As Scraps skipped through the dangers of the room, he bounded over to wait for Goodwill by yonder door.
- rolled 10 using 2d6+3 with rolls of 2,5.  More Agility ... as requested .

Goodwill takes another blast from the room's defenses, but only a glancing hit.

(Goodwill takes 1 stress.)

The man in the black suit, however, watching carefully where Scraps stepped, managed (like Scraps), to avoid all damage.

The foursome managed to make it to the far door without further damage.

"Okay," said the man in the black suit, "last obstacle, straight ahead-- there's a large room with a large robot in it. But that's just fighting-- I think between Goodwill and Scorch Scale, you should be able to handle it fine. I can tell you right now, there a panel on its back you should attack, whenever possible, at least. It shouldn't attack me nor the pup as long as we don't attack it, either." He pauses. "Do I need to hold the pup? Will he let me? Or can you make him understand to stay out of the way? Or should I not worry...?"

"He might let you hold him, but that's kind of up to him. He's still a puppy, so he does what he wants a lot of the time. But if I tell him to stay back, he'll generally listen to me." To emphasize this statement, he pointed to Scraps and said sternly, "Stay."

Scraps would probably stay put... but if Goodwill caught a face full of robot, all bets were off.

"Good boy."

Instinctively Scraps sat.  He was a well-trained pup, after all.
He was, by definition, 'a good boy'.

He did cock his head to one side though, not sure why Gil was telling him to stay.
And those big puppy-dog eyes held a look of confusion ... and disappointment.

Scraps didn't like not being with Gil ... he didn't like being left behind.

"Okay then..." said the man in the black suit, "let's go..."

Goodwill, Scorch Scale, the man in the black suit entered the next room, followed by Scraps. (Surely it would be all right for him to stay in sight of his master? No one was stopping him...)

In the middle of the room was, indeed, a large robot, two stories high, but at the same time more thick and squat of build and the earlier models. It looked even more armored, too...

But it also looked powered-down. "This feels like a trap," the man in the black suit whispered. "Should you hurry and try to rip open the panel back behind it? Or should we not look a gift horse in the mouth, and just try to tiptoe past it...?"

"I'm all for doing this the fast-and-sneaky way, if it'll let me," Goodwill said. "But since when does anything go according to plan around here...?"

Scraps, having been told to 'sit', was doing so.
Scraps was a good boy.

Until Gil told him otherwise (or possibly until Scraps felt Gil was in danger), he would do as he'd been told.
Scraps sat a the doorway from the last room.

(Okay:

Scraps: Confident check please...)

- rolled 5 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 2,2.  Confident Check.

(Scraps gets 1 new xp, and takes -1 forward.)

Lizard-Man and Black-Clothes-Man started sneaking around the side of the big robot. Master was quietly flying right near them. They all gestured to Scraps to come, quietly, too, so he did.

But something-- something he saw? Heard? Smelled?-- distracted Scraps. It distracted him SO BAD.

He barked! Loud!

The big robot lit up, and turned right toward them...

(Scraps, what exactly was it that made you forget yourself and bark? If you want (and if you can figure out how), it could possibly be something that could maybe somehow be turned to the group's advantage in the next round...)

Scraps was a clever dog.   And being from a long line of fire pups, he knew that acrid smell in his bones.
Well, in his nose.   Lets say, for argument sake, he knew that smell in his nose bones.

It was the faint, but undeniable, smell of fire.
Those first whiffs of something beginning to burn ... something about to combust.
Something manmade, not natural.  Electronics.

Something electronic, deep inside the metal man, was going wrong ... and Scraps could tell that it was about to do that thing that Gil's toaster had done a few weeks ago; before the smoke had started wafting from it, and the flames came from within.

The robot's metal guts were, Scraps could tell with his very clever nose, starting to spark ... and not in a good way.

Scraps barked: he had to tell Gil that something was wrong.  That fire was on its way.


Gil had long been a part of Scraps' training, and came from a long line of firefolk himself.
Scraps had no doubt that his friend would understand.

(Nice.

Goodwill, you may try to figure out exactly why Scraps barked, if you want (INSIGHTFUL).

Or you can do something else-- run for the far door (AGILE), fight the robot (FORCEFUL), try to get to the robot's back panel (AGILE), something else...?)

Scraps was barking. Why...? Was there something else going on that Gil had missed?

Goodwill rolled 9 using 2d6+1 ((3,5)).

In a split-second, Goodwill examined the situation, and his gaze caught on a ventilation panel on the big robot. It was very thick titanium, but-- there was a flame back there? Yes, the thing was just barely starting to emit wisps of smoke, and since this was presumably not a wood-burning robot... it meant that the robot must be starting to malfunction, badly. Why? Who knows? But it meant two things:

1. Maybe the robot would stop working soon.

2. Maybe the robot was going to explode soon.

But WHICH it meant-- or would it be BOTH? --Goodwill didn't know.

The important thing was-- what was he going to do about it?

While he was evaluating and thinking, the robot had started closing in, its big arms and hands moving toward either side of Goodwill and his colleagues, to keep them from going back or forward (or was it just gonna try to squish 'em?)...

"Fire in the hole!" Goodwill shouted, pivoting towards Scorch Scale. If the robot was about to do something involving large quantities of fire, he was the man for the job. Goodwill linked hands with the dragon-man, and turned and hurled him towards the robot.

Goodwill rolled 8* using 2d6+2 ((3,3)).

As soon as Scorch Scale was in the air, Goodwill grabbed the man in the suit and dragged him down to the ground, doing his best to cover Scraps in the bargain.

---

*= Thanks for that +2!

AT THAT MOMENT, just as Scorch Scale left Goodwill's hand, Goodwill sensed... something was... wrong.

Something in the feel of Scorch Scale's body language...?

(11:36, Today: The Grandmaster, on behalf of Scorch Scale, rolled 5 using 2d6 ((1,4)). Confident roll, to resist being taken over by Drocan: FAIL)

"AH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH! FREE! FREE! THE TIME OF DROCAN ON THE EARTH IS RETURNING! FEAR, MORTALS! FEAR THE RISE OF DROCAN! YOUR MACHINES OF WAR ARE AS NOTHING TO ME...!"

(Forceful: 11:44, Today: Drocan rolled 9 using 2d6+2 ((6,1)).)

Drocan cuts loose with a blast of flame that engulfs most of the room.

(11:44, Today: Drocan rolled 9 using 2d6+2 ((6,1)).

Goodwill takes 1 new stress.

Scraps is not burnt by the flames, but he takes 1 stress because wow, this is scary.)

The robot takes most of the attack... and explodes.

(Forceful: 11:48, Today: Drocan rolled 12 using 2d6+2 ((5,5)).)

Drocan, in Scorch Scale's body, manages to create a firewall that protects him from the explosion.

(Goodwill takes 1 new stress.

Scraps takes no damage, but takes 1 new stress, because that was actually MORE scary! Worse than the Fourth of July!)

Drocan looks around. "AND NOW TO ESCAPE FROM THIS PRISON...!" He rushes to the door by which the group entered the room... But pauses at the doorway. "No... no... it IS a prison... the whole point is that escape is not possible yet, even for Drocan, if such a gaol can hold Aegrim, the black dragon of Wyre... And I feel the boy returning... Verily, a double prison... Curses upon... upon..."

Scorch Scale reaches out and holds onto the doorframe. "...Hey guys..." he says weakly. "So, uh, sorry about that..."

Goodwill stood up. The back of his shirt had been burned away, so he pulled away the front half and tossed it aside. Scraps looked unhurt, but scared. He couldn't tell if the guy in the suit was hurt or not.

"Don't worry about it," Goodwill said in reply to Scorch Scale. Being semi-possessed by a dragon-spirit had to be tough on a guy. Goodwill shrugged that off like he shrugged off the flames, and knelt to see if the guy in the suit was okay or not. "You hurt?"

The man in the black suit got his clothes slightly singed, but otherwise he's unhurt. Rattled, but unhurt.

"I'll be... all right..." he said. "The robot definitely shouldn't have attacked me... trying to reprogram it to do so must've caused a meltdown... although breathing fire at it probably didn't hurt."

He dusted himself off. "...Control room up ahead... Shall we continue...?"

In the sudden explosion of flames, Scraps had scampered to Goodwill and buried himself as deeply as he could into the heroes arms, shivering with adrenaline and fear.
Scraps whimpered.

"It's okay, boy. It's okay." Gil did his best to soothe the terrified puppy, stroking his fur and speaking in a calming voice. "Were almost done here."

If the control room was up ahead, then maybe Cogstein, or whatever he called himself, was finally within reach.

"Let's go."

The next door was passed through easily... the man in black ignored a couple of doors and intersections, continuing to move in a straight line. He came to a very thick, reinforced door, and tapped on a keypad next to it.

It buzzed. "You are kidding me," he said. "Even this?" He glanced at Goodwill. "I was assured that this door, and the walls, were flame-proof enough even to handle that nameless dragon fellow we've got downstairs," he said, "but my engineers were less sure about Spite. We were mostly hoping that the more passive things like the hypnoscreen could sideline 'er if it had to. Son, you wanna give a shot at pulling this door out of the doorframe? I've had enough of this, if we can just get in through this way..."

(Forceful)
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:28, Mon 11 Nov 2019.

"No problem," Goodwill said. He cracked his knuckles and then punched a hole in the wall next to the door. He dug through the more common building materials until his fingers found the steel of the doorframe. He felt around until he found a suitable grip.

Putting one foot up against the wall, ge gripped the doorframe with both hands and pulled.

Goodwill rolled 13 using 2d6+2 ((6,5)).

The man in black shook his head and the metal creaked, groaned, and finally shrieked. "Gonna have to figure more things out for if anyone ever catches Spite... but for now, I'm happy to have this door open..."

He stepped past the twisted metal, and entered the room. Several anxious guards pointed guns at him... and then quickly holstered their guns, and saluted. "Sir!" the nearest shouted. "We've been trying to deactivate each security subsystem as you came to it, but with no results, sir..."

"I know, I know... but-- for security reasons-- I know a few things you boys don't." The man in black stepped over to the nearest keyboard, and started typing in long strings of numbers and letters.

All the screens went black... except for the white words RESTARTING IN SAFE MODE on each of them.

"The system's restarting," he told the heroes. "But look at this dial over here-- see how it's all the way to the left? Not in the red at all? That's good-- for us. Safe Mode means the power's still going to the cells... the prisoners are as secure as they were before. But restarting the system should mean that the traps are all deactivated for the rest of us, and that the robots will do what we tell them, and that you people can leave. Maybe someday we'll get you back up here to try this again, but for now, we'll have to have our own scientists work on debugging everything-- maybe get the boys from MIT back down here-- and The Cogster won't be allowed out of 'is cell again for a long, long time..."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think I'm stronger than Spite." Goodwill wasn't entirely sure about that, but when they clashed he'd turned a lot of the negative sentiment against her from hatred to pity. That had to have cut into her power base.

But it is pretty easy to get people to hate, these days, he thought.

"Still, better safe than sorry."

Scraps leapt up into Gil's arms, with a playful bark, and licked his face.