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>That took too long. Sorry everybody.

>You are Timothy Lawrence Johnson, a tax collector in service to the United States government through the Internal Revenue Service. Two days ago, a delinquent tax payer named Mr. Albigram turned your briefcase in to a snake, and sought to kill you. You survived, Mr. Albigram did not.

>From there, you met a Mr. Tom and a Mr. Ralph Buhl who said they were of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, who after being mysterious, dropped you off at a hospital for treatment, and left you without answers. You returned home, and awoke to a pigeon nailed to your front door. You decided to take the day off of work for the first time in your life. Attempting to find the answers on your own only revealed another possible murder you haven't told anyone about. From there, you returned to work to find out Mr. Tom desired you to work a case with Mr. Buhl for your 'expertise,' whatever that meant.

>Now, in a flophouse, you were just assaulted by a man seemingly compelled by a straight razor now in your possession, and have gone in to a basement to talk to a man of Chinese descent, apparently regarding something about what Albigram owed to the Bureau of Indian Affairs.

>You also won a spelling bee as a young man.

>Previous threads:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Tax%20Quest

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"I'm T.L. Johnson, tax collector with the IRS," You ignore Mr. Low's insinuation, as you nod to Ralph, "I'm working with him right now."
"You're not part of the Bureau then," Mr. Low sounds amused, "Shameful, Mr. Buhl."
Ralph raises his hand, the one stained by blood, and Mr. Low takes a step back, "Listen Low, I've been very patient here. I want to know about Albigram. We only collected half of what he owed us."
"I also have some questions as well."

Well, you did feel you deserved some answers. Briefcases turning to snakes, pigeons on doors, your name in strange men's pockets, they all raised questions which you felt you deserved answers for. Nonetheless, you hear Mr. Buhl sigh, but Mr. Low pays you especial attention at that.

"Mr. Johnson? Why should your mundane organization pay attention to me?"

"Low-" Ralph looks frustrated but glances at you, then rolls his eyes, "Okay, I guess you deserve this much. Low, Mr. Johnson here is involved with the Albigram case as well. He was there when Albigram was murdered."
"Hm," Low looks at you with pity, "A bureaucratic victim. Tragic." Was he talking about you or Albigram?
"Yeah. At any rate," Mr. Buhl reaches in to his pocket, and the bag from the Pole is revealed. Again, it glitters even in the low light of the oil lamps in this dark basement, "You recognize this? Don't get sticky fingered with it. Chief'll want it."

Ralph proffers the bag to Mr. Low. Mr. Low glances at it, then looks back up at Ralph, shaking his head, "You don't have to worry about me touching that. I don't traffic in that business," Mr. Low steps back, from Ralph, but turns his attention to you, "Mr. Johnson, if you could tell me everything, I could help you."

Ralph interposes himself between you and him, "You're talking to me Low, remember?"

That does seem a bit rude doesn't it? Still, he has the experience you guess.
>[ ] Let Ralph handle this.
>[ ] Speak for yourself.
>[ ] Other.

>>25822665
>[ ] Speak for yourself.

Excitement!

What was in that bag?

>>25822665
>other. let Ralph do most of the talking, and you can fill in where his missed something if need be. We need to take a gauge of this Low. we need to read him.

>>25822665
>[ ] Speak for yourself.

I have a feeling we can get more information if we speak as a duo.

>>25822665
>[✔] Speak for yourself.

Keep slow with the speaking, if we Ralph interrupts, let him continue.

>>25822665
>[ ] Speak for yourself.

>>25822665
>[x] Let Ralph handle this.
We let the specialist handle this. That is what a professional does.

>>25822665
>[ ] Speak for yourself.

>I did not expect this much of a response. I was hoping the 4th would draw away some people.
>Going with speaking for yourself, writing.

I really think that these people saying to speak for ourselves are goin to get us into trouble.

>>25822816
>I was hoping the 4th would draw away some people.

Why? Your quest is awesome and at the very least intriguing.

>>25822816
you write awesome quests and you should feel awesome about them!

i was following the Tavern quest threads, but he quit and you are the best i have seen so far.

>>25822816
The fourth is the worst. My dog is terrified of the fireworks and is drooling all over the floor.

>>25822816
Yours is the first quest that caught my eye. If I encounter any other quest threads I like, it'll be because yours forced me to acknowledge them as fun.

Also, your prose is fantastic.

>>25822690
>>25822741
"I can speak for myself, Mr. Buhl," You try to hold back your exasperation. Ralph glares at you, but apparently human decency holds, and he steps back, glaring daggers at Low.

Mr. Low for his part nods and listens to your story with an intense look in his sunken eyes. You explain what you can to him, focusing on the parts that were blatantly outside of your scope of reality- briefcases transforming, blood running the wrong way, the man insisting you had visited two times before without your recollection- and finish when the Bureau men arrive. You don't want to test Ralph's patience entirely.

As your story ends, Low seems to consider, before his face splits in a wide smile.

"I have no idea how Mr. Albigram did that. I work with my traditions, and Mr. Albigram had his I assume. The blood is interesting," Low looks away, before Ralph clears his throat, catching his attention, "I apologize. I do know one thing," He points to the pouch in Ralph's hand, "Mr. Albigram specialized in those matters. I had my study of it, but, well, it seems to go to a place that I am less than comfortable with."
"So, you're saying Mr. Albigram made this?" Ralph asks with a raised eyebrow.
Low chuckles, "Well, I would hope not. If Mr. Albigram made that, the Bureau has lost its touch-"
"Oh he was very dead," You can't help but murmur, which draws a short laugh from Mr. Low. Ralph clenches the fist on his uninjured arm- something about Mr. Low sets him off ease.

"He's on a slab downtown, Low. You could have just said that he didn't make it."

"Yes," Mr. Low tips his head in faux respect, "But he had an apprentice. Andrew McIntyre. He is the one you should pursue."
"Right, finally," Ralph sighs with relief, and turns to go, "Thank you for your time Low-"
"But your friend," Low points to you, "Doesn't he have more questions?" Ralph curses under his breath.

Do you have more questions?
>[ ] Yes. {Custom}
>[ ] No.
>[ ] Other.

>>25822922
>[ ] Yes. {Custom}

Ask about the pigeon. Perhaps he knows something about the symbology.

>>25822956

I second this.

>>25822899
just about ALL dogs hate fireworks. it hurts their ears. my dog is just so old, she can't hear them as she use to.

>>25822922
Yes.

"What the fuck is going on!?"

>>25822917
>>25822899
>>25822875
>>25822839
>Augh, sorry sorry. I'm just not good with a crowd. I'll stop burbling, and get back to writing.

>[ ] No.
No need to frustrate Ralph. Anything else will keep.

>>25822922
>[ ] Yes. {Custom}

"What, exactly, am I getting myself into?"

Also, this >>25822956

>>25822922
"Are the answers just going to raise a dozen more questions, Mr. Low?"

Rolled 1

>>25822956
>>25822975
>>25822996
>>25823000
>Going with a question splatter.

>>25822922
>>25822956
>Yes. The pigeon on my door, the odd man with my name in his pocket. is this some sort of cult activity?

>>25822996
>"What, exactly, am I getting myself into?"

i'm not sure we're ready to face that just yet.

>>25823000
time to find out how deep this rabbit hole goes....

>>25823019
QM, posters? still alive here?

>>25823019
"Yes, actually-" You speak up, as Ralph walks past you.
"Come on, Timothy," He says, "Time's wasting." Timothy. Again, with the Timothy.

"Just one moment Mr. Buhl, you said I could get answers here-"
"And I do mean it," Mr. Buhl comes back, a pleading look on his face, "I certainly do, and he helped, and we're going to-"
"I can offer answers," Mr. Low pipes in happily, seemingly relishing this. Ralph turns, pointing a finger.
"You shut your damn mouth, I overlooked the Park, remember?"
"Mr. Buhl!" You shout, despite yourself. Fear gives men strength, you suppose. Ralph looks at you. Doughy face slack with surprise. He groans, something about wet behind the ears, before walking over to the door, leaning on the wall next to the curtained door out. Mr. Low smells benignly. Buddha in a pea coat.

"Okay," You lick your lips, trying to find the right words, "I had, uh, a pigeon nailed to my door to start with-"
"A pigeon?" Low scowls, "Loathsome for someone to do that, with a living thing-"
"You'd know, wouldn't you?" Ralph butts in. A look silences him. He's irritated, you can tell, but willing to wait.
"-yes, I suppose I better be quick for the Bureau's sake," Mr. Low glances over your shoulder meaningfully, "Three nails, disemboweled, right?"
"Yes, exactly."
"The pigeon was less important than the scent," Mr. Low considers, "I heard of a Hungarian in the area, who works with that sort of thing. They probably wanted to be able to track you- though how they found your house in the first place is another matter. You are being watched," Low finally resolves.
"The man with my name in his pocket then?"
"A beggar, I'd guess. Little bits of fool's gold, treated by mercury. Quite poisonous, but it can capture a mind, as long as there's a second piece for the, ah, 'motive,'" You note Low stressed that word, for some reason, "To hook in to. You wouldn't happen to know about that, would you?"
You have more questions, so you launch in to the big one.

"Look, just what am I getting myself in to here?"

Low looks past you to Ralph.

"Yeah, go ahead and tell him," Ralph sounds almost defeated.
"Well, it's a long story. But you're a tax collector," Well, obviously, you had introduced yourself as such. At this, Low raises a hand, "And so is Mr. Buhl over there."

"It is strange in this country. Better than back home," With his English, you guess he's from Hong Kong, but you leave your speculations by the way side, "But worse in some ways. You tax normal men of their money. Money they earn from working in an office, or selling food, or any manner of other trade. For me, it is somewhat different. My trade is more valuable. As was Mr. Albigram's, as is Mr. McIntyre, and all manner of other things."

"To try to cut to the chase," Mr. Buhl mentions impatiently, "Their kind," And he hisses that, "Are quite capable counterfeiters."

"Me and Mr. Albigram are nothing alike," Low bristles, turning on Mr. Buhl, clearly incensed, "And I care not what manner of upset you had in the pa-"
"You don't pay taxes?" You really hope you can get some explanations, but you're getting the sinnking feeling that the issue is still being danced around.

"Yeah," Mr. Buhl approaches from behind you, "The- Mr. Low, and certain other citizens of 'extra ordinary abilities' don't pay money."
"But they still find something to wring from us," Mr. Low mutters with a lament.
"Enough trying to choke pity out of the kid. I know McIntyre. He's small fry."
"Are you going to recruit him?" Low indicates you with his hand, "He deserves to go in with eyes open."
"We don't know that yet."
"Very well," Mr. Low gives you a look of scrutiny, before he turns back to his work, "If you can separate yourself from that ogre, you would do well to visit again. I would like to know what made you survive Albigram."

Evidently, the conversation is over. Frustrating.

Ralph stalks through the curtain with a "C'mon," over his shoulder.

>>25823459
>'motive'
>"To hook in to..."

I guess that's where our "sense of justice" went, eh?

>>25823488
Let's thank Mr. Low profusely and be on our way. Only one who's given us straight answers so far.

"Where are we going now, Potato head?"

>>25823459
>>25823488
Thank you Mr. Low. i need to think on what you have said.
>Leave with Ralph
(i am thinking that Mr. Low really meant that Ralph IS an Ogre or Orge blood mixed in)

>>25823488
With little else you can do, you follow. Outside the car, Ralph motions to you, "We go to McIntyre's get him off your back, we're done."

"What is Mr. Low?" You ask. Ralph hesitates at the car door. Purses his lips. Taps on the car's roof. Finally looks up to the sky despairingly.

"I dunno kid, some kinda chink wizard."

You would laugh, if you didn't have the knowledge of a fresh near miss with death on your mind. As it is, you stare at Ralph, hoping for something more. Ralph shrugs aggressively. Nope. Chink wizard is what he's sticking with.

"And McIntyre?"
"Oh him," Ralph snorts, "A suck up and hanger on. Punk kid, he doesn't even show up in our rolls. Always hanging around people that can actually do shit, but," Ralph laughs gets in the car, "He'd have gotten kicked to the curb if he didn't suck up harder than Hoover. He lives out in 4th, in a comfy apartment."

"Will he try to kill me too?" At this Ralph hesitates, and you already know your answer, "Isn't this a matter for police?"
"No, that's my job. I think you'd be good at it," He bumbles in with that line, kind of taking you aback, "Really! I mean it! You've got a, uh, cool head."

He hesitated there.

"Look, Tim, this is the job. And I promise you, I'll keep you safe. I really do intend it. If McIntyre has Albigram's payment, it can end here. You can go back to your normal job, and never worry about this again. I'll tell Tom you didn't pass, and you can go back to your office, and add up your taxes or whatever," He's unwinding his coat now- the cut has scabbed over by now, but still looks nasty, "And I can go back to this. Or, Hell, walk away," At this, Ralph sounds bitter, which surprises you. He was the one risking your life. You were a freaking tax man, "Walk away, and go back to your job. I'll take care of it alone."

You're surprised at how bitter he sounds there. Wasn't he the professional?

>[ ] Go in the car.
>[ ] Walk away.
>[ ] Other.

I am getting a real Harlem Quest kind of vibe here, and I like it.

>>25823656
>[ ] Go in the car.
>[ ] Other.
We have made our decision, Ralph, and please call me Mr. Johnson (I think that's what we wanted to be called isn't it?)

>>25823656
Get in the car.

Has his wound seriously scabbed over already? Or has it simply clotted?

ask him how in the hell it's started to heal so fast.

>>25823656
>[ ] Go in the car.

>>25823656
>[ ] Go in the car.

>>25823656
>Go in the car
we've seen behind the certien now. if we walk, Ralph might get killed if we don't watch his back, and we're still not safe yet.
lets go with him

>>25821964
Ha ha! Time for Unknown Armies

>>25823656
>>[X] Go in the car.

>>25823705
>>25823720
>>25823741
>>25823742
>>25823758
>We ridin'.
>Also, we noticin' weird healin'.
>Writin'.
>n'.

>>25823741
remember what Low said about ralph? OGRE.

and i blame Touhou for warping my mind into thinking that Ralph might look like Suika's dad.

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You get in the car, but then take another glance at Ralph's arm.

Ralph breathes a sigh of relief-
"Ralph, how is your arm already scabbed over?"
-then stops breathing his relieved sigh.
"For the love of Pete T-"
"Mr. Johnson," You patiently remind. Ralph audibly grinds his teeth together.
"Mr. Johnson. My arm still hurts like Hell in a windmill," He pulls his jacket over his arm, "The cut was only skin deep, and I'm not going to worry too much that it has stopped bleeding-"
"But the scab-"
"Johnson!"

He really seems quite sensitive about it. How long were you in there? Twenty, maybe thirty at most minutes? Could an arm scab that quick? But you were sure the razor cut deeper than his skin-

Ralph's eyes are narrowed, and his jaw set in an altogether too threatening manner to press him about this at the moment. Well. You could, but you get the feeling it'd be dangerous.

Ralph drives his car capably, despite being down an arm, and you find yourself pulling in front of an apartment far from the dockside flops. Strictly middle class, but in comparison to the flophouse you came from, it was a little slice of heaven. As you pull up, you see a doorman. Ralph sees him too, scowls.

"He'll see me coming. Still, we shouldn't be too worried," A cunning look crosses Ralph's face, "Actually, I'll leave it up to you. You want to surprise him, or be up front?"

>[ ] We're agents of the government. Up front.
>[ ] We can't let him get the drop on us. Sneak.
>[ ] I'll be up front, you sneak.
>[ ] I'll sneak, you walk in.
>[ ] Other.

>>25824189
>[ ] I'll be up front, you sneak.

We'll bore them to death, so the element of surprise (from Ralph) is all the more satisfying.

>>25824189
>[ ] I'll be up front, you sneak.
No-one expects... The Taxman!

Rolled 98

>>25824189
>[ ] I'll be up front, you sneak.

>>25824266
Good.

>>25824266
>>25824295
>>25824298
>To the front door! Writing.

>>25824189
>[ ] I'll be up front, you sneak.
they will know you more than me. let them look at me, and you can jump them better

Rolled 15, 81, 41 + 20 = 157

"Well, if he knows your face, I'll just go talk to him directly," You murmur, considering matters, "And I just ask if he has Mr. Albigrams, er-"
"Just ask for the second part of Albigram's payment to the Bureau of Indian Affairs," At this, Ralph pops open his glove compartment, and passes you a clip board with some forms on it, "Here, he'll know what to do with these."

"Right," You glance through them. Declaration of assets, dependents, income- with three choices of metric, 'tass', a strange arabic character, and 'to be valued.' Most of it has already been filled out for Mr. Albigram, and you note "ref, Item 1 'Landswell Mirror'" written in neat handwriting has already been marked off. Item 2 is left blank.

"And me?" Ralph raises an eyebrow. You shrug, "Up to you. I don't work in your department after all. I can hardly give orders or be held responsible for your deeds."

Ralph gives a toothy grin at that. You suppose that that went over well with him. He nods, "Room 402. McIntyre."

You step out of the car and walk inside. The door man waves, friendly like with white powdered gloves in the big coat he has to wear to wear. You feel sorry for him in this August heat. You walk past, and walk up four flights of stairs. You really wish that this adventure took place in a cooler month.

It doesn't take you long to find room 402. You hear the noise of a gramophone too loud, and excited conversation. You rap at the door, and hear somebody stumble in to the door. A few moments silence, then muffled, you hear someone shout in a high man's voice, "Whaddya want?"

>[ ] TL Johnson, Bureau of Indian Affairs. Open up!
>[ ] TL Johnson, Internal Revenue Service. I need to speak to you.
>[ ] TL Johnson, I'm with the government. May I come in?
>[ ] Other.

>>25824527
>You have a strange moment of vertigo. You swear you think you hear the clang of a distant fire escape, and imagine a very large, sweating man climbing up a rusting ladder. You feel confident in your partner.

>Also, I have to learn to write faster.

>>25824527
>[ ] TL Johnson, Bureau of Indian Affairs. Open up!

We're asking him to make the payment to the Bureau, right? Doesn't make since to say we're from somewhere else.

>>25824562
Speed is less important than quality.

>>25824527
>[ ] TL Johnson, Bureau of Indian Affairs. Open up!

"I'll be in and out of your hair very quickly, Mr. McIntyre."

>>25824527
>[ ] TL Johnson, Internal Revenue Service. I need to speak to you.

Seems to be the most straight forward, least forceful and not entirely dishonest approach.

>>25824568
>>25824605
>>25824622
>I probably should mention that you can be less forceful with the Bureau option if you feel like it. I just varied up the sentence following the declaration because I got tired of writing the same thing.

>>25824527
>[ ] Other.
TL Johnson, to speak with a McIntyre of Room 402, If we recieve no reply, or a negative one, mention the Bureau

>>25824643
No need to be rude then.

>[ ] TL Johnson, Bureau of Indian Affairs. I need to speak with you.

>>25824527
>[ ] TL Johnson, Internal Revenue Service. I need to speak to you.

We can tell him about the Bureau AFTER he opens the door.

>>25824527
>[ ] TL Johnson, Internal Revenue Service. I need to speak to you.

if we open up with the BIA, that would tip him of. the IRS would be unconnected with them. give Ralph time and maybe for us that he would open the door.

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Rolled 2, 62, 53 + 10 = 127

"TL Johnson, Bureau of Indian Affairs. I'll be in and out of your hair very quickly, Mr. McIntyre."

The man behind the door, mutters something inaudible, then laughs, and shouts out to the party, "Hey! Mick! You Creek? Somebody from Indian Affairs wants to talk to you!"

What'll I Do? by Irving Berlin scratches a long for a bit. The party's noise of conversation lulls a bit, allowing you to hear the lyrics.

"What'll I do?"
You hear a woman's scream, and then a man's footsteps slamming in to the floor, and shouts.

When you're far away? You fill in the rest of the lyrics to yourself, mentally.

Apparently, McIntyre is alarmed.

>[ ] Try to open the door.
>[ ] Run down the stairs, fast.
>[ ] Back away from the door, ready yourself.
>[ ] Other

>>25824562
quality over speed my good QM. the girls und Panzer QM barely makes a post per hour and HE is less skilled that you my good QM. (well, keep in mind he does makes several quest treads per week than once per week)

>Also, I should mention, rolling low is better. And, uh, /tg/ is kinda broke as far as adding/subtracting things go. Reach consensus, then I'll tell you what to roll.

>>25824827
>[ ] Back away from the door, ready yourself.
Wait exactly one minute before going in.

>>25824827
>[ ] Try to open the door.
Kick the door first, if it doesn't give, shoot the lock.

>>25824858
no time to wait, the target is moving!

>>25824827
>[ ] Back away from the door, ready yourself.

Play it cool.
Wait, I don't think 'cool' is even a catchphrase in the 1920s.

>>25824893
>I actually looked it up, and yeah, apparently according to this site I looked up, it actually originates from 1966, that is, the cool meaning being composed. Argh. My anachronisms, there's no stopping them.

>Writing for backing away from the door.

>>25824893
Don't worry, everything's jake.

>>25825005
in deed, the use of slang changes faster than most people realize. more so now we have modern comunication methods.

Rolled 85, 84, 7 + 10 = 186

Your mouth runs dry, as you hear the noise on the other side. You back away from the door, grit your teeth, clench your fists, preparing yourself for an attack. You hope that you have nothing on your person he could turn against you.

You gird yourself- and then hear the noise of breaking glass. He went for the window. Damn it. All you've done is waste time.

>[ ] Sprint down the stairs.
>[ ] Go for the door.
>[ ] Other

Rolled 8, 62, 66 + 20 = 156

>>25825057
>Eh, I saw hot headed originated from the 1650s, and just assumed that coolheaded would mean composed- but nope.

>One last roll here behind the screen.

>>25825065
>>[ ] Go for the door.
Ralph is out there, besides we could probably jump out after him, much quicker. And we have a gun.

>>25825065
>[ ] Sprint down the stairs.

Run like hell!

>>25825065
>[ ] Go for the door.

>>25825065
>[ ] Other

Go for the nearest fire escape. He won't be jumping from the 4th floor.

inb4 he totally does

>>25825065
i knew it!
>[ ] Sprint down the stairs.
either we find a dead body splattered on the side walk, or the target is fleeing.

>Alright, should I roll 1d2 here?

>Also, I have to go for a little while. Be back in 20.

>>25825213

Roll a d2

>>25825213
we'll be waiting. and i still say head for the stairs.

>>25825248
What if he broke a window to get us to run down the stairs? He could be hiding inside and waiting for us to leave.

Enter the house.

>>25825213
I'm canceling my fire escape vote (since apparently Ralph is climbing up there.)

Changing to busting into the room.

>>25825277
>>25825321
....hum, good point. i'll change my vote then too. bust in the door.

OP, you can do negatives on your rolls very easily. You just need to add the negative.

1d20+-5 for instance. It adds the -5 to the roll. You need to have both in there though.

Rolled 93 - 20

>>25825535
Hmm... lemme test that...

>>25825535

Rolled 15 - 5

>>25825535
oops lol

Rolled 9 - 5

>>25825669

Rolled 52, 96, 37 - 20 = 165

>>25825535

Dunno how it would result if OP did multiple rolls though.

I think it should just be adding/subtracting in the skill check first, then roll.

>>25825535

This anon is right.

Rolled 14 - 10

>>25825535
>Oh, thank you. I probably should have tried that earlier. I'll give it a test now just to see.

>>25825712
>Eh, since it's a pool based system, I'm just posting it up for the benefit of people following.

>At any rate, Timothy is busting the door down.

>Gimme three rolls of 1d100 folks, 40 and below succeed, two successes required.

Rolled 58

>>25825902

Rolled 22

>>25825902

Rolling. And I thought we were doing high rolls.

Rolled 81

>>25825902

>>25825922
>>25825924
>>25825928
>Thank you. Writing.

Rolled 12

>>25825902
should have shot the lock first.

>>25825976
>Well, that's an option. Somebody had brought that up earlier-

>Might as well put it to a vote then. Do you want to attempt to shoot the lock?

You have the space. You sprint the width of the hall way, and slam in to the door- it rattles, and you swear you hear a crack in it- but it holds strong. You hear someone on the other side shouting, asking what is going on-

You don't have much time. You remember the revolver in your pocket. Little sneaky .32 revolver. Could make all the difference on this lock.

The record has been taken off the gramophone for some reason. Somebody asks for it to be put back on.

>[ ] Keep at the door, it's gotta be breaking by now.
>[ ] Shoot the lock.
>[ ] Sprint down the stairs.
>[ ] Other.

>>25826045
>[ ] Shoot the lock.

Rolled 63

>>25826045
>[ ] Shoot the lock.

FUCK DA LOCKSMITHS

>>25826045
>[ ] Keep at the door, it's gotta be breaking by now.
Gun makes too much noise. Plus you may damage the door forcing it shut, or ricochet the bullet into ourselves or our client.

Rolled 92

>>25826067
>>25826090
>Alrighty then. Rollin' a d100.

>>25826045
just shoot the lock! .32 at point blank isn't going to ricochet. besides, Ralph might be fighting already now.

Rolled 30

>>25826164

>>25826164
need some rolls on our side?

Rolled 54

>>25826164
Rollan dice.

"Step away from the door!" You shout a warning. You have to be responsible.

You take out your revolver and point it at the door.

Oh fuck, where do you shoot.

You blink the sweat out of your eyes, point at where you presume you have to shoot at the lock of the door, and fire.

You hear a scream on the other side, as it swings open.

You may have just shot someone. You thought you saw blood. You see a foot behind the door. You still hear groans of agony. Still, the door is open. Was that your bullet, or the man pulling it open?

The door is open on a tidy coat room, and you see a room beyond with a couch, and a curtain blowing in the breeze. You don't see the other guests- aside from the groans, the party's cacophony is blotted out.

Oh well. Put that aside. This is a dangerous place. These are dangerous times. You warned him. You hear a shout through the broken window.

The revolver is warm in your hand.

>[ ] Go in to the room, revolver first, be quick!
>[ ] Go in the room cautiously- this might be bad.
>[ ] Check the man- he might be seriously hurt.
>[ ] Other.

>>25826334
>[ ] Go in the room cautiously- this might be bad.

>>25826334
>>[ ] Other.
Put the gun away, pull out the razor
>[ ] Go in the room cautiously- this might be bad.

>>25826334
Crap.

>[ ] Check the man- he might be seriously hurt.

>Okay, writing for entering cautiously, razor ready.

>>25826334
>[ ] Check the man- he might be seriously hurt.
Make sure it's not Ralph, if he's still alive if possable, BUT keep moving to..
>[ ] Go in to the room, revolver first, be quick!
IC we might not be SWAT trained, but we can still fake it. move,move,move!

With shaking hand, you slip the revolver back in your pocket. You just shot a man. Perhaps? Maybe, maybe it was just the door. Maybe he won't be bleeding-

Focus.

You calm yourself, and though you put away your revolver, you bring up the razor- half folded, thumb on the blade. Ready to bring it out.

You glance behind the door- yes, there is the man, pale man, slick backed black hair man, ill fitting white suit stained crimson man, holding his stomach, but also a blood slicked Webley revolver at his side, scrunched in the corner of the door. He glances up, and raises one red hand in surrender. He sees your razor. He must think you a lunatic. Had he grabbed his gun with malicious intent, or to defend his property?

You sincerely doubt that Mr. Hamilton will cover for you if law enforcement asks. Especially in such a nice tenement.

You swallow back your bile, place your shoe on the gun, and draw it out of his reach to the other side of the kitchen. You hear commotion out in the hall. Hard to dismiss that as a car backfiring when you can smell gunsmoke.

Still. Caution must prevail.

>Perception roll, gimme 4 1d100 rolls, 50 and below succeed.

>[ ] Tend to the man.
>[ ] Move on to the next room.
>[ ] Barrel out the window.
>[ ] Other.

Also
>[ ] Take Webley.
>[ ] Leave Webley.

Rolled 87

>>25826616
>[ ] Barrel out the window.
>[ ] Take Webley

Rolled 38

>>25826616
>[ ] Take Webley.
It's a pretty okay pistol, from what I recall. Double action, which is always nice.
>[ ] Move on to the next room.
Caution, gotta be cautious.

Rolled 47

>>25826616
>[ ] Take Webley.
>[ ] Tend to the man.
>[ ] Move on to the next room.

Rolled 77

>>25826686
Just a quick patch, cut his sleeve off, and tie around the wound for pressure, should keep him floating for long enough to do a quick scope of the place and for Ralph to arrive.

Rolled 15

>>25826616
Oh crap, we shot him in the gut. That guy is pretty much dead in this day and age. Unless he's got some magic.
>[ ] Move on to the next room.
>[ ] Take Webley.

Rolled 97

>>25826616
QM, they used cordite back in the 20's a ammo propelent. it doesn't have much smell to it. BUT! they could tell what bullet that killed the man, however, this is besides the main point. there is a fight going on and ralph need help! the man won't die just yet from a gut wound and you're not a doc.
>[ ] Move on to the next room.
also
>[ ] Leave Webley.
don't leave your hand prints on other weapons

>>25826796
what if we keep it?

>>25826833
We already have two pistols, the revolver we're using right now and the M1911. Why would we need another?

>>25826861
So when it comes to our final, blood soaked rampage for justice, we can keep pulling out pistols as we blast our way through the Detroit underground.

>>25826796
Cordite has a smell and fingerprints can be proven to be made in a certain time frame.

>>25826861
I didn't exactly think that far ahead. Hmmm. We like guns? But I don't think we do. Its something that can't be traced to us? Sure lets go with this one.

Rolled 21

>>25826897
i never said it's oderless. but the smell won't stick around much to be noticed. the SOUND on the other hand should already has been noticed.
we needs to MOVE people! freezing up in a fight can get you killed.

>>25826616

What should I use for the tags when I archive this?

>>25827475
same as the others I suppose.

>Back. Sorry about that.

>Consensus seems to be taking Webley and going to the next room. Also, 2 successes for perception.

>Writing.

>>25827475
>Actually, before I write I should probably say my apologies to the archiving anon. I'll archive this time, don't worry. Just want to reach the end of the night.

>>25827475
>>25827526
>>25827609

I meant Summary, not tags.

And thanks, Internal.

Rolled 44

>>25827589
rollen'

Rolled 38

>>25827589

You glance down at the Webley. Well, you are going to be going in to trouble. You wrap your fingers around the grip, trying your best to ignore the lukewarm temperature of the blood. You glance at the man in the corner. His breathing is shortened. He swallows.

You hear a noise from out in the room, and raise your new weapon towards it. Glass crunching under foot. No more noise. You creep in to the room.

The phonograph has been knocked over along with its table, and an Irving Berlin record ruined by it. A couch, some drinks, and a smashed window through which a warm breeze is coming through. There are two doors- one open to a kitchen, where some beans are spilled on black and white checkered floor, and another shut, where you can hear some whispers.

Across the room, the open window, and some crushed glass. You could have sworn you heard some thing crack in here.

In the alleyway you hear a shout, and some garbage cans clatter. You distinctly hear Ralph bellowing. Whether it's in pain or in triumph you can not say.

You note there is a fire escape out the window, with a pretty little planter with flowers in it as well.

You could have sworn you heard someone in here.

>[ ] Go out to the fire escape, provide support.
>[ ] Go to the shut door, figure out how many are in there, if you can expect trouble from them.
>[ ] Stay still.
>[ ] Other.

>>25827827
>[ ] Go to the shut door, figure out how many are in there, if you can expect trouble from them.

Here's to trusting Ralph with his fast wound regeneration.

Rolled 2

>>25827827
>[ ] Go to the shut door, figure out how many are in there, if you can expect trouble from them.
try to listen to creak directions and breathing noises. We'll trust Ralph to take care of himself

>>25827878
>>25827880
>Okay. Gimme 2 d100s for a perception check. I'll cheat a little in your favor (Call it adrenaline) and include the 2 as a success.

>>25827949
>Oh, also, 50 and below succeed.

Rolled 65

>>25827949
Done.

Rolled 88

>>25827827

>>25827990
>>25827991
>Tough break. Writing.

You approach the door, razor and revolver at the ready- and tax documents folded in your pocket. You can't remember doing that, but some part of you appreciates your respect for protocol.

Outside, you hear another crackle, then Ralph bellows something. Something that sounded like 'give up.' Well, it didn't sound like he needed help exactly. You had to be sure about the door. You approach, put your ear to it. You hear whispers.

"Is he gone?"
"No, no, I heard something moving around out there- that was a gun Susan! They shot Mitch!"
"Keep your voice down!" You can barely make out that whisper.

Then you hear a crunch behind you again, of broken glass.

You turn in time to see an end table flying at your face, and a face only reflected in a mirror.

>Gimme 3 1d100 rolls. 45 and below succeed. 3 successes to fully dodge.

Rolled 64

>>25828090
ROLL! great, we have an invisable guy here!

Rolled 47

>>25828090
>>25828111
not good! maybe i can do better?

Rolled 49

>>25828090

>>25828126
will rounding down do QM?

Rolled 30

>>25828090
must dodge

>>25828111
>>25828126
>>25828134
WELP! this is going to suck..

>>25828135
>Regrettably, no.

>Timothy just took an end table full to the face. Writing.

>>25828111
>>25828126
>>25828134
Whelp. We're getting a face full of end table.
Great job guys.

It's obvious now, but the crunching of glass in an apparently empty room should have tipped us off to someone still being in here.

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It splinters. Smashes. Cracks.

You slam in to the door, your skull between a rock and a hard place, and you're only dully aware of the noise of screaming on the other side of the door. Your vision is different. You realize that your glasses, bent and twisted, cracked and broken are gone, but more than that, your nose, isn't quite right.

This is just like that time you tried playing foot ball with the big boys when you were a child.

You slide down the door, coughing, unable to breath through a nose dripping blood, on your knees, having a great deal of trouble seeing through the blur and the ringing.

You look up. You saw where the end table came from, but damned if you can see who threw it. Another blur on the reflection of your straight razor. You can only barely catch a glimpse of it.

You are having severe difficulties.

>[ ] Pound on the door, beg to be let in.
>[ ] Go for the fire escape, get out of this cursed apartment. Might be a challenge in your debilitated state.
>[ ] Weapon up. Defend yourself. Might be hard in your debilitated state.
>[ ] Other.

>>25828272
>[ ] Weapon up. Defend yourself. Might be hard in your debilitated state.
Look for a clearing of glass, attack there.

>>25828272
>[ ] Weapon up. Defend yourself. Might be hard in your debilitated state.

Rolled 26

>>25828272
>[ ] Weapon up. Defend yourself. Might be hard in your debilitated state.

>>25828344
>>25828321
>Okay.

>Gimme 2 1d100, 40 and below difficulty.

>Or, gimme 4 1d100, 50 and below difficulty.

>Yes, you can see the results of the initial 2d100 and choose from that. But there may be consequences for tripping that 2d100 boundary.

>>25828399
4d100

Rolled 31, 90 = 121

>>25828399

Rolled 39, 60 = 99

>>25828399
>Or, gimme 4 1d100, 50 and below difficulty.

I'm gonna go for this. Maybe we'll get some mercy at least.

>>25828272
>[ ] Weapon up. Defend yourself. Might be hard in your debilitated state.
remember how Percius took down Madusa! NOW is the time to repeat it! we can't see him, but we can see his reflection! use the strait razor if we have too!

File: 1373009262304.jpg-(224 KB, 800x954, ub-110-control-room-germa(...).jpg)

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>>25828469
>>25828462
>>25828437
>Okay. Give me 4 1d100 rolls.

Rolled 94, 30, 86, 21 = 231

>>25828399
ok.

Rolled 73

>>25828491
Looks like we're fucked now.

Rolled 70

>>25828491

Rolled 50

>>25828491
>>25828502
Separately or together?

Rolled 72

>>25828491

>>25828532
>Separately.

>And yeah. Things look bad for Timothy.

>Maybe I should turn things around, make higher better. /tg/ dice don't like to roll low.

>At any rate though, Timothy must go through a very dark time now. Writing.

>>25828571
Dice rolls are tied to the timestamp I have heard. Was cited as the reason there are surprisingly long and often streaks of high or low rolls.

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Your face hurts. You blink, stagger up, holding up the razor blade, and the Webley. Your head hurts. It's a different kind of hurt. It skips the skin. It hurts in the places you forgot. Where your skull meets the skin, where your jaw meets tooth. It's a dreadful pain.

You raise your razor blade. Well, it wasn't your razor blade. It was a Polish man's razor blade. A Polish man who had been manipulated by it, somehow. You're not familiar with how this all works.

You see a bit of glass move on the floor. You move aside your stolen blade, to aim your stolen gun. A Webley. British revolver. You wonder if that man you shot would die. You hope not.

He isn't there, you realize. The glass moves, the carpet's fabric bends, depresses under something's foot step, but it wasn't there. It was some place else.

You vaguely wonder if you have brain damage, before you feel that sharp reprimand. Focus.

You are dragged up from your shaky knees, to your feet, then just your toes touching the ground, as something is yanking you up by your neck. It's hard to focus on anything but breathing.

You'll have to follow him, something asks you. But you'll want to come back, right?

You feel a hammer blow in your gut, and you bend over, almost doubled, as a milk bottle breaks on your belly. You feel renewed fire under there.

All you would have to do, is step aside for a moment.

You slam in to the door, gasping, wind knocked out of you, feeling sick to your stomach. All you have to do is let go. Let go for a bit.

It won't be free though. Books have to balance. What is most precious to you?

>[ ] Let go.
>[ ] Cling on.
>[ ] Hold out hope.
>[ ] Other.

>>25828706
>I can understand the position of 'fuck rolling' more. But, I do feel, since it's on /tg/, there should be more 'game' involved.

>>25828776
>Cut off at the end there. But at any rate, I'm keeping dice because I like to have randomness in the story for the game's sake. Even if it is poorly seeded.

>>25828776
>[ ] Cling on.

Gotta be incredibly persistent.

Rolled 51

>>25828776
>[ ] Other.
Justice. I Will Never Let This Go

>>25828776
>>I can understand the position of 'fuck rolling' more. But, I do feel, since it's on /tg/, there should be more 'game' involved.
I agree. I just meant that permanently switching from low to high wouldn't change the fundamental problem of long streaks of bad dice rolls. One could switch for one session though if it looks like such a streak is coming.

>>25828842
It would be weird to suddenly change what is most precious. Second this as I don't want to lie to the mysterious voice.

>>25828839
>>25828842
His name is Everett Daukantas.

You're thrown in to the kitchen, bounce and slide to a halt in front of the fridge. This time, you are sick. You retch, cough, and spill your breakfast across the floor. You reflect that you're happy you hadn't eaten anything else today.

You glimpse up, and you don't see the setting sun coming through the window. The room is lit in a kind of the ruddy yellow of a harvest moon, and you see the man approach you. Tall man, he has to duck under as he enters the kitchen. Big arms, chained in front of him, naked save for a burlap bag over his face, dripping blood from a single hole.

He betrayed a man over in Chicago for thirty eight dollars, and a dirty sheet.

The bound hands reach to the counter. The fingernails on his hand are missing. You blink, see nothing, except for your sick and blood. But you do see a bottle lift from the counter. Some kind of oil? Cooking sherry? You can't see that well.

They found him in a Detroit bar. Stripped him naked, pulled out his teeth, his finger and toe nails. Threw him in to the foundation of the Book-Cadillac. But the teeth they kept. A pretty penny they sold for.

A flicker. You see the man holding aloft the bottle. But behind him. The eyeless man with the saber. His face taut with a grin. He is asking you again. What is most precious to you.

Dead men have power. Let go. You won't die this way.

"Never," you slur around swollen lips. You don't know why. The knuckles tighten on the saber. Frustration. You see the world again, as it is. The bottle is coming down.

>[ ] Dodge.
>[ ] Swing.
>[ ] Other.

>>25829033
>[ ] Swing.

>>25829033
>[ ] Dodge.

>>25829033
>[x] Fall out of the way. Killing you would make them high-priority targets if this works anything like other organizations. Therefore, they most likely want to make sure you definitely are no danger to them any more and then flee.

Or they want to kill you and your partner and then anyone of the Bureau who comes after them. That would be mildly insane though.

Rolled 12

>>25829098
>>25829137
>Okey dokey, dodgin'.

Rolled 65

>>25829174
>Finally, something looking up.

You would like to say you roll out of the way, but really, you more gave in to gravity with proper timing.

The bottle smashes on the fridge as you fall out of the way, and stumble slip out of the kitchen. A broken bottle sails past you, smashing on the carpet.

You're just a taxman. You really have to get out of here. They would be nuts to kill a taxman. That would bring police- which, you think through the ringing, yes, you do hear sirens, and clomping footsteps ringing on the fire escape outside.

You're pretty sure your legs are working, as soon as you get some breath in your lungs again. You can feel your face puffing up already, leaving you dizzy. You didn't expect god damn ghosts. You feel angry for a moment, pulling yourself up a couch to a standing position. Ralph should have told you there'd be a damn ghost. How did you get so sure that this was a ghost anyway? The razor is still in your hand, but you left the Webley over in the kitchen. Your .32 is still in your pocket.

Where is Ralph anyway?

>[ ] Out the front door. You know that's open, and the only person in there is seriously injured.
>[ ] To the window. You heard Ralph outside. There's a fire escape.
>[ ] Other.

>>25829251
>[ ] Out the front door. You know that's open, and the only person in there is seriously injured.

>>25829251
>>[ ] Out the front door. You know that's open, and the only person in there is seriously injured.
Ralph is probably still in the alley, but I don't want to risk passing by that...thing again.

>>25829251
Don't want to fall down the fire escape.
>Front door.

>>25829295
>>25829292
>>25829276
>Alright, to the front. Gimme 3 1d100 rolls, gents.

Rolled 18

Guys, jesus christ
>Drop the razor blade.
For fuck's sake, it's not like it wasn't controlling that crazy polak.

Rolled 31

>>25829304

Rolled 29

>>25829304

Rolled 77

>>25829304
keep the razor, we don't know if guns work on magic.

>>25829313
>>25829316
>>25829327
>Very good. I guess the seed has swung the other way now.

>Writing.

>>25829327
>>25829316
>>25829313
thank god for low rolls

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On your feet now. There's a good one. You relearn to walk, stumbling forward, your balance is all kinds of shot. You carom off a wall, lean off a lamp, and end up in the front foyer.

Who shut the door? Oh, you had missed the lock, you numbly wonder.

The injured man is there. Holding on to his gutshot. He's a in a puddle of blood. Very pale. But he's smiling. A smile rimmed in red. He raises his hand, waves his fingers. Like a neighbor giving a wave passing on the street.

He has dully shining, ivory buttons on his white suit, and incisors for cuff links.

You don't really have much of a chance to think about this revelation.

"Kid! Johnson! That wasn't him!" You hear Ralph shouting from the window. He hasn't entered yet. Slick back hair raises an eyebrow, and his smile deepens.

>[ ] Congratulations gutshot, I don't care. get out of the apartment.
>[ ] Kill McIntyre.
>[ ] Try to make McIntyre call off Daukantas
>[ ] Warn Ralph.
>[ ] Run the other way.
>[ ] Other.

>>25829431
>[ ] Warn Ralph.

>>25829431
>[ ] Other.
We don't know why but we need him. I don't think it would go down well, killing the man we came to see. oh and;
>[ ] Warn Ralph.

Rolled 3

>>25829431
>[ ] Warn Ralph.
>[ ] Other
Hit him repeatedly in the head until such a time as we feel he is unconscious.

Rolled 30

>>25829529
And then take his cufflinks and buttons?

The meaning in McIntyre's smile is clear. You turn, wheeze, "Ralph! Get away from the window!"

You hear a shatter of glass. No screams. Maybe he heard you. You aren't in your best state. You're leaning heavily on the wall, and then you hear McIntyre chuckling.

You turn. This was the man you came for. As tempting as it was to just bludgeon him to death, you couldn't.

"What now?" He whispers, raising an eyebrow, "You going to do me, like you did Albigram?"

You still have a ringing in your ears. You don't know where his pet poltergeist is. You can only hope that Ralph is okay.

Something comes to your mind. Motive and hook.

>[ ] "You have something that is rightfully property of the United States. We have come to recover it."
>[ ] "Call off your ghost."
>[ ] "I didn't kill Mr. Albigram."
>[ ] "I'm walking out that door. I mean no trouble. I'm just a taxman."
>[ ] Grab his buttons and cufflinks.
>[ ] Search the apartment for fool's gold.
>[ ] Other.

Rolled 100

>>25829544
Yes. Preferably while yelling incoherently and insinuating rude things about his mother.

>>25829544
>>25829529
Why don't we just take his suit, get it drycleaned.
then get ourselves a new briefcase

>>25829576
>[ ] Grab his buttons and cufflinks.
Maybe we'll be able to control the thing once we have all of them.

>>25829576
>[ ] Grab his buttons and cufflinks.
>[ ] Other.

Grab anything else out of place in his person.
I guess we know now why Ralph was grabby with the Polish guy.

>>25829576
>[ ] "You have something that is rightfully property of the United States. We have come to recover it."
Business before pleasure

>>25829590
>>25829627
>Okey, dice+1d100, three times.

>>25829632
>What the heck, I'll throw that in for free. In retrospect, it's not like making a statement would preclude the other choices.

Rolled 77

>>25829668
many thanks.

Rolled 78

>>25829668
A dicey proposition

>>25829703
>>25829721
>The seed has its revenge.

>>25829735
Well. Shit.

>>25829757
One more roll, anyone feeling lucky?

>>25829766
I'm not. You?

>Well, one more die to roll in this pool.

>Maybe it's the d100s. It makes it more noticeable with such a wide spread.

>Also, though regrettably it is here for a reason in this situation, the paranoia that my half assed mechanics are causing are unwelcome.

>Oh well. I am a professional at crashing and burning.

Rolled 21

>>25829793
Then let's burn.

>>25829823
>A success. Not all is lost.

>Writing.

>>25829793
The mechanics don't seem to be the issue here. There is really no dice system where lots of bad rolls are not bad. Maybe further lessening their impact or not asking for roll for each individual action could work.

"You," You gather yourself, get your breath back, "You have something that is rightfully property of the United States. We, we have come to recover it."

Motive and hook. Damned strange science. But you remember teeth, and what kind of man has teeth on his clothes. You crouch, and start pulling the jacket off of McIntyre, grab for the toothed cufflinks, and pat him down to make sure, and pair of scissors filigreed in silver. The entire time, the dying man stares directly at you. You do your best not to look from him.

"Y'know, vultures usually have the good grace to wait until a man's dead to start picking him clean," he murmurs.

You're about to tell him to shut up when you hear a noise in the room behind you. You stand up, fist clenched about the strange things you took from McIntyre. You're starting to breath better, but your vision is still blurry, and you're rather short sighted.

You see a blur coming to the door.

>[ ] Get out of the apartment.
>[ ] Shoot it.
>[ ] Try putting on the bloody jacket?
>[ ] Other.

>>25829961
>[ ] Other.

Keep the gun up.
"Ralph! Is that you?"
If there's no answer, open fire.

>>25829980
Seconding this.

>>25829961
>[ ] Try putting on the bloody jacket?
>[ ] Other.
"I am not a vulture, I'll be giving it back when I don't need it"

I suspect the geist will back off if it thinks we're him.

>>25829961
Get out of the way in case another one wants to shoot you. Don't be too trigger happy-

>>25829869
>Yeah, I've been kind of over rolling. It is a combat situation though. Gotta learn how to do these things better though.

>>25829980
>>25829987
>Writing.

>>25830059
Don't change it man, I think combat should be risky as hell.

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"Ralph?" You pull your shaking pistol, raise it and point it to the doorway. The blur grows a bit more distant, "Is that you?"

"Don't point that at me!" Yeah. That's Ralph's voice. You lower your pistol, "Aside from that, Mr. Johnson, I thought you wanted to be formal."

"Sorry, the concussion, and the-" Ralph, regrettably, doesn't listen to your medical liabilities.
"Shit, there's McIntyre! What happened to him?"

The blur draws closer, coalescing in to the large, mountainous form of Ralph. You can see he has lost his tie, and hat somewhere, and an eye has swollen shut. You glance over at McIntyre. Still breathing, but his eyes are shut. Up to you to tell the story you suppose.

You are also uncomfortably aware that the sirens have stopped. Meaning that the police are probably going to be coming up the stairs, very soon.

>[ ] "I can tell you later Ralph, right now shouldn't we be going?"
>[ ] "What happened to the ghost?"
>[ ] "I...Shot him. I didn't mean to! I told him to step away from the door!"
>[ ] "I...Shot him. He came at me with these scissors! It was self defense!"
>[ ] Other.

>>25830108
Yep, some risk in combat is needed. >>25829869
was not meant to suggest we do that. I just meant that IF you want to lessen the risk lessening the impact of dice is a better way than changing the system.

For me both failure as long as it's not the end of the adventure and success are good. I don't need our hero to win all the time.

>>25830140
>[ ] "I...Shot him. I didn't mean to! I told him to step away from the door!"

>>25830160
I agree completely. Success or failure don't really matter, as long as the result is interesting.

>>25830169
The truth and nothing but the truth, OP, it's our way.

>>25830140
>[x] "An accident. Have you dealt with the ghost?"

>>25830140
>[ ] "I...Shot him. I didn't mean to! I told him to step away from the door!"

He was also coming up to the door with a gun drawn.

>[ ] Other.
"Can you tend to him?"

>>25830172
Indeed. Is that not why we are gathered here? To be entertained?

>Okay, honesty. Also, including the tending question, the detail about the Webley, and the question about the ghost, if Ralph lets you get in the words. Writing.

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"I...Shot him," Ralph looks at you in frank surprise, "I told him to step away from the door! It was an accident! Aside from that, when I came through, he had a gun-"
"Where's the gun, Mr. Johnson?"
"Well, it's in the kitchen- look, we don't have time for this right now," Mr. Buhl looks doubtful, but shoulders past you to the unconcious McIntyre, "Did you deal with the, the," Your tongue revolts, as your brain splits in pain, "The ghost?"

"Not quite," Ralph grunts as he hefts McIntyre in his arms. At least the fact that everyone accepts the clearly unacceptable means that no one asks you to clarify things, "He's gone. But you got the coat though- that should help matters."
"You could have told me there was a ghost."
"So, what, you could call a priest?" Ralph has a wonderful way of insinuating you're an idiot every other sentence, "I didn't know Andy had it in him."
"Can you help him?" You really don't want to be a murderer.

"I can't. I know somebody who can though. We have to take him back to Tom."

You hear feet tromping up the stairs. Ralph scowls, "They won't help. Can you hold them off?" You gape at him, before Ralph rolls his eyes, "I mean TALK to them. I'll go out to the alley, you talk to them, give me time to get to the car."

Yes. Talk to the police. With blood on you, a head wound, an apartment in disarray, and witnesses that would finger you for a stranger. And the only protection you have is a taxman's badge which, again, doesn't really give you the authority to break and enter.

Still. You look at McIntyre. He looks rather placid now, but this may have been the man seeking to kill you. You might have just saved your own life. If you can trust Ralph, and Mr. Low.
>[ ] "Okay Ralph. I trust you."
>[ ] "Are you nuts? You do it! You have the Bureau badge!"
>[ ] Just make a break for the window before he does.
>[ ] Other.

>>25830485
>[ ] "Okay Ralph. I trust you."

>>25830485
>[ ] Other.

What about that locked door? With the screaming behind it?

If there are people there, we might be able to entangle the police with them asking for their help.

Meanwhile, us and Ralph make a break for it.

>>25830485
Try to focus, correct your glasses.
"Do you think I'm an idiot Mr. Buhl? I'm not going to take fall for this fiasco."

>>25830525
Oh yeah, tell them to scream, real loud, and maybe the police will help them.

>>25830485
The police will at least not harm you and it would lead you to medical attention. Just appear non-threatening.
>[ ] "Okay Ralph. I trust you."

>>25830525
I'm not sure about this. Seems risky.

>>25830525
Yeah, let's go with this. Shoo the people out of the front door, that should stall the cops for a moment. Grab McIntyre and get out of the fire escape.

>>25830569

Yeah. Risky indeed. And we don't know how they'd react once set loose.

This guy >>25830566 might be on the right track though.

Approach the locked door, tell the occupants that the police are on their way in. If they want to be let out, they should start banging at the door to draw the attention of the police.

Don't bother giving them an explanation, I guess.

>Okay, so, I'm getting the feeling then that you guys want to use the folks locked in the bedroom to try to screen your withdrawal? Is that right?

>>25830668
Yeah.

>>25830668
Yep. Without letting them out preferably.
Less witnesses to ID us in any case.

Both Ralph and us make a break for it.

Rolled 16

>>25830699
>>25830696
>Okey dokey. Writing.

>Wrapping up for the night soon.

>>25830745
Ha ha, it's a day over here!

>>25830756
Pretty sure its around 11:30 where IR is.

>>25830745
Ooohhh, I hope that roll isn't for police competence.

>>25830775
I pray its our success in escaping undetected.

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Rolled 23

"Mr. Buhl, I don't think that's a very good plan," You fish around for your glasses- well, there's still some lens left in the mangled frame.
"We don't have time, just trus-"
"I trust you, but I don't trust the police will be entirely genial," You bend the metal as best as you can, and then set the resulting construction on your face. Ergh. The sight gives you a headache, but at least you can see the vein rising on Ralph's forehead now.
"McIntyre doesn't have a lot of time-"
"We can let the people in the bedroom talk to the police," You finish, stumbling over to an armchair, and and attempting to drag it to the door. After a few moments ineffectual grunting, Ralph finally, mercifully, drags it over with one beefy paw, blocking the door.

"You think they'll cooperate?"
"They have to give a statement either way. They're probably quite, quite frazzled. Ah," You glance nervously over to the door, which still has your blood spattered on it, and a shattered end table, "You're quite sure the ghost is gone?"
"Not forever," Rumbled Ralph, with some annoyance. You catch the subtext.

You trot over to the door as Ralph goes to the fire escape, to wait for you. A few raps at the door, and you're rewarded with a gasp of horror on the other side.
"Wh-Who is it?" Comes a woman's voice.
"We're on our way out. The police will be inside soon. Don't open it now!" You hear the latch freeze partway through it's turn, "You don't want to see our faces. Do you?"
"N-Not at all!" You worry yourself some what that you've come up with this kind of scheme while sporting what you can only hope is a mild concussion.
"Good. The police will be in soon. We'll be gone then. I advise you...Seek refuge with them. Immediately!"
"Johnson!" You hear hissed from the window. Right, well, you hope the plan has gotten in to the woman's head. For no real good reason, you walk back, pointing at the door, then go out on the fire escape.

>>25830756
>I got a few hours before the sun rises here.

Rolled 50

>>25830870
The moment you look down you get terrible vertigo, and fear you'll pitch forward. Thank the civil servant that made railings mandatory. Ralph, confidently stomps down, even delicately carrying a full grown man. You gingerly crawl after him, leaning heavily on the too skinny bar of iron.

Ralph reaches the bottom, dropping the last story down. You drop too, with considerably less art, and end up wincing as you stumble and fall on a knee. You are vaguely aware you see a man's legs sticking out of a dumpster.

"C'mon Johnson," Ralph runs the way opposite of the street, where you feel your heart skip a beat seeing a policeman strolling along. Thankfully, some grace of God is on you, as he doesn't seem to notice the pair of you. You scamper after Ralph, as you see his car parked at the end of the alley.

Does it count as kidnapping if you specifically are trying your best to save a man from dying?

"In the back, keep an eye on him."
You obey, for lack of a better option. What were you going to do, drive?

Despite everything, McIntyre was still alive. Pale, but his breath, and to your surprise, pulse were still regular.

"I hope Tom is a miracle worker."
"Eh," Ralph turned the engine, "Depends on your criteria of what a miracle is."

The Cadillac roared, and rolled out of the alley, sending a man scampering out of the way. Above, in an apartment, police were doing their best to disentangle themselves from four terrified witnesses, and trying to find the fifth member of their party.

You at least didn't have to worry about the police. But you feel exhaustion creeping up on you.

Do you sleep?
>[ ] Yes.
>[ ] No.

>>25830934
>[ ] No.

>>25830934
>[ ] No.

Still got that adrenaline high. Maybe.

>>25830934

>[No]

Civil servants never truly sleep. The fate of civilisation rests on their shoulders, and for that they must remain ever vigilant.

>>25830934
Clean what's left of your glasses nervously, ask Ralph if he got the gun with your fingerprints on them.

Rolled 17

>>25830955
>>25830989
>>25830962
Your eyes drift down for a moment, as you think to yourself how nice it would be just to curl up, just to curl up and be able to rest your pains away, and to wake up fine and okay in a normal warm bed, far from blood and fear-

No.

You open your eyes, suddenly short of breath.

You rub the bridge of your nose. No, that was a very bad idea. Not with everything that was going on.

"Not far now," Murmured Ralph up front. You glanced out. The sun had only just set. It seemed almost unfair, that so much had happened in so short a time. It was not nearly yet time to sleep.

Compelled, you stay awake, watching the McIntyre fitfully jerking in gutshot sleep.

Ralph leaves the refined roads of the city, and hits the road of dust and gravel.

Do you think he was the one that tried to kill you?
>[ ] Yes.
>[ ] No.

>>25831019
>[ ] No. Assuming you're referring to Ralph, otherwise yes.

>>25831019

Who, Ralph? No...
McIntyre? I doubt it. Not enough evidence to be certain in any case.

>>25831019
>[ ] No.

>>25831019
Nah, things were pretty chaotic back there but McIntyre probably thought that you were a hitman coming for him and defended himself.

Rolled 58

>>25831019
>Man, McIntyre is one resilient sunuvabitch.

>>25831037
>>25831041
You frown at that thought that passes through your head. That was awfully unnatural. Though, speaking of thoughts...

>>25831005
The car starts to slow to a stop, and you grab on to McIntyre to keep him from spilling out of the seat.

"Mr. Buhl?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you happen to grab the Webley? The one with my prints on it?"

Silence fills the car.

"Thought you had it."

Damn it.

You glance out the window. It didn't look like a farm. Faded red brick building, two story affair, with unwelcome yellow roof. Ugly building. You'd almost think of a school house, if it had a steeple up above. An American flag languidly twitches in the breeze. You currently don't have the capacity to think too much, but you're not that far out of Detroit. No signs to advertise what it was.

Ralph steps out, shakes his head, yanks open the door on McIntyre's side and hefts him out, "Don't worry about it," he mumbles. You note with irritation that his eye has unswollen, and now only looked unsightly purple in the moonlight, "Police know better than to poke in to Indian Affairs. You can step inside," He waves at your head, "See about, uh, getting something on that."

It doesn't sound altogether like a bad idea. You can't sleep any way.

>I think that's that for me. I need to sleep. It's officially 4:11AM over here. Oh, I made this damn thing, I might as well plug it here. Twitter for announcing times. I have no idea how Twitter works. Or time zones. So, my apologies ahead of time.

>https://twitter.com/AssessorJohnson

>I'll stay up a bit later, so, any questions, please speak now, or forever go unanswered. Oh, archive, I should archive this.

>>25831119
Damn you you gun fetishists, why did you have to do a thing!

>>25831126
I'm very sorry

>>25831119
Do you have any idea what timezone you are? Could you maybe make a twitter post thingy, when you start the next thread? And when can we go briefcase shopping?

File: 1373023190661.jpg-(24 KB, 550x383, WebleyFosbery1.jpg)

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>>25831126
It's not their fault. Who could resist this?

But in all seriousness, you got your ass kicked by that poltergeist hard. To an alarming degree. I mean, you even gave up a little bit for the 4d100, and still got creamed. Seriously, the dice gods hated Tim and his Webley nabbing ways there.

>>25831142
Sorry, I am Pacific Standard Time, US west coast. I'll make a twitter posty for that.

Actually, it'd simplify things if I just posted what time I was doing things 4chan time, wouldn't it? Would anybody object to that? And I'm thinking Thursday again, 6:00PM my time, which I guess 4chan time is 21:00? That sound good to anybody?

And yes, I think after this thread, Mr. Johnson deserves a briefcase. So, this upcoming session after getting through some bullshit.

>>25831126
Can't help it, really. Sticky fingers and all. My apologies.

>>25831119
>any questions, please speak now, or forever go unanswered.

Hmm... I think I'd rather try and take a shot of figuring stuff out IC.

I'm gonna compile some stuff I noticed that may be relevant for our future decisions in this quest.

>Suits seem to be an important thing for these guys. (Ralph got angry when we grabbed his suit, McIntyre's suit seems important to Ralph as well.)
We should ask Tom or Ralph if there's a significance there.
>Strange baubles that are out of place (see suits above)
>Invitations to come inside a household seem to be of relevance as well (Mr. Low is our only basis for this though.)
In the future, perhaps it might be best to not reveal our affiliation with the Bureau, until we are invited inside?

Besides these, next order of business is briefcase shopping and checking back with Mr. Hamilton's secretary(?), whose name escapes me at the moment, and learn what she found out about the Bureau for Indian Affairs.

Thanks for the quest run IR.

>>25831162

Clearly the gun has been implicitly cursed by us shooting its proprietor and not checking his wounds. We have also failed a citizen, innocent by default. Serve us right.