Previous threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=the%20buns!%20questTwitter: @Specificity_QMYou are Miko Chambers, a young and quite terrified girl in the pursuit of her missing rabbits and parents. Right now, you're playing poker with five masked people in order to win back Cookie, along with Lisl, the daughter of a man you've elected to help. After correctly answering two of Eight's riddles, you can't quite remember what happened. Except now you need to keep on playing. Play to win. Do it for Cookie. You're back in the main room, and the new hand is just beginning, when, what you assume is the butler, enters. He stands behind you and pours your tea and places another garibaldi biscuit on the saucer. You turn around to thank him, but he's already moved onto the next person and you cannot quite see his face. As the tea trickled from pot to cup, you hear his soft, deep breathing. It sounds like sandpaper against metal. You can feel Twelve's smile beneath his mask. “Mr Shannon. It's wonderful to have you back, but I must remind you- if you lose your temper, the game terminates.” Twelve gazes into his empty teacup. “In light of your actions, Mr Shannon, Ms Chambers has won her challenge. Let this be a lesson and a warning. If you lose control again, you'll have to take a forfeit of Ms Chambers' choice.” He looks you in the eyes, and says in the most genuine and cheerful and happy-loving voice, “I'm so proud of you. Well done.” As though reading your mind, he says to the others, “In order for Ms Chambers to win, let me remind you she must complete three further hands and one further challenge; or a comparative number of victories. Now, let us go along with our game.” And he deals. Six and Queen of Diamonds. Nice.“The entry bid, as ever, is fifty.”>Do you bid?>Y>N
>>37589451Everyone bids. No complaints, ifs, buts, anything. They all in turn push forward the chips. Twelve looks as bemused as you feel. Perhaps they're in cahoots. Cahoots is a word that you like a lot. It seems very suitable, you think, for owls to be in cahoots. Not necessarily with anything, just being in cahoots on their own. Daddy told you what cahoots means, but you may have forgotten. Or perhaps you're looking too deeply into his mask. He shrugs, and turns over the cards. Under the table, your fingers curl. You'd feel a whole lot better with your spirit level. You could know that you were safe. The cards are: Five of Spades. Seven of Hearts, Queen of Clubs. Two calls altogether too quickly, you think. Perhaps she's got something. You can never know, though. Four scratches behind his ear with long, slow arcs, and raises. The bid is now one hundred. You can afford it. You also have a strong pair. >What do you do?>Meet>Fold>Other?
>>37589019>>YWelcome back Spec
>>37589656>>37589451Thanks! It's great to have returned. College, as ever, a shit but I'm on top of things.
>>37589638>>MeetAlso shift in your seat and stare hard at the cards for a second.
>>37589720Give me a d20+5 for bluff, please.
Rolled 8 + 5 (1d20 + 5)>>37589741Oh, dear.
>>37589758There are two other players, I accept best of three rolls.
Rolled 1 + 5 (1d20 + 5)>>37589741>>37589781Sorry Sorry
>>37589812Okay. One more roll.
Rolled 5 + 5 (1d20 + 5)
>>37589891>>37589812>>37589758You mumble that you're going to meet. You do your best to look nervous. You shuffle back and forth in your seat, but not too much so that they may catch on to your bluff. You stare hard at your hand, and move slightly, as though to fold. All eyes are on you as you push the chips to the middle of the table. Shannon folds. He mutters about cheaters and card counting and other things you don't quite understand. Ten shakes his head slowly, says something about this stupid game and meets. Twelve turns over the next card. Six of spades. You've got two pair. Queens over sixes. Not bad at all. Two meets the moment the cards hit the table. Four looks around quickly, before meeting as well. The pot at the moment is quite something. And you don't have much money left. However, you think, you have a fair chance at victory. Although the rest of them could be liars, you can win. And if you win, you'll get Cookie! You don't think your bluff worked, though. >Meet>Raise>Fold
>>37590050>RaiseShe who dares, wins!>>37589781FYI I check in like once an hour so don't count on me for every vote.
>>37590050>>RaiseSorry about being MIA.I'm sick and tend to pass out
>>37590088>>37590325You look at your chips. This is it. Do or die. You take a deep breath and apologise in advance to your parents, to Cookie and to Henderson and Juliet in case of defeat. You say sorry to Mattias, who may never see his little girl ever again, and it will be entirely your fault. Oh bum you really truly deeply want your spirit level. More than anything else at this moment. More, even, than Cookie or the loving embrace of Daddy. You only have two hundred left. But you can and will win this. You have ultimate conviction. You feel your feet tremble as you say the two words. “All in.” You blush and then say a please and thank you afterwards. Manners maketh girl, after all. You can feel a frission of shock pass through the other players. All in, they must be thinking? The girl's mad. But you're not mad. You are certifiably sane and only want your bunny back. Shannon sits back and laughs. Unlike his giggles, his laughter is as deep and bass as a fog in a swamp. You're not sure whether he's laughing at you, at the situation, or out of anxiety. There are no clues in his face. You stand up all of a sudden, throw back your tea. She who dares, wins! “Yes! That's right! All in!” You take the remainder of your chips, and place them at the top of the pile. Twelve gazes at you. “Allow me to elucidate the rules for the player on their last leg.” he says, “They are this: if you win this hand, you win the entire pot. If you lose, the winner gives you one hundred as a buy-in, on the understanding that they will be repaid.” His emphasis on the will unsettles you. He says it as though bad things will happen otherwise. His voice was cold and hard as steel kept in the freezer when he said that word. “If after that you run out of money, you will have to forfeit. I hope you understand this, Ms Chambers. It is a brave move you're making.”“Yes, it is, Mister. Thank you.”
>>37590543Ten folds. “I don't have the money for this.” he says, and steps outside, presumably for another smoke. These people and their addictions, you think! How horrible and hurtful they are to themselves and others!Twelve turns over the final card. Ace of Clubs. Two looks at her hand, and looks at her chips, and back to her hand. She knows that there's no way in hell that you'll fold now. So she does. And now it's just you and Four and Four and you. He meets, with ease. You're about to start deciding what to do, when Four stands up and starts speaking. “Mr Croupier, just for fun, I've had an idea-”“Mr Bossqueath, please be seated. Your idea can be heard next hand.”“Yes, thank you.” he says, and sits down. You have no other sane option apart from calling. Folding would mean humiliating defeat, and you can't gamble with money you don't have. That's just silly. You check. Bossqueath checks as well.“Well, ladies and gentlemen, please show your hands.” is all Mr Croopee-ehrr (aka Twelve) says. “Two pair, sevens over fives.” says Mr Bossqueath.And all you do is smile. “Two pair,” you say, “Queens over sixes.”And here is where Mr Shannon takes a pistol out of his pocket. Roll for initiative.
Rolled 19 (1d20)>>37590565d20 right?
Rolled 12 (1d20)>>37590565well that was unexpected.though I'm not sure why
Rolled 12 (1d20)>>37590565
>>37590604>>37590648>>37590678Yeah.You've been waiting for this moment. The moment where you get to make this meanie pay for his evilness. He called you names. He laughed at you. And now he threatens your life? You remember hearing a drunken conversation between your Daddy and your uncle, and Daddy said something along the lines of “Himmah bash yehr fauckin ed in may't I swehr on me nan” and Uncle laughed and it was all very cozy. When Daddy was more sober, you asked him about how to go about bashing someone's fauckin ed in and what was swehr-ing and who is nan. Daddy was very embarrassed, but sat you down and told you. The way you bash someone's fauckin ed in is that you take something quite heavy and hit them with it until it breaks. Then, you do the same on their head until they stop moving. But you should never ever do that Miko, because it's a thing only meanies and baddies do. I'm telling you this because I trust you and if I ever catch you trying to bash in heads, you will be very sorry young lady. Also, don't use that word. “What word?” you replied. He said the word beginning with f. It's a filthy and bad word and you shouldn't use it because it marks you out as a meanie if you say it. With all this in mind, you grab your chair by its legs and run towards Mr Shannon.DC7 Strength checkDC11 Charge DC10 AccuracyEveryone else sits in stunned silence. Twelve's hands creep towards his pockets. Two trembles greatly. Four is frozen, hands clenched in the fury of defeat. Ten looks nonchalant and cool.
>>37590885Yeah, that's right.
Rolled 5, 4, 11 = 20 (3d20)>>37590782Here goes then.
Rolled 14, 8, 2 = 24 (3d20)>>37590782OOOO RAH!
Rolled 16, 1, 1 = 18 (3d20)>>37590782Sorry I'm late.
>>37591003No offense but, maybe a LITTLE later next time?>16, 8, 11 best case if there are no critfailsAh fuck, we suck ass at this. Little girl indeed.
>>37591003...dammit. And now I wish I'd have been later.
>>37591023Yeah, there are no crits quite here. The chair, all your weight and fury and resentment, as well as yourself collide with Shannon. He staggers back a few feet, but isn't knocked over, like you wanted him to be. You take a huge breath in as you slam into him again, and say, as bravely and as loudly and as angrily as possible that you'll bash his meanie head in like it was some kind of carrot and you swear on your bun that it'll happen. Daddy never quite got to explaining what a mate or a nan was, so you left them out and made do with what you had. On the second collision, he doesn't even stumble. Anchored in the ground, gun in hand. It's an old-style type thing, with six chambers in a rotator. You think it's called a revolver. It looks cruel. With all your might, you lift the chair above your head, and boop him with all your fury. The noise of the marriage between skull and chair is rather like that when you dropped a bowling ball from the fifteenth floor down the service stairs. A crunch, a partition, almost. You don't really know the words for the sound. Like the surface of the earth splitting. Shannon's eyes grow wilder and more furious. This meanie would probably harm Cookie given the chance. This meanie doesn't even like hugs. This meanie-Shannon raises the revolver in both hands, slightly trembling, his face contorted in a jeering, victorious grin, levels it at you, and fires.
>>37591236Well, it was good questing with you anons!
>>37591333There are still a one last check you can do. d20+3 Dodge vs my roll of Shannon's Accuracy
Rolled 11 (1d20)(Shannon's Accuracy Roll)
Rolled 3 + 3 (1d20 + 3)>>37591423C'mon!
Rolled 18 (1d20)>>37591544Two more rolls.
Rolled 13 + 3 (1d20 + 3)
>>37591569Ignore that roll.>>37591662Writing.
Rolled 13 + 3 (1d20 + 3)>>37591691Oh, don't need a third?I'll just reroll to see what I get then.
You feel hot white energy as it draws a straight line across your left arm. Like someone drawing on you with a pen and ruler, except they're both made of fire. The bullet buries itself in the wall behind you. Now's your chance. Everyone's face is locked in expression. Shannon's; victory, Bossqueath's; fear, Ten's; surprise. You slam the chair into his gut, and almost overbalance as you do so. Shannon makes a sad little oof sound, and falls back. You consider punishing him. Behind you, Twelve makes a quiet, polite noise, and you turn around. Next to him is a metal gurney, with a tray on it. The tray is covered in a rectangle of lace. On it lies a hammer, a handful of knives, your screwdriver and your spirit level. “Ms Chambers, I believe that Mr Shannon has forfeited. Do to him what you will. Try not to make a mess, please. Mr Shannon couldn't handle defeat or victory, and therefore is an irresponsible player. He gambled with his life in attacking you. And it appears he's lost.”Before he can say another word, you daintily and carefully walk over to the fallen Shannon, and stomp, as hard as you can, on the hand holding the gun. He was a meanie. Meanies aren't allowed to hurt people.You quickly take stock. You need to win two more hands and one challenge to get back Cookie. You will have to think very carefully about your next action.>What do you do?1)>Harm>Don't harm2)>Take his money>Don't take his money3)>Ask about what he was playing for>Any other relevant question>Ask about Mattias and Lisl and their welfare.4)>Another course of action [State, please]
>>37592024>Don't harm>Take his money>Ask about Mattias and Lisl and their welfare.
>>37592024>>37592239Sure, that looks good to me too!
>>37592024>Don't harm>Take his money>Ask about what he was playing for
>>37592239>>37592274>>37592420Okay, Writing. I think I'm going to take a brief break after the following post, but I will be back.
Your hands hover over the tray. You could cut off one of his ears. Or hurt that voicebox that makes that horrible, swampy laugh. You could remove his nails. You could break his elbows with the hammer. You could nail him with the spirit level. You don't. You're an big girl. A grownup who doesn't resort to violence unless absolutely necessary. Instead, you ask Twelve some questions.“Mr Croupier, instead of harming Mr Shannon, would it be possible if I could take damages instead?”“And what, dear girl, do you mean by that?”“His money.”Twelve looks around at the stunned players. “Are we in accordance with this movement?” They all nod, slowly. “Wonderful. Mr Shannon, get back to your seat. Let's say, on top of her winnings, that you give Ms Chambers an additional...thousand dollars? You were warned, and, through her great mercy, you're alive. I'm sure, Mr Shannon, anyone else at this table would have killed you under the circumstances. Is your life worth $1000?”He sullenly gives you all his chips. “What's this?”, Twelve says, amused, “Only eight-hundred and ninety? Mister Shannon, please, I'm sure you can afford this.”He looks at his feet. “No, I can't.” All his pride and flair and anger is sucked out of him now. He's like a deflated balloon version of himself. “In which case, Mister Shannon, you know what you must do.”“I do.”He takes a cleaver from the cart, and places his splayed hand on the table. He mutters something, both hands shaking desperately. He brings it down, and you feel the table shudder. Wrapping them carefully in tissue paper, he passes the remainder of your prize to you. “I hope you find use of them,” he says, through a grin so wide you're afraid his mouth might tear. You thank him.
“Mr Croupier, could I ask you two further questions?”“That depends on what they are, my dear.”“First: are Lisl and Cookie okay?”“That depends on how you'd define 'okay'.” He says the word as though it's rancid.“Are they in the state in which they were delivered to you? Alive and well?”“That they are.” You sigh in relief. “Second: what exactly was Mr Shannon playing for?”“I believe you deserve to know: Mr Shannon wanted Mr Fogel's daugher.”
I have good news. I can hang around for about fifteen minutes. Any questions/comments/things?
>>37593180Thanks for the thread though. See ya next time.
>>37593180Thanks for running! It was pretty fun, shit rolls and all, haha!
>>37593400Yay! I love it when people gain enjoyment from my work.