Malachai, you wake feeling good.  You're not sure what exactly happened, but you faintly recall a large block of stone tumbling out of the cloud, and well, that's it.  That plus some really weird dreams.

You're laying in tall, brown grass, several feet high.  The temperature is warm, and the sky is near cloudless.

Playtester

I stand up, rubbing my head.  I think I was supposed to remember something important... but what?  Checking my sheath, I'm glad to see my trusty knife is still there.  Old faithful, you'll never leave me, will you?  Hehe, look at me, talking to my knife.  Realizing the grass came up to my chest, I began randomly picked a derection and began hacking that way with my knife.  "Now this is just messed up.  I hope I see some sort of landmark soon I could use to get my bearings."

Time for a GE roll. "14".

After an hour, you come up on a set of wagon tracks cutting through the grass.  Ruts in the dirt.  In the far distance to the West are mountains, and the East is more grass.

A rabbit is sitting in the road chewing some grass.

Playtester

Stepping into the wagon tracks, I stumble a bit, swearing under my breath.  Looking ahead, I see the rabbit and lick my lips hungrily.  It's like I haven't eaten in days.  I pull out my knife and advance to it slowly.

OoC: I assume you're gonna role here.

Average agility and above average with a knife, but still an amateur so 1@5(+15) and 1@8(+18) is base plus a mod for the world's tech bias +6, and minus for the rabbit's size -8, and I know you don't understand much of this, and I'm a lot iffy on it myself, but that gives you...31%, and a 6% chance of a botch.

"78"

You miss badly, and the rabbit sprints away. Sorry.

Playtester

OoC: O_o

That makes no sense whatsoever to me, lol.  78?  I figured that would be good.

:D

IC:  "Damnit, thought I had it.  Ah, well."  I continue to hack my way through the grass, attempting to find a landmark of some sort.

In Multiverser, roll below the target number, but as close to it as possible.  So your ideal number would have been "31" for maximum damage. A "1" would have been minimal success (but since its a rabbit that would have been enough to incapacitate it). A "95" or higher, and you would have done something annoying or even dangerous to yourself with your knife as you lunged at Lunch on Wheels.  Most likely you would have simply dropped the knife.

So you are crossing the road, and heading deeper into the grass? What of the mountains?

In any case, I'm assuming you are keeping an eye out for game.  So a modified GE roll of 1+2d10 (since game is plentiful). "17".  It takes another hour before you come up on a large, pure black snake slipping through the grass in front of you.

Playtester

Realizing that snakes are dangerous, and not sure if this one is poisonous or not, I climb a nearby tree.  When the snake passes below it, I fall down the 5 feet, aiming to drive my knife through the area just behind its head.

There is an infrequent tree or two, but mostly grasslands.  Flat, windy, lush grass. You clamber up in the one tree within a mile of you, and ambush the snake.

My dice are cold today. "82", but now you are on top of it, and locked in close quarters battle with it. "50" with a sit mod bonus is a good hit.  You take its head off with one blow.

Its about five feet long and as thick as a baseball bat. Black skin. No rattle.

Playtester

That also gives you a +@1 to your knife skill boosting it to 1@10 since this is a new use for your knife (I'm assuming you haven't been hunting with it).  Next step up will be 2@1 which would make you a low professional with a knife instead of a high amateur as you currently are.

But I'll try not to let the rules get too much in the way of the game.

Playtester

Having killed the snake, I hack off a couple branches from the tree and set up a fire.  Looking around, I find a rock and some flint, and begin striking them together.  A spark flies up with every strike, and I know it's only a matter of time before it lights the kindling on fire.

OoC: Being around bombs and fire a lot, mebe my character could get some sort of knowledge bonus in the roll you do for the fire... or whatever.

The question is, is there any flint in the area to be found?  I think its kinda iffy as you are on a dry grassy plain with very thick grass roots, but its possible.

so, GE roll. "23". No flint.

But you do find a rock, and you have a knife. It can work, but it will make it harder.

Your bombs skill would be high or low amateur?

Fire, I'll give you at 1@8 which is high amateur so: Fire-making 1@8 Technology Area.

So Agility 1@5 + Fire-making 1@8 plus a lot of persistence +20 and minus inappropriate tools -8 plus world tech bias of +6 so 48% to succeed. "16".  That will raise your Fire-making to 1@9 for a new use (not every time you succeed is a "new use", but if its a different enough that before it counts).

You start your fire, and soon have a snake cooking.  It takes a lot longer than you expect to cook a snake on a stick, but its well along when you hear a voice sing out from aways back.

"Hello the camp. Mind I come sit for a spell? I saw your smoke."

Playtester

I turn around and look for the person speaking.  "Yeah, sure.  If you want some grub, this thing's pretty big, so there's enough for you to have some."

OoC: Didn't really understand that, but let's go with that, lol.  Bomb skills would most definetely be high amateur, if not borderline professional.  You get a list of the rules somewhere that you could mebe PM me?  That'd be nice.

^_^

A cowboy, eight feet tall, and bedecked with guns and knives strides up to your fire.

"Well, thank you stranger. Kind of you. My names Bill, whats yours?"

He sits down and pulls out a metal plate from a sack on his shoulder, and cuts himself off a couple feet of snake.

"King snake, not bad eating.  My horse, Widowmaker, threw me about a dozen miles back, I've been tracking the ornery critter for a few hours."

OOC: Not really. The Big Black Book of MV is all that you'll need to run the game (the designers did not believe in the WWolf philosophy of producing new books that you had to have to play the game), but then it totes out to 500+ pages.  Most of thats skill lists, but still...not something I can pm to you.

If you want one, you can check B&N or Google Multiverser.

OK, we'll give you 2@1 Bomb-making.

Playtester

"The name's Malachai, pleasure to meet you."  I cut myself a couple feet of snake as well, and take a bite out of it.  The skin's a little tough, but otherwise it's okay.  "You say you're looking for a horse?  Sorry, haven't seen one.  I'm sure he couldn't of gotten too far, though.  So... how'd you end up here?"

"I was cutting down from Montana to see and maybe fight Johnny Kaw of Kansas having nothing better to do since the cattle drives are over for the year, and thought I'd check out some of the twisters of this here Great Plains, and then Widowmaker, well he saw a gopher and spooked while I was looking through my fancy dandy telescope at a couple interesting clouds."

He pulls out a stone jar of what he says is hot sauce, and asks if you want some as he dowses his snack with it.  A drop hits a piece of wood and eats away at it.

Playtester

"Hehe, no thanks.  I like spicy food, but not that much.  So you're saying you were born in this world?  Perhaps you could answer a few questions then."  I rip a chunk of meat from the snake and munch away.

"Pardon my saying this, Malachai, but what an odd way of putting it. Of course I'm native to this world.  I was born in the back of a Conestoga wagon and fell out, got rescued and raised by cougars.

So whats your questions?"

He says after he finishes his snake.

Playtester

"Are there any major landmarks near this area?  Preferably something nice and tall, so I can get my bearings.  Yeah, I suppose it is a slightly odd question, but all I remember is... well... waking up in the middle of this grass field."  I finish off the hunk of snake I had and cut myself another foot, starting to feel full.

"Iffen you're willing to help me track down Widowmaker, I should be able to take you over to Pike's Peak?"

You finish off the snake, after all it was oooonly five feet loooooooong.

Or as Bill puts it.

"Jist a little un."

Playtester

"Sure thing.  I'm more than willing to help you find your horse.  I mean, how hard can it be?"  I stand up and smolder the campfire with dirt, careful not to make too much smoke billow and making sure the long grass didn't ignite.  "Let's get moving.  We might as well continue in the direction you were following earlier."

You and Bill hike about five more miles with him pointing out trail sign, and you see the white stallion.  Bill's plan is for you to circle around, and spook Widowmaker back toward him, because he says Widowmaker is too contankerous to let him do it fast, unless you want to be out on the prairie two days as Bill sweet-talks his stubborn stallion into letting him get close enough.

Whatdya' do?

Playtester

I nod my agreement and move along the edge of the bush until I reach the opposite side of Bill.  Charging out of the bush, I begin yelling and waving madly, running towards Widowmaker.

Widowmaker scrambles away from you, and charges right into Bill's lasso.  A few minutes later you are heading west at fifty miles per hour heading for Pike's Peak.  The pace does not let up and the Great Plains melts away as you head toward the Rockies.

Playtester

"Hehe, this sure beats walking," I say as we continue to the peak.

You head up the side of Pike's Peak (11,000 feet tall), and Bill agrees fervently.

"No decent cowboy will walk even across teh street if he can help it."

The terrain gets rockier, and colder, and then you come to a flat area, and here Bill starts to put on some speed.

"Have to really get moving.  Big jump ahead."

You see he'll be jumping from one minor peak to the central part of the mountain.  It looks like a sixty foot leap with a fall of several hundred feet below it.

Playtester

"Umm... Bill... you're not planning on jumping that, are you?" I ask nervously, gulping.  "There is no way in hell I'd make a jump like that."

"You bet, Widowmaker here can jump clean to the Moon.  Yehaaa!"

He spurs the horse onward, and you're doing thirty miles per hour, and you have about five seconds...

Playtester

"All right, then."  I hang onto Widowmaker's saddle tight, not wanting to fall off.

Its a soaring leap that lands you twenty feet further on the other side.  An eighty feet jump should be impossible...

You and Bill charge up the rest of the way to the top of the mountain.

The Plains and much of the Rockies spread out below you.  What are you looking for?

Playtester

I look around for any sort of temple-ish place, something where a leader would hang out.  Almost like I'm still searching for something familiar.

There is no temple or other structure on top of Pike's Peak, or any any other of the mountains within sight.  But there is a railroad on the next mountain over with a steam engine train choo-chooing up the mountain.

Playtester

"There, the train.  Let's get on the train.  If we stay on it long enough, we're bound to end up in a city of some sort."

OoC: If you could just fast-forward to the point where we get off at the station, that'd be nice.

:D

You hurtle down the mountain, through a valley around the other side of mountain the train was on, and up another mountain to catch up with the train.  Then Bill leaps his horse up on top of a passenger car, as the train charges along, and skids to a stop.

"Well, if you want to go to a town, then why don' tyou get off here? I'm not much in favor of towns."

Later you arrive in Bad Water which is a small Western town on the side of a mountain, facing the Great Plains.  The people here look well-armed, and awfully thin.

PT

"Kay, thanks for all the help you've given me."  I jump off the train at the town and begin wandering around.  Seeing a saloon-type building, I walk in to the sound of drinking and gambling.  Taking a stool, I speak to the bartender.  "An ale, please, or whatever's the equivalent in these parts."

"Beer, son.  But we're plumb out. Ol' Geronimo has this town locked up tighter than a drum. He wants us to move out.  Wants to steal our silver."

He hands you a glass of muddy water.  All the guys in the room have a decidedly gaunt and listless appearance.

One of them walks up to you.

"Are you a hero? I hear tell on the mine train that you got on the train with Pecos Bill.  I hear tell he done tried to rope a tornado again.  I expect he'll get it one of these days."

The guy sits down, too tired to stand up.

Playtester

"No, I'm no hero.  I'm just trying to figure out where I am.  I know how strange that sounds, but I can't really remember anything past this morning."  I take a gulp of the muddy water and cringe a little, the mud sliding down my throat slowly.  "Where is this Geronimo?  If he's trying to force you off your land, it isn't that hard to kill one man if you have 30, even if the 30 are weaker."

"Must have got hit in the head.  Might want Doc to look at you.  He don't charge much."

They tell you a little about where you're at.  The town's chief claim to fame is there's a silver mine that was far back up in the Rocky Mountains, inaccessible, and so they built a railroad from here.  And then they found here had silver too.

And of course, Paul Bunyan worked at the other silver mine for a while.

Geronimo is on the thousand foot jut just north of town. On top of the would-be silver mine.

"You don't understand sir, Geronimo is a legend. Like Paul Bunyan, Pecos Bill, Johnny Kaw, Mike Fink, Sluefoot Sue, Sally Thunder Lightning Whirlwind Crockett, and all the rest.  If an ordinary man could stop one of them, why he might not be ordinary after all.  He can shoot you dead while still sleeping, and he can hear us talking now, and bullets are like bee stings to him."

It gets them going.  They start telling you stories of American Tall Tales, but with a key difference.  They don't seem to be pulling your leg.  They seem dead serious when they tell you how someone can jump from hilltop to hilltop and so forth.

PT

I finish off the glass of water and set it down.  Listening to their stories, I keep a serious face outwards.  However, in my mind, I'm constantly thinking it's a load of bull.  "Listen, sure, one man can do all that, but he's STILL A MAN.  No different from you and me.  He bleeds.  We bleed.  If he bleeds, that means he's a man and can be killed.  I got a question: is there any sort of servants or people like that who work for him who hate him?  If I can get the right materials and get into his house, I can blow him to kingdom come.  And, if that isn't an option, poisons are relatively easy to make as well... at least... the theory behind them is."

They're willing to make a collection and get you a gun, a rifle, and some dynamite with fuse string, if you're interested in leading the expedition.  They ask you how many sticks you think you'll need.

They imagine some of his American Indian tribe hate him, but they don't know any of the political details of a tribe.  They do know there's a favored campsite for Geronimo's tribe about two days travel further into the Rocky Mountains.

PT

I tell them that I'm more than willing to lead the expedition.  I tell them to get at least a dozen sticks, but more would only be better.  If they get enough, it would be possible to mostly surround the house with dynamite and merely put 2 or 3 sticks inside.  "If this man is as powerful as you say, I'd rather not meet him face to face."

They give you twenty sticks of dynamite, three yards of cord, an oil lantern, a Colt revolver and a holster with belt with twenty bullets in the belt.

You lead a group of ten men uphill.  Some of the others are laughing at your group in open expectation that you all are dead men.

You climb the hill, and see a tipi with a campfire on the hilltop.  No sign of Geronimo.

PT

I order the men to get low, and then proceed to give them orders.  I tell two men to circle the encampment to the right, and two others to circle to the left.  I tell another two men to watch the rear.  I order one man to get as close to the camp as possible, but to never go out of cover.  The remaining three men stay behind me.

The one I told to go ahead lays flat on his belly and then slowly crawls forward, inching his way through the long grass towards the camp.  I stay where I am, waiting for the scouts to return.

There's someone moving in the rocks ahead of you (between the tipi and you).  At least it could be.  Could be a snake too.  A pebble was knocked loose.

PT

I pull out my knife in one hand and hold the pistol's grip in the other, my finger ready to go to the hammer but still a couple inches away, to prevent misfiring.  I inch my way towards where the noise had came from.

You inch your way out, and still dislodge a rock.  But your opponent in the field of small rocks does so as well.  Both of you freeze, or you think he does.

What now?

PT

I continue to inch my way forwards, ready for whatever the thing was.

OoC: A bit of an off-day with creativity, hmmm?

OOC: Both of you had really bad dice rolls, not botches, but pretty bad.  And this is hunting, stalking, its supposed to be slow, slow and then bang fast.

IC:

You slip forward on your belly between the rocks, searching for him, finding nothing.  Wondering if you noticed a scorpion, you hear a sudden thump behind you and turn back to the guys behind you to see what they think.  They're not moving.  All six of them.  That leaves four that are still awake, the ones you sent flanking...last you checked.

PT

Darnit... what the heck is going on here?  I'd better plant this stuff and leave.  Moving backwards, I get a fair distance away from whatever was there.  Then, I find a different path and began moving slowly into the centre of the base.  I planned to set the dynamite in the centre, light the fuse, and then run as fast as I could away... after making sure the scouts were dead or alive, of course.

The scouts are alive, and they return to say they haven't seen Geronimo enough to take a clear shot at him.  Just flickers of movement.

You slip forward, and start placing your explosives, and this time you slip so quietly you startle even yourself.  You crawl past a snake which does not even seem aware you are there.

You hear a voice from the other side of the tipi.

"You are a brave with a strong heart, but even though Geronimo is clumsy today, have a nasty hangover, I will still find you.  Add your scalp to my collection.  What say we finish this like men? Stand up and face me.  This sun is harsh on my head after all the liquor last night.  We get it over with.  Otherwise, I'll stalk you like a cougar stalks a fawn."

PT

Realizing that that was the voice of Geronimo, and realizing that, since he was drunk, he would be a madman in a knife-fight, I finish setting the explosives, wind off the fuse, and light it.  The fuse began sparking, and it moved down the line towards the dynamite.  "Run!" I whispered to the other men.  We charged down the hill as fast as we could.  Just before we hit the bottom, the dynamite went off in a massive wave of heat and fire.  Smoldering rocks pelted all around us, and we covered our heads to protect us.

Within a minute, the rocks had stopped falling.  One of the men brought his head out from his shirt.  "Did... did we... did we... kill him..." he asked warily.  "I think we did.  No way could anyone of survived that blast."

As you say.

And then flying overhead in a great arc, across the town comes a human figure hollering in pain, and with smoke from teh explosion trailing off him, Geronimo crashes into the top of the hill to the south side of town, well over four hundred feet away.

Impossibly, he staggers to his feet, and then falls again.  By all that you know of explosives, he should be chunks of meat right now.  And flying across town and smacking into a hill like that would kill anyone.  Except apparently Geronimo.

The other men, four of them still, are ready to keep on going with you.

PT

"Let's keep moving."  I pull my blade out in my left hand and hold the pistol in my right.  I start jogging towards where Geronimo had hit, and the men run behind me.  We arrive at the scene and begin looking for Geronimo.

You run up the hill with your near-starved men wavering in their tracks to find Geronimo sitting atop a rock.  His skin is abraded, and covered in black soot, and he's cradling a broken arm.

"All right, you won, white man. You can have these mountains. What's your name?"

PT

"My name is Malachai.  I have one question for you: why are you trying to force these people off their land?"

"I let them have this village, they expand, soon they chase my people off.  My people have a village not far from here.  So I try to starve them out, but they are most stubborn.  Not sure why.  Maybe I should have just killed them all, but I was trying to be kind, and not provoke a war."

PT

"All they wanted was the mine.  What was the problem with that?  I mean... what use would you even have with the mine?  It's in human nature to expand and conquer.  Perhaps you failed to take that into account."

"Mine, what are you talking about?  I see they come, build a town in my mountains.  Its human to want to keep what is yours is it not?  You have beaten me Malachai, and so your people win, but I am not happy.  Do not ask me to be so."

PT

"Hmm... of course.  You have admitted defeat.  You have behaved honourably.  Here, let me help you to your feet."  I reach out my hand and grab Geronimo's wrist.  I pull him up from his sitting position then release him.  "Go on.  I will trouble you no more.  Matters have been settled.  I wish you good fortune with your future endavours."  I turn around and look at the other men; they're standing their gaping.

"Geronimo showed honour in admitting defeat, I am one who respects that."

The men are a bit startled, and one says something that sounds like 'The only good Indian is a dead 'un.' but its low voiced.

The others shrug, not overly bothered by it, and one out and out says he's glad because he'd hate to kill a legend like that.  Why Geronimo was known to kill buffalo by picking them up over his head, and throwing them to the ground.

Geronimo turns back toward you, and shrugs a bit.

"Because you are polite, white man, I will tell you a secret.  There is nothing a man of skill cannot accomplish.  This is my secret.  Figure it out if you are wise enough."

He then vanishes. Not steps behind a rock, but out and out vanishes.

Playtester

"Hmm.  Well... I suppose we might as well return to town."  I lead the men back to the bar in the town, and we announce Geronimo's leaving.

You get back to the bar, and make your announcement.  Everyone cheers, and then loads up to go hunt some buffalo.  A few want to get to work on their mines, but the general consensus is FOOD!

And, you're the most popular guy in town right now.  Everyone's promising to do something nice for you tommorrow, as soon as they get their bellies filled, and then sleep the feast off.

Playtester

Bored, I decide to go out with the men on a hunt.  We arrive at the planes and begin searching for a herd.

OoC: You're gonna have to give me a situation.  I dunt know what the general direction you want me to take from here is, or if you even have one, hehe.

You and the men get some hunting and some skinning in, and enjoy quite a feast.  They spend the time not eating telling stories of great heroes such as Paul Bunyan, and Pecos Bill, and their very own Mr. Malachai.

OOC: I usually have some vague idea of a plot, but mostly I let the player character show his initiative, and occasionally toss obstacles in his path, and so forth.  Its on the far end of the scale from railroading.  It helps to pick a goal you want to accomplish and then work toward that.

This world is an opportunity for you to pick up legendary skills, and have short episodic adventures like the one you just finished.

These stories they are telling you of Paul Bunyan and so forth are all true in this world.  After all, a normal horse can't jump a sixty foot chasm, and no one can survive twenty sticks of dynamite, and being flung five hundred feet through the air with only a broken arm to show for it.  Its the 1860's and Pecos Bill is soon going to lasso a twister and create yet another Grand Canyon.  Johnny Kaw really did plow up all of Kansas and it got its black dirt from the dirt pile created when one of the earlier Grand Canyon's was created by Paul Bunyan.

You've already picked up one legendary skill, not realizing it, but you'd be able in a highly magical world to possibly sneak up on a ninja.

But, if you want, I can verse you out of here, and drop you into a world that is more structured.

Playtester

OoC: Sneak up on a ninja?  SWEET!

:D

Meh, whatever.  When I leave this world, I wanna go down in a blaze of glory.  You can pick when you want me to, I don't care too much.

:D

IC:  The next day, I ask the men for a horse and supplies.  They supply them readily.  Before I set off, I check over my inventory.  Besides what I came to this world with, I have the pistol and its ammo, the lantern, several waterskins, a pound or so of jerked buffalo, and a pouch of black pouder.  I leave the town on the horse a little shakily, un-used to riding.  Outside of town, I lead the horse through the fields were we had hunted yesterday, and then keep going.

You also have a Winchester rifle with scabbard and two hundred rounds for it.

You head your horse East, and for five days, you practise your shooting, and living in the country, and then you see a tower in the distance.  So you ride toward it all day, and the next day, and finally arrive to see the world's tallest windmill, near two thousand feet high, and piles of logs at its base, and a small house, and what looks like the unlucky builder is hanging on for dear life to the blades of the windmill as it spins around.

A lady comes out of the house with some lemonade, and then fluttering her eyelashes ask if you could do her a small favor.

"Could you rescue my husband?"

PT

"Yeah.  Sure thing, lady... I'll try."  I gulp as I tie my hourse to a tree branch and then walk towards the base of the windmill.  "Hey!"  I shout to the man stuck above.  "How did you get up there?"

Your voice swells in your chest, and the noise comes out like a bullhorn.

His voice comes back just as loud.

"I was trying to grease the axle. Slipped.  Grabbed teh first thing I could. Ah, I ran really fast and kept scrambling up the side of a pole."

PT

"All right, then.  Just hold on another couple minutes."  Looking around, I spot the pole he was talking about.  Backing away around 20 feet from it, I take a massive running jump and begin scrambling up it, like he had.  The bolts that connected it to the windmill were massive, and made excellent hand and footholds.  Within a couple minutes, I had made it up to near where he was; he was still a good 10 feet or so from me, though.  "Crap... just hold on.  Once it spins you near me, jump onto my back.

You begin scrambling and scrabbling up with many of the bolts too far apart to be much help, but despite that you make it up anyways.  You pass through a low-hanging cloud on the way up, and get to the top where the man does as you say, and lands with a thump on your back.

You start to climb down, and at the bottom deliver the man to his happy wife.  They insist you stay and have dinner with them especially as a storm is coming up.

Looking back at teh tower as you enter teh home, you are frankly astonished that you succeeded.  But evidently there are less restraints on what you can do here than elsewhere.

PT

I accept the invitation gratefully and move into the house.  I find a chair and sit down, while the wife moves on to cook the food.  "I suppose I should let you know who I am.  My name's Malachai.  And your two's is...?"

"I'm Johnny Kaw, and this here is my wife, Charity."

They are cheerful, amiable people easy with a laugh, and the food, especially after cooking buffalo over a campfire is delicious.  But all during dinner, a storm keeps coming in.

And then you hear loud creaks from outside.

"Johnny dear, I believe the windmill you built to refill the Mississippi is about to topple over.  Now it could be just feminine hysterics, but I would feel better if you took a look."

Its raining heavy outside.

Playtester

"You're refilling the Mississippi?  Why would you need to do that?  I mean, it's one of the biggest rivers there is.  If you're gonna go out, though, I'll come with you."

"The Big Blue Ox got loose, and drank it dry."  Johnny Kaw says with disgust.

"Now I can't send my wheat down the river from my Kansas ranch."

He leads you out into the rain, and you see its definitely a blustery, rain-soaked night with sudden gusts of wind that creak the windmill.

"Now grab on good, and my wife will be along to tie you on.  We'll try to hold it down."

PT

This place is just getting stranger and stranger.  Horses that can jump 50 feet, people who can survive massive explosions, and now Paul Bunyan's real.  I shake my head in amazement and grab on to the windmill as best as I could.  With the massive size of the thing, I don't see what good I can really do.

After a bit, as the windmill shudders, Kaw calls you over to him.

"Look Malachai, in order to do this, you have to have at least a minimum of belief.  You have to say, this is true, and then act like it will succeed, and keep it in your mind that you plan for it to succeed, even if most of your mind is convinced it won't.

You can have faith that God will grant you strength like Samson, or that you are an American and thus can do anything, but without that, you are useless to me. Perhaps you are not skilled enough in the commission of great deeds to do this.  It took me a long while before I lifted my first mountain on my shoulders.  I had to do a lot of lesser things first. And frankly, even if we do manage to grab hold of this with the strength of ten giants, I'm not sure we'll be able to hold this, but well I'm going to try, and if I get blown clear up to Canada then so be it."

PT

"Canada, eh?  Too cold for me, I'd rather stay here.  All right, then, I'll do my best."  I hold the windmill with a renewed zeal, hoping the storm would pass soon.

You try, and nothing much seems to happen, and as the wind sweeps in and the windmill sways, you grit your teeth, and try harder.  And the foot thick hardwood underneath your fingers crunches, leaving an indentation an inch deep that matches your hands.

A manic laughter bubbles up from outside you and into you, fueling this incredible surge of strength.

1@2 Magic Skill Temporarily Increase Strength to Superhuman Levels.

PT

A surge of energy rushes through my body like an instant high, and I gain the will to continue on.  I push harder on the windmill, which begins swaying slightly less.

You struggle holding on to the windmill into the night, and your body is screaming at you to give in, and you can't see your hands its so dark, even if your eyes were open in the freezing rain that slices into your face, and you are trembling with fatigue, and ...

Playtester

OoC: and what?  :P

IC:  I grit my teeth and lock my joints into place.  Digging into the ground, I feel my grip on the windmill weaken.  No... not now... darnit...  Even though my will has not snapped, I'm almost dead (figuratively) physically.

OOC: Just checking how dedicated you are to this project.

IC: You lock your arms in place, and somewhere, where you've never found it before, you find the willpower to continue on.  This is by far the hardest thing you've ever done, and if not for the fact that your fingers are growing numb, they would hurt unbearably.

You hang on deeper into the night, and soon it seems like you've been doing this forever.  Seemingly alone in the dark for you cannot see Johnny, and sleet raking your face,with your body trembling like a spring leaf in a breeze.

What do you do?

PT

OoC: I'm committed to this.  Some situations I can narrate a lot better than others.

IC:  Yelling out in frustration, I push the windmill as hard as I can.  Even with the drive, and the mental readiness, I find it impossible to go on further.  The last straw comes when something in my arm pops, and it turns completely numb.  I collapse on the ground with exhaustion, barely able to even keep myself awake at this point.

OoC: Superhuman powers or not, everyone has a breaking point.  My character hit his.

OOC: Yes, I had planned to have you break come morning.  In a John Henry type moment.  And you only have two magic skills at this point,and the first (sneaking type) wouldn't help much here.

IC: You collapse in the mud, and pass unconscious.  Some distant part of your mind is warning you of something, but you easily ignore it, and thus when the rain comes a little deeper, and covers your mouth, you don't even wake...

This story will be continued in the next thread titled "Malachai's Fourth World".