Log:Rumble on the Road
It is just past dawn when the convoy starts assembling. Rumor is they hope to bring home a lot of loot, so the bus and a number of the larger vehicles are mixed in with the charriots. The savvies have been settled in the bus with Monitor guards. The War Kids are out in force. The Anchor Man is not at the wheel of his chariot though, but has uncharacteristically taken a gunner's slot in Rebar's lighter chariot.
With the War Kids flanking the Wagon in their own combat vehicles, Locke, like the rest of the Monitors remains in the bus to protect their non-combatants. As usual, he remains standing near one of the windows, his arm strapped up to secure him to the interior wall in case all hell breaks loose. In hand, he holds an AR-15, though he has a rifle strapped to his back as well. There's also that hunting knife at his boot and more than likely, he's packing a few pistols on his person. While these treks out into the wasteland can sometimes be relaxing, zoning out at the miles and miles of dust all around them, just the idea that they could be attacked at any moment leaves Locke in this constant tense state.
The Imperator of Arm, Vishys, is out in all his regalia, mask up, and looking like an avenging zombie armed to the teeth and hungry for a good scrap. His stapled together skeletal grin hidden, but it's in his tone when he tells the warkids on his wagon, and mostly for Locke's benefit, "Eyes sharp. This is where we found the fun starts." Turning to the other wagons there is a series of short exacting signs to signal a ready and to start looking for snipers starting now.
KissThisThen is rarely very talkative, and even less so when he is cooped up with other Savvy. He has a hook-ended farming implement with him - a billhook on a long pole, which can be used for all sorts of things. Climbing into Savvy treehouses, pruning, redirecting, levering up interesting rocks, and hitting people in the face. Aside from that he is hidden in a heavy cloak and sitting silently against the wall of the bus, wincing at every jolt. Joint issues and desert driving do not mix well.
Exo is double checking weapons. As if he didn't nitpick over the guns, ammo, blades, spears and assorted blunt weapons before they left. This time, he goes scurries about, peeking and peering and poking the blades to check their edge. Satisfied, the Centurion takes his place keeping watch over his assigned patch of horizon. Goggles down, mask up, dark skin planted bone white. His short stock of dreads and darkened eyes make a sharp contrast.
Lynch is dressed to drive. Sure, she can shoot sometimes when she gotta, but mostly, she's here to drive. With her mask on and her chariot at the ready, she awaits the Imperator's signals. That heap of metal she calls a chariot lives up to its name, reinforced and with multiple positions for passengers to fire from. She's got this serene calm about her for her own part. Tense and eager at hte potential for a scrap, but calm in the face of it all the same. Whatever will happen will happen. When Vishys is making her signals, the engine revs in reply. She's got herself on the lookout. Mostly, it's all dust.
Faustina is on the bus. She's seated, but near one of the windows which can be opened as a gun port and through which she can see. As with the other Monitors, she is loaded for bear with several guns and extra ammo as well as a knife. On this trip, her eyes are glued to the dunes, watching for attack.
Mark is towards the back of the bus, also seated, but with a variety of weapons to hand and near one of the windows from which one can shoot. He's somewhat less on alert, mostly watching the other people in the bus, though he occasionally glances out the window towards the chariots and rigs riding with them.
Kitten rides a gunner's seat on Lynch's rig, since Anchor Man took their spot on Rebar's rig. They're powdered white, with streaks of the powder in their dark ponytails, too. Shadows have been dusted on their skin around their eyes and in the hollow of their cheeks to give themselves a skeletal appearance. On their brow is a pair of goggles. They're wearing leather trousers and stompy boots, chest bare. At their belt is a pipe wrench with 'Kitten' scratched in the rust and tarnish. They stand at their position with a machine gun, and nearby is another gun meant to throw a net. There's a pistol at the small of their back, and they've got a mask over their nose and mouth.
Rebar's riding light today, with Anchor and a War Girl with a shaved head, stick thin and on her last legs. She's got a flamethrower, though. She's ready for Valhalla. So is Rebar, from the look of him, pale and determined. Kitten has been working on his engine, and the word 'explode' has been tossed around.
The signal comes to pull out. The storm has made the familiar road out this way look unfamiliar. Dun have been rearranged, rock formations have been hidden or exposed. Bits of debris lie in unexpected places, but the road looks clear. Problem is, it's hard to tell where the likely ambush spots might be, even with the advance scouting since the storm.
Pebble the Scavenger is sitting up front in the bus with the driver to tell her when to turn off road toward the find. Long greasy hair is in a pony tail, her left arm is in a sling. She looks to be in her late teens and generally bruised and ragged. The Latest Timmy is sitting near KissThisThen in case a chemist is wanted. She has a big knife at her waist, and a kerchief over her nose and mouth. The Anchor Man is powdered white too, mustache waxed, and helmet gleaming over a fresh shaved scalp. He scans the dunes, looking for trouble.
It is long hot hour before anything is spotted.
ROLL: Locke rolls brains+1 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 6 2 1 3 7 -- d8)
ROLL: Kitten rolls brains for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 2 3 6 1 -- d6)
ROLL: Exo rolls 4d6 for: : x1 : x1 : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 5 4 5 2 -- d6)
ROLL: Vishys rolls brains-1 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 7 6 1 -- d8)
ROLL: Lynch rolls brains+1 for: : x3 (Set) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 3 (Raw: 3 1 1 2 1 -- d6)
ROLL: Faustina rolls brains+1 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 6 3 4 4 6 -- d6)
ROLL: Faustina rolls 5d10 for: : x3 (Set) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 3 (Raw: 3 10 7 3 3 -- d10)
ROLL: KissThisThen rolls brains+1 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 6 3 5 5 6 -- d6)
Exo whistles, loud and sharp. "Oi! My patch of horizon's kickin' up dust!" He whistles again and repeats himself, loud as he can. "Ya copy?!" At the same time, he's settling in at his gunner's position. Ready and waiting.
ROLL: Kitten rolls 1d8 for: : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 2 -- d8)
ROLL: Kitten rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 5 7 4 1 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 1d10 for: : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 9 -- d10)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 1d6+1 for: : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 1 -- d6+1)
Mark happens to be looking out the window when he spots something. "That up there. Something's not right. Too many tracks going the wrong way. Might be an ambush."
Faustina's gaze is drawn to the same spot and she rolls up to rest one knee on the seat and brace herself, getting into position to fire. "Get ready for attack. Savvy, get down."
ROLL: Anchor rolls 5d6 for: : x1 : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 5 4 6 5 1 -- d6)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d10 for: : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 4 4 5 5 -- d10)
Rebar can barely see the horizon through his squinting, let alone the details on it. Fortunately, he's more or less following the other rigs. "Keep an eye out," he says to his crew. "If you don't want to blow up, get off now." No one bails, though.
Kitten wipes dust off their goggles, and their pigtails flutter behind them as the chariot rumbles on. "What?" they bellow toward Exo. They adjust their grip on the big gun.
KissThisThen looks up at the whistle Exo comes up with - he cannot hear the words, but he ends up looking forward regardless, leaning back and pulling back his hood. He has a coarse scarf pulled up over his mouth to keep out as much radioactive dust as possible. His eyes narrow, and he rolls his stiff shoulders back, fighting against their immobility as he rises and stands in the bus, hanging onto a metal bar. When Faustina speaks, he turns to look to Timmy "What did she say?" the hard of hearing man asks the chemist.
"Yeah I'm seein' it. Somethin' up ahead. Keep sharp, Kitten," Lynch mutters in a low tone. More vocally she makes a noise of agreement as the response to Exo's question. Despite her mask, she can see just fine and the sight and chatter of others who have seen what she's seen keeps her just staying in her place in the convoy's formation.
All that Locke can see is dust upon dust, the wind blowing a heavy gust of it as they drive along the sands. From his angle, at least, he doesn't notice the tracks, but Mark's warning is enough to straighten his posture, following the other Monitor's gaze in an attempt to see what the Keeper sees. He has no doubts in his mind that something is up and even if there is no ambush, it's always a good idea to remain vigilant. He echoes Faustina's words, "Lay low and hold on tight. If we're lucky, it's nothing. /If/." He repeats that particular word. He raises his own weapon, leaning against the interior wall to brace himself and steady his aim.
In spite of his mask Vishys still only has one fucking eye. He doesn't see shit on his blind side and has people, in fact for this. Gloved hand thumps the roof and informs Lynch, "Right, on your mark then." The fennec is pulled from off his shoulder and tucked into one of the seats. There's a smacking clicky sound he makes communicating with Sprocket to stay. put. That means there. Right there. He keeps an ear out for changes in tone though knowing she's going to act up when the weather shift, if it does and until then holds his fire. He relays back to Kit and to Exo and the others to hold on fire for now. "Wait for a viable target. Save the ammo until one of these buzzards pops up."
The Anchor Man squints and swivels his gun in the ame direction Exo indicates, smiling a terrible smile. He glances at the other gunner, giving her a nod, then focuses back that way.
Pebble may not be a savvy, but she drops flat. Timmy's eyes go wide. She yells into the Reaper's ear, "That's not good! Drop!" She tries to pull KissThisThen down with her, coughing sporadically.
The caravan rumbles forward. Sharp eyes will notice dark spots and dust approaching from the other direction. Sharper eyes will see glints of metal as the first shots are about to be fired towards the lead chariots of the sanctuary caravan, as the outriders approach the curve.
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d6 for: : x3 (Set) : x1 -- Match Value: 3 (Raw: 2 2 2 4 -- d6)
ROLL: Locke rolls finesse+2 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 2 6 5 3 3 4 -- d6)
ROLL: Faustina rolls finesse for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 3 6 2 3 -- d8)
ROLL: Faustina rolls 5d8 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 5 5 7 1 6 -- d8)
ROLL: Vishys rolls finesse+1 for: : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 6 4 5 4 5 -- d6)
ROLL: Kitten rolls finesse for: : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 2 5 6 2 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 5 8 7 2 -- d8)
Exo starts a mad cackle as the sun glints of metal in the distant. "You all can't leave well 'nuff alone." He moves from his mid-range gun to one of the heavier gun. "If ya know what's good for ya, you'll steer clear of my openin' salvo!" A beat passes. "Don't drive in, I mean!" He lets out whistle, this one more harsh. "Don't meet'em yet!"
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x1 : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 5 2 7 7 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 4 6 8 4 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 4 5 1 3 -- d8)
Pulling KissThisThen down is easy - he is not the most physically ept creature in creation, or even in the top several thousand. He sprawls on the floor, winces, then rolls to one side, half under the seats, holding his billhook with him. He stays quiet, though, only his dark eyes visible in the gap between hood and scarf.
ROLL: Anchor rolls 1d6 for: : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 5 -- d6)
Viewing the raider cars hauling out from the dust in the distance, Locke takes a brief moment to count heads and positioning before ducking away to stand just to the side of the window as he mentally prepares the timing of his shots. Hearing the few pinging sounds of incoming bullets striking metal, he swerves out to open fire at the nearest vehicle, setting his aim at one of the gunmen there, hoping to take the guy out. Or cause enough distraction that they need to take cover rather retaliating immediately.
KAKKAKKAKKAKKAK! Kitten gets off a few shots. "AHAHAHAHA! DIE!" Kitten bellows, just like the delicate princess they are. It's a short burst. No need to waste ammo. One of the bullets grazes one of the ambushers.
Rebar angles his vehicle to give his crew a good shot. He grips the wheel tightly, with a look of grim determination. He holds back, though.
Faustina's shot is slightly thrown off by trying to get into a steady shooting position on the moving bus, but she does manage to wing one of the ambushers, even though she's frowning as she tries to find a better position. Mark's slightly slower shot echoes hers, though, and manages to kill the one Faustina had injured. And then he's looking for his next target, eyes scanning for the next glint of metal.
Vishys lays in wait. As soon as the gunfire hits he levels his weapon and shushes it as if trying to keep it patient. Kit's rifle gets a few short bursts as there's the light off the scope and the Imperator fires that one shot he's waiting on and there's jsut a loud POK! and then a flailing of limbs in the horizon. Swiveling he tries to take the snap shot at the other but no such luck. Thankfully someone else lit them up.
Anchor swivels the big gun away from the approaching targets towards the ambushers on the right and lets fly with devastating accuracy. The head he is aiming at disappears in a mist of blood and bone and tissue, but not before the sniper snaps off a shot at the dying gunner on the top of Rebar's chariot. The other snipers drop below the ridge line.
The dust resolves into a chariot with two gunners and a small truck with a couple of roof gunners and spikes. The pounding of bass can be heard as they let fly.
ROLL: Exo rolls 4d6+1+1-1 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 4 5 3 6 -- d6+1+1-1)
ROLL: Exo rolls 4d6 +1+1-1 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 2 3 6 5 -- d6 +1+1-1)
ROLL: Exo rolls 4d6+1 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 4 5 1 2 -- d6+1)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d6 for: : x3 (Set) : x1 -- Match Value: 3 (Raw: 1 2 1 1 -- d6)
ROLL: Exo rolls 1d6 for: : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 4 -- d6)
ROLL: Kitten rolls finesse for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 1 3 5 6 -- d8)
ROLL: Faustina rolls finesse+1 for: : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 3 1 7 1 2 -- d8)
ROLL: Locke rolls finesse+2 for: : x4 (Set) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 4 (Raw: 2 2 2 3 4 2 -- d6)
ROLL: Faustina rolls 5d8 for: : x3 (Set) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 3 (Raw: 6 1 1 8 1 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 2 2 7 7 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 5 8 1 2 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 2 4 8 2 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x1 : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 4 1 7 7 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 2 2 7 7 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 3 6 7 3 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 4 1 8 4 -- d8)
ROLL: KissThisThen rolls brains for: : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 1 1 6 6 -- d6)
ROLL: Kitten rolls 5d6 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 3 2 4 3 5 -- d6)
ROLL: Exo rolls 1d6 for: : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 4 -- d6)
ROLL: KissThisThen rolls finesse for: : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 7 2 2 5 -- d8)
ROLL: Lynch rolls finesse+2 for: : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 3 (Raw: 4 4 8 8 10 10 -- d10)
Faustina zeroes in on the Chariot, and again manages to injure, though not kill one of the gunners. She makes a slightly frustrated sound, but the huffs out a relieved breath as Mark's shot manages to hit the other gunner such that his falling body hits the injured one off the chariot to die on the sand.
There's a grim kind of chuckle from Lynch herself at Kitten's princess like screaming. She doesn't look at them, of course. She's got to concentrate on what she's doing. And that's driving. She goes where she's meant to, the vehicle as agile as can be under her guidance. She seems to be in the right spot, allowing the gunners to get of some of the best shots they can line up while suddenly being simply somewhere else when return fire comes. When she's behind the wheel, she's invincible.
ROLL: Vishys rolls finesse+2 for: : x3 (Set) : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 3 (Raw: 1 1 1 5 2 3 -- d6)
With this play of whack o' mole in a hail of bullets, Locke's stance widens as he moves the muzzle of his gun from the side of the chariot to focus primarily towards its cab where the driver can be found. With Faustina and Mark homing in on the gunners up top, Locke is free to open fire, sending off a barrage of bullets to blast at the Raider, forcing him to swerve the chariot dangerously before being shredded by the incoming slugs. "Careful, wild chariot!" He calls out a warning, though he expects the vehicle to power down at any moment or go crashing into one of the other vehicles or rock formations.
ROLL: Anchor rolls 1d6 for: : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 4 -- d6)
Vishys didn't get that other shot. Some like running in with a hail of brass. The former bullet farmer, however, waits for it trusting Lynch to put them in a spot they can take advantage of. The retaliation on them is swift and the sweet serenade of high impact metal on metal is a chorus the almighty engines get revved over. Glorious! Due to the smart evasion at the wheel they aren't taking bullets on their broadside forcing him to spend the better part of a good steady shot worrying about pulling it off and instead worries only where that bullet is going to go; between the damn eyes of that truck's driver busting windshield glass, goggles, skin, skull, brain, bone, the seat behind and embedding itself in the wall of the cab. There's a grin that alights his live eye and he crows looking for the next target. "THERE is one more dirty treat for the long road!"
Speaking of dirty, the Reaper shields his eyes and stares into the kicked up cloud of dust behind the friendly vehicles, then yanks down his scarf and hollers at the top of his voice "Comptroller, Centurions, we're being attacked from behind - we're in a pincer trap!" He then flings himself against the more protective walls of the vehicle to reduce his silhouette through the window.
KAKKAKKAK! Kitten fires, but the dead driver jerks the wheel in his death throes and Kitten's target is pulled aside at a critical moment. "FOR THE V8!" Kitten calls out, then utters an incoherent cry of gleeful rage. Someone is in their happy place.
Rebar pulls off to the side to flank the truck, giving his crew a shot. The War Girl got winged by a bullet, and it throws her shot off.
An extra chariot bursts from behind the dunes, taking a good shot at rear guard chariot gunner, but not killing her. Loud cursing erupts from the rear of the sanctuary caravan.
The Anchor Man strafes the top of the truck, bellowing, "Die Dirt Lickers! For the V8!" He curses as his arm is grazed by the guy riding shotgun.
The Chariot gunner's squeeze off a few shots, but they go wide as the Monitors take them out and the turbo tank explodes with a boom when the dying driver swerves into a cement boulder.
The Truck swerves out of control as the driver slumps and the passenger grabs frantically towards the wheel. It is now hurtling ram first towards the savvy transport bus with a dead man's foot on the pedal
ROLL: Exo rolls 6d6 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 1 3 2 6 6 5 -- d6)
ROLL: Kitten rolls 1d6+1 for: : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 5 -- d6+1)
ROLL: Kitten rolls 5d6 for: : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 2 2 1 1 5 -- d6)
ROLL: Lynch rolls finesse+2 for: : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 10 2 9 2 4 9 -- d10)
ROLL: Kitten rolls finesse for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 6 2 5 7 -- d8)
ROLL: Locke rolls finesse+2 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 4 6 3 3 4 1 -- d6)
ROLL: Vishys rolls finesse+1 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 1 2 6 2 5 -- d6)
ROLL: Faustina rolls finesse+! for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 3 8 2 7 -- d8)
ROLL: Faustina rolls finesse+1 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 5 3 5 3 1 -- d8)
ROLL: Faustina rolls 5d8 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 8 7 1 8 5 -- d8)
Exo shot the large caliber gun wide at first. "Me-di-or-ce!" He sing-songs as he loads a second shell. By then, the damn truck is coming right for them. His aim is fast and true. He blows a shell at the side, low. The intent is to swerve the truck, knock it down. It swerves though, Exo is lucky. For once.
ROLL: Vishys rolls 1d6 for: : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 2 -- d6)
Rebar reaches beside him and pulls up a can of chrome-colored paint. "Witness me!" he calls out, and he sprays his teeth with the stuff. Then he gives the can to the War Girl, who's barely hanging on as she bleeds. She takes the can in her one good arm. Her voice is quieter, but she also cries out, "Witness!" She sprays her teeth and tosses the can up to Anchor. Rebar brings his vehicle around, and he bears down on the truck. The War Girl fires off her flamethrower. Rebar hits a button and flames shoot out the sides of the chariot. It's a fireball hurtling toward the truck, and on contact, it explodes.
Kitten yells, "WITNESS!" And perhaps they're so intent on witnessing Rebar, that that's why their tat-tat-tat of gunfire doesn't hit anyone.
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d6 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 2 1 2 6 -- d6)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x1 : x1 : x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 5 3 8 2 -- d8)
"For the V8." Lynch echoes after Kitten, though her voice is softer. Reverent, even. Rather than the cry of glee heard from her vehicle. Quick as a flash she's bringing her chariot around for another pass, weaving in and out, keeping close to that truck and still protecting her people. When the truck goes up, she's quick as you please peeling away from it, wheels spinning up the dust of the wasteland. Already she's prepping to come around and take stock of the situation to determine where best to go next.
Faustina shifts to aim towards the rear at KTT's call, trusting the others to finish off the truck. And this time her shot is good, taking out the gunner on top of the other vehicle. Mark was aiming for the driver, but the sound of the explosion makes him jump just a little and, while he hits the vehicle, it's only to injure.
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 5 8 5 4 -- d8)
ROLL: Anchor rolls 4d8 for: : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 6 8 3 6 -- d8)
Vishys calls back to KTT with his amusement not fading, but also not looking, "Good! Then we can fire in any direction we want." And it seems to be true because when that trust lost its driver? That's one. When the passenger has to stop shooting to grab the wheel? That's two good things. When they have to lean into the path of where you just shot? well that's three great things Vishys is not missing out on and pulls that trigger again causing the proxy driver's skull to rupture painting the inside of the truck's cabin and causing them to slump and pull the wheel exposing it and starting to pull it into a better position for the engine to get laid into by others. "TAKE IT DOWN!" What a fucking rush. A half-life doesn't get much better than this... until the looting starts.
When the Savvy warns them that this was a trap, aside from the ambush that they were heading into, Locke lowers his AR-15 rifle and is about to trudge his way through the cowering scientists to take up a spot towards the back of the bus to open fire on the new threat. As he turns, however, he notices that the truck was heading right for them at full speed. "Shit..." He practically spits out, scrambling to get back into position again, his frame leaning against the wall at the side of the window.
Dark, piercing eyes notice that at least one of the War Kid's vehicles was heading in that direction, but what if that plan doesn't work? Not taking any chances, he sets up shop and sends forth a rapid fire of bullets, first aimed at the driver, then deciding to go lower and take the engine out to shut the thing down just as another car rams it out of its current path. It's a magnificent scene of carnage and destruction which ends in a loud explosion of smoke and fire. The Monitor can finally breathe, content for the moment, that nothing was crashing into their bus today.
The Anchor Man is reaching for the can when the explosion knocks him back and he goes flying. His head cracks into another bit of ragged concrete, and he lies still, slumped against it.
The transport bus swerves around the fiery collision knocking everyone inside around, but heading out into the relative straight and flat past the curve. Timmy can be heard quietly cursing in the back. Pebble is muttering softly to herself and hanging on as best she can as her legs smash into the back of the driver's seat.
The last chariot drives off into the dunes as fast as it can go, it's gunner dead and most of the ambush dead or on fire. A motorcycle joins it, a bloody survivor of the scouting group turned sniper squad trying to catch up her mate.
Faustina continues scanning the dunes, looking for any other attackers, but calls. "I think the remainder are fleeing. We should check for survivors and loot what remains of their vehicles." Mark is looking around the bus. "Anyone in here hurt in the jostling?"
"Shiny and chrome!" Kitten bellows as the chariot (whose engine they worked so hard on) does exactly what it's supposed to (explode). "Glorious! They walk in Valhalla!" They pump their fists in the air. Rebar was their friend, and there is nothing but joy in Kitten's regard for his fiery demise.
When the fiery explosion sends the bus into a swerve to avoid that mess, Locke's grip on the leather strap tightens, his rifle lowered as he works to brace himself from being flung around within the vehicle even if a few others who aren't so lucky, come colliding into him. That's life. Quickly, he turns to look towards one of the windows behind them to see whether the ambush chariot was still on their tail. From what he can see, the other Monitors had made quick work with that one and for now they seem to be alone having dispatched the Raiding party.
Before the wagon even comes to a stop, he straightens himself up to look on the gathered, "Is anyone in need of medical attention?" He even checks himself when he asks this. In the heat of battle, there are times where you don't even register getting shot.
To Faustina's suggestion, he nods. "We're going to have to investigate what damage we'd taken. Check on our casualties." Slowly, turning back towards the window now, he murmurs, "Let's hope that the destruction of their cars is enough to deter anyone else who might be thinking to jump us."
Vishys lets them leave and holds his hands above his head, fingers interlocked and head bowed at the glorious explosion taking one of their own. Hands raised. It's for a moment as he and the others echo in "TO VALHALLA!" It's a good sign really, the blessed machine favors them today clearly. His arm goes out and he makes a few clicks and from under a seat Sprocket comes bolting, up over the ammo box and up the Imperator's sleeve and onto his shoulder. "After we check casualties we go looking for us any Hullos hey left behind." Traps. It's not beyond looters to leave things in their wake to avoid being chased." That's primarily out there for the drivers, but any overeager souls as well. He looks the Monitor over, then the savvy. There's a slow approving nod. Inventory in tact. So far... good!
"Sometimes..." Exo begins as he dismounts the heavy gun. "Livin' is just as good as dyin'." The kid is officially on fumes. He finds a spot to collapse, under a seat. Nap time for this War Kid.
ROLL: Vishys rolls brains+1 for: : x1 : x1 : x2 (Pair) : x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 6 3 8 1 6 -- d8)
ROLL: Vishys rolls 5d6 for: : x1 : x1 : x3 (Set) -- Match Value: 3 (Raw: 1 3 3 3 2 -- d6)
One of the rear chariot gunners needs a good bandaging, but can continue after. The Anchor Man is unconscious and singed, but most definitely still breathing. His helmet has a new dent though.
The Timmy calls, "We're bruised, but not broken!" Pebble is peering into her arm sling. "I'm bleeding a little, but I can manage." She scrambles up into her seat and peers worriedly out of the front of the bus.
Ammo and weapons can be scavenged from the dead snipers, along with canteens and some rations. They are definitely scavengers, but not ones known in Sanctuary. That truck is a flaming ball of death. Sundries can be scavenged from the downed chariot. It'd take a couple hours to properly take things like tires and undamaged parts. The fuel fire rendered it undriveable as several key bits including the engine are smoking ruins. There is no sign of dust on the horizon except from the escapees. There is a second motorcycle in descent condition with a sidecar.
Mark gets Anchor Man back to the bus and gets one of the healing hands who's along on the trip to look him over, then goes back to playing silent guard.
Vishys turns to Timmy, "You're doin fine, mate. Little further." He looks to Pebble whom he and Charlie traveled with. T here's a concern there , goggles sliding up. At her assurance there's a slow nod. "Alright then." He wades out to where that second bike is. It seems fine, but everything always does. Scooping the fennec off his shoulder Vishys drops her down and points ahead to where they're going. "There." A different set of clicks shared with her and the sand burrower scampers over.
The Imperator is not even there yet before her ears are laid back and there's a high pitched growling yip at the bike. He calls back, "It's live." Reacking into his boot he pulls out a couple of tools on hand, nothing fancy. Getting closer he issues one word in question to the fox to see where she is sniffing at and pets her. "Gooood girl. Let's see what we got us." Crouching down he looks for it and, yeah there it is. This is going to be a few minutes or? Well it won't be their problem anymore. Nimble fingers slowly work to undo the explosive charge set up in the bike and see if he can rescue it for later purpose. These are the quartermaster's most favorite toys. Is he whistling while he's working? Yes, yes he is. The explosives come out over the casing, and the fox gets up on hsi shoulder with a tap there for her to jump up. He drops the explosives (gently) into teh side car and gives it a test start.
With a BRUMMMMBLE it res up and, better, does not explode and kill them all. Joy of joys.