25 – Lord Sogor
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(Okay; you’re in the arena itself now, near Map Areas #7 and #8. Jumrak and Kronic are in melee with a mongoliant armed with a greatclub. The other party members have stayed closer to the arena wall. There are eight other mongoliants scattered around the arena; several are guarding a group of about a dozen slaves in the middle of the arena, some are guarding the exits, and one is badly wounded and running away from your group. The stands are filled with ‘civilian’ mongos, chanting and cheering at the bloodshed.)
(Jumrak acts on Initiative count 15; all the other PCs are at 5. The greatclub mongoliant will act on Initiative 11. And the other mongos will act on 2 – 1 = 1.)
Outnumbered and outgunned, you make a desperate attempt to impress the mongoliant horde with your bravado.
Jumrak musters every ounce of strength to take out the remaining Mongoliant who clubbed Kronic. He hates to give the spectators blood for their “Blood God”, but knows that their blasphemous attempt at satisfying false idols will be disrupted by the party’s valiant display. Jumrak has heard stories of the Ancients and their ritual sacrifice – and he sees now that this place is a temple of evil. This is a chance to shine a ray of righteous light on this dark place…
(Attack roll is 10 + 5 = 15. Hit for 12 + 4 = 16 damage! Pretty sweet; he gets 25 XP for that lucky strike.)
“FOR STALA!” shouts Jumrak as he swings his fire axe in a fearsome arc. The deadly blade catches the grinning mongoliant across the belly and a gout of blood stains the arena floor. “BLOOD!” chants the crowd as the mongoliant staggers backwards.
Unbelievably, your disemboweled foe refuses to die at this point.
However, the club-wielding mongo might be smarter than you figured. Still clutching at his wounded midriff, he holds his greatclub in the other hand and backs away from you warily (held action to strike any opponent within melee range). “BOO! BOO!” shouts the crowd.
In response, Kronic readies his weapon and steps back to join his companions (holding an action to shoot any mongo that thinks it should act against the PCs).
“Boo! Hiss!” responds the crowd.
Thrak’s Plan:
Starting to back into the concession area (Map Area #7) to provide some means of defense, Thrak begins to see an element of hopelessness in their current situation. He clenches his jaw in frustration and just barely stops himself from firing in anger at the mongo who seemed to shrug off the last shot he took. Ammunition has to be rationed as preciously as food!
Realising that holing themselves up in an effort to fight all the mongos that are in the dome would be little more than a delaying action to their assured demise, Thrak starts to apply more thought to the current situation than the rage he’d been feeling. Cormac is a step away from the walking dead, and Kronic – ferocious as he is – is little better after that hit from the mongo club. It can’t be more than a matter of a little time before a concerted effort is brought to bear against this small party. If there’s that sort of artillery up above the dome, there’s probably something similar in here, for sport.
Perhaps, though, the mongoliants have some degree of honour that recognises bravery in battle and Thrak hopes that it can be used to advantage in the current situation. The mutant slaves have been armed for the mongoliants’ sport, after all. What are the odds that the bravest of the victors are rewarded? Then again, he thinks to himself, perhaps those are the ones who suffer a terrible fate at the hands of the mongoliants themselves. No time to reason it all out now!
Keeping a wary eye on the nearest mongoliants, Thrak shares the beginning of an idea with the group.
(Thrak – I’m going to assume you meant Cormac instead of Cobb. Otherwise you’re just screwed…)
(Oh; and 50 XP for the plan. Nice writeup.)
“Cormac!” Thrak says. “With the mutant games these guys have going on, they must have some degree of respect for skill and honour in combat. Something we’ve demonstrated a whole helluva lot of just now! But seeing how much firepower is out there, and how much we have left to us in here, I think our options are to die honourably, or try to figure something else that’ll keep us alive a while longer. I’m all for the ‘living’ option. Can you shout out to these guys something about how our bravery and skill at arms has earned us an audience with this ‘Lord Sogor’ fellow of theirs? If we can talk to him, at least we won’t knock off, you know, right away. Are you strong enough to do that?”
Hoping Cormac can contact somebody with at least a little brain power, Thrak keeps his improvised shield raised and the pistol aimed, in case things continue to go south for the group. With his prehensile tail, Thrak grabs the rifle that the first guard dropped. It’ll be that much harder – and costlier – for the mongos to bring down the motley group of (mostly) mutants…
Though badly wounded, Cormac nods at Thrak and stands straight and proud. Striding confidently and purposefully forward (though out of reach of the greatclub mongo), he exudes a preternatural sense of purpose. Raising his voice loud and clear, he makes his words in Gutterspeak sound almost beautiful…
(This will be a nasty Charisma check for Cormac; DC 25 to improve their attitude from ‘Hostile’ to ‘Unfriendly’, DC 30 to make them ‘Indifferent’. Given the importance of this check, I assume he’ll use his Useful Trivia savant ability to gain a +4 on the check, and will spend a Luck Point if necessary to reroll. The roll is 5 + 9 + 4 = 18. Cormac burns a Luck Point to try again; roll is 14 + 9 + 4 = 27.)
Appealing to the mongoliant sense of honour and glory, Cormac dedicates your battle to the wise rule of Lord Sogor. Appearing ‘tonight for the first time’, Cormac announces that your group are ‘guest stars’ that have travelled far for a ‘very special evening’ that you hope will be ‘the first of many’. “Blood for the Blood God! Glory to Lord Sogor!”
The crowd appears confused. Their chanting ends for a moment, until they hear Cormac’s final salute. “Blood! BLOOD! BLOOD!” they begin again, stamping their feet in unison. The guards are more wary, and raise their weapons in preparation for battle. They’re all waiting for someone to make the first move…
…But they’re not attacking. Looks like Cormac’s little speech accomplished something! (That deserves 50 XP for Cormac.)
As Cormac steps back to rejoin the party, Cobb whispers to him: “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of trying to free those slaves to provide a distraction for our escape.”
Vash moves forward to make sure the polearm is given to Thrak before returning to the walking wounded. “If this place worships fighting, maybe we just proved worthy to be allowed to leave.” He considers out loud. “Still, I can set up shop in the stand over there. Maybe we can make some new friends if I can help with their wounded as well?” He looks to the group before shrugging. “It’s just a thought. Again, I’ll be over here.”
(Vash shuffles back into the concession stand, moving out of the line-of-sight of the mongoliant warriors in the arena.)
Lord Sogor:
Suddenly, there is movement from the citadel (Map Area #9). The two huge wooden gates to the entrance to the “castle” slam open. Out strides a particularly massive specimen of the mongoliant strain. Wearing a suit of half-plate armour, the creature wields a great-axe in one hand. From his belt hangs a blaster pistol and some sort of high-tech Ancient beltpack.
“Lord Sogor!” you hear whispered amongst the stands…
“SILENCE!” shouts the bestial giant. He peers out at the arena, inspecting the injured mongoliant guards as well as your little party. Sneering at the fleeing mongo, he pulls the blaster from his belt and fires! (Attack roll is 18 + 8 = 26. Hit for 11 damage.) A bolt of searing plasma engulfs the cowardly mongoliant, who screams and writhes in flames for a moment before falling to the ground as a charred corpse. A terrified hush falls upon the crowd. Sogor smiles.
Then Lord Sogor turns to face you, pointing the pistol in your direction. His cunning gaze seems to quickly assess your situation. “What is the meaning of this, manlings?” he says. “You are too early for our festivities; I am curious – why so impatient for your deaths?” He grins with malice and awaits your response.
The stadium is eerily silent.
What are your actions?
Scorched Earth RPG 
(With the car door shield in one hand, pistol in the other, and polearm plus rifle in his tail, Thrak is over-encumbered right now. If he wants to move freely, he’ll have to get rid of something)
Well… someone that can talk should definitely talk now…
We should stick to the plan. Offer our assistance for healing, we may have to barter ourselves as entertainment even to get out of this one… given time to heal of course.
I still want to get revenge on the slavers and perhaps we can arrange a business deal with Sogor to the effect we take out the slavers and arrange to bring him back prisoners…
Kronic will ease up on his held action but will keep the rifle in hand and ready (safety off). I’ll even make a show of standing at attention/guard position if that will help once our talkers start to chat.
Thrak drops the car door in favour of brandishing the pistol and rifle with both hands and keeping a grip on the polearm with his tail. He figures he looks a little less defensive and more heroic with the rifle instead of cowering behind a rusty hunk of steel.
He’ll still shoot anything that comes close enough and appears threatening, but he holds any shot for the moment and does his best to size up all the opposition, hoping to take advantage of Exploit Weakness if the opportunity presents itself.
Thrak mumbles strongly to both Vash and Cormac that they better get smooth talkin’ pretty quick, ’cause this big fellow apparently means business what with killing one of his own because he chose to run rather than stay and fight. Again, he encourages talk of the group’s heroic defence and our worth as contributors to the festivities. Something at least to placate him into further conversation to see if we can talk our way out of this mess…
Cobb is going to remain silent since his words would probably provoke them more than help the party.
Throwing his restricted gaze to the heavens, Thrakazog wishes blessings upon the new boy-child delivered in health unto the Rat Bastard GM, in hopes that he in his turn will look favourably upon these pitiful mortals sitting precariously under the heel of his palm. Gods have mercy. (But Thrak cocks his pistol too… can’t be too careful. The gods help those who help themselves, right?)
Impatient for our deaths? I don’t think so! I wonder how we can get through that half-plate armour of his – I don’t think he’d be spewing blasphemous filth if he didn’t have the armour and his gods-damned blaster. This place would erupt if we could take out Lord Sogor. Unfortunately, I’m not currently in any position to do much about it. I keep my mouth shut for the moment…
Cormac remembers something that might come in handy right about now – Cobb has a grenade that he found on one of the mongoliant’s bodies! He needs to remind Cobb without provoking Lord Sogor or the guards. Since Cobb is close after his comment about rousing the slaves, he tries to disguise his suggestion by pretending that he’s trying to keep them from attacking – he carefully puts his arms in the air as to suggest that the party holds back in respect for Lord Sogor, and turns to Cobb as if he needs to be held back the most and whispers, as if a parent would to a misbehaving child, “put the grenade in Sogor’s mouth if you get the chance.” Cormac has seen Cobb’s accuracy in action and hopes that he can perform under pressure. He worries briefly about the time delay on the grenade but refocuses. Cormac steps forward again, short of his foes, but hopefully enough to give Cobb room and simulaneously conceal his movement.
Speakly slowly, clearly and in deference, “Oh, most magnificent Lord Sogor, truly an honour to be graced an audience with you!” Cormac kneels, pauses and returns to his feet, hoping no one takes advantage of his exposed neck. “We are blessed to have been given the opportunity to provide our services as the opening act, and hope that we will have the chance to entertain you at future events.” Now for the risky part. “How would your eminence like us to finish our performance?”