01 – Captured by Slavers!

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Well, here it is – the first game post for the new Scorched Earth RPG. Players – post your comments (and finish your character, if required), and let the dice fall where they may!

Slaver

Born into this hostile world, you each have struggled relentlessly to survive despite the best efforts of many men and mutants. Each of you has a long story to tell of a childhood amongst the wastes – stories of siblings who were killed during the hunt, friends who were lost to raiders, or neighbours caught by the disease gods as they sifted the sands to separate the weak from the strong. You have lived, however, and learned. Facing adversity, you have grown wiser and remained strong.

Until now.

You have been captured by slavers. Perhaps you were taken in a raid against your community, caught alone in the wastes, or grabbed in the street by unknown assailants. Knocked unconscious and your equipment taken, you now awake shackled and bound in a ruined old building that has been converted into a slave stockade.

The stockade is simply an old ruined building whose walls still stand. Formerly two-story, the second floor fell in, leaving it large and open inside. Here dozens of slaves are kept, either shackled or just thrown into mangy corners among the rat-infested rubble. A single heavy metal door leads out, closed shut (and presumably locked). Occasionally, guards peer in through the windows (blocked with bars) to taunt and check on their quarry.

Slaves are kept in miserable condition, day and night, but have begun to form sympathy amongst themselves despite their wide and varied backgrounds and state of mutation. All would willingly fight if given the chance. Unfortunately, only a handful are capable of much assistance (namely, the PCs):

  • Kronic: Derek’s character, a near-human enforcer and deadly clawed brawler.
  • Jumrak: Ian’s character, a near-human outlander/enforcer from the mountain clans.
  • Thrakazog: Simon’s character. Mighty Thrakazog, a freakish mutant enforcer.
  • Cobb: Eric’s character, a near-human scavenger with vampire-like mutations.
  • Cormac: David’s character, a mutant savant with psionic powers.
  • Vash: Bruce’s character, a stock human savant and tech shaman.

More to come…

You will remain here in the slaver stockade until there are enough PCs for us to kick-off the adventure. Feel free to post comments, ask questions, chat, etc. in the meantime…

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~ by K-Slacker on 22-Apr-07.

5 Responses to “01 – Captured by Slavers!”

  1. We’re up to six PCs now (though I’m still waiting on Simon for Thrakazog’s stats – nudge, nudge). If there’s any changes you want to make now that you see the entire party, just let me know.

    I think six is a good number; I’m turning down additional players for now. I’ve also deleted the out-of-character comments in this post to clean it up for gameplay.

    So… What (if anything) are you going to do about your current incarceration?

  2. Thrakazog’s looming bulk glows faintly from where it is hunkered in one shadowed corner of the stockade. His arms hang listlessly at his side, the manacles from his raw, sore wrists trailing black, rusted lengths of chain which meander back and up to a common shackle protruding from a stable section of wall above his head. His tail is wrapped tightly about his own waist — a habit from childhood whenever he sits down.

    He’s had a long time to survey and take in the odour of his unwilling companions. Most, he decided, are beneath his contempt. It took him very little time to analyze the redolent stench of fear emanating from the mob. Some few, though, seem more intent on sizing up their surroundings, much as Thrakazog has been doing. He hates being chained to the wall, but at nearly 8 feet standing straight (never mind the soft, yellow glow around his body), he’s always stood out as a perceived threat, and treated accordingly.

    His few loud, showy railings against his steel bonds were put on mostly for the sake of his captors. He looks like a big, dumb brute — sometimes it’s best to play the part, but not so much that he damages himself in the display.

    Through the stink of the rest of the slaves it becomes Thrakazog’s intent to slowly draw the attention of those few fellows who seem similarly inclined to do more than just follow a lead. If there are those willing to be led, then fine. But then leaders must also be present, lest potential go unrealized and the fetters binding this motley crew together go unbroken.

    Thrakazog has been chained before and he hates it just as much now as he did then. More.

    So he stands up, stretches his arms as high as his chains will allow, and whips his tail about casually as he surveys the attention it brings. There’s a pasty-skinned fellow with red eyes who looks like he might be more useful than the rest. Same with a nearby pipsqueak who wouldn’t even come up to Thrakazog’s own elbow, probably. He’s got claws though; a mean-looking little bastard. And they stink differently than the rest. There are a couple others here too look like they might be good for making plans. And the whole brood has nothing but time and intent to come up with something…

  3. Cobb sits against a chunk of rubble, moving occasionally to stay in the shade of the rubble pile until the sun rises high enough to make the effort pointless, sapping his strength.

    He looks over as the large mutant rises and tests his bonds and whips his tail around. Casually, Cobb looks around at the others penned up in the makeshift prison, noting their reactions to the large and intimidating mutant. Personally, Cobb didn’t want to end up on the wrong end of that tail, but he was more interested in any reaction from the guards, watching them intently to see if they gave away any reaction.

    A few of the others were listless, as he himself was, not yet resigned to their fate. Others cried themselves to sleep at night, which only served to piss him off since he needed that time to rest and gather his strength for the inevitable daylight to come. Yeah, that big one looked like he wanted out of here too. So did a couple of the others.

    As nonchalantly as a chained slave can, Cobb scoots slowly closer to the big brute, as much out of caution and for his own safety as to be within speaking distance. Speaking in Unislang he says, “Hello. Name’s Cobb.”

  4. Vash had not slept for days.

    He had meditated to conserve his energy and strength, and he had only allowed his eyes to crack open at the sound of a passing guard.

    The time had come to gain his freedom.

    He knew that he was in a stockade of some sort – plaster walls, steel manacles, wooden floor, rats, ‘roaches, feces, mutants.

    All the things he didn’t like rolled into one single package.

    Many of his prisoner-companions were too weak to move, thier garments stained brown from dysentery-laced water and thier faces sunked and hallow from starvation. Nearly all of them were dead, or close to it. Flies landed in the eyes and mouths of the weak ones, and those given over to moaning soon fell silent.

    Oppression hung in the air like the pregnant clouds of a thunderstorm.

    Only a few mutants – directly across from him – seemed lucid enough to contemplate thier surroundings, and escaping them. They were large, feral, and seemingly untrustworthy. But, better they be brutal and crude allies to him than disease filled corpses – they’d smell the same anyway.

    Vash glanced back at the pale light streaming through the barred windows – it was just barely sunrise, and the guards should shift rotations soon.

    He needed to act fast. Vash just hoped that the mutants would be smart enough to play along….

  5. Well, I know not everyone’s chimed in yet – but this was more of a ‘placeholder’ to wait until we got enough players. Let’s close discussion on this post and move onto the next!

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