December 20th, evening
The hateful orb has dropped below the skyline. The long shadows of the towers already bring night to the streets. Honest men have long since shut themselves away. In the darkness men bent on murder move. And this One also.
They prey on one another. This is as it should be. Fear and desperation distilled into exquisite suffering. A banquet for the senses they don't posses. This One savors.
Under the streets the dead lie silent by the water. The ones this One has shriven so close to perfection are gone. The harsh smoke of the guns lies with them. This one crosses the kill sharp senses filtering out the familiar tags of the shriven, the sweet call of blood, and the killing smoke.
Those who did this. Their scent is distinct, harsh with chemicals and ripe with health. What One has found can be followed.
Followed out into a long winter's night.
December 22nd, night
They went to ground in the stone and glass edifice. Many pulses throb in there. Many quicksilver minds think. Too many for this little One.
It watched all through the harsh day. Men worked at their stupid projects of beating wood and moving stone. Some left with a purpose, small groups with sharp metal weapons, to the west. Others returned. As the orb fell below the land another went out. One followed.
They met with another small group. They greeted each other in their fashion. Senseless gabble One had beaten from the shriven. The group One followed settled into hollows dug in the earth. Those who'd been here first left for the stones.
One settled. One cast a fine net over quicksilver minds. Hours sifting, digging, pushing. A man fell asleep. The other two did not notice. Another fell. The last continued to speak in low tones imaging answers. Soon it to slumped to sleep.
One's search gave it faces and harsh garbled names. Five; Major, Ivan, Doc, Donnie, and Root. Five would answer. But first One needs be fed.
A shadow falls on the sleeping men. Then no more.
December 23rd, early morning
"There it is, soldier-boy, River Park."
"How long to shore?"
"Never. Harbor Rats aren't welcome here. I'll not risk my crew or ship on Hizzoner's mercy." The captain of the Pioneer leans on the rail. "But then you knew that when you came aboard."
Jones curses his fate. His only means of transport to the island and the leader's thoughts are malleable as mud. This isn't the missing tooth ache of those he follows. No, this man is entirely natural, a frustrating sport.
"Yes, I have an inflatable."
"Best get in it. We got places to go."
December 23rd, evening
Kilpatrick sits among his finery. The finest silk and softest linens this ruin of a world has to offer. He waits on his kin.
Jones is frog marched into the room. Kilpatrick smiles to see the anger and shame war on his face. At his gesture the men release Jones. At a second they leave the two. Kilpatrick feels the slick force of a push strike the left most man.
"Brother, what have you done to mine own."
Jones runs bruised arms. "Nothing he wasn't inclined to. After his drinks instead of a weak slave he'll beat on a strong soldier. It is minor recompense."
"Not polite..."
"And your welcome was!" Jones snarls. "I was expected. 'Your own' gave me a coarse greeting and a common beating. I'll take justice where I find it."
Kilpatrick's smile is purest frost. "This land was given unto me and me alone. You are here on sufferance. Take nothing unless you're prepared to answer for it."
"You wouldn't! Father has instructed you.."
Colder still. "Father has requested. I accepted for him. No one instructs here. Understand."
Jones shivers in the cold grip of his brother's strength. "I. Understand."
"Yes and as to your treatment, we have experienced a disturbance this day. Two of the menials were slain and another taken. It was no game of mine. Later, I am told the hovel of some of the breeders was entered. Nothing was taken and none were used. How strange. They were asked things." Kilpatrick stands. He places his hands on Jones' shivering shoulders. Looks deep into his eyes. "I've taken those sights into me. Open yourself and I will see if there truly common cause."
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
081: A Short Hike II
Leonid, December 20th, 2000
They don't see me until I let them, poor weak-eyed citymen. Just like earlier they make noises to scare me off only now it is Disciple turf. I let them run on. I've got a message to deliver once they're tired enough they may listen. If more of their people show up, good, then more listen.
Sad, I am not moving on, the wire collector gets up in my face. He looks desperate. "You have to go. We could get hurt for just speaking with you. Go, before Ty or BT show up." His hands dance nervously.
"I'll talk to them too," I answer.
He wipes his hands on his coat. "Please, you'll die if you stay here." He looks around. His tongue keeps licking at his chapped lips. "You need to go now!"
I shake my head. That was loud enough for my comrades to hear. I hope nothing stupid happens.
I'm almost surprised when the gun comes out. He's quick. The little .32 revolvers pointed in my face. It shakes. "Leave, now."
I give him just a hint of teeth in my smile. "Not a good idea. You think I am alone?"
He looks about nervously the idea may not have crossed his mind. Before he can a .32 caliber rejoinder I ask, "Is the child back yet?" A blank look for the ages. "We met him and a few others further north yesterday. They were hunting Dewayne and his family."
"Dewayne. You ran into Mash?"
"Yeah, I think that was his name," I hit the 'was' hard. "I think this is his '16 right here."
He takes a step back still covering me with the popgun. "Let me see."
"See?"
"The base," he says impatiently, "his name's on the base."
I pull the M16 over by the strap and turn it over. There, on the butt stock, is MASH crudely carved into the plastic. "Yes, that's him."
The pistol lowers. "You killed him. You killed the rest?"
"All except the child. Thirteenish, gaunt, called himself Reese. Sent him back with a message. How it was received?"
"We haven't seen him. What, what are you going to do now?"
"Let me introduce you to some people." I signal my comrades. Even without drink, Leo makes friends.
--------------------------------------
Kapitan Paterson. I know she's major, but for too long she's been Kapitan, I keep slipping. Kapitan Paterson tells them what our fellow troops have been up to the past few months. How they're here now and what they intend to do. Some of the faces close up. Others, including my pistol-packing friend, open up. They have questions, many questions.
I think it is Dewayne and his family that convinces them. She speaks with confidence and knowledge about their appearance, behavior, and treatment. If we had taken them prisoner we'd know things, but not all of these. The locals have been treated harshly, first by disaster, then the neighbors, and finally each other. She makes no apology or promise. But I can hear it in her voice, "not again, never again, not on my watch."
The pistoleer, Jerry, asks for us to let him talk to his group. They huddle, he argues. His friend's alive. He's going to find him. They're raiders/slavers/eaters. If they were raiders we'd be dead by now or in chains. We can't leave our families. Take them with. Food? Look at them. They're getting more than a Disciple gunman is. They argue and we let them.
Jerry turns back to us. "I want to leave. So do some of the others, but they're afraid. That gun might just be a trick. Everyone knows Mash liked to leave his name on people."
I answer, "What do we need to do?"
"Show us, there's only two left in the house, BT and Ty, they're guarding the food stores. If you can take them down, we can take the food we've worked for, and follow you out."
Kapitan, "Is there anyone else there? Women or children?"
"A few women, none that would fight you. No kids."
"Good, I'd rather not kill someone not deserving it. You'll lead us there?"
He swallows convulsively, "Yes."
I pull Mash's '16 around. "Can you shoot?" At his nod I hand over the rifle and magazine. He checks the magazine. It is topped up. Seats the mag and sites out onto the park. Surprisingly he hands it back.
"Later." He looks unhappily about. "You'll need me at the door to bring them out. I can tell them all about you taking the rest of the crew prisoner. They'll come running."
Kapitan nods. I tell him, "That is a good, simple plan. You know them. They'll do this."
He nods affirmative.
"Good then, you can have this after."
----------------------------------------------------
Two dead men later and things heat up. Jerry and six others with family in tow are dumping as much food as they can carry out the back into a cut down pick-up with traces for five men to pull. They're moving as fast as they can since one of the dead men had a finger on an unsafed gun. Sounds carry.
We're watching north and south down the park when the first unexpected arrival shows. Little Reese, hands bound behind, kicks at the back door followed by jeers from the locals. He spits insults back and squeals when Kapitan pulls the door open.
"You're late child. It wasn't that far a walk. Where have you been."
"Oh God lady, demons. There were demons. I had to hide."
"Somebody tell me what are demons?"
Jerry, following the kid in with Mash's M16 in his hands, answers, "Cannibals. They're crazy, demented, demons." If that boy were alone he'd be eating the end of the stock.
Kapitan grabs Reese by the collar of his jacket and manhandles him to the front door. "Look there at Ty and BT. They're dead too now." I smell fresh urine. "You got one more chance." She shoves him out. "Go tell the rest instead."
Jerry makes his way to the door as Reese scrambles down the stairs. Kapitan stops him, "What did he do?"
"Nothing. Everything. He joined up. Took Dewayne's daughter, Jen. I'd beat the fool boy senseless if I could."
"There'll be time for that later. I promise. We need to get your people out to safety first."
"Right. I need to go get Charlene. I won't touch him."
She lets him go out the front. Must see something I didn't. "They about ready to go?" she asks.
A shot rings out in the street. Alphabit is first out the door. Kapitan and I jam up together trying to be next.
Alphabit readies his M16, no his attached grenade launcher and drops one down the street. What was a group of a dozen racing down the side of the park turns into borsch. I push through, drop to my knee, and service those still moving. Kapitan's M60 lays fire down the street.
Alphabit scrambles out into the street under our cover. Jerry's down in the middle while the kid huddles behind a concrete planter. "Doc!," he shouts, "Man down!"
---------------------------------------------------
Those locals still with us have finished loading the wagon. Jerry and Doc go on top. Doc's got him stabilized, but the round went through his lung. He needs to get to Columbia as soon as possible. Four volunteers lay into the traces. The kid gets set in the lead. The men behind have choice words for him after they get it moving. Others walk beside carrying scant possessions or bags of food.
Alphabit left a few surprises on the way into their stores. Poisoned fruit.
They're watching us. I can feel it. Probably from across the park in the cover of the buildings. I figure we'll pick up a tail as we head back. I've got permission to neutralize them if I see them.
----------------------------------------------------
Two hours in before I spot the tail. They're way back. I signal the Kapitan and pull back.
I find myself a good spot in cover of abandoned cars with an open doorway to my back. I plan to strike and pull back and around for the next shot. There are four moving from cover to cover up the roadway.
I'm laying the SVD's sights on them when four become three and those three drop down into cover. I wait a breath. Where's the forth? One begins shouting uncalled for thing about my mother. I don't have a shot, but I saw where he went to ground. I put a round through the car side which only makes him shout more harshly. I still don't see the fourth. Time to egress.
Back into the apartment and up the stairs to another firing position. The stairs crack.
FUCK, my balls.
I think I choked off the scream. The dancing lights fade from my sight. One leg is all the way down through the stairs. Right up to my groin. The other leg's stretched back along the stairs. I can feel the blood seeping down my limb. I try to pull up, but the motherless boards bite in before I can move more than a centimeter. I'm stuck and they're outside.
I pull a pair of grenades from my harness. Set them on the stair above me. The SVD on the one above that. I can contort myself around with the MP5. Only once I have the door covered do I tap the radio.
The Kapitan takes my breathy report. Alphabit and Rutkowski are heading back. I'm to hold on. No other choice. At least I can see my last position from here.
The wait is terrible. My free leg and back want to cramp. The steady drip of blood and pain let me know something is in there holding it open.
The taunts have been continuing. They almost cover the rapid footsteps. A shotgunner springs into view facing my old position. Hello, number four. He takes two bursts. The MP5SD's silenced, but his shotgun discharges as he falls.
The taunts turn to queries. No answers. I wait. Help is far away. Please be stupid.
More footsteps. They stop near the doorway. I can place him behind the post of the lintel. he can see his friend and is putting it together. I cover open doorway.
His head darts into view and quickly withdraws. I hold my fire. It is midday. Very light out there and dark in here. He couldn't see me. Could he?
He'd do things different if he had. Instead of throwing a grenade in or spraying the stairway he slides slowly around the frame. The gun's pointed back down the corridor beside the stairs not up them. He joins his friend among the dead.
I wait.
------------------------------------------------
Alphabit
Leo really outdid himself. Why he'd tried those stairs escapes me. Even to a casual glance they were unsafe. He colorfully explains that he isn't a trained civil engineer as I point out the warning signs. I remind him, "I'm your way out."
Rutkowski follows my directions, straddling the stringers to either side below Leo. He holds him under the arms as I cut away the tread and riser. They've dug in deep and his leg is covered with gore from the open wounds. Wish we'd brought Doc. Once free and tended the flow slows. I give him a shoulder while Rutkowski takes watch. We'll swap as I get tired.
Rut strips the two bodies of arms. The major knows we're on our way back.
What a day!
They don't see me until I let them, poor weak-eyed citymen. Just like earlier they make noises to scare me off only now it is Disciple turf. I let them run on. I've got a message to deliver once they're tired enough they may listen. If more of their people show up, good, then more listen.
Sad, I am not moving on, the wire collector gets up in my face. He looks desperate. "You have to go. We could get hurt for just speaking with you. Go, before Ty or BT show up." His hands dance nervously.
"I'll talk to them too," I answer.
He wipes his hands on his coat. "Please, you'll die if you stay here." He looks around. His tongue keeps licking at his chapped lips. "You need to go now!"
I shake my head. That was loud enough for my comrades to hear. I hope nothing stupid happens.
I'm almost surprised when the gun comes out. He's quick. The little .32 revolvers pointed in my face. It shakes. "Leave, now."
I give him just a hint of teeth in my smile. "Not a good idea. You think I am alone?"
He looks about nervously the idea may not have crossed his mind. Before he can a .32 caliber rejoinder I ask, "Is the child back yet?" A blank look for the ages. "We met him and a few others further north yesterday. They were hunting Dewayne and his family."
"Dewayne. You ran into Mash?"
"Yeah, I think that was his name," I hit the 'was' hard. "I think this is his '16 right here."
He takes a step back still covering me with the popgun. "Let me see."
"See?"
"The base," he says impatiently, "his name's on the base."
I pull the M16 over by the strap and turn it over. There, on the butt stock, is MASH crudely carved into the plastic. "Yes, that's him."
The pistol lowers. "You killed him. You killed the rest?"
"All except the child. Thirteenish, gaunt, called himself Reese. Sent him back with a message. How it was received?"
"We haven't seen him. What, what are you going to do now?"
"Let me introduce you to some people." I signal my comrades. Even without drink, Leo makes friends.
--------------------------------------
Kapitan Paterson. I know she's major, but for too long she's been Kapitan, I keep slipping. Kapitan Paterson tells them what our fellow troops have been up to the past few months. How they're here now and what they intend to do. Some of the faces close up. Others, including my pistol-packing friend, open up. They have questions, many questions.
I think it is Dewayne and his family that convinces them. She speaks with confidence and knowledge about their appearance, behavior, and treatment. If we had taken them prisoner we'd know things, but not all of these. The locals have been treated harshly, first by disaster, then the neighbors, and finally each other. She makes no apology or promise. But I can hear it in her voice, "not again, never again, not on my watch."
The pistoleer, Jerry, asks for us to let him talk to his group. They huddle, he argues. His friend's alive. He's going to find him. They're raiders/slavers/eaters. If they were raiders we'd be dead by now or in chains. We can't leave our families. Take them with. Food? Look at them. They're getting more than a Disciple gunman is. They argue and we let them.
Jerry turns back to us. "I want to leave. So do some of the others, but they're afraid. That gun might just be a trick. Everyone knows Mash liked to leave his name on people."
I answer, "What do we need to do?"
"Show us, there's only two left in the house, BT and Ty, they're guarding the food stores. If you can take them down, we can take the food we've worked for, and follow you out."
Kapitan, "Is there anyone else there? Women or children?"
"A few women, none that would fight you. No kids."
"Good, I'd rather not kill someone not deserving it. You'll lead us there?"
He swallows convulsively, "Yes."
I pull Mash's '16 around. "Can you shoot?" At his nod I hand over the rifle and magazine. He checks the magazine. It is topped up. Seats the mag and sites out onto the park. Surprisingly he hands it back.
"Later." He looks unhappily about. "You'll need me at the door to bring them out. I can tell them all about you taking the rest of the crew prisoner. They'll come running."
Kapitan nods. I tell him, "That is a good, simple plan. You know them. They'll do this."
He nods affirmative.
"Good then, you can have this after."
----------------------------------------------------
Two dead men later and things heat up. Jerry and six others with family in tow are dumping as much food as they can carry out the back into a cut down pick-up with traces for five men to pull. They're moving as fast as they can since one of the dead men had a finger on an unsafed gun. Sounds carry.
We're watching north and south down the park when the first unexpected arrival shows. Little Reese, hands bound behind, kicks at the back door followed by jeers from the locals. He spits insults back and squeals when Kapitan pulls the door open.
"You're late child. It wasn't that far a walk. Where have you been."
"Oh God lady, demons. There were demons. I had to hide."
"Somebody tell me what are demons?"
Jerry, following the kid in with Mash's M16 in his hands, answers, "Cannibals. They're crazy, demented, demons." If that boy were alone he'd be eating the end of the stock.
Kapitan grabs Reese by the collar of his jacket and manhandles him to the front door. "Look there at Ty and BT. They're dead too now." I smell fresh urine. "You got one more chance." She shoves him out. "Go tell the rest instead."
Jerry makes his way to the door as Reese scrambles down the stairs. Kapitan stops him, "What did he do?"
"Nothing. Everything. He joined up. Took Dewayne's daughter, Jen. I'd beat the fool boy senseless if I could."
"There'll be time for that later. I promise. We need to get your people out to safety first."
"Right. I need to go get Charlene. I won't touch him."
She lets him go out the front. Must see something I didn't. "They about ready to go?" she asks.
A shot rings out in the street. Alphabit is first out the door. Kapitan and I jam up together trying to be next.
Alphabit readies his M16, no his attached grenade launcher and drops one down the street. What was a group of a dozen racing down the side of the park turns into borsch. I push through, drop to my knee, and service those still moving. Kapitan's M60 lays fire down the street.
Alphabit scrambles out into the street under our cover. Jerry's down in the middle while the kid huddles behind a concrete planter. "Doc!," he shouts, "Man down!"
---------------------------------------------------
Those locals still with us have finished loading the wagon. Jerry and Doc go on top. Doc's got him stabilized, but the round went through his lung. He needs to get to Columbia as soon as possible. Four volunteers lay into the traces. The kid gets set in the lead. The men behind have choice words for him after they get it moving. Others walk beside carrying scant possessions or bags of food.
Alphabit left a few surprises on the way into their stores. Poisoned fruit.
They're watching us. I can feel it. Probably from across the park in the cover of the buildings. I figure we'll pick up a tail as we head back. I've got permission to neutralize them if I see them.
----------------------------------------------------
Two hours in before I spot the tail. They're way back. I signal the Kapitan and pull back.
I find myself a good spot in cover of abandoned cars with an open doorway to my back. I plan to strike and pull back and around for the next shot. There are four moving from cover to cover up the roadway.
I'm laying the SVD's sights on them when four become three and those three drop down into cover. I wait a breath. Where's the forth? One begins shouting uncalled for thing about my mother. I don't have a shot, but I saw where he went to ground. I put a round through the car side which only makes him shout more harshly. I still don't see the fourth. Time to egress.
Back into the apartment and up the stairs to another firing position. The stairs crack.
FUCK, my balls.
I think I choked off the scream. The dancing lights fade from my sight. One leg is all the way down through the stairs. Right up to my groin. The other leg's stretched back along the stairs. I can feel the blood seeping down my limb. I try to pull up, but the motherless boards bite in before I can move more than a centimeter. I'm stuck and they're outside.
I pull a pair of grenades from my harness. Set them on the stair above me. The SVD on the one above that. I can contort myself around with the MP5. Only once I have the door covered do I tap the radio.
The Kapitan takes my breathy report. Alphabit and Rutkowski are heading back. I'm to hold on. No other choice. At least I can see my last position from here.
The wait is terrible. My free leg and back want to cramp. The steady drip of blood and pain let me know something is in there holding it open.
The taunts have been continuing. They almost cover the rapid footsteps. A shotgunner springs into view facing my old position. Hello, number four. He takes two bursts. The MP5SD's silenced, but his shotgun discharges as he falls.
The taunts turn to queries. No answers. I wait. Help is far away. Please be stupid.
More footsteps. They stop near the doorway. I can place him behind the post of the lintel. he can see his friend and is putting it together. I cover open doorway.
His head darts into view and quickly withdraws. I hold my fire. It is midday. Very light out there and dark in here. He couldn't see me. Could he?
He'd do things different if he had. Instead of throwing a grenade in or spraying the stairway he slides slowly around the frame. The gun's pointed back down the corridor beside the stairs not up them. He joins his friend among the dead.
I wait.
------------------------------------------------
Alphabit
Leo really outdid himself. Why he'd tried those stairs escapes me. Even to a casual glance they were unsafe. He colorfully explains that he isn't a trained civil engineer as I point out the warning signs. I remind him, "I'm your way out."
Rutkowski follows my directions, straddling the stringers to either side below Leo. He holds him under the arms as I cut away the tread and riser. They've dug in deep and his leg is covered with gore from the open wounds. Wish we'd brought Doc. Once free and tended the flow slows. I give him a shoulder while Rutkowski takes watch. We'll swap as I get tired.
Rut strips the two bodies of arms. The major knows we're on our way back.
What a day!
Friday, July 13, 2012
080: A Short Hike
Paterson, December 19th, 2000
Leo took his squad out early in the morning. He wanted to go "shopping" before our big trip. I expected him back by noon with scavenged supplies. Instead, he and his men returned two hours later with an 8 foot pine on their shoulders. He went and chopped down a god-damned Christmas tree.
After setting it up in the lobby, Ed and Griffith materialized from the bowels of Columbia with boxes of decorations. Tinsel strings, colored balls, and a star for the top. The light strings wouldn't work so Griffith went back down to look for packaged bulbs.
Our new guests were attracted to the excited sounds of the troops and just stood agog at the sight. The older man, Dewayne, left with tears in his eyes while the rest sat and watched in silence. Leo's cavalry, the six Russian deserters from Poland, took to stringing around the room and putting up cutouts of Santa, reindeer, elves and presents on the walls with small nails. All the while gabbling happily to each other in Russian. I know I heard more than one comment of how tasty Rudolph looked.
Too soon we had to put aside the levity. We had a trip planned, a short hike down island. We planned to get a look, but not too close, of New York Presbyterian, CUNY, Hizzoner's north edge, and, maybe, Harlem. Our team would be small just the old crew and Rutkowski. Ed's still recovering from his gun shot, three inches higher and Doc would have gotten a volunteer to see how much we can regrow, and Lt. George has command. He might be from Intel, but the men are veterans of Warsaw and Poland. They know he knows his stuff.
We're traveling light. Food for two days, sleeping bags, basic gear, and weapons. We'll have to overnight in the south. I expect the City is a different place at night. Remember, it never sleeps.
----------------------------------------------
Side streets are clogged with vehicles caught in motion when the EMP hit. The main roads have had the blockages shoved to the sides of the road. Some look like they were pushed, others forced aside by a bulldozer, a few are flattened. In all cases they're sitting on rotted rubber. Most have missing gas caps and broken windows or hanging doors. The silence, once we get a block from Columbia, is oppressive.
Near Columbia there are signs of violence and neglect; broken windows, fire damage, forced doors. The further south we go, the worse it gets. More fire, more looting. I tell the others most of these buildings aren't safe. Let Alphabit or I inspect before we go in.
I've seen ruin in Europe. This is worse. It's home. And I think it could have all been prevented if someone had done something different.
------------------------------------------------
We've been following our refugees route down Amsterdam Avenue. Highbridge park has fallen away to our right and we're back in residential spaces. My thoughts get darker the further south we head. Leo brings me back to the present by signaling contact. We drop to either side of the street in the cover of wrecked cars. A band of ten is moving north. They're not in uniform, but they have a uniformity about them, a similar way of moving and individualized insignia on their chests or shoulders. The Star of David predominates, but there's three tined pitchforks as well. These are the Disciples. The group Dewayne and his family fled. I ID a pair of M16s, the rest are armed with a collection of civilian shotgun and rifles.
Leo's already lined up a shot with the SVD and the others are taking aim. The gangers are a good ways down yet so I order them to hold fire. It may not do any good, but I'll talk first.
I call out, but don't expose myself. They go to ground or cover among the cars. I talk. Their leader insults. He's taking no lip from a woman.
Rutkowski calls out in Polish, "Two went over cars on the right. They're flanking."
Leo puts the leader down, so much for chain of command, and begins a methodical extermination as the rest of us supply suppression fire. They try to fight back, but they're not prepared for the level of firepower we could bring to bear. Alphabit took a round to the vest, but waved off Doc. Rutkowski took one of the flankers prisoner. We've got another four bleeding out on the ground. We strip guns, ammo, and food and leave them there. Leo cuts the insignia from them before starting a little fire. The prisoner, a damn boy child, watches with hard eyes.
He talks. He's with Masher, the dead loud mouth. Masher ran their group. They're up north hunting some workers who got lost. Ok, fled or captured by another group. Ok, ok, fled. They're all Disciples.
Names, numbers, locations, as best as we can get out of him. His group and another have the Jackie Robinson Park area. Other Disciples are to the east and south of there. There's 6 other groups like his. I infer there are another 600 to 700 people under them doing the work while they oversee and guard. Slaves, although he insists otherwise.
I leave his hands tied. Give him the speech. "The governments back. We're tasked with supplying medical and disaster relief for the area. The Allen Pavilion is open for the ill and injured. Payment is on a sliding scale." Alphabit stuffs a copy of the announcement into his jacket.
"We will not tolerate slavery, extortion, rape, and other crimes against the American people. We will negotiate with groups that repudiate these behaviors. We will talk first, just like we did here, but we will finish any violence, just like we did here. Am I clear?"
He acknowledges me sullenly. I wait for him to leave. "Say it child."
He bristles, some pride left, and asks, "Will you untie me?"
"Is it dangerous between here and your turf."
"No, but," he nods at his expiring friends, "I can't help them like this."
"You're not helping them. Now go."
"Wait one," calls Alphabit. He turns from guard position and pulls a handful of census forms from his pack.
"We're also conducting the national census!" He exclaims happily, "Please fill out your form and return it by January 1st or your most convenient date. I've included extras for you to give out to your neighbors and coworkers. Remember, it's the law!"
The boy runs off before we regain our senses and shoot him. It is obvious we're a bunch of crazies.
"Alphabit, you enjoyed that a little too much."
"Yes Major, a man has to take pride in his work."
"Keep it up."
------------------------------------------------------
New York Prespeterian and the 30st Street precinct are complete busts. The damage to structures is extensive. They're unsafe and I doubt much has survived of use. I scratch them off the list of potential salvage sites.
CUNY also bore the brunt of riots and fires. Looks more like riots than fire though. We saw a mountain lion giving us the eyeball from a third floor window. Wonder who let the animals out and how many there are. We give her a wide berth. They've been known to attack hikers. I'm loath to kill it if it has managed to survive this long.
We entered Harlem at a crawl, keeping to side streets and back alleyways. We didn't see anyone until we swung back to the north, but I always felt eyes on me. Don't think anyone was actually watching us. We've gotten good at the sneak since Poland. Like Gunny used to say, "Can't stop here, this is Ivan country."
We'd circled Jackie Robinson Park on our approach and planned to just squeak by on the north east side to have a look when our people moment occurred. I'd taken the drag position and been feeling edgy the last few blocks. I could almost hear someone, a snuffle and drag, but hadn't spotted the source.
He'd been stalking me. I heard his rush and got around in time to bring the 60 up and shove him away. He was beyond ragged, rail thin with a length of pipe as a weapon. He looked at me with hungry eyes, snarling as the rst of the team turned, and bolted off to the west.
I signaled for silence and pursuit. We chased him a block before he headed down into a subway entrance. From the top we could hear the faint sounds of shuffling, soon stilled, and the lapping of water.
I had a bad feeling as to what his condition and that look indicated. We prepped our Night Vision Gear. Leo and Alphabit took point carrying silenced weapons. Leo had his favorite toy, the MP5SD, while Alphabit had one of the Skorpions we'd taken in Poland. The rest of us carried our standards in case that wasn't enough.
The stairs bent around two landings before Leo signaled halt. At the base of the third flight the stairwell opened up onto the subway landing. A half a dozen figures waited in the dark clutching clubs and bricks. They stood, unnaturally quiet, turning their heads and snuffling the air for any sign of us. There were no light sources. Leo drew back around the bend. I gave him the assent to use a concussion grenade.
The clap of the explosion reflected off the landing. Before the ringing could die down Leo, Alphabit and Rutkowski sprang into action, kicking aside weapons, adn taking the prisoners in hand. Doc and I provided cover from the landing. They'd secured four of them when an unholy howl rose from deeper in. Leo's gun snapped to and sprayed the right flank with 9mm as fast as he could pull the trigger. It wasn't enough and bodies fell around and then smashed into them.
There was a cold moment of hesitation from Doc and I. Firing into that mass, our first reaction, would get somebody, one or more of ours, dead. "Concussion!" I shouted to Doc as I grabbed on off my gear. A quick glance to confirm it was one of the concussion grenades and then a toss into the mass. Doc followed suit and we pulled behind the stairwell again.
The twin claps were followed by screams and sobs. Doc and I came back around at a run. God, there must have been 20 of them. We switched to pistols and finished it.
Doc and I found the nests after securing the survivors. Nests littered with cracked bones. Some were small and fine; rats and pigeons. The others, long bones, ribs, crushed skulls, were all too human. Jesus wept, they aren't the Donner party. You could walk off the island. We'd question them elsewhere. I doubt they'd see the dawn.
Once the men had a chance to recover I sent Leo up to see if the grenades had attracted any more locals. The rest of us got to work on getting our three prisoners ready to move. Leo took his time topside. His hushed report gave me a pause. There's been nearly a dozen men and some sort of technical patrolling the street. They'd passed to the north. We'd stirred them up good.
Plans change. Instead of pushing north and going to ground on the south end of Highland Park we'd have to find a hole nearby and pull it in after us. If they became convinced there was someone present the subway was too obvious a hiding place. Pity, I'd wanted to observe the Disciples near Jackie Robinson and their early day routine, but not with if I had to play in traffic.
-------------------------------------
A solid basement. One shelter half and the sleeping bags served as ground cover. The others, double layered and tied off halfway to the ceiling, hung to trap body heat. Our prisoners sullen, silent, and lousy. Doc's already told us we're getting the full body treatment once we're back to base. Tick-picker.
I thought they weren't communicative, silent and stubborn as any Ivan loyalist. No, I think they can't. Their vocalizations are limited; raw barks and snarls, interrogative coos, and distressed sighs. Two years. Two fucking years. What's been done to us.
We eat, sharing our food with the condemned. We won't be able to take them with us and we can't leave them behind. There's ample evidence of the danger they pose back at the station. No, we feed them and tie them for the night. We'll stand two on, two off. Alphabit's taking the full night off. He's running ragged from our two encounters. I tell him he shouldn't have waved Doc's ministrations off so quickly. He grunts acknowledgement before rolling over and dropping off to sleep.
-------------------------------------
No trucks in the night. No one comes within visual. We can hear them. Running steps and gunshots in the night. Sharp, isolated incidents with long gaps of silence through the dark hours. Next time.... we'll pick a high spot. Get a good top down view.
I wonder what the child gangster's return has stirred among his fellow. I really regret not getting to Highland. We'd be able to look down the length of Jackie Robinson. Next time. Next time.
-------------------------------------
Leonid, December 20th, 2000
Moving before the sun. Never liked predawn march, but this buys us time we lost yesterday.
I take care of the man eaters. Kapitan took enough of them before. Besides, I am good with the knife. the rats will feed well.
As the sun reddens the east I spot movement. The team halts at my signal and I slide ahead. Three men, strange, no guns. I'm used to everyone, even the civilians, having something. I thought America would be worse. Nyet, they have lines, nets, and spears. I signal, slow advance. We follow.
Ah, they're running trap lines. Into buildings they go. Out they come. New lines traded for prey filled ones. Rat stew. Nets for pigeon later in the day. They're aware of their surroundings, but it isn't enough.
I'm standing, resting against a panel van, guns slung as they exit another gutted tenement. I greet them, palms up and arms out, "Hello, friends, I mean no harm." They level spears. Their eye whites wide in dark faces.
Ah, if only I had vodka. Drinks lubricate strangers.
They make with bravado. "This is Mau-Mau turf. They'll kill you. You need to go," they say.
I give them calm and confidence in return. They have pointy sticks. I have family with guns. I can wait on them.
I'm actually starting to enjoy this. They are completely baffled. I'm not scared or threatening them. Their worst taunts fall away with no retaliation. They're at a point; either they'll leave as I'm no danger or curiosity will win out. They want to know. I keep the gentle smile.
I tell them in broad strokes about Columbia and our mission; medical assistance, reconstruction, and the fool's mission of the census. The inevitable question rises, "Where were you? Why'd you abandon us?" I tell them of Poland; desperate fighting, stalemate, and withdrawal. Forty thousand men, combat veterans all, returning home to help their countrymen. It does have a mythic sound to it. They want to believe.
I put the flyers on the ground, census and Columbia announcement. The others rise at my signal. I give them another smile, "Combat veterans, friend. The best of all that left. You let the Mau-Maus know."
We leave them in the street. Once we've cleared their line of sight we move into double time, zigzagging down blocks, before going to ground. Sure enough, we hear the technical moving around. They went right home and alerted the guard. The truck growls a few blocks south of us and stops. It moves off west than back south. Must be the limits of their 'turf'.
Kapitan thanks me for my work. Says I'll get another round with the next group. I know what she's doing. I do.
-------------------------------------------------
The map reads Jackie Robinson park. The eye reads a snow covered waste with the remains of concrete planters and low walls around the edges. The sounds of hammers and axes draws us to the north end. A work crew of seven is busy breaking sidewalks and taking down a wood frame. Another man walks from a neighboring house curling copper wire around his arm.
I sling the SVD beside the shotgun and M16 I took from our Disciple friends. I will make more fiends now.
Leo took his squad out early in the morning. He wanted to go "shopping" before our big trip. I expected him back by noon with scavenged supplies. Instead, he and his men returned two hours later with an 8 foot pine on their shoulders. He went and chopped down a god-damned Christmas tree.
After setting it up in the lobby, Ed and Griffith materialized from the bowels of Columbia with boxes of decorations. Tinsel strings, colored balls, and a star for the top. The light strings wouldn't work so Griffith went back down to look for packaged bulbs.
Our new guests were attracted to the excited sounds of the troops and just stood agog at the sight. The older man, Dewayne, left with tears in his eyes while the rest sat and watched in silence. Leo's cavalry, the six Russian deserters from Poland, took to stringing around the room and putting up cutouts of Santa, reindeer, elves and presents on the walls with small nails. All the while gabbling happily to each other in Russian. I know I heard more than one comment of how tasty Rudolph looked.
Too soon we had to put aside the levity. We had a trip planned, a short hike down island. We planned to get a look, but not too close, of New York Presbyterian, CUNY, Hizzoner's north edge, and, maybe, Harlem. Our team would be small just the old crew and Rutkowski. Ed's still recovering from his gun shot, three inches higher and Doc would have gotten a volunteer to see how much we can regrow, and Lt. George has command. He might be from Intel, but the men are veterans of Warsaw and Poland. They know he knows his stuff.
We're traveling light. Food for two days, sleeping bags, basic gear, and weapons. We'll have to overnight in the south. I expect the City is a different place at night. Remember, it never sleeps.
----------------------------------------------
Side streets are clogged with vehicles caught in motion when the EMP hit. The main roads have had the blockages shoved to the sides of the road. Some look like they were pushed, others forced aside by a bulldozer, a few are flattened. In all cases they're sitting on rotted rubber. Most have missing gas caps and broken windows or hanging doors. The silence, once we get a block from Columbia, is oppressive.
Near Columbia there are signs of violence and neglect; broken windows, fire damage, forced doors. The further south we go, the worse it gets. More fire, more looting. I tell the others most of these buildings aren't safe. Let Alphabit or I inspect before we go in.
I've seen ruin in Europe. This is worse. It's home. And I think it could have all been prevented if someone had done something different.
------------------------------------------------
We've been following our refugees route down Amsterdam Avenue. Highbridge park has fallen away to our right and we're back in residential spaces. My thoughts get darker the further south we head. Leo brings me back to the present by signaling contact. We drop to either side of the street in the cover of wrecked cars. A band of ten is moving north. They're not in uniform, but they have a uniformity about them, a similar way of moving and individualized insignia on their chests or shoulders. The Star of David predominates, but there's three tined pitchforks as well. These are the Disciples. The group Dewayne and his family fled. I ID a pair of M16s, the rest are armed with a collection of civilian shotgun and rifles.
Leo's already lined up a shot with the SVD and the others are taking aim. The gangers are a good ways down yet so I order them to hold fire. It may not do any good, but I'll talk first.
I call out, but don't expose myself. They go to ground or cover among the cars. I talk. Their leader insults. He's taking no lip from a woman.
Rutkowski calls out in Polish, "Two went over cars on the right. They're flanking."
Leo puts the leader down, so much for chain of command, and begins a methodical extermination as the rest of us supply suppression fire. They try to fight back, but they're not prepared for the level of firepower we could bring to bear. Alphabit took a round to the vest, but waved off Doc. Rutkowski took one of the flankers prisoner. We've got another four bleeding out on the ground. We strip guns, ammo, and food and leave them there. Leo cuts the insignia from them before starting a little fire. The prisoner, a damn boy child, watches with hard eyes.
He talks. He's with Masher, the dead loud mouth. Masher ran their group. They're up north hunting some workers who got lost. Ok, fled or captured by another group. Ok, ok, fled. They're all Disciples.
Names, numbers, locations, as best as we can get out of him. His group and another have the Jackie Robinson Park area. Other Disciples are to the east and south of there. There's 6 other groups like his. I infer there are another 600 to 700 people under them doing the work while they oversee and guard. Slaves, although he insists otherwise.
I leave his hands tied. Give him the speech. "The governments back. We're tasked with supplying medical and disaster relief for the area. The Allen Pavilion is open for the ill and injured. Payment is on a sliding scale." Alphabit stuffs a copy of the announcement into his jacket.
"We will not tolerate slavery, extortion, rape, and other crimes against the American people. We will negotiate with groups that repudiate these behaviors. We will talk first, just like we did here, but we will finish any violence, just like we did here. Am I clear?"
He acknowledges me sullenly. I wait for him to leave. "Say it child."
He bristles, some pride left, and asks, "Will you untie me?"
"Is it dangerous between here and your turf."
"No, but," he nods at his expiring friends, "I can't help them like this."
"You're not helping them. Now go."
"Wait one," calls Alphabit. He turns from guard position and pulls a handful of census forms from his pack.
"We're also conducting the national census!" He exclaims happily, "Please fill out your form and return it by January 1st or your most convenient date. I've included extras for you to give out to your neighbors and coworkers. Remember, it's the law!"
The boy runs off before we regain our senses and shoot him. It is obvious we're a bunch of crazies.
"Alphabit, you enjoyed that a little too much."
"Yes Major, a man has to take pride in his work."
"Keep it up."
------------------------------------------------------
New York Prespeterian and the 30st Street precinct are complete busts. The damage to structures is extensive. They're unsafe and I doubt much has survived of use. I scratch them off the list of potential salvage sites.
CUNY also bore the brunt of riots and fires. Looks more like riots than fire though. We saw a mountain lion giving us the eyeball from a third floor window. Wonder who let the animals out and how many there are. We give her a wide berth. They've been known to attack hikers. I'm loath to kill it if it has managed to survive this long.
We entered Harlem at a crawl, keeping to side streets and back alleyways. We didn't see anyone until we swung back to the north, but I always felt eyes on me. Don't think anyone was actually watching us. We've gotten good at the sneak since Poland. Like Gunny used to say, "Can't stop here, this is Ivan country."
We'd circled Jackie Robinson Park on our approach and planned to just squeak by on the north east side to have a look when our people moment occurred. I'd taken the drag position and been feeling edgy the last few blocks. I could almost hear someone, a snuffle and drag, but hadn't spotted the source.
He'd been stalking me. I heard his rush and got around in time to bring the 60 up and shove him away. He was beyond ragged, rail thin with a length of pipe as a weapon. He looked at me with hungry eyes, snarling as the rst of the team turned, and bolted off to the west.
I signaled for silence and pursuit. We chased him a block before he headed down into a subway entrance. From the top we could hear the faint sounds of shuffling, soon stilled, and the lapping of water.
I had a bad feeling as to what his condition and that look indicated. We prepped our Night Vision Gear. Leo and Alphabit took point carrying silenced weapons. Leo had his favorite toy, the MP5SD, while Alphabit had one of the Skorpions we'd taken in Poland. The rest of us carried our standards in case that wasn't enough.
The stairs bent around two landings before Leo signaled halt. At the base of the third flight the stairwell opened up onto the subway landing. A half a dozen figures waited in the dark clutching clubs and bricks. They stood, unnaturally quiet, turning their heads and snuffling the air for any sign of us. There were no light sources. Leo drew back around the bend. I gave him the assent to use a concussion grenade.
The clap of the explosion reflected off the landing. Before the ringing could die down Leo, Alphabit and Rutkowski sprang into action, kicking aside weapons, adn taking the prisoners in hand. Doc and I provided cover from the landing. They'd secured four of them when an unholy howl rose from deeper in. Leo's gun snapped to and sprayed the right flank with 9mm as fast as he could pull the trigger. It wasn't enough and bodies fell around and then smashed into them.
There was a cold moment of hesitation from Doc and I. Firing into that mass, our first reaction, would get somebody, one or more of ours, dead. "Concussion!" I shouted to Doc as I grabbed on off my gear. A quick glance to confirm it was one of the concussion grenades and then a toss into the mass. Doc followed suit and we pulled behind the stairwell again.
The twin claps were followed by screams and sobs. Doc and I came back around at a run. God, there must have been 20 of them. We switched to pistols and finished it.
Doc and I found the nests after securing the survivors. Nests littered with cracked bones. Some were small and fine; rats and pigeons. The others, long bones, ribs, crushed skulls, were all too human. Jesus wept, they aren't the Donner party. You could walk off the island. We'd question them elsewhere. I doubt they'd see the dawn.
Once the men had a chance to recover I sent Leo up to see if the grenades had attracted any more locals. The rest of us got to work on getting our three prisoners ready to move. Leo took his time topside. His hushed report gave me a pause. There's been nearly a dozen men and some sort of technical patrolling the street. They'd passed to the north. We'd stirred them up good.
Plans change. Instead of pushing north and going to ground on the south end of Highland Park we'd have to find a hole nearby and pull it in after us. If they became convinced there was someone present the subway was too obvious a hiding place. Pity, I'd wanted to observe the Disciples near Jackie Robinson and their early day routine, but not with if I had to play in traffic.
-------------------------------------
A solid basement. One shelter half and the sleeping bags served as ground cover. The others, double layered and tied off halfway to the ceiling, hung to trap body heat. Our prisoners sullen, silent, and lousy. Doc's already told us we're getting the full body treatment once we're back to base. Tick-picker.
I thought they weren't communicative, silent and stubborn as any Ivan loyalist. No, I think they can't. Their vocalizations are limited; raw barks and snarls, interrogative coos, and distressed sighs. Two years. Two fucking years. What's been done to us.
We eat, sharing our food with the condemned. We won't be able to take them with us and we can't leave them behind. There's ample evidence of the danger they pose back at the station. No, we feed them and tie them for the night. We'll stand two on, two off. Alphabit's taking the full night off. He's running ragged from our two encounters. I tell him he shouldn't have waved Doc's ministrations off so quickly. He grunts acknowledgement before rolling over and dropping off to sleep.
-------------------------------------
No trucks in the night. No one comes within visual. We can hear them. Running steps and gunshots in the night. Sharp, isolated incidents with long gaps of silence through the dark hours. Next time.... we'll pick a high spot. Get a good top down view.
I wonder what the child gangster's return has stirred among his fellow. I really regret not getting to Highland. We'd be able to look down the length of Jackie Robinson. Next time. Next time.
-------------------------------------
Leonid, December 20th, 2000
Moving before the sun. Never liked predawn march, but this buys us time we lost yesterday.
I take care of the man eaters. Kapitan took enough of them before. Besides, I am good with the knife. the rats will feed well.
As the sun reddens the east I spot movement. The team halts at my signal and I slide ahead. Three men, strange, no guns. I'm used to everyone, even the civilians, having something. I thought America would be worse. Nyet, they have lines, nets, and spears. I signal, slow advance. We follow.
Ah, they're running trap lines. Into buildings they go. Out they come. New lines traded for prey filled ones. Rat stew. Nets for pigeon later in the day. They're aware of their surroundings, but it isn't enough.
I'm standing, resting against a panel van, guns slung as they exit another gutted tenement. I greet them, palms up and arms out, "Hello, friends, I mean no harm." They level spears. Their eye whites wide in dark faces.
Ah, if only I had vodka. Drinks lubricate strangers.
They make with bravado. "This is Mau-Mau turf. They'll kill you. You need to go," they say.
I give them calm and confidence in return. They have pointy sticks. I have family with guns. I can wait on them.
I'm actually starting to enjoy this. They are completely baffled. I'm not scared or threatening them. Their worst taunts fall away with no retaliation. They're at a point; either they'll leave as I'm no danger or curiosity will win out. They want to know. I keep the gentle smile.
I tell them in broad strokes about Columbia and our mission; medical assistance, reconstruction, and the fool's mission of the census. The inevitable question rises, "Where were you? Why'd you abandon us?" I tell them of Poland; desperate fighting, stalemate, and withdrawal. Forty thousand men, combat veterans all, returning home to help their countrymen. It does have a mythic sound to it. They want to believe.
I put the flyers on the ground, census and Columbia announcement. The others rise at my signal. I give them another smile, "Combat veterans, friend. The best of all that left. You let the Mau-Maus know."
We leave them in the street. Once we've cleared their line of sight we move into double time, zigzagging down blocks, before going to ground. Sure enough, we hear the technical moving around. They went right home and alerted the guard. The truck growls a few blocks south of us and stops. It moves off west than back south. Must be the limits of their 'turf'.
Kapitan thanks me for my work. Says I'll get another round with the next group. I know what she's doing. I do.
-------------------------------------------------
The map reads Jackie Robinson park. The eye reads a snow covered waste with the remains of concrete planters and low walls around the edges. The sounds of hammers and axes draws us to the north end. A work crew of seven is busy breaking sidewalks and taking down a wood frame. Another man walks from a neighboring house curling copper wire around his arm.
I sling the SVD beside the shotgun and M16 I took from our Disciple friends. I will make more fiends now.
Monday, July 9, 2012
II: House Rules
I'll be writing about my house rules for gun combat and melee in this post as promised, but I'll also be discussing initiative as it exacerbated the gun combat problems.
Initially we played with a pretty solid take of GDW's gun combat. Strength controlling recoil and a whole lot of attacks occurred during your one initiative step a turn. Many times, this resulted in very short exchanges of fire since "kills" would be generated on most targets with a single shot or burst. Also, the big guns were much more controllable, because of their weight and low recoil values, than assault rifles which were supposed to be more controllable. Other than your load limit, there wasn't a reason not to carry an M60 over the M16.
Between this campaign and the previous one we played with three iterations on combat. The following still needs some tweaks, but has been solid for our games.
Initially we played with a pretty solid take of GDW's gun combat. Strength controlling recoil and a whole lot of attacks occurred during your one initiative step a turn. Many times, this resulted in very short exchanges of fire since "kills" would be generated on most targets with a single shot or burst. Also, the big guns were much more controllable, because of their weight and low recoil values, than assault rifles which were supposed to be more controllable. Other than your load limit, there wasn't a reason not to carry an M60 over the M16.
Between this campaign and the previous one we played with three iterations on combat. The following still needs some tweaks, but has been solid for our games.
Initiative
On their initiative, each player gets one action; movement, a shot, melee attack, shouted order, or whatever. They get to act again on their initiative-2, the initiative-4, and so on. Since the players can't eliminate all the opposition in their first set of actions the combat rounds have more give and take.
Gun Combat
The numbers needed to hit are the same as tasks with the skill system. The numbers given are for quick shots. Spending a action to carefully aim nets a +5 to the attack. Targeting a particular component of body part; truck wheel, pintle MG, head shot, nets a -5 to the attack.
Close 15+
Medium 20+
Long 25+
Extreme 30+
SMGs and Pistols, which I felt needed a bump, have a special range band of Point Blank (10+). This range band is 1/2 the Close Range or character's Agility, whichever is less.
Extra Damage
Since the player's can now look at the chart and quickly compute how well they hit, I put in a few extra bennies for high success. Every step above that needed to hit adds one D6 to the damage dice. This reflects shots that are well-placed or hit weak points in protective gear. Players get really excited when a single M16 shot cranks up from 3D6 to 5 or 6.
Fire Modes
As I said earlier, characters only get one action during their initiative step. For gun combat they can do one of the following, based on their weapon type.
Single Shot – You fire one hastily
aimed shot at a target.
Any weapon can take a single shot. This is the base attack.
Burst Fire – A hastily aimed burst of
automatic fire.
While automatic weapons can be fired in single shot mode, most characters will fire a burst instead. Characters expend a number of rounds equal to the bust size and make one attack roll. If successful the target is hit by one, or more, rounds. The damage for a burst is the base damage for the weapon plus 1D6 for each additional round. For instance, the M16A2 has a 3 round burst. It inflicts 5D6, 3D for the base damage plus 2D for the second and third rounds. An AKM inflicts an additional 4D for the 5 round burst. SAW's will chew you apart with a 10 round burst that inflicts +9D6.
Double Tap – You fire two quick rounds
at one target. Make one attack roll for
both.
This mode is for most pistols, semiautomatic rifles, and double-barreled shotguns. One attack roll is made and the damage is doubled.
Empty the Magazine (-5 to hit) – You wildly empty your weapon into one
target. Your attack is made at -5 and
you score one point of extra damage for every round past the first.
The "Empty the Magazine" attack is for that panicked moment when all you have is a pistol or lighter, small capacity semiautomatic rifle.
Suppression Fire (-5 to hit) – You fire
several bursts into a general area. Any
target taking in that area is attacked once at -5. Anyone attempting to move into, or act in, a
suppressed zone that is not in cover or would expose themselves to fire needs to make an Difficult – Initiative test or lose the action.
This mode didn't see much play at first, but my players are beginning to utilize it. The size of the zone suppressed is based on the 8-meter outdoor square. Ammo is expended at your maximum rate of fire; 5 bursts of whatever size or all the rounds in your magazine (for something like an RPK which would consume 50 rounds, but only has a 40 round mag). I fudge the required rounds, but my rule of thumb is that you have to have at least 3 bursts left to use this mode.
Damage is as if they were hit by one round, but the initiative test is what really hurts. Pinned opponents without a valid retreat route are stuck and can be flanked or fragged at less risk. The last few foes are more likely to surrender if they are suppressed and outnumbered.
Wild Fire - I haven't worked out the details for Wild Fire yet. I intend it to be automatic attacks by under trained or panicked personnel with a hefty minus and low damage.
Melee Combat
There are two types of targets in melee. Those actively fighting you and melee and those who are doing something else.
If your opponent is fighting you in melee the two characters make a melee combat test. If the attacker scores higher they handed the blow. If the defender scores higher they dodged or parried the strike. I do allow characters to use Unarmed Combat to defend against Armed attacks and vice verse.
If your opponent did anything in their previous action, even shot at you, or is unresisting than the attacker needs to succeed at an Average (15+) Melee Combat roll.
Extra damage is generated in the same manner as Gun Combat.
Weapon damage is generalized by category and should be obvious with a little thought.
Improvised Weapons, one handed - 1D6
Light Weapons, 1H - 1D6 + 1/2 Strength
Heavy Weapons, 1H - 1D6 + Strength
Improvised Weapons, two handed - 2D6
Light Weapons, 2H - 2D6 + 1/2 Strength
Heavy Weapons, 2H - 2D6 + Strength
Next up- Healing and misc stuffs
Saturday, July 7, 2012
I: House Rules
Since the discovery of this blog by the crew over at the juhlin forums (take a look for a vibrant T2K community) I've had several requests for how I run the game and any house rulings I use. This series of blog posts will discuss the rules I use, the reasons I use them, and some of the thought that went into the changes. Pleas feel free to discuss in the comments section! Feedback is appreciated.
Basics
I had three goals with the changes I made for my gaming group.
1. Reduce the use of division and crunch to speed play.
2. Keep as much of GDW's printed material as possible in play.
3. Have as many points of familiarity as possible for my players to games they've already played in order to reduce discomfort and increase familiarity.
First Steps
The first steps were recalibrating skills. Most of my player group was already familiar with D&D 3.5, so they were used to rolling a D20 and adding. Taking a cue from Twilight v2.2 I decided to use the SKILL + ATTRIBUTE as the basis, only with a roll over instead of a roll under. The basic chart for that is as follows;
10+ Easy (EZY)
15+ Average (AVE)
20+ Difficult (DIF)
25+ Formidable (FOR)
30+ Impossible (IMP)
The initial point of for DIF tests were based on my call that I wanted well trained individual of average ability to succeed half the time. For me, that is a person with an ATTRIBUTE & SKILL of 5, total bonus of 10, which set Difficult tasks at 20. The five point spacing for additional and lesser successes seemed a natural progression.
First Hits
Next came changing how damage worked. I wanted to drop individual hit locations and values for a single pool of points. Doing so reduces some of the character durability since they can't take a succession of small wounds spread out over their body, so the pool has to be fairly large. However, it can't be too large, or they'll never be threatened by small arms. I used the following bands and consequences at each wound level;
Scratch = 2x CON
No effect
Slight = 2 x (STR + CON)
-1 to initiative
Serious = 3 x (STR + CON)
-2 more to initiative
Need to make a DIF:CON test before any action
Damage past the end of the Serious track is a Critical wound. Characters with a critical wound cannot preform any actions, except crawl away (and scream as a free action!), and require a Medical skill test to stabilize or they will bleed out in time.
Armor
Ok, so the hot locations are gone. How do you deal with body armor?
My first thought was to just assume it hit armor all the time and apply a flat reduction to damage, but it didn't feel right. Instead, I use an armor save roll when a character is shot in order to get their armor. Based on their gear, they need the following on a D10;
Helmet 10
Flak Jacket 6 to 9
Kevlar Vest 4 to 9
Hits to the helmet inflict double damage after the they penetrate. I assume that random combat always hits the helmet. Only for a called shot to the head do I reach back into the rule book for an additional roll to see if the called shot hit the helmet or face/neck
Next up - Guns and Melee
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