Hugo Fowl

I had some initial trouble thinking of an 80s match we hadn't seen before. Classics like Freddy Krueger vs Ghostbusters for example had been done before, and I wanted something that wasn't just a beat down. Then I remembered these properties and it took off from there. Thanks for the kind words!

Picard stared with incredulous eyes at the sight before him.

He had used this scenario before. A mansion-turned-school in Winchester, quiet and serene. Within this place, he had many fond conversations with the advocate for Federation values that called it home and enjoyed his company. But this was new and quite frankly, impossible in every sense of the word. The parameters extended only to a single man constructed within and no more.

So who was this man that stood where normally Charles would be seated, looking out at the grounds for Picard to join him? Whoever he was, he did not recognize him in the slightest. 

He was a powerfully built man, clad in dark purple armor. A cape that wouldn't be out of place upon the shoulders of an Emperor rested on his form. His helmet resembled that of a Spartan of old and altogether, he looked intimidating to the layman-a look carefully cultivated, realized the good captain. He knew who he was now. Aloud, he spoke.

"Erik Lensherr I presume?"

He turned to look at him, giving Picard his full attention as he mused aloud in surprise. "Charles? Congratulations on your miraculous recovery. Though I confess, I'm curious as to what purpose it serves you today to act as though you've seen a perfect stranger." Picard shook his head.

"Sir, I am not Charles Xavier. My name is Jean-Luc Picard; Captain of the Enterprise and on occasion when duty permits, I come to visit my friend here." Erik smiled and Picard was struck by the charm inherent in it as the man spoke cordially.

"In that we are much the same Captain. For I too seek out my friend, when duty permits. Though I see by your expression you know of me." Picard nodded and gestured to a seat, taking the chair he normally did when Charles was here, the captain curious as he asked.

"He told me many things. None the least of which was your curious history together and your respective ideology."

"If you refer to the direction our people must take to survive. Then yes." Erik sat down, completely at his own ease though he kept the helmet as he spoke. "Humanity is an intolerant people. I say this with the hindsight of both experience and firsthand account. As a child, I saw thousands rounded up and burned alive for reasons that amounted to simply 'they were different and therefore, undeserving.' Charles believed that humans could understand, could accept us and yet,what does he do? He keeps his people here, on what amounts to less than a reserve for our people and far less than we deserve. Even as a pacifist, he subconsciously knows the truth. I have no such illusions as to the work I perform and thankless as it may be, it is the only way."

"It is true that humans can descend to black depths. But I believe that can change and has changed." Picard declared as Erik looked on politely. "In my time, such barriers had vanished entirely. Racisim, intolerance has become subsumed by a spirit of unity and brotherhood. We reach to the stars together in a Federation and boldly go in a mission to extend this collective mission to all. We are not a perfect people, but am I not living proof that such a future is not simply an impossibility? And worth fighting for?"

Erik's smile grew fond as he looked on before he spoke, his tone nostalgic and a little wistful.

"You even speak like Charles. I must say, the resemblance is quite uncanny. He was quite passionate as well. I had come originally to speak with him. But perhaps fate has given me someone to take his place, however briefly. Very well."

He inclined his head to Picard, Magneto speaking on as he challenged.

"Are you prepared to defend from the platform our mutual friend has declared his hill to die on?" Picard smiled and leaned back. The sun was shining. The tea was hot and he had quite a conversation to look forward to.

"Sir, I was born ready." The two men shook hands.

The debate began.

The Setup

Captain Picard, taking Xavier's place debates with Magneto over the possibility of a peaceful future for mutants and mankind. Will the captain be able to sway the Master of Magnetism? Or will Magneto leave Picard's argument in a wheelchair?

You decide.

Just now, Bergy_Berg said:

"Corvo it's fine, everyone farts. Don't make insane shit up. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"Believe me my friend if it was me? You'd all be dead." He grinned and added more seriously.

"There's a faint smoke trail up ahead. I would have flown over but we've seen what happens when we rush ahead."

Corvo landed, his expression bemused as he spoke.

"So.... Apparently the brimstone and such came from up ahead. Around where we buried the weirdo if I'm any judge." He paused and then in all seriousness spoke.

"I think Elbine was dragged down to Hell." : |

Just now, OMFG said:

Opening the letter, it was evident it was just a common letter, no spells or illusions masking the original message. 

"Drondos,

I see you sent out one of your little adventuring crews to bother me and the girls. Hope many times do I have to tell you, the only way we will stop is if you stop leaving the damn toilet seat up! It's hard enough as it is being a women in today's time, only to come home and find the seat up. It's not hard to put down! Fix this, and I'll consider disbanding our group and coming back to you. Until then, you know where to find us.

Love, Bertha."

 

"-Love Bertha."

Corvo folded up the letter and gave a smile or at least,moved his mouth muscles to make a smile.

A chilling air radiated from him, his fingers flexed to his sword as he said very calmly.

"I'm so glad that all these attacks are done for the most banal of reasons. And that the person in charge of our adventuring group won't do anything about it since his spouse is apparently in charge of it. Doesn't it make you feel like all our efforts were for the best? That we spent our time doing something worthwhile and worthy of our talents?" He began to laugh and it was cold as the rest of his words, biting and harsh now.

"To think too that Elbine thought to ambush and attack us over...A toilet seat matter. Ok, that's a little funny in a grim way." Corvo admitted before he burst out laughing.

His wings flicked out and he suddenly stopped.

"I'll keep an eye out. Red sparks is danger, yellow is unsure. Green is friends."

And he took off into the skies.

TV show Hulk? Hmm.

...Tempted to give it to Lou. But Jason will just keep coming.

 

Just now, Bergy_Berg said:

"Hey, someone read that note. I want to know what we're getting ourselves into here."

This made sense and Corvo opened the note.

Just now, Confession FPT said:

“I don’t like them Amazonian babes,” Muggy pouted, outwardly butthurt, “I’m not inclined to do anything they say.” 

"They were an unpleasant bunch,weren't they? Irregardless we have, technically done what we were here to do-to report on them and not simply burn them to a crisp."

In this at least, he was inclined to give Elbine credit where it was due. After meeting them, he was of the opinion that perhaps it was better to burn and salt the earth where they had camped.

"At any rate my friend, perhaps it was for the best. Following orders is as important as knowing which ones to follow. Besides, imagine how strange it'd be if we were all the same too." His lip might have twitched in a smile as he added.

"If we were all of the same mind as Elbine, every dark corner would be crowded as we joust for position and make incredibly grim commentary."

He went back to reading the letter and doing so aloud for the benefit of the rest.

Just now, Fox said:

Right, sorry.

Please see the tournament rules.  This is a prize tournament with all the legaleeze posted. Basically to qualify, the tournament entries have to be in line with the Tournament rules.

Bummer. Fantastic match though.  I was entertained.

To be fair, you could delete this match, I think, and essentially re-use it with an 80's Vampire.  The Lost Boys, maybe?

Eh it's alright. I had fun writing this one. Mind if I keep this here and just do a new one? It's nice getting the cricks out as it's been a while since I did any CBUB matches. Lol.

Just now, OMFG said:

Big Bertha eyed the travelers quietly, thinking.

"Well...as it currently stands I have 15 of us standing guard outside the door, try anything and you all die." She explained, while the other bandits smacked their swords on their shields as a show of force.

"However..." She continued, "If you were to perform a simple task for me, I'll consider yer request."

Bertha dug into her sizable cleavage, and retrieved a crumpled up letter.

"My ex husband lives in Eastrun, give him this, you will have no reason to return. If he does what is asked of him, I will know."  A sad look slowly manifested in her face, covering the original anger.

"Oh. Of course we could do that." It was simple enough and he took the letter,giving a short bow.

"Thank you for your time, we leave in peace."

And he turned and walked out.

Ah wait I just saw. This is a tabletop game. Does that mean this fight doesn't count since it's not a music video, show or computer game or movie?

Just now, Fox said:

@Hugo Fowl As much as I like this match and the set-up, there is an issue.

These are the Tournament rules:

Players may only use characters in the Tournament from Television shows (including Music Videos - MTV), Movies, Video Games and Commercials released in the decade of the 1980's.

 

The Ravenloft video game was released in the 90's.

I'll need you to show where Stradh is used in film, television or video games in the decade of the 80's.

 

Oh I'm using the actual module itself, published in 1983.

Using Wikipedia as my guide.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ravenloft

 

Ismark Kolyanovich took one look at the rabbit in the room and without a word, did an about face and strode out. Well. That was it. His last hope of summoning someone, anyone who could possibly save his sister from the nightmare to come wasn't dashed so much as kicked in the balls, thrown in a weighted barrel and chucked off a cliff into a dragons cave. He should have known better than to trust that weird summoning book.

What kind of a wizard name was Acme anyway? Sounded like something you'd get on your face at puberty and with such things running through his mind he saw the rabbit again. Of course he would. He noted idly it was wearing gloves and even with the ears, came up to a little above his waist at most.

He was eating a carrot. The loud crunch shattered the awkward silence and gave birth to an entirely new dynasty of awkward silence as before swallowing, the rabbit spoke because why not?

"Eeeh. What's up doc?" Ismark sighed aloud and shrugged once.

"Oh nothing much. My sister, Ireena has been fed upon by a powerful vampire. My father is dead and in a coffin I had to create from some bookshelves. Our home has been constantly under siege by the undead and I spent the last of our arcane components in the hope of summoning someone to deal with Strahd Von Zarovich."

"Gesundheit." The rabbit said politely and Ismark shook his head. "No, that's the name of the vampire with a lust for my sister. Anyway atop of all this, the stress of the situation has driven me irrevocably mad. I fear for my families fate such as it is now."

The rabbit was shocked. His eyes bulged as his entire posture seemed to shudder in exaggeration.

"Mad? Why would you think that?"

Ismark gestured to him. "Well for one, I'm talking to an anthropomorphic rabbit. That seems like a ready indicator." The rabbit made a sound of comprehension, thoughtfully munching the carrot before he spoke. "Yeah, that does sound like you're mad. Tell you what sport!" He pulled out a stepladder and climbed it, absently tucking the carrot remainder behind an ear as he adjusted Ismarks collar and brushed his shoulders.

"Take a nap. When's the last time you rested, eh? I'll go deal with the whole thing and you get a good night's rest and this will be all better when you wake up." Ismark considered and gave a thankful nod.

"Thank you. I'll do just that." And with an about face, Ismark turned and headed upstairs.

The rabbit followed after, taking off his shoes and tucking him in before tip-toeing out.

And with an evil little rub of his hands, Bugs Bunny gave a grin.

"Now then...Where's the old bat anyhow?"

-------

He was ancient. He was the land.

Absolute master of a Hell with only a few hundred souls at most. A life bereft of flavor, his only entertainment found in the adventuring parties snatched by the mists or lured by his servants. He was Strahd Von Zarovich and he was feeling bemused.

Normally he would know when intruders would come to Barovia. There was a sensation to it, a feel he would hone over centuries of life, one night after the other all the same in this prison. Tonight, the flare felt odd. As though the land itself recoiled briefly before smoothing out to what he knew once more.

Strahd felt a tendril of interest penetrate his black heart as he wondered what could have caused such an effect. Would he finally meet an equal? Someone he could have a worthy battle, a clash to remove the boredom and stave off oblivion for a little while? He would not get his hopes up, but something to increase his spirits was always something to look forward to.

And so he would ride in style. Swift as the dead could ride, his coach rumbling across the roads before they began to slow. Strahd frowned and glanced up. That...Shouldn't be happening. They were nowhere near his beloved Tatyana's village. He looked out his window in annoyance.

"Driver, why have we-what." 

Words failed him. Somehow, someone had taken the time to create a brick wall that stretched up twenty feet up and all the way across the width. There was a gate in the center,though locked and with a single guard playing a banjo-quite annoyingly too. Strahd scowled and stepped out of his coach, striding for the little man in all his dark glory.

"Whadda they do when there is no starry sky? Where do they go when they can't go for a walk-."

The singing trailed off as the gate guard smiled. "Eeeh. What's up doc?"

Strahd was not amused. "Whose gate is this and by whose word have they blocked the road?"

"What gate?" The guard glanced and gave a start as if just realizing the brick wall, iron gate and subsequent chair he had been waiting for folks to come by in had just appeared out of nowhere.

"Oh you mean THAT gate? Personally I blame the Patriarchy. But I don't make the rules! It's a dime to get through boss!" Strahd was livid, cape billowing like the wings of an angry fiend as he snarled.

"I am Strahd Von Zarovich! And I demand you open it now before I decide to decorate the spikes with your head!"

The guard did not seem to take this with the seriousness such a threat was made in as he tsk'd.

"Gonna need some ID then." Strahd blinked, confusion filling his frame and as alien as compassion. "What."

"ID! A driver's license, a passport! Something like that." Strahd was beginning to get angry again as he gestured to his coach. 

"The symbol of my house is upon the door! And upon my hand lies my signet ring!"

"I need a picture ID boss. Thems the rules." Strahd was once more at a loss, his lifetime of war and subsequent undead status never giving him a day like this before he snarled. "You will open that gate now. I will not tolerate this buffoonery no longer."

"Oh no I won't!" Strahds eyes widened in rage as his fangs flashed and he snarled again.

"Oh yes you will!"

"Oh no I won't!"

"Oh yes you will!"

"Oh yes I will!"

"Oh no you won't!"

"Oh yes I will!"

"Oh no you won't and I say you won't!" Strahd thundered and the skies darkened and swirled in reaction to his mood. The guard shrugged. "Ok boss. If you say I won't open, I won't open."

Strahd smiled wickedly as he leaned back. "It is good you know your place, vermin." He turned to leave and paused as the guard called out.

"Hey doc, look-just doing my job and just to show no hard feelings? Here!" He presented a cigar and Strahd took it, letting the guard light it as he nodded in approval at the quality. The odd hiss was off-putting, but nothing he couldn't handle. Waving his hand regally, he re-entered his coach and the entire thing turned around and headed back where it had come from.

It made it up to about fifty feet down the road before Strahd realized what the heck had just happened. He also remembered far too late, that he didn't smoke.

Around that point, things got a little blurry as the cigar exploded in the coach.

Back by the gate, Bugs removed his disguise as he snickered and jerked a thumb back towards the couch.

"Get a load of discount Bela Lugiosa here. Uh-oh!" 

Strahd was furious, stepping out from the smoking remains of his vehicle. The skies rumbled as lightning split the skies. Bats swarmed from every corner of Barovia at his call. Wolves howled in the night and the restless dead buried themselves in their graves, wisely hiding for the duration of Strahds anger.

It was going to be a night to remember.

The Setup.

Strahd Von Zarovich. Darklord. Master of Barovia. Ancient and the Land.

Vs one, hoppy boi.

Will Strahd be the one to finally best the rabbit or will Bugs speedrun through Curse of Strahd?
 

We don't talk about the Sonja movie.

 

There IS a Paizo archetype for her though, which is awesome! So by sheer Munchkin ability I'd have to give it to Sonja.

Just now, OMFG said:

The party walked in to Big Bertha's hut.

There, at her desk, sat Big Bertha. A beast of a woman, almost 7 feet tall it surprising that she is full human and no mixed with giant. Around her papers were scattered all over the desk, Berth had on a pair of spectacles analyzing the paperwork, being a bandit did have some measure of paperwork to be done.

She glanced at the party and scowled.

"What did I say of bringing in travelers unannounced?" She barked at her subordinates, frustration straining her big face.

"Boss, these people want to speak with you," one of the bandit s explained, "They have some sort of proposition for us, looks like they don't quite approve of us beating up people and stealing their money for fun."

Bertha stared at the party, it was clear that she was thinking, as if a tiny hamster was running on a wheel inside her head, each thought calculated and cunning.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Bertha asked them, the question aimed at no one in particular.

"I must ask first if you've killed anyone in your mugging." Said Corvo when it seemed no one else was going to talk before he elaborated.

"Also, the one who attacked you all from before is dead. Buried some four hours down the road, after an attempt to strong arm is into obeying them to burn you all out or some drivel like that. We're not violently inclined and truly do wish a peaceful solution but if you've all killed innocent travelers than madame, that may well change our meeting now."

Apologies folks, it's been a while and my age is showing. Lol

The quickest way to know a place, was to know its dreams. This place however was strange in the sense that it reminded him most of a patchwork man, in the sense that it seemed to be everything and nothing all at once.

People believe, thought the Priest as he strode through the crowd. It's what people do after all. They believe, and then they do not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things twisted and strange, and do not trust what emerged from the depths of their mind. For centuries, they would populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with fossil and radio waves, with tales. People imagine, and people believe; and it is that rock solid belief, that makes things happen. And they had believed in many things to make New York City what it was now.

People believed you could find anything in New York City and so you did.  Torri gates that led to Nowhere, sanctums of power bearing symbols from every part of the Nevernever. There was an alleyway reputed to hold a homeless soldier of Hell drifting among the urban mythos of concrete and steel, one among many. Among hot dog vendors they spoke of gods who drifted from the skies, men of iron and men out of time.  And between the lines, the Priest saw the stories that had furrowed their path and kept them going as stories do.

He saw it in every lightning storm on Wednesday in honor of a father, in the totems of the beasts on every cover of the Daily Bugle when Spider clashed with Scorpion, Rhino, Vulture or Octopus. He felt it in the echoes of the Dark Dimension, when scorched tire marks burned the streets and evil was quelled. He saw it constantly, in the rituals and traditions saved by generations of folk who had fled their lands and brought their stories with them. Aswang and     Aos Sí, Gods of long dead civilizations, now driving Taxis and trying to get on by.

It was a jungle with laws he did not understand, far from those who knew of him and his traditions.  But there was always a need for a Priest.

No matter what situation he found himself in.

----------

2007

"Thank ye lass for taking the time to see me."

The figure across from him in the diner looked mildly nonplussed. She was pretty-beautiful even, though the years had shown their mark upon her. Clad in a suit dress as a secretary or office worker might favor, her hair would be tied back in a simple ponytail with her only concession to decoration being a scrunchy and some light makeup. Well, that was not entirely correct.

On her lapel of the collared shirt was an odd symbol. Of a full, grey coloration and representing a branch of some sort. Not exactly something that tied into her look but it led him to believe he was on the right path. Her voice was lightly skeptical as she eyed him.

"I'm sorry. But why exactly does the Catholic Church want to know about my uncle again?"

The priest smiled briefly, giving an inclination of his head as he spoke with the touch of a brogue. "Tha' would be Jack Burton, yes? Fer the record of course. And you are Sarah Williams-author of the Labyrinth. I have orphans who adore yer work. When this is over, would ye be so kind as t'autograph it for em? Would give em a kick t'them to know I met THE Sarah Williams."

She smiled despite herself, nodding before the priest continued with glee, one white gloved hand pushing his glasses up along the bridge of his nose before he switched on the tape recorder.

"Now Miss Williams. I represent a particularly branch of our Lord. One interested in t'events mentioned in yer book. Or at least, what came after." She paused and eyed him, obviously considering before she spoke.

"Father, it's just a story. Fiction. There's no such thing as goblins or the like." His grin grew wider as he nodded to her collar.

"I'd be more inclined t'believe if it weren't for tha'. Rowan twig, encased in iron. Got a 'Fair' problem, Miss Williams?" She looked startled now and the priest said more kindly.

"Not gonna hurt ye lass. I'm full human me. An' I'm not gonna hurt Burton either. Fact is-mans got a lot done, albeit by accident an' the luck and grace of God. I'm just collecting t'stories in between. The ones passed over, overlooked and fell through the cracks. Not just him either I can tell ye."

She pondered this for a moment and then asked the question he knew she would.

"Why? Why would you want to know?" The priest grinned again.

"'Cause a story ain't truly one till it's been shared. So how about it?"

For a moment he'd thought he lost her and felt a twinge of regret as she looked at the door. Then she turned back to him and nodded and he laughed with glee.

"Good on ye lass! So! Jack Burton...?"

----------

1988

Sarah's world was shattered.

Before her, the application to Julliard laid where it was, starkly taunting her with it's rejection. The worse of it was how nice they had tried to be, saying she wasn't what they were looking for. Why? Her mother was an actress....She was an actress, had long since fallen in love with the stage and the magic inherent upon it. To tear that away, what made her happiest made her sick and hot. Her stomach flopped, she wanted to vomit as tears fell and would not stop.

Her dreams were ashes now and nothing would save them. 

So lost was she in her despair, that she didn't hear the door open. Nor the calls until strong arms wrapped firmly around her, a scent of beer and sweat-normally sickening but comforting in this context wrapped around her as a voice all but snarled above.

"Alright, who did it and how painful are we making it?" She hiccuped with laughter, despite herself before crying again and Jack Burton hugged her tighter.

He was a black sheep of the family. A truck driver, transporting all sorts of things across the states and always with a wild story he would share with her. He wasn't the best of storytellers, but his earnest manner and sincere nature always made her feel they were all true. Like he was telling her a secret story of how the world was, known between them alone. She had forgot he was coming over and she shook her head.

"It's not a boy Uncle Jack. It's my application to Julliard." She pointed to the letter, her tears a bit more exhausted as her uncle plucked it up and squinted. A few moments later, he howled in outrage.

"Rejected?! Those hacks! Listen baby to ol' Uncle Jack, the paper they spend to print their acceptance ain't worth a candle in a light bulb factory. You think Shakespeare graduated from Julliard? No! He went out, he forged his way and damned to the man who tells him stop! And that's what you do babe, you forget these losers and move on forward. One step at a time, into the face of that storm!"

She sniffed and then her arms moved to hug him back. He stroked her hair, did his best to comfort her as she said quietly. "I know Uncle. But it was my dream. And it just hurts so much. Sometimes I just wish it would all go away. No more dreams, no more hurt."

Jack smiled kindly as he looked down at her. "You stop hurting, you stop living kid. That's life. Sure it hurts now, I won't lie about that. And maybe you feel like that hole in your heart is gaping wide but you don't get rid of em. You fix them!" He waved the letter with one hand, gesturing as he spoke.

"If this school doesn't accept you, you build up and shore up what they think you don't have. You don't drive trucks without gas or spark plugs, you gotta make sure all of it is one machine in unity! Then you can go anywhere. You'll get in." And then he ruined it as he said happily.

"And if not? I'll just drive my truck down there and challenge the dean to good ol'fashioned fisticuffs. Mano-a-mano as God made men." It worked. Sarah began to laugh, burying her face into his shoulder as she spoke. "Thank you Uncle Jack."

He grinned broadly, an easy expression that was often on his face. "What else are uncle's for? Now where's your kid brother?"

-------

2007

"He sounds like a good man."

Sarah nodded, coffee in hand as she nursed it and smiled wistfully.

"He was. He was never eloquent or anything like that. He was downright rough in fact. But he was honest in everything he did and if he expressed anything,he was always sincere about it. But I didn't know just how much his drive for us was until later that night."

------

1988

Jack Burton snoozed on the couch. No beer, which was regrettable but with kids in the house he didn't want to leave any temptation yet. Last thing he needed was his brother getting all pissy because Toby vomited all over the floor. Still, he was worried more for his niece. 

She was a deeply sensitive soul which made sense for her choice of careers, but she felt far too keenly and shone too brightly for certain powers. One of which was about to enter...Now.

Jack's eyes flew open on the couch.

His hand went for his knife, his entire attitude on alert. He was not a smart man, Jack Burton and he would be first to admit it. But he made up for it with instincts honed from a lifetime on the road and among the weirdness of the world.

And right now, all of them were doing the equivalent of standing on a chair and screaming aloud, Jack rushing up the stairs and to his nieces room. There before him, the figure of a man he only vaguely knew was in the process of removing a crystal orb from Sarah's sleeping head and Jack saw red.

"Get away from my niece, David Bowie!"

He slashed out and the figure swiftly skipped back, an actual cape swirling about him and Jack took full advantage of it, yanking him off his feet as he smashed the handle of his knife on the skull of the man. There was a sound like a burning brand, a pained scream and then a look of sheer hatred that had Jack actually step back though keeping himself between the intruder and Sarah who miraculously, had not even stirred.

Now that Jack could take a better look as well, he realized it wasn't actually David Bowie. He was dressed far too conservative for one. The only thing off putting was the burn mark on his forehead, as in an elegant tone he hissed.

"Iron?! You DARE to wield the Bane against ME?!"

Jack snorted. "Honey, I'll do a lot more than that. When a man comes a-creeping into his nieces room, there's a god-given duty for all Men to do their utmost best to ventilate them. Now hold still so I could do it again."

"I was INVITED!" The other snapped and Jack squinted, pausing momentarily before he spoke.

"You got ten seconds to give me the cliff notes version, and make it snappy."

The other man sniffed and adjusted his collar as he spoke regally.

"I am Jareth. Goblin King and I had been accepted and called by my sweet Sarah Williams. She wished for the dreams to go away and stop hurting." He held up the crystal sphere, bouncing it back and forth along his hand. "I would do anything for her and so I fulfilled her request. She no longer will feel pain nor heartache from that which she no longer has."

Jack was horrified and then outraged. "You took away her dreams?! Buddy, forget ventilating you! I'm gonna chop you up into so many pieces and then call in a favor to ship you to the Hell of being Whacked on the Head while being insulted!" Jareth looked puzzled and Jack shrugged.

"The Chinese have a lot of Hells. But never mind that! You can't take away her dreams! That's what she is! She loses that, she'll lose everything that made her Sarah! Now put it back!"

Jareth scowled. "I refuse."

"Then buddy? You and me are gonna have a problem." 

Jareth laughed with scorn and mockery. "You? What can you do? You're just a little ape out of his cage, unknowing of how the world runs." He turned and made a gesture.

The air ripped before him and revealed a strange world, a glimpse of a vast maze of some kind glimpsed as Jareth strode through. Jack scowled and looked to Sarah.

"Don't worry babe. Uncle Jacks got a jockstrap to stuff down an assholes throat! Get back here!"

And on instinct, as the portal was closing...Jack Burton ran for it and leaped through. The portal closed.

Sarah Williams turned in her sleep.

The Setup

An experienced Jack Burton after the events of Big Trouble in Little China armed with his trusty knife and wits(such as they are) must brave the realm of the Goblin King to claim the dreams of Sarah Williams back.

Will Jack Burton get his check in the mail and claim the dreams? Or has the titular driver bitten off more than he can chew?

You decide.

Huh. This sounds fun.

I also have an idea now.

Just now, OMFG said:

*How come you never stroke me like she just did to that overgrown turtle?* Jessamine complained.

"....."

He wondered if Great Old One Warlocks had the same problems as he did.

Just now, OMFG said:

OOC: @Hugo Fowl rolled a 3+6, @The Boob Tube rolled a 6. Average DC of 10... Bad luck on that one.

However, @SSJRuss rolled a 10!!

IC:

The bandit turned to Corvo, "Listen buddy, you better stop mansplaining before we kick your ass like we did to that perverted cat." She gestured to his private parts, implying that they're going to be chopping them off 

In their rage, the completely disregarded Clara.

However, once they saw Farley, the bigger bandit's eyes lit up.

"OH! A cute turtle! I used to have one just like you when I was a wee lass!" The bandit exclaimed, nostalgia in her voice.

She dropped her sword and ran up to Farley, stroking his bald turtle head.

"Who's the goodest turtle?" She asked, cooing him as she caressed his scalp. "What can momma do for the widdle turtle and his widdle friends?" The bandit would ask.

 

 

"Down Jessamine." Corvo muttered, sotto voce. 

The end result was that they were in and he would NOT have to kill more people today.

That was always a bonus.

Just now, OMFG said:

As the trio walks up to the door, 3 armed bandits met them at the entrance.

2 of them with blades and shields, the other one with a greatsword.

Eyeing the members of the party up and down, the one with the larger blade spoke first.

"You're lucky you have a women with you, or we would've strung you up by the nads you filthy male." She utters, words full of venom and disgust.

The other girl spits in the floor, while her friend cracks her knuckles.

"What hell do you..." She starts, before suddenly stopping. "Wait a minute... You're all wearing the same badge as that annoying ass cat that flashed us earlier!"

The bandits draw their weapons, finger on the proverbial trigger.

"Come back for more huh?"

"My name is Corvo of the Healing Church. The one who has done you harm has paid for his crimes. I wielded the sword myself."

Corvo said as he added swiftly, this little hiccup NOT in the plan making him speak for damage control before he planned it. "We had been tasked to do something about your group, true. But then I was curious and decided to look into why such a group came to be. From what I understand, all of you had been beaten or subjected unlawfully and immorally by men. Knowing this, we have come to find justice for all-and not simply death. There's been enough of that." He paused and added more kindly, pulling down his mask to show his expression-open and earnest.

"Make no mistake. There will be justice. But it will not be found in lashing at the world, forgetting what it means to be a person. Or in killing everything that disagrees or is different from you."

[Using persuasion for this. Also, pls back me up guys. Give it your best shot. Lol.]

Just now, The Boob Tube said:

As Corvo knocks on the gate, Clara uses the spell Blade Ward on herself in preparation for a possible attack. 

"Don't forget what we said and if you have any problems, look to me or Farley to talk." Corvo muttered in support.

Just now, The Boob Tube said:

Clara takes a few deep breaths as she prepares to head into camp. "Okay, we can do this. I can do this." As Clara leaves her spellbooks tucked into a nice little corner, she pulls out her small pouch in hand and heads over to Corvo and Farley. "Let's go."

Ok. It was time to shine.

Goro approached the gate, cleared his throat and taking up Jessamine...Knocked on the gates with her hilt.

Loudly.

Just now, SSJRuss said:

"Yes that how I remember it."

As we get in sights of the camp, Farley stands out in front. He is ready to approach the gate when his companions are.

Corvo does the same and prepares himself for what's to come.

Just now, The Boob Tube said:

Ooc: How many bandits are occupying this camp?

OOC: We know there's 15 in all but not sure. They seemed lax though from my scouting so I'm guessing they're all inside.

If not and things go south, I'll try to carry the smallest of the party away.

 

Just now, The Boob Tube said:

"So does this mean I'll be the distraction? I walk up to the front gate and talk to these strong ladies? What should I say to them exactly?"

Corvo banked and swooped down, flapping his wings once to settle gently. As they retracted in, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Not sure what part of the plans you remember. But I felt a reminder was in order just in case. You, Farley and me will step up to the gates. Call out then for Bertha of the Rowdy Maidens and say we are here for justice on behalf of those among them affected."

He paused and gave off a grim air as he added. "These are battered women now. Folks who fled and took to violence, believing there was no other option. As a result, they're on a hair trigger. Everyone try not to upset them, though I feel we should be fine. Can't be too careful."

Especially now that their troublemaker was gone.

It was a bad thought, but not inaccurate the Tiefling felt.