mikeawmids
Explorer
Tonight we played our first game of Daring Tales of Adventure for Savage Worlds. Around the table were;
Pat (the GM)
Mike (my good self, playing British mesmerist Nicolas C. Raven)
Gary (playing wealthy, Italian playboy Emilio Valentine)
Malcolm (playing eccentric inventor Doctor Gizmo)
and Andy (playing heroically heroic hero Brett Hardcastle)
I am unsure how long we will be playing or how many of the Daring Tales we will get through (there are four books full, produced by Triple Ace Games), but whatever we do play will be written up here for your (hopeful) enjoyment.
Savage Worlds / Daring Tales of Adventure / To End All Wars / Part 1
On a non-descript street corner somewhere in the city of Boston, lantern jawed aviator Brett Hardcastle sat drinking coffee and awaiting the arrival of an old friend. Several of his more recent acquaintances had decided to join him for no particular reason. The handsome, Italian playboy Emilio Valentine flirted with the pretty waitress, to the mounting frustration of the other, less good looking customers awaiting service. The enigmatic Doctor Gizmo sat tinkering with some manner of weird science device, the cup of tepid coffee at his elbow long forgotten. Finally, the charming, British mesmerist Nicolas C. Raven piled sugar into his own beverage, moving the silver teaspoon with the power of his mind alone! His simian assistant, the chimpanzee Columbus sat across the table, happily eating a banana, his third since arriving thirty minutes previously.
“Pace yourself, Columbus, old boy” Nicolas chided the greedy chimp, “Bananas don’t grow on trees, you know!”
“Ook! Ook! Ook!” Columbus agreed. (“You're quite right Nicolas, bananas do not grow on trees. Rather, they grow from a root structure that produces an above ground stem. The plant is specifically classified as an arborescent - or tree-like - perennial herb; in fact, it is the largest herbaceous flowering plant. The banana plant being an herb is that the banana itself is a berry.”)
Brett sighed and resumed his vigil, watching the street for sign of a familiar face amongst the crowd of pedestrians. That morning, he had received an unexpected telephone call from a man he had not seen for many years, an old college buddy called Jim Black. Jim had sounded anxious when he asked Brett to meet with him, to discuss an urgent matter than he could not elaborate on at the time. Of course, Brett had agreed.
The pretty waitress had wandered off to another table (though she continued to cast long, smouldering glances back in Emilio’s direction). The Italian aristocrat flicked his wavy, black hair out of his dreamy, blue eyes and glanced down at his incredibly expensive wristwatch. He sighed dramatically and turned to face Brett.
“Why are we still here?” he asked in his rich, sexy European accent, “Emilio could be making fiery, passionate love with two or more beautiful women. Instead, I am still here, drinking this swill you call coffee, forced to endure the attention of your unattractive, American waitresses. It is unbearable!”
“Jim said he would meet me at eleven o’clock,” replied Brett, glancing at the clock over the counter, it was already ten minutes past the hour, “Perhaps he’s running late.”
--
Several blocks away, Jim Black glanced at his watch. 10:10; he was running late. Since leaving the lab, a feeling of unease had steadily grown somewhere in his gut. Was he being followed? Ducking into a side street, Black had waited - heart pounding in his chest - yet no sinister silhouette had appeared in the mouth of the alley.
‘I’m just being paranoid,’ he thought with a shaky sigh of relief, ‘There’s no way that anyone could know about my telephone call to Brett. I’m letting my nerves get the better of me - and who could blame me, considering the frightful secret I’ve stumbled upon!’
Emerging from the shadows, Jim Black continued his journey, hastening his steps to make up for lost time. Unobserved, a dark sedan slowly pulled away from the curb and rolled along behind him.
--
“Ah, there he is, I told you he would come!”
Slipping out of their window booth, Brett strode to the door and waved at his old friend, whom he had just spotted moving hurriedly along the other side of the street. He was older and maybe a little fatter, but it was still the same old Jim Black that he remembered from his college days. Gosh, it sure was good to see the old rascal again! No matter what dark business had prompted Jim to call, Brett was resolved to make the most of this unanticipated reunion!
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Gunshots rang out, loud and abrupt; an alien sound in this peaceful part of the city. Bullets smashed the windows of the café and sent the customers diving for cover! Brett glimpsed a smoking barrel jutting from the rear window of a dark car as it sped away from the scene. Then his attention was drawn back to Jim Black, who now lay sprawled in a bloody puddle in the middle of the road.
“Was that gunfire?” asked Doctor Gizmo, rising slowly from the bullet-ridden booth, “I could have sworn I heard something, sounded just like gunfire…. Perhaps I need to make a few calibrations to my patented portable ear trumpet.”
“Get down, you old fool!” Emilio hissed, pulling the eccentric inventor behind the cover of their overturned table. Spilled coffee pooled on the floor, dotted with shards of broken glass.
“I think Brett’s friend just got himself gunned down in the street,” Nicolas whispered, peering around the edge of their makeshift barricade.
“Wonderful!” Emilio replied, exasperated, “We waste half the morning waiting for him and then he has the gall to die before telling us what he wanted. Some people are so inconsiderate!”
“Ook!” Columbus added, somewhat optimistically. (“He might not even be dead.”)
“By the Queen’s slippers, you’re right old chum!” said Nicolas, “Someone should go and check on his vital signs or something! Gizmo, you’re a doctor, aren’t you? Be a good fellow and see to that poor bastard’s injuries. Emilio and I will help Brett catch the buggers responsible!”
“I’m not that kind of doctor….” Gizmo stammered, but his friends were not listening. Pausing to manhandle Brett into the back seat of Emilio’s vintage roadster, they roared off in pursuit of the murderous gunmen!
To be continued....
Pat (the GM)
Mike (my good self, playing British mesmerist Nicolas C. Raven)
Gary (playing wealthy, Italian playboy Emilio Valentine)
Malcolm (playing eccentric inventor Doctor Gizmo)
and Andy (playing heroically heroic hero Brett Hardcastle)
I am unsure how long we will be playing or how many of the Daring Tales we will get through (there are four books full, produced by Triple Ace Games), but whatever we do play will be written up here for your (hopeful) enjoyment.
Savage Worlds / Daring Tales of Adventure / To End All Wars / Part 1
On a non-descript street corner somewhere in the city of Boston, lantern jawed aviator Brett Hardcastle sat drinking coffee and awaiting the arrival of an old friend. Several of his more recent acquaintances had decided to join him for no particular reason. The handsome, Italian playboy Emilio Valentine flirted with the pretty waitress, to the mounting frustration of the other, less good looking customers awaiting service. The enigmatic Doctor Gizmo sat tinkering with some manner of weird science device, the cup of tepid coffee at his elbow long forgotten. Finally, the charming, British mesmerist Nicolas C. Raven piled sugar into his own beverage, moving the silver teaspoon with the power of his mind alone! His simian assistant, the chimpanzee Columbus sat across the table, happily eating a banana, his third since arriving thirty minutes previously.
“Pace yourself, Columbus, old boy” Nicolas chided the greedy chimp, “Bananas don’t grow on trees, you know!”
“Ook! Ook! Ook!” Columbus agreed. (“You're quite right Nicolas, bananas do not grow on trees. Rather, they grow from a root structure that produces an above ground stem. The plant is specifically classified as an arborescent - or tree-like - perennial herb; in fact, it is the largest herbaceous flowering plant. The banana plant being an herb is that the banana itself is a berry.”)
Brett sighed and resumed his vigil, watching the street for sign of a familiar face amongst the crowd of pedestrians. That morning, he had received an unexpected telephone call from a man he had not seen for many years, an old college buddy called Jim Black. Jim had sounded anxious when he asked Brett to meet with him, to discuss an urgent matter than he could not elaborate on at the time. Of course, Brett had agreed.
The pretty waitress had wandered off to another table (though she continued to cast long, smouldering glances back in Emilio’s direction). The Italian aristocrat flicked his wavy, black hair out of his dreamy, blue eyes and glanced down at his incredibly expensive wristwatch. He sighed dramatically and turned to face Brett.
“Why are we still here?” he asked in his rich, sexy European accent, “Emilio could be making fiery, passionate love with two or more beautiful women. Instead, I am still here, drinking this swill you call coffee, forced to endure the attention of your unattractive, American waitresses. It is unbearable!”
“Jim said he would meet me at eleven o’clock,” replied Brett, glancing at the clock over the counter, it was already ten minutes past the hour, “Perhaps he’s running late.”
--
Several blocks away, Jim Black glanced at his watch. 10:10; he was running late. Since leaving the lab, a feeling of unease had steadily grown somewhere in his gut. Was he being followed? Ducking into a side street, Black had waited - heart pounding in his chest - yet no sinister silhouette had appeared in the mouth of the alley.
‘I’m just being paranoid,’ he thought with a shaky sigh of relief, ‘There’s no way that anyone could know about my telephone call to Brett. I’m letting my nerves get the better of me - and who could blame me, considering the frightful secret I’ve stumbled upon!’
Emerging from the shadows, Jim Black continued his journey, hastening his steps to make up for lost time. Unobserved, a dark sedan slowly pulled away from the curb and rolled along behind him.
--
“Ah, there he is, I told you he would come!”
Slipping out of their window booth, Brett strode to the door and waved at his old friend, whom he had just spotted moving hurriedly along the other side of the street. He was older and maybe a little fatter, but it was still the same old Jim Black that he remembered from his college days. Gosh, it sure was good to see the old rascal again! No matter what dark business had prompted Jim to call, Brett was resolved to make the most of this unanticipated reunion!
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Gunshots rang out, loud and abrupt; an alien sound in this peaceful part of the city. Bullets smashed the windows of the café and sent the customers diving for cover! Brett glimpsed a smoking barrel jutting from the rear window of a dark car as it sped away from the scene. Then his attention was drawn back to Jim Black, who now lay sprawled in a bloody puddle in the middle of the road.
“Was that gunfire?” asked Doctor Gizmo, rising slowly from the bullet-ridden booth, “I could have sworn I heard something, sounded just like gunfire…. Perhaps I need to make a few calibrations to my patented portable ear trumpet.”
“Get down, you old fool!” Emilio hissed, pulling the eccentric inventor behind the cover of their overturned table. Spilled coffee pooled on the floor, dotted with shards of broken glass.
“I think Brett’s friend just got himself gunned down in the street,” Nicolas whispered, peering around the edge of their makeshift barricade.
“Wonderful!” Emilio replied, exasperated, “We waste half the morning waiting for him and then he has the gall to die before telling us what he wanted. Some people are so inconsiderate!”
“Ook!” Columbus added, somewhat optimistically. (“He might not even be dead.”)
“By the Queen’s slippers, you’re right old chum!” said Nicolas, “Someone should go and check on his vital signs or something! Gizmo, you’re a doctor, aren’t you? Be a good fellow and see to that poor bastard’s injuries. Emilio and I will help Brett catch the buggers responsible!”
“I’m not that kind of doctor….” Gizmo stammered, but his friends were not listening. Pausing to manhandle Brett into the back seat of Emilio’s vintage roadster, they roared off in pursuit of the murderous gunmen!
To be continued....
