dndstd

[dndstd]

I guess I’ll show you guys irl Pumpkin because I draw her so much. I adopted her from the animal shelter many moons ago…

[dndstd]

Scots vs. Cops

1920 June

We entered a police department to find a cultist. Easy job. We got 5 minutes to interrogate. I get a crying woman. Roxas gets a tall, thin man, who killed his own daughter. Kat and Happy get three Scottish mafia members. Perfect. Woman is rude and most possibly a cultist. Tall man reduced to tears for his sins. Scots are chill and cracking jokes. Police officer comes back. Crap, need more time. Kat goes preaching about her god. Perfect, we got at least 3 minutes. Luckily, we waste them doing almost nothing. Crap, how do we distract him now? "Ever heard of Jesus Christ?" I ask. "Nah, leave." I slam him into the cell. The Scots cell. They slam a brick into his head. He has a visit with Sandman. We pick the lock of the lady's cell. "Hey Johnny! Want some donuts?" calls a voice. Fuck, Johnny is knocked out. "Yeah, givin' these guys a good talk, I'll be out." Roxas calls out. "You sure?" The cop says believing him, slowly opening the door. "Don't come in! I'm pissing!" "In the cell hall?" The door opens. We're seen. Before he pulls his gun, I drag him in. Wait, who's behind him? Oh yeah, the entire police force. Happy instantly lets the Scots out, using the cops keys. "Aye, gimme the guns!" They run, take some guns, and start firing. "Aye pal, lemme in on the fun!" There was one more Scot across from them, and he was free to fight. "That's more like it laddy!" They were gunning down the cops rather well. Roxas pulled the fire alarm. Everyone scattered, leaving four, wet, investigators. I took a 45cal revolver off a cop and left. Kat left as well. Roxas and Happy searched around a bit, and left as well.

Overall, this went pretty well.

[dndstd]

Caring to a worried mother

Time : Early June, 1921

A mother, who’s daughter has been missing for about two weeks, let’s us into her house to talk about her missing child. The conversation leads us to her daughter’s room. We look around for a bit and the mother leaves us so we can “focus”.

If “focus” meant loot the place, we did excellent. We scored $5, some cheap rings, and the daughter’s family necklace. Through this, our hobo friend, at age 28, put on the daughter’s dress. Immediately, I had an idea.

“Ma’am! We’ve found your daughter!”

She runs in, to meet eyes with the short, dirty man masquerading in makeup and a dress. “Is this your idea of a joke?” The hobo reassures her. “This is necessary to the investigation of your daughter.”

“How in the hell is this important?!”

I hold her shoulder and add, “You gotta let him keep it, black and gold is tots his color, right?”

She was furious. “Leave my house before I call the police!”

We left, $5 richer.

[dndstd]

Helping the mafia, one banana at a time

Time : Early June, 1921

Our little hobo friend was smiling with glee after stealing a singular banana from a grocery store. He comes out to see me eyeing down a pawn shop. I hatched a plan seeing the banana in his pants.

Plan went like this :   I walk in first, look around a bit, and then the hobo comes in. Pressing the banana to the inside of his pocket, he says, “This is a stick up.” The shop keeper immediately wimpered, “Oh no, not again.”

He opened the register and the display cases. I walk over and loot the place, accumulating $12, a camera, an antique necklace, and a bayonet from the Great War. We split the cash and ran.

We were heroes that day.

[dndstd]

First Campaign - Off to War

First adventure, let's go!

Who is playing - Role - Character Name

Me - Medic - Scott Kat - Pilot - Jessie Jarod - Medic - Bartholomew Roxas - Veteran - Dolan (was never given a name, so I gave him one)

June XX, 2002

+-Sun is setting-+

We're getting shipped to Antarctica from Africa as US Soldiers in a new form of aerial transport of which we haven't seen before. We hear plunks on the walls of the aircraft, then bangs. We're getting shot at. The aircraft takes a dip and crashes along a beach, leaving few alive and plenty in the grave.

We awaken, barely aware of each other, and we look around as we come to grips with ourselves. I'm wounded in the knee, Jessie is injured, Bartholomew has slight mental damage, and the veteran got PTSD as a result of watching his long time partners die. I searched the corpses in the water for anything useful, and as I enter, the salt water pierces into my damaged knee, hurting me. I manage to find a knife, though it's rusted, it may be useful for cutting ropes. Jessie looked around the aircraft's pieces and has trouble identifying what went where. The veteran just sat, contemplating everything. We all had equipment on out persons. I had a medkit, Jessie had compass, Bartholomew had a rifle with four bullets, and our worried veteran shaking in fear held a second compass.

+-Start of nightfall-+

We group up and notice lights in the distance. The keen Dolan took a look and noticed they were soldiers, he advised we get a move on considering we were just gunned down. We agreed and headed west. We stumble across a rustic village. All the houses had lights on, except one. This house was larger than the rest as well. We hide among their crops, of which we find to be berries. Dolan inspects the darkened house, to find that the window is extra slick and shiny. Like, this is a nice window. The case enclosing the Mona Lisa? Nothing compared to this. Literal perfect glass craftsmanship here. Though, past the glass is darkness, and a dark figure standing idle.

+-Night-+

Dolan hears footsteps, then a gun shot. The ground next to him explodes with dirt. Someone is coming with a shotgun. With his PTSD and fear combined, he runs into the woods with fear. He meets up with Jessie as they run into the woods, now with the entire village chasing after them, guns blazing. Bartholomew and I take this moment to run in and check out the dark building. Using the rusted knife from earlier, I wiggle the door open. The knife was bent and near broken, but survived for another day. The room was dark, as we couldn't see anything. I contemplated using the rifle to fire pot shots, using the flashes as light, but we quickly realized we can get some lights from another house. We left and closed the door.

The door clicked.

It was locked.

Upset with this we head to the house and fetch a torch. We come back to the door. My knife was near broken and rusted, but it opened the door a last time before crumbling into metallic dust. I bid it farewell as we entered. We find a bizarre statue, all sorts of twists and turns around it. There were bodies around it's base, of which were our fellow soldiers. Along them were ceremony knives and metal ingots, so black they appeared to absorb our lights. I look over the solider, reach in my medkit, and put a singular band-aid on his nose.

We heard noises, we look out of that sweet, clear, crystal window and find the mad shooters were back. We quietly closed the door and cupped the light, as to stay hidden. I listen out to hear my own footsteps, startling me. We wait an hour before resuming search. I took an ingot and a knife, and we left.

+-Midnight-+

As the two medics make their way to the woods, they stumble across a familiar pilot and veteran solider. We all got together and made a campsite. The camp had a fire, leaf beds, and four soldiers to keep it safe. We all took turns keeping a look out as the others slept, and we passed the torch of watch every two hours. Dolan was first, alert, but not to awake. He soon passed the burden onto Bartholomew. He barely kept himself up and made me take his position. I was on red alert, and noticed a squirrel nearby on a tree. "Food" I thought with hunger, and threw my knife at the rodent. Looks like I missed, until the squirrel fell. It falls, my knife pierces it's stomach, it ricochets off the tree, and lands at my feet. I pick it up, look at our campfire, and hatched a plan.

I would make breakfast in bed for my teammates. I roast the squirrel over the fire so well, Gordon Ramsey comes up from the ground and takes a bite, complementing, "Finally, some good fucking food around here. No complaints."

+-Sun Rise-+

We each had a small bit of squirrel, raising our spirits and outlooks on our bleak situation. Finishing up our snack, Jessie and Dolan spot smoke in the distance. As the pilot looked upon it, she mentioned it's an oil fire, based on the dark black smoke. We headed in that direction, to have the veteran step on something. That something crunched under his boot. It was a skull. In fact, there were plenty of bodies buried around us, but most of what we found was just a hand or skull poking out of the ground. We dug around the bodies for anything useful, when Jessie finds an old rusted grenade. As she fiddled with it, we identified the bodies to be American and German soldiers from World War II. Jessie then tosses the grenade behind her with zero care. Nothing happens. I pick it up, inspect it, then carefully put it back down.

Jessie picks it up and declares "I'm gonna throw this down the field."

Dolan, Bartholomew, and I all stand a good distance away. She looks at us, and pulls the pin.

The pin of a grenade, mind you, from over 50 years ago, which as withstanded frost after summer after frost after summer, and constant rains.

She immediately blows into pieces. A fine red puddle is left where she stood. Realizing that the village from before is probably on their way over to kill us, I quickly carve "Jessie" into the closest tree to remember her by.

On our way to the smoke, we found a rock. Dolan, our war torn veteran riddled with PTSD, probably isn't doing so hot after watching his friend become a fine red mist, so he picked up a rock and instantly became friends with it. We came to calling it idiot, as Dolan found it as Jessie's new replacement.

Following the smoke we came to a beach, noticing the smoke was actually far off into the ocean. Probably some oil tanker. We found our wrecked vessel from earlier, now with some noticeable red streaks that lead off into a nearby forest. We followed them to find a cave. The cave had several limbs and torsos lining the walls and covering the floor. Though, amidst the fly covered meat, I found a M4A1 magazine with 4 bullets.

The campaign ended here, so feel free to come up with your own ending! I'd like to imagine we built a new plane out of whatever we had, and we fly away doing flips and stuff.