The new journey of the new version of JohnA1nut begins here, GMed by Tadeusz.  :)

In reply to Tadeusz (msg # 1):

Borrowing the Tesla electric car from your neighbour who was sick, and needed 'chicken soup, gatorade, and lots of Kleenex', and had begged you to go to the store with a twenty and a set of car keys pressed into your hand before he staggered back across the room to collapse on the couch of his apartment in a pool of misery was not the worst way to pass the afternoon.  It was interesting driving the electric car, and so you were enjoying yourself until the semi truck driver to your left on th3e thru town interstate (quickest way to get across town) dozed, and wandered into your lane.

His heavy semi without shuddering picked up your tiny car, and tossed it at the concrete divider. There was a crunch. Last thing you remember is looking down forty feet to the top of the roof of a house next to the interstate.

=======================

You smell mud and manure, and hear the lurid cries of loud birds, and feel heavy sweat on your skin as you lay on your back.  And then a foot kicks you in the ribs, and s torrent of abuse from a young voice shouts down at you in some foreign language.

You're not sure what he's saying, but it definitely ain't polite.

OOC) I just moved into my new home in Illinois. I know no neighbors, I sit around the house 90% of the time. So we're going to change this opening just a tad(eusz). Just roll with me on it, okay?

I am sitting at home, getting online with my piece of junk computer that I got at Wal-Mart. I live in a trailer, so I'm not at all surprised that a bolt of lightning just hit the outside. I have just been electrocuted, sprayed with a gold liquid and pass out. I am sitting in my lazy chair. The 45 automatic, 2 extra mags and a belt and holster sitting on a shelf within arms reach of me.



So for a moment I dream of driving a Tesla. Then I wake up, go to the bathroom, and lay back down in the lazy chair.



I scriff sense on the 45 in front of me. I look out and grab it, cock the hammer and blast this mouthy prick. Nine in the magazine. He gets at least 3.

Looking around at the landscape (What is around me?) I walk the distance across from my chair to the gun cabinet and grab what's in there. Or I look at it for a minute. Yeah, I sit there and look at it for a minute. (Remove from character sheet the Glock 9mm and mags. I have yet to fire that weapon and I would avoid taking it into combat if possible. Same reason I left the AR-15 at home. Yes, I have an AR-15 that I've not yet fired.)

So I'm looking at the guns. I grab up the Ruger 9mm. It's in a holster on a belt with a total of five magazines. (75 rounds) and a Kabar knife. I look at it for a moment.

Then it hits me. I must have partied a little too hard last night. I'm having one of those awesome dreams where it's so vivid. This is gonna be a fun night!!!!! I wonder if The Terminator is gonna show up?

Then I put the 9mm and gun belt on, complaining about the fact that the dream body is just as weak and painful as the real one. Oh well, that happens too.

Which shotgun to grab? I'd rather have the Mossberg, but it doesn't have a sling. The double barrel has a sling and side shell holder. Eight rounds of three inch magnum 00 buck shot on the sling, six more on the stock. And two in the barrels. Yeah. I'm taking the double barrel.

(Seriously, I have dreams like this.)

I wonder for a moment why the Glock and the AR-15 aren't in this dream. Oh well, they're over rated.

I've got a belt that holds 56 rounds of 00 buckshot. It's a bandolier. I put that on over my shoulder. Then I realize how heavy it is on this 43 year old body. Put it back down. Fourteen spares are enough. Besides, it's a dream. I can always come back and get more.

I pull back the hammers on the double barrel and hold it to my shoulder. I survey the landscape through the sights on the gun. What's around me? Maybe a velociraptor or a couple of mutant spiders? What's this dream about?

(Yes, I have dreams like this.)

I look for the mouthy kid. Is he still here? Usually the bodies disappear in the dreams, but not always.

So what's going on now?

(Doing Therapy)
This message was last edited by the player at 20:50, Tue 26 Jan 2021.

Two Posts

Had one of those hyper-realistic dreams last night. I think Tadeusz might have been in it. But anyway, we were being overrun by T-800s and all you could see were the two glowing red eyes as they advanced. Most of the Resistance had AR-15s. I was looking for an M1 Garand. Eight rounds of 30-06 might actually damage that thing.

But Anyway......

(Doing Therapy)

Three Posts

Something strange about that dream though. There's a weapon I know of only as "That sweet 20 shot .308." And in the dream, I said that. I told somebody, probably Tadeusz that I was looking for one of "those sweet 20 shot .308s."

Dunno, felt like sharing. No harm in that right?

(Doing Therapy)

In reply to JohnA1nut (msg # 5):

OOC: OK to both.

You whip open your eyes, and see an Oriental looking kid, and you're laying on a sort dry dirt path between thatched wooden huts.

You whip the weapon up, and (GE Roll) you take one shot, and hit him, and he ducks, and you miss, and he gets hit on your third shot very solidly.  He goes down, but he's not dead yet.

He's dropped a pair of baskets full of luscious, if strange looking fruit, and a staff for over his shoulders.

You load up, and you see a Han woman pop out of a hut, and stare in horror.  And then across the street, another Han man in a tunic and shorts and no shoes comes out, and he points his finger at you from fifty feet away, and says something very arrogantly.  You look down, and the kid is not dead yet.  In fact, he's not bleeding quite as much as you expect.

I say something gross and rather inappropriate for WorldWalker. She doesn't look like she can understand me, so oh well!



To the guy "You tell em big guy!!!!" And fire one of the barrels on the double barrel at him. The shot is 15 00 buckshot balls. GE roll on if I hit him. If I miss, I fire the second barrel.

"Dreaming's always fun!!!" I say as I pick up the loaded Mossberg, rack a round into the chamber and look around for more. Again, 3 inch 00 buck, 15 pellets.

Right now I'm just standing here holding the shotgun, waiting for anything to come out.

(Doing Therapy)

In reply to JohnA1nut (msg # 7):

She can understand your tone however, but ducks back into her hut yelling.

You hit the guy in his right leg, and tear up his shorts a bit, and get some red blood.  Then he gets up.  And his fists start to glow yellow as do his eyes while he flexes his impressive muscles and breathes deeply.

He shouts something that you're fairly sure translates to 'You die now, foreigner.'

"Fee fi foe fum. What beanstalk did you fall from?"

So I've fired at this guy twice with the double barrel. Tore up his shorts a bit. When I purchased the weapons and ammo, I was anticipating using them to defend my home. Not to attack a random Chinese fellow on the street. No, wait. He's a Terminator. This is a dream, remember? Which all comes to the fact that shotguns might be perfect for home defense, they're not so great as a long-range weapon.

So I pick up the Mossberg, rack a round into the chamber, and stand there like Kyle Reese holding it at my hip.



"Bring it on you son of a motherless camel!!!!"

I'm certain this guy is a Terminator. So I'm hoping the dream gods allow the shotgun to be loaded with something more powerful than 00 buckshot. However, I am rather knowledgeable of the anatomy of a T-800. Shotguns aren't all that effective because they're aiming at center mass. While this will knock the T-800 around and keep him away from you, he will ultimately shrug it off. If you want to inflict damage, aim for the joints. Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes (clap clap!!!)

But seriously, eyes, elbows, knees. Might not destroy him, but he's not coming after you anymore.

So wait for the Terminator to attack me. Fire at his knees when he gets close enough.

(Doing Therapy)

He's only five feet tall.  So no giant.

And suddenly, he's running at  you, bits of mud flying back up from under his heels, as he bolts at  you faster than a man can run.

You fire.

You're not sure you hit, but he throws forward his hands, and yellow light flares off them and intercepts the bullet.  He grins, and slows to a stop, and then he breathes in again, and his hands which had lost their yellow glow begin to glimmer again.

Yup, this is definitely a dream. I'm gonna try to fly away. Am I wearing the jetpack? No, I don't think so. Okay, pray.

"God, lift me up upon the most high."

Pray to be able to fly. Sure. Works in the dreams.

(Doing Therapy)

In reply to JohnA1nut (msg # 11):

You feel as if dark spirits intercepted your cry, and staggering exhaustion hits you so that you can barely stand.  (OOC: botch.).

He steps forward, hits you in the thigh with a kick that feels like he hit you with a wooden baseball bat, and as you crumple, you see the yellow glowing fist going toward your face.

You wake with your hands and wrists tied with poor but thick rope in a hut.  And an old woman with many wrinkles is putting this foul smelling, dark green paste on your face.

Over the next couple days, you find that your jaw was broken, but its healing fast, very fast.  The nasty paste does something along with taking the pain away.  They have taken your guns and shoes.

This is a dream, so I'm going to be thinking about healing myself. Making myself better.

OOC) Psionic healing is the result I would expect.

Yeah, this is a nightmare. Musta had some bad stuff last night...

Hate being tied up.

OOC) Been having nightmares about that lately too.....

Try to talk to Wrinkles here. What does she say? Can I understand her?

If, between their efforts and my own, I heal myself back to 100%, I'm gonna be thinking really hard about burning this place down. Starting with the ropes.

OOC) Expectation, psionic pyrokinesis.

What happens now boss?

(Doing Therapy)
This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Wed 03 Feb 2021.

In reply to JohnA1nut (msg # 13):

Nothing happens with either of your attempts at psi today.

As to language, you get her name, Ia, and your name to her, and about four other words (your choice).  It is a very difficult language to learn with tones and complexities you're not used too.

She also smacks you more than a few times, even if not in the face.  And she's a lot stronger than the old stringbean she looks like.  And the chilling thing is she's amused when you are hurt.  Whatever reason she's healing and feeding you rice and mushrooms and bits of fish for, its not empathy or kindness.

NUTS!!!! It's one of THOSE dreams!!!!!

I'm going to be talking to her a lot. The fact that she doesn't understand me just makes it that much more fun. She won't understand my insults and idle threats.

So I'm just tied up Misery style, waiting for this crazy lady to decide what to do with me..... Nice....



OOC) Yeah, that's Super Samantha's favorite interrogation tactic. She's got a Chaos katana which is magically sharp and can magically heal. She cuts people up to within an inch of their life, heals them, then does it again. Over and over. Until they tell her what she wants to know.

OOC) Had a nightmare not too long ago about what if Magehammer got caught for all of his crimes in The Multiverse..... It kinda imagined like this, actually.

So I'm just tied up being fed? Squirm. Try to loosen the ropes. Flex and release over and over. Maybe it will help undo them. It's not like I've got anything better to do....

Think about my anger towards Wrinkles. Focus it. Pyrokinetic powers used to cook her...

(Doing Therapy)

In reply to JohnA1nut (msg # 15):

She is actually healing you more than hurting you.  The pain is temporary, but not deep damage.  The healing is deep damage.

You keep trying to get free.  You almost get something, but it fades with pyrokinesis.  You try again an hour later, and nothing.

And then you're able to get free.

Skill 1@2 Escape Knots.

Where's the scriff senses to my stuff? If it's still together, I made a battle pack, the Ruger 9mm loaded and 4 spare 15 round magazines on a belt with a Kabar knife. A gun, knife, and 75 bullets. Was trying to put together something like that for the 45 and 357 as well.

That's the thing for which I am looking. My stuff.

Stay here and pretend to be tied until Wrinkles goes to sleep. Then look for my guns.

A fat lot of good they're gonna do me, it seems.... Still, better to have a gun and not need it than to need a gun an not have it...

When I find my stuff, put on the 9mm battle pack and grab up a shotgun. Leave this place.

Check and see if I'm wearing my jetpack. (Sometimes in dreams, I'll just spontaneously be wearing a jetpack.)

If not, try psionic flight again. It's a dream!!!!!

OOC) Question, you've just been dropped into a survival situation where you don't know what's going to lie ahead. Is it time to kill rabbits or zombies? You can carry either a double barrel 12 gauge or a Marlin eighteen shot 22 rifle?

Answer me please!!!!

(Doing Therapy)

In reply to JohnA1nut (msg # 17):

You slip through the night, and find in a small shed your equipment.  Your hand gun is jammed by a bullet put in by someone who did not know what they were doing.

You slip out to the edge of the village, and still no jetpack, but you almost feel like you lift before you don't.  You slip into the plush jungle around the village, and soon enough you're hearing the cries of beasts that start at the level of a lion roaring and go up from there.  None are immediately near you, but its clear the jungle is not safe.

OOC: Rabbits.

So I find my clothes too?

So, assuming it's weather permissive, I'm gonna put on clean underwear, clean pajama pants, clean socks, clean tee shirt, clean bib overalls, purple hoodie sweatshirt, army jacket.

9mm on the hip. 75 in mags, one in the pipe. 76 total bullets. And a Kabar knife.
I improvise a sling for the Marlin 22 and load it. Eighteen rounds of 22. And I've got 600 more rounds in plastic boxes.

Pick up a bag and load it with some of the dehydrated food and water bottles. Some lighters, fire starters. Maybe a change of clothes. Gotta leave most of it here. Oh well. Head to the woods.

Where's my jetpack? Why can't I fly? This dream SUCKS!!!!!

(Doing Therapy)

Two Posts

Planning to come back for more eventually, but I'm certain that's all I can carry for right now.

(Doing Therapy)

In reply to JohnA1nut (msg # 20):

You spot an opossum stalking you between the trees.  He's a good fifty pounds.  And strangely, you can feel his intentions which is to kill and eat you.