>>1267941
Hadim el-Farran

>>1267941
>Alice MacIntyre

>>1267941
>Lt. Constance Michels

>>1267941
Sadie Burrows -

>>1267941
Alice

>>1267941
>Alice MacIntyre

>>1267949
>>1267978
>>1267980

>Alice MacIntyre, Intrepid Reporter, and Champion of the People!

>Writing.

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>>1267941

Alice. That's right, you're Alice MacIntyre, Intrepid Reporter. Your father was a Scot and your mother an Italian, and you were raised in the city of Columbus, Ohio. Ever since you were a little girl you always admired the reporters that got into the thick of things, the ones that flew into danger to publish the TRUTH. You wanted to be Lois Lane or Charles Kane, not Supergirl or Batman.

And right now you ache all over, staring up into the shaft above you. The sides of the shaft are smooth concrete, and there appears to be blood spattered from... something landing there, messily.

Groaning, you push yourself up with your elbows, and look around the bottom of the pit. Still-wet blood pools under you, and you swear, standing up hastily. That's fucking disgusting! Doing your best to shake the blood off, you check yourself. No broken bones, apparently.

Nearby, a shadowy form lies, and it groans, giving you a start. You're not alone down here! Hurrying over to the figure, you bend down and shake the person's shoulder.

"Hey, hey! Get up! My name's Alice, Reporter for the Columbus Gazette. Do you know where we are? Who are you, by the way?"

The figure groans, and sits up.

"My name's...."

Sam Alexander -
Male, 22-year-old baseball player from Melbourne, Florida.
>+2 Wounds
>Brawler: +5 to Melee Combat

Bruce Connors -
Male, 60-year-old dockworker from Boston, Massachusetts.
>+3 Wounds
>Manual Labor: +5 to Heavy Lifting

Hadim el-Farran -
Male, 27-year-old chemistry teacher from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
>+1 Wound
>Chemist: +5 to Chemistry


Lt. Constance Michels -
Female, 52-year-old ex-Marine from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
>+3 Wounds
>Old Soldier: +5 to Guns

Sadie Burrows -
Female, 21-year-old gymnast from Miami, Florida.
>+1 Wound
>Gymnast: +5 to Acrobatics

>>1268048
Constance

Also, so we're Piper, huh?

>>1268048
>Bruce Connors -

>>1268048
>Sam Alexander
Bannco

>>1268048
>Lt. Constance Michels -

>>1268048
>Lt. Constance Michels -
Too be honest, having the big guns around makes me feel safe.

>>1268057
I'll switch to Bruce

>>1268048
>Lt. Constance Michels

>Lt. Constance Michels

>Writing.

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>>1268048

".... Constance, darlin'. And I'm sorry to say that I haven't the slightest clue as to where we are."

Sighing, you hold out a hand, and she takes it, pulling herself up. "Although I dislike it already, what with the blood everywhere and all."

Turning around, you see if there's any way out of here. Luckily, there is, a darkened hallway with the words [LOADING DOCK] stenciled on it with black paint. In the concrete hallway, a lightbulb flickers, and you glance at Constance skeptically, who shrugs.

You sigh, and say, "Might as well, it's the only way, and we might find out what the hell this place is."

Walking forward, you keep an eye out for anything sketchy (no easy task in this dim light,) and ask Constance, "So, Constance, where are you from? Somewhere in the South?"

She nods. "Yep, I'm from Baton Rouge, moved to Noorleans to join the Marines. Last thing I remember is meetin' an old war buddy of mine in a diner, reminiscing about the old days. What about you?"

You peer into the darkness ahead, blinking. Did something just move? Anyways, you shake off the thought. This place is creepy as hell, but it looks abandoned. No way anything was there.

Thinking back, you try to remember what happened before you woke up at the bottom of a bloody pit.

>"I was investigating reports into a factory near Cincinnati, apparently people were going missing near it."
>"I was writing an expose' on a steel mill that uses cheap immigrant labor."
>"I was looking into a Professor of History that had gone insane and started shooting up his class."
>Write-in.

>>1268149
>>>"I was investigating reports into a factory near Cincinnati, apparently people were going missing near it."

>>1268149
>"I was investigating reports into a factory near Cincinnati, apparently people were going missing near it."

>>1268149
>"I was investigating reports into a factory near Cincinnati, apparently people were going missing near it."

>>1268149
>>"I was investigating reports into a factory near Cincinnati, apparently people were going missing near it."

>>1268149
Why was there even a choice? lol That was the most fitting and intriguing by a significant margin.

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>>1268165

>>1268165
>>1268168
I vote history professor, he probably discovered some eldritch horror and went mad.

Clearly outvoted, just saying it was actually a choice.

>>1268174
I think there's a book about that.

>"I was investigating reports into a factory near Cincinnati, apparently people were going missing near it."

>Writing.

>>1268178
>>1268174
Oh Im stupid. The Shadow Out of Time, by Lovecraft himself.
Similar.

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17290290-the-shadow-out-of-time

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>>1268149

"I was investigating reports into a factory near Cincinnati, apparently people were going missing near it."

Constance raises an eyebrow. "Certainly sounds like somethin' someone might want to keep hidden."

Nodding, you begin to connect the dots. "If I was getting close to something, I could've almost had a breakthrough!" Looking at Constance, you almost bounce with excitement. "I was almost there!"

Counting with your fingers, you begin to list off your leads one by one. "The property belonging to Lombardi Acquisitions, mostly drifters and homeless people going missing, and people being seen in and on the property! If I had gotten onto the site, I'm sure I would've had the scoop!"

Constance chuckles and shakes her head. "I don't think I have heard anyone call it a 'scoop' for years. Yer a hoot, Alice."

Humming, you walk along the darkened hallway. The lighting is dim, but there are lights placed regularly along the corridor, fortunately. In another stroke of luck, the blood seems to have receded, and the floor is dry. Shaking off your boots, you continue, walking beside Constance.

That's when you hear it.

A clatter.

Looking down the hallway, you see a binder on the floor, dropped from shelves along the wall in front of a well-lit door. It seems to have fallen on its' own, but it still spooks you slightly. Approaching the folder, you hold it in your hands. What should you do with it?

>(Read it now, while you have the light overhead.) Roll 1d20, BO3
>(Hold it, save it for later, while you figure out where you are.)
>Write-in.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>1268231
>>(Read it now, while you have the light overhead.)
I mean, I see no reason not to do it now. Unless you're saying it's going to take a while to finish.

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>1268231
I'm compelled to just put it back down and not play to whoever's game. I've always wondered what would happen if characters in a horror movie would ignore the baits.

But I'll bite.

>(Read it now, while you have the light overhead.) Roll 1d20, BO3

>>1268231
Shit, add a +5 to that 1d20 roll.

Rolled 6 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>1268231
>(Read it now, while you have the light overhead.) Roll 1d20, BO3

Rolled 18 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>1268240
>Read it now

Rolled 5 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>1268238
Oops.

>>1268231
>>(Hold it, save it for later, while you figure out where you are.)

>Read it now.
>23

God damn, nice.

>Writing.

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>>1268231

Opening the binder, you look at the first page. "Loading dock list, March 2008". Flipping from page to page, you absorb the information as fast as your brain can process it.

"2 males, died on impact, March 1st."

"1 female, crippled on impact, March 5th."

"1 male and 1 canine male, died on impact, March 8th."

"3 males and 2 females, males died, one female crippled, March 9th."

It goes on like this for pages, never describing them in much detail, but it's just enough to be worrying. People... throw people down here? And keep lists of their victims? This is fucked.

The lists remain spread out, taking place over the month of March, until the 22nd.

"30 males and 1 female, died on impact, 22nd." Next to the sentence is a little star, and a personal note. Next time, can we please do this on the 21st? Being late has its' consequences, even if you don't feel them. -Mngmt.

Disturbed, you put the binder back on the shelf, and contemplate the information. Is this a list of... sacrifices? And what about the much larger number on the 22nd? What could all this mean?

Seeing your troubled look, Constance asks, "Problem, Alice?"

You slowly nod. "Many, many people have died here. Each binder is a list for victims of a specific month, going back years. Why would anyone do this?"

Constance shrugs. "Dunno. Probably some cult shit. Get stuff like it all the time in the bayou, my police buddy tells me. Anyways, let's move on. I don't want to stay in one place. This place already gave me a bad vibe, and that knowledge didn't help any."

Patting a bulge at her waist, beneath her coat, she says, "Don't worry. Anything happens, I got my revolver."

Comforted slightly, you move forward to open the door, when you hear a loud, metallic CLANG from the other side. Sharing a look with Constance, you grab the door handle, and throw the door open, spilling light into the room.It's... an actual loading dock? What the fuck?

Walking in cautiously, you look around. There are crates and concrete debris everywhere, and one of the loading doors appears to be open, but otherwise, nothing's here. To your right, dead forklifts lead the way into a pitch-black tunnel.

What could've made that sound?

>Roll 1d20 + 5

Rolled 20 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>1268316
P-probably just the wind

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>>1268328
Mah nigga

>>1268328
oof yes

No real reason to roll BO3. Calling right here.

>25

>Writing.

>>1268335
>BO3
what is this?

>>1268337
Best of three

>>1268337

Best Of 3

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>>1268316


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYDsSJJSfLs

Scanning the room, you look in every nook and cranny for anything that could've caused the sound. But you see nothing, at first. Then, you see him.

Caked with dust, and behind a pile of debris, a raggedy man sits, staring at you from behind cracked glasses.

Pointing him out to Constance, you slowly approach him.

"Hey, I'm Alice, who-"

You're cut off by the man standing straight up and screaming at you.

"FLESH SPIDERS FLESH SPIDERS FLESH SPIDERS GET AWAY THE CACOPHONY OF YOUR COMMUNIST BRAIN-SIGNALS IS DEAFENING GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT"

You raise your hands and begin to back away, but the man starts following you, scampering on all fours.

"YOUR COMMUNIST BRAIN SIGNALS ARE DEAFENING I MUST CUT THEM OUT WITH MY SHINY KNIFE, DON'T WORRY, I'M A SURGEON"

He raises a pocket knife, and rushes at you.

>Roll 2d20, BO3.

Rolled 20, 1 = 21 (2d20)

>>1268359

>>1268362
What is this roll?

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>>1268362
That's a nice 20-
>1

.....

>>1268362
Complete polar opposite rolls

Rolled 6, 10 = 16 (2d20)

>>1268359

Rolled 1, 6 = 7 (2d20)

>>1268366
Let's try and save that one.

>Alice: 20
>Constance: 1

THE FUCK ARE THESE ROLLS

>Writing.

>>1268359

As the babbling man comes towards you, Constance steps in front of you, interposing herself between you and the crazy man. Pulling up the pistol in one swift motion, she tries to shoot the man, but he's quicker than expected, and bats the gun out of her hands clumsily.

Grunting, Constance grabs his knife-hand, but he's stronger than he appears, with strength borne of insanity. Bearing down on her, the crazy man drives his knife home into her gut.

>[CRIT] -2 Wounds
>Constance is now at 1 Wound.

While this happens, you're diving for the gun, and picking it off the floor, you turn to see Constance get stabbed. Raising the gun, and pointing it at the man's head, you shout, "Over here, fuckface! C'mere!"

Twitching, and pulling out the knife, the raggedy man growls, and says, "NAUGHTY WORD NAUGHTY WOR-" You cut him off by shooting him in the head, twice.

Rushing to Constance, you kneel by her side. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Constance, can you hear me? Are you still alive?"

Constance groans and tries to push herself up. "Yep, I can hear you just fine, darlin'. Hurts like a bitch, tho."

Frantically looking around, you say, "I'll, I'll help you. I'll stop the bleeding. Or something."

>(Try and find a first aid kit)
>(Use a shirt as a makeshift bandage.)
>(Leave the wound, get moving.)
>Write-in.

>>1268438
>>(Use a shirt as a makeshift bandage.)
>(Try and find a first aid kit)

Stop the bleeding first, just in case we don't find one.

>>1268438
>(Try to find a first aid kit)
We're good at finding things, right?

>>1268438
>(Use a shirt as a makeshift bandage.)

>>1268438
>Use Shirt
>Apply pressure to the wound.

Stopping the bloodflow is the priority in this situation.

>>1268438
>>(Use a shirt as a makeshift bandage.)

>>1268438
>>(Use a shirt as a makeshift bandage.)

>(Use a shirt as a makeshift bandage.)

>Writing

Post is gonna be delayed by a bit, eating.

>>1268480
Oh, and

>Roll 1d20, Best of 3.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>1268483

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>1268483
ARE YOU READY FOR CRIT FAILS?

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>1268483

>>1268438

>18

"Oh God oh God um... Here."

Taking off your jacket, you take your shirt off, and press it against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Constance winces, but she doesn't make any other indication that she's in pain.

It takes a while for the wound to stop bleeding, but you manage it, soaking your shirt in her blood. "Raise your shirt please."

Constance complies, revealing her midsection. Holy hell, for an old lady, she's RIPPED. Anyways. Tying your shirt securely around her gut, you pull her shirt down, and stand up, putting your jacket back on.

Holding out a hand, you help Constance to her feet, and let her lean on you. She grumbles, and seems like she's about to refuse, but she stumbles, and thinks better of it.

"I'll be fine soon enough, I've seen men in the desert take worse and walk away. I'm just showing my age."

Shaking your head, you look around. There are several ways to go. The one open door at the loading dock, the pitch-black tunnel, and the closed doors at the loading dock. And there's always the way you came.

>Open door.
>Closed door 1.
>Closed door 2.
>Dark Tunnel.
>Turn back.

>>1268599
>Closed door 1.
And behind door number one is... a car!

>>1268599
Why do I feel like the safest bet is the dark tunnel?

>Dark Tunnel.

Gonna need a consensus. Extending the vote ten minutes.

>>1268599
>Closed door 1.

>>1268599

>Dark Tunnel.

>>1268599
Closed Door 1

Well then.
>Closed Door 1

>Writing.

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>>1268736
>>1268741
>>1268743
Shut up, Trick. Don't you have a quest to run?
lel
Still love you, baby.

>>1268743
Would you kindly fuck off?

>>1268745
>>1268747
Guys, don't interact with the troll.

>>1268747
not bioshock, but agreed.

>>1268706
Where are my mercenaries?

>>1268752
Yeah, but Bioshock does follow in with Ayn Rand themes in it.

File: Taylor Swift - Nazi 2.jpg (125 KB, 600x676)

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Taylor Swift is a fucking nazi alt right goddess.

Heil Victory. Heil Trump. Heil our people.

t. Taylor "Gas the Kikes" Swift

>>1268706
So now that that shit is over with, can we get on with the story?

>>1268939
Had to take a call, and, well, didn't want to post in the middle of that. Writing now.

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>>1268599

The pitch-black tunnel is a bad idea, and, well, the already-open door seems... suspicious. And you can't turn back now, can you?

"Constance, I'm going to open the first closed door, okay? You just lean against the wall, okay?"

Breathing heavily, she nods, and leans against the wall. Bending down, you grip the bottom of the door tightly, and PULL.

It's rusty, and something's jammed in the track, but it's like one of those garage doors, so, with enough shoving and cursing, you get it to stay up, leaving enough space for you and Constance to walk through.

"C'mon Connie." Letting her lean on you, you walk forward slowly, and she lets out a little laugh that turns into a cough.

"Heh... it's funny. All of my buddies in the squad called me Connie. Didn't know my name was Constance until we were on the way home."

Chuckling, even though it's mostly for her sake, you keep on the lookout for anything that could help. Walking along the smaller corridor, you eventually come to a well-lit set of stairs, with a dark doorway at the top.

>"Connie, wait here. I'm gonna go check this out, okay?"
>"Connie, we're going to try and make it up these stairs, okay?"
>Write-in.

>>1269023
>"Connie, we're going to try and make it up these stairs, okay?"
NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY

>>1269023

>"Connie, we're going to try and make it up these stairs, okay?"

>>1269023
>"Connie, we're going to try and make it up these stairs, okay?"

Splitting up is a recipe for disaster.

>>1269023
>>"Connie, we're going to try and make it up these stairs, okay?"

>"Connie, we're going to try and make it up these stairs, okay?"

>Roll a 1d4.

Rolled 1 (1d4)

>>1269079

Rolled 8 (1d14)

>>1269079

Rolled 2 (1d4)

>>1269094
Hopefully 4chan doesn't go full autist again.

Rolled 2 (1d4)

>>1269079

Rolled 1 (1d4)

>>1269079

Rolled 2 (1d4)

>>1269079

>2

>Writing.

Oh man I'm gonna love this bit.

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>>1269023

"Connie, we're going to try and make it up these stairs, okay?" Nodding, the older woman agrees with your statement.

"Good plan. Splitting up is always a bad plan, even when fighting goat-fuckers in the desert. Even when you're in full combat armor, you wanna stay with your group."

Helping her up the first step, you grunt, and ask, "So which country were you in? Afghanistan? Iraq?"

Shaking her head, she says, "Kuwait. Desert Storm. Yeah, I know, not as popular as that shit in Mozambique, I know. Anyways, after Desert Storm finished, I stuck around for a bit. Finished my second tour up in Palestine."

Getting up another step, you look at her in awe. Those were legendary places for war journalists, with the stories of blood and sand enrapturing the nation. "So, you're a real badass, huh?"

Scoffing, she shakes her head. "Nah, cher, I ain't. I got through by bein' smart and bein' tough. Not by 'action heroing' it up over there."

"Whatever you say, I think-"

THUD

"FUCK!"

THUD

"YA!"

THUD

"MOTHAFUCKA!"

Through the doorway at the top of the stairs, comes the sounds of violence and Bostonian cursing. Sharing a glance with Constance, you hustle up the stairs, where you see an old man in a white shirt and blue jacket beating the shit out of a man that looks as homeless and raggedy as the one that stabbed Constance.

As he slams the man into the concrete violently, you approach slowly, and he whips around quickly, wild-eyed.

>"Uhh, hi?"
>"Woah woah woah! Calm down, sir, we don't want any trouble."
>"Fucking try me! I dare you!"
>Write-in.

>>1269286
>"Uhh, hi?"

>>1269286
>>"Woah woah woah! Calm down, sir, we don't want any trouble."
Woah, nelly!

>>1269286
>"Fucking try me! I dare you!"

>>1269286
>"Uhh, hi?"

>>1269286
>>"Uhh, hi?"

>"Uhh, hi?"

>Writing

>>1269286

"Uhh, hi?"

The man, panting, looks you and Constance over, and nods.

"Hey."

Going to the body, and nudging it with his foot, he makes sure it isn't moving, and then looks to you. "You all want to stick togethah? First normal people ah've seen around here so far."

Looking the man over, you think about it. He does look pretty tough, although he is wild-looking. Your only worry is that he'll turn on you. Biting your lip, you look at Constance, who shrugs. As if sensing you indecision, the man speaks.

"Woke up in ah strange room outtah of nowhere, sound familiah? Faced a crazy mothahfuckah?" He points at Constance's wound. "One that stabbed her?"

You look at him oddly. "Yes, it does. How did you know?"

He grunts as he searches the mans' pockets. "It's what happened to me. You gonna let me join you or no?"

>"Well, seeing as you're the first friendly face we've seen, of course."
>"Sure, name's Alice and Constance. What's yours?"
>"Sure... as long as you don't do to me what you did to that guy."
>"No way, you just killed a man!"
>Write-in.

>>1269452
>>"Sure, name's Alice and Constance. What's yours?"

>>1269452
>"Well, seeing as you're the first friendly face we've seen, of course."

>>1269452
>"Sure... as long as you don't do to me what you did to that guy."

Gonna call the thread here. Open voting until the next session.

Thanks for playing!

>>1269528
Thanks for running, despite Trick's attempts to splash his autism on you.

>>1269528

It was a good read OP.

>>1269544

Who is Trick, and why does he troll?

>>1269457
>"Well, seeing as you're the first friendly face we've seen, of course."
>"name's Alice and Constance. What's yours?"