Some of the Posse piled into Peter's technical. The rest remained at the Humvee, trying to get it started. "Cannibal" Jack's life hung by a thread. Direct pressure reduced the bleeding from his neck but he'd lost a lot of blood!

The technical roared down the abandoned freeway. Meanwhile, the Humvee would not start. Popping the hood (bonnet) Smoker realised it had taken some high-calibre, probably .50-cal., right through some important components. It wasn't going anywhere without an overhaul.

Reaching the riverfront plaza area Peter and company passed by ancient overgrown ruins left from the time decades before the war when the earthquake and flooding from the later displacement of the Mississippi River through and over the shattered levees devastated Port Arthur and Baton Rouge. At the river's edge was the remains of a boardwalk and amusement park that accompanied the establishment of the entire area as a CSA national wildlife preserve, recreation area and gun range. Some fading and tattered posters advertised getting back to nature the authentic traditional way, on a jet-ski with a beer in one hand and an AK in the other. Other posters advertised the chance to hunt "rare" and "exotic" (aka endangered) wildlife like the Gopher Tortoise, West Indian Manatee and the grandest trophy of them all, the Louisiana Black Bear. Choice of weapons included the crossbow, hunting rifles and shotguns, fully-auto combat shotguns, bows shooting arrows with a stick of dynamite attached, submachineguns, assault rifles, 40mm grenade launchers and LAW rockets.

When they stopped, Kargo was nowhere to be found. All that could be seen was thick vine-festooned jungle upriver and downriver. Thick forest on the other side of the river had swallowed the ruins of Baton Rougee. There was a wide brown river in between. A few rusted girders and stained concrete pylons poked out of the water here and there, the remnants of bridges long-gone.

Marshall's Note: Anyone with a view of the river can make a Cognition check.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:40, Sat 04 July 2020.

  Chricton having been in the Technical when they started chasing Kargo again was there at the river when they apparently lost him. He wasn't very happy about that for a few reasons. Not the least of which they had just chased him halfway across the freaking country. "Now what? Because that just pisses me off."

07:46, Today: Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton rolled 10 using 4d12, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 10,2,6,6.  Cognition.

Trask continued to provide cover near the Humvee, he would run the odd scan before adding, "So we are not getting out of here anytime soon ? Anyone got experience with repairs, I can do the heavy lifting."


-

Smoker continued working on the Humvee, muttering about people who were so careless as to fire bullets into engines, sounding as if it were a personal affront!

Peter drove as fast as he could without being reckless. Nothing would be worse than hitting something or a pothole and flipping the truck over while in pursuit. He slowed to a stop when they reached the riverfront plaza area. He got out of the truck and looked around slowly.

"Damnit. Where the hell did he go?? This guy has really pissed me off now."

All things considered it seemed the most logical that Kargo would take his stolen hoverbike out over the river where he couldn't be followed. Indeed, looking across the river Peter and Crichton could just see what they thought was something throwing up sprays of water. Whatever it was it disappeared after a moment among flooded ruined buildings and massive trees sticking out of the water on the far side. The distance was over a half-mile away, difficult to tell. but a hoverbike would probably leave a wide wake if it were travelling all out.

Meanwhile back at the Humvee, Smoker and Trask laboured at fixing the engine. Jane, who'd stayed behind, laboured at saving Jack. Using skills she didn't know she had and the contents of her medical kit she fought to keep him alive despite the amount of blood he'd lost.

At the humvee...

Brother Edgar pushed his power as far as he could.  Glowing sweat dripped across his brow at the strain of it.  When he could do no more with that, he turned to his own medical skill and assisted Jane.  Aside from all that, he offered what prayer and soothing words he could manage...

  "It appears that he has gotten away for the moment. We need to go figure out what is going on with the rest of us. And go from there. I'd rather shoot the bastard and be done with it. Next time in the head."

Peter kicked the ground in frustration, cursing under his breath for a minute. Then, slowly, he got his anger back under control. "Alright. We can't catch him this way. Let's head back and check on the others. I want to make sure Jack is going to be okay."

He got back in the technical and headed back the way they'd just come...albeit at a much more sedate pace.

The healing Glow from Brother Edgar's hands enveloped Jack's grievous wounds. They closed partly and the gush of blood subsided to a trickle. He was partially healed; enough to stabilise him but not enough to completely heal him.

At the river they decided to heading back and meet the others at the vehicle.

It was obvious the Sheriff's Dept. Humvee wouldn't start. But Jack needed medical attention urgently.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 10):

"Peter, I have an idea. Jack needs care. There is a doctor back in that town we passed, Alexandria. But if we leave we'll have a hard time catching up to Kargo and we might never find his trail again. How about I drive the technical back with Jack and Macela and her husband? You look for a way across. Keep in touch using the Humvee radio. I'll drop the others off in Alexandria and I should be back before nightfall."

Peter drove back to where the others were, and climbed out. He looked over at Jane as she spoke. He frowned for just a moment at what she had to say, but then he gave a slow nod. If he would trust anyone in the world with his technical, it would be her.

"Very well, Jane. Please hurry but stay safe." He glanced at the truck. "And keep the truck safe too, please."

He gave Jane a hug and then grabbed his gear out of it quickly.

Brother Edgar looked quite faded.  Diminished.  But, ultimately satisfied that he had done what he could to preserve Jack's life.  It was in other hands now.  Should Jack live, it was also quite possible that he would discover that the healing energies of the Glow and chosen to bless him with the gifts of the Atom...

Time would tell.

In the mean time...

The Doomsayer stood, swaying slightly and using his strange metal walking stick to steady himself, "I have done what I can for him and Jane has a good plan.  We've come this far after Kargo... it would be a shame to stop now... And we have a greater chance of catching him than we do the night fiends..."  Regret returned that he had not managed to incinerate all the monsters in cleansing atomic fire...

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 12):

Smiling, Jane dismounted. "I will stay safe, my love. Now, don't let that bastard get away! I'll see you tonight. If you need to split for some reading then we can RV back at the ambush site at dawn. You stay safe as well."

She got into the driver's seat.

They hooked up the Humvee so that they could tow it to where they would be looking for a way across the river. That way they could keep in touch via the CB radio. Jane shuttled them down to the river's edge. Ruined buildings and half-sunken wharves and rusted, collapsed amusement rides littered the shore. They rolled the Humvee into the shell of a concession stand where a destroyed wall not facing the road allowed for access.

"Ok, here you go. Stay safe my love!" She gave Peter a long kiss as she unhooked the dead Humvee. "Not goodbye. See you later." After some radio checks, the technical was gone. Maybe, with some luck, the Wasteland sawbones in Alexandria could work a miracle on Cactus Jack.

Here, due to the earthquake that destroyed Port Arthur and Baton Rouge, the Missisppi had backed up to form a new lake. It had expanded over Baton Rouge, flooding it, covering most of it. Now a few buildings poked out of the brown water, barely clearing the mangrove swamp that now covered the area.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:09, Fri 07 Aug 2020.

"Thank you for the lift." Which was pure irony since the truck was his, and it was amusing to him.

Peter smiled at Jane and kissed her back. "Agreed. Always 'to be continued'." He gave her a nod. "Take care of our friend, but take care of yourself as well."

He turned to those staying with him. "Shall we go and see what we can find then? The trail is likely very cold at this point."

He began to head in the direction they had last seen the hoverbike going.

"Okie dokie," said Smoker, who'd been sprawling at the side of the road waiting for something to happen. He jumped up, ready to move out.

Brother Edgar gave a nod to the departing group and raised a now very very dimly glowing hand, "May Saint Darwin's truth be in his favor.  Drive safely."   With that, the Doomsayer stepped after the others at the best speed he could manage with his strained and drained self.

  Chrichton merely watches Jane go with a sense of foreboding. He pulls his plasma pistolnas he walks toward the embankment and looks out across the water. "We either need some wings or we need a boat. Any ideas fellas?"

Trask watches the others leave as he runs a scan of the area and then gives the all clear assuming nothing show up. Then he turns a waits for the off.


-

"Could we build a raft?" asked Smoker, assessing nearby trees for good raft material.

 "I'm not sure how big a raft would need to be. Most of us are pretty light, but do we want to make a rather large raft to be able to hold all of us. Or maybe a couple of smaller outriggers and one big one?" he asks looking about for things to use to make what he was suggesting.

The Posse started gathing materials for a raft.

They also heard, very faintly, a rhythmic drumming sound coming from the northeast, upriver. However, it didn't seem to be getting louder and even faded out every one in a while.

PD Note: Now would be a good time for a Scrounge roll. 5d12 for Smoker. Anyone or everyone can join him.

Brother Edgar would normally lend a hand.  He has always proven willing to turn his hand to every needed task, no matter how unpleasant.  But this time, he is forced to abstain.  He takes the opportunity to settle in with his staff across his legs and meditate.  To recenter.  To let the Glow flow through him again.

Smoker and Crichton scavenged along the riverfront for an hour, finding enough to make a crude raft from some intact barrels and pallets. What they were having trouble locating was enough rope or cord to lash it all together. Brother Edgar rested while Trask and Peter kept a watch. Smoker and Crichton periodically returned to the work site to drop off salvage, then headed back into the ruined amusement park to look for more items. The faint drumming sound continued from upriver, "thump... thump... thump..." Nothing seemed to come from it.

The bank had been built up with a boardwalk but you found a gap between two buildings where you can carefully make your way down to the muddy riverbank. Both cinder block buildings had been burned and razed, leaving some low walls for Trask and Brother Edgar to use as partial cover. (Brother Edgar had previously been chillin' down at the river's edge but it occurred to him if another one of those monster gators showed up and found him alone he would be its lunch. Instead, this way Trask could try and keep everyone covered.

Suddenly, they heard gunfire from in the ruins, probably a submachinegun, and quite close.

Marshall's Note: You can make Cognition checks to try and determine the range, direction and distance.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:20, Sun 16 Aug 2020.

Peter kept watch, such as it was, over the group and the materials they scavenged. For some reason, he just wasn't in the mood for scrounging up himself - or he knew the materials would be way below his standards.

Under his breath he muttered, "drums...drums in the dark..."

He perked up suddenly at the sound of gunfire. He looked around, but even with his nightvision goggles and usually-good hearing, he couldn't tell too much.

"Not to rush you, but how much longer do you think the raft construction will take?"

"It'll be ready when it's ready," grouched Smoker.

"What's the rush?"

If some heavy lifting was needed Trask would volunteer to move logs.

Trask turned to face the direction the fire cam from. His rifle was at his shoulder s he made a sweep with his sensors trying to pin point a possible threat.


-

Brother Edgar trusted in the Glow and his able companions.  He would remain calm...  Be calm.  Feel the Glow flowing through you....  For as long as the raft construction would allow.

After a tense moment, there was another burst of small-calibre gunfire. More birds took off. It was close, Trask figured it was only about 50 yards distant. Whoever it was busting caps was either rich or in a heap of trouble!

A young man sprinted out from an alley between two buildings 40 yards away. He was well-dressed for a Waster, wearing a backpack and trying to reload a 10mm HK Police SMG. Following him were several mutant rodents of some kind, like giant rats but with patches of missing hair. It didn't look like there would be enough of the one victim to feed them so much of the pack broke off and made a beeline towards Crichton and Smoker.

Suddenly there was movement all around them! Suddenly more were coming out from under ruined buildings, up from the water, everywhere. There were multiple attackers coming after everyone now: Peter, Trask and Brother Edgar as well.

Marshall"s Note: roughly 3 of the giant rat-like creatures are on each of you.

Smoker, with an armful of raft-building materials, just stared at these critters! He'd not been paying attention to the gunfire in the background, let alone realised that it had come closer... and wasn't sure where his weapons were anyway.

With a flick of his eye Trask designated the rats as enemy and his HUD was suddenly covered with glowing red triangles. He aimed at the closest and began firing off small bursts at the rats, moving onto the next once he had hard hits on the first.


Increase Trask rolled 7 using 4d8, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 6,5,7,3.  Quickness.

Increase Trask rolled 9 using 5d12, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 7,4,9,7,4.  Shootin.



-

Brother Edgar's reverie is broken by the sudden closer bursts of gunfire.  With a sigh, he started to turn and stand.  But the rats started coming out from everwhere.  No time.  Still in a crouch, the Doomsayer gripped his staff and slammed its end to the ground, calling, "Praise to Saint Curie!  The Nature of Radiation Revealed!"  The rod hummed and glowed.  Once again the priest himself dimmed as he released the Glow.  This time he pushed it out, the Glow shimmered and expanded out from him in a widening half circle.  A barely visible field of green energy with the Doomsayer at the center. He gritted his teeth in pain,  "Rally to me!!"

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 33):

The ruins filled with gunfire as Trask fired short bursts from his ACR's attached carbine. The giant rat-things squealed and a few were hit. Suddenly, there was an expanding green glow centred on a praying Brother Edgar. The giant mutant rats all stopped in surprise at the boundary as if slamming into a flickering green wall. Hearing Brother Egar's command the beset-upon scav changed course and made a beeline for him. His pursuers who hadn't got the memo did when he crossed into the safe zone, screeching to a halt.

After a brief pause, the mutant rats decided they weren't that hungry after all. They beat a hasty scrambling retreat back to their literal rat-holes, dragging their dead and wounded with them.

Gasping for breath, the young man finished inserting a mag into his MP10 with a shaking hand. Then hit the charging handle with the edge of his hand to slam the bolt home and chamber a round (the "HK slap"). "Good Lord... thanks for the help, fellers! I'm Luke and I reckon woulda' been done for without your help! Those nutria came outta nowhere!"

Brother Edgar pushed himself to his feet, a bit shakily, but continued to hold the control out in front of him.  A focal point of concentration for maintaining the glowing barrier.  The radpriest still looked very tired, but now also in some sort of deep pain.

He's having a hard day.

Despite that, Brother Edgar managed a strained smile at "Luke","Happy... to help...  Luke.  Brother Edgar."  To the rest of his travelling companions, Edgar added, "I will only be able to keep them at bay for a few minutes.  I can't guarantee they won't be back after that...  A plan?"

"You can drop the barrier. I doubt they are coming back in five minutes." he says as he holsters his pistol. "Chricton. And other than the obvious what are you doing out here son?"

Trask thought to fire on those retrieving the dead ones, but held off to save ammunition and so as to not antagonise the creatures to attack again. He let them depart unmolested as he continued to run scans of the area should they return while the rest of the team were talking.


-

There was some snarling and fighting as the mutant nutria began devouring their dead and wounded even as they were dragging the bodies out of sight.

The young man nervously watched the carnage with a horrified look on his face. "Thanks again, that could have been me! They're so hungry." His soft drawl marked him as a Louisianan. "Brother Edgar, Crichton. Pleasure is all mine, I assure you!

"I was doin' some scavvin' here. Lookin' for empty propane cylinders that weren't too rusted. Found a couple, put them in my boat. Thought I could get one more. That's when I got cornered by those nutria. They're gonna be back, so I guess I'll be on my way. Ya'all got my deepest thanks. Is there anything I can do to help ya'all? Just name it."

Peter had fired off only a couple shots before things were ended. He lowered his gun and gave the newcomer a wary nod. "I am Peter." He paused a moment as the man started rambling on.

"Nutria, did you call them?" He frowned slightly. "It is dangerous to scavenge alone at the best of times in the best of places. You must be very desperate."

He glanced at the others and gestured. "We are....tracking someone, who headed that way. Could you guide us, or at least give us information about what lies that way?"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 39):

He nodded his head. "Luke. Luke Kirby. Yeah, whatever you want! I'm from across the river. Nutria are swamp rats, like big water rats. But non-aggressive. Bred for their fur! A lot meaner now."

Looking at their half-completed raft he said, "I can take ya'all cross the river with me. Sounds like that's where whoever you're tracking is from. I'm from Nouveau Baton Rouge, the old city centre that's in the middle of the river now. We rigged up ramps and walkways to connect the buildings that are stickin' up out of the water and the swamp. You want to come along? Let's get out of here!"

"Do you mean you have transportation, Luke?" Smoker asked.

Brother Edgar opted to allow the miracle to be maintained, though it was uncomfortable.  It would be more uncomfortable to be gnawed upon those things.  Folk might also note the air seemed a bit cleaner and sweeter even.  Within the bubble, everything just seems a bit...better.

At Smoker's question, Edgar merely moved to follow Luke, "I say we follow him and find out."

Peter listened and then glanced at Brother Edgar. He gave a half-shrug and nodded. "I have no argument against that." He made a 'we'll see' sort of gesture. "Your home sounds interesting."

However, he was intrigued to see how Luke would answer Smoker. Their 'raft' was likely going to be fine and all, but actual transportation might be more welcome.

"Uh-huh. It's this way. What I can do is tow your raft. That way you're not completely stranded across the river. I'm apprentice to Nouveau Baton Rouge's chief engineer, Mr. Tinsdale. I can introduce you when I drop off the recycling I found. He or Mashall Reyanrd should be able to help you out and maybe give you something for helping me out. We also call it "Red Stick" for short. Let's go."

He began leading them upriver to the north, along the bank. They detoured around wrecked concession stands, some sinking into the black stinking river mud.

"Hey, that booming noise, is it getting louder?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:29, Mon 14 Sept 2020.

Indeed, the booming sounds coming from upriver were getting noticeably louder and had sped up in tempo. Whatever it was, it was getting close. Hidden by the trees and ruins on the bank.

From around a bend there came into sight a Mississippi paddlewheeler. Boats like this had been popular before the war as floating casinos, hotels, restaurants and tour boats. Whatever this one's former profession it had fallen on hard times! The pilot house was gone. The promenade deck below was lined with sandbags and behind those were a ragged crew waving long rifles of some kind and various hand weapons.

Formerly white paint was stained with rust and grime. One stack was missing and the other sheared off halfway up. The smoke that wafted out from the remaining half stack was probably not from a boiler (these boats had all once been electric or had diesel engines) but the paddlewheels in the back were completely removed. Instead, a series of oars protruded from the lower deck, dipping and pulling to the rhythm of the drum. On the bow an ancient cannon was mounted on some kind of ancient turn-table.

Four flat-boats with outboard engines roared around the corner as well. They were packed with filthy-looking scavvs, all armed with rifles of some kind and keeping low for cover.

Luke looked flabbergasted, he obvious has no idea who these people are or what they want, although the latter is pretty obvious!

Smoker found himself staring at this apparition. Part of his mind was working out what he'd do with such a platform... certainly there was scope for devising a far better propulsion system...

Trask was on the move once it became apparent what they were facing and where the drums were coming from. He looked for cover before aiming at the deck gun and getting ready to fire.



-

Peter gave a nod towards Luke, "That would be very appreciated, thank you. We will eventually need to come back over this way." He began to follow Luke, but that soon ended.

His eyes widened when he saw an enormous boat, like one of the 'casino boats' he'd heard of back in the day to avoid 'law enforcement entanglements' by not operating on land in their 'jurisdiction'. But this was...not quite what it once would have been. And it looked like it was bringing danger their way.

"Well, crap." He gave Luke a push even as he put a finger to his lips. "We should hide or at least find cover."

OOC: Do we have a chance to hide, or do they seem to see us already?

"This is gonna get interesting." the junker says as he pulls a couple pistols and starts to watch the bandits warily.

  OOC Pulling his Plasma Pistol and his Colt Bluntline. He offers the Bluntline to Smoker.

Brother Edgar sighed a bit at the sight.  The glow under his robe was so faded.  Just tired.  Wasteland life will do that to you.  Run you ragged with all the constant threat.  He moved over alongside Luke, nudging the man toward whatever cover could be found, "Best to get down..."  He might not have much help left to offer, but he could at least protect the man with the ride out of here.

"Thank you, Airen," said Smoker, dropping the armful of scrap to accept the Buntline.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 48):

"My boat's about a half-mile upstream, hidden...." He also seemed mighty surprised at the old scow.

"What in the Hell is that? I agree, Peter, let's get the heck outta here!"

He began looking around for cover or a way out of there.

In reply to Luke Kirby (msg # 52):

The question whether they'd been seen was answered by a puff of white smoke from the cannon on the foredeck of the ship around 300 yards away. Followed by a dark object whizzing overhead to crash into the old boardwalk about 200 feet away and a booming crack (as the report of firing caught up to the shell). It was not an explosive round, however, as there was no explosion on impact of the round. The gun crew immediately began swabbing out the thick iron gunbarrel.

The four motorised flatboats split into two pairs, one heading past them to angle towards the shore downstream, the other aiming for upstream. Both were about 250 yards out. Both crews were holding their fire and keeping as low as possible, hiding behind the low gunwales.

The nearest cover was a flimsy wood concession stand half-sunk into the riverbank mud. Farther away were concrete ruins of the amusement park and the ruins of Port Kelley. Right where they were was a boardwalk with wood and concrete concession stands. Downstream were some riverside newer hotels and restaurants, upstream were older collapsed houses hidden among the trees. Kudzu and grey Spanish Moss covered everything.

Trask found the nearest cover that was made of concrete, the concession stands close to them seemed to be ideal. He took up a position and let the HUD begin to identify targets as he aimed for the deck gun with a HE 20mm shell.


Increase Trask rolled 6 using 3d8, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 6,3,3.  20mm.




-

Peter was no fool. A small wooden shack would provide almost zero protection against...cannonballs?? He let out a small, frustrated sigh. Then without another word, he began to sprint towards the ruins of the amusement park. Concrete would at least provide some protection, if not forever. He wished he had a better plan other than run and find cover, but for the moment that was what was needed. Once they had cover they could strategize. He hoped.

  "Damned if we don't keep running into trash. First Kargo, then the damned Anti-Templars, and now these screw ups. Bet they aren't expecting resistance." he says out loud to no one as he runs for cover behind some concrete. "This is gonna be bad. Smoker get over here."

Brother Edgar, trying to keep Luke with him and head down, quietly agreed with the others assessment of cover.  He too headed for the more solid concrete stands.  Knowing that the others were focused, rightly so, on the ship, Edgar tried to keep an eye on the rest of the area...in case the rats decided to hide in the same place as they were heading...

Smoker, who was just about to jump onto the almost completed raft, looked round in some confusion.

Trask used the ACR's built-in laser and lased the ship. It was a large target, but he was aiming at a specific part. And it was still hundreds of yards away and moving. His 200 airburst (APERS) round hit the ship somewhere admidships in a flash and puff of black smoke. The drumming stopped and so did the rowing. Everyone on deck, including the gun crew, hit said deck and it wasn't clear who was actually dead or not.

The two pairs of big flat-boats came onward over the water, one heading a bit upriver and the other downriver. A few heads popped up over the low gunwales, behind rifles, and there were probably a lot more lying low behind them in each boat. They started shooting, each shooter firing with a flash and large puff of grey smoke. Then they ducked back down and a couple more poked their heads up to aim their long-barreled rifles. The boats were about 1/3 of the way to shore now.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:02, Sat 26 Sept 2020.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 58):

Luke flinched and ducked as a wild rifle round whizzed overhead. He sounded very concerned as he noted the course of the two pairs of boats. If they landed upriver and downriver, then moved in a kind of pincer movement to meet inland, they'd be trapped here almost against the bank.

"Holy shit! We need to get out of here! They're aiming to come ashore and surround us if we stay here close to the bank! And that cannon ain't gonna be out of range forever! I don't know who these guys are or where they came from but I suggest we don't be here when they close the trap. Let's make a run for it!

"Everyone, get your stuff and let's get out of here!"

Looking through his HUD Trask tracked the lead skiff and as he lowered his rifle somewhat he pulled the trigger. A series of bursts were aimed for the small boat and its crew as it skipped along the water.


Trask rolled 8 using 5d12, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 4,6,8,1,2.  Shootin.



-

Smoker's worldly goods were already on the raft, so he scrabbled around to gather them up and then scrambled ashore to head for Airen and the concrete blocks he was hiding behind.

 Crichton set the rail gun down as he reached cover. And smiled yeah he was a tech priest of a junker, but he knew a good gun when he saw it and pulled his HI Hellfire. He sets it on the lip of the concrete and sprays the nearest boat. He doesn't bother looking just fires in the direction of the boat. "Grab a gun Smoker. Gonna be hard to shoot at us from under cover. I'm not worried about running dry on this thing to much. Plenty of Black Hats back home to get ammo from."

Peter had only concerned himself with running and getting to the concrete to use as barriers. Until he made it there. Even as he tried to catch his breath a bit, he was pulling his rifle off of his back and checking it over real quick.

Then he set himself with as much of his body as he could behind the concrete while bracing the rifle on it and taking aim at the people coming. He held off for the moment since most of the were down and low in the boats or down on the deck of the larger ship. Bullets weren't cheap and he didn't want to waste them.

OOC: Will aim as much as he can until they 'land' and disgorge from the boat.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 62):

Smoker got his pack, FN rifle and Colt Python and hoofed it over to the concrete remains of the foundation to join the rest of the posse.

Trask and Crichton started popping off rounds at the approaching flatboats. It was difficult to judge the effectiveness of their fire at this range, but the occupants of both targeted boats ducked down and fire from all boats effectively ceased. But there were 4 boats total and they continued approaching. [Marshal's Note: I am assuming a single 3-round burst from both firers for ammunition tracking purposes.] Peter sighted in another boat but held his fire.

The big ship seems to have recovered somewhat. After drifting for a brief time the booming drum noises resumed and the oars began to dip into the water once again, propelling it forward once more.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 65):

A worried Luke took out some taped-up binoculars from his pack and studied the oncoming boats.

"Shit, looks like 10, 15 or more per boat. That's 40 to 60 of them at least! If they land and then encircle us here, we're completely fucked. Let's get out of here!" He put his binoculars away and slung his Police SMG, getting ready to make a run for it.

Smoker raised his FN and started looking for targets... but kept the rest of his possessions to hand in case they bugged out rather than fight.

"If we make enough noise, maybe they'll decide to sail on by," he said hopefully.

Trask spoke over the teams comms. "OK if we are moving then go and I will cover you." Trask turned back and adjusted his aim towards those manning the main gun again.

Increase Trask rolled 10 using 5d12, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 9,6,10,9,7.  Shootin.

"All right, follow me. I know the ruins a bit. Not like the back of my hand but enough not to get lost or trapped in a dead end."

He hopped out and disappeared down an alley.

Marshall's Note: OK, time to vote with your feet! Are you going to stay or go?

Brother Edgar started to reach for the boatman, but missed catching him to stop him.  He turned back to Smoker and Crichton, "There are so many...  I will stay if you make this stand and help how I can."  He held up his odd walking stick like a club.  Sadly it did not glow with an furious atomic power this time.  It showed his intent, but obviously the tired radpriest had little to offer this fight beyond moral support, "Make your choice quickly, friends...  Fight or flee.  I pray St. Darwin guides this Natural Selection in our favor..."

  "We are bugging out. You and Smoker get to moving. I'm out just before Trask." he says to the two before he hits his comm. ++"Trask I'm cutting bait once Priest and Smoker are moving. I will gst to cover and try to provide you some covering fire. Problems? Call em now."++

"OK, come on Brother Edgar. How fast can you move?"

Smoker was ready to offer assistance, or at least carry his stuff, if needed. As for the raft, well, it had taken most of the afternoon to build but so what? He could always build another one if they ended up needing it.

Brother Edgar pushed himself up and started off after Luke, "Hopefully fast enough.  Let's go."  He hoped the scavenger boatman would be easy enough to follow.  Barring that, that he could at least help find a path with enough cover that they don't all get cut down.

Peter didn't hesitate much. He'd already made the decision when he 'fell back' from the water's edge. They numbers against them were a bit overwhelming. "Today is not a good day to die." He smiled slightly. "Let us withdraw."

He then began to hastily but carefully head away from the water and the thugs, heading towards the woods.

They quickly made their way through the overgrown nature/theme park away from the river. They could still hear the drumming noise, and the crack of a cannon shot. It seemed they escaped the trap as they did not immediately see anyone closing off their escape route.

After about a kilometer they could still hear the booming of the drums, but faintly. They were in dense overgrown forest now. This made them tough to see but they left traces of their passing on the thick lush forest, making them still not difficult to track if the raiders were doing that.

Marshall's note: everyone make a Stealth check.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 75):

They left the main group of pursuers behind as they quietly slipped through the dense forest to the west, away from the river. For a little while it looked like they made it. However, there was some loud shouting from about 4-500 yards behind them as if maybe someone picked up their trail.

Just then the game path they were following west through the forest led them to a swampy area with a stream in the middle crossing their route (from north-south). A rusted ice cream truck sat mired up to its hubcaps in the reeds in their path.

Peter was trying to move along as stealthily as he could, but while still maintaining a somewhat hurried pace. It was kind of exhausting to do for a long period of time. He found he was breathing a bit heavily after some time - how much time? He wasn't sure. It felt like they been on the stealth run for a very long time - but in all likelihood it wasn't more than a few minutes.

The sounds behind them were becoming fainter, which was good. And he was very glad that his own truck wasn't around to be captured or damaged by the hooligans. Then the sounds of excitement rose again and he worried they were going to be pursued. He supposed at least if it came to a fight at some point, the ship and it's cannons wouldn't be nearby. Small comfort, but he'd take what he could get.

They came across a swampy area. He chanced a glance back at his allies. "We could try and go through the swamp area to see if we can loose them. Unless you want to make a stand in that ice cream truck." It was hard to tell if he was joking or not.

  Crichton chuckled. "I think it's about time we send them running. Might have a minute or two to set up at most, but I for one can't keep running."

The Doomsayer stepped carefully over to peek into the interior of the ice cream truck (or soon to be Fort Last Stand).  He noted, "Not having their cannon and the full force of their crew should be to our advantage.  Blessed Evolution has gifted us with fight and flight...  Survival is about choosing the right one at the right time..."

Trask covered the way they had just come as a course of action was decided. If there was something he could use for cover all the better.


-

"Personally, I'd choose flight..." said Smoker, who was beside Brother Edgar.

  "Standard scavs should run from a volley of fire even inaccurate fire. If timed right and we can sound like we have more folks than we actually do." he says with a shrug and a spreading of his hands.

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 79):

The inside of the ice cream truck was somewhat dry but streaked with rust, grime and corrosion. Overall, the stream crossing (east to west) provided an open area with good concealment and cover (from tree trunks and logs) on all sides. There was room and cover to set a line ambush on the west side of the stream in a line perpendicular to the enemy's route of travel to take them in the flank as they crossed. Or, the truck could be used as cover for some or all of the ambushers.

Marshall's Note: Let me know the rough plan. Are you forming a line across the trail on the far side of the stream? Anyone setting up in the truck? Forming a military-style line ambush on the enemy's flank alongside their route of travel? As well make Stealth checks TN3 due to the abundant concealment available.

Turning back Trask added to the conversation, be it briefly. "Lets make a stand here." He looked for a sturdy log or three to cover the majority of his armour, perhaps behind the ice cream truck he thought.



-

They set up an ambush line, anchored on one end by the truck and on the other by the trees on the shore. Anyone following the path through the swamp would walk right past them and they could easily open up along their flank.

Sure enough, four ragged men carrying long, antique-looking rifles moved cautiously out of the trees into the marsh south of the stream. They seemed to be following the tracks the posse had left as they crossed the stream. They were dressed in rags and bits of armour, mainly plastic and leather. They were filthy and bearded, wild-looking.

Trask switched on the team coms with a flick of his eye across the HUD. "They look like the poor bastards who were rowing."



-

 "Wait til we know this is all we are gonna get in this trap. Then light them up." Chricton says clearly worried that four was the advance party.

Peter stayed away from the truck - he thought that while it might provide some cover, it would also be hard to get away from it if the need arose. But he set himself up to one side, hiding in cover as best he could, rifle at the ready.

He waited as the four came in to sight to see if more would be seen or heard.

The four armed ragged scavvs waded cautiously across the stream. They looked more apprehensive every step, constantly scanning their surroundings. Maybe realising how vulnerable they were to ambush as they crossed. There was no one visible behind them.

Two were armed with long-barreled pipe rifles with bayonets crudely attached. One had what looked to be a pipe pistol, and another a wide-barreled sawed-off.

Marshall's Note: Sneak checks for everyone! And then Quickness, of course.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:59, Thu 03 Dec 2020.

"Oh well" Trask thought, "If they had the opportunity to kill him they probably would." as he waited for the signal to start firing. He would aim for the person at the rear of the group and then keep firing bursts until he was down and then keep moving his fire up.


Increase Trask rolled 20 using 5d12, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 6,(12+8)20,5,8,9.  Shootin.



-
This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Fri 04 Dec 2020.

Brother Edgar breathed in.....breathed out...  Quietly.  Bracing himself for the inevitable roaring gunfire that this situation was destined to end in.  Violence was a part of the natural order, of course.  It was just so loud...  Breath in.  Breath out.  He spared a silent entreaty to Saint Bates for the courage to act strongly and let this all end quickly...

Edgar is Holding.  If someone rushes his position, he'll react to bring them down hand to hand.  Otherwise, he will stay out of the "kill zone"

  Well the plan was going as well as one could expect. Guess it was four of them then. He waited until they were close to the position and went for the near man in the middle. Odds are if he missed he would get one of the others. The Hellstrome Industries weapon roared to life in his hand.

23:41, Today: Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton rolled 5 using 7d6, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 2,3,4,5,3,3,1.  Shootin MG.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:41, Sat 05 Dec 2020.

Slowly the group of scavvs advanced across the stream. Suddenly there was a blaze of gunfire and within seconds three of four scavvs were cut down, dropping where they stood.

he last one staggered backwards, managed to stand, then toppled over backwards into the water. There was a cacophony of cawing and panicked rustling from the brush as the wildlife around them bolted to get away. But there was no movement from the scavvs where they lay except for some twitching and dying thrashing. The sluggish current of the stream tugged at the bodies and the water began to turn red as they bled out.

Marshal's Note: Everyone scored a head shot. It was very impressive! Peter, Trask and Crichton fired 3 shots each.

Trask clicked his HUD to thermal and checked to see if he could spot any other figures in the scrub as he waited. With his rifle at his shoulder he scanned for additional targets.


-

Peter blinked rapidly a few times. Then he looked down at the weapon in his hands. Then back at the corpses. He shook his head. "Well. THAT was impressive. Good shooting."

He glanced around, keeping his voice low. "Should we keep staying here for the next group or take our chances and move on?"

 "Gunny Halleck would be proud." he murmers. "I wouldn't think so, but we might get one more group before we must move on. Trask you got anything on them sensors?" he asks quite sure that it is quiet for the moment.

It was over almost before it had time to register from Edgar that it had begun.  He remained still and where he was until there was an all clear.  He did whisper to Crichton, "Gunny Halleck was a fine teacher..."  He too then waited on the sensor report.

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 94):

There were no more targets approaching. It was very quiet now as all the local wildlife had fled. One of the victims of the ambush twitched twitched a limb, splashing the water a little, then was still. Blood turned the lazy stream red as it oozed downstream.

Smoker said, "shit! We going to wait for more? Or we gonna di di mao?"

Peter looked at the two 'having a moment' or whatever was going on with a light look of confusion on his face. He didn't get the reference. Then Smoker spoke up and Peter looked over at him. After a moment he gave a half-shrug and a nod.

"Barring objections, I suppose we should not just sit here and wait. We should keep moving. We maybe have lost them, but I would like to be certain."

He gave the nearest couple of bodies a quick once-over before he turned to keep heading away from the way they'd come.

Trask continued to scan the area as the dead and dying lay in the water. He indicated that he was ok with moving off as he waited for the rest of the party moved off, covering them as they did.



-

Trask's thermal was not picking up anything through the trees in the direction of their back-trail. But they would be coming.

"Yeah, let's get outta here!"

Luke led the way deeper into the swamp.

After about a mile they came to a much wider waterway that cut straight through the moss-draped forest. It was filled with brown water clogged with logs and branches.


"I think this is the old drainage canal that paralleled the river. If we go left we'll cut back to the road. If we go right we go deeper into the forest."

"Guess we'd better decide what our objective is, beyond avoiding those hoodlums on the river boat. That would give us a better idea of which direction to take," said Smoker, squatting on his haunches for a brief rest.

  "The river is your people right? Then we head that way. Unless someone has a better idea. Not proud of it, but we need to get out of here and quick."

Peter glanced at Luke and let him lead the way. He was more familiar with the area supposedly, but....they'd only just met him recently. He might be the decent person he seemed to be, but Peter had been burned before. Too many in the wasted world took advantage of others, learned to lie and deceive well.

...as he knew all too well personally, and the bitter thought made his soul cringe a bit.

He looked at Luke and then along way they could for a long moment each. "Unless going back to the road will bring us too close to the river...bandits..." He'd been about to call them something else but changed his mind, "I suppose that way would be my vote. After all, we will eventually need to leave. But we came here to go deeper in to the city."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 105):

The young man drawled in his Louisan accent, "ah want to make sure we all don't get lost in this swamp. Who knows where we turn up? My boat is on the river, so let's go towards the old highway. That way we can circle back."

He led the way, turning left and leading then to the old highway.

Soon, they came to the highway. About a half mile up the road was a column of smoke from the still-burning wreckage of the semi and other vehicles they'd destroyed.

On the highway could see about thirty of the "scavvs", dressed in the same weird gator-skin armour and rags, carrying pipe-rifles, pipe-pistols and blunderbusses, like the ones they ambushed. The mob looked like it was returning from scavenging the vehicles they had taken out before, lugging whatever loot they could carry and dragging pallets with the rest. A few were keeping a lookout to the sides but most seemed relaxed and happy at the riches they'd salvaged.

The posse was hidden in the thick forest to the north of the road on the east side of the old canal, while the mob was heading back towards the river. So far no one seemed to notice them.

The scavenger in Smoker was incensed: all that bounty being carted off by a bunch of thugs when there were people who could make constructive use of it?

He swore quietly into his beard.

Brother Edgar was more than content to allow the very large, armed group of scavs to wander back off with their scavengings.  Fairly won.  Good for them.

Peter watched through narrowed eyes as the scavengers, the bandits, looted. He restrained himself from anything, even from letting out a little sigh of frustration. It was the way of the world these days. Nothing to be done about it right then, especially when doing anything would likely get himself and his allies killed. And the bandits would still be there to keep on killing and scavenging, even if slightly less in numbers.

He glanced at the others to make sure they too were doing alright with just watching and not acting.

Front their vantage point Trask stayed still as he watched the bandits, it would seem they were not deemed that much of a threat if this band went off looting.



-

It seemed that loot was more important to the strangly-dressed scavvs than hunting them down. They managed to get a couple weapons and an unknown (but probably small) quantity of ammunition. Some fuel in leaky containers, a number of odds and ends like personal effects (a backpack, flashlights, minor supplies). Not a lot of food or drinks.

Unless the posse attacked it seemed likely they would be passed by.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 112):

Seeing that no one seemed to want to get in a fight, Luke also faded into the foliage.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 112):

The mob of oddly-dressed Scavvs passed them by, walking slowly back towards the river. They got smaller and smaller receding in the distance. Finally they were gone. There was still a column of black smoke rising from the site of the vehicles they wrecked earlier. The buzz of insects and chirp of birds resumed their volume of a dull roar.

Peter was in no hurry to get in to a fight with, or even alert to their presence, that many hostile-intended peoples. Poorly-armed was still armed, after all. And numbers trumped superior firepower often.

So he waited quietly, trying to stay still while they waited. Several times he felt uncomfortable and had to very extremely slowly shift around slightly to alleviate things like a leg cramping or a foot starting to go to sleep. But he was diligent.

Once they left he let out a breath and turned to the others, and then Luke. "Well, I suppose it should be safe to keep moving once more." He gestured forward for Luke since he knew the area better. "Shall we?"

Trask was the last to follow the boy Luke he covered their six before following along. A couple of sensor sweeps and then he follows behind.


-

 Chricton had the Hellstromme SAW out and was waiting for any indication that they would turn and attack. When it didn't happen he waits for the group to get moving.

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 117):

The scavvs passed by them without paying them a glance.

About half an hour later, the drumming on the river started up again. It got louder, indicating the river boat was getting underway, then faded into the distance, maybe upriver.

Returning to the ruined amusement part on the riverbank, they made sure from cover the riverboat was truly gone.

Luke showed them where his own, well-hidden boat was stashed. "I'll wait here while you check your stuff," he said.

Their raft was wrecked. But the scavvs had also found their Humvee and ganked the CB radio and battery, plus drained the diesel from the fuel tank. Now they had no way of raising the colony of Near Alexandria where their friends had gone.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 118):

"Hey, we have a shortwave radio in the town. You're welcome to use it, if you need to.

"We call where we live "Red Stick". A play on Baton Rouge. You guys coming?"

He had already lifted the driftwood and debris he'd piled onto his own boat, a medium-sized aluminum bass boat with an outboard engine, and pushed it into the muddy water of the riverbank.

The boat looked like it could hold everyone, including Trask's battlesuit. If they didn't move too much!

Trask looked at Luke and then at the boat and then back at Luke before stepping onto the vessel and finding a seat dead in the middle. "That's a piss about the Humvee, we should see if we can recover it before it get well roached."


-

Peter let out an angry sigh as he looked over the humvee. The raft he barely gave a second glance and didn't seem to care too much about - but the vehicle? It seemed to anger him. He muttered to himself, "at least it was not my truck."

He glanced at Luke and gave a weary nod. "That is...likely the best idea at this point. Thank you."

He looked over at Trask. "Do not look at me. I drive vehicles but I am no mechanic."

But he nevertheless began looking through the vehicle to see if anything salvageable had been missed by the scavs.

OOC: Luke's boat was untouched? Was it hidden or farther away? Or is that weird?

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 121):

Luke's raft was very well-hidden. The posse had probably walked by it at least once without knowing it was there underneath the debris and driftwood.

The Humvee still had some spare engine parts. But the fuel had been siphoned off and the battery was also gone.

Meanwhile, the drumming sound had faded completely. Insects began humming and buzzing about. A hawk circled high above riding a thermal off the river.

Smoker also looked the vehicle over with a practiced eye. Rank amateur scavengers, who had made such a mess grabbing for stuff that half of what they'd taken wouldn't be usable. He made a sound of disgust.

Trask flipped up the helmet on his suit and looked at Luke, "Do you know much about the scavengers in the boat ?"


-

They had even cut all the hoses and wires, as well as tried (and failed) to slash the run-flats. Someone had even used the front seat as a toilet.

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 124):

"I have never seen or heard of those freaks, ever. We keep a watch on the river and they have not passed by before."

Marshall's Note: you can make an opposed Scrutinize test to detect if he's lying.

Peter was no stranger to weird things happening, unknown assholes showing up out of the blue, and people lying about things. He looked intensely at Luke for a moment and listened hard to see if there were any of the telltale signs of someone spinning a falsehood, or even just a tiny white lie.

He then stepped away from the vehicle in disgust. "What a waste." He shook his head. "I suppose we should get going."


20:42, Today: Peter Firecrow rolled 11 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+5)11.  Scrutinize.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 127):

The young man seemed sincere and was being honest, as far as he could tell.

Brother Edgar remained by the boat and awaited the others in their perusal of the scavenged vehicles.  He wouldn't be of any extra help and, he had a feeling, they'd end up in Luke's boat anyway.  When that did prove to be the case, he stepped aboard and did his best to assist everyone else into the boat in whatever ways seemed best.

 Chricton didn't even blink when he saw the stripped Hummer. It was the fate of most vehicles in the new order. The technical might be crowded getting everyone back towards home, but that was the way it was on the way here. He waited by the boat as well for everyone who was searching it to finish. "Trask needs to sit dead center of the boat if possible. Weight and all that."

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 130):

"Yes, yes no problem. Just hold the damn thing still while I get there.... I did not opt for the amphibious upgrade." He did just that and then sat in the middle.



-

Peter let out a small amused snort at Crichton's words and Trask's response. It lightened his very sour mood slightly, which was a good thing. He drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment and then let it out slowly - trying to let out all his anger, frustration, and other negative emotions with it.

He followed after Luke and tried to help steady things for Trask.

Carefully, they loaded up the bass boat and, with some difficulty due to the fact the weight was making it stick to the mud, pushed off.

The sun was starting to go down now, almost touching the green eastern horizon. That was the direction they were heading. To the ruins that poked out of the water and mangrove swamp that covered the old capital of Louisiana, Baton Rouge.

"I figure let's give it a few more minutes. Once the sun goes down those freaks, if they're still around, may not see us," Kirby suggested.

Peter turned and looked over at Luke for just a second. Then he looked back out at the retreating sun. He gave a slow now, looking thoughtful. "Yes. That sounds like a sound plan."

He let out a small sigh. His thoughts were of Jane and he hoped she was having better luck than they were. "Do you have any family, Luke? Or anyone special?"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 134):

Once everyone was aboard, Luke pulled on the starter cord and the motor coughed to life.

"Family? Ah, no, they all died just after the war. When I was found by Sheriff Reynard on the highway to the west, he brought me to Nouveau Baton Rouge, "Red Stick". Mr. Tinsdale, the town engineer, took me in. He made sure I got an education. I'm his apprentice now. I don't really have any special, like a girlfriend. Not right now."

They puttered out into the river. The sun would set soon. It was cool on the water, as the temperature dropped several degrees and they left the swamp's humidity behind. Off to the right was the ruins of a massive bridge, which stretched halfway from the western bank, then plunged into the brown Mississippi water in a tangle of rusted steel and rebar concrete.

After about an hour they had crossed the river and reached the boundary of the old city ruins. It was twilight. But Old Baton Rouge did not seem to have many tall buildings and so all they saw wasa  few buildings stuck above the dark brown water, clogged with vegetation. The odd treetop, tower or other piece of wreckage also poked above the water. Finally, when they got to where the downtown core used to be. A handful of buildings thrust above the water, surrounded by a low wall of debris just above the waterline.

They saw what looked like electric lights in the buildings, and on lines strung between them. When they came in sight of what looked like a gate, Luke cut the engine and the boat coasted forward.

Brother Edgar had used the boat ride to once again try to clear his pathways.  To recenter and reopen to the warmth of the Glow.  He had been pouring the divine energy through himself at a terrible rate in a short time...  A restful boatride was a fine opportunity.  Of course, it could all end in tragedy, but it was a fact he accepted when he stepped onto the boat.  He would trust in the Glow.

As they approached the entrance to the flooded city, he did perk up a bit though and take a look around.

Trask stayed perfectly still in the boat and watched the scenery pass by as they floated down the river. As the lights of the settlement came into view he voiced what he was thinking "I could do with a drink."


-

Peter looked over at Luke. "I am sorry for your loss. I know what that is like." Which was a pretty stupid thing to say. Everyone, or almost everyone, knew what loss was like in the post apocalyptic world.

However, some good things seemed to have happened in Luke's life. "It is good to hear that you were able to find shelter and care. That is rare in this world nowadays."

He quieted after that as they rode on for a while. He peered outward as he saw the lights. "I am assume we are close now? The lights and gate?"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 138):

They were now gliding quietly in between the ruins of skyscrapers in what had been downtown. Some reached ten stories or more, ending in twisted girders reaching to the dark sky above like bleached bones in the moonlight. They could see glimpses of rooftops beneath them under the water.

"Thanks, I guess we all lost people in the war." The young man seemed grateful for Peter's empathy.

Luke nodded at Peter's question. "Yeah. Don't want to spook the watch post. We're coming up on it in a minute."

They drifted out from the maze of shattered skyscrapers into an open area of water. What looked to be an island in the middle turned out to be a wall of rubble 20 feet high rising above the surface, enclosing a group of still standing skyscrapers. There were lights in many of the windows and strung on lines and bridges connecting them. A generator thumped away, somewhere.

Their path took them in the direction of a gap that served as a portal through the wall of rubble into the inner compound. A spotlight shone out from beside the entrance, illuminating them.

"Halt and identify yourselves!" Luke made sure they knew who he was ("Luke Kirby, with some friends!") and they let the boat pass. On either side of the gap were sandbagged bunkers. Razor and concertina wire lined the top of the wall. The sentries didn't show themselves, they just let them pass. Kirby started the electric motor again, steering them safely inside the gate.

Once through the gate in the wall they could see there was no solid ground here, just a half-dozen lit-up skyscrapers linked with steel and wood bridges. They all had floating or fixed docks lit by lanters, and some had several docks. There were several small craft moored at the various docks but most looked to be rafts, rowboats or flat-bottomed skiffs. They could hear some kind of live music being played in one of the buildings.

Kirby aimed at the dock of the closest building. "This is the Sheriff's office. Sheriff Reynard will want to hear about those weird river pirates. And any other news you have to share."

This message was last edited by the player at 08:06, Thu 18 Feb 2021.

"Where's the music coming from ? Is that your watering hole ?" was all Trask said as they drifted up to the dock. He then looked about how to get off the boat without ending over the side.


-

Smoker looked around for a line, then hopped nimbly onto the dock ready to pull the boat in.

Brother Edgar was happy to wait patiently for the boat to be tied up and others to exit.  No need to rush.  Brother Edgar was never one to rock the boat.  Even when given the literal opportunity.  To Luke, he offered with a friendly smile, "After all your assistance, that's the least that we could do."  Once the others had disembarked, the Doomsayer would join them on the dock as well.

Peter looked around as they went along. The ruins of the skyscrapers were...still magnificent even in their ruin. He was no stranger to them as some younger people were. He had seen them before the War. He thought about what technology was 'buried', but he knew most of it was unsalvageable or dangerous to try.

He nodded at Luke's affirmation. He stayed quiet as they were allowed entry, casually eyeing the defenses, but not looking too close. He gave nod about the sheriff. "Of course. I will let you do the talking, but will answer questions or help if you need."

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 140):

Luke laughed. "Yeah," he replied to Trask, "that's Shady Sadie's! Great music, a little slow 'cause it's a Wednesday.

"I'll see what I can do to rig up a trickle-charger for your suit."

The music was a rollicking tune in a sytle that Trask recognised as "Zydeco", with a pronounced accordion sound and generally up-tempo beat. The singer was a man and the words were in French.

That song ended, and a slightly more folksy but nevertheless a bit spooky and apocalyptic guitar-driven song started:

"Sign of the gypsy queen,
 Pack your things and leave.
 Word of a woman who knows.
 Take all your gold and go..."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mnzfrn5iN-o

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0EklmSeQTE
This message was last edited by the player at 18:51, Wed 24 Feb 2021.

As they docked, Luke thanked Brother Edgar. "My pleasure. If ya'll hadn't rescued me I'd be in several digestive tracts right now.

"And sure, Peter, I guess I should do the talking."

After the boat was tied up he helped Trask out. The solid concrete building rose three stories out of the water. A sign over the entryway (a converted window) marked it as the SHERIFF'S OFFICE". What was probably once a floor of offices was cleared out so that half was a waiting room with a massive old oak desk on the far wall and the other walls lined with crude wooden benches, some with iron rings bolted to them to anchor handcuffs. The carpet was worn and stained, and some of the windows were boarded up.

After hooking up a power lead from Trask's suit to a wall outlet, Luke spoke to the Deputy on duty, explaining the situation. Deputy Russel Comfort was dressed in a khaki Deputy's uniform with police vest, and armed with an 7.62mm SA M10 rifle leaning against the desk and a .357 Ruger revolver on his hip. Luke described the attack by the mutated rodents, then the appearance of the strange riverboat, the smaller boats it launched and the pack of scavvs that had tried to hunt them through the swamp.

As well, he described Kargo, the biker they were chasing, but no strangers had come through any of the gates that day, only residents and locals.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:16, Wed 03 Mar 2021.

Smoker stood quietly at the back. Even when he'd done nothing wrong, he was a bit twitchy around law enforcement. Heck, done nothing wrong? Kargo had robbed him!

Peter listened to the music for a moment but then shook his head. Maybe later he could afford to get distracted and relax, but not yet. He glanced at Trask and the suit when Luke spoke up about a trickle-charge. That would be helpful, though it wouldn't be fast. However, he assumed they would be staying the night at this point. Wandering around in the dark in unfamiliar territory sounded like a bad idea.

He looked slowly around the Sheriff's Office after they entered. He really hoped he never ended up a 'guest' there. He frowned. "Excuse me. Is there anywhere else in the area that someone might be able to go to or hole up in and be relatively safe?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:58, Sat 27 Feb 2021.

Through Luke's accounting, Brother Edgar would mostly remain silent and attentive.  If there was a part or two where his helpful offering some extra detail might help the tale-telling, the Doomsayer would offer it.  Especially when the story turned to Kargo and their reason for being out here in the first place.

When Peter asked his apt question, Edgar nodded and looked to Luke and the Deputy to see how they would answer...

Trask followed the others, but did not enter the sheriffs office. He preferred to stay outside and take in the surroundings. He needed a drink and a smoke and some company of the female kind.


-

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 147):

The deputy answered, "no, there are no other communities up or down the river for at least twenty miles. Alexandria is the closest colony upriver, you probably don't want to go downriver to the Big Easy.

"Aside from that ship of freaks you ran into, there haven't been river bandits for a couple years now but I can't rule out they might have established a new camp or reoccupied an old one."

They'd actually passed by Alexandria on their way south, so it seemed unlikely Kargo would have taken shelter there. The deputy also seemed curious as to what Peter was getting at but apparently wasn't hiding anything.

Brother Edgar offered, hopefully helpfully, "Perhaps our quarry was found by the boat raiders?  Joining them wouldn't be out of style for him...  Or perhaps he was taken by them, which wouldn't seem out of style for them..."  On second thought, the thought of having to check on that possibility didn't seem all that helpful.  Or hopeful.  Another thought, the Doomsayer turned to the Deputy, "Why wouldn't we want to go downriver to...the Big Easy?"

 Chricton had remained silent for the most part during their trip and when they got to the sheriff's office. He remains silent as Luke tells their story. But when the deputy mentions Alexandria he chuckles mostly to himself. He follows it up with "Unlikely at the very least."

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 151):

At the mention of your quarry, the Deputy (who's name was "Comfort") questions you a little further and then calls the gate outposts on a telephone. He shook his head at the answer. "Uh huh. Thanks."

"No one of dat description come through here," he drawled. "There might be a couple places near Red Stick he could be hiding, tall buildings that are comin' out the water and the like. Ain't no one livin' on the east bank. But he'd need to be a local to know 'bout dem. And den dere's the 'gators he better be lookin' out for. Any how, Sheriff Reynard gonna wanna talk to you kind folks, find out what's what wit' dat crazy-ass boat ya'all done seen. We ain't heard nothin' like it.

"And thanks again for ya'all helpin' Luke out. We like the kid aroun' here. We owe ya'all one, yes we do."

"And speakin' of the Big Easy, dey got dem crazy Krewes down dere. It's Mardi Gras all de time. De party, she never stop. We had some folks went down dere to trade couple a weeks back. It's like dey went loco, dey never wanna come back. We hear dey still alive, just don't wanna leave. And dey got family here, all dey stuff. Don't make no sense."

Outside, Trask wasn't able to recharge his suit. As he looked into the darkness he heard the humming of an electric motor and an airboat came into view, heading their way. (An airboat was a flat-bottomed skiff that instead of using underwater propulsions used a large airplane-style propeller, inside a safety cage mounted to the rear. The operator sat on a high chair in front of the motor that powered the propeller.)

Peter's eyebrows went up when he learned the man's name. Comfort was...unusual. The accent was interesting as well, but Peter wasn't one to throw stones. He listened to the Deputy intently, and not just to because he had to make sure to sort through the accent.

He let out a small frustrated sigh when they were told that Kargo hadn't entered the town and hadn't been seen. What the hell was going on? Did Kargo know the area or someone in the area? Something didn't feel right.

When thanked he nodded absently, "Of course. We were happy to help. Those...people..." He said that word with such disdain. "There were too many, too organized. It is a shame." He paused. "Do you think we could get good directions to those buildings you were talking about, or perhaps a guide? We really need to find this thief if we can."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:26, Thu 04 Mar 2021.

Brother Edgar's brows knit with concern at the "explanation" of the Big Easy and those who go there.  Anymore questions can wait for later.  He did opt to reinforce the urgency of Peter's request, "Aye...  It never works out well to give this Kargo too much time to think or prepare.  He tends to cause trouble...for everyone."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 154):

The Deputy nodded. "uh-huh, you know dat boy, Luke, he can show you aroun', sure enough. He can get ya'all started in the morning.

"I think I hear the Sheriff's boat comin' outside. She gonna wanna hear about dem boat freaks."

Sure enough, they could hear an electric-powered airboat arrive outside.

Brother Edgar gave a small nod and smiled in his gentle, friendly way, "Of course.
Happy to offer what assistance we can, even if it is just to tell the tale."
"

Trask raised a hand in greeting as the boat come up to the dock. His helmet was open to let in some fresh air so he did not look as menacing at the off.


-

Peter gave another slow nod to the deputy. "Thank you." He looked over at Luke with a very small smile. "Luke has been helpful and kind thus far."

He will look back at the deputy and then towards where the sound of the boat was coming from. "Very well. Should we wait here for them, or go out to meet them? Or...?"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 159):

"Why thank you Deputy, uh, Brother Edgar, Mr. Firecrow.

"I'll be happy to show ya'all around. Let's see if we can het ya'all something to eat and a place to bunk for the night?"

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 158):

A middle-aged woman hopped out of the airboat and tied it off. She gave Trask in his idling armour a sideways glance. "Sheriff Reynard.

"The Deputy said Luke brought some folks from across the river. And you were all attacked by funny-lookin' river pirates. That true, and your friends are inside?"

"Trask, yep all true. Big old thing with a cannon and slaves on the oars. They are all inside...."



-

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 162):

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. What are you all doing in our corner of the swamp? If you don't mind me askin'."

Sheriff Reynard was dressed in an old well-cared for pre-war East Baton Rouge Sheriff's Dept. uniform, which was why she went by that title instead of the more common "Marshall". Reynard was armed with a .50AE Southern Eagle, the CSA officer sidearm that Trask was well familiar with. There was a lever-action rifle in the boat. However, she kept her hands away from her belt holster, for now.

"Chasing down a stolen bike, we thought the thief may have come though these parts, but that is starting to look a little sketchy. It's a big swamp with lots of places to hide."


-

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 164):

Not realising he meant a hoverbike, she replied, "uh-huh. Bikes don't float too well, neither. You chasin' someone special?"

"He is special alright as he seems to be able to disappear into thin air, goes by the name of Kargo." he gives the sheriff a description of the guy.


-

"It's a hoverbike. So it won't float at all. Kargo stole our friend's bike and nearly killed another. We are going to catch him one way or another. At this point having chased him from Junkyard I would just as well it be other. He has had an incredible amount of luck to get away from us this long."

The Sheriff heard Crichton's voice behind her as she pushed open the screen door leading to the wharf and turned.

"Hoverbike? Makes sense. Ya'all come all the way from Junkyard, you say? Halfway 'cross the Wasted West, if I don't mind saying.

She introduced herself.

"I'm Sheriff Reynard. Your friend, uh, Trask, he's fine where he is, I don't mind.

"Now, how 'bout ya'all tell me everything that happened up to an including when that... pirate boat showed up. Might be a coincidence. Might not. How long this "Kargo" feller was hangin' round before they done showed up?"

Peter stepped towards the conversation and gave a nod to the Sheriff. "I am Peter Firecrow. Nice to meet you. Your town seems nice and well protected."

He gave her a brief account of the pertinent information about the pirates, the boat and the encounter they had with it, not lying nor leaving much of anything out of it.

Brother Edgar had moved along with the others, offering a quick introduction of, "Brother Edgar," when it seemed appropriate.  At the Sheriff's asking for explanations and tales, the Doomsayer took the lead to offer the story.  He tells the tale without embellishment, with enough detail that the Sheriff will get the main ideas easy enough.  Not too much, not too little.

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 170):

She listened, then asked, "this Kargo feller, you tailed him from Junkyard. You say he met up with a convoy that came all the way from Vivian. Yeah, we heard of that place. Shame it's gone. Folks used to come from all over the Wasted West to race there, at the track.

"So ya'all got in front of 'em before they reached the river. Ambushed 'em good. The folks in this convoy, some of them escaped. But this Kargo, he kept on goin' to the river. And across it. Then out of nowhere this crazy boat shows up. Ya'all think that's coincidence?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:02, Tue 27 Apr 2021.

Peter listened to the sheriff talk, nodded silently about the first part of what she had to say. That seemed to track with what they knew of Vivian, though it mattered little know. He frowned a bit as she finished, however.

"I...we cannot say. It is...possible? Despite my cynicism, coincidence DOES happen sometimes." He shook his head. "I do not like the timing of it, regardless." He looked down and then back at her. "Are you suggesting he might be in league with them? Have...aimed them...at us?"

 "I'd honestly love that. Just another reason to end the fool." he says as he shakes his head.

"Who knows, the worlds a very strange place now...." Trask closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose, it had been a very long day.



-

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 172):

The Sheriff was now inside, so Trask moved to the door to remain a part of the conversation. She seemed unfazed with the revelation there were vampires running around.

She replied to Peter, "naw, I don't think that. But ya'all been followin' yer "friend" from Junkyard. Let's say he's not runnin' randomly but is going in a direction. He meets up with them Nosferatu up in Vivian. They come here. Then that boat shows up. I don't think he done "aimed" them at you, but maybe he was trying to meet up with one group, and they were coming here. Or something like that. Ya'all kind of put a spanner in the works. Maybe."

Brother Edgar simply nodded and shrugged at that.  He even smiled a bit, "We are quite good at disrupting plans.  It may not pay well, but it's honest work.  We would appreciate any other thoughts you might have.  Guidance.  Suggestions.  If you intend to send anyone after this boat, we would likely be happy to assist.  It is, as you pointed out, our best lead. "

Peter opened his mouth, and then slowly closed it. They were not a full strength, half their Posse away. But if the sheriff had people in the town willing to help them, they might stand...half a chance at taking on the boat-slavers. But he didn't relish the thought. Numbers were a big advantage.

He gave a small nod. "You may be right. It would make sense to go somewhere familiar, where you might have some backup, if chased or cornered."

When the opportunity arrived Trask asked the sheriff if there was a place he could get some juice for his rig and perhaps a place to store it. "If there is a cell free I'd appreciate it." he said think apart from the bank vault it was probably the safest place in the town.



-

Sheriff Reynard excused herself to talk to Luke for a while.

“Sorry to put you folks through the third degree, but these days it pays to be careful.

“I’ve talked to Luke, and from what he says, you’re good people. Now, Luke is a little too friendly sometimes, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

She nodded at Trask's question. "For saving his life, you’ve earned yourselves a couple days’ keep here—and don’t think that ain’t a reward. Food don’t come cheap anymore, even out here.

“You folks want a little more, I’ll give you the chance to earn it. Now, Luke tells me we’ve got a whole mess of river scum drifting down to us. From the sounds of it, we’re going to have a bit of a fracas here pretty soon.

“I’ve made sure every adult that lives here is armed. Of course, when it comes to weapons, we’ve got to make do with what we can find. I don’t think more than half of them have anything more advanced than a board with a nail in it. All told, we’ve only got 10 guns in the whole town.

“From what the young man says, you folks are pretty handy in a fight, and we sure could use you if it comes to that. Also, it looks like you’re carrying nearly as much ordinance as we have here in town. Even if we had that kind of firepower, most of my folks wouldn’t know how to use it anyway.

"I think we can help one another. I suspect the fugitive you are chasing might have hooked up with that crew. And I think they might be payin' us a visit here, real soon.

“Mr. Tinsdale’s recyclers found an old Civil Defense pod a few weeks ago. Give us a hand holding off the scavs long enough for them to look elsewhere. In return, I’ll give you some of our stock of milrats—enough to feed the lot of you for a week. And, they won’t make you glow in the dark, either.

“Listen, we’re a small community. We’ll give you all that we can afford to give, but we really need your help—that’s the bottom line.”

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 178):

"No problem, Mr. Trask! I'll see what I can do to get you hooked up."

Luke got to work wiring up Trask's suit to the power grid for recharging.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:23, Sat 10 Apr 2021.

Brother Edgar listened politely to the Sheriff's words and suggestion.  He also politely let the part about the milrats not making you "glow in the dark."  As he, in fact, does glow in the dark already.  The Doomsayer, instead, smiled in a friendly fashion.  He gave a quick glance to the others, but his own personal convictions lead him to answer first, "I can't refuse a request for help from good folk.  Luke helped us, even as we helped him.  You and your deputy have been welcoming.  Which, to my mind, says a lot for your town."  He gestured lightly to his strange metal rod, then to the knife on his belt, "I carry no ordinance, but I do have certain skills that may help."

Peter made a scoffing noise at Brother Edgar. "Heh. 'Certain skills'." He smiled and shook his head. "Understatement of the century."

He thought about it for a moment and then sighed, nodding. "Sheriff, I also would be willing to help you, with only a little reluctance as there seemed to be quite a lot of people on that boat. But..." he conceded, "You may be right about where our fugitive is and I am not crazy enough to take the boat on by ourselves out here in unfamiliar territory."

Though...a night raid might not be the worst idea. Or at least a reconnaissance mission. He pondered to himself.

"I'll do whatever I can," offered Smoker. He wasn't sure what he could do, but he was happy to help.

Trask ran a few diagnostic programs while his suit was getting jacked in and then he left it, changing into suitable attire for a night on the titles in the close saloon. "I am up for a little pirate hunting, but first I believe a little R&R might be in order. I'll get the first round in.... yes ?" he looked at the collected group with his Cavalry Campaign hat in hand and was wearing the shirt and pants to match.



-

  Chricton sat back and listened to the Sheriff's proposal and chuckled when she mentioned ten guns in the whole town. "You just doubled the available guns from myself alone. So long as I get the gun back I don't mind lending them out. That being said other than the Hellstromme SAW bullets are in shorter supply than I would like. If we had ghost rock and a few days I could fix even that. And a week we could likely have everyone equipped with a lesser version of my railgun here."

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 185):

"However you folks want to help out we are much obliged. You can check with Mr. Tinsdale the city engineer if he has any ghost rock to spare.

"As for quarters, we have decent ones here. This floor is the front desk and booking, holding and offices. Second floor are cells. Third are bunks for personnel and a canteen. There's power for the night due to batteries charged the solar cells on the roof, unlike the rest of the town.

"If that's all then it's not that late but I got an early morning. We'll either see if we can take a poke at that riverboat, or at least prepare our defenses here."

Peter listened to the Sheriff and then gave a nod after they finished speaking. "Thank you for the hospitality. It is appreciated."

He looked at his allies, thinking but for a moment. "I suppose we should see about eating something before we go to sleep for the night." He smiled. "I would not mind listening to some music and relaxing before we sleep, yes?"

Brother Edgar shrugged humbly to Peter's note of understatement.  But chose not to explain anything more.  Somethings are best eased into with the Doomed.  As to the offer of hospitality and Peter's idea of R&R, the Doomsayer smiled, "It has been a long while since we could relax so.  Would hate to miss it."

"To the bar then..." Trask said from the door. He turned and made his way to the establishment following the sound of the music and voices to guide him. A beer was needed and he was on the look out for a game or two.


-

The Sheriff's office had two walkways leading out over the dark water.

One walkway led to the Town Hall, a glass-and-steel office building that stood 5 stories above the water.

The other walkway led to part of the scaffolding that allowed access to the perimeter rubble wall, and from there Shady Sadie's.

Luke led you over to the brightly lit bar. There were several boats tied up there at the wharf. Inside were a dozen locals at a few tables. There was a man playing a lively zydeco tune on an accordion and accompanying music synthesiser. Conversation slowed but didn't stop when the posse entered, and picked up after Luke introduced you to Sadie.

"Howdy boys, what are you having? I trade in bullets, Ghost rock, salvage, whatever you got. We have beer on tap, a house ale, plus whiskey."

Trask made his way to the bar as he did hen tipped his hat to a couple of the people present. He takes it off as he get to the bar and listens to Sadie as she outlines what's available.

As he said he gets in the first round of beers and a couple of shots of whiskey for himself before looking for a table. As he waits for their drinks to be poured he scans the room for a card game or lady company or both.



-

Peter gave a small nod to the crowd, a neutral to friendly blanket greeting or acknowledgement. He wasn't here to start a fight or anything. He gave Sadie a very small and quick smile along with a small bow of his head for polite greeting as he listened to what she had to say.

"Hello, I am Peter. It is nice to meet you." He nodded to Trask but asked anyway, "Just so I know for later, how much is the whiskey?" He paused and smiled slightly. "And how good is it?"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 192):

Beer was $1 a glass, Whiskey was $2 a shot.

The Louisianans warmed up quickly to the posse. There was a card game going, and there were a couple pleasant middle-aged women among the patrons.

However, it was getting late. Everyone began drinking up.

Peter drank the purchased first round. Then he ordered a shot of whiskey. He wanted to see what they had, see how it held up to memory. It had been a while since he really good whiskey. As well as a few other things.

But one shot was enough. After that, he said he was going to go to bed. It had been a long day.

Trask downed both whiskeys before taking the beers back to the table. He took his time to look the place and the patrons over. The ladies present looked like the kind to take offence to being asked if they charge for their time and the card game looked like the type were wagers stayed low so everyone stayed friends even if luck deserted you.

All in all what he expected, so he would have to make do with the liquor to make the night pass.



-

  Much akin to Peter, Chricton, had his obligatory drinks and said good night. He looked at Trask "Don't cause trouble and get to bed at some point. Gonna need you tomorrow." as he himself heads off to bed.

Trask looked at Crichton from over the top of his beer glass as he places it back on the table. "I don't think I could start something even if I wanted to." he waved his hand at the surrounding crowd.


-

Smoker took a shot of whiskey and sat nursing it. He wasn't a heavy drinker and had developed the talent of making a drink last a very long time so people thought he'd had a night of it when he'd only had a couple...

Shady Sadie's kept going for a good couple hours after the town power was shut off. There were banks of solar cells on the roof, no doubt charging batteries that kept the lights on. But it was getting late.

Luke yawned.

"Long day, fellers! Time for me to turn in. You guys have beds at the Sheriff's office if I'm not mistaken.

"I'm going back to my place. Stop by there after breakfast. Tinsdale's salvage yard. The man's a wizard with fixin' stuff up."

"Sounds like my kind of guy," said Smoker, who was reaching the bottom of his whiskey and was quite ready for his bed.

"Sleep well. I shall see you tomorrow."

Tidy-minded as always, he returned his shot glass to the bar before departing for his bed.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 200):

Trask's summation of the local action was correct. This was no high-stakes game, and the ladies were not ones of easy virtue.

The bar lights went on and off, indicating it was time to go.

Marshall's Note: If everyone is done for the night I'll make a morning post in a couple days.

The Posse was put up for the night in the Sheriff's station, only one of a few buildings in town that still had lights on. Trask's Wolverine suit was rigged to recharge off the building generator.

Night was peaceful. Dawn came, and with it breakfast, sent over by Sadie for the Posse and the on-duty Deputy Sheriff.

The phone connecting the Sheriff's station to the different outposts on the wall jangled. Sheriff Reynard, up with the dawn to take care of business, answered it. She swore, then (still holding the receiver) walked over to the door of the canteen where the Posse was finishing breakfast.

"Lookouts at the main gate say they think they spotted a flatboat like the ones you saw yesterday. It was a couple hundred yards out. Now it's hiding. Looks like they're scouting us out. Probably to in order to attack."

Trask was standing by the front door finishing off a breakfast of coffee and a smoke. He listened to the report and then added "We should try to take a couple alive, though thats not really my thing...."


-

  "I'm heading over to the town scrapper. If we can get a couple of days I can probably rig up a few more of my rifles. I got handguns to spare but ammo will be an issue. If I build a stripped down version I could probably churn out a few." Chricton says as he heads out to find the town maintenance/guy.

  Chricton heads out to find his new friend.

Peter paused in mid-bite and then let out a growl. He shook his head and said, "Well. That is not completely unexpected...but it is also not good." He looked at the Sheriff. "I guess...at least you had warning?"

He glanced at Crichton and gave a noncommittal half-shrug. "Not sure how long we have." He frowned in thought. "Should we...attempt to go get the scouts before they have a chance to report back? So defenses wouldn't be known, might make them...hesitate to attack?"

Brother Edgar did not stop his breakfast for the news.  He did start to eat a little quicker, but was obviously determined to have that breakfast finished by the time the rest decided to go after the scouts.  As the would.  As they should.  He did pause long enough to sip some water and question gently, "Is it better for them to know all our capabilities and maybe hesitate or that they should take back incorrect information to blunder in to more than they bargained for?"  The Doomsayer went back after his breakfast, a renewed brightness to his ever-present glow flickering under his hood, "Or perhaps it is better that they don't return at all?"

  "No report is best, but second best is no contact. Leaves them guessing on what we can do. Not sure if they know we made it here but if they do they at least know about Trask." he says before walking out the door.

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 207):

Taking a box from her desk she opened it and handed out gold star badges marked, "EAST BATON ROUGE PARISH SHERIFF'S DEPUTY" to each of the posse members.

"Ya'all are now formally deputised."

Sheriff Reynard then opened the arms locker to hand out weapons to the half-dozen townspeople deputised for town defence. Inside were three .308 bolt-action scoped hunting rifles, two 12-ga. pump-guns, two .357 revolvers and a .50AE "Southern Eagle" SA Officer's sidearm. These were quickly given out, along with what ammunition was available, generally a full magazine plus one reload per weapon.

"This is a terrible time for Mayor Thiboudeax to go missing." She shook her head, explaining, "he went down to N'Awlins a week ago to see if he could find our missing people. Now he's gone too, won't come back! Our town Doctor, Janice Rawls, is kind of our Deputy Mayor until he gets back. If he does."

"If you wanna chase 'em down, you take my airboat. Ain't nothin' on the river faster than won't get caught up on debris. They musta rowed in, we would heard 'em otherwise."

"Who? Me?"

Smoker spent most of his time on if not the wrong side of the law at leastskating on very thin ice as far as law enforcement was concerned.

He did like the idea of piloting an airboat though. They were vessels that fascinated him.

"I'm not sure your airboat will be able to haul my suit ? I can hang back here, stealth is really not my strong suit."


-

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 210):

"I use it to haul cargo and salvage, I can haul your suit. It'll slow it down some. You want to go without, I got a Police vest you can borrow."

Indeed, there was a pile of such Kevlar vests she was handing out to the newly-deputised militia.

"And Tech Sargeant, if you want to go look in Tinsdale's scrapyard for useful stuff to defend the town, you go on ahead and make yourself at home. Mr. Tinsdale won't mind at all."

Peter eyed the sheriff with a light frown, eyebrows drawn closer together. He took the badge delicately, hesitantly, clearing not wanting the 'authority' or blatant responsibility, despite his desire to help. He held back a sigh.

"I am not certain we can sneak up on them in the airboat, but at least we would be faster and able to cut them off hopefully." He looked at his companions. "Is that our plan then? Go take the scouts out?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:17, Thu 03 June 2021.

"I'll take the suit if you think the boat can handle it. I'll just play stationary pill box or something."



-

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 212):

The remembered when she arrived the airboat created quite a racket!

"Oh no, the airboat, she's loud! But fast. You said them flatboats had engines, but they ain't faster than my airboat. And I don't think they got no radios.

"As for your suit, Mister Trask, it's 18 feet long by 9 feet wide, 8 inches draw. Semi-rigid hull, ex-Police airboat. So I can take about four tons of cargo, that's including passengers. But we would not be able to maneuver at that load.

"And we got bigger boats. But much slower. We'll see how it works out."
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:38, Thu 03 June 2021.

Brother Edgar finished his breakfast his share of the breakfast just in time to follow the others out.  He seemed more than a bit content for the real meal, not to mention the actual rest.  That last day of it had really taken it out of him.  His brightly flickering glow was a good signal to the others that Edgar's connection to his strange, atomic source of power was renewed.  To Peter's question, he offered a soft shrug, "It would seem to be the plan, yes.  If it could be helped, I would prefer to see them captured.  They may have useful knowledge and I always try to give folk a chance to change their ways...  Change being a holy thing, after all."  His piece being said, the Doomsayer was ready to board the boat and do his part.

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 215):

"Ah shore do believe you are correct, Brother Edgar. Let's give 'em the chance. And blow 'em out of the water if they don't take it!" She began coordinating the town's defences via CB radio and field telephone.

Sheriff Re

The Posse headed outside to the police wharf where the Sheriff's ex-police airboat was tied off. It was a pretty large craft, and 18-footer flat boat powered by a massive ducted-fan propeller. Waiting for them was a Black woman in an East Baton Rouge Parish Sheriff's Office uniform. She was wearing a life vest over marked "Police" with a radio hand set clipped to it. Aside from a pump-action shotgun on the wood planks beside her, she wore a police 10mm Glock in a thigh-holster.

Deputy Emma Blakefield introduced herself. "All right, I'm piloting the jet boat. If we're goin', let's get a move on! I'll need ya'all to help stabilise the boat if that big ol' tin can is gettin' in, please."

Dawn had broken almost an hour earlier and the surrounding moss-draped forest teemed with life and bird-calls.

Peter gave a slow nod. "Very well. If they are like the last bunch, they may very well not give us a chance to give them a chance but yes, I agree."

He gathered up his belongings, put his armor and helmet on, checked his advanced combat rifle and carried it in hand. He settled himself in the air boat and waited to see what they would see.

Trask looked at the sheriff and then the boat and then he stepped off to climb a board. He really was not happy with this idea, but it was the only way. He followed the law makers direction as to where to sit so things did not tip over.


-

Brother Edgar, did his best to follow whatever instructions Deputy Blakefield ordered to keep the boat stable.  Once the armored Trask is aboard and the boat remained afloat, he too climbed aboard.  He is saying it quietly, but someone might catch bits of the Doomsayer's prayer as he got on the heavily laden airboat, "I act only to succor the Doomed...  And they shall know me by my deeds...   I act only to secure a better world for the Chosen..."  A reminder of purpose.  Useful when engaging in dangerous adventures...the which he often found himself swept up in.

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 220):

The posse helped steady the airboat as Trask settled in.

As they got ready to depart Reynard finished arming up the town militia and they began getting into position. The sentries and guards in place were already armed, so this last group was more the QRF under the Sheriff. The half-dozen armed townsfolk started another boat docked at the police wharf.

One of them, a young woman obviously marked by Atom, came to Brother Edgar. She hesitantly touched his robe. "Brother... people here call me Melia. There are a few of us here in town and more in the swamp. Mutants. On Sunday, if you're still around, would you come and say mass for us? Most of us, we're still Christian, but we feel that if God made us like this, then there's got to be a reason."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:58, Thu 28 Oct 2021.

Brother Edgar smiled kindly to the young woman, saying, "First, I assure you that there is a wonderful reason.  Chosen for a great purpose."  He said the words with absolute certainty and conviction.  That this young woman, a mutant, was Important.  He had a way of saying things that helped people believe.  The Doomsayer looked like he wanted to say more, but glanced a moment at the airboat and his companions aboard...  Then back to her, his smile turning a bit sad, "We can talk about it more when I return.  As for the service, I would be happy to.  If you and yours will help me learn how you do things here, I'll do my best."

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 222):

"Thank you! God bless you, Brother. I'll see you later..."

Unnecessarily, Peter looked at the mutant woman and simply said, "Brother Edgar rarely needs protecting, but we shall do our best to make sure he comes back in one piece."

He didn't hold the same faith or religion. Or really...any faith or religion. He barely had faith in people after his upbringing and his time in Deadwood. But he was trying. And even if he didn't believe, he surely wouldn't step on someone else's faith or beliefs if he could help it. Faith and hope were rarer in the world than safety, and more precious.

His thoughts turned to Jane, as they often did when the two were apart. He hoped she was well. That those who traveled with her were well and healed up and safe. He gripped the gun tighter.

Smoker jumped onto the airboat, checking it out curiously.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 225):

The airboat was relatively simple. The basic design hadn't really been changed in over 100 years. Mainly, it was a large Zodiac-style flatboat with a large ducted fan on the rear that pushed it and provided directional change. Unlike a regular Zodiac, an airboat did not have any propulsion under the water like a propeller or water jets. Instead, a large "pusher" rotor was mounted there, and this meant there were no underwater projections to catch on obstacles. What was new were smaller moveable fans near the bow that helped in manoeuvering and braking, because normally airboats were very difficult to slow or stop. This being a police boat and not a tour boat there were less seats (12), shielding along the sides to provide some protection and the control seat (which was raised in the rear) had bulletproof shielding.

Once everyone was loaded up, they cast off. Blakefield started the rear fan with a roar. It was clear this was not going to be a stealth operation! However, once they were out of the gate the engine opened up and they accelerated to 40 miles per hour, skimming easily over the water and reeds of the swamp. They slalomed around trees and islets, easily sliding back and forth. "I know the area like the back of my hand! Unless ya'all got a better idea I'm gonna swing out and come in from the west, cut them off from the river!"

Peter had a small frown on his face as the airboat started up. He had known, intellectually, that it would be loud, but it really was. However, once it opened up and started going fast on the water, a smile slid on to his face. He could get used to this - if he were going to live on the water all the time.

He stayed alert, looking around as they traveled, trying to watch out for anything strange or dangerous - and especially for their 'quarry'.

The airboat roared away through the main gate, leaving Crichton on the wharf with Luke.

"You said you wanted to see Mr. Tinsdale, the city engineer? Come this way. He's got a workshop and salvage yard."

He led the other man across the catwalk connecting the Sheriff's office to Shady Sadie's. From there another catwalk led to the market, now empty during the crisis. Then across to Tinsdale's scrapyard, a warehouse with more solar cells on the roof that provided much of the town's power. One last catwalk led to Tinsdale's workshop. "Ok, Mr. Tinsdale's up with the dawn so he's already awake."

Behind them, Crichton remained in town to start fabricating rifles.

They swerved back and forth between trees, skimming over mats of reeds that would choke the propeller of a normal boat. Startled birds exploded out from the underbrush to get out of their way.

Soon, the others in the airboat were approaching the part of the swamp where the suspected enemy scouts were located. "There they are!" yelled Dep. Blakefield.

Indeed, there was one of those crazy flatboats, coming into view 75 yards away.

There were six or seven occupants, all armed-looking. Having heard them coming they had started their outboard and were trying to run towards the river. They were making a good 10 knots, far slower than the 40 the police airboat was making. Four of the passengers were on their knees, aiming long pipe-rifles at them, one was steering and the other two were trying to keep low out of sight below the gunwales.

The posse in the police boat at least had side and front bulletproof shielding to protect them.

Marshall's Note: Quickness Rolls! Please post in the die rolls section.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:38, Fri 18 June 2021.

Trask has his rifle in his shoulder as they were travelling as best as he could. Now they had targets he was able to bring a bead onto the crew rather fast. If he was able Trask would target their out board motor, firing several bursts towards it, failing that he would take out the guy steering.



-

Brother Edgar opted to keep his head down behind the shielding and do his very best to stay out of the way for the moment.

Hold and/or Vamoose as needed.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 229):

The police airboat was going fast and the raider's flatboat was just poking along. To avoid overshooting the slower craft Deputy Blakefield began braking by reversing the bow thrust jets. Normally an airboat has difficulty stopping or slowing as there is no rudder or rotor in the water. This model was equipped with gimballed ducted fans on the bow to provide directional thrust and braking.

In a few seconds they would stopped alongside the flatboat.

Marshall's Note: this will occur at the end of the turn.

The four riflemen fired their pipe rifles, creating a dense cloud of gunsmoke with red sparks at the centre. One round penetrated the bullet shield in front of Trask but the round merely glanced off his leg armour. Another shot hits Peter in the left arm, and one gets Brother Edgar in the right arm.

As he saw the crude rifles come up, Brother Edgar ducked quickly down behind the armor screen...

Almost as if in things were moving in slow motion, Peter saw the rifles coming to bear, pointing towards him. He quickly ducked out of sight behind the protection offered by the airboat as the bullets began flying in, smacking against the airboat instead of him.

Smoker was sitting at the rear of the airboat near the pilot's position. He watched as the encounter swiftly degenerated into violence.

Bullets whined overhead (these being subsonic musket balls they did not have a crack). Peter, Smoker and Brother Edgar got down out of the way, in safety. Trask was hit in the leg by a musket ball but the Wolverine suit shrugged it off.

As they approached, Trask fired three short bursts at the outboard engine using the 5.56mm carbine. The crew member manning it dove for the bottom of the boat. He thought he might have hit it but nothing dramatic happened and the engine (now without a steerer) kept putting away.

Dept. Blakefield expertly brought the airboat alongside the skiff and then stopped. The wake splashed over the other boat, soaking the crew and making the reloading of their primitive flintlock pipe rifles much harder!

Marshall's Note: New initiative card draw!

Peter leveled the advanced combat rifle at the other boat and began firing bursts at the very close pirates. He was not super excited about being this close to them, but took advantage to try and inflict as much damage as possible before they fired back - or boarded the air boat! One burst, a second burst.

"Surrender! Throw down your weapons!" Of course, he probably should have yelled that BEFORE he started shooting...

Brother Edgar took a breath and popped up from behind the barricade as well.  His normal glow pulsed, energy rippling down his arm.  That arm straightened, his hand level and pointed at the pirates boat motor.  A bolt of green energy flashed through the air directed by the Doomsayer's faith and will...

In his lunge forward, Peter saw that there were two men hiding in the bottom of the flatboat. One was armed with a deadly double-barreled shotgun, the other a flintlock pistol. He changed his aim to the men, who were obviously waiting until they got close to pop up and fill them with lead! His burst caught both of them and they fell back, dropping their guns.

The air crackled with arcane energy as the green bolt shot from Brother Edgar into the boat motor. It exploded in a shower of green sparks!

Immediately, the men reloading their pipe rifles dropped them overboard, along with their bayonets, and put up their hands, as did the man now cowering by the tiller. "Don't shoot!" he yelled, "we done surrender!" The two wounded men lay in the boat, groaning.

The flatboat drifted into some weeds and stopped. It seemed like the fight was over!

With weapons being dropped and hands raised Trask held his fire as he yelled at the men in the boat "Get down on your bellies, now.. He then covered them with his rifle.


-

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 241):

All the men in the boat complied in one way or another.

Brother Edgar let out an accidentally held breath when the men surrendered so readily.  He glanced around for a rope or something and then called up to the Deputy, "If you could bring us alongside, I'll tie it off and go over for any other weapons.  And check any of the injuries."

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 243):

Deputy Blakeman kept the police airboat steady against the side of the flatboat and cut power to the big fan. It was suddenly a lot more quiet in the swamp!

There were coils of nylon ropes in the bottom of the boat, plus tie-down points on the passenger benches for prisoners.

Of the two injured, one man had a heavy wound to the leg, the other a serious wound to the lower guts.

Brother Edgar was gentle, but firm, "Stay calm, follow directions, and we will not harm you.  If I remember it right, you are now under arrest.  There used be rights to remaining silent and having an attorney, but...well...times change."  First, he handed any leftover weaponry back over to the others in the fanboat.  Once reasonably sure they were unarmed, he looked after the wounds.  Nothing fancy, but the Doomsayer would do what he could quickly to make sure no one bled out and they survived the return trip.

Peter backed up in the boat a bit as they pulled up alongside, wanting to be a bit farther from the 'baddies' in case they tried anything. He kept his rifle in hand and aimed at them as Brother Edgar began working.

He pondered the questions they might ask later, but kept silent and focused, occasionally looking around for anyone else around that wasn't in the two boats.

They got the prisoners transferred over and secured with little trouble.

The men were all dressed in ragged leather, alligator skins and various plastic plates and pads to form a kind of crude armour. Recovered weapons were similar to the ones they'd seen earlier and included a pipe rifle, double-barreled blunderbuss shotgun and a pistol. All were black powder weapons of homemade wasteland manufacture.

Of the wounded, neither had immediate life-threatening injuries. The leg wound was easily bandaged up and the stomach wound would heal given antibiotics or sulfa drugs.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 247):

Keeping an eye on the surrounding area, Blakefield got ready to start the fan up again and leave.

"Wait a sec, what's that?"

Now that the shooting had stopped and engine noise had subsided somewhat they could hear a drumming sound echoing through the swamp. It sounded like the riverboat from the previous day, and the sound was coming from the river.

Marshall's Note: Everyone can make a Cognition Check.

Trask turned to the prisoners "What is that ?" He though it was probably something to do with them and the rest of the bandit party.

Increase Trask rolled 6 using 4d8, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 6,3,2,3.  Cognition.


-

Peter helped secure the prisoners. Then he heard the question and perked up a bit. He cocked his head to the side for a moment. His expression became grim once more and he shook his head. "Sounds familiar. I'd say the mothership is on it's way."

He nudged one of the prisoners with his foot. "How long until they attack the town and what is the plan?"

Brother Edgar, quite busy with bandaging and general first aid, was not able to notice much else down in the bottom of the airboat with the prisoners.  As Peter asked his questions, he did offer a reassuring smile, "Anything you can share could only help how everything goes for you..."

One of the prisoners, a man with black hair and a scraggly beard, said, "we were supposed to attack at dawn. We scouted the walls out and were gonna lead them in. But those idiots got lost for a bit. Now they're coming. Fifteen boats with twenty men each, you don't have a Goddamn chance! Give up now, we'll go easy on you. Stay and fight and there won't be nothing left.

"Here they come now!"

Through the foliage of the swamp they could hear the puttering of several outboard motors coming from the direction of the river. The booming had stopped.

"Why do you yahoos want to attack anyway? This community is no threat to a bunch of river-boaters. Or do you just want to steal what others have created through hard work, rather than put in the effort to build up your own community?" asked Smoker, who was fed up with all the brawling.

In survival situations people should work together in order that all should prosper. Not prey on one another.

Peter called back to the deputy. "We need to get back to town now I think."

He hesitated, looking to his allies, "That is...unless we are planning on something stupid, like sneaking aboard that ship and doing something?"

"Well looky here you really are one for the cause and here we were thinking you were all slaves. Toss them over board and lets get back to the town...."

Trask ran a scan of the surrounding area.



-

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 253):

The man scoffed. "Hey, we're the Gators, buddy! Toughest gang on the river! We take what we want, when we want. Big Al owns everything on this river now. Whatever you got, it's ours now!

"Get used to it.

"We got two hundred men. Better give up now, you ain't got a chance."

If they did have that many attackers en route, it was probably not via the riverboat. It was simply too big to navigate the channels and waterways that connected Nouveau Baton Rouge to the Mississippi. But flatboats like this could carry a great deal of men through the swamp.

Brother Edgar shook his head slightly at Peter's question, "I have no plans for anything stupid."  Then a little louder for the Deputy, "If we can out run them, I vote for that."  All the big talk brought the doomsayer's attention back to the loudmouth "Gator," "Two hundred?  That's quite a few mouths to feed...  Al must be quite the leader to provide so much to so many.  How does he do it?"  He made no move to dump anyone over the side and otherwise remained conversationally friendly.

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 257):

At Peter's suggestion she started the large electric fan on the back of the boat and, using the bow thrusters, expertly swung it around and started booting it for the town.

The town Deputy Sheriff piloting the boat deadpanned, "we can shore beat 'em little boats back to town. But I'm afraid this here is town property. Can't let you have it if ya'all want to run further."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:52, Thu 22 July 2021.

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 257):

The Gator replied to Brother Edgar, "We Gators been with Big Al since Little Rock! Now that we got the River Queen, he owns the Mississippi!"

Noting the faintly glowing green skin he said, "he's an ugly bastard, like you, a mutie. 'Cept he's got teeth. And he likes to eat! Lord, shore don't he? He's gonna feed well when we take your town. Praise God he will! We all will!"

Peter began to go through and toss the "Gators" overboard unless someone objected. They didn't need prisoners nor potential enemies inside the town gates if they managed to escape somehow - but if someone was adamant against it he wouldn't.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 260):

The Gators were all tied down to cleats on the seats (placed for this purpose) so the Deputy asked what Peter was doing when he started to untie them. "Ah don't really care 'bout their lives, but we'll see what the Sheriff wants. For now, just sit back down until we get back, ok?" She didn't sound condemnatory, more concerned for his safety as they wove through the trees and waterways of the swamp.

Brother Edgar's friendly demeanor fades a bit at the idea that this Al is one of the Chosen.  In his haste, he hadn't considered any of the possible signs of the Glow amongst the prisoners...  But there were larger issues right now.  Like escape.  And preventing the throwing overboard of the prisoners...  Which the Deputy mostly took care of.

Smoker looked down at the bound Gators.

"If you come with us, you will be expected to live as normal productive members of the community, not as a pack of thugs and thieves. The need is to rebuild, not to steal from those who are meeting their responsibilities, do you understand?"

Trask looked across at his team mate "Ah.... look at them do you really think they are capable of that ? At some point they will just stab you and escape, they are zealots, madmen for the cause...."


-

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 263):

As they roared back to town, the Gators listened to Smoker's impassioned please for reason.

Marshall's Note: Make a Mein (1d6) check at -4. Please post results in the Die Rolls thread:

link to a message in this game

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 265):

Despite Smoker's best efforts at persuasion, talking with people and not machines was just not Smoker's forte. The mouthy one scoffed and laughed, although the others said nothing and looked away.

Soon, the were nearing the town gate. There were more guards there, although most of them were armed with crossbows.

Peter reached out with his foot and nudged the mouthy prisoner hard. "Shut it." Then he went back to keeping an eye out but staying seated in the dangerous ride.

He perked up once more as they began to approach the town. He glanced back at their 'driver' but the boat was pretty loud and he didn't feel like yelling so he kept quiet for the moment.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 267):

They tied up at the Sheriff's office wharf.

Blakefield asked for help transferring the prisoners to cells.

Sheriff Reynard was in the main office, coordinating the defence over the radio.

"Well, what's going on? Who are those guys? There going to be an attack?"

"Raise the alarm they are minutes away." Was all Trask said as he mad his way past the Sheriff and off the dock. He waited for the rest of the team so they can work as a unit.

"Boat must be the primary target, sink it burn it and the rest might lose hope. Especially if they are walking home."



-

Brother Edgar followed up Trask's explanation, with an indication of the prisoners in the boat, "These were the advance scouts.  Arrested."  Not that it mattered as much now...  what with the incoming raider attack...

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 269):

Reynard let Deputy Blakefield lock them up while she raised the alarm. She grabbed a shotgun and led Deptuty Comfort (armed with a lever-rifle) out onto the dock. She began casting off the airboat.

"I don't think they can bring that big ol' riverboat anywhere near here. They probably gonna attack with them flatboats you seen earlier."

"Ya'll's Posse come with me, we'll hold the main gate. Then ya'all go to wherever ya'all are needed most!"

Peter wondered idly about something. "The large riverboat has cannons on it. Will they be able to maneuver close enough to bring those to bear at long range on the town?" He was asking but also musing out loud thinking about what he knew about artillery.

Nevertheless, he followed along to the main gate.

Smoker checked his weapons then headed out towards the main gate, still rather grumpy at people who brawled rather than cooperated.

Trask followed the others as he checked his weapon. He flicked and eye and began scans of the surrounding area and read the feedback on the HUD. Once they were at the gate he looked for some cover which gave a good look over the ground to the front.


-

Sheriff Reynard and Depty. Comfort drop the posse off at the southern gate.

They were posted in a fighting position behind the rubble wall on the east side. The two Sheriff's Dept. personnel took the boat to the west side of the gate by the guard tower. The main gate was open water but had a large rusted chain snaking down into the water and secured on either side.

The river was a ways away. It didn't seem likely they could get the riverboat anywhere near the town. But they could get small craft in amongst the trees and waterways.

There was a rumble of outbboard motors. Through the trees and in the main channel that snaked through the swamp (eventually) to the river they began to see movement. There was an armada of small boats, over a dozen, heading for them! Two of the alcohol-powered motorboats were each towing several smaller flatboats behind them. At 50 yards range they dropped the tow ropes and the crews of the flatboats began rowing hard.

Suddenly, one of the motorboats sped up, aiming for the main gate! It was armoured, obviously intending to rush the gap...

Marshall's Note: Quickness checks please! Post in the die roll thread.

Smoker investigated the chain, wondering if a well-timed twitch could foul the motorboat's propellor.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 276):

Smoker noted it was thick and ran up to a deadweight suspended from the guard tower on the opposite side. The deadweight could be released and when it dropped the chain would quickly be brought up to the surface. There was also a winch that could raise and lower the chain at a more relaxed pace. Probably the control to drop the deadweight was in the guard tower.

Smoker looked up towards the guard tower to see if there was someone to ask. No doubt they had matters well in hand, but it was always worth checking.

Trask suddenly had multiple red triangles appear across his HUD. He assigned them all enemy designations and then concentrated on the boats as they seemed to be making a run at their position.

With his weapon at his shoulder Trask popped up from cover long enough to send a 20mm surprise at the armoured slug.


Increase Trask rolled 17 using 5d12, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 6,9,1,5,(12+5)17.  Attack.
Increase Trask rolled 21 using 4d12 with rolls of 7,6,6,2.  Damage.



-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:13, Thu 12 Aug 2021.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 278):

It looked like there were a couple of armed guards already up there in the tower.

Marshall's Note: I'll hold off on further resolving actions until Brother Edgar and/or Crichton has had a chance to post.

Brother Edgar had rushed up to the wall with the others to observe the oncoming flotilla.  He grit his teeth and took a long, deep breath.  Centering.  The town was good folk.  These pirates had not shown themselves to be anything but raider scum.  It was his job to protect the Bright Future by fighting such...  He doubted they were going to listen to reason, based on the prisoners....

The Doomsayer stood and took what cover the rubble wall provided as he called up the fearsome power of the Glow, "In the fury of the Atom....  In the Glow of the Bomb...."  The green energy pulsed and swirled as he built it up between his hands.

He left the armored charger to the others.  Brother Edgar would set his aim on the clustered rowboats.

The glow between his hands burned more and more intensely as he prepared to loose the loving doom of the Glow on the unsuspecting pirates, "A New Age Arose!"

Over on Tindsdale's workshop/scrapyard, Crichton worked his magic (literal and metaphorical).

"Whatever you make I can ferry over to the militia guarding the wall!"

 Chricton worked for what seemed like hours to him, but he was in the metaphorical zone as well as the meta physical zone. During the time the Posse was gone he was able to make 15 of his stripped down rifles to help with the defense of the town. He looks up at the sound of the shouting. As he walks to the wall he is finishing a couple of them. They literally look like well a pipe rifle. "Sorry they aren't prettier. Figured we would need them sooner rather than later. So I built for speed and punch over looks. Still has nothing on mine, but it should do."

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 283):

"Do you want a lift out to the front gate where your posse is, then I'll drop these off at the other guard stations?"

 Absent-mindedly he says "How many guard stations are there? And to make more ammo just add metal to the hopper. Will only hold 6 Shots, but a clip of this is gonna hurt bad. Yeah I would like a ride if possible get us there fairly quick I'd think."

He is thinking logistics at this point. The more spread out the less it will help in theory, but it wasn't his call to make.

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 285):

"There are a half-dozen guard towers and strong points!" Tinsdale yelled as he cast off.

They roared towards the main gate where the Posse was helping fend off a mass attack!

Peter brought the advanced combat rifle up to his shoulder. He lined it up a bit and aimed out towards the boats coming in. They had slowed, at least now, so that was something. He closed his one eye to better sight, then pulled the trigger for the secondary mechanism, launching something other than a bullet out over the water - which then exploded.

Action 1: Sleeve card.
Action 2: Fire one of the airburst rounds from the ACR.

The armoured motor-powered boat up front darted ahead, heading for the gap in the wall. Trask's round struck it near the bow and then exited out the rear. There was no noticeable effect.

A green ball of plasma-like energy shot from between Brother Edgar's hands and flew over the water. Suddenly, there was a green flash in the middle of the oncoming fleet of flat-boats, followed by a thunderclap  as a miniature mushroom cloud, glowing green, erupted from the water. It shot into the sky with a roar! Some of the boats were practically disintegrated, others were capsized in the shockwave that traveled through the air and the water. Armoured attackers were thrown into the water, struggling in vain to remain afloat.

Peter aimed at the other motor-launch, which did not have an armoured cover, and triggered the aiming laser. This was a perfect target for the airburst as the passengers were low and protected by the gunwales but had no overhead protection. Instantly, the ACR's laser fed the range into the weapon's onboard computer and from there the round was programmed to detonate right over the target. He fired and the round exploded above the launch. (Marshall's note: make a damage roll.) The airburst did not detonate quite above the rear motorboat and did not knock it out nor its crew.

The first motorboat (which was armoured) roared at the gap in the wall. They could hear bloodthirsty cheering coming from inside. The armed police on the other side held their fire as their shotguns wouldn't penetrate the armoured cover. Suddenly, there was a "Clunk! Clankclankclankclank...!" from other watchtower on the far side of the gap. The deadweight was released, dropping the weight downwards, pulling on its chain. There was a splash as this immediately wound a winch that lifted the larger chain that was stretched across the gap in the wall, presumably usually kept at a safe depth to allow traffic over top. The rusty heavy-duty "gate" chain was pulled out of the water just in time for the oncoming boat to strike it.

Striking the heavy chain at full speed, the lead boat's wooden bow was completely staved-in. It quickly took water through that massive hole and began sinking, bow first. The stern was lifted high, outboard prop spinning free in the air as it quickly sank beneath the water. Screams came from inside but no one emerged. The holes Trask had punched through it from end to end helped water enter and no air pocket could form.

Meanwhile, the boat with Crichton grounded on the wall behind them, allowing him to hop out.

Marshall's Note: New turn, new Quickness rolls needed!
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:10, Fri 27 Aug 2021.

Trask held his fire as red triangles began to fade on his HUD, it gave him time to reload his 20mm launcher as he looked for anyone making it to land from the flotilla of enemies.


-

Brother Edgar's eyes closed for a moment against the glare of the nuclear devastation he had wrought.  As the thunder rolled past, he looked back across the approaching attackers.  He hoped that was enough for them to reconsider...

The front motorboat was good and sunk. The water frothed with bubbles but no one surfaced.

The second motor skiff grounded on the side of the gate with the tower. The Five Gators inside piled out pipe rifles and blunderbusses in hand, heading for the winch and tower. Probably intending on raising the chain to allow the rest of the strike force to enter the town perimeter.

Over half the strike force of ten rowed skiffs was now underwater or capsized. A few survivors flailed about and clung to debris or overturned flatboats. The remaining four boats were actually able to get moving again, pulling for the main gate.

Marshall's Note: Everyone acts before the Gators. Brother Edgar pulled a Black Joker and therefore cannot take any action this turn and discards any sleeve cards.

Peter piped up, the tone of his voice rising only slightly - he was not prone to panic and he generally tried to keep his emotions in check. "We need to stop those bandits from opening the gate."

While he speaking he was already pulling the barrel to the side and aiming at the men he just had spoken about, to do what he could to stop them as well. He then opened up on them with a pair of bursts.

Trask followed the bandits in as they made a run for the gate and the mechanism to lower it. He fires on the lead runner and then fires off a few small bursts as he walks his fire back.


Increase Trask rolled 6 using 4d8, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 6,1,5,5.  Quickness.

Increase Trask rolled 6 using 5d12, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 4,6,1,3,4.  Shootin.


-

In a burst of automatic weapons fire, Trask and Peter mowed down the Gators going for the crank of the winch to lower the gate chain. Two others raised long-barreled pipe rifles to shoot back but Smoker cut them down with single shots from his FN. Bodies flopped down onto the rubble embankments and lay still or rolled back into the water.

Out on the water four of the six surviving rowboats seemed to be forming up. But still there was confusion and hesitation. The rowers slowed and then stopped as they saw one motorboat had disappeared and the other had it's crew wiped out within seconds of landing. Around them men thrashed in the water, come trying to climb into the still-floating craft while others clung to the overturned hulls of the flatboats that were capsized by the green mushroom cloud that was slowly dissipating overhead.

Marshall's Note: new turn, Brother Edgar can act again. No need to roll for initiative as there are no active targets in your vicinity.

Trask turned to the row boats that has clustered together and began taking single aimed shots at the people in them. He took his time while hoping a couple of hits might persuade them to bugger off.


-

Peter let out a small breath and then looked at Trask and gave a nod. "Good work. That stopped them." At least for the moment. And for that part of the attack anyway.

He raised his voice and shouted out towards the enemies, "FLEE! GO AND NEVER RETURN! GO OR DIE!"

He too began to fire single shots instead at the people in the boats, looking to stop them from coming closer again. Or break their morale. Whichever came first.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:57, Thu 30 Sept 2021.

Brother Edgar watched the scattered forces attempting to sort themselves into a decision.  He hoped, inwardly, that they would choose to give up.  But, he also worried that these raiders would try to pull themselves back together for another big push.

So, the Doomsayer watched to see if they would gather up again for another run.  Should they try it, he would be ready to loose the Power of the Atom again.

One time should be enough.  Let it be enough.

A couple more pot shots was enough to convince the raiders to call it a day. The few surviving boats began rowing away, leaving behind a number of Gators clinging to a few capsized boats.

Behind them the posse could hear a number of shots

Across the gate channel, Sheriff Reynard and Deputy Comfort were left with no real targets. The attackers who had landed to clear the chain were all down and bleeding out. The retreating boats were too far away to effectively engage with their shotguns. They did manage to find one living Gator who was severely injured. They left him cuffed as they tried to determine if there were any more serious breaches or situations.

Over the radio Tech Sergeant Crichton reported that there was another landing by a force of about twenty Gators. So taken off and gathered a scratch force of a dozen town militia. He armed them up with the new Junker-built rifles he'd just built and then repulsed the raiders before they could get more of a foothold on the wall. Five more Gators lay dead. The rest retreated.

Trask stood once it was obvious the attackers were thinking better of trying again. He changed out his magazine for a fresh one as he watched them retreat. "Looks like they are killin them's they can't take with them or was that the other wall ?" Trask then went over to the injured "gator"

"Doesn't look like you are getting out of this or surviving much longer. I guess all those promised riches came to nothing ?"



-

Peter stayed vigilant for a few moments longer, making certain they were well and truly routed. Then he gave a nod and slumped back a bit, letting out a sigh of relief and seeming to deflate a bit.

"Cannot be certain they will not try again, but for now...they are driven away. That is good." His lips twitched. "A little expensive, but good."

Then he heard Crichton radio and he responded back to ask if they needed help.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Wed 06 Oct 2021.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 300):

Crichton's answer was they were mopping up. A dozen escaped, six were killed, two wounded taken prisoner.

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 299):

The surviving Gator just hung his head. "No... guess not. " He sighed.

In front of them the remaining boats retreated, leaving some survivors clinging to overturned hulls. Smoker checked the magazine on his FN, determined he had just over a half a magazine left, reinserted it. He then scavenged the spent brass from his and the other weapons.

Sheriff Reynard and Deputy Comfort lowered the block-chain and took the swamp boat out with a recovery party. "We're gonna go out an' grab the bodies and the survivors. If we let 'em sit there they gonna attract an undesirable element to the neighborhood. Like them monster gators. Or something worse! Y'all give us some long-range cover and keep watch over the gate, now." Their shotguns would suffice for close targets, especially in the water. But the posse could put out some more accurate longer-range rifle firepower.

Peter gave a silent nod to the Sheriff and got into a sort of sitting position with his back against the wall where he could watch them and the water, but where his old back wouldn't be strained too much. He kept the rifle lowered, across his knee, but ready in case trouble should rear its ugly head.

Brother Edgar let out a relieved breath that the pirates seemed to be leaving.  As Trask moved out from the wall, he followed to take it all in.  He was fair certain that none of the locals were wounded or hurt, but he kept an eye out for any such.  If no defenders needed tending, he'd move on to the pirates captured so far.  He felt a need to tend to something after all the violence...

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 302):

"So you want to tell us where the boat is at the moment ?" Trask gave a nod to the Sheriff he would cover them if he was able.


-

"Out near the river. Far in as we could get it. Don't have no motor. So we row it. Can only get so far in to the swamp." This would tally with what they'd seen of the riverboat. It seemed to be propelled by oars to the beat of a drum. The drumming had stopped, indicating the boat was stopped as well.

Over the radio from Crichton they heard there were some casualties from the attack that went in at the rear gate, as they landed and could use their pipe rifles.

Also over the radio the posse heard they'd all been summoned to Tindale's (the town engineer) workshop for a council-of-war.

Peter watched, providing cover as long as was needed. He thought about the riverboat out there. And tried to figure out a way it could be dealt with. It wouldn't be easy. Or quick. It would be difficult and messy most likely. If it could be done.

He stood after the call came in. He frowned for a moment, let out a small sigh, and then began to head to the council.

Hearing about the casualties at the other site, Brother Edgar started to head that way...until he heard the call to the council. He sighed, but headed for Trask to make sure he got the message as well, "We are requested.  To council."  Any of the others nearby, Brother Edgar makes sure they know as well.  If he was forced to a meeting, he'd make sure no one wriggled out.  Yes, it was petty.

"Best come along then," said Smoker, getting up.

"Will they have refreshments, do you think?"

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 306):

"Whose in charge, how many foot soldiers are left ?" Trask tried to sound as "friendly" or at least less aggressive as he question the seriously wounded bandit.


-

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 310):

The dejected-looking Gator shrugged. "I dunno. We had about a hunnert. Ya'all killed, what, fifty? So maybe fifty left. Plus Big Bob. Ya'all don't want to mess with him, I tell you what, sir." Further talk was impossible over the airboat's engine once it started up.

The town Sheriff's airboat dropped the prisoner off at the town jail for processing. Then shuttled them over to Tinsdale's workshop for the emergency town council meeting. Crichton radioed he was over at the scrapyard (the top deck of a nearby flooded parkade) and would join them soon.

After dropping off their prisoner, the Posse was let off at Tinsdale's workshop.

Inside was a council of war, of sorts. The Mayor was away on some kind of extended trip to New Orleans. He'd gone down there to bring back a couple of townsfolk who'd traveled there earlier to trade and for some reason decided to stay. They'd sent back a message saying they were ok and inviting everyone to come down to "N'Aawlins", where it was Mardi Gras. The trouble was, Mardi Gras had already come and gone. The Mayor had gone down to investigate, leaving Sadie MacGregor the saloonkeeper in charge as Deputy Mayor. And now the Mayor had sent a message saying he wasn't coming back either because of Mardi Gras.

To add to this a couple scavvs had also gone missing (not returned) the day before, Henry Johnson and Bill Clark. They were supposed to be looking in and around downtown but it now seemed obvious what had happened to them.

Sheriff Reynard chaired the meeting in Tinsdale's shop. In attendance was Mr. Tinsdale, city engineer, town "Doctor" Janice Wells, and acting Mayor Sadie MacGregor, saloon proprietor (and Deputy Mayor).
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:24, Wed 27 Oct 2021.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 312):

Sheriff Reynard chaired the meeting. In attendance was Mr. Tinsdale, city engineer, town "Doctor" Janice Wells, and acting Mayor Sadie MacGregor, saloon proprietor and Deputy Mayor.

The Sheriff began, "Now, the Gators, as they call themselves, got somewhere between 50-110 of them. Those Junker rifles ya'll's friend whipped up will be a mighty big help. But I figure we's gonna need to take the fight to them to win. Otherwise we gonna go down next attack or the one after.

"Mr. Tinsdale?"

In reply to Sheriff Reynard (msg # 313):

"Thank you, Sheriff.

"As mentioned we need to take the fight to them.

"From what we've seen it seems obvious they have obtained or made a large supply of black powder, both finer grained powder for use as a primer and coarser grains for use as a powder. This is likely stored on their main vessel, which they call the Mississippi Queen.

"A frontal attack might not succeed but if they are out on the river we may be left with no other choice. But if we can lure them back into the ruins of the city there are locations we can use to our advantage. I have several sticks of construction dynamite and some C4 I've been hanging on to. I can rig a remote detonator to make a satchel charge. If we can get the Queen close to a vantage point where the satchel charge can be dropped down onto the Queen the resulting explosion will likely destroy the craft considering how structurally compromised it appears. Failing that, or in addition, firebombs may also be effective as I doubt the fire suppression system is still active.

"If we lure the Queen into position, would you be willing to undertaking the delivery of the explosive?"

Brother Edgar listened patiently to the exchanges...and the laying out of the plan.  The flickering green of his ever-present glow lighting his face beneath the hood of his robe.  At the request, and the pause, he stood forward, "If that is what the council decides, I would be willing to help see this charge delivered.  But, I would also like to offer....alternatives...  As you have seen, the Glow has granted me a measure of the true Power of the Atom.  It can, perhaps, be delivered more easily without the need to lure the ship into position.  I would be willing to try.  Should I fail, you'll still have this plan to fall back on."  Edgar paused, and lifted a hand palm out to accent his point, "But...  I would also like to suggest attempting to talk to this... Big Bob or whatever he may call himself...  They lost quite a bit of their force in the attack, while gaining nothing.  After such a defeat, he may reconsider attacking.  If he doesn't, perhaps his men would be willing to consider alternatives...  I would be surprised if, after this failure, his men weren't already thinking about scattering."