Chapter 9: Safe at last?
Remember how combat looks in TV shows and cartoons? They flashy lights of the hero's super powers colliding with their foe, the over-long special moves?
Real combat is nothing like that. Real combat is brutal, fast, and above all, chaotic. So it goes with this. Pouncing on Punchy from behind, Jerkhief attempts to dig his eyes out with his bare hands. Out of either blind panic or a sense of loyalty to the people who are seemingly the only sane people left in this mad, mad city, the rest of the group follows suit. Sammy attempted to pin Punchy's arms behind his back, Tavern swung wildly and inexpertly with his giant straw, Stan took one giant swing with his plastic gitar, and Pigeon hurled a rock from his makeshift sling with all his might.
Punchy's reaction was not as swift as it would have been if he were sober, but it was swift all the same. He had one chance to save himself from the insane mob descending on him wielding children's toys and straws, and he took it. His spiked fist flew through the air at the fat man who had declared the assault, fast enough to knock even the sturdiest building to rubble.
He hit nothing. His overconsumption of alcohol had blurred his vision, and his mach-speed punch was a good foot to the right of where it would have needed to be to save his life.
Within 30 seconds, Punchy was a quivering, beaten mess on the ground, his assailants pounding at his body with merciless fervor, not stopping until they were sure he wouldn't move any more and the red mist that had settled upon them had dissipated. Punchy's body flickers slowly out of existence, like a television losing signal, and is replaced with a piece of cheap-looking paper with a crudely drawn crayon version of Punchy.
What have you done?
Result: TIE (Players win ties), Madness dominates (All participants lose 1 Madness response - Fight used in this case. Stan is one bad decision away from Snapping for the first time.)
Chapter 10: Definitely not
Nobody speaks on the way to the motel. There doesn't seem to be anything to be said. This day seems to have spiralled further and further out of control the longer it's gone on, and the night seems almost a relief.
Renting the only room available for the night, and flopping onto the sofa and bed provided to rest your weary feet, Sammy makes the mistake of turning on the TV. It's showing a news broadcast on all channels - a Mayoral General Address.
"...WILL NOT REST until these EVIL PERPETRATORS have been BROUGHT to JUSTICE!" yells Mayor Chandler, removing his glasses for dramatic effect before putting them back on again to read his prepared speech. "Now, loyal citizens, do not worry. I, the Captain of this Ship, am doing everything in my power to undo this mistake and revive our friend from his Troll-influenced death. But in the meantime! Be on the lookout! This is Mayor Chandler, signing off. Peace."
During his rant, the mayor waves a piece of paper similar to the one you saw earlier, with a crudely-drawn Punchy adorning it.
Outside, you hear a dog bark. Then, you hear thousands of dogs, barking in unison, getting ever closer. You hear thudding footsteps on the landing outside your room, on the veranda where the doors to the other rooms are. Finally, you hear a deep, womanly voice from just outside your door, as the dog barks grow ever louder.
"I know you're here somewhere, you infidels. You will not mess with my master or my family again." You hear the sound of scratching on your door, and the doors to the other rooms in the tacky run-down motel you're staying in. You're in a small room with barely enough space for all 6 of you to move around comfortably. There's one window that looks out onto the twinkling lights of CWCville, and out of it, you can see that the world has taken on a sickly green hue.
What do you do?
