IC - UtVoV - Killing Kiddaw

[tibbius]

Foulqueret kicks the bench over and uses it as cover from which to fire at one of the pistol boys.

Mercury Revolver: [1d20+3]=1+3=4, dmg: [1d8]=1

oh dear.

Foulqueret drops his revolver, which splatters into many beads of toxic liquid metal.

... he fails to get a grip on the slippery synth.

... one of them hits the guy trying to grab F ...

... and that guy groans, spasms, and falls still.

"Shit." says the other gunman.

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret drops their prismatic body low and runs towards the other gunner, dodging beneath stools and tables, looking like they intend to ram into the man's shins. They are hoping the man will try to kick or block them, however, because the little synth doesn't need to charge into him—he only needs to bring the small silver needle in his hand into contact with the gunner's flesh.

I'm not sure if this would be a STR or DEX or even EGO roll since it's all a bluff, so here's the straight 20: Mystery roll: [1d20]=15

[tibbius]

Foulqueret drops their prismatic body low and runs towards the other gunner, dodging beneath stools and tables, looking like they intend to ram into the man's shins. They are hoping the man will try to kick or block them, however, because the little synth doesn't need to charge into him—he only needs to bring the small silver needle in his hand into contact with the gunner's flesh.

I'm not sure if this would be a STR or DEX or even EGO roll since it's all a bluff, so here's the straight 20: Mystery roll: [1d20]=15

The big man holding the pistol and staring in shock at his suddenly defunct buddy shrieks in absolute pain, and falls to the dingy carpeted floor, a bare moment after Foulqueret's needle rips through his fashionable grey leggings and grazes against his skin.

The other guy with a gun is similarly standing slack jawed and doesn't immediately react to F's movements.

What does F do now?

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret stands of the writing chest of the fallen gunner, amplifies his voice, and bellows at the large man, "I am the bringer of pain, you weeping gutbag! My agonies shall wrack your primitive ganglia! Come! Embrace excruciation!"

Intimidate: [1d20+2]=17+2=19

His prism body throbs with ominous scarlet hues, and his polyhedral head spins wildly!

[tibbius]

Foulqueret stands of the writing chest of the fallen gunner, amplifies his voice, and bellows at the large man, "I am the bringer of pain, you weeping gutbag! My agonies shall wrack your primitive ganglia! Come! Embrace excruciation!"

Intimidate: [1d20+2]=17+2=19

His prism body throbs with ominous scarlet hues, and his polyhedral head spins wildly!

Regrettably, this last desperate bullet strikes Kiddaw in the abdomen. The handsome true-kin gasps again and groans in mortal agony.

The gunman turns and flees the scene.

Foulqueret stands surrounded by bodies: Kiddaw; two gunmen; Chones.

What does he do? Where is the counter girl?

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret leaps over to where Kiddaw lies. "Chones, how dire is your need for medical attention? I am inclined to prioritize the stabilization of our information source."

Medical attention: [1d20]=9 + relevant stat + whatever Healing Mutation does


"Kiddaw, I am attempting to staunch your wounds. Tell me, how do we find the cell we are looking for? How do cells exchange information?"

[tibbius]

"Kiddaw, I am attempting to staunch your wounds. Tell me, how do we find the cell we are looking for? How do cells exchange information?"

Kiddaw groans again, and his eyes focus on Foulqueret. "Those bastards shot me," he says weakly. Meanwhile, F's glowing appendages dispense nanobots into the hole that Kiddaw's erstwhile buddy plugged through his abdomen. The pulsing of blood from the wound ceases. F feels a wave of disorientation as more nanobots separate from his body and enter Kiddaw to continue the patch job. Some will take up the function of blood cells and plasma. Others will attempt to intuit how the organs were arranged before their disarraiment by the bullet. Yet others will struggle, if the foreign object remains in the flesh, to pop it out where it belongs.

"... what were you asking me?" Kiddaw adds feebly as he makes a brief visit back to consciousness.

[Urson]

Chones
I'm good. Just rang my bell pretty hard. I'll be OK. Chones sits up, slightly crosseyed, with that non-functioning third eye rolling around as if loose.
URV returns to Chones' horn, grooming blood from its feathers and claws.

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret checks Kiddaw's biosigns. "He is stable enough to move. Let's take him to a more controlled environment for the remainder of our conversation. Before any other interested parties arrive."

[Urson]

Chones
Chones stands up, swaying for a moment, then helps Kiddaw to his feet. Lead on, boss.

[tibbius]

to what controlled environment do you proceed?

[Pulpatoon]

May I attempt a roll to see if I know a suitable place nearby?

Local Knowledge/Contacts [1d20]=18 +PSY? +EGO?

Assuming that's sufficient:

Foulqueret scoops up beads of mercury, forming them into a ball the size of an apple, which they tuck somewhere under their cloak. "Follow me."

The little synth takes them through winding alleys and underways, into a nearly abandoned industrial sector that smells of rust and ozone. They end up in a large space that was once some manner of foundry, long shut down, although there are signs of recent gatherings. Stacks of yellowed literature claiming to decode the will of the Titans slump in various corners. "A social group I belong to meets here for, um, observances."

Does Foulqueret think the mercury revolver is repairable?

[tibbius]

Does Foulqueret think the mercury revolver is repairable?

A mid-size lizard scurries across the cracked floor of the foundry, flicking its tongue at Foulqueret and Chones and Kiddaw. Kiddaw grunts something. You had to half-drag him to get him here, he is stumbling and incoherent, eyes staring blankly and glazed. His face is pale, skin clammy. Ambulatory shock. What are you going to do with this dead man walking?

It's ready to be reformed whenever.

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret: "Chones, I think he needs some manner of stimulant to return him to conversational capacity. Do you have any recommendations on procuring such an item?"

[Urson]

Chones
Hold on a sec, F. I been this way a couple of times... Lemme think what Doc Brown did...Don't give him anything to drink until he's got his brains together again.
He has Kiddaw lie down on a flat, dry spot, then elevates his feet and starts First Aid on the man's wounds.

[tibbius]

There's not a lot of aid to be done. A surgeon would be needed to extract the bullet and repair the innards, the wound has shriveled to a puckered hole from which dark blood oozes. Kiddaw is pale, sweaty, cold-skinned, vaguely conscious. You might have a few minutes or a few hours with him, if you don't get him to real treatment - or get real treatment to him.

Gnomon is not a very well organized city ...

gnomon.png (365.75 KiB) Viewed 264 times

... you're near the Crimson Court, there is a Hegemonic hospital near the Noonfort, you would need to convey Kiddaw a couple of miles through the crowded, dirty streets. Or go there and persuade a doctor to come back into this horrible neighborhood.

[tibbius]

"Wa-ater," Kiddaw mutters distractedly.

You have a few cups left in your wallets. Somewhere nearby there must be a dispenser where you could give a militiaman the fragmentary tokens and receive some of the quenching liquid.

I decided to switch from "scraps" to "cups" for the small change

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret: "Yes, yes, your hydrostatsis is out of equilibrium after losing so much fluid. We'll get you water, and medical attention, too. As soon as you answer our questions. How do we identify and contact the Friends cell we're looking for?"

[tibbius]

"We useta ... meet ... at the ... Bra-ass Balls." Kiddaw is so not with you right now. His voice is a little singy-songy. He giggles. "They shooooot up! ... the place." He sighs, and starts to say a thing, and then doesn't. His eyes waver.

[Pulpatoon]

"Oh dear. We may have brought a little too much attention to ourselves at the Brass Balls," muses Foulqueret. To Kiddaw, "Where else? If there's heat on the Brass Balls, where's the backup?"