Even the rain is trying to piss you off.

Interstate 41 at 12:52 AM on a Tuesday...well, Wednesday now...morning.  You and two eighteen wheelers heading north.  One is going 50 mph.  The other one is in the other lane, going 51 mph trying to pass the other one.

And the rain's coming down in big, ugly drops.

Your car is shaking a bit.  It should make the trip.  Should.  Of course it will.  No reason to worry about that.

An old 70s country-rock song is thrumming on the raido.

Aaaaaii-me
Whatchu gonna do?
Iiiiii think
I could stay with you
For a while

There's a sign coming up.  Gas n' Eats!  Smiley Welcomes You to Top Off All Your Tanks!  Open 25-7.  Exit in 5

You must have misread that 5.  You've already passed the sign.

And that's when you notice the gas gage is riding on E.  You should have filled up in Chattanooga after all.  And you're too far away from Murfreesboro.

That exit's coming up.

Welcome to it.  Let me know if there are questions.

Thanks

Graham Snow's Civic has seen better days. The tires are looking bare, and the wipers have to do double time to keep the rain off the windshield. At least the AC works. Most of the time.

The song sounds familiar, but he's only half-listening. There's real power in music in all forms, from classical to reggae to death metal. Normally he'd be sussing out the magic in this particular song, but right now, he's more worried about the big E on his gas gauge.

25-7? Graham grins in spite of himself. Truck stops and diners litter this stretch of I-24. Perhaps the universe is steering him to Smiley's today. He hits the blinker and prepares to take the exit.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 2):

Interesting.  Graham's picture is a lot more clean cut than I was expecting

You notice your windshield wipers are keeping time to the country style bass beat going throughout the song as you head up the exit ramp.

Smiley's isn't one of those that sits right up atop the ridge of such exits.  When you get to the top, there's a stop sign, with a country road heading left over the overpass and into the tree line beyond, and to the right, where the road seems to bend around a corner.

You can seem lights that look more like lights from houses on the other side of the overpass to the left.  And a brighter glow coming from around the corner to the right.  But you don't see any signage or other indications there's a truck stop there.  The trees are taller than you expect, so it could just be you can't see anything from where you are.  Rain isn't helping much either.

Left or Right?

You can go straight ahead too and get back on the Interstate.

So much of the world is this massive interconnected web of strings, like a billion spiderwebs all laced together. Pluck one strand, and the entire network vibrates.

Pulling up to the stop sign, Graham weighs his options. Which way to the truck stop? Getting back on the interstate isn't an option, not with the gas gauge riding E. The lights that look like they're coming from a neighborhood might shelter a gas station. However, Smiley has Graham's interest piqued, and the brighter lights to the right seem to indicate something resembling a truck stop.

He looks at the dancing hula girl on his dash. "What do you think, Kissy? Left or right?" She continues to sashay back and forth. "Yeah, I agree. Right it is."

OOC: Let's go right and check out what's around the corner.

You're right about the portrait. How's this one?

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 4):

Sorry.  Wasn't trying to make you self conscious about the portrait.  New one does look a little more jaded.

The rain picks up as you take the right and motor around the bend.

You seem to have made the correct choice.

A large lot lays out on the left hand side of the road.  A brightly lit large shack of sorts sits in the middle of the lot, flanked by four rows of gas pumps, three on the right and one on the left.  All the pumps seem to be for both regular and disel.  Parked out at the edge of the lot, under some lot lamps that are only barely working, four or five eighteen wheelers are parked, the drivers apparently settled in for the night.

The "shack" is actually a decent size for one of these set ups.  You'd guess four thousand square feet or so.

But it's not all slick plastic and fluorescents.  The walls are plain wood, painted what you think is a pea soup green...hard to tell exactly through this rain...and the usual large plate glass windows aren't making up most of the walls.  Instead, it looks like someone renovated their ranch style house and turned it into a truck stop.

No signage is visible. Though you think you see what looks like a statue or mannequin by the front door.  It seems to be lit up somehow.  You'll have to pull in and go up to it to see.

The rain is coming down like a sheet at the moment.

As Graham pulls up to what he expects to be a truck stop, he pauses for a moment to take in the scene. Interesting. Even in Tennessee, he hasn't seen a set-up like this before. Was that someone's house? He wonders about the statue by the door. It reminds him of a statue of an Indigenous man he had seen once in Alabama, the one from the Hank Williams song. What might its story be?

He parks at one of the vacant pumps and gets out to fill his tank. He stifles a yawn. Maybe he can fill up on some coffee inside before he gets back on the interstate.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 6):

I'm shocked someone still has a cigar store Indian up.  Or does your picture not show the protesters forming a human barricade at the restaurant entrance?

The rain sounds like lots of heavy ants clog dancing on the thin roof of the car porch overhead.  Gas prices are pretty cheap here.  Suprisingly so.  A dollar less than in Louisana.

You watch the digits on the gas pump rack up numbers.  There's a loud peal of thunder overhead.  The lights actually flicker for a moment.

You can see the statue now.  It's...not what you expected.  A deep sea diving suit.  That's what it looks like.  One of those big, heavy rigs when guys want to go real far down in the ocean.  Someone has set it up like a statue outside the store entry.

On the face place of the helmet is a smiley face.  The yellow face is winking at you, with it's tongue hanging out on the opposite side of it's goofy grin.

You guess that's the signage.

The pump shuts off.  Your tank is full.

There's another loud boom of thunder.  This time you can see lightning flash.  It's from the direction you came.  Looks like the storm is chasing you up the interstate.

Weird that the gas prices are so cheap here. A dollar less? If anything, Graham is used to gas prices being a few cents more in Tennessee. Pretty strange.

He looks up as thunder crashes past and wonders how much worse this storm is going to be. He finishes pumping his gas, replaces the nozzle, and screws back on the gas cap.

The diving suit is more than a little strange, certainly this far from the ocean. Graham looks up again at the storm and then decides to check out the interior of the gas station. Hopefully the coffee's not more than twelve hours old at this point.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 8):

The door chimes with a friendly Ding! and then a rather clunky DOOOONG

The inside of the shop feels like some one took out the wall between their living room and garage, poured concrete over the floor, and then stuck in refrigiration cases and cheap metal shelving.  It looks like that because...well.  That's what it is.

Along one wall is an old bar.  The bar is set up with fairly newish looking coffee machines, a fountain drink machine, and several hot trays where greasy, old looking sausages turn slowly on heated metal rollers.

Thankfully, it's one of those coffee machines where the beans are ground by the cup.  They have quite a selection of beans too. Columbian.  Dark.  Blacker than Dark.  Robust.  And about seven others.

Across the store/living room from the bar is a counter with the cash register.  An older man, probably in his fifties, is seated behind the register, reading a Diver magazine.  He glances up at you as you come in, then goes back to his magazine.

There's a plethora of goods on the shelves.  Goethe's Cow Tails in all flavors.  Mexican pastries.  Hot 'n Sweaty Chickpea snacks.  The list goes on.

He's not sure what he was expecting, but Graham wasn't expecting this. He's come across some old buildings converted into convenience stores before, but never before has he seen a house transformed like this. Peculiar.

He walks over to the drink bar, chooses Blacker than Dark, and pours himself a cup. He finds himself craving something sweet, maybe some caramel and sea salt Oreos or a chili chocolate bar.

Graham goes up to pay. "Hey, I saw your sign on the interstate. Are you Smiley, or is that the diving suit's name? What's with the '25/7'? And did this place really use to be someone's home?"

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 10):

No chili chocolate bar.  But they do have the Oreos.

The old guy behind the counter stops thumbing pages in the magazine and stares up at you.  His salt and pepper hair has thinned out to a bald pate on the very top of his head.  His clothes smell cleanish, but there are old stains on the sleeves of his t-shirt.  One large one almost blocks out the word Divers in the logo Divers Go Deeper

He sets the magazine aside and swivels around on his stool, reaching upwards to ring up your items.  He doesn't have a scanner.  Each item has a price tag stuck to it.

"Well," he wells, peering at the sticker on the Oreos and then forcefully tapping the keys on the register.  "This was my uncle's house.  And I inherited it.  Too big for one guy.  And I needed a job.  So.."

He shrugs then points at the name tag stitched onto his t-shirt.

BILL

"Smiley was just my nickname when I was workin' down on Gulf Shores.  But that's my suit.  Or was.  I was a police diver.  And I needed a name for this place that was...whadyacallit?.."catchy".  And I thought "Smiley's" might be catchy."

He finishes ringing you up.

"Got your attention, didn't it?"

Outside the rain starts coming down harder.  Bill glances out the window and frowns.  "Weather didn't say it was gonna come down like this.  Roads bad?"

"A diver, huh? What was that like? What made you go into that field? Do you still get a chance to do much diving now that you're not on the coast anymore?" The rain doesn't seem to want to let up, and Graham doesn't mind waiting it out a bit. He takes a sip out of the coffee and watches the rain outside.

"It was coming down pretty hard on the interstate." Graham considers the rain and whether he ought to continue on. He half considers looking for a hotel to bed down for the night.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:13, Tue 09 Aug 2022.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 12):

<blue>BILL</bill> shakes his head when you look around for a scanner to use I-pay.  You hand him your Mastercard.  He apparently can take a credit card.

He shrugs at your question.  "I grew up down in Biloxi.  So been around water all my life.  But..."  He shrugs.  "Now I'm here.  Life takes you where it will.

"You're welcome to wait out the rain."  He points to a far spot on the wall.  A hallway leads further into the building.  "Got a lounge for truckers back there.  Showers you can use if you wanna get the stink off.  Help yourself."

And with that, he picks up his magazine and goes back to reading.

"Thanks, Bill. I think I'll take you up on that offer." Graham collects his coffee and Oreos and wanders off toward the back.

As he goes, he reflects on the rain. Graham thinks about the trucker in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy that has rain follow him wherever he goes. Weird things seem to follow Graham, as well. He is used to the odd and surreal happening to him now, and he wonders if this unexpected rainstorm is part of that.

Still, it's late, and a shower and a short rest sounds good. He wonders when Bill sleeps. If this is his place, why is he up after midnight? He looks back once and then continues onward in search of the shower.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 14):

The hall leads to a kitchen/dining room looking area.  Instead of a dining table, old padded chairs and end tables stacked with magazines line the walls.  Another hallway is at one end, with a sign saying SHOWERS/BATHROOMS.

You find the men's showers.  There are coin lockers for your stuff.  You have to slide a card to get 10 minutes of hot water.  Small bars of hotel soap and mini bottles of shampoo are heaped up in a basket.  The towels are free though.

You shower off the grime and grunge.  There's a frosted window set in one wall of the shower.  Through it you can hear the crack of the thunder and the rain.  The storm sounds like it's smacking the crap out of everything.  You probably made a good choice not driving in it.

As you rinse the last of the shampoo from your hair, you hear something different.

Thud

You wipe water out of your eyes and glance around, expecting maybe you knocked something over.  What you could have knocked over you aren't sure.  But...

It sounded like something thumped against something.

Thud

There it is again.  It's coming from the window.

It's hard to see out of the window, because of it being frosted.  But...it looks like there's something moving around outside?  Something largish?
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:49, Wed 10 Aug 2022.

The shower feels refreshing, though Graham wishes he was about to head for bed. He wonders what magic might linger here. Where even is here? He reminds himself to check his location on Google Maps when he finishes.

And then he hears a sound. What was that? Graham suddenly regrets leaving his haversack out in the Civic.

He moves to the window and peers out, trying to get a better glimpse of whatever's out there.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 16):

You press your face to the frosted glass, trying to puzzle out what's out there.

It's tough to see exactly.  It's both dark, and the glass is so frosted, it's like looking through the bottom of a plastic green tinted soda bottle.

But you can see something long and kind of large sort of...floating around out there.  It's moving in an odd pattern.  Like a cat circling a ball of yarn.  Except this thing is probably bigger than you.  Maybe as big as your civic.

Half-expecting to see a Sasquatch, or more likely, a grizzly, Graham is taken aback by what he does see. "What the hell is that?" he murmurs. He watches for a bit longer, and then hurriedly throws on his clothes and goes back to talk to Bill.

"Bill, do you folks have any weird creatures out here? Like, uh, dragon-shaped?"

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 18):

You step out into the store and notice several things.

First, Bill isn't there.

Second, outside, there's a shark swimming through the air around your car.

The wind must have picked up and the rain is blowing almost sideways, making it under the rain cover over the pumps.  How the shark got there you don't know.  Also, why it's not dead since...you know...it's floating through the air.

But it is definitely a shark.  No questions about that.  You've seen too many episodes of Shark Week specials not to be able to tell.

Of course the shark is between the front door and your car.

Weirdness has a way of showing up around Graham. He never quite knows what to expect when he wakes up each morning. Still, he’s never experienced a flying shark before. For a moment, he wonders if he has slipped into a sequel to Sharknado, maybe Sharktsunami.

Graham closes the door and considers his options. He wonders where Bill might be. A wild thought comes to him - Smiley, Bill’s absence, his time on the coast - maybe Bill’s some kind of wereshark! A wereshark that can swim through the air during torrential downpours.

He walks back down to the lounge area to get a few hours’ rest before he heads back out on the road.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 20):

Like that optimisim

As you turn, you notice a movement behind you.  A quick glance over your shoulder verifies the shark is gone.  Whether it's hiding or it vanished, you don't know.  That is without stepping outside.

As you head back to the lounge, you notice two doors you didn't pay much attention to before.  They are both right outside the archway that leads down the hallway to the lounge.  The one on the left has a sign that reads PRIVATE.  The one on the right has a sign that reads EMPLOYEES ONLY

You settle down on one of the two sofas.  It's lumpy.  The other one is also, but not as bad.  You listen to the rain.  It's still coming down like a dam break.  Your eyelids start to droop.  Sleep washes over you.

HONK

HONK HONK

HONK HONK HONK HOOOOOONK

It takes a second to place the noise.  A truck horn.  It sounds sort of far away.  Hard to hear it well over the rain.  Which is still coming down.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:28, Tue 16 Aug 2022.

Private and Employees Only. Employees only? Graham has only seen Bill so far, and he figures Bill's home is behind the Private sign.

Though not about poking around where he doesn't belong, Graham leaves the two doors alone for the present. Still, if there's a shark swimming around outside, Bill ought to be told about it.

He wakes up a little groggy and checks the time. Graham needs to be back on the road, but it sounds like it's still pouring down outside. Sitting up, he grabs his now-cold coffee and takes a sip. Wondering what might be happening now, he makes his way back toward the store area of the station.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 22):

You make your way down the hallway.  You can still hear the HOOOOOONK.  It sounds like it's coming from back of the store.  Dimly, you remember there were some 18 wheelers parked back there, presumably so the truckers could get some shut eye.

As you make your way out of the hallway and into the store, the lights flicker.  They comes back on, then shut off, then come back on again.  You make your way to the windows.

The rain is still coming down, almost in sheets.  The water is pooling around about ankle deep at the moment.

Your Civic sits by the pump.  Most of your Civic sits by the pump that is.

It's hard to tell because the rain is still coming in sideways, but it looks like there's a section of your car that's missing.  You could swear the passenger side rear tire is...gone.  Whatever it is, that end of your car is sitting on the ground.

You'll need to step outside to see for certain though.  Or wait out the rain.

What . . . what happened to Graham's car? From inside the store, it looks like the back part is missing. What in the world? What started out as a quick pitstop to refuel has turned into something far stranger.

And who was honking back there? Shouldn't all the truck drivers be asleep?

Graham pushes open the door and wades out into the rain to get a better look at what's left of his car.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 24):

The rain feels like a strong ocean wave crashing against you.  Your clothes are instantly soaked to your skin.

You stumble forward and reach your car.  Sure enough, the back passenger side wheel has been...it looks sort of like it's been chewed off.  The metal of the car's body is twisted into teeth marks and the tire is just gone.

The rain pools around your ankles now.  The wind is strong enough that if you fell, it might push you along the ground.

HOOOOOONK

HONK HONK HONK

You can hear the truck horn much better now.  It's on the opposite side of the store and to the back.  You could go around the corner and look.  There's some kind of light back there.  Maybe the street lamps set around the back lot are still on.  Or maybe one of the rigs turned on their headlights.

The rain doesn't seem natural to Graham. He feels like he's in the middle of a hurricane on the Gulf, not a rainstorm up in Tennessee. What the hell had happened to his car? Had that shark eaten part of it? It sounded absurd in his brain.

And what the hell was that honking sound? Bracing himself against the wind and the rain, Graham tries to make his way around to the back of the store.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 26):

The wind pushes at your back.  As if the storm is urging you to hurry.  Or forcing you towards something.

You get to the edge of the store.  There's an ice machine quietly humming as it makes ice no one currently needs.  Peeking around it, you can see out to the truck lot.

The rain cooperates for once.  It lets up for a moment, giving you a better view.  One of the trucks has it's cab lights on.  You think the trucker is sitting behind the wheel.  Someone is.  Whoever it is apparently is leaning on their horn.  The source of the HONK HOOOOONK

Something is moving around outside the truck.  Or somethings.  You can see at least two of them.  They are kind of a dark greenish brown.  Almost like someone's wearing an ivy bush.  One of the shapes is grabbing on to the driver's side door.  The other is crawling up the hood.  As you watch, that second one seems to clamber up on the windshield and starts to hammer at it.  You can hear a sound like glass cracking over the horn blaring.

The rain picks that moment to pick back up.  It starts to drive down now and your view is obscured.

But you think you hear glass breaking.

And the honking stops.

Whoa. What are those things? Graham squints through the rain, trying to make out what's crawling all over the truck. His imagination jumps to the idea of living plant creatures.

He looks around for some kind of weapon he can use. With this torrential rain coming down, he isn't likely to find very much. And if these things are living plants, he's not sure a baseball bat or a rock will do much against them.

Cupping his hands together, he hollers, "HEY! HEY, YOU! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

OOC: Yell to try to attract the things attacking the truck. Look for a weapon. If the creatures turn towards Graham, run back to the store.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 28):

Your voice cuts through the rain.  As you peer, you think you can see the green...whatevers...start to peel themselves away from the truck.  They're definitely moving towards you.

You peer around for a weapon.  Nothing screams out at you.  Maybe a bag of ice from the ice machine?

As you glance around, you notice the door to the storefront shake.  You scramble back there and see Bill, locking the door and you outside.

He stares at you in the eyes, then turns, and runs into the store.  He starts to disappear down the hallway, reaching out to cut off light switches as he does so.  The inside of the store goes dark except for the lights of the coolers, advertising Mr. Pibb.

You hear a sloshing sound coming from back of the store.  The green...whatevers must be getting closer.

Your Civic beckons.  Even if it can't move, you have the key to it.  You can lock yourself inside.  Maybe you have something you can use to fight in there.

Vaguely, you recall there was what looked like an entrance on the other side of the store.  You think there was a door that lead into the bathroom and showers from outside.  Bill may not have locked that one.

Or you can try something else.  But at the moment, you are locked outside with the green...whatevers.

Graham is a magician. Well, a shaman/witch, to be more precise. But his brand of magic takes time and preparation, much like how Batman can defeat any opponent given enough time.

But Graham has no time right now.

He registers Bill locking him outside. Either the man is fearful or malevolent. Perhaps a little of Column A, a little of Column B.

Good grief. He has to stop this internal Peter Quill monologuing.

Thinking fast, he runs for the ice machine. Maybe he can - beat these plant monsters to death with bags of ice?

It’s worth a try!

OOC: Graham will run towards the ice machine. If there are bags of ice inside, he’ll grab one and start pummeling the dudes in green.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 30):

As the green...whatevers...come closer, you can see they are...well.  Kelp?

They look like big mounds of seaweed, each about the size of a big dog.  But you could swear that instead of legs you can see human hands reaching out from under the mounds, pulling them forward as they race towards you at a surprising clip.

We are in combat then.

I would think you are going first.  These things are not the most dexterous of beings.

You have your bag of ice.  Have at

The absurdity of the situation would almost make Graham smile, if these beings did not seem to have an air of malice to them. Kelp, a shark, a former diver and his diving suit - they all seem to be connected somehow. Has Graham been transported to the bottom of an ocean somewhere? And why had Bill shut up the store?

Graham hopes he is able to find some answers. But for now, he intends to teach these assholes some manners.

Swing the bag of ice like Graham’s in a pillow fight.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 32):

You can roll your own attack and skill rolls in this game.  I am going to pause us there.  When I get back, we will handle the bag of ice/kelp fight.

Thanks

Graham swings with the weight of glaciers behind him. Oddly, he finds himself hungry for a nice watercress salad.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 34):

You would think GURPs would have a "flail with a sack of ice" skill.  They have so many others.  But Brawl works.

Okay.  I will use the rolls you have here and then roll for you going forward.

Thanks!

You manage to slam the ice bag on top of one of the piles of hands/algae.  The thick sack squashes the pile flat.  It rips open and ice erupts out into the water that is pooling around your ankles.

The other pile of algae seems to hesitate.  You have apparently spooked it.  Unfortunately, it's between you and the ice machine.  So your weapon is less a club and more a pixie stick.

Sorry. Bag of ice broke.  But you seem to have downed one of them.

Your move

Graham wishes he had some spooky voodou to use. He should really have a charm or two on him. Unfortunately, his kitbag is in his car. At least, he hopes it still is. The Civic did get bitten in half, after all.

He does his best Bruce Lee impression, taking a stance and readying himself for the soppy algae.

OOC: Elbows up, hands in front in a kung-fu pose. Get ready to punch and kick!

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 36):

The algae apparently didn't see that movie.  It launches itself at you...

...and misses.  Widely.  It sails past you wiiiiiddde on the right.

You catch a brief glimpse of it as it sails by.  It's like some algae rug, and hiding underneath it are some hands and maybe a glaring, dead looking eye.  But then it's gone and splashing into the pool of ankle deep rain water that's filling up the drive.

Your go

What is this thing? The creature looks like something in some weird monster movie from the 60s. Where did it come from, and how had it gotten here? Well, when in doubt, stomp the crap out of it!

Graham raises a foot and tries to stomp on the thing.

OOC: Stomping time!

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 38):

You bring that foot. Down. Smack. Dab. In the middle of the...whatever it is.

There are bubbles rising to the surface of the pooling water.  You feel something grab at you ankle.  Mostely because something did.  A human hand with grayish blue looking skin is reaching out from under the algae and grabbing at your ankle.  It's trying to pull you off balance, though it's not doing a good job of it.

Your go

Not good. Graham knows he's out of his depth with this one - or maybe in an entirely new set of depths. He wants nothing more than to get away from whatever this human-algae-seaweed creature is.

As the rain continues to pour down, he backs away, trying to get out of reach of the thing.

OOC: Retreating Dodge. Try to stay away from Algae Thing. Look for a weapon to use.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 40):

You back away and -whoof- run into something behind you.

It's the diving suit.  As you look, you can see it's got a spear gun in a holster.  It looks like it's loaded.  Though whether it will actually fire...?

Ah, the diving suit! With that miniature harpoon or whatever it is. Graham reaches for it to see if the thing might actually be usable.

OOC: I thought Bill had decided to join us and put on that suit! Take a second to aim at the algae thing, and then fire.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 42):

You swing the spear gun around and fire...

...and miss.  But just.  The algae lurches forward, a hand reaching out to grab your ankle.

I will point out you still have the gun part of the spear gun in your hand.

Wincing as the harpoon misses its mark, Graham tries to back up to keep out of reach of the creature’s clammy hand. I knew I should have signed up for that Arcane Weapons elective. He has no reloads with his weapon, so Graham decides to try to pistol whip the greenish ghoul.

OOC: Try to batter the thing with the butt-end of the harpoon gun.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 44):

You lift the spear gun over head and bring it down...right smack on the middle of the algae cluster/thing.

The storm is loud.  The pounding of the rain and the rumble of thunder.  But you swear you can hear a shriek as you smack the algae puddle.  It quivers and stops moving, just floating there on the surface of the rain water pool.

The torrential rain continues to pour down, soaking Graham to the skin. He looks at the weird algae thing he just smacked. What was it? What was it doing in Tennessee? Was this some creature from the bottom of the ocean? Was it an alien?

Not having any good answers, Graham turns to look back towards his car. How badly was it damaged? It had looked as though a good chunk of it had been bitten off.

It looks like something with a very big mouth took a bite out of it.  Specifically the rear passenger side.  The tire is gone.  The trunk is ripped in half, and if you had stuff in the trunk, it's either missing, torn in half, strewn out in the pooling rain, or somehow miraculously still intact.

You can't open the back passenger door.  It's still there, but the bite or whatever must have wedged it shut. You can still open the other doors though.  Anything you had inside the car or on the backseat are fine, though jostled about.

There's another peal of thunder.  The storm doesn't seem like it's going to let up anytime soon.

You're soaked to the skin and the rain is well past your ankles now.  Though, for some reason, it hasn't gotten into your car despite the holes now in said car.  You glance back at the gas station.  The water has risen over the curb and lapping at the door, though it doesn't seem to have gotten inside yet.

Shelter would probably be a good idea.

Man, what did I do to deserve this? Graham Snow looks glumly at his partially destroyed Civic. What the hell is he supposed to do now? And when did Tennessee become Hell World? He's probably a thousand feet above sea level right now, but it feels more like twenty thousand leagues under the sea out here.

He opens the front door and takes out his kitbag. The act makes him feel a little more secure, but magic takes a long time to prepare, and there's not a lot he can do right now, especially with the current deluge.

Cradling his precious bag as if it were a child, Graham trudges back through the rain to the front door of the store and pounds on the front door. "Hey! Bill! Let me in! It's nuts out here!"

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 48):

You pound on the glass.  Whether because he can't hear you or because he's ignoring you, Bill doesn't show up.

You could try to break the glass.  Or maybe try that door on the opposite side.  Or there was that window back in the shower room.

Lastly, you hadn't noticed it before...or maybe hadn't paid attention...there's an access ladder bolted to the side of the building by the ice machine.  One that would give access to the roof.

Shelter is utmost in Graham's mind. Why did I come out here in this rain? Oh yeah, that honking.

Climbing up the ladder in this downpour seems crazy, and Graham doesn't fancy trying to smash in the window. He leaves them for further possibilities and hurries around to the other door to see if it's open.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 50):

You slosh through the rising water...it's up to your knees now...and come to the door on the other side.

You pull and it doesn't budge.  Great.

Then you see the sign that says PUSH.  Oh yeah.  So you push.

Doesn't budge.

Before you can cuss, you glance to your left.  There's a window.  And it's half open.

Pulling yourself through, you seem to be in some kind of storage room.  It's filled with mops and buckets and such things.

You stand there for a moment, realizing how much water you've soaked up.  Behind you the rain continues outside.

You get the feeling you should shut the window.  There's a door leading further into the store opposite you.

Do you shut the window? Or open the door?
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:26, Fri 07 Oct 2022.

How is it raining so much? If this keeps up, Tennessee is going to wind up below sea level. Maybe God's decided to flood the world again. Not a terribly appealing prospect, especially for someone like Graham Snow.

Just to be safe, Graham shuts the window and considers how well it might keep out the rising floodwaters. Probably not very. This whole scenario reminds him of New Orleans and how the city is still cleaning up after Hurricane Katrina.

With the window closed, Graham decides to see what's on the other side of the door.

OOC: Close the window, then go through the door.

I mean, open it first.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 52):

The door seems to let out onto the back of the store.  To your right is a refrigerator door.  You think it would lead to behind the cooler where drinks are stacked.

To your left is pile of boxes of soda syrup, each connected to a plastic hose that runs up into the ceiling.  You must be behind the soda machine.

There is another door to your right.  Opening it, you are looking into the hallway that leads to the shower/lounge.  If you turn right from here, you'll go to the lounge.  If you turn left, you'll be back in the store.

Straight across the hall is a door with a sign on it.  Private.  There's light coming from under it.

Graham is soaked to the skin. More than this, he is annoyed and not a little angry. Why had Bill locked him out in that torrential downpour? What kind of creatures had Graham interrupted? What was up with all this rain?

He momentarily considers calling on Debas to get his read on the situation, but Graham doubts the Captain would care for gas station food. There is a good chance that a decent rib joint is within thirty minutes of Bill's, but that's moot at this point.

Private. Must be Bill's office or apartment. Graham walks across the hall and knocks on the door.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 54):

Knock knock

"I gotta shotgun!"  It's Bill.  He sounds hoarse and scared.  Also you hear a click which sounds like maybe he does have a shotgun.

"Try ta get in here an' I'll blow your ass outta your backside!"

Yeah.  That probably sounded better in his head.

"It's me, Bill! Graham! Don't shoot! What the hell is going on outside?" Graham is careful to stay well away from the door, but he wonders why Bill is so frightened. Maybe the deep sea diving equipment is just coincidental, but Graham is starting to wonder if there is some kind of curse on this place.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:23, Fri 14 Oct 2022.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 56):

There's a silence.

"Graham?  Graham who?  Oh wait.  Your that chatty guy who came in, ain't ya?"

A sigh.

"Well.  I'm sorry.  But your luck ain't for shit.  You came to the wrong station on the wrong night.  It's..."

A long pause.

"You're not gonna believe this.  But the Gulf of Mexico's comin' ta kill us."

”The Gulf of Mexico? What the hell do you mean, Bill?” There was a story here, and Graham’s imagination is immediately piqued. Graham has seen some weird stuff himself, but Bill must be using a turn of phrase. The entire Gulf is surely not washing up into this pit stop in Tennessee.

”Do you have any idea how to stop whatever’s going on? And you don’t happen to have a rack of ribs or something handy, do you?”

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 58):

"Ha!" Bill barks a laugh.  "If I could stop it, do ya think I'd be stuck in the middle of no-fuckin'-where Tennessee?  It's what I told ya!  The Gulf of Mexico hates me!  And it's comin' ta eat me up!  Take a look outside if ya don't believe me!

"There's some burritos by the microwave.  Eat up!  We're gonna die anyway!"

Microwaved burritos. Graham blanches. Of course, an authentic burrito is an amazing thing, but he doubts Debas is going to be very happy with gas station fare.

"Listen, I've kind of made a study of curses and how to unravel them! What happened that made the Gulf so pissed at you? Has it tried to kill you before? Anything you can tell me might help me figure out how to get rid of this curse!"

OOC: Try to pump as much information out of Bill as possible. Then go make some of those burritos and attempt to call on Captain Debas with the burrito offering.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 60):

There's a long silence.  Outside the rain sounds like it's a basketball stadium crowd stomping it's feet off in the distance.

"You believe me?"

Bill sounds shocked.  And uncertain.

"How do I know you just don't wanna get me talkin' so you can try to get my shotgun away from me?"

Graham laughs. "Keep your shotgun, and keep your door locked. A certain distrust is healthy! A gun isn't going to do much good against all that water outside, anyway. But help me understand what's going on so I can try to stop us both from getting drowned."

OOC: Use Diplomacy to try to get Bill to speak about what happened to him. Try to allay his fears that Graham wants to take his shotgun away.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 62):

Another long pause.

"Okay.  Let's jus' say you do actually believe me.  What can you do about it?  I mean..."

A sigh.

"Fine.  You're ass is on the line too.  I'll tell ya this.

"My family line's descended from Ponce De Leon.  Ya heard a' him?  He was the guy who discovered the Gulf.  Or at least the first European who sailed it.  Well.  It was his expedition.  Anyway.

"He kinda...pissed the Gulf off.  It's kinda a long story.  And frankly I don't know the truth of it.  All I know is he cheated on some kinda deal he made with the Gulf a' Fuckin' Mexico.  And it wants to collect.

"My kin always die a' drowning.  Doesn't matter where they are.  They can be in the middle of the motherfuckin' Sahara.  They'll drown.

"As far as I know, I'm the only one left.  Never had any kids cos I didn't want my kids to have ta live like I've lived.

"The Gulf's come after me a few times.  One time, I was takin' a shower, an' the water wouldn't shut off.  It wouldn't drain down the drain either.  It formed up into a thing and chased me all over the house.  Had to turn off the water main at the street and beat the water thing into pieces with a baseball bat.  Then soak it up with like ever towel and bed sheet I owned.  Then bury all them wet sheets.

"It wants ta drown me.  And I don't wanna drown.  So that's where we are.

"See?  Told ya you wouldn't believe me."

"He cheated the Gulf of Mexico, huh?" On the other side of the door, Graham Snow rubs his chin. If he could find out what the deal was and what de Leon had done, perhaps he could find a way to appease the Gulf.

"I believe you, Bill. I've seen firsthand the kind of family curse that can wipe out every single person in a bloodline. I don't feel like dying tonight, either. I'm going to make a call to a friend and see what he thinks about all of this. Maybe we can get the Gulf to give up this waterboarding vendetta. I'll come back if I have any more questions for you."

Leaving Bill, Graham hurries back into the store and locates the burritos. He sighs. The Captain isn't going to be that fond of these. Graham hopes for his own sake that Debas will understand Graham's use of gas station grub.

He grabs six and starts heating them up in the microwave and looks for a plate to put them on. Then, he opens with a prayer.

"Hear, Lord, our wishes and our prayers, and since in your infinite goodness you give us your Saints for intercessors, make us feel through the Saints the sweet effects of your mercy; may by their prayers we be helped and comforted in all that we are suffering at this time. O Saints who have a special grace to protect against the danger of perishing in water, pray for all who call on you."

Next, Graham opens up his kit bag and takes out a ziplocked bag of corn meal. Taking a handful out, he starts tracing out a symbol on floor of the gas station, the veve of Captain Debas.

Then, he starts singing.

"Early in the mornin', risin' to the street
Light me up that cigarette and I'll strap shoes on my feet
Got to find the reason, reason things went wrong
Got to find a reason why my money's all gone
I got a Dalmation and I can still get high
I can play the guitar like a motherfuckin' riot."

OOC: Call on Captain Debas with the offering of the burritos and the song.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:50, Thu 20 Oct 2022.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 64):

Bill calls after you.  "Who the hell you gonna call about somethin' like this?"

You heat up the spicy beef 'n bean burritos and find a plastic tray to put them on.  Then you do your little dance and you sing your little song...

"Sheeee-it.  Look a' this.  These got nothin' but preservatives.  Nothin' but additives.  Have ya never heard a' organics in this day an' age?"

The Captain isn't stepping through. But he is at least talking.

You can hear him.

Graham nods his head. He hadn't expected the loa to accept the offering of gas station crap. "I'm sorry for the lack of tasty food, Captain Debas. There's a terrible storm outside, and these pitiful burritos are the best this shop can do in terms of food."

Just on the off chance that Bill had been wrong, Graham looks around for a better option.. Now, if Graham had been in Nashville, he could have gone after a plate of Prince's Hot Chicken. Even the thought makes his mouth water.

"Apparently an ancestor of the man who owns this store did something to piss off the Gulf of Mexico. Now the Gulf's on its way here to kill this man. I was wondering if you might know of a way to appease the Gulf's wrath."

OOC: Use Diplomacy. Adopt a polite, respectful tone.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 66):

Unless the Captain likes Ho Hos, there isn't much.

Then again.  Who doesn't like Ho Hos?

Sheeee-it.  That damn water's always pissy over somethin'.  That's why there's so many damn hurricanes.

If it's blood it's aftah though, it ain't gonna be settled by anything other than blood.  Oceans an' seas gotta nature that wants to drown.

I'd be askin' this fool what exactly he did.  Gulf a' Mexico isn't gonna make a trip like this jus' cos some ancestor done somethin' stupid.  And this don't smell like hate.

This storm smells like love.

"Love, you say?" Graham considers the possibilities. The Gulf isn't trying to kill Bill. He grins. Maybe the Gulf is in love with him and wants to be with him. Very interesting.

"Thank you so much, Captain Debas. You've given me a much different way to look at this. When I leave this place, I'll find a much better offering for you."

Graham says goodbye to the Captain and rushes back to Bill.

"Bill! The Gulf doesn't hate you! It's in love with you! What the hell did you do to make the Gulf fall in love with you?"

OOC: At the end of this adventure, Graham will look for a better offering for Captain Debas. I know, we haven't gotten there yet.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 68):

There's a long moment of silence.

"What tha fuck are you talkin' about?"

"That's what my source says."

Graham is quiet for a moment. "I know curses. There's a heavy one on my family, goes back generations. It's killed every single member of my extended family except for me, a niece, and a nephew. I've been travelling around, learning as much as I can about curses." Graham reflects on the situation. He still doesn't know which of his ancestors was the reason for the curse, or why they were cursed, or even what magic tradition the curse came from.

"This storm doesn't smell of hate. It smells of love."

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 70):

"It smells of love."

Another long pause.

"Look.  I get that you're freaked out by everything goin' on.  And sorry you got wrapped up in it and all. But you're not gonna trick me outta my shotgun if that's what you're after here."

"Come on, dude. I don't want your fucking shotgun. This storm is in love with you, my friend. It wants to be with you, and it probably doesn't even think about the fact that it's drowning you."

Graham sighs and rubs his temple. What is he saying? Can a body of water even think? It's probably acting on instinct, some kind of primal attraction. "You must have made quite an impression on the Gulf to make it come all the way up here. Listen, I'm going to go back to that lounge. You think it over, okay? I can help you, probably."

Walking back to the lounge, Graham sinks down on a chair and tries to think. It's late, and he's tired, but he often does his best thinking at 3 in the morning. Bill had said his family had all been killed by water, but Captain Debas said the storm smelled of love. What might be going on here? Maybe Ponce de Leon got it on with the Gulf back in the day, and Bill's a descendent of the very Gulf of Mexico itself.

OOC: Try to think if he's ever heard of some part of nature falling in love with a human before. Or how to convince a storm that a human isn't interested in it. Or if Captain Debas would really go for some Ho Hos.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 72):

"This isn't the time ta get stoned man..."

Doesn't sound like Bill is buying into it.

You flip through your mental Wikipedia, trying to think of a precedent...

What knowledge skill might you have that you think would best suit this kind of lore roll?

Thanks

In reply to Editor-in-Chief (msg # 73):

I figured it'd be Occultism.

I'll make the rolls, but you get to call the skill unless otherwise noted.

Thanks

There are all kinds of stories in mythology about people loved by forces of nature.  Usually though the "nature" is some kind of god or mystical creature.  Not an entire body of water.

In most of the stories you can recall, the "nature" wants to take the beloved back with them.  Which might be why there's all this rain.  Since Mohammed isn't going to the mountain in Bill's case, the mountain seems to be going to Mohammed.

In all the tales you can recall, the "nature" acts like a jealous lover.  Maybe the key here isn't thinking of it as a supernatural entity but a...what?..Stalker?

Graham sits, deep in thought. Surely there's some kind of ritual he could invoke to make the ocean leave Bill alone, but for the life of him, he can't think of anything. How would he get rid of a stalker? Scare it away? Call the cops? Confront it? How the hell do you make the ocean back off?

Let's see. What did Moana do? The ocean seemed to love her. If only real life were as easy as a Disney movie.

But wait. Bill said his whole family has died by drowning. So it's not just Bill, then. The Gulf has been in love with Bill's family for generations.

Graham growls in frustration. Why does he always seem to land in these kinds of situations?

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 75):

You're on the right track with your comment about Bill's family.

Do you have anything that would let you talk to the Gulf ritual wise?  You can try DreamWalk.
 The Dream World isn't too far from the Spirit World after all.  Or maybe try dreamwalking into Bill's dreams.  He may know more than he thinks he does.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:09, Fri 04 Nov 2022.

There is still so much Graham doesn't know about the unseen world. That storm out there right now, that's a physical manifestation, but there are deeper forces at work that Graham has only just begun to get to know. If it had been a supernatural force that took the form of an animal, Graham has an idea of how to deal with that. But an angry force of wind and water?

There's Captain Debas, of course, but Graham already called on him once, and he doesn't want to become annoying to the loa.

Maybe he should just start singing songs from Moana.

"I've been staring at the edge of the water
'long as I can remember
never really knowing why..."

OOC: I could call on Captain Debas again, but he's already given Graham some advice. I'll put points into learning other paths when I get the chance.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 77):

Oh jeez.  I think I was looking at the wrong draft of Graham because I thought you had put points in the Path of Dreams.  Sorry about that.

The problem is the rolls I've been getting for you have been awful.

I can make the following recommendations:

1) Try to reason with Bill again. I would suggest you make the Diplomacy rolls yourself.  Like I said-I've really been bombing your rolls.  You need more info as you said.

2) You can try to Call up Debas again.  Again, roll yourself as my rolls have stunk here.

3) You might be able to get inside the room after knocking Bill out.  You do have Slumber, right?

4) There is one other solution, though it's not a nice one.  The storm wants Bill, right?  Then you serve him up.  You have a Lust ritual too, right?

Those are the ideas I can come up with off the top of my head.  This is just the intro story and meant to give Graham a test drive.  So don't sweat it too much.  We can find a way through.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:15, Mon 07 Nov 2022.

Sitting on the couch, Graham finds himself nodding off. Swearing, he stands and starts pacing back and forth. He toys with the idea of trying to make Bill fall in love with the Gulf, but he knows that this would lead to Bill's death. As much as Graham is tempted, he knows he needs a good reason to intentionally bring harm to a person.

He decides to try reason again with Bill. He walks back toward the door labelled PRIVATE.

"Hey, man, this is serious! You have to open your mind! There are things in this world greater than you or me, and they don't always make a lot of sense. That storm out there is in love with you!"

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 79):

As you head towards Bill's room, you can see out the door outside.  The water level has risen to where it would be at about chest level.  It's weird.  That much water should be enough to burst the windows.  At the very least, force the doors to swing open. But it isn't.  The doors are staying shut.  The windows are steady.  Either Bill built this place to survive being submersed or the flood is very well mannered, not entering when it hasn't been invited.

As you plead once more with Bill, there's a silence.  Then, surprisingly, the sound of deadbolts clicking.

Bill's door opens up.  He comes out, albeit shotgun first.  But he comes out.

Keeping you covered with the shotgun, he glances quickly towards the flood waters.  Clicking his tongue, he glares back at you.

"You keep talkin' shit.  How can a storm love me?  What does that even mean?"

Bill's obviously not buying into anything yet.  But...

There's a look in his eyes.  He's desperate.  He seems to want to believe you might give him an answer.

"How much do you know about mythology, Bill?" Truthfully, Graham's expertise is more in the realm of the here and now, not the distant past, but he figures it's worth a shot. "Look at that water. That much pressure ought to be smashing in all the glass in this shop, but the storm is staying outside. That's different, isn't it?"

Graham keeps his hands where Bill can see them, palms down. Nothing in this hand. Nothing up my sleeve. "Did you ever read that book, The Giving Tree? It was all about a tree that loved a boy so much that it gave him every part of it. Douglas Adams heard about a story of a man who was actually a rain god, and the rain followed him wherever he went. He was so intrigued by the story that he included it in one of his novels."

He folds his arms and looks out at the shop, at the level of the water, how it seems to keep its distance. "You yourself said your ancestor did something to piss off the Gulf. What if the Gulf isn't mad, though? Maybe it fell in love instead. Maybe it sees in you your ancestor, and it just wants to be with you. But it's being real polite about it. It's basically knocking on your front door, asking if you can come outside."

"But it's water. It doesn't have a brain like you and me, and it probably doesn't know it's been killing you and your kin all these years. You have that diving suit out there. That would protect you from the water. Dude, it just wants to be with you, and it travelled all the way up into Tennessee to find you."

"What's that old saying? 'The sea is a sailor's mistress'? But she can be a cruel mistress, can't she? Maybe not even realizing it."

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 81):

Nice

Bill listens, his mouth going from a scowl to a frown to a sort of wavy line of desperation.

He slowly lowers the shotgun.

"Well how does that make sense?  How does any a' this shit make sense?"

He glances towards the doors.

"You sayin' I should jus' put on that divin' suit and...what?  Head out?  See what it's got in store for me?"

Graham shrugs. "You said it yourself, Bill. You see your family as cursed. Mine is, too. I know curses are real. But this here, this isn't a curse. It's like that, but nicer, I think."

He considers the older man seriously. "I'm not sure what will happen if you put on that diving suit and go out there in the storm. The Gulf wants to be near you, and it's killed your family members. If it does feel love for you, though, I don't think it meant to kill your family."

"Tell me what you heard about the Gulf and Ponce De Leon. Anything you can think of. You said he cheated on a deal he made. Do you have any idea what the deal was?"

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 83):

He sighs and nods for you to follow him.  He leads you behind the previously locked door.

He's set up a little studio type apartment back here.  Cramped even for one guy, it's uncomfortably cozy for the both of you.  He points for you to sit on the single bed, which is the only thing to really sit on here, and goes to a small closet.  He rummages inside and comes back with an old rusty strongbox about 2'x2'.

The lid squeals as he pushes it open.

Inside is a necklace and a sheet of old yellowed paper, preserved by lamination.

The necklace looks like it should be in a museum.  The thong is a long string of tough, knotty leather.  There are various small bones and shells hung from it.

The paper looks to be something someone insane would scribble.  There are words.  You guess they would be in Spanish maybe?  Portuguese?  And then there are symbols written over it.  Splashed over it more like.  Whoever painted the symbols on did so haphazardly.

Which skills would you like to use on what?

Thanks

"Do you know the story behind these?" Graham looks curiously at the necklace and the aged sheet of paper. Perhaps they mean nothing, or perhaps they hold the clues Graham needs to understand this situation more fully.

He first gently holds the necklace and then the laminated sheet of paper. Next, he examines the paper to see if he recognizes the scrawlings. Finally, he takes pictures of both the necklace and the paper.

"I'll see what I can find out about these two online. If I come up empty, I can ask a friend for some help."

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 85):

The words on the paper are Spanish, though archaic.  Parts of it are illegible, mostly because the symbols cover it.  But if it's legit...

I, Ponce de Leon, swear on my

Something.  Something.  More something.

...pledge my seed ever until...

More something.

...the fount runs dry...

You get a hit on a couple of the symbols.  Timucuan.  The symbols are from an old Native American tribe called the Timucua.

From what you can tell on Google, they relate to the words Oath and Water maybe?

While you are not as familiar with the symbols, you know a magical circle when you see one.  And that's what the symbols are drawn as.  Ritual magic.  Binding by the smell of it.  Some kind of pact.

”Huh. Interesting. Graham considers the results of his searches. ”Yeah, there definitely was some pact made here. By Ponce de Leon, no less. Shit, Bill, these artifacts belong in a museum.”

Graham frowns. ”Definitely ritual magic here. The problem is that I can’t figure out everything this says. ‘I, Ponce de Leon, swear on my…pledge my seed (that’s you and your kin, Bill) ever until…the fount runs dry (maybe until there’s none of your family left?).’”

”Hm. A couple of these symbols. ‘Oath’ and ‘water.’ This must be the contract or whatever de Leon made with the Gulf. Let me see what my guy thinks about these.”

Graham walks back into the main shop with the two relics. He places them in the middle of the cornmeal pattern he has drawn on the floor. Then he looks around for anything better than microwaved burritos.

He prays again. ”Saints and angels above, don’t let this storm destroy us. Shelter us that we may continue to do good in this world. Guard our steps and guide our thoughts.”

Clearing his throat, he starts to sing again.

”Take this pink ribbon off my eyes
I'm exposed, and it's no big surprise
Don't you think I know exactly where I stand?
This world is forcing me to hold your hand….”

OOC: Call on Captain Debas again. Show him the necklace and the paper. Ask him what he thinks the “Oath” and “Water” might mean and if there’s a way to satisfy this pact without Bill dying.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 87):

The Captain is quiet for a spell Get it?.  When he does speak, it's with a bit of reluctance.

"Dis is some heavy foolishness.  That's all you need ta know about it.

"There's two ways I can see you takin' here.

"The smart way.  And the way that'd be good for all a' us would be if you took this fool by the neck an' drag him outside.  Let the water take him.

"Dere's another way.  Let me teach you.  Remember this: water ain't wise.  It's heavy an' powerful an' of much need.  But it can't think too far ahead.  First clear channel it sees, water gonna rush in an' fill it up.  Don't matter if there's a better channel down the way.  That ain't how water thinks.

"So water can be fooled.  If you give this water somethin' that smells of that fool you wanna protect, then it'll take it instead.  It's gotta be somethin' that really stinks of 'im.  That suit outside would work.  But if you could give it his blood or his voice, that'd be even better.  The more it is like him, the faster the water will claim it instead.  You dig?"

So either shove Bill outside or gussy up the diving suit and try to fool the water into thinking it's Bill.

The suit is outside right now.  So you'd have to bring it inside to get it ready.  Which means you either have to open up the front door, dash outside through the water, grab the suit, and haul it back in.

You don't know if the water had covered the roof yet.  If it hasn't, you might be able to get up there and see if there's a way to fish the suit out from above.  It would require some solid line and manpower.  That suit is heavy.  But it could be done.

If you can think of another way, that might work too.

Questions?

Graham considers just trying to convince Bill to go out into the storm. But humans weren't built for breathing underwater, and Bill doesn't seem to be a bad sort, though he did lock Graham out in the face of the Gulf.

Racing back to Bill's room, Graham says, "We do have one shot. We can try to trick the Gulf into thinking your diving suit out there is you, but it's not going to be easy."

"Do you have any rope and an anchor we could use to pull it up onto the roof? It's going to need to smell and sound like you, too. I'm thinking we stuff it with your sheets or clothes. Do you have a Bluetooth speaker, or maybe a phone you don't mind sacrificing to keep you alive?"

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 89):

Bill seems confused at first.  "My suit..? Uh.  I got rope yeah.  Some line I use ta tie down stuff with."

It turns out he has an anchor as well.  It's a small one, like for use with a boat. But it should do the job.

There's a ladder up to the ceiling in the back store room.  Above is a hatch, latched shut.  It should lead up onto the roof.

You just need to open the hatch and...see if tons of water start pouring down on you.

Any other prep before we pop that hatch and see what the roof looks like?

"Can you help me tie this rope to the anchor? You stay down here, out of the storm, but when I call, help me pull on the rope to lift your suit up and into the shop."

"Let's see what it looks like up there," Graham says. He prays silently that the storm will not simply flood in once he raises the hatch.

OOC: Graham will tie the rope on the anchor with Bill's help. The plan is for Bill to stay below with the tail end of the rope and be ready to pull when Graham gives him the signal.

Once the anchor is tied to the rope, Graham will open the hatch and climb out onto the roof.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 91):

You lift the hatch...and DIE!!

No.  Not really.  The rain lashes at your face and soaks what little bit of your shirt that had dried out.  But the waters haven't yet covered the roof.  Looking over the side, the water must be about five feet deep.  You can see the trucks out in the parking lot.  They look like artificial islands in the middle of a dark lake.

You drop the anchor over the side.  After a few swings, you manage to latch onto the suit.  Yelling for Bill to heave ho, the two of you begin to work for it.

It. Is. Freakin'. Heavy.

Go ahead and make me a STR check.  You'll pull the suit up.  I just need to see how long it will take you.

The suit starts to come up over the top of the roof.  You grab it and pull hard, swinging it over the top.

The suit suddenly starts to get dragged backwards.  In a flash of lightning you can see some of that kelp has grabbed the left leg of the suit and is pulling it backwards, trying to pull it back into the water.

Graham heaves with all of his might. The suit is heavy, far heavier than he anticipated, and to top it off, the ocean doesn't want to relinquish it, not without a fight. Is Graham stronger than seaweed? Or will the Gulf reclaim the diving suit?

OOC: Heave!

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 93):

Hey Sir.  Welcome back.  I gotta remember where we are.  Will post Thursday (usually off on Wednesdays).  Hope things are well.

In reply to Editor-in-Chief (msg # 94):

You put your back into it.  Then you add your abs and shoulders and spleen.

The kelp was no match for you.  It almost was.  But not quite.

You lay there a moment, with the suit next to you, staring up at the clouds.  The rain continues to pelt the roof.  You're soaked down to your BVDs.

But you have what you need.  You think.

Alright.  Time for Operation: Fool the Gulf.

How do you want to dress up the suit?  Or do you want to use it as is?

What a night. Graham's muscles ache from the tug of war with the sentient kelp, but somehow he was able to pull up the diving suit.

He could really go for a drink right about now.

The suit weighs a ton, but Graham bends with his knees, picks it up again, and carries it over to the hatch and eases it into the living area.

"Okay, let's stuff your sheets in this thing. That should make it smell more like you." Captain Debas had recommended Bill's blood or voice, or maybe both. Graham sighs. He really liked his phone.

"We need to make this thing more like you, Bill. What will really work is your blood and your voice. The Gulf is far more likely to accept that this diving suit is you and take it, leaving you here free to live your life. Now hear me out - if you can cut yourself and smear the blood on your sheet, that will help tremendously. And if you call my phone, I'll set it on speakerphone, so the Gulf will hear your voice coming out of it and think it's you." At least, Graham hopes the Gulf will. Damn it. He really did like that phone.

OOC: The plan is to stuff Bill's sheets in the diving suit, to try to convince Bill to cut himself and smear some blood on the sheets, and to have Bill call Graham's phone, put it on speaker phone, and have Bill keep talking. Then Graham will drag the diving suit back up to the roof and throw it Jonah-style to the waves.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 96):

Sorry Sir.  My post didn't take and not sure how I missed that

Bill seems confused by everything that's going on.  But he does it.  Surprisingly, he lets you bleed him a bit...

Okay.  Let's go off your Voudou skill.  Make a roll on it.  And give yourself a +3 bonus.  You were pretty through on what you added to the suit.

Let's see what happens next.  Thanks

Graham's quest to discover the magic behind his family's curse has only been going for a couple of years so far. He isn't yet the experienced shaman that he'd like to see himself becoming, and he still feels like he's making things up as he goes along. He is surprised when Bill goes along with the plan, though Graham knows that a few small sacrifices are better than being drowned by the Gulf.

He prepares the diving suit with the sheets smeared with Bill's blood and Graham's iPhone. Once more, he grimaces. He really wishes he had a Bluetooth speaker. That would have been far less costly than giving up his phone. "Okay, call my number, Bill, and whatever you do, don't stop talking." Graham waits for Bill to make the call, and then Graham sets his iPhone to speaker mode, places it on top of the blankets in the suit, and closes the suit up. Then he begins dragging the suit along the floor and back up top.

OOC: Okay, bloody sheets inside, then the phone set to speaker mode on top. He'll seal the diving suit, drag it up to the roof, and lower the suit into the water.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 98):

Kind of sade when a 16 is "just making it".  Remind me to hit you up with XP

You wrestle the suit up to the roof and, after waiting for the ring and Bill's voice, pitch it over the side.

There's a loud splash.  You watch the suit sink.

Nothing seems to happen.

No. Wait.

Maybe?

Is the water level going down?

No.

Yes?

No...

Yes.  It is most certainly going down.  Rather quickly too.

As you watch, the suit begins to swell, like some kind of oddly shaped balloon.

The suit grows larger and larger as the water level drops.  It gets rotund and starts to become a ball.

Soon, the suit is larger than the store.  It seems to be straining, as if the stitching is going to come apart any second now.  But it continues to grow.

And...

Soon, there is a diving suit shaped hill, about the size of high school football stadium, leaning against the wall of the store.

YOu can hear the wall starting to groan in protest.

Graham gapes in disbelief as the diving suit swells to an unbelievable size. Is all the water somehow going inside? What the hell? How is it staying together? Is this some kind of vision, or is this really happening?

He scrambles down the ladder as fast as he can, pulling the the trapdoor behind him. "Your suit's the size of a mountain!" he yells. "Take cover!"

He looks around swiftly, searching for a place to take shelter.

OOC: Look for the safest place in the store in case the suit explodes.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 100):

The suit swells even larger.

Then it stands up.  And starts to lumber away into the forest.  Like King Kong walking off set.

Bill and you watch it go.  He looks at you.  "Was it supposed to do that?"

Anything else you want to do with the suit?  Or Bill?

If not...we will be moving on.

Thanks

"Hell if I know." Graham watches the suit walking off into the forest. He had imagined maybe a Glorp as the water had receded, carrying off the suit, but he hadn't imagined the thing becoming some kind of kaiju.

"Weird shit just seems to follow me around." Graham sighs. This had been one expensive road trip. The rear of his Civic had been bitten off, and Graham had thrown away his phone. At least he wasn't dead. Yet.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 102):

I did.  Need to go back through the thread and figure out the CP thing.

I'll give you some choices on how to proceed to Canada.  Will post tomorrow.

Thanks

In reply to Editor-in-Chief (msg # 103):

Let's go with 12 XP for this one.  Need to get back to my books to make sure I did that right.  Been a bit since I did XP for GURPS

Alrightie.  Here we go

You wake up the next morning, fairly sore.  Bill let you sleep on the old, broken sofa in his "employees lounge".  Which is really just a breakfast nook off his little cubby hole of an apartment behind the register.

He serves up some microwaved burritos and coffe.

"Mornin'!  It's a great day, isn't it?"

He obviously hasn't looked outside.  The area around the gas station looks like WWIII paid a visit.  Your car is officially totaled.

"I know you said you gotta get up the road.  But my truck's like your car.

"But we should get a trucker pullin' through.  I bet you can hitch a ride.  Where are you headed anyway?  I got a CB that still works.  I'll see if I can find someone headin' that way."

"A great day, huh?" Graham surveys the damage outside the window. The gas station looks like Katrina's uglier, nastier sister had rolled through. And his car - how did that phrase go? The Lord giveth and taketh? Graham would love to know when the giveth part of all that shit kicked in. And how the hell is Bill going to recover from this? He must have an excellent insurance policy.

"You bet, Bill. Thanks for the food." Graham sips his black coffee and considers his options. He knows Tim and Kaitlyn are in Nashville now. He had thought to check in on them before continuing the drive up to Canada, but without a car now, his options are more limited. Maybe he could take an Amtrak up to Quebec and then work his way across the continent.

"I was heading up to Nashville to see some family up there. Yeah, I'd love a ride if you can swing it." Nashville first. And it might be worth it to check in with the city's magical community.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 106):

Let me double check my notes to see where we are going.  I'll answer the post tomorrow.

Thanks

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 106):

Nashville ho.

I'd recommend making his hometown Bristol.  But that's just me.

It takes Bill a few hours, but soon a rig driven by an old guy named Gus blows his horn from the parking lot.

Bill pushes a knapsack into your hands.  "For your trouble.  Wish it was more, but best I can do.  God speed and thanks.  Thanks a bunch."

The package contains a change of clothes, $228, some sodas and water bottles, a couple of sharing size Peanut M&Ms, some wrapped up hotdogs with mustard and kraut packs, a travel size set of screwdrivers, a little silver whistle, four lollipops, four randomly flavored packets of Pop Tarts, a tin of Rainbow Sours, an orange, a Swiss Army knife, a stopwatch, a raggedy copy of A Canticle for Liebowitz, a flashlight, a ball of twine, and several unopened packages of batteries.

Gus turns out to be the talkative sort, but not invasively so.

He pulls through Antioch and stops at a gas station on Interstate 24.

"Sorry bud.  'fraid this is as far as I can take ya.  You got someone you can call from here?"

"Uh, thanks, Bill." It seems to Graham that Bill has gotten the better end of this. Graham lost a car and gave up his phone when he saved Bill's life, but at least Bill isn't leaving him completely empty-handed.  With his haversack in one hand and Bill's backpack in the other, Graham climbs into the truck.

During the ride, Graham engages in conversation with Gus and asks him about his work, what he likes about driving a truck, how long Gus is on the road, how often he gets home, what he likes to do for fun. Standard small talk. Graham avoids going into detail about his work and world but does talk a bit about New Orleans and how much he loves the city.

At the gas station, Graham disembarks and turns to thank the truck driver. "Hey, don't mention it. Thanks for the ride, Gus. I'll figure something out from here."

Now, getting his bearings, he looks around at the area. An Enterprise would be amazing right now. Or at least a Waffle House to get some grub and think about what to do next. There's always more hitchhiking.

OOC: Bristol works! I've never been up to that part of the state. I miss Tennessee, even though in college we had our own version of "Rocky Top":  "We hate Rocky Top! Go to hell, Tennessee!"

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 109):

I'm considering moving back there for retirement.  104 today in Texas and all week long is making it sound more and more attractive.

No Enterprise.  But there is an Awful Waffle on the other side of the Interstate.  There's also a McD's, a garage, and what you think is a warehouse.

Of course the truck stop is right there too.

Where to? Truck stop.  Waffle House.  McDonald's.  Garage.  Warehouse.  Or hitchike up the road

Your call at the moment

Graham reconsiders. As tempting as Waffle House is, he does have those wrapped hot dogs after all. He might as well eat them while they're still fresh. He decides to saunter over to the truck stop, get a coffee, and eat one or two of the dogs.

OOC: On second thought, he'll head to the truck stop, get a cup of black coffee, and eat two of the hot dogs.

It's 18 C here today, though we're still getting a ton of smoke from forest fires. It's been raining a lot, which isn't normal, but those fires are persistent.

A hot day here is 30 C. The tradeoff is -30 C and lower in the winter, but we have Chinook winds that thaw us out periodically, and it's often a toasty -10 C or so.

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 111):

Here is Texas, we were at 40C today.  Supposed to stay in that range and got hotter over the next two weeks.

I'd kill for some Chinook winds about now.

This place isn't quite a Bucc ee's.  But it's pretty close.  It's large enough to have a decent sized deli, several rows of coffee machines, and all kinds of aisles.

You take a seat at one of the tables in the dining area and unwrap the dogs.  They're surprisingly plump and juicy.  As you sip on your Joe and nosh on your dogs, you can hear a couple of truckers a few seats away talking.

"I'm tellin' you!  Not makin' it up.  Swear it was as real as your fat ass sittin' in the chair across from me.  A blue cow.  It was standing by the side of the road.  And after I blew by it, it started running after me!  And it caught up to me!  It was just runnin' along me, down the damn interstate!  I was doin' 80 man!"

"You didn' tell this story to your dispatch didja?"

"Look.  You know me Bill. I'm not the kind to hop up on too many White Crosses.  I. Saw. It.  Blue Cow.  Standin' right beside the fuckin' Interstate."

"Sure sure."

There are several people with cell phones around.

There's something about a gas-station hot dog when you're hungry. Sure, it's packed full of preservatives, and it's about as nutritious as a cup of ramen, but there's just something so satisfying about eating one, especially if you have plenty of relish to slather on. At least it has some protein.

Graham would be scrolling through Tik Tok right now, but the Gulf has his phone now, and Graham suspects he isn't getting it back. But what he hears sounds more interesting than most of the mundane world's posting would be right now.

"A blue cow, you say?" Graham inserts himself into the conversation from several tables a way. "Like Babe, Paul Bunyan's blue ox? And running as fast as you were driving? That's damn interesting." He takes a swig of his coffee. "Whereabouts did you see it?" There probably isn't much money in chasing down wild cow tales, but Graham's interest is piqued.

OOC: It wasn't being chased by dozens of rat creatures, was it?

In reply to Graham Snow (msg # 113):

Stupid, stupid rat creatures.

The truckers blink at you, obviously surprised you did insert yourself.

But the one who was talking eventually nods.  "I didn' even think about Paul Bunyan.  Wasn't that ox named Babe or somethin'?  But no.  It wasn't that big.  Looked like a normal cow.  'cept it was blue and could run like Jesse Owens.

"I saw it on 24.  'tween Clarkesville and Pleasant View.  Not quite sure what mile marker.  You believe me bud?"