Log:Lucky Charms Paintball
<Log> Final form for Lucky's Logger:
| Lucky Charms Paintball | |
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| Participants | May 3, 2017 ' |
| Location | |
| In his eternal quest to better himself, Hex decides he probably should learn how to wield a gun. Only, he's never wielded a gun, and he knows his luck, and he'd rather not die the first attemp, and so he comes up with an alternative idea! Paintball. And, well, because you can't play paintball alone, and because he's gotten his phone back and it hasn't yet been eaten by anything, he calls Lucky up, inviting him down. Assuming Lucky has a phone number, or that Hex gets it right. He might be invited a complete stranger down, which wouldn't be a first. Nevertheless, he's dressed in black. He has a paintball gun. He's runing around a castle, popping shots at people, hiding here and there. He's actually good at the hidng part. Not so much at the popping shots part. It's easier for Lucky to spot him, due to that glowing. Those ethereal glimpses of glowing wings as he ducks behind a wall. So far, his black sweatshirt and jeans are black, meaning he hasn't gotten hit. He also fumbles with the gun, his own shots going sideways. He's not really sure how to use this thing. And then one ball is harder than the rest. It bounches off the castle wall, ricocheting back to smack Hex in the forehead, splatting dark blue paint there. Who needs enemies?
-> >> Lucky to Here << <-=============================================Rolled 1 Success < 1 3 9 > =======================-> >> Dexterity + Firearms - 2 No Flags << <-Lucky is dressed in his typical black jeans and t-shirt, the knit cap helping to keep his hair under control. Once again, he's got those gloves on... the pristine right one and the tattered left one. They seem to be a part of his usual attire. But this time, he's got a paintball gun over his shoulder, looking at Hex as the man moves around the castle, taking potshots at targets that never get hit. Lucky slides up to Hex's position just as that last paintball is ricocheting back to him, taking a few drops of splatter damage from the blue. It takes him a second to figure out what just happened, but eventually it dawns on him. Covering his mouth to avoid at least being totally rude, he still can't fully supress the building snicker as he sees the poor dragon's forehead. "Dude, are you alright? Also," he adds, leaning over the cover and taking a potshot at the nearest teenager, striking him squarely in the shoulder, "you should maybe get down before your luck gets any worse."
-> >> Hex to Here << <-===============================================Rolled 0 Success < 5 5 6 > ===========================-> >> Dexterity + Firearms No Flags << <-Hex takes all the potshots! He's good at that. Sure, he never hits anything, other than richotets that hit himself, but he keeps them on their toes. Or at least amused. He's found a spot to hunker down in, though, defensive. Because his team isn't doing so well, largely likely because Hex is on it. But then Hex spots Lucky. He waves a hand at him, beckong him over. A pink splat of paint appears on it and there's a yelp of pain, because paintballs do pack a little punch. He lifts his gun, aiming and takes a shot at one of the teengagers. He misses completely. It hits the castle wall, a burst of bright pint, alerting pretty much everyone as to where his hiding/sniping shot is. He ducks down, then glances at Lucky with those silvery eyes, those shadowy, incorpreal wings fluttering behind him, and he says, "Retreat. Back behind the west end. Good cover, already scoped it out." Aw, look, he knows something. Nevermind that he's a giant glowing (paint splattered) beacon. And what could go wrong?
-> >> Lucky to Here << <-=============================================Rolled 2 Successes < 1 7 8 9 > ===================-> >> Dexterity + Firearms + 1 - 2 No Flags << <-Lucky watches as the man's hand explodes into that bright pink color, wincing a little bit of his pain. Paintballs hurt when you're not expecting them. "Shit, dude," he tells his companion. "When I said 'get down', I kind of meant, you know. -All- of you." Because he's already seen Hex's luck, or lack thereof, in action. "So this thing you've got. Is it contagious? Do I need to watch my ass here?" Still, he listens to what the other man has to say, nodding along. Screw the team. It's every man for himself. But Lucky seems to have decided that keeping Hex safe is in his best interest. Or, at least, is part of his moral obligation. "Alright," he tells the other. "Lead the way. Don't fucking trip. I'll keep these guys busy." Standing up from behind his cover, Lucky shoulders the gas rifle, taking aim at a cluster of them near a window. Letting out a primal yell that would make Rambo proud, he pumps off a few rounds from the gun, as quickly as he can manage. It's not exactly -great- aim, but he still manages to hit his target (the middle one) a few times, causing the others to scatter and giving Hex a nice little break so he can make a run for it. "Go! Right behind you!"
He's clonked, and goes down for a moment, groaning, still crawling. Always determined. He's still clenching his rifle, which goes off, shooting him in the shoulder with a ball of bridge yellow. And that close, it hurts. Hex lets out a yowl. How even does he survive day to day life? He manages to make it to the wall, dragging himself, coveredin paint and dirt and welling bruises. He leans against it, panting. He glanes up at Lucky. "Ok, you have to help me. Make them feel like they're losing. Like they're doomed. Like they can't escape that shot of yours." And he'll try to remember how to breath again, while he soaks up the Glamour.
But then Hex is talking. Talking about making them think that he's some badass that they can't win against, and Lucky just has to shake his head. "How the fuck do you expect me to do that, exactly? Wave my dick at 'em until they realize how outgunned they are? In case you haven't noticed, they're kind of winning. And I don't think I can do... whatever that is." By which, of course, he means through magic. Looking satisfied with Hex's head, Lucky asks, "So. Do you have a plan B? Because I'm pretty sure that I don't know how to do Plan A."
-> >> Hex to Here << <-===============================================Rolled 0 Success < 1 1 2 4 7 > ===============================-> >> Wits + Academics No Flags << <-"It didn't /trip/. It's not my fault, okay?" He grumbles, reaching up to rub at his forehead, smearing the paint. "You're supposed to be getting revenge, why are you here worrying about me?" He bats at Lucky's hands, although there's a reluctance there. He actually likes the concern - it's not something he sees muc of - but old habits die hard. He pushes himself up, "I know the spot. Come on, follow me." The one that's covered in paint, that actually shot himself once, in a fashion. But he doesn't leave time for argument. He's darting off towards the west end, as he calls it. And it doesn't look like a bad choice. It's good cover. It's around the bend. And apparently the enemy also realizes that. Because as Hex (and pressumably Lucky, if he decides to follow) come around the corner, there's four guys waiting with their paintball rifles pointed. Hex screeches to a stop, hits a rock, and promptly falls on his face. T hat leaves the paintball rifle bears all focused on Lucky. Should be be silly enough to follow Hex, that is.
-> >> Lucky to Here << <-=============================================Rolled 5 Successes for an exceptional success. < 2 4 6 7 9 9 10 10 10 > ====================-> >> Presence + Intimidation + 2 No Flags << <-And of course Lucky is silly enough to follow Hex. Or maybe brave. Possibly reckless. And of course, it ends exactly how he thinks it will; with Hex on his face (which in this case at least works to his advantage) and Lucky staring down the business end of four paintball guns. Lucky doesn't even hesitate. Raising the gun, he adopts the most badass stance he can possibly muster, looking the group leader in the eye as he flashes the man an overconfident smile. "If you look carefully, you'll notice that I don't have a mark on me," he tells the others. "There's a reason for that. I'm pretty damn good at this. So good, in fact, that I just managed to hit four of your boys back there in the wide open without so much as taking a grazing shot. Stepping over on top of Hex, Lucky puts his feet on either side of the man's ribcage. Almost protectively. "So. You have a choice," he tells the others. "You can either try your luck with me. Or you can go maybe back your buddies up, and I don't shoot you in the fucking eye, Christmas-Story style. Whaddaya say?" And just to emphasize his point, he lets the glamour flow through him, emphasizing that musculature, the careful way he's aiming, the general predatory, doom-inspiring nature of it all. Because if you're going to be touched by the Fae, you might as well make it worth your while.
-> >> Hex to Here << <-===============================================Rolled 0 Success < 1 3 4 6 > ==========================================-> >> 2 + 2 No Flags << <-Ok, it's pretty much par for the course, falling on his face. And, of course, his face hits right where a worm is crawling up from the ground, and it ends up in his mouth, and he's gagging a moment. He spits it out, flailing, and his own rifle skitters across the ground, out of reach. He pushes himself up, gathering his bearings, to see those four dudes facing off Lucky. And Lucky yelling at them. And those guys hesitate. Sure, it's just paintball, but the guy seems really serious about it. The biggest dude says, "Hey dont' want no trouble... " and he's backing off. But the look in his gaze indicates that he'll be back, oh yes. This isn't over! But he's retreating with his cronies, for not. Rifle man is a little too serious, and their location a little too defendable. Nevermind the paint splattered man struggling to get up. Hex rubs his head as he finds his head, watching the enemies run off. "Wow." He looks towards Lucky, "That was pretty amazing." Bruised, paintballed, scuffed up, he doesn't care. He lurches forward and wraps his arms around Lucky, hugging the other man. Something's bound to go drastically wrong. Maybe a plane crash? A dolphine falling from the sky? A spontaneous volcano?
"Now," he adds, "how about we get you out of this particular deathtrap before you do something really drastic and bring the whole castle down on top of our heads, hmm? I'm thinking I could use a beer. And I'm thinking we need to figure out what the fuck is up with your luck so that we can try and -fix- that shit. Before some random atmospheric effect does a lensing number and you not-so-spontaneously combust." He makes the waggling fingers, adding a 'fwoosh' for good measure.
"Whip it out, got it. Except, um, I don't really have anything to whip out. I mean, the things I'm good out, you don't really want to whipe them out. I mean, not that I'm not good at other things, and i couldn't whipe that out, but I mean..." He's just digging himself deeper, and he had enough awareness to realize it, so he trails off. He clears his throat, then nods, his clothes not a bit dusty, torn here and there, "Yeah, I could use a beer. And, trust me, there's no cure. You don't think I've looked? It's been this way forever, it'll always be this way, the best I can do it curtail it, minimize it." And it might not seem like he is, but compared to a few years ago, Hex is downright lucky. He looks at Lucky. "How are you so... so /optimistic/?"
"And you're missing the point," Lucky tells him. "Nobody's got anything to show off, half the time. The point is to make -them- think you do, man. So what if you don't. They're not gonna risk showing their own shit if they think yours is bigger. That would be humiliating. It's best to just part ways. And that's where all the power lies." Though at the question about being optimistic, he just has to laugh, offering the unlucky one a little shrug. "I mean, what's the alternative? You lose hope, you lose everything, man. Sure, you might be fucked in the end. Not everything's gonna come up roses all the time. But if you just roll over and die before you're actually dead, what's the point?"
"I'm not missing the point. /You're/ missing the point. Or maybe you're not, I don't don't. But I'm not talking about rolling over and dying. I'm not talking about giving up. We're all screwed, yeah. There's really no way out of this, and there's no way we can win. But rolling over?" He shakes his head and offers a smile, one that shows some teeth, that accents what he is - or what he isn't. "No. You embrace it /harder/. Because you only have so much time, so it's even /more/ important to put it to good use."
"As far as Doppelgangers, well. I mean, they've always been around," Luck reminds him. "Look at Charlemagne when he was pretending to be Paul Monet back in the day. Or now, when he's pretending to be Keanu Reeves."
He catches himself, smily almost shyly. "I mean, I don't know everything, I'm not claiming I do, but you live with my brand of luck long enough, you learn a few things. And rolling over? I think more and more less likely, because once you've been through enough, there's no stopping, no turning back, no giving up. It'd be a waste at that point, and who has time for that?" He grunts at the slap to the shoulder. He's tall, and fit, but he's not that strong, not that sturdy, and so he feels it. "Wait, what? I mean, i guess I wouldn't be all that surprised, but I really expected better from Keanu." There's a quirk to his lips, a glint to his eyes, that indicates that he's playing. And there's a hint of caution there, too. it's been at least two minutes since ill luck has befalling Hex, and so he's starting to grow nervous.
Lucky only as a few splatters of paint on him, from hex's ricochet earlier, so he does't even look like he needs to change clothes. Hex -- well. Hex looks like a unicorn came all over him. Hard. "You wanna take a shower or something before we head out, or you wanna go to the bar like that? With all those colors, I think we might need to pick a bar of a certain persuasion."
He nods, "The tower /will/ come falling down. It always does. But you're not all wrong. I mean, you just build another tower, right? it'll fall, too, but you build it anyway. Because what else are you going too do?" The question about the shower has him looking down at his colorful self. He just had to wear black, didn't he? He looks back up at Lucky and shrugs, "It wouldn't matter." He always ends up scuffed up, banged up, dirty. "Not that I would mind showering with you, but, well, mine's out of order at the moment. After the racoon incident, and that pipe breaking, I had to shut the water off." Just typical Hex stuff. "Where do you want to go?"
Lucky looks over at the guy and just.... sighs. "Alright," he tells the other man. "First, you're gonna walk with me to wherever the nearest place to get a beer is. And while we do that, you're gonna tell me all about the racoon, and the pipe breaking. There's gotta be a way to mitigate some of that. Those levels are ridiculous!"
He follows Lucky out into the air, and even he takes a breath, enjoying the crispness of it. He may be a fatalist, but he enjoys it while he has it. There's nothing like the hammer of doom hanging over your head constantly to make you appreciate the little things in life. He shakes his head, "It's been like this long as I can remember. As for the raccoons..." He goes into a rather elaborate stories about raccoons breaking into his house, taking up residence in the attic, stealing food, waking Hex up by scampring over his feet at night, and other occurences, until finally the pipe incident happened and now the whole bath tub has to be removed in order to repair the damage caused by the faulty raccoon trap that exploded. It is, really, the story of Hex's life. Hex doesn't even seem all that upset by it - it's just another thing, like all the other things. And he seems to enjoy talking about it, having company. He's been alone for so long, unless you count the hobs and marketeers and other crazies he's dealt with in his travels. But this, this is different.
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