The year is 2112. Mankind has all but abandoned a desolate Earth in lieu of exploring space. Their homeworld laid waste and ravaged by a deadly virus, humanity makes their new home amongst the stars and planets that adorn the universe. Haunted reminders of a brutal past soon become prevalent and our heroes are forced to combat an ancient enemy. The dead rise from their graves and live once more! This time in space. AFMBE: Deadly Resurgence is a Hybridized Space Opera campaign in which players battle the undead in a futuristic science fiction/survival horror setting. Utilizing the All Flesh Must Be Eaten rules by UniSystem Games, Deadly Resurgence hopes to tell the tale of what it would be like if one were to encounter technologically advanced forms of undead in space.The game is run by our own Cyborg Psychotic, Eanwulf the Grey.
Early Morning, Just After Second Sunrise
Somewhere in the Badlands of Rigil 7
Slowly Approaching Old Man Krabitz' Tusker Farm
The wheels of Sheriff Steiner's land rover scrape to a halt in the pebble-laden driveway of Old Man Krabitz' main house. The three-story structure is in a serious state of disrepair and numerous windows can be seen in various states of openness; their weather-stained curtains fluttering about wildly in the morning sun. Suddenly, the front doors of the house burst open, revealing a cantankerous old fart brandishing a ginormous rifle. The old man appears to be loading his bazooka of a gun with high-explosive rounds and is far from happy at witnessing the Sheriff's rover pull up into his yard. "About damned time ya got her Sheriff!" the old man snaps bluntly, his trembling hands trying to finish loading his rifle.
Land Rover
Roughly the proper body design. Just tech it up a bit and tan it in color. The doors slide up like a Delorean! Your Rover has the MPF stats from the OOC thread on gear but lacks the machinegun armament. Just the armor!
Old Man Krabitz
The guy has a .50 cal rifle with all sorts of attachments on it and is currently loading high explosive rounds into the breach.
The two of you have been called out this morning to investigate what was initially reported as a simple case of poaching. The call was then later edited to be that of possible cattle rustling and then finally to that of an outright home invasion. Old Man Krabitz isn't the sharpest tool in the shed but sure does tote around one big ass rifle! It has all the trimmings too, variable ammunition capability, night vision and thermal imaging, self-guiding targeting features, the works!
The old man coming outside is Old Man Krabitz btw and it's been nearly two hours since the original call was placed. The old fart don't look none too pleased but oh well, you got here when ya could.
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
"Hey!" Frank Steiner yells out from the window of his land rover, "What the hell are you doing, Krabitz?" Frank bites down hard on his cigar and grumbles, practiced at speaking without taking the nearly ever-present cigar from his lips. He punches the gas to get up the driveway as quick as he can. "If he points that damn thing at us, shoot his dumb ass in the leg." The cyborg sighs, drawing into the smoke into his mouth and out his nose.
Old Man Krabitz continues to load his rifle as Sheriff Steiner guns the engine to his rover. The old man then reels backwards as the Sheriff scrapes his vehicle to a halt just inches away in front of him. "Gawd dangit Sheriff!" the old man barks loudly. "Ya done went and made me drop my damned ammo!" Now fiddling about the dirt and dust for several of his remaining shots, the old man's disposition only sours. "I told your damned people hours ago that I had poachers on my land!" Krabitz proclaims thoroughly irritated. "And yer just now getting here!? What the hell Sheriff!?"
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
"Do I live next door?" Frank says, pushing up the door and ducking under it and out of the car. "Hire some Regulators if you want someone quick." The sheriff isn't exactly apologizing. The cyborg rests his hand on the hilt of his pistol in the holster, "So, where the poaching?"
"Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies."
"T'aint poachers!" snaps the Old Man Krabitz. "Don't yer people tell you nuthin!? T'is something worse! Sand Sprites..." His hands still trembling, the old man hurries up and finishes loading the last of his ammunition into the giant rifle and spits angrily at the ground near Sheriff Steiner's feet. "A whole lot of em too! Litter most likely."
Wish EM was online lol. Looks like the old man is wanting you to follow him aroundside the back of the house. Most likely to where one of his tusker pens is located.
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
"Are you shitting me?" Frank looks at the old coot and sighs, "You called me out here for Sand Sprites? Do I look like a damn exterminator?" He pulls his cigar away from his mouth and blows the smoke in the old man's face, "I got better things to do."
"Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies."
"They done got three of my herd!" yaps Old Man Krabitz in between hacking coughs from the Sheriff's cigar smoke. "That's nearly two-thousand Yen right there!" His face totally flustered and blood pressure most likely nearing critical mass, the old man promptly begins to stomp off around the corner of his house, adding the following snobbishly. "Who knows what havoc they'll reek if they get the rest of the herd and mutate! Damned things grow overnight once properly fed!" Having only taken a few steps away from Sheriff Steiner, Old Man Krabitz then pauses briefly. "Well Sheriff!?" he quips in inquiry. "Are you gonna do yer duty or not!?"
"You'd say it was my duty to wipe yer ass," Steiner says, "Alright." The sheriff waves for his robot deputy to follow and gives a little wave to Krabitz, "Lead on, Mister Krabitz." Frank jerks his peacemaker from the holster, ready to put a hole in the brain of the creatures and get out of here.
"Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies."
Deputy Sparx follows the sheriff's lead as per his programming. Chambering a round in his shotgun with an audible *Ka-chook* he slowly begins moving up to flank Frank as they go around the house. His various servos and circuits whirring and grinding with each heavy metallic footfall. The faceless automaton may be programmed to assist the sheriff in any way but that doesn't mean he has to be all sunshine and happiness about it. A defective emotion circuit sees to that. "Sheriff, you took the oath to protect the populace. If you wish to whine about your job please wait until we are out of said populaces earshot, it sends the wrong message. It seems to me that we have a job to do. Now how about we do it before this blasted sand freezes my joints."
His name may be sparx, but I think deputy Snarx would be more appropriate.
Here, you hold this jar of acid and the rattlesnake. I've got to hop on the unicycle and get this chainsaw revved up.
"Uh huh," is the first of the reply the sheriff gives his robot deputy. "I knew I forgot to do something today," Frank acts as though he's speaking to himself. "Melt. Down. Sparx." He smiles, "That's right. You should see these new police bots that they're making. Shew wee, they make you look as old as Old Krabitz here." He twirls his peacemaker in his hand, laughing at his own jest as he follows the codger around the house.
"Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies."
