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/qst/ - Quests

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First thread:

Archive of Act 1 and 2:

Last time:


The bell rings in your head as your whole body screams, panic taking over. You're deep in the middle of some scary shit right now. A crashing brick woke you up in the middle of the night sending you into a frenzy. Between training, reminiscing, and everything else that happened recently, it's all hitting you and your muscles like a fucking mac truck. You're damaged.


You yelled this at your concerned mom as she sees you struggling to stand, knees buckin', trying to react to the potential threat outside. But you're fast as lightning, and no one hurts your fuckin' home.



STAM: 2, 7, 7

FORCE: 21, 7, 20



You say this to yourself looking at the brick and the fireworks, popping off in your room. Your legs feel like jello, but you persevere.

Getting up, you grab the brick, feeling the coarse edge on your hand, and SLAM THE FUCK OUT OF IT right back at the window. To top it off, you take the firework, halfway down its lifespan, and kick that shit Ronaldo-style right back in their fucking faces.

Actually, what are their fucking faces? Wobbly dodging the broken glass, you make your way back over to your bed and peer out the window to maybe steal a look at the fuckers who killed your beauty sleep. Against the dim lighting of the streetlamps and pale light from the moon, it's a fair shot.

Still, like pussies (Poole would say), they fucking left. The lowlifes. You did catch the heel of one of the rounding the corner towards the street heading right. You could maybe catch up to them, but you're in no condition, and it wouldn't exactly be a fair fight.

Assessing the damage, the air is filled with firework smoke, like the inside of one of those tents where they sell 'em. Theirs a bit of broken glass on the windowsill and some on the floor tot eh left of your bed. The room's colder now, thanks to the sudden draft and your mom is sitting there halfway in tears.

"What is goin' on? Who the fuck was that?!? Oh god!"

She starts sobbing, panic setting in. You hold on to your mom and try to console her, but you have a pretty good idea of who that was.

You head downstairs and grab a broom and dustpan to sweep up the glass, and as you make your down and up you feel your leg strength leaving you as your muscles lose their adrenaline. Sweeping up the glass, you look over to your mom who's stood up, shaken it off, and tried to center herself.

"We should call the cops." She sniffs a few more times.

Oh fuck. Fuck she can't do that. You'd be wanted. You'd be hunted by the fucking gang and the cops maybe. Shit, this can't happen.

>Let her call the cops
>Write-in (convince her to not call)
>Write-in other
>>Write-in (convince her to not call)
"No, they're just trying to scare us, ma. We call the cops and this escalates." Hug her. "I'm gonna get their cash and this will be all over."
Voting for this
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"No, they're just trying to scare us, ma. We call the cops and this escalates."

You give her a hug that is half out of fear and half out of protection. Training's gonna mean more than just going the distance for twelve rounds. People you love are caught up in this shit.

"I'm gonna get them their cash and this'll be all over."

Her eyes widen.

"You owe these people money? What the fuck's the matter with you?!?"

You sigh and stare at the floor for what feels like forever. Opening your mouth is fruitless, as it yields not a goddamn thing, but yet you try. Squeaking and croaking, you stand up and let out...

"El Desmadre."

"El what?"

"El Desmadre. They're a gang. they say I owe them money. But you ain't gotta worry. It's not that much."

"Not that much? Honey they found where we live what the FUCK?"

She was trying to be compassionate, given the circumstances, but she was very understandably pissed off. She stands up and paces around for a moment.

"They never saw anyone here but me. They know it's me but you should be fine. I fuckin' fought three of them and won. They're a bunch of pussies and lowlifes. And I can handle myself."

She stares at you for a long time. She as always trusted you, as it's been just you and her for a long ass time. She has every reason to believe that you won that fight, regardless of the fact that you had help. Even so, the fact remains that this fight just got brought to your doorstep. You're gonna protect her.
You continue this conversation, mostly to kill this otherwise deafening pause.

"I'll protect you ma. I'm training right now and I'm gonna protect you."

She nods and tears up. She has to believe in you.

"Look son, I don't know why you owe money, I don't know who El Des whatever are, I could care less. I believe you, and I know you can handle yourself. You looked at me with stern eyes and an honest heart, and that's all I need from my baby boy. You look just like your fa-"

She cuts herself off.

"You're strong."

She corrected course.


You head back to bed after disposing of the glass and you try your best to get some sleep.

Tossing and turning you roll over and look at your phone to cool off. It helps you relax.

You listen to music and conk out.





You slap your alarm with a load of force.

>ROLL: 1d10 + Stamina (1) vs. 7

Rolled 7 + 7 (1d10 + 7)

Get out there and work!
Sorry, that should be an 8.
Rolled 4 + 1 (1d10 + 1)

So if we fail Gerardo just goes back to sleep or what


I thought it was fitting because a lot of shit happened late at night and him getting up would be difficult. It won't be a normal thing to get up with a roll.


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Gerardo slams the alarm clock. Really it's just just his phone, still cracked, playing the sound of an alarm clock, but it's still just as satisfying to slam it.

Groggy, you stand up...


Alright, so today's another day. It's a bit chilly when you get up, the draft hitting you all night and all. Cleared the smoke smell right out.


Glancing at your phone again through tired eyes while quickly bumbling to slap a shirt on you notice the time now is about 8 AM and change. You feel like you got hit by a ton of bricks after yesterday and last night. Shit, let's take a quick moment and realize all the shit that's gone down.

Girl named Becca entered your life and she seems really nice. Maybe. Then there's the training. You fucking killed your legs, but you feel like a champion. You ran like mad. MAD. Then you had some dope burgers, headed home in a pool of sweat and tried to reach out to old friends that you remembered mid-K.O.

Also it's Tuesday, and you got about 6 more days until next Monday's big fight with Donny.

Maybe you should train?

Fuck.. FUCK. You gotta go to work.


Ah shit, and to top it off, there's the door. Probably just the postman, gotta go sign for something.

Mom's not in the house. She probably had to go in early. There is a note on the counter, as this is custom for when she has to skedaddle early.

Eh, whatever.


Yeah, yeah. You're almost there jeez. Keep your pants on.

You swing the door open wide and your eyes widen further. It's Becca.

"OH! Oh hey! Uhhhhhh"

Your mouth goes agape as she just fuckin stands there laughing at you. Oh man.

"Oh hey Gerardo, fancy seeing you here."

She takes a step up the stairs and continues.

"And fancy seeing this..."

She looks down, then up again rather quickly. Oh my god you never put pants on. shitshitSHITSHIT.

"Uhhhhhhhh, you mind if I..."

"Oh don't be silly, I won't be long."

Oh god what does she mean by this. Oh god she's trying to come in. Shit. Fuck.

>Let her in.
>"What the hell are you doing at my house?"
>Close door and run for pants.
>Write in.

As it stands, Gerardo currently has a pair of boxers and a tshirt. He usually sleeps in boxers and a tank top
>Close door and run for pants
>>Write in.
>he forgot his pants
Let her in
>Let her in sleeping naked is best tho
Make sure your morning wood is poking out of your boxers and let her in
last call before update soon!
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"Uhhhhh! Here, come on in!"

Mood: https://bruceleekix.bandcamp.com/track/righteous-minds

You say this bolting towards your room upstairs, a stiff breeze on your thigh as you climb the stairs like mad. LIKE MAD. You hear Becca giggling downstairs and the sound of your creaky door closing.

"So uhhhhh, what are you doing here?!"

You shout this downstairs while you find a pair of pants on the ground and try to fit into them, seemingly dancing around your room. You gotta be making a hell of a ruckus.

"I'll tell you when you get down from there! Ya big doofus!"

Another giggle. God. Dammit.

Slapping on your faded off brown pants and plain black tshirt, you head downstairs. She made herself at home, sitting on your couch. You catch a glimpse down her shirt and oh god oh no she looked up at you as you did that jesus christ.

She's wearing a long sleeve button up, wearing black rimmed glasses, and her reddish-brown hair is in a ponytail. She's also wearing a skirt, a nice off-red color to match her hair and outfit. Shit did it just get hot in here?

You get downstairs and sit down next to her, and JUST as you sit down you knew you forgot something.

"You want something to drink? I was just about to make some coffee."

"Sure, that'd be nice."

She nods and stares at you for a while. She leans back on the couch as you stand up. She crosses her legs.

You really used the coffee as an excuse to get up because you forgot your phone in your room. You do a quick little jog to the kitchen and start up the machine.

"So if you recall, I work at an organic market. And I was just going door to door to advertise that we are looking for hires, as well as talking about what we're about and other stuff."

She says this to you as you jog up the stairs.

"Oh, that's pretty neat!"

Your long range retort lands. Another glimpse and descend.

"How do you like your coffee?"

You shout this from the kitchen loudly. You personally are a fan of doctored up with plenty of cream and sugar.

"Straight up!"

She says this with a confidence.

A few moments later and you sit down beside her once more, putting her coffee in front of her and yours in front of you. You finally get a moment to spread your arms and relax as normal. Oh god one of your arms is around her now. Just play it cool. Shit.

"So where do you work again?"

She says this inching closer to you just a little bit, but you notice.

"I'm not sure if I did. I work down by southside in construction. It's kind of shit."

"I dunno, maybe you need a change of pace?"

She reaches down her left ass pocket and leans into you. She hands you a brochure. You know she was never trying to get you to work there. She just wanted to lean into you.

"Your arm's looking better I just noticed!"

She blurts out, gesturing for your right hand to come closer. She moves your fingers individually, and she's right. You can even rotate your wrist and damn her hands feel nice.


"But yeah, I mean I'm only just getting started. I could just take a break. They wouldn't mind."

She gives you a wink and tugs on your shirt collar.

Oh god.

>Give in
>Resist temptation
>>Resist temptation

For we are saving our virginity for marriage.
Spill our spaghetti and run off to the kitchen. Tell her mom is gonna be home soon
>Resist temptation
I am a good boy.

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Mood: https://bruceleekix.bandcamp.com/track/bun-n-cheese

"Oh man, I just remembered something!"

You say this standing up suddenly trying best to hide your "below the belt" damage. Checking your phone, you realize you gotta be at work fucking soon. Like so soon the train that would get you there is getting ready to pull out of the station. Time is not on your side.

You look back down and see Becca biting her bottom lip and standing up in front of you.

"Well, I guess I'll get going, tough guy."

She looks you up and down one more time and gives you a kiss on the cheek. You blush and your mouth falls open. She’s fuckin’ magic, you swear.

She walks away shaking her ass just a little too obviously and turns back.

“Have a nice day at work. See ya later!”

She throws one more wink your way and you are straight up paralyzed for a solid ten seconds. Jesus. Oh wait fuck we got shit to do.

You run upstairs and grab your boots and a jacket, throw them on, and jet out the door, not stopping to check out your hair or anything for that matter.

You feel your heart racing and your legs pumping under you. It hurts, because you just yesterday ran suicides that would kill an average motherfucker.

You feel yourself wavering as you approach the station. This still feels like a very solid workout and you’re fucking flying.

Ah shit, it looks like there’s some sort of protest for some shit. And people are crowding the fucking streets.

Shit shit shit.



>Check out what the protest is about.


>Roll 1d20 + EVASION (2) vs. 18 Bo3

Rolled 18 (1d20)

Rolled 20 (1d20)

nicely done.
you're not so bad yourself ;)
huh. whaddya know.
Rolled 2 (1d20)

Here's the roll you ordered. This one is a freebie.

Whoops I'm a big dumb idiot baby. Writing soon.
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Deftly, you dodge through the crowd, bobbing and weaving so quickly no one even stopped and realize you were there. The chanting fades out behind you as you make incredible time and board the train just as the doors close, and not a moment too soon. The sliding air cushioned steel closes at a rubber stopper thumping behind you. You lean back onto the now closed doors. You're hardly winded.





You find your seat and settle in, wiping the sweat off your forehead.

Popping in your earbuds, you're in the mood to let the trees and buildings pass you by and enjoy a refreshing tune.


You got a lot to think about, like Becca, your mom and all sorts of other shit. Donny is so fuckin' quiet. You wonder if Poole expects you today? Those were some good noodles.

Looking at your phone, you see a notification. Oh shit. It's fucking Richard!


Oh my gosh this is crazy. You haven't spoken to this guy in years!

He replied earlier today, probably during that whole coffee fiasco. You reached out a bit ago with a "Hey dude what's up? Where you been?" and never expected him to reply. Dude just straight disappeared.

Still, HE'S BACK! Oh my god. He comes back with "Hey dude! Guess what, I'm in FUCKING CANADA! I'm a working man doing what I love!"

>"Doing what man?"
>"Why Canada? hahaha"

Feel free to ask plenty of questions to me about him or to him and I will incorporate them probably.
>Doing what, man?
>>"Doing what man?"
Is it oil? Resource extraction was hot in Canada until just recently.
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"Doing what, man?"

You know it's gotta be some crazy shit. Richard could never ever slow down. Sent.

The next comes on and it's almost too perfect.


Waiting a few moment you think back to a time when you were happier. It was you, Sam, and Richard, and you found some junkyard and were looking through it to find anything and everything. You and Sam were looking through some care that probably used to belong to an old lady, and Richard was off somewhere else. he'd yell for you both and wave you over, finding all sorts of shit from a really beat up Bently.

Some fake pearl necklaces you'd sell later, a nice watch made of fool's gold. Tacky shit for a nice car. But it was yours for the taking.

It was all yours.


"I'm a stunt actor. I'm out here in Vancouver shooting a movie. I get to jump away from explosions for a FUCKIN LIVING DUDE!"

"OMG that's awesome."

You fuckin' called it. What a monster! Oh man...


"Yeah dude. Got so much shit to do it's crazy out here. I get to travel lots. hahaha

heard you're about to do some crazy shit yourself!"

Oh? He heard about this small time fight?

"What? No way! just some smalltime fight. how u hear about it?"

You rushed a little bit on the last part there, but it's shocking. How do so many people know about this?


"Some old buds from Chi, you know. You up for it?"

Aw yee, you know ya boi, imma beat dat nigga ass so bad his granmomma gon feel dat shit
Ayy nigga I'm down like a clown ya dig

Do people really get scared away by write-ins?

Not scared. Been busy all day. Will return later. Sorry!

If you are talking about players, I have no clue lmao
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You give it some thought.

"Aw yeah you know we bout to kill it. Nigga gon feel so hurt his granmomma gon get hit."

Hitting the send button, you think there probably needs to be an addendum. Shit may have changed so much, you might have turned out that braggy or whatever.




You think back a day to when Jim was killing it wit the LL COOL J. If it wasn't for the bumpin' tunes of "Momma Said" you would have been gassed way sooner. Shit maybe you should call Poole to see when you should come back in. You're sore as fuck, but a fight is a fight and a week is a week.


"Hell yeah motherfucker! Hahah. Id love to make it out there man. We wrap shoot Wednesday"

Holy shit that'd be nuts, oh man you got so much shit to share with him. You go on back and forth for a number of stops, explaining to him all sorts of shit. You talked about Becca and he didn't remember her either. He says go for it. Goddamn Richard what a MONSTER. You told him about the gang shit and what's been going on with that.

"Didn't they have some fronts or something?"


"What do ya mean?"

Ah shit, the train pulled in and you got shit to do.

You quickly fire off a "gtg, talk soon dude!" and hop up from your seat. You got just enough time to get to the site. Jogging with a purpose, the wind hits your face and you feel like you're getting a better handle on shit now. Way better than last night. Shit was a wreck.

As you approach the site where construction was meant to begin, something's not right. You expected the ringing of nails against hammers and wood setting into place. You expected the yelling of construction workers and the moving of timber. The sound of work. But all you got was nothing.

Fucking nothing.

Rounding the corner to the site, the piles of wood are still there, the portas they set up are still standing, but not a single soul in sight.

What the fuck?

It's about 9:30 AM. Shit should be in full swing.

[Map attached.]

>Call manager
>Wait around for a bit.
>Knock on the portapotty
It might be El Desmadre.
Waiting for more input!
yea leave, we probably forgot it's a holiday or weekend or some shit
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You look around and there's not a damn thing in sight. Sun shining and a nice, breezy 64 degrees, and there's not even a child out playing. Back when you were younger, an open lot like this mean we had some shit to climb on and a place to hang out at. On a day like today? A place like this? Fucking nothing?

You decide to go ahead and jet. Maybe you forgot it's a holiday or weekend or some shit. Whatever it is, your time is better spent else where.

You head back down the block towards upper 7th and close your eyes. Shit all that running and for nothing but a...


What's the noise?

Mood: https://youtu.be/8wXRvvGr8Ug

It sounds like voices, but whispers. It's somewhere off in a nearby alleyway.

*tink tink*

It's the sound of aluminum hitting concrete. Or maybe it's the sound of a dumpster getting tapped. Maybe your paranoia got the better of you, but this is just so fuckin' crazy. You peek around the corner. The alleyway looks normal, grungy. It's damp and shaded. At the end of the alley is the exit to the opposite street leading out towards the lot you were just in, but that's not what catches your eye.

Dressed from head to toe in black are two El Desmadre fuckers. They are only made noticeable by their aluminum bat shining dimly off the sun's rays. Otherwise you may have missed them all together.

It looks like they haven't turned around yet. Who knows what these fuckers will do if they get away. You got the jump, right? But shit dude, you're not trying to get your ass beat, and Poole isn't gonna help you. He's 5 blocks or so away, and his ass ain't running.

On the ground near you there's some bottles. The alley is average size, and a really small car could maybe fit through it. No one's around.

>Improvise a weapon.
>Call/text someone and ask for help
>Get the fuck out
>Go the fuck in
>Write in


Also I went ahead and made a discord that will be in all future OPs. If you wanna keep up for when I'm running and updating and stuff, idle in here! https://discord.gg/8n4Ya2H

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It's time to go Macgyver. Fashion a pair of explosive nunchucks out of the bottles, your shoelaces, that cherry bomb you hide up your ass for emergencies, a pushbike, and a brick.

Then unleash your inner fury.
>Improvise a weapon.
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They’re not gonna see this shit coming. Oh no they are NOT about to see this shit coming. You reach down and carefully grab a few of the bottles on the ground without making too much of a sound. A trick you used to do as a kid was tieing bottles together with your shoelace and throwing them at people like bolas. Or just using them like nunchucks or some shit like you were straight up MacGyver. (That’s how you got that scar that one time.)

Realizing it would take forever to try and take off your shoelace, and you probably need your shoes secured for the GODDAMN THUNDER you’re about to lay down, you decide to use the bottles as they are.

Sneaking through the alley, so very carefully, they keep glancing around the corner. These fuckers were probably expecting you, but who’s got the jump now?

Step by step, inch by inch. That’s close enough. You decide it’s time for some payback.

Carefully reaching into your pocket, you hit shuffle, take out your buds, and let your phone sit on a nearby fusebox.



They both turn around and scramble. You chuck the bottle straight at the first guy. SLAM. Right in the facemask! That’s gonna fuckin’ hurt!

“Yeah FUCK YOU!”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You just have this fucking anger, this swelling of emotions all pouring out of you. You felt like when you threw that bottle, you saw it shatter the moment of impact. You feel alive.

The guy with the bat is not too happy about his friend getting floored, he charges you and he is about to let it swing loose. You smile. Maybe you’re smiling because this is your therapy for last night. Hell those shoes look familiar, but it’s not like you could have even gotten a good look. Doesn’t matter. This is your fight, and this fuckface is going down!

He swings from the right hand side, putting all he’s got into it. Here we go!

>If you chose DODGE, Roll 1d20 + 2 (EVA) vs. 18
>If you chose BRACE, Roll 1d20 + 1 (END)
>Read below to understand Counter Crosses

During a fight, you got options. Your defensive options like Bracing and Dodging. Your offensive options like your FISTS. But there’s one more option now. The COUNTER CROSS.

If ever you are defending and you want to change who’s turn it is, you can expend one counter cross. This will perfectly parry and respond to one attack. If ever you are fighting and you whiff, you can expend one counter cross to reset your Speed counter and attack again immediately. You can always spend one unless otherwise denoted.

You gain counter crosses outside of the fight, because these moments of clarity come from you fighting for something or someone. You can’t train for these! You gotta live it.

Counter cross this bitch ass nigga, fuck getting hit with a bat ever again if we can help it
Rolled 13 (1d20)

Rolled 10 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>>If you chose BRACE, Roll 1d20 + 1 (END)
BRACE, and close with the guy.
Got one for each! After two for any option, that option is locked. Need three rolls. Still monitoring!

Will make new thread after this fight, as autosage is going nuts.
Rolled 17 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

I second this guy. Brace!

Nice! One more roll for brace for impact.

Will alter the system soon enough.
>for a baseball bat impact
Y'all niggers retarded, we did that last time and fucked our arm up. Now we're gonna get the same arm fucked up worse.
Hey, if we dodged and failed, it would be even worse
how does bracing affect the damage done to us?
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It is basically a way of dampening it. Say you didn't brace that bat last time? Your arm would be fucked entirely. No fight, broken arm, dead arm. Instead you ended up kept on thanks to it. Though because it was an average defense, it still gave you something top think about for a few days.
I need one more rollm but if I don't get it, I'll just roll with it, no problem. Typing regardless in 15 minutes.
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Here we go again! The batter swings and you brace for impact. You flash back to the alleyway, the first time. You see it coming. Clear as day this time. His footing is off, he wavers as he lifts. Bring it.

He swings and connects on your shoulder, but pushing through, you lift into it setting yourself up for a perfect hook, vibrations rippling through his hands through the aluminum. His eyes widen. Your eyes focus.

The look on your face betrays how much it hurts, but turning and leaning put the blow behind the socket, keeping you mobile and ready. It’ll be sore, but you soldier on.

You let out a scream, but not one of pain or anguish, but of clarity and fury. You wind up a punch. You’ve never felt more alive. He knows he’s about to feel the thunder.

Time stands still for just a moment. Thinking back to last night. Thinking back to the alleyway. You get a feeling in your stomach, as if you just peaked a rollercoaster at 3 Mile Island. This fist you’re making is gonna make things right. The force behind it is what’s gonna end this shit. Let’s do this.

>USE COUNTER CROSS? (Will guarantee at least a hit (still rolled for) AND will give you another turn.)

Select the action first, then when I ask for a roll, do so.
Fuck him. He gonna have an inward pointing nose.
fist him


>Roll 1d20 + 1 (Force)

Rolled 7 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

Rolled 6 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

Mama said knock you out

Yikes! Y'all got one more shot to lay the smack down.
Rolled 13 + 1 (1d20 + 1)


Writing soon! Stay tuned.
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You feel something pulsing through you. The fist you form could break fucking concrete. You’re ready. Your phone shuffles.


FUCK YES. Slamming your fist outward, the force guiding your muscles feels amazing. Like your joints are greased with straight up oil. He’s stammering from the vibrations in the split second you lunge and he tries to duck it at the last possible moment.

You drive your fist on, not deterred. You can feel the tension in the air, and you’re ready to burst.


The upper bridge of his nose concaves in making a crushing crunch sound. It’s muted, but it’s there. Split seconds fly by. The man in the facemask and black hoodie whose features typically indecipherable, is in fucking pain.

He’s knocked on his ass, sitting up, propped against the wall nearby. On the decline, he banged his head against the wall, making a satisfying CONK sound. Shit yeah.

You’re a little beat up, and your fist just hit bone, but man, you feel electric. You exhale using the breathing techniques you looked up on the train.

This punch will leave you open, but man it will floor someone not ready.
During a fight, if you call a haymaker punch, fucking up will cost you speed/turn placement, but a success will stammer and possibly floor your opponents!

Looking over to his buddy…


Fuck where’d he go?

A trail of blood track him around the corner they were just peeking around, towards the opposite street and away from the open lot. What a fucking dick! The man propped next to you sighs and is trying to shake himself up. He’s seeing stars, but he’s not in the business of staying down.

“You piece of SHIT.”
You kick the man on the ground next to you in the stomach, winding him and making him double over.


Sheesh, some people, man.

Grabbing your phone, still blasting, and throwing that shit in your pocket, you got options now.

knock out the dude on the ground and then chase the other guy
"If I take that mask off, will you die?"
damn that's good
Also, pick up the baseball bat from the guy we just beat up.
Jam to some grooves: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ar4_sqtxFMQ
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“I’ll take that.”

You bend down and say that while taking the bat. Your freshly injured friend lets out an eloquent response.


“Couldn’ta said it better myself. Looks like it was VERY PAINFUL. I’ll be back shortly.”

You stand up with a spring in your step and toss the bat with a twirl towards you. It’s got some dried blood on it and it’s a bit rusty, but it’ll do for now. Gotta use what you can, right? Keep those fuckers guessin’.

Grabbing it with your right hand, and rushing around the corner, it’s time to jam.

“Hey fucker!”

You yell this down the alleyway to the right, jogging down a short ways and ending up in the center of the narrow path. You find something very concerning. Swallowing, you say something that about sums it up.



A dark gray truck at the end of the alley, driven by mister bloody bottle just got revved up, and you’re in the fucking way. The brakes skid out and rev up.


Oh shit shit SHIT SHIT!

He comes flying at you and you’re paralyzed for a brief moment. Shaking yourself out of it, it’s time to act fast!


In front of you to your left is the lot you came from, surrounded by a fence. To the right forward is a building. Behind you is the alley you came from and to your right is the alley the man in the truck is occupying.

>SHIT! (Roll back to the alley you came from.)
>FUCK! (Try and climb the fence to escape.)
>AAAAHHH! (Press yourself against the ground to dodge the truck.)
>RAAAAHH!!! (Throw your bat at the fucking truck to ice that fucker.)
>Write in!
N-NYEEEERGH! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHqgpB-qXLs)

Or alternatively, RAAAAAHHHHH!
>HADOUKEN! (Channel your qi into your palms and shoot an energy ball at the fucker)
Really though probably RAAAAHH!!! then SHIT! and jump in a dumpster or climb a fire escape ladder if he's gaining on us
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In the immortal words of Chuck D, "HERE WE GO AGAIN."


You grab your bat and quickly javelin that fucker straight at the truck. As it escapes your grasp you realize that it's a little topheavy and does a funky, wobbly spin. No time to think on that, just gotta focus.

How much power you put behind that badboy?

>Roll 1d20 + 1(Force) FOR THE THROW


>Roll 1d100 + 46 vs. 110 FOR ACCURACY

I'm trying out this new stat and roll. Maybe good? Who can say?

A word on stats next OP and what I'm doing behind the scenes.

Probably last update for now. Will return here in about 11 hours? Around 4 PM Eastern.

>All rolls are Bo3!
Rolled 2 (1d20)

Rolled 45 + 46 (1d100 + 46)

is there a way to do multiple dice with different numbers of sides in a single post?

Nope, and it sucks!
Rolled 18 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

First roll
Rolled 79 + 46 (1d100 + 46)

Rolled 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1 = 20 (20d1)

Rolled 3 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

fucked that one up
Rolled 31 + 46 (1d100 + 46)

god fucking damnit
I guess we're using these...
20 and 125, that's pretty good.

Yeah we are! Writing now. Hold onto your butt!

>19, 125


Tossing that hollow metal felt great leaving your hands, as the worn leather grip felt smooth escaping your fingertips. The rush of air going past your arm felt just right, even though you have sleeves on. It feels like that fucker’s gonna fly for a mile.

Letting it loose and hearing a slight ringing of air rush past the aluminum frame, it’s got some real fucking force. The driver sees this coming, panics, and tries to brake. No use. This little piece of FUCK-YOU is headed straight for your face.


IT SLAMS RIGHT INTO THE WINDSHIELD! Looks like it either hit that fucker or scared him too. Gotta go check the damages probably. Maybe it hit him, maybe he’s still recovering from shock. Who knows? The one thing you do know is that bat put a fuckin’ puncture in that laminated glass.

In the moments before impact you could see his panic. He was driving like he was trying to escape, and honestly, you weren’t sure if this whole bat thing was gonna work, but you had a backup plan, and a boxer doesn’t need to rely on shit other than his will and...

Ugh, not again. The idiot in the alley is trying to get back up. You really wish he wouldn’t.

You get a text message. Of all the times to get a text message. This isn’t some shit where you could just be like, “Hold on for a sec, thanks.” and the gangsters will be all, “Oh yeah sure, we’ll wait.” Dammit.

Again, you’re left with options.

>Check the text.
>Check the damage.
>Check the guy in the alleyway against the wall.
>Check the fuck out. (Leave.)
>Check it. (Write in)
>Check the guy in the alleyway against the wall.
then take care of car guy
I can dig it
>Check the guy in the alleyway against the wall.
He's jam.
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Keep 'em coming!

I have to go run a quick errand. be back soon. Will write when back!
Wallcheck alleyway dude and tell him if he try anymo shit you gon hit his nose again n keep hitting till the nigga lookin like Voldemort
I'm back! Writing...
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Okay, fuck the text, no time for that shit. Fuck that motherfucker in the truck. He can sit there for a hot second. The man in the alley nearest you is catching your ire right now, and man he’s in for a fucking treat.
You run pull a quick 180, turn left and see the man standing up, blood making his already black facemask darker. His eyes widen again, seeing you coming around the corner and he stumbles, missing traction on a few steps.

Then he fucking bolts.


God fucking dammit. Just what you needed at a time like this. You don’t know where the siren’s coming from but you think it’s behind you down the street. Someone must have heard and got scared. Shit shit shit.

Meanwhile, dude in the alley who was about to get fucking rocked by a bootheel or an elbow, is now making his way out the alley.

Time stands still for a moment. You hear the truck behind you growl and pull away amidst all this. Fucker must of thrown it in reverse the second you turned around. What a piece of shit!


You let out an angry yell. Did I say angry? Sorry, I meant YOU’RE FUCKING PISSED.

WELL! You’ve got options. Again.

>FUCK. (Chase after bolting guy from alley. Maybe you catch up to him?)
>GOD DAMMIT. (Hop the fence and get the fuck outta this shit show.)
>SHIIIIIIT. (Run back around the alley to the left. That car’s not getting away.)
>I’M DONE. DONE! (Run left around the corner and bolt yourself.)
>>GOD DAMMIT. (Hop the fence and get the fuck outta this shit show.)
Sirens, boys. Playtime just ended.
God dommot
>GOD DAMMIT. (Hop the fence and get the fuck outta this shit show.)
Well, we aren't staying here any longer.

Right, let’s blow this shit show.

You think back to the gym, and how Jim had this smug look playing some extremely cliche song. You feel like if he were here right now and had some sort of magic boombox, he’d play something like… oh I don’t know…



The man hobble-sprinting down the alley is bolting and is about to round the corner. Fuck him, this party’s over, and you’d rather not be here to deal with that. Maybe the cops will pick him up? Who cares. Focus.

The scent of dirty, shitty alleyway is left behind as you rush past the corner and quickly glance to your right, seeing the last glimpses of a man with a bat DIRECTLY in his face. His brakes screech as he pulls away. The sirens are getting louder and louder. Focus.

Jerking your head to the left, it’s time to channel your training. You remember how your muscles and your joints were working like a well-oiled machine, and you were straight up FLYING off the wall in the gym. Time to put that shit to the test.

You launch yourself right up to the fence, clinging to it with all your might. Your arms feel weak, but your legs could probably lift a car. The wiring of the fence is cold on this brisk day. You don’t feel it.

In one solid lunge, you lift yourself up and over the fence. The air hits your face…

as you flop to the ground. Nice.

Getting back on your feet, dusting yourself off, and popping your neck, you jog away from the scene of the crime, casually but with a purpose. Don’t want to draw even MORE ATTENTION to your shit show.

Jesus fuck, that was a mess. But it felt pretty good.

Checking your phone finally, you see you have a text from Richard.

“Did you see the news?”

Oh jeez.

It’s about 10 AM and change. What are you gonna do now? You’re sort of just chillin’ in an empty lot. What the fuck was that? You should maybe call your boss? Why is no one here? What the fuck is going on, basically?

>Respond to Richard (Write in response.)
>Call boss.
>Head back to the station and head elsewhere. (Where?)

Lost progress on this update a gorillion times. sorry
>Respond to Richard (Write in response.)
>Call boss.
>Head back to the station and head to the gym
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Here is a "helpful" map of what went down. I will start the new thread based on the response.

Any critiques or feedback welcome by the way!

Questions about the world as well.

Thanks so much for bearing with me. I'm having a blast.

What do you respond with?
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"What news?"
Forming the OP and formatting some good stuff. You'll see ACT 4 SOON.

I killed the discord and am instead making a twitter for this stuff.

Follow me here https://twitter.com/qstMoofin
why though
not enough interest in the discord?

yeah, and a twitter is convenient in it's own way

it's all good though


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