    G = Glass Doors               |          +-
           |    |  |    |  w  |    x = Door
    -------+  |S|  |    |  |  |    o = Obsidian colonnade
              |S|  |    |  |       w = Window
    -------+  |S|  |    |  w       { = Wrought-iron fence
           |  +-+  |    |  |       S = Stairs (down)
           |    |  \____/  |       s = Secret door
    -------+    x          w
                |          |
    -------+    +----xx----+
           |       F       |       F = Frank
           |    +----xx----|       T  = Tobias
           +-  -+         /        M  = Mr. Monday
          /      \___ss__+         H1 = Helicopter (M)
         x       /      T1\        T1 = Tank (M)
     ---/       x       A1 \       A1 = Artillery (F/T)
               /       T    \
     ----------|            |
               |            |
               |            |
               \            /
                \    M     /
                 \_____H1_/

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls H1 (5/10)
    Controls T1 (10/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (reloading)
    Control H2 (0/10)]

Frank glanced back to check Toby hadn't been hit and then continued to run back towards the corridor that lead back to the portal. He ignored the catcalls of Mr Monday and the searing pain in his chest, keeping his mind focused on the one thing at the forefront of his mind; escape.

"Keep moving Toby," he yelled back. "Whatever happens, just get to the exit!"

OOC: Sorry, I've only just realised it was my turn. It's been crazy busy at work and my brain is mush.

Toby avoided the tank, dashing out the diagonal door, heading with Frank to the exit. "You don't have to tell me twice!" He called in reply, limping heavily and bleeding profusely.

Mr. Monday yells again, but between the distance and the buzz of the pursuing toys, Frank and Tobias can't understand what he's saying. Frank can hear the engine roar behind him, but he quickly escapes around the corner before the tank can catch up. The helicopter, meanwhile, pursues Tobias in a somewhat erratic path. Tobias throws open the door and runs out of the room just as the helicopter launches another barrage of rockets. The attacks miss, but he is showered with splinters of wood which are blown off the door frame. He continues running and the helicopter follows; he ducks through an ornate archway just in time to avoid machine gun fire from the trailing bird. As he passes the hallway Frank just came out of, the tank, which was lying in wait, unleashes a blast from its cannon. Tobias, luck on his side yet again, runs by just as the shell blows a hole two feet wide in the wall.


                               More Building                     |
             +------x----x-+----w---w---w---w---w---w---w---w----+          |
   Entrance  G             G         Black Brick Pathway         {          | Central
     <--     |             G                                     {          | Building
             |  +----------+  o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o  +-----{{{--+
             |  |   ____   |  _________________________________  |          |
       --w-+-+  x  /    \  x  |           Garden              |  |          |
           |    |  |    |  |  |                               |  |          |
           x    |  |    |  |  |    G = Glass Doors               |          +-
           | F  |  |    |  w  |    x = Door
    -------+  |S|  |    |  |  |    o = Obsidian colonnade
              |S|  |    |  |       w = Window
    -------+  |S|  |    |  w       { = Wrought-iron fence
           |  +-+  |    |  |       S = Stairs (down)
           |    |  \____/  |       s = Secret door
    -------+    x          w
                |          |
    -------+ T  +----xx----+
           |        T1     |       F = Frank
           |    +----xx----|       T  = Tobias
           +-  -+         /        M  = Mr. Monday
          /  H1  \___ss__+         H1 = Helicopter (M)
         x       /        \        T1 = Tank (M)
     ---/       x       A1 \       A1 = Artillery (F/T)
               /            \
     ----------|            |
               |            |
               |            |
               \            /
                \    M     /
                 \________/

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls A1 (10/10)
    Controls H1 (5/10)
    Controls T1 (10/10)
    Controls T2 (10/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)]

Toby ducked and dodged the incoming fire, muttering curses all the while. "Screw this!" He shouted to himself. He drew a hand across his face, arcing it down his body, and vanished.

Casting Invisibility, because I'm an idiotic twat who forgot he knew that spell.

Frank weaved to the right, putting the stairs between him and his pursuers. He continued running as fast as he could managed, gritting his teeth against the searing pain from his wounds.

OOC: Hopefully the stairs provide at least partial cover.

The helicopter zeros in on Tobias, and just as he is about to open fire, the mage shimmers out of view. The helicopter buzzes past him and follows the fleeing Frank. The helicopter launches another bottle rocket-sized missile at Frank, but the man dodges around the corner at the last minute, banging his shoulder on the wall in the process.

Luckily for Frank the end is in sight: the portal is within his site! The helicopter is still gaining ground, however...

                               More Building                     |
             +------x----x-+----w---w---w---w---w---w---w---w----+          |
   Entrance  G             G         Black Brick Pathway         {          | Central
     <--     | F           G                                     {          | Building
             |  +----------+  o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o  +-----{{{--+
             |  |   ____   |  _________________________________  |          |
       --w-+-+  x  /    \  x  |           Garden              |  |          |
           | H1 |  |    |  |  |                               |  |          |
           x    |  |    |  |  |    G = Glass Doors               |          +-
           |    |  |    |  w  |    x = Door
    -------+  |S|  |    |  |  |    o = Obsidian colonnade
             T|S|  |    |  |       w = Window
    -------+  |S|  |    |  w       { = Wrought-iron fence
           |  +-+  |    |  |       S = Stairs (down)
           |    |  \____/  |       s = Secret door
    -------+    x          w
                |          |
    -------+    +----xx----+
           | T1            |       F = Frank
           |    +----xx----|       T  = Tobias
           +-  -+         /        M  = Mr. Monday
          /      \___ss__+         H1 = Helicopter (M)
         x       /        \        T1 = Tank (M)
     ---/       x          \       A1 = Artillery (F/T)
               /            \
     ----------|            |
               |            |
               |            |
               \            /
                \          /
                 \________/

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls A1 (10/10)
    Controls A2 (10/10)
    Controls H1 (5/10)
    Controls T1 (10/10)
    Controls T2 (10/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)]

Toby makes his way after Frank, moving quickly, trying to bridge the distance between them.

Frank swore furiously as he knocked his shoulder hard against the wall. Behind him, he heard the dull crump as the rocket the helicopter had loosed at him slammed into the wall just behind him. He glanced back towards the corridor and realised he couldn't see Toby anywhere. Was he pinned down back there?

He needed to buy them some breathing room. Staggering to a halt, he drew his gun and pointed it right at the helicopter, imagining locking eyes with the pilot. He steadied his aim with both hands, lining his sights at the center of the helicopter.

"I'm done with this shit!" he shouted. "You're staring down the barrel of the largest anti aircraft cannon you'll ever damn see. Now, I'm wounded, so maybe you'll get a shot off at me before I send you to hell, and maybe that'll be enough to put me down, but better men than you have tried, son and I'm still standin'. So the thing is, you've got to ask yourself one question... 'Do I feel lucky?'."

"Well do ya, punk?"

The Clint quote might have suggested that Frank was joking, but the grim set of his jaw and look of cold hatred in his eyes suggested otherwise. After all, a man with a gun is a man with a gun, even if he's quoting from an old movie.

OOC: I'm hoping that as Monday is too far away to command the helicopter so I only have to beat the DC for the helicopter, rather than winning an opposed roll. I've spent an AP to boost my roll, just in case. Frank is just looking to intimidate the pilot enough to make him retreat.

I hope this works, because if it doesn't, I'm pretty sure Frank is toast.

Intimidate Roll Total: 24

12:35, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 5 using 2d6. Spent Action Point to boost Intimidate.
12:30, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 19 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs the Helicopter - Punk!.

Toby's invisible eyes widened as Frank turned and leveled the gun at his invisible forehead. He squeaked out a curse and dodged, hitting the wall hard and sending a painting crashing to the floor.

It must have been strange, not being able to see the agent of the thump.

The helicopter rears to a stop then, for lack of a better word, stares at Frank for a few seconds, as if considering what it should do. After a tense few seconds, the 'copter starts losing altitute until it eventually lands softly on the floor and its rotors start spinning down.

                               More Building                     |
             +------x----x-+----w---w---w---w---w---w---w---w----+          |
   Entrance  G             G         Black Brick Pathway         {          | Central
     <--     | F           G                                     {          | Building
             |T +----------+  o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o  +-----{{{--+
             |  |   ____   |  _________________________________  |          |
       --w-+-+  x  /    \  x  |           Garden              |  |          |
           | H1 |  |    |  |  |                               |  |          |
           x    |  |    |  |  |    G = Glass Doors               |          +-
           |    |  |    |  w  |    x = Door
    -------+  |S|  |    |  |  |    o = Obsidian colonnade
              |S|  |    |  |       w = Window
    -------+  |S|  |    |  w       { = Wrought-iron fence
           |  +-+  |    |  |       S = Stairs (down)
           |    |  \____/  |       s = Secret door
    -------+ T1 x          w
                |          |
    -------+    +----xx----+
           |               |       F = Frank
           |    +----xx----|       T  = Tobias
           +-  -+         /        M  = Mr. Monday
          /      \___ss__+         H1 = Helicopter (M)
         x       /        \        T1 = Tank (M)
     ---/       x          \       A1 = Artillery (F/T)
               /            \
     ----------|            |
               |            |
               |            |
               \            /
                \          /
                 \________/

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls A1 (10/10)
    Controls A2 (10/10)
    Controls H1 (5/10) (lost control)
    Controls T1 (10/10)
    Controls T2 (10/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Control H1 (5/10)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)]

Tobias sprinted for the secret door, prying it open and holding it for Frank. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" He said hurriedly. Once he was through, he slammed the door shut, casting the proper version of the spell he had used to pry it open. "Head for St. Elizabeths; direct line to a hospital..."

PM [Private to Tobias Byrne: If you remember, you locked the door in the open position using a casting of Hold Portal. The casting has since worn off (it's been longer than 4 minutes), but the door is still ajar.]

PM [Private to GM: That's good. I can still hold it open for him.]

Frank smiled, but the pain made it closer to a grimace.

"Smart thinkin'," he said. He stumbled slightly and caught himself against the wall, wincing between clenched teeth as the jolt tensed the remnants of muscle around his wounds. "You ready to get out of here? Let's move."

He holstered his weapon and pulled out his cell phone as he moved towards the door that had led back to St. Elizabeths. As soon as his cell had signal again, he would  call the Company. Never mind the change of being chewed out for failing. This needed backup.

Just as Frank and (invisible) Tobias step through the door into the florescent-lit hallway, one of the doors that used to open into the Void opens up and several dark-suited men step through wielding submachine guns. At first it appears as if Frank and Tobias are being attacked by life-sized army men, but they quickly breathe a sigh of relief as they recognize the Retcon Dons. Four of the men clear the doorway to reveal a fifth, this one carrying a medical bag instead of a weapon. He smiles and says, You called?

Frank looks down at his phone and sees that it hasn't acquired a signal yet.

The medical officer pulls out a syringe and grabs Frank's arm. This is a little experimental, but don't worry there's no short-term side effects. You won't feel completely better, but it'll do in a pinch.

After he injects Frank he holds up another syringe. Tobias? I know you're there somewhere. Come over here and you can have one too!

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Regain 10hp
10:47, Today: Facilitator rolled 10 using 1d6+6. ]

[Private to Tobias Byrne: Regain 9hp. Did you end up casting Hold Portal to seal the door shut, or did you just close it behind you?
10:49, Today: Facilitator rolled 9 using 1d6+6. ]

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls A1 (10/10)
    Controls A2 (10/10)
    Controls B1 (3/8)
    Controls B2 (3/8)
    Controls B3 (5/8)
    Controls H1 (5/10) (lost control)
    Controls T1 (10/10)
    Controls T2 (10/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Control H1 (5/10)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)]

Toby dropped the invisibility, limping over to the man and taking the injection. "They're coming," he said faintly. He pointed a finger, the door slamming shut of its own accord. "We should run or fortify..."

Casted Hold Portal on the door.

The injected substance took hold and Frank's expression relaxed as the pain that had been afflicting him started to subside. He could almost feel his wounded flesh knitting together again, the blood finally starting to clot around the wound.

As Toby finished speaking, he shook his head. "No, we're not running," he said, his expression one of grim determination. "If we run, Monday may snatch a child. We're not going to give him that chance. We go back and finish this, now."

He turned to the Dons.

"I know it isn't your usual job," he said. "But we sure could do with some backup if we're going back in there. I don't know if any of you have kids, but as I do, I can't think of nothing worse than my daughter being taken by this monster. Please help me ensure no more parents have to suffer that, regardless of what dimension they inhabit."

OOC: Diplomacy check of 18 to persuade the Dons to provide backup, even though that's not really their job.
01:28, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 18 using 1d20+12. Diplomacy to persuade the Dons.

One of the Dons turns to the rest and says, Well boys, what do you think? You've all read the sitrep and know what you would be getting yourselves into. I can't order you to go, but I'll take any volunteers.

The three men holding submachine guns rack their weapons, and the medic closes his kit, pulls out his sidearm, and loads a round into the chamber.

The head Don smiles and says, Gentlemen, it looks like we're all in. You two are lead investigators, so you take point and we'll provide backup.

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls A1 (10/10)
    Controls A2 (10/10)
    Controls B1 (8/8)
    Controls B2 (8/8)
    Controls B3 (3/8)
    Controls H1 (5/10) (lost control)
    Controls G1 (8/8)
    Controls T1 (10/10)
    Controls T2 (10/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Control H1 (5/10)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)]

Frank unholstered his weapon, touched the release catch and dropped the magazine into his left hand. He then dropped the partially spent magazine into his pocket and slid a fresh one home.

"Thank you Don," he said, nodding to him. "Let's end this."

He worked the action on his Five-SeveN and chambers a round. The movement was trained, automatic. His mind was focused on his daughter, on how the parents of the children Monday snatched must have suffered, on how those children must have suffered. He could feel the anger and indignation welling up inside him, like something alive, threatening to burst out. The pain in his shoulder was gone now.

"Toby, you ready?"

Toby was chambering rounds into his pistol, spinning it before snapping the chambers shut. He nodded. "Yup."

The man didn't have children, or even a girlfriend. Kids weren't on his horizon. Still, he knew what his partner was probably thinking. He shuddered in sympathy. "We'll get him," he said.

Tobias waves his hand to release the arcane hold on the door and it swings open to the distant sound of the insectile buzzing of a helicopter accompanied by the whistles, pops, and bangs of a raging battle. Suddenly there are two sharp bangs in quick succession and all of the sounds stop. Tobias, Frank, and the Dons head out and back around the corner, where they discover the source of the sound: the now-defunct helicopter they had left guarding the hallway, and the tank that took it down. As soon as they round the corner, the tank's main cannon wheels around and lowers, pointing directly at the group...

                               More Building                     |
             +------x----x-+----w---w---w---w---w---w---w---w----+          |
   Entrance  G             G         Black Brick Pathway         {          | Central
     <--     | E           G                                     {          | Building
             |DD+----------+  o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o   o  +-----{{{--+
             |DD|   ____   |  _________________________________  |          |
       --w-+-+TFx  /    \  x  |           Garden              |  |          |
           |    |  |    |  |  |                               |  |          |
           x    |  |    |  |  |    G = Glass Doors               |          +-
           |    |  |    |  w  |    x = Door
    -------+  |S|  |    |  |  |    o = Obsidian colonnade
              |S|  |    |  |       w = Window
    -------+  |S|  |    |  w       { = Wrought-iron fence
           |T1+-+  |    |  |       S = Stairs (down)
           |    |  \____/  |       s = Secret door
    -------+    x          w
                |          |
    -------+    +----xx----+
           |               |       F = Frank
           |    +----xx----|       T  = Tobias
           +-  -+         /        M  = Mr. Monday
          /      \___ss__+         H1 = Helicopter (M)
         x       /        \        T1 = Tank (M)
     ---/       x          \       A1 = Artillery (F/T)
               /            \
     ----------|            |
               |            |
               |            |
               \            /
                \          /
                 \________/

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls A1 (10/10)
    Controls A2 (10/10)
    Controls B1 (8/8)
    Controls B2 (8/8)
    Controls B3 (3/8)
    Controls B4 (3/8)
    Controls H1 (5/10) (lost control)
    Controls G1 (8/8)
    Controls T1 (9/10)
    Controls T2 (10/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Control H1 (2/10) (destroyed)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)]
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:03, Tue 01 Nov 2011.

"I'm getting sick of these damned army-men..." Tobias scowled, thrusting out his arm, two bolts of white magic the size of his fist hurtling at the tank to obliterate it.

16:36, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 7 using 2d4+2. Damage of the MAgic MIssile.

The bolts hit the tank square on. It's badly damaged and spewing dark black smoke into the hallway, but still mobile.

"Tell me about it," growled Frank, snapping off a shot at the minature vehicle. "This should finish it."


OOC: Attack roll: 15, Damage: 7

00:31, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 5 using 2d6. Action Points to boost attack roll.
00:30, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 10,7 using d20+7,2d8. Attack Tank, Damage

Frank's shot misses — the tank is surprisingly mobile, given its injured state — but two of the Dons step out and fire quick, controlled bursts from their weapons. One of the shots connects, sending tank bits flying across the hallway.

We had better keep moving, one of them says. Mr. Monday* probably heard the shots and we've lost our element of surprise.

* The Don uses the same foreign word that the Little Green Army Commander used earlier

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls A1 (10/10)
    Controls A2 (10/10)
    Controls B1 (8/8)
    Controls B2 (8/8)
    Controls B3 (3/8)
    Controls B4 (3/8)
    Controls H1 (0/10) (lost control)
    Controls G1 (8/8)
    Controls T1 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Controls T2 (10/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Control H1 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)]

Toby nodded, cocking his head a little at the strange wording. "Yeah." He said, gesturing to the far door. "last we saw he was in there." He moved forward, crouching behind the railing, providing cover for the others to move up.

"There's two doors in," explained Frank, in a low voice. "If he's still in there, the smart call is to split and enter through both at once. Then we take him down quickly and cleanly."

Frank gestures to the door to his left, the one that leads into the 'war room'.

"I'll go this way, I need two men to come with me. Toby, you keep on straight, two more Dons plus our medic should go with you."

His tone is commanding, but there is an edge to it, like he's a little disturbed by how easily he slips into the role.

[Private to GM: I originally wrote this with Frank being perfectly comfortable in command, and then remembered what had happened to the last set of men under his authority... oh dear.]

Tobias and Frank synchronize watches, as usual, they were already synchronized to the second, then take their respective positions. At the agreed upon time, they kick in the doors. Mr. Monday has retired to his throne, and has spent his time recruiting more troops to his cause.

Gentlemen, he says serenely. I thought I'd be seeing you again. And I see you brought friends. Well I've made some more of my own. Soldiers! Fire!

Roll Initiative! If you beat a 12 you can also make a post. Check out the current combat map for positions.

[Private to GM:
  Mr. Monday (24/37)
    Controls A1 (10/10)
    Controls A2 (10/10)
    Controls B1 (8/8)
    Controls B2 (8/8)
    Controls B3 (3/8)
    Controls B4 (3/8)
    Controls H1 (0/10) (lost control)
    Controls G1 (8/8)
    Controls T1 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Controls T2 (10/10)
  F+T
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Control H1 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)
    D1 (40/40)
    D2 (40/40)
    D3 (40/40)
    D4 (40/40)
    E  (40/40)]

Frank has his weapon drawn, both hands wrapped around the grip, in classic Weaver stance.

"Drop this creep," he snarls.

OOC: Initiative 8
01:50, Yesterday: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 8 using 1d20+3. Initiative Roll.
I can't remember, is Iniative something I can roll Action Dice to improve?

Tobias burst through the door, sized up the situation, and immediately went into action. Sidestepping to let others in, he points to the idling helicopter and a machine-gunner. "You two, ATTACK!"

17:37, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 27 using 1d20+9. initiative. rofl.

17:40, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 16 using 1d20+3. Charisma Machine Gun.
17:40, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 8 using 1d20+3. Charisma Helicopter.

H5 and M1, double move to control them both with a five-foot step to C2.

"The tide's turned Monday," growls Frank. "Choppers, drop that son of a bitch. You, tank, take out that artillery! You son, give that tank some support, take out the other piece!"


OOC: New Initiative: 18
18:46, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 10 using 2d6. Action Point to increase Initiative.

18:57, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 21 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs. Mr Monday to control G1. If successful, G1 should move to an appropriate range and attack A2.

18:57, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 23 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs. Mr Monday to control T2. If successful, T2 should attack A1.

18:56, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 17 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs. Mr Monday to control H4. If successful, H4 should fly and attack Mr Monday.

18:55, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 32 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs. Mr Monday to control H3. If successful, H3 should fly and attack Mr Monday

Hope that all makes sense.

There is a moment of silence as humans, plastic figures, and aluminum tanks size each other up. Suddenly the room explodes in gunfire, explosions, and shouts.

"You two, ATTACK!" shouts Tobias, sidestepping just in time to avoid an explosion in the place where his head just was. His intended targets stand where they were, unintimidated.

"The tide's turned Monday," growls Frank. "Choppers, drop that son of a bitch." Two helicopters spin up and lift off, moving like sluggish hornets. They pick up speed and fly towards Mr. Monday.

Meanwhile, one of the Dons steps from behind Frank and takes aim at the tank controlled by Mr. Monday. He lowers his weapon and lets off a clean, precise, 3-round burst; all three rounds hit the target, but bounce off harmlessly. Another Don peaks around from behind and says, Uh, he didn't mean it, honest! He was aiming for the guy right next to you! Want to join us? He cringes as he says it, but surprisingly it works! He then tells it to attack the tiny man holding the anti-tank missiles, and tells the grenadier to do the same. The tank's huge blast is easily dodged by the tiny man, and the grenadier ignores his orders to slay a comrade.

One of the Dons standing behind Tobias gets the idea: he coaxes the grenadier into attacking his former ally; there is a tiny pop and one of the bazooka-wielding men near Frank explodes from the waist. Only his feet and shins remain. The Don tries his luck with wrangling control of the artillery units, but he is unable to get them to switch sides.

The fourth Don yells, We need to get Mr. Monday! That's the only way to stop the army men! He takes aim and fires his own three round burst, but he gave Mr. Monday too much warning and he ducks behind the arm of his throne. You are going to have to try harder than that, boys, shouts Mr. Monday with glee. Unfortunately for him, the two helicopters commanded by Frank arrive and let off a barrage of rockets and missiles, many of which catch Mr. Monday. His clothes are smoldering and covered in blood, but he is still alive. And angry.

You don't think I've been around this long to be ended by the likes of YOU?! he bellows. I've been here since before you were a gleam in your pa's eye, and I'm certainly going to be here long after you are worm food for my rose garden! That you would have the gall to think you could take on a master of — amidst the din and chaos rings out a single shot. Mr. Monday is shocked, as a red dot appears in his forehead, not unlike a third eye, and a drop of blood wells up, then slowly drips down his forehead, in between his eyes, and beside his nose. No... he mutters, as he slumps down into his former throne.

The Dons' medic is left standing, gun drawn, with smoke coming from the barrel. I really don't like his speeches.

OOC: Congrats! And not a moment too soon! The threat is not over, however; the units formerly controlled my Mr. Monday are stunned for 1 round, but they still have their orders (kill you guys), and will follow them until killed or otherwise persuaded. Luckily the checks are easier, as they are no longer opposed by Mr. Monday (DC is the same as if they were neutral).

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: It's a move action to control a unit, and a free action (which requires a roll) to command one. So you had enough rolls, just too many actions. I took the rolls in the order you made them (32, 17, 23, 21) and applied them to the first 4 actions (control H3, command H3, control H4, command H4). Hopefully you are ok with that, but all of your rolls succeeded!]

[Private to GM: Init: Toby, Frank, Toby's Group, Frank's Group, Mr. Monday
  Mr. Monday (-8/37)
    Controls A1 (10/10)
    Controls A2 (10/10)
    Controls B1 (8/8)
    Controls B2 (8/8)
    Controls B3 (3/8)
    Controls B4 (0/8) (destroyed)
    Controls H1 (lost control)
    Controls H3 (lost control)
    Controls H4 (lost control)
    Controls G1 (lost control)
    Controls T1 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Controls T2 (destroyed)
  F+T+Co.
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Control H1 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Control G1 (8/8)
    Control H3 (10/10)
    Control H4 (10/10)
    Control T2 (10/10)
    D1 (40/40)
    D2 (40/40)
    D3 (40/40)
    D4 (40/40)
    E  (40/40)]

Tobias grimaced at the failure of his words against the army men, and the lack of his ability to really DO anything in this combat thus far. Still, he could at least mop up the last of the army men.

He thrust out his hand, shooting two balls of force at some of the remaining troops. Overkill. Massive, massive overkill, but it was better than nothing.

My last Magic Missile, two bolts, one at A1 and one at A2.
09:56, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 5 using 1d4+1.
09:56, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 2 using 1d4+1.

Frank's expression is one of grim satisfaction as the Don's shot drops Monday. Now it's just a case of mopping up.

"Right, listen up!" he snarls at the bazoooka team who still seem determined to carry out Monday's orders. "Stand down or we put you down. You get one chance."

There isn't time to try and intimidate the last of the men armed with bazookas. He orders the Grenadier who finished off the last one to put an end to the one at his feet.

He commands the two helicopters to come about and attack the artillery pieces that Toby has targeted with magic missiles. He tells the tank to lay down fire on the second of the artillery pieces.

OOC: I didn't realise Toby was targeting the artillery until after I'd rolled the dice with those descriptors, so amending my intended target for intimidate to the Bazooka guys, if that's OK?

13:02, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 26 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs G1 (Command). If successful, attack B3.
13:01, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 21 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs H4 (Command). If successful, attack A1
13:01, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 32 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs H3 (Command). If successful, attack A2
12:58, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 24 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs T2 (Command). If successful, attack A2.
12:49, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 20 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs (amended) B2 (to Control).
12:48, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 7 using 2d6. Action Point to improve Intimidate roll - 21 total
12:45, Today: Francis 'Frank' Decourcey rolled 14 using 1d20+13. Intimidate vs (amended) B1 (to Control).

I got confused between 'command' and 'control', but think I've got it right this time. By my count that's two control actions (1 move, 1 move in place of an attack) and four command actions (Cha bonus of +4).

Toby sends two ICBMs sailing towards the mini cannons, but much to his surprise they are both still standing once the smoke clears. Frank's tank takes out one of the artillery in a single blast, but both of his helicopters fire everything they've got at the other one and it survives. Several of the Dons shoot controlled bursts at it, and one of them connects, sending the piece skittering across the floor. Meanwhile, Frank's grenadier places another well-aimed shot and blasts the remaining pieces of the bazooka man to smithereens. The remaining pieces, finally tired of this game, start running towards the door and back to their box.

OOC: Congrats! All enemies have been destroyed or turned.

[Private to Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: Yes, you did it right. When I originally came up with these guys I didn't think I'd need to write a whole new rulebook for them! Also, your first shot against A2 destroyed it, so I redirected all other attacks for A1 towards A1 (the next target on the list).]

[Private to GM: Init: Toby, Frank, Toby's Group, Frank's Group, Mr. Monday
  Mr. Monday (-8/37)
    Controls A1 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Controls A2 (10/10) (destroyed)
    Controls B1 (lost control)
    Controls B2 (lost control)
    Controls B3 (0/8) (destroyed)
    <s>Controls B4 (0/8) (destroyed)
    Controls H1 (lost control)
    Controls H3 (lost control)
    Controls H4 (lost control)
    Controls G1 (lost control)
    Controls T1 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Controls T2 (destroyed)
  F+T+Co.
    Control A1 (10/10) (lost control)
    Controls B1 (8/8)
    Controls B2 (8/8)
    Control H1 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Control H2 (0/10) (destroyed)
    Control G1 (8/8)
    Control H3 (10/10)
    Control H4 (10/10)
    Control T2 (10/10)
    D1 (40/40)
    D2 (40/40)
    D3 (40/40)
    D4 (40/40)
    E  (40/40)]

As the soldiers retreated, Frank drew his sidearm and approached Mr Monday's throne, levelling his weapon at the still form of Mr Monday. He wanted to make absolutely certain that the man was dead before they left.

"Medic?" he asked, looking back for the Don's medic. "Check that this man is dead, please."

If Mr Monday made even the slightest movement, Frank was ready to double tap him and finish the job.

[Private to GM: OOC: Readied action to double tap attack Mr Monday if he does anything to suggest he is still a threat. Frank isn't looking to execute Monday, so if he's still alive, the aim will be to restrain him for transportation, not to kill him.]

The medic holsters his weapon, picks up his kit, and run towards the fallen foe. He dons latex gloves and puts two fingers to Mr. Monday's neck, feeling for a pulse. After a tense few seconds, he shakes his head.

It doesn't look like we'll be getting any more answers out of him. He's — shit! I think I felt something!

The medic furiously rummages through his kit to bring out a stethoscope. It's faint, but there's definitely a pulse! It doesn't seem to be getting weaker —or stronger, for that matter— I think he's stable for now, but he's not waking up any time soon. The bullet hit dead center; he's got to be the luckiest son of a bitch there is. If I get some fluids in him he'll probably make it back to headquarters, but he's going to need a lot of work and a whole lot more luck before he can talk again.

Toby came up beside Frank, looking at the prone form of Mr. Monday. "I'm not sure we'd want him inside headquarters..." He said softly. He let that decision to Frank as he knelt and examined one of the destroyed army men. What sort of magic had made these things do what they did?

10:21, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 35 using 1d20+16. Knowledge Arcan Lore; closest thing, I think.

"I agree it could be dangerous," replied Frank, still keeping his gun trained on Monday for the moment. "But I don't see an alternative. We're not executing him, and I don't see that we can just leave him here. We don't know who else is in this place - he may have allies who will fix him up."

He doesn't sound like he fully agrees with what he is saying. For a moment, he seems to be considering shooting Monday. Then he lowers his weapon, flicks on the safety and slips it back into the holster.

"If he recovers, he could start taking children again. This ain't my call though. We should contact John Burns for further instruction. We were asked to stop this, and we've done that - time to go home."

He turned to the Dons. "Can you restrain this piece of shit?" he asked. "We're taking him back through the portal. What happens then is up to the boss."

Despite the medic's protesting, one of the Dons ratchets handcuffs tightly onto Mr. Monday, just in case he wakes up. Two of them run back down the hall and return several minutes later with a long stretcher, and help the medic transfer Mr. Monday onto it, all the while the other Dons keep watch; they all appear to have an unscratchable itch on their right index fingers....

Meanwhile, Tobias observes the Army Men as they file back towards the Cabinet Room and back into their somewhat melted bucket.

[Private to Tobias Byrne: You can't quite figure out how they work. They are definitely non-magical, and they aren't mechanical, but they aren't exactly living either, at least not in the breathing, eating, mating sort of way.]

Tobias keeps one eye on the Dons, but can't help but follow the army men into their war-room.

"Say, Gentlemen," he opens, wondering if they'll even listen. "Monday is gone. Done for. We've... killed your commander, sorry about that, and there are a lot of you injured or out of action." He wasn't entirely certain whether they could even BE permanently killed. "What would you say to coming back with us, working under the Company? They're a cushy gig, very open to unusual members, and I'm sure there would be compensation of... some sort." He wasn't sure what they would do with money; buy barbie dolls?

"And we could get you a new bucket, I'm sure."

20:34, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 2 using 1d6. Action Die.
20:34, Today: Tobias Byrne rolled 19 using 1d20+3. Diplomacy.
Total of 21. Worth a shot.

One of the machine gun-wielding men pauses at the edge of the overturned bucket. Work for your group, you say? I have to admit, a steady gig would be nice... and a new bucket? I think we could be persuaded if the terms are right. Could you do us a favor and maybe give us a lift? It might take us a while to get there on our own...

Tobias nodded. "Not at all, gentlemen..."

Thus, he was plus a slightly melted toy bucket when they returned to the Company...