Medallions d20 Modern (Update Wednesday 09-20-06)
Draco Bahamut
First Post
I have finally started my own D20 modern campaing after liked so much Medalions. I hope to be good enought. I also really hope to read more soon, althrought it´s not directly inspired by it.
ledded
Herder of monkies
Omega Lord said:Huzah for updates!
You guys really do have an amazing chemistry if these transcriptions are any indicator. I think I know a few "Joe's" IRL. *shudder*
Heh. That's actually one of the things we were going for... to have characters that, no matter how they are played, could be guys you know one of IRL. I'm not sure what it says about most of us that we all know more "Joe's" than we know of the other relatively more normal folks...
. Our group does have a good chemisty, mostly being the pretty smart but smarmy jokesters that we are, it's usually a long roll of one-off comments and insults, and you get extra credit towards a free action point if you make the GM snork drink out of his nose. And we're all pretty good friends who do stuff outside of game night sometimes too. Though Drew does an *excellent* job of writing up our stuff, and adds a nice bit of flavor and flair here and there that often makes it read better than it played. That is, when we can get him to write nowadays (hint HINT)Draco, johndaw16, thanks from all of us. It is the sincerest form of flattery when someone tells you that they liked your game/SH so much they wanted to try something similar. We do appreciate it, one and all. There were at one time a couple of pretty good Story Hours on here that were modern games from folks who read Medallions and started up their own, and there are other Modern/Horror SH's that had nothing to do with reading OldDrewId's that are pretty darn good also (Heapthaumaturgist has a couple, among others).
fludogg
First Post
ledded said:
I think we like to play characters that all have flaws and that are just average who are placed in situations where they are forced to become a hero. I think it makes for more fun and a great story. Plus who wants to play the guy who is good at everything... what is the challenge in that.
ledded said:
I agree, we really do appreciate it...
I know I don't post that much, mainly because I can not get to enworld from work. (web nazis block me). Oh yeah and I live in the stone ages without the net at home. Go ahead and chuckle everyone else does. I however can read the post since they are sent to my email (at work)... So thanks for all the kind words about Medallions. Keep sending in the bumps and lets get Old Drew Id to give us an update... I know we bug him every game night to drop another post to the story hour... SO POST AN UPDATE PLEASE...Thanks,
Flu DoGG
Old Drew Id
First Post
Episode II - Session II: Second Avenue South
Episode II - Session II: Second Avenue South
Willie’s beat-up old sedan bounced and sparked around the corner at a dangerously unstable fifty miles per hour, lobbing hubcaps off in three different directions. The engine was roaring like an angry mama bear coming back to protect her cub as Joe jammed the gas pedal to the floor.
A few blocks up ahead, Joe could see Willie staggering away from a gang of young Indian punks. Crystal was on her Harley half a block farther down, circling back around for another pass. The punks were still closing in on Willie, and he was covered in blood. Joe growled gutturally in tone with the engine, “…get away from him, you son of a…”
“Watch fer tha’ policemen. Thar not oot ‘ere yet!” Taylor warned, looking up to the warehouse door on the right, with the suspicious police cruiser still parked outside.
Joe’s gaze turned strategic. “Open your door when I say ‘Go’. Three…two…one…”
Joe drove head on into the melee, quickly faked left and watch the pack of kids scatter. At the last second, he swerved right, and Taylor kicked his door open, catching one of the punks neatly across the hip. The kid’s body collapsed like a rag doll over the car door, shattering the window and falling limply to the pavement. Glass tinkled down in a blood-pink fountain all around.
The car never slowed down. Joe lined up on a second punk with his door. He threw the door open, but the punk side-stepped. Joe swerved hard left, but went too far. Suddenly a dark shape loomed ahead. He slammed the brakes, but his open door slammed into a parked car. It closed hard on him, the window shattered, and the side mirror came flying into the front seat in a shower of broken glass. With a ‘fingernails on the chalkboard’ screeching, the car scraped to a stop another few feet down.
Taylor looked over at him incredulously, “From now oon, Ah’m drivin’!”
Miraculously, neither of them was even hurt, though they were now both covered in broken glass. The windshield was spider-webbed beyond the point of visibility, and the glove box was spilled open. Joe shook pebbles of safety glass from his hair and focused in on the warehouse door, where the cops should be about to come out. “The cops must still be inside…”
“My car!!!” He could hear Willie screaming outside.
One of the punks was moving past the hood of the car now, armed with a crowbar. Joe motioned to Taylor. “I’ll take care of the cops. You help Willie!”
Taylor shoved something into the glove box, and then confidently hopped out of the car and hustled off to intercept the kid.
Joe sat very still and stared at the warehouse door. He concentrated, and let the insanity take over. Somewhere in the back of his throat, in a voice far too alien for human lips, he began whispering.
. . .
The sight of his own car rounding the corner was more refreshing than walking into an air-conditioned building in the middle of July. Invigorated, at least for the moment, Willie had bolted out of the gap that Crystal had created for him, and run towards the middle of the road. But then the punks had tried to encircle him, and suddenly Joe was driving just right the hell through everybody and Willie had been forced to dodge off to one side.
With his back turned, he heard a sickening wet crunch, followed by shattering glass. As he turned around, he watched in slow motion as the driver’s side door smashed into a parked car and the entire driver’s side of his car slid up against a parked truck.
“My car!!!” He tasted bitter cigar leaves in his throat and the world seemed to be tinted red.
The punks had scattered, at least for a few seconds. Willie hobbled towards his car. He saw Taylor starting to climb out.
“Hit the trunk button in the glove box!” Willie ordered, his voice hoarse and angry.
Taylor reached back into the car and hit the trunk-release button in the glove box. The trunk popped open a few inches. Willie dodged one of the punks making a clumsy swipe with a knife, punched the kid in the nose hard, and kept staggering over to the car’s trunk.
A wasp flew past Willie’s face as he opened the trunk, but he ignored it. With the trunk open, he was safe for a moment. He tucked his gun back into his belt with one hand and used the other to toss aside a half-empty gas can and an all-weather tarp. After a moment, his hand closed down over a familiar piece of cold metal.
A fly buzzed in his ear for a second, and the taste of sour rum came unbidden to his throat. He ignored that too, and turned back towards the battlefield. His expression was grim, and maybe even pleased.
In his hands, he held his shotgun.
. . .
Taylor faced off against the little punk with the crowbar. He curled his hands into fists and met the kid’s eyes with a cold steely gaze of his own.
A couple of dragonflies darted past him, as though even the very insects were afraid of his wrath in manual combat. He grinned grimly. With one flick of his fingers, he motioned the kid forward.
“Ya want ta pick a fight, do ya? Give us a try, ya wee little sh---”
Pain exploded in the back of his head. He staggered forward, half-blind. Another kid had snuck up behind him and smacked him with a pipe across the back of his neck.
The world spun neatly around in a circle as darkness closed in. Just before it completely winked out, he saw a fat red ladybug flying past his face.
. . .
Crystal gunned the engine and began racing forward again. Her targets were scattered now, and she no longer had the element of surprise. But with Joe and Taylor crashing the party, the enemy were no longer so organized either. She wanted to pick up Willie and just get the hell out of here, but already, that looked impossible.
A fat horsefly splattered itself into a purple stain on her visor. She was going too fast to wipe it off now. She aimed the bike at one of the closest punks, but as she drew close, the kid saw her and he dodged hard to the side. She only managed to clip him on the elbow as she went past.
She hit the brakes and felt her control of the bike get a little splashy as she turned wide. She tried to circle over to Willie when she noticed Taylor down on the ground, with a bloody wound on the back of his neck. She cursed in Choctaw.
She paused for a moment, judging the situation. Taylor was struggling to get up, two kids were standing over him with weapons, and Willie was nearby armed with a shotgun facing down another kid. Where the hell was Joe? Still in the car? A swarm of gnats buzzed around her helmet, and she took a second to wipe the smear off her visor.
To her right, she saw a cop car parked next to some steps leading up to a warehouse door. It seemed completely out of place. Why was a cop car parked over here? And why had it been parked here for so long that there were roaches crawling around over the top of it?
Episode II - Session II: Second Avenue South
Willie’s beat-up old sedan bounced and sparked around the corner at a dangerously unstable fifty miles per hour, lobbing hubcaps off in three different directions. The engine was roaring like an angry mama bear coming back to protect her cub as Joe jammed the gas pedal to the floor.
A few blocks up ahead, Joe could see Willie staggering away from a gang of young Indian punks. Crystal was on her Harley half a block farther down, circling back around for another pass. The punks were still closing in on Willie, and he was covered in blood. Joe growled gutturally in tone with the engine, “…get away from him, you son of a…”
“Watch fer tha’ policemen. Thar not oot ‘ere yet!” Taylor warned, looking up to the warehouse door on the right, with the suspicious police cruiser still parked outside.
Joe’s gaze turned strategic. “Open your door when I say ‘Go’. Three…two…one…”
Joe drove head on into the melee, quickly faked left and watch the pack of kids scatter. At the last second, he swerved right, and Taylor kicked his door open, catching one of the punks neatly across the hip. The kid’s body collapsed like a rag doll over the car door, shattering the window and falling limply to the pavement. Glass tinkled down in a blood-pink fountain all around.
The car never slowed down. Joe lined up on a second punk with his door. He threw the door open, but the punk side-stepped. Joe swerved hard left, but went too far. Suddenly a dark shape loomed ahead. He slammed the brakes, but his open door slammed into a parked car. It closed hard on him, the window shattered, and the side mirror came flying into the front seat in a shower of broken glass. With a ‘fingernails on the chalkboard’ screeching, the car scraped to a stop another few feet down.
Taylor looked over at him incredulously, “From now oon, Ah’m drivin’!”
Miraculously, neither of them was even hurt, though they were now both covered in broken glass. The windshield was spider-webbed beyond the point of visibility, and the glove box was spilled open. Joe shook pebbles of safety glass from his hair and focused in on the warehouse door, where the cops should be about to come out. “The cops must still be inside…”
“My car!!!” He could hear Willie screaming outside.
One of the punks was moving past the hood of the car now, armed with a crowbar. Joe motioned to Taylor. “I’ll take care of the cops. You help Willie!”
Taylor shoved something into the glove box, and then confidently hopped out of the car and hustled off to intercept the kid.
Joe sat very still and stared at the warehouse door. He concentrated, and let the insanity take over. Somewhere in the back of his throat, in a voice far too alien for human lips, he began whispering.
. . .
The sight of his own car rounding the corner was more refreshing than walking into an air-conditioned building in the middle of July. Invigorated, at least for the moment, Willie had bolted out of the gap that Crystal had created for him, and run towards the middle of the road. But then the punks had tried to encircle him, and suddenly Joe was driving just right the hell through everybody and Willie had been forced to dodge off to one side.
With his back turned, he heard a sickening wet crunch, followed by shattering glass. As he turned around, he watched in slow motion as the driver’s side door smashed into a parked car and the entire driver’s side of his car slid up against a parked truck.
“My car!!!” He tasted bitter cigar leaves in his throat and the world seemed to be tinted red.
The punks had scattered, at least for a few seconds. Willie hobbled towards his car. He saw Taylor starting to climb out.
“Hit the trunk button in the glove box!” Willie ordered, his voice hoarse and angry.
Taylor reached back into the car and hit the trunk-release button in the glove box. The trunk popped open a few inches. Willie dodged one of the punks making a clumsy swipe with a knife, punched the kid in the nose hard, and kept staggering over to the car’s trunk.
A wasp flew past Willie’s face as he opened the trunk, but he ignored it. With the trunk open, he was safe for a moment. He tucked his gun back into his belt with one hand and used the other to toss aside a half-empty gas can and an all-weather tarp. After a moment, his hand closed down over a familiar piece of cold metal.
A fly buzzed in his ear for a second, and the taste of sour rum came unbidden to his throat. He ignored that too, and turned back towards the battlefield. His expression was grim, and maybe even pleased.
In his hands, he held his shotgun.
. . .
Taylor faced off against the little punk with the crowbar. He curled his hands into fists and met the kid’s eyes with a cold steely gaze of his own.
A couple of dragonflies darted past him, as though even the very insects were afraid of his wrath in manual combat. He grinned grimly. With one flick of his fingers, he motioned the kid forward.
“Ya want ta pick a fight, do ya? Give us a try, ya wee little sh---”
Pain exploded in the back of his head. He staggered forward, half-blind. Another kid had snuck up behind him and smacked him with a pipe across the back of his neck.
The world spun neatly around in a circle as darkness closed in. Just before it completely winked out, he saw a fat red ladybug flying past his face.
. . .
Crystal gunned the engine and began racing forward again. Her targets were scattered now, and she no longer had the element of surprise. But with Joe and Taylor crashing the party, the enemy were no longer so organized either. She wanted to pick up Willie and just get the hell out of here, but already, that looked impossible.
A fat horsefly splattered itself into a purple stain on her visor. She was going too fast to wipe it off now. She aimed the bike at one of the closest punks, but as she drew close, the kid saw her and he dodged hard to the side. She only managed to clip him on the elbow as she went past.
She hit the brakes and felt her control of the bike get a little splashy as she turned wide. She tried to circle over to Willie when she noticed Taylor down on the ground, with a bloody wound on the back of his neck. She cursed in Choctaw.
She paused for a moment, judging the situation. Taylor was struggling to get up, two kids were standing over him with weapons, and Willie was nearby armed with a shotgun facing down another kid. Where the hell was Joe? Still in the car? A swarm of gnats buzzed around her helmet, and she took a second to wipe the smear off her visor.
To her right, she saw a cop car parked next to some steps leading up to a warehouse door. It seemed completely out of place. Why was a cop car parked over here? And why had it been parked here for so long that there were roaches crawling around over the top of it?