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/tg/ - Traditional Games


File: satw.jpg (109 KB, 736x546)
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Previous thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/45582928/

A short intro flashes by, playing a friendly-network approved theme as a montage of the different characters run past, each with a clip from the first episode attached and a generic sounding voice over.

"Damen Peiner is 'Gerard 'Jerry' Pisto', the obsessive drummer! "

"Celina Louden is the beautiful 'Alexa “Voodoo” Beaulieu', guitarist extraordinaire!"

"Donaldo Draper is the irascible 'Peter “Dickass” Delisle'!"

"And Jyotish Javins is Satan's physical fleshpuppet, 'Jay "Baller" Bhala'!"

"Together as the Dickwranglers, they fight the forces of Dracula with the power of music!"

Applause.

"And this week's special guest star is none other than... Jules Bussone as Trucker!"

[1/2]
>>
>>45946430
On the dusty outskirts of a desert city, a tender exchange. He hangs off the side of his trucker cab, one hand already inside, long brown hair billowing in the wind. She stands before him in a powder blue dress that matches her eyes. He's not sure how much gold is left in Nevada but he'd be damned if there isn't a little glitter in the air that shines around her face like the surface of a lake.

“How can I ever repay you?”

He smiles, slides a massive knuckle down the contour of her jaw without speaking. A tear wells in her eye. All he's done for this girl is take her from her home to a modern day Sodom where she'll spend the next twenty years a prostitute of the lowest sort before turning her back on that life for a new one...

“Just follow your heart,” he tells her. There's no explicit guilt as he climbs the rest of the way into the cab and turns the key in the ignition. Nobody said making nuns was easy or pretty but there's more in common with the sausage grinding process than he'd like to admit.

He's half a mile away when his radio crackles to life.

“Fish, this is Loaves. Do you read me, over?”

“I read you loud and clear, Loaves. What's up?”

“Word is there's an order for you to pickup at a depot down on 66, dispatch says they couldn't get a hold of you any other way.”

“Not a problem, Loaves, thanks for relaying that.”

Another pick-up? So soon?

The long-haired trucker shifts uncomfortably on his beads. He'll have to turn around...

A little while later and he's cruising past a diner not far from where he dropped the girl off earlier. It gives him an uneasy feeling.

>Keep going, dispatch expects you to be on time.
>Stop off, see what that feeling is about.
>Write-In
>>
>>45946489
>Keep going, dispatch expects you to be on time.
We're on a mission from God!
>>
>>45946489
>Keep going, dispatch expects you to be on time.
>>
>>45946556
>>45946670

There's no time for stopping and you're not keen on seeing that girl again any time soon. A trucker can forgive a lot of things but she yapped insufferably for almost the entire journey here and he's about done with hearing autobiography for a while. Besides, the road calls.

Trucker takes a good size swig of purple fluid from a water bottle with the label ripped off. He'll be over the line and into California before long assuming everything goes smoothly. He has no reason to assume that it won't, even as the night approaches.

Hours pass and the sun seems to set a little too fast for this time of year. Clouds push into the sky and shadow the desert. Trucker turns on the FM for a weather report but gets only static on all the channels.
It starts to rain. Trucker frowns; he can't remember the last time it rained out here. He keeps going, wipers on full blast as the downpour intensifies and visibility diminishes. Another drink of the purple and the engine stops unexpectedly, forcing him to pull to the side of the road. A load bang comes from the back of the trailer and Trucker reaches under his seat for:

>A wrench
>A flashlight
>A revolver
>An umbrella
>The back-up whiskey

Then he:

>fortifies himself in the cab
>goes to take a look at the engine
>goes to check on the trailer
>drinks heavily
>write-in
>>
>>45946877
>A flashlight
>goes to take a look at the engine
I hope you mean an actual flashlight, not that pussy shit.
>>
File: MagLiteFlashlight.jpg (39 KB, 768x522)
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>>45946933

Trucker pulls a scratched up Maglite from under his seat and clicks it on. The beam cuts a clear path of light through the gloom outside but offers little in the matter of peripheral vision.

It does give him a very clear look at whats gone wrong under the hood. Nothing that can't be fixed with a little bit of tinkering, he'll just have to get some tools from back in the cab and he'll be moving again in no time.

The sheets of rain obscure the noise of whatever approaches along the flank of the truck.

>roll 1d100 for reaction and response, higher is better
>>
>>45946877
>A flashlight
>goes to take a look at the engine
Whatever is in the trailer is there for a reason.
>>
Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>45947108
>>
Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>45947108
Let's see if my luck holds.

>>45947154
Ha.
>>
>>45947108
>>45947154
>>45947170

Forgot to mention, I'll take best of five, though these are gonna be hard to beat so I'm going to start writing now and just adjust if anyone rolls higher.
>>
>>45947154
>>45947170
>>45947197

>96

Trucker reacts on instinct, whirling with the ass-end of a maglite loaded with D batteries as soon as the dark shape enters his vision but holding it still just before contact.

A fat man in a shirt and tie falls backwards wetly onto the ground, arm outstretched to protect himself. Trucker lowers the Maglite.

"Pops sent you? Listen, I already got the message about the pick-up-"

"Pick-up? Please Lord, I only came to let you know that Lucifer has returned to Earth."

"What?"

Trucker wipes his hands on his shirt. He hasn't heard from Lucifer in ages, at least not in this aspect. The Father still wrecks him on Tuesday's though...

"He's come to combat the vampire menace. I thought you might like to know."

"Huh. We'll that's very interesting but it's none of my business. I don't get involved in that kind of thing anymore."

"Very good, I'll make sure to let the Father know of that sentiment."

Trucker cringes and scratches his face. He doesn't have a beard anymore but sometimes he misses tugging on it at times like this.

"A'ight, get going. I've got to get this truck back on the road."

"I'd advise you hurry, sir. This is bat country."

"What did you say?"

But the fat man is already gone. Only the rain remains.

>Roll 1d100 for fixing the engine, best of five or what we get. You get bonuses for good lighting and assessment of the problem.
>>
Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>45947499
Oh boy.
>>
Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>45947499
>This is bat country.
Oh you.
>>
>>45947548
>>45947590
>77

Trucker rolls up his sleeves. They're damp, along with every other part of him that's been drenched by the rain. Water rolls off the popped hood as he attempts to reach in and fix the engine, maglite tucked awkwardly between his neck and shoulder. At one point he drops it.

“Hockey Sugar!”

He retrieves it, but not before accidentally burning himself on a still hot piece of machinery.

“Double hockey sugar!”

Eventually everything gets back on track and Trucker deems it proper to shut off the maglite and get back in the cab. But even amid the gloom, he can see something, like a black cumulus tide sweeping its way over the horizon from the direction of Vegas. He sprints to the cab and prepares to drive for the California state line.

>Roll 1d100-13 best of five (not that we're gonna get 5)
>>
Rolled 33 + 13 (1d100 + 13)

>>45947911
Slow day today, huh?
>>
>>45948075
Fucked that up. I thought I put a minus.
>>
>>45948075

You might say that. It's -13 by the way so that's a 20.
>>
>>45948075

Fudge it, we'll resume this tomorrow around noon EST picking up with a chase based on your roll...
>>
Rolled 5 - 13 (1d100 - 13)

>>45947911
>>
Rolled 49 - 13 (1d100 - 13)

>>45947911
>>
Rolled 50 - 13 (1d100 - 13)

>>45947911
>>
Just wanted to pop in and say I like your style. It's too bad I prefer to just read quests in the archive after they run.



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