"Not such a big man without your monkey suit, are you?" Harry growls a the man, stepping in front of him. "I'd almost feel sorry for you, if you and your friends weren't going around terrorizing settlements and kidnapping people." He gunned his chainsaw arm again, this time leaving it running. "Maybe I should take this here saw, open that can up, and chop out every single wire and system, turn it into basically a hollow statue. Or maybe you can start answering some questions. Which is it gonna be?"

((OOC: Trying out some Intimidation.

11:16, Today: Rusty Harry rolled 10,5 using d8+4,d6+4, rerolling max with rolls of 6,1.  Intimidation.))

Kelly was content he wasn't going near that armor.  "Fletcher, I don't mean to tell you what to do, but you're the only one here besides Harry who I trust to gather those pieces up without being electrocuted or something."

"And as for you-"  She told their once tormentor.  "I told you to get up!"

Kelly grabbed his arm and bent it behind him in a classic hammerlock, using it to force him to his feet.  He might well require some pulling from Kelly to accomplish that feat, but she was happy to oblige.

Harry was terrifying when he towered over you, but it was, paradoxically, even worse when you were standing up and you realized how fully he could just murder you if not for... other considerations.

"Well?  Answer him!"

Since they apparently weren't leaving just yet, Fletcher decided to follow Kelly's suggestion and went to police up the bits that had broken off the Iron Man when he swan dived into the road from the back of the pickup.

Kelly would have to be careful not break the weakened man's arms as she wrenched him around.  Unless she didn't particularly care about being careful.  Which is understandable really.  Either way, he wimpered and wailed at the manhandling...womanhandling?...handling.

Harry's threats seemed to crack through the man's panic.  His eyes went wide behind his mask of matted hair, "NO!  No no..  Please...  Don't...  Its....all....I...have...  safe...  W-what do you want to...know?  Yes...  Tell you anything!  Whatever you want!  Please..."  His eyes shifted towards the armor again...then back to his interrogators...then back to the armor again...  Like he was trying to pay attention, but even with the threats his attention kept going back to his armor.  It seems very...precious...to him.

"Anything!  What do you want to know....hmm?  Yes?  What??"

Delilah came around from the other side of the Dog where she'd been forced off by the armor landing.   Her gun was in her hand.  There was an angry fire in her eyes, "How's about you tell them how you threw people in that machine?  How you fed 'em to it?  Why don't you tell them exactly what you are before I gun you down...."  A very angry fire.  Thanks to McKellar's syker backlash, she had seen what these raiders did to people.  And apparently, she had seen some very specific things about the Iron Man...

She thumbed the hammer back.

---

Prudence too was nearby, clicking the pan closed on her flintlock pistol.  Now carefully checking the flint and very quietly singing her song, "Don't lie down upon your bed... when the moon drifts in the sky..."  She did not seem particularly angry.  Especially not with all the singing.  There was something....determined about her readying of the old school pistol.

Harry spared a glance at Delilah. He didn't actually have any illusions that The Man In The Iron Suit was actually going to walk out of this encounter - anyone who'd be maintaining a suit of power armor like that among the weirdos was likely to be near the top of their totem pole, and likely to be intimately involved with feeding people to this machine they'd heard about - but people who thought they'd live were in general more cooperative than those who knew for a fact they weren't when it came to questioning.

"Del," he said quietly, stepping back to talk to her directly. "We'll get to that, I reckon. But this here asshole needs to answer to the Templar. They snatched up one of her comrades. She's the one who gets to make the decision about what counts as justice with the likes of him and his crew. Maybe she does decide you get to turn his head into a canoe. Maybe we just drag him to McKellar and the the Lockesburg folk and let them handle him. Either way, we need to know things, and you are not helping right now. Back down, please."

The man gasped and gagged at Delilah's accusations.  His already wild wide eyes going a bit wilder, "NONONOnonoononono... NO...  NO....  You don't know...  Know...  YOU DON'T...  necessary...  needful..."  His voice got quieter and quieter muttering and muttering.  His eyes shifted again, hungrily towards the armor, but he was still held in the Templar's iron grip, "please...  please....  what do you want to know?  what?  where they are?  I can tell you... show you... kill them all...  just let me go...  please...."

Kelly seethed, she was furious and cocked her hand to strike him, which was no mean threat from Kelly (though it certainly wasn't a power saw... but she stopped and took in a deep breath.

"Pay not evil for evil. Take no vengeance.  Place your wrath aside. 'Vengeance is mine' sayeth the Lord."

She took a second and became composed again, but still angry.

"What did you do to Al Dickson!?"

The man flinches instinctively at the balled and readied fist, shutting his eyes and turning away from the inevitable hammer blow.  A sad whine whistles out....then fades off as the blow does not land. The forceful question brings him back around and his eyes open in piteous question.  His mouth mumbles and stumbles as he considers his answer....

"Who?"

Its obvious that the name means almost nothing to the sad wreck.  Though he likely wishes that it did.  That lack of acknowledgment or recognition likely would sting worse than any stories of brave last stands and death...
This message was last edited by the player at 00:16, Sun 02 Aug 2020.

With a loud scream, Kelly grabs the man and executes a well practiced judo throw.  It won't actually hurt him that much (or it wouldn't if he were in good shape), but it will make an impression.  She stood over him, furious.

"You didn't even know his name!?"

Delilah stared up...and up...at Harry as he gave his suggestion.  He could see in her eyes that she was in no mood to abide by such, "So she gets dibs cuz one of her folk got himself killed?  This asshole has wiped out whole damn towns.  Who died and made her Queen of Justice for all those folk?" Her free hand points out her badge, "I don't wear this for fun.  I made promises.  I am bound."

She leans around Harry as the old man gets thrown to the ground and she grins a wolfish grin, "Looks like question time is over.  Can we do this and head off after the rest of his freakshow?"

---

Prudence quietly cocked the hammer back on her pistol and held it vertical and level with her shoulder.  Like someone about to engage in a formal pistol duel.  Her eye followed the man's flip to the pavement and stayed steadily on him.  She was still quietly singing, not loud enough to intrude or bother.  Just an eerie background sound, "Though the world is fast asleep...  Though your pillow soft and deep..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:09, Sun 02 Aug 2020.

While the former iron man was interrogated, Fletcher finished collecting all the larger bits that had broken off the suit and headed in the direction of the Dog to stow them away as well as lash down the armor for transport.

In reply to Delilah Wolf (msg # 361):



"The King of Kings." Harry replies. "You want to argue about it, you can take it up with Him." He puts special emphasis on the Important Capital Letter of that statement.



"Yup. Ain't disputin' that." Harry says. "But I reckon she outranks you. 'Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.' Are you worried he won't get what's comin' to him? Or are you just concerned that it might not be by your hand? One of those is justice. The other is just bloodthirst."



"I ain't heard her ask for any help." Harry says evenly. "We've asked him a grand total of one question. Simmer down."

06:24, Today: Kelly MacLeod rolled 2 using 1d8, rerolling max with rolls of 2.  Possible damage.

Kelly ignored the interplay and banter for the moment, but she definitely was not done.  She considered whether integrating Delilah's enthusiasm might be an effective tactic.

But she needed this first.  It was possible, Kelly realized, this fellow had nothing to do directly with Al Dickson's fate.  He was part of a gang after all, but she wanted as much answer as she could get.  And then she wanted more.

The man hits the ground with a whimper.  He starts to curl up in a pained fashion, "Nooooo...noo...  no names...  no...names...  names don't matter..."  His voice mewled quieter,"just makes it harder...."  He tried to push himself up with shaky arms, "You can...  go...  get the others...  stop them...  wicked.  Wicked folk.  I'll help you.  We'll stop them.  Eh?"

---

Fletcher carried the bits and bobs of destroyed armor bits, tech, gun (that one is heavy), etc.  The whole procedure really gave him a good view of the armor up close.  No longer being shot at by the deactivated armor allowed him to really appreciate just how odd it was.  Obviously military tech from the World that Was.  Cutting edge in its day, but...somehow the shape was wrong...  Rounder...  Like it was purposely designed to look, heavy...or fat...  The military didn't generally bother with that level of aesthetic.

Fletcher!  Make a Weird Science Roll!  And a Spirit Roll....for NO REASON WHATSOEVER.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:18, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

Fletcher rolled 9,1.  spirit.

Fletcher rolled 6,7.  WS.

Fletcher learns things...
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:14, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

Kelly demanded to know.  "WHERE!?"

Fletcher stared at the armor for several long moments, then suddenly came to as if he'd gotten lost in thought.

Kneeling down he began pulling out tools, apparently having decided the armor needed to be disassembled, at least partially, here and now.

The man struggled back up, cringing away from Kelly's demands, "The lake!  Queen!  It needs....water... So much water.... such heat..."  For the first time he almost smiled, just for a second before going back to cringing, "power..."  He dared to look back up to Kelly, but only for a second.  Can't hold meet her eyes, "The stormcrows...  they watch... everywhere... they'll see...   ready the roadies...  Give me my armor...  I'll get you through...  yes...  break them...  help..."

Very suddenly, the man stood straight and turned his suddenly very angry eyes on Fletcher and the armor, "NO!  NO NO!  STOP!  NO!"  He suddenly bolted towards the trailer and the junker....

I'm going to make this like everyone is on Hold.  His total is 6 (Which took me two chips to get, I might add).  Anyone who beats a 6 Agility is welcome to stop him in whatever fashion they like.

19:33, Today: Kelly MacLeod rolled 5,11 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,(6+5)11.  Agility.

Oh that tore it.  Kelly was frustrated with this already, and now he was trying to get out of it.  She had an arm drag takedown with his name written all over it.

Let's call this an unarmed attack, a Wild Attack specifically since Kelly is not really trying to defend herself.

20:23, Today: Kelly MacLeod rolled 4,11 using 1d10+2,1d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(6+3)9.  Wild Attack.

Oh yeah.

I am willing to forego the extra d6 damage to knock him on his butt as a kind of "trapping" to the attack.  Otherwise:

20:25, Today: Kelly MacLeod rolled 9,2,3 using d8+2,d4,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,2,3.  Damage with Raise.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:25, Wed 05 Aug 2020.

The Man didn't make it far.  He had become hyper focused on Fletcher...and the armor...  Ignoring the very angry Templar at his back.  The consequences of which were swift.  He was once again spun to the ground, harder this time.  His arm twisted up and held firm.  Something had to give.  It was his shoulder join by the sound of it.

Surprisingly, this time, he didn't cry out.  Or whimper.  It was horribly painful looking but his eyes remained focused on Fletcher, "STOP!! DAMN YOU!! NO!!  STOP HIM!!!"  There was no one left to answer his growled commands.

Harry's head snapped one way, then the other at the sudden commotion. "Right. He's all yours." He says, and steps out of Delilah's way. Instead, he hustles as fast as he can toward Fletcher, revving his chainsaw arm.

"Where do you need me to shove this?" He asks Fletcher. Now was not the time to ask why. The bit the man had said about stormcrows watching had given him a shiver.

"Why would I stop him he's doing exactly what I asked him to?  If we can't turn that bucket of bolts to a good end, I want it disabled so no one else can abuse it.  Not that it'll stop your ilk from finding some other way."  She glared at him.  "Now, you're going to draw me a map."

Fletcher gave Harry a nod.  He continued working, with Harry's assistance, to disassemble the suit as cleanly as he could while not being afraid of cutting some corners.

He wanted the individual pieces (which ones they might keep anyway) to still be usable after he was done, not to simply turn the whole thing into scrap.