d20 Apocalypse: Vault 52 (Updated 10-25)
Pardon my absence, but I wanted to say how much I was still enjoying the series. Is there any chance we could see a RG on the players? As much as I love the story, I like seeing the "behind the scenes" stuff as well..
Keep up the great work and I hope somebody kept that sniper rifle, those babies are handy...
Keep up the great work and I hope somebody kept that sniper rifle, those babies are handy...
Falkus
Explorer
The rifle that the late Daniel Brown turned out to be a scoped Winchester 94. It's seen a bit of use since the team proved the NRA right, and pried it from his cold, dead hands. I hope to have the last session up online later tonight, which will result in everything up until our session tommorow being online.
Oh, and I'll see about getting those character sheets up online.
Oh, and I'll see about getting those character sheets up online.
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Falkus
Explorer
“Well boys, if I had a dozen men like you, I would never have to worry about raiders ever again,” Trader shouted, as the security team prepared to return to the vault. He tossed a bag at them.
“There you go, six hundred caps, a hundred for each of you. A full trips pay. And there’s more if you want to sign on,” he added. “I could use some guards as handy as you.”
Hef caught the bag, and conferred with his friends. The offer was tempting, but they had a duty to the vault.
“Sorry,” Hef shouted back. “But we’ve got some business of our own to take care of. How long are you going to be here?”
“I’m leavin’ tonight, don’t want to stick around, in case there’s more raiders in the woods.”
“Well then, we can’t join up. We’ve got to take a few days to deal with some business of our own,” Gunther explained, shrugging.
“Sorry to hear that, lads. If you ever get to Denver, look me up. I’ll be there for a few weeks.”
And so they parted ways, the team returning to the vault to file their report.
Four days later
The wounded had been healed, thanks to the Vault’s autodoc, and the tender cares of the medical team, when the active team was called back to the briefing room again.
Only half the team was active; Hef, Grey and Gunther. Larif, Beef and Quinn were taking some R&R.
Unusually, it was one of the members of the Vault council who was waiting to brief them, instead of Helena. He was an older man, in his early fifties, with gray hair and a growing bald spot.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said, simply, as the team came in and sat down.
“What else is new?” said Gunther.
“One of our patrols disappeared five days ago, about four miles to the south-west,” the councilor stated, ignoring the chatter and going right into the briefing. “We couldn’t find out what happened to them. Yesterday, Security Chief Helena Pares took another guard, Jonathon Demal, with her, checked out a couple of assault rifles, and went looking for them. They haven’t reported in. We’re sending you out to find them.”
“Wait, two security teams have disappeared, and you’re sending a third after them without any more knowledge than they had?” Grey asked. “That doesn’t seem very logical.”
“I won’t deny it’s risky, but we can’t spare any more men, and Helena, with her knowledge of our security, poses a grave risk to our isolation if somebody should capture her. There are raiders operating in this region according to your last report.”
“And, according to the same report, we killed them all,” added Hef. “In a rather messy and enjoyable fashion. You should have seen the look on that guy’s face in the second before I blew it off.”
“And you think they were the only ones? I’m not willing to take that risk,” snapped the councilman. “Get out there, and find them.”
Four hours later
“Well, I guess we can safely rule out that they got lost,” Hef commented. Their search of Helena’s last known location had uncovered some tracks, and a shallow grave. A bit of digging had uncovered the body of Jonathon, dead from numerous gunshot wounds.
“You think the raiders?” asked Grey, as he started searching the body.
“Who else?” replied Gunther. “How many armed groups can there be in this region?”
“They must have taken Helena alive. For interrogation?”
“That’s my guess. They probably want to find out where she came from,” noted Hef. “That’s what I’d do.”
“But you’re also a psychotic mad scientist,” replied Grey. “So what you’d do is hardly an ideal method for determining what others would do.”
Gunther pointed out the tracks, cutting off the potential argument before it started. “Well, at least we can find out where they went. Keep your eye sharp.”
Another hour passed by, as the team tracked through the forest, keeping an eye out for raiders or mutant animals. It was uneventful, though there were a few tense moments when they thought they lost the trail.
Finally, the came across a clearing, with a small, two story shack from before the war. After ascertaining that no enemies were around, they snuck up to the door, and quietly opened it.
“How many men are there? What types of weapons do you have? Answer me!” came a faint voice from the a room on the second floor. The questions were interspaced with the sounds of metal hitting flesh. Somebody was getting pistol whipped.
“Goddamnit, that’s got to be her up there,” muttered Hef. There was no window into the office that the sounds were coming from, at least, no window they could see from the door.
“I’ve got a plan. Get up there, and get ready,” Hef ordered, as he spun the cylinder of his revolver, and sprinted over
There was the sound of someone spitting.
“Oh, real funny bitch. We don’t need you, you know. We know where your vault is,” there was the sound of someone racking a pistol.
Grey and Gunther got to the top of the stairs just in time to see, in a window, a silhouette of a man placing the barrel of a pistol against a woman’s forehead. Hef aimed his shotgun pistol straight up, as he got below the office
“Laugh this one off,” the interrogator said, and then Hef fired.
The CS penetrater did its job. It blew through the old wood, and unloaded its cargo of tear gas into the room. People started coughing, as the interrogator dropped his gun, to try to cover his eyes.
However, some of the commandos in the room were wearing gas masks. One of them smashed open the window with the butt of his shotgun, and opened up on Grey and Gunther, missing. Grey replied with a pair of shots from his pistol, nicking the man, and Gunther squeezed down on the trigger of the Tommy gun, hosing down part of the room (but avoiding Helena).
Hef started jogging upstairs, firing once he was in position.
It was a vicious gunbattle. Three commandos wearing green combat armor versus three security guards, all within thirty feet of each other. The man at the window got taken down quickly when Grey planted a ten millimeter bullet in his heart, but two other gas mask commandos burst out of the door, pumping twelve gauge shells at the killer of their friend.
The first one went down almost instantly, as Gunther regained control of his Chicago typewriter, and sprayed another ten bullets in his direction, corresponding simulatenously with Hef blasting the man in the chest with a high explosive shotgun slug.
The last man suddenly clutched his head and screamed, as Grey focused his mysterious, mutant mental powers onto him, frying his nerves and figuratively setting his brain on fire. Hef took advantage of this to shoot him dead.
With that accomplished, all that was left to do was pull a gas mask off one of the dead men, knock the interrogator out with a swift blow to the back of the head, and pull both him and Helena out of there.
To be continued
“There you go, six hundred caps, a hundred for each of you. A full trips pay. And there’s more if you want to sign on,” he added. “I could use some guards as handy as you.”
Hef caught the bag, and conferred with his friends. The offer was tempting, but they had a duty to the vault.
“Sorry,” Hef shouted back. “But we’ve got some business of our own to take care of. How long are you going to be here?”
“I’m leavin’ tonight, don’t want to stick around, in case there’s more raiders in the woods.”
“Well then, we can’t join up. We’ve got to take a few days to deal with some business of our own,” Gunther explained, shrugging.
“Sorry to hear that, lads. If you ever get to Denver, look me up. I’ll be there for a few weeks.”
And so they parted ways, the team returning to the vault to file their report.
Four days later
The wounded had been healed, thanks to the Vault’s autodoc, and the tender cares of the medical team, when the active team was called back to the briefing room again.
Only half the team was active; Hef, Grey and Gunther. Larif, Beef and Quinn were taking some R&R.
Unusually, it was one of the members of the Vault council who was waiting to brief them, instead of Helena. He was an older man, in his early fifties, with gray hair and a growing bald spot.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said, simply, as the team came in and sat down.
“What else is new?” said Gunther.
“One of our patrols disappeared five days ago, about four miles to the south-west,” the councilor stated, ignoring the chatter and going right into the briefing. “We couldn’t find out what happened to them. Yesterday, Security Chief Helena Pares took another guard, Jonathon Demal, with her, checked out a couple of assault rifles, and went looking for them. They haven’t reported in. We’re sending you out to find them.”
“Wait, two security teams have disappeared, and you’re sending a third after them without any more knowledge than they had?” Grey asked. “That doesn’t seem very logical.”
“I won’t deny it’s risky, but we can’t spare any more men, and Helena, with her knowledge of our security, poses a grave risk to our isolation if somebody should capture her. There are raiders operating in this region according to your last report.”
“And, according to the same report, we killed them all,” added Hef. “In a rather messy and enjoyable fashion. You should have seen the look on that guy’s face in the second before I blew it off.”
“And you think they were the only ones? I’m not willing to take that risk,” snapped the councilman. “Get out there, and find them.”
Four hours later
“Well, I guess we can safely rule out that they got lost,” Hef commented. Their search of Helena’s last known location had uncovered some tracks, and a shallow grave. A bit of digging had uncovered the body of Jonathon, dead from numerous gunshot wounds.
“You think the raiders?” asked Grey, as he started searching the body.
“Who else?” replied Gunther. “How many armed groups can there be in this region?”
“They must have taken Helena alive. For interrogation?”
“That’s my guess. They probably want to find out where she came from,” noted Hef. “That’s what I’d do.”
“But you’re also a psychotic mad scientist,” replied Grey. “So what you’d do is hardly an ideal method for determining what others would do.”
Gunther pointed out the tracks, cutting off the potential argument before it started. “Well, at least we can find out where they went. Keep your eye sharp.”
Another hour passed by, as the team tracked through the forest, keeping an eye out for raiders or mutant animals. It was uneventful, though there were a few tense moments when they thought they lost the trail.
Finally, the came across a clearing, with a small, two story shack from before the war. After ascertaining that no enemies were around, they snuck up to the door, and quietly opened it.
“How many men are there? What types of weapons do you have? Answer me!” came a faint voice from the a room on the second floor. The questions were interspaced with the sounds of metal hitting flesh. Somebody was getting pistol whipped.
“Goddamnit, that’s got to be her up there,” muttered Hef. There was no window into the office that the sounds were coming from, at least, no window they could see from the door.
“I’ve got a plan. Get up there, and get ready,” Hef ordered, as he spun the cylinder of his revolver, and sprinted over
There was the sound of someone spitting.
“Oh, real funny bitch. We don’t need you, you know. We know where your vault is,” there was the sound of someone racking a pistol.
Grey and Gunther got to the top of the stairs just in time to see, in a window, a silhouette of a man placing the barrel of a pistol against a woman’s forehead. Hef aimed his shotgun pistol straight up, as he got below the office
“Laugh this one off,” the interrogator said, and then Hef fired.
The CS penetrater did its job. It blew through the old wood, and unloaded its cargo of tear gas into the room. People started coughing, as the interrogator dropped his gun, to try to cover his eyes.
However, some of the commandos in the room were wearing gas masks. One of them smashed open the window with the butt of his shotgun, and opened up on Grey and Gunther, missing. Grey replied with a pair of shots from his pistol, nicking the man, and Gunther squeezed down on the trigger of the Tommy gun, hosing down part of the room (but avoiding Helena).
Hef started jogging upstairs, firing once he was in position.
It was a vicious gunbattle. Three commandos wearing green combat armor versus three security guards, all within thirty feet of each other. The man at the window got taken down quickly when Grey planted a ten millimeter bullet in his heart, but two other gas mask commandos burst out of the door, pumping twelve gauge shells at the killer of their friend.
The first one went down almost instantly, as Gunther regained control of his Chicago typewriter, and sprayed another ten bullets in his direction, corresponding simulatenously with Hef blasting the man in the chest with a high explosive shotgun slug.
The last man suddenly clutched his head and screamed, as Grey focused his mysterious, mutant mental powers onto him, frying his nerves and figuratively setting his brain on fire. Hef took advantage of this to shoot him dead.
With that accomplished, all that was left to do was pull a gas mask off one of the dead men, knock the interrogator out with a swift blow to the back of the head, and pull both him and Helena out of there.
To be continued
Ok, speaking as a member of the campaign, if the next post does not (eventually) involve us shoving sexy female scientists into the trunk of our car and/or bolting the de-meated skull of a mutated (she grew horns) ninja biker chick to the hood of our car, then he is leaving out some of the best parts.
marcoasalazarm
Explorer
'The Trader'? Ain't that some guy from the 'Deathlands' books?
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