As Sinead gives the Dimensional Shambler its orders…it smiles a toothy hellish grin, and disappears.
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| 'Uhhh...you wanna me to do whaaa?' |
Meanwhile, the aft section of the deck has been given over to the Russian Count, and his addiction to playing Shuffle-Ball with his retinue…who of course lose gracefully while the count wins every game.
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| Definitely not a pentagram |
As the characters complain vociferously about not being able to sunbathe in the stern section, they stir up complaints in the pub with influential British and American travellers, after being offered free drinks. As they leave…the passengers have set up a committee, which will vote to ascertain members of a sub-committee – each striving to gain a greater national advantage, with a view to electing a head of sub-sub-committee, who will then go to complain to the Captain. Makes perfect sense.
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| 'Clearly the decisions of the third sect of the 4th sub-committee (pending), will be final...' |
As the shuffleboard competition of one heats up…the characters notice (1) that the yacht is getting ever closer – despite their constant checking that there is no way for the yacht crew to board the liner and (2)…more importantly, the Count’s guards are now being distracted by the yacht…missing the real problem that is about to emerge as…
...'The Priests' – who were never priests – and are in fact Trostky'ites' (or something) rush the aft deck, shooting stewards and bodyguards alike in an attempt to reach their goal of ‘death to the oppressors and the Romanovs!!!’ as the main Priest pulls the pin from a badly maintained grenade.
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| Trotsky's assassins all along...makes perfect sense |
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| 'YEET!' |
At this point he had to make a luck roll – five times POW…70%. 'Making it' means the grenade does not go off just yet, and he gets a chance to do something.
Failing means he is dead-dead-dead and the other characters probably take some shrapnel damage…
He rolls ‘01’. ( should add that the last time I ran this campaign, EXACTLY the same thing happened with a roll of 01 – this, bearing in mind the odds being ‘1:100 AND 1:100’, at 10,000 to 1, clearly mean we are existing inside a simulation)…
He grabs the live grenade and ‘yeets’ it into the water…handily, almost absently, and wholly accidentally (he did roll a 01!!!) directing it straight onto the yacht that has been shadowing them – and, as it proves, the escape route for the assassins. Boom! (01s are always plot yanking).
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| ...such a nice boat too... |
He crawls away as the other two assassins shoot and miss him (his luck not seeming to run out) – then dodges behind cover to avoid the second shots…just in time as one of the count’s bodyguards opens up with a Tommy gun from the stern, not really caring who he hits…and bullets fly up the deck in ‘gangster’ fashion – taking out the would be assassins . The count is immediately moved to his cabin amidst a flurry of 1920s bodyguard activity…with any wounded bodyguards, and McDade is the hero of the hour.
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| 'Is that a Tommy Gun in my pocket? Why...yes it is!...' |
As the crew try to clear up just what the hell just happened, the party do not admit to what part they played…though when the Count’s bodyguards come looking for their boss’s saviour– McDade agrees to come with them. The Russian count splashes cash to make everything 'ok, yes?'
Count Mikhael Andreovich Kurosov introduces himself, gives McDade a bear hug, and cracks open the ‘Wodka’ telling him that he is in his eternal debt. McDade sends for the Prof, who being an actual Doctor, pronounces one bodyguard dead, and manages to save the other…both characters notice that the Count, amongst his bedtime reading, has a particularly rare book. Asking permission to see it, they realise its import – a 17th century Latin piece with potentially dangerous information (so far, books like this do not last long if the Prof gets a hold of them...in fact, neither do NPCs for that matter)…as the Count explains that it is part of the reason he is able to travel, a man known as 'Septimus Crane', of Arkham, has offered him $30,000 dollars for it…he carefully puts it back in place.
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| 'You seem trustworthy...' |
As they all retire to their respective staterooms, Sinead hears the distant chanting of the islanders in the bowels of the engineering deck once more, though led by a voice she recognises – the Purser. She smiles quietly to herself, reasoning that the Dimensional Shambler might be a little more irate when it appears this time…
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| 'If only I could remember what I asked it to do...' |
…What could go wrong?...











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