# Exit 23 Dark•Matter Story Hour (NOW COMPLETE!)



## Desdichado (Nov 18, 2003)

*Exit 23 Dark•Matter Story Hour (NOW COMPLETE!)*

Yeah, I'm startin up another Story Hour.  "But Mr. Joshua Dyal, why don't you just finish one of your old ones?" I'm sure you're saying.  Why indeed?

This particular story hour is more like a story minute.  On November 15th, there was the infamous Chicago ENWorld Gameday, and I drove over from Detroit to join the fun.  I ended up running two scenarios, the "Duchess' Tea Party" and "Exit 23" which is a Dark•Matter module converted up into d20 Modern.  Because of the nature of the two games, it will be much easier for me to write a story hour of the second rather than the first, so this thread will have me posting chunks of Dark•Matter while I think about a good way to write up the other game.

Because I'm not one of those kinds of "memory people", I don't recall a lot of the dialogue or even the exact sequence of events, even though this only took place a few days ago.  So, this story hour is a reasonable approximation of the game, not the game as it actually played.  It's close to the game that actually played, but not exact.

I gave all the PCs pregens; in fact, I used the characters from the Dark•Matter book and "converted" them into d20 Modern.  Conversion is a term I use fairly loosely, what I actually did was read the character summary paragraph and use simply that.  Dark•Matter split the characters fairly equally in terms of gender, but two of the players had female pregens that they subsequently changed the gender of.  Here's a quick summary of the _dramatis personae_.

*Jane McDermott:*  Jane McDermott grew up in Boise, Idano.  After attending a local community college for two years, she took the Idaho State Trooper exam and plassed with flying colors.  She's been out of the academy for about a year and a half now, which is long enough that her peers don't call her "rookie" anymore unless they're trying to get under her skin.  In fact, her fellow officers made a point of giving her a necklace with a silver bullet on it to commemorate the time she saved a man from a rabid coyote that attacked him while he was changing his tire on the roadside.  

Officer McDermott is tall and athletic.  She has always enjoyed physical challanges, and she spends a lot of her off-duty time rock climbing and working on her tae kwon do.  She's very stubborn and self-reliant, and strongly inclined to handle situations by herself instead of calling in help if it's at all possible.  That might get her into trouble someday...

Player:  William Ronald

d20 Modern Conversion:  3rd level Strong Hero


*Will Wheeler:*  Will Wheeler is a native of Moscow, Idaho.  He joined the Army right out of high school and served for a four-year enlistment before coming back home to work on his father's ranch.  When the ranch failed and tax collectors confiscated his family's land, Will decided that he didn't need to support the government with his tax dollars anymore.  He's drifted through a couple of militia groups and his currnelty living in an isolated "free haven" run by a group calling itself the Liberty Church.  Will's also a little bit wanted by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, but they haven't posted an APB on him yet.

Will is a short, broad-shouldered man built like a baby bull.  He dresses in camo pants, Army boots, and T-shirts, and he wears his hair shoulder-length.  He's paranoid and angry, and he's got a lot of guns.  But he honestly believes that America could be a better place, and he's willing to do anything to make it all happen.

Player: jalea

d20 Modern Conversion: 3rd level Tough Hero.


*Dr. Ned Neary (formery Nadine Neary):*  Dr. Neary lives in Rochester, Minnesota, where he works at the Mayo Clinic.  His specialty is infectious diseses, and he often consults with the CDC -- the Centers for Disease Control.  He grew up in Iowa and attended Iowa State on an athletic scholarship before he went to medical school; he's still in good shape, and he likes to exercise to get his mind off his work.  Dr. Neary is currently headed for Seattle, where he is scheduled to speak at a microbiology conference.

Ned Neary is a small, slender man with short-cropped hair and a friendly, open manner.  He has a knack for putting people at ease.

Player: shadowlight

d20 Modern Conversion: 3rd level Dedicated Hero.


*Don Truitt (formerly Donna Truitt):*  Don Truitt is a professional burglar.  He specializes in coroporate espionage and similar high-security break-ins, stealing research data, account information, and similar materials on a contract basis.  He was recruited and trained by the CIA out of college, but he left the Agency several years ago to pursue a freelance career.  While he's very capable of defending himself if discovered, Don is very careful to avoid hurting people; he even refuses to work for people who might use the material he recovers to harm innocent people.  Don currently resides in Seattle, since many of his jobs take him to various high-tech corridors around the Pacific Rim.

Don is a physically fit man with dark hair and a disarming smile.  He's very cynical and suspicious of people representing business or government interests.  He usually tells people that he works as a security consultant.

Player:  Hoog

d20 Modern Conversion:  3rd level Fast Hero


*Dr. Phillip Akens:*  Dr. Akens has been studying paranormal activity for more than twenty years.  He started out by investigating alleged haunted houses and psychic phenomena as a graduate student, and he's become one of hte foremost experts on ghosts, hauntings, and occult traditions in the Midwest.  Most academics don't take him seriously, of course, but Dr. Akens is one of the more reputable specialists in his field.  He teaches anthropology and linguistics and Marquette University in Milwaukee in order to maintain some credibility with the college administration and to fund his occult investigations.

Dr. Akens is a tall, dignified man forty years of age, with a thoughtful manner and a deep, pleasant voice.  He always takes people at their word and assumes that they're telling the truth about their experiences until hard evidence proves otherwise.

Dr. Akens ia currently travelling to Portland to look into a reported haunted house.  He's accompanied by Doug Nichols, a photojournalist.

Player: Trevalon Moonleirion

d20 Modern Conversion:  3rd level Smart Hero.


*Doug Nichols:*  Ever since he was a kid, Doug Nichols has loved cameras and journalism.  He worked on his school paper, served a tour in the Navy as a journalism specialist, and started freelancing as a photographer as soon as he got out of the service.  He's been all over the world, specializing in archeology shoots and nature documentaries.  Documentary work pays the bills, but Nichols has another hobby -- ghost-hunting.  When he can find the time, he tries his hand a paranormal investigation, hoping to catch an image of something that's never been photographed before.

Nichols is a rangy, big-boned man in his late twenties.  He has a laid-back manner, and he enjoys outdoor sports of all kinds.  He's currently travling with Dr. Phillip Akens, a paranormal investigator who intends to check out a reported haunting in Portland.  But after that, Nichols hopes to get in some mountaineering, extreme skiing, and hiking around the southern Cascades before heading home.

Player: cdsaint

d20 Modern Conversion:  3rd level Charismatic Hero.
As the story progresses, I intend to write it up in "story format"; that is, not as a play session or play log, but rather as if it were a short story (or novella, as it will more likely turn out to be.)  When I do make OOC DM comments, I'll highlight the comments like so.


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## Desdichado (Nov 18, 2003)

"Exit 23"
I.​
Mabel looked up and shivered.  One more set of headlights was shining through the glass doors; one more car had made it through the night.  That, in and of itself, was pretty amazing.  In the middle of nowhere in Southern Idaho, twenty three miles north of the Utah border on I-15, weather was never pretty this time of year, but tonight's weather was just freakish.  (Actually, I looked at a map of Idaho and the mileage markers count down from the Utah border, not up, so "Exit 23" should really be "Exit 184" or some such number.  However, right about where exit 23 should be is not right in the middle of nowhere, it's right in the middle of Boise.  I'm not actually sure where "Exit 23" is supposed to be located, so I just took a guess and ran with it.)

The headlights turned off, and Mabel could hear the thunk of a car door closing, although it was muted and dull.  A dark figure walked into the door, and turned once it was apparent that everyone here was sitting in the McDonalds located to the right.  The newcomer was tall, blond -- a striking woman.  Mabel's eyes slipped unconsciously to the pistol at her belt.  She was also a state trooper.

"Evening, honey," Mabel said.  "It's nice to see you made it to the parking lot instead of ending up in a ditch."  The trooper smiled at Mable and walked over to have a seat near her.  There were a handful of other people in the restaurant too, people stranded there.  A short burly man with long hair and tattered camos gave the trooper a surly glance, then looked away.  The small, dark-haired doctor looked up and smiled briefly, then returned to his papers.  Another man cursed softly and hit his laptop.  "He's been doing that off and on," whispered Mabel conspiringly.  "Whenever the storm blocks his satellite Internet access."

Two other men sat together talking quietly, a tall, middle-aged black man and a younger, broader white man.  A balding businessman in a suit glanced at his watch, then walked away from the restaurant towards the bathroom.  He took his briefcase with him.  A truckdriver in a cheap parka and a Detroit Tigers baseball cap gave him a glare as he walked away, then turned away again.  Another guy, a young college kid from the looks of it, was flipping through some drawings.

"You want anything?" Mabel asked.  "Danny's the McDonald's guy, but he's off playing the video games since no one's ordered.  I can go fetch him if you like."

"Jane McDermott," the trooper said, shaking Mabel's hand.  "I'm fine for now, thank you.  What's the latest weather report?"  Mabel laughed.

"It's supposed to be clear and about 45 tonight.  This crazy storm; I don't know where it's coming from.  How bad's it getting out there?"

Jane took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, sighing softly.  "Bad.  Patrol cruiser nearly got stuck three times in the last mile or so; snow's drifting up to three feet or more in places.  It's falling so thick you can't see more than a few yards ahead of you.  If I hadn't been using my spotlight, I probably wouldn't even have seen the exit sign here."

Mabel grimaced.  "Then it looks like we all will be here for a while yet."  Jane looked around and noticed that many of the other folks in the restaurant had been eavesdropping to this portion, and many of them openly showed their frustration and impatience at this point.  The man with the laptop turned to his coffee, keeping a surly eye on Jane.  She got up and approached the college kid, glancing at his papers.  It appeared to be artwork, if you could call it that, but it was strange and disturbing: mechanical and biological forms merged together into a kind of alien erotica.  She grimaced inwardly, but made a polite comment nonetheless.

"Thanks," mumbled the kid.  He put his art away and got up, following the businessman to the bathroom.  Jane sat by herself for a moment.

Suddenly the lights went completely out.  Curses and sighs of disgust rose from almost all the mouths in the restaurant, but then they abruptly went silent.  There was another sound -- glass shattering and a metallic shriek of pain and fear.  The wind howled inside the building, blowing napkins, knocking over empty coffee cups, tugging at all the inhabitants of the room.  There were screams of fear, and bangs and clatters as people fell over, dived under tables and scrambled to illusory safety.

Then a banging, ripping, rending sound.  Screams of pain and fear from the other side of the truck stop.  A long, drawn-out scream, like the torturing of some wild beast.

And as suddenly as it came, the wind stopped.  The uncaring snow, falling thick as a blanket in the air muffled and muted all sounds.  The truck stop had a pall over it like a tomb.


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## Desdichado (Nov 19, 2003)

"Exit 23"
II.​
Jane McDermott stood up after a second, flashing her Mag-Lite towards the doorway of the restaurant.  There was a glittering flash on the ground in the light; it looked like the glass door was completely blown out.  She looked behind her; Mabel was cowering under a table.

"Well, I suppose I should go investigate.  Anyone with me?"

The dark-haired man with the laptop let out a slightly high-pitched, nervous chuckle.  "Isn't that your job?  To serve and protect and all that?"

Another man stood up from his papers.  "I'm a doctor.  I better go with you to see if anyone got hurt."

The tall black man and the photographer looked at each other and nodded slightly, then stood up as well.  "We'll be a few steps behind  you."

Jane switched her Mag-Lite to her left hand and drew her pistol.  Sweeping her light in front of her to make sure she saw the entire scene before she came to it, she advanced one slow agonized step after another.  After a minute or so the other three men came behind her.

The entryway to the truck stop was a disaster.  Glass was strewn throughout the lobby, and far into the coffee shop beyond;  more than fifty feet, in a spray pattern originating at the doorway.  The metal frame of the doorway was twisted, broken and bent in hideous shapes.  Snow covered the floor, even though the opening had only existed for a few minutes, and the walls were lined with frost.  "What the heck could have caused this?" muttered Nichols, the photographer, to himself.  His camera went crazy; he snapped at least a dozen pictures of the entryway on the 35mm roll.  Akens, the tall black man, shivered and pulled his coat tighter about him, but started talking into his digital hand held recorder, describing what they saw.

Dr. Neary's face was whiter than normal, but in even, controlled tones he asked, "Shouldn't we move on, then?"  McDermott nodded, pulled her gun up and started inching her way through the passageway on the other side of the lobby.  The door to the men's room seemed to have been ripped to shreds like an old rag.  McDermott shined her Mag-Lite into the room, then turned away, repressing a shudder.  Nichols camera ran out of film.  "$#!+!" he cried, swapping to his digital camera, which clicked like mad.

Inside the bathroom the destruction was total.  Snow and frost was piled high around the walls, which were scratched and scarred and sprayed with blood.  The sink was broken off the wall, and lay in pieces on the floor, and the stall walls were knocked over.  Most of the ceiling tiles had collapsed as well, exposing the superstructure under the roof and littering the floor.  The college kid artist lay on the floor, impaled in many places with two-foot long icicles, and slashed open at the throat and chest as well.  Many of his wounds had black edges, as if the flesh had been abruptly and severely frostbitten.  Dr. Neary rushed forward to check out the young man.  "Stone dead," he pronounced after a relatively quick look.

Nichols camera stopped after a moment.  "That was some &@#*ing storm!"

McDermott nodded.  "What could have caused all these icicles to have blown in like this?  That was some freak wind alright."

Akens grimaced.  "Give me a break!  There weren't any icicles like this on the doorway.  No freak wind could have done this.  No, something else is going on."

McDermott pulled up right into his face.  "Clearly a tornado hit the truckstop.  The icicles could have been picked up from anywhere, and carried for miles.  This was a really freak occurance, but nothing else is going on than that."

"I can't believe this!" Akens said, throwing his hands in the air.  "You're so blind!  You only see what you want to s..."

He stopped mid-sentence, as did everyone else.  They had all heard a bump and a clatter from the room next door.  McDermott gave Akens a wry look and gently pushed past him, her gun raised again, and her Mag-Lite up and ready.  She stepped out of the bathroom and turned to her right.

There, in a small alcove were three our four video games, silent and dark now with the power out.  And crouched behind the last game was a young boy in a McDonald's uniform.  McDermott let down the light and relaxed visibly.  "Are you OK, son?" she asked coming up near him.

He didn't appear to be hurt, but was still in a state of panic.  His eyes were wide, and darted backwards and forwards.  A wet spot spread from his pants down his leg.  "What happened here?" the state trooper asked him.

"Is it gone yet?" he asked, his voice cracking and pitched unnaturally high.  "Sweet mother of God, please tell me it's gone!" 

McDermott turned to look at the doctor, who merely shrugged.  "Look, kid," she said, "what did you see?  What happened here?"

"You don't understand!" the boy said, sobbing, and grabbing her by the shoulders.  "You can't understand!  Please just tell me that thing isn't here anymore!"

McDermott shook him off.  "Listen up, kid," she said.  "I don't know what you're talking about but I need to hear what you saw and what happened here."

The frightened boy pushed past her, eluding her grasping hands and ran for the door.  "I can't stay here; this place is seriously %*&@ed up!"  He stumbed on the broken glass, cutting his hands, but scrambled quickly to his feet and ran out into the snow.  

"Hey!" McDermott shouted.  "Come back here, ya punk!"  But he had already clambered inside his battered Honda Civic and turned on the engine.  In minutes, he pulled out of the parking spot, leaving a markedly bare spot where the snow had not covered the lot.  "Darn kid probably won't even make it past the on-ramp in this weather," she mumbled to herself.  She walked back inside.  The doctor was standing there watching her.

"You handled that real well," he said caustically.  "A real model of diplomacy."

"Cut it!" came a cry from inside the men's room.  Dr. Akens voice.  "There's someone else in here, buried under the rubble."


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## shadowlight (Nov 19, 2003)

What will happen next?!!!


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## Desdichado (Nov 19, 2003)

Lots of nasty sharp claws and fire? 

For you specifically, three forays into negative hit points?


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## shadowlight (Nov 19, 2003)

I sense impending doom.


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## William Ronald (Nov 21, 2003)

Either that or something gets deep fried.


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## fenzer (Nov 22, 2003)

I love "Exit 23".  It's a lot of fun.

Nice write up Josh.  I like the details, the black edged cuts from frost bite and the torn up men's room,  Nicely done.

Reading this braught back some fun memories of my own.  Thanks and post soon.


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## Desdichado (Nov 24, 2003)

"Exit 23"
III.​
Jane and the doctor left poor Danny to his own devices and ran back inside the bathroom.  Dr. Akens had moved a little bit of the rubble, after hearing a moan, he said, and now a foot was exposed under the fallen ceiling tiles, attached to a leg that extended into the pile of debris.  He and the photographer had rapidly been trying to remove material from the pile to investigate.  The state trooper and Dr. Neary pitched in, and the pile quickly was spread to the side.  As they went through the material, it started to get red and bloodstained.  The four were a bit nervous about what they would find underneath it.  Another groan prompted them to redouble their efforts.

Soon they had uncovered the body of the balding man in a suit.  In icicle was impaled in his leg, and another in his side, and savage cuts across his body looked like bear mauling damage.  He was still groaning from time to time, though, and his breathing was shallow.  Dr. Neary made an attempt to clean him up somewhat and stop the bleeding.  His breathing eased a little, and he made a brief foray into semi-consciousness -- "so... cold..." he whispered, before passing out again.

Dr. Neary and Jane carefully put him on a bent, but more or less stable piece of the stall's metal wall and carried him out of the freezing bathroom and into the restaurant.  Mabel looked away with a green tinge to her face as the injured man was laid out on a table.  "Oh, my!" mumbled Don Truit, looking away from his laptop.  Will Wheeler's eyes went wide, but he still scowled at Jane, especially when she started barking orders.

"Stay here with him; I'm going to try and call for a paramedic or something," she said.  "Don't let anyone touch him or move him."

"Hello?" said Ned.  "I am a doctor, remember?  And how do you think anyone's going to get here through this storm?"  Jane mumbled, but rushed outside to her car.  Picking up the CB, she tried to call through.  She heard incoherent static-filled replies; she wasn't sure if anyone copied her message or not.  After a few minutes she gave up.

"You with the laptop," she said again, when she came back.  "I need a message sent out to the Emergency Response group here locally."  Don looked up and frowned, closing the laptop as Jane came around as if to see what was on it.

"Hold on a minute; a laptop 9-1-1 call?  Surely you can do better than that!"

Jane was losing her patience.  "No, I can't!  You're the link I've got to the outside world."

"Listen, cop," Don said, equally impatient.  "Stay away from my machine.  I make $105 an hour with this, and you can't afford that.  Find your own way to patch through."

Jane stood as if she'd been slapped.  She tried to sputter a response about good Samaritan laws (which Idaho doesn't have anyway) but really simply didn't know how to respond.

"Look," said Don, "I'll send a message for you, but stay away, alright?  I don't need anyone messing around with this."  He flipped up the screen again, the bluish light from his Windows Desktop lighting up his chiseled young face.

Just then they were all blinded by flashing lights.  A deafening cacaphony of horns blaring in all keys blasted in from the parking lot and the flashing of all the headlights in the lot turning off and on made their eyes water.  Then as suddenly and mysteriously as the flashing and honking started, it abruptly stopped.


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## fenzer (Nov 25, 2003)

cool.


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## William Ronald (Nov 25, 2003)

Joshua,

Good update.  However, the updated thread title should read "updated on 11/24).


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## Desdichado (Nov 25, 2003)

I'm in denial that it's really that late in the year...


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## ledded (Nov 25, 2003)

Niiiiiiice.  Jonrog1 did a dark*matter SH that started with the same adventure, and I really like your spin on it.  Very cool, I look forward to seeing it updated.


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## Desdichado (Nov 25, 2003)

Should be one more update before I disappear for the holiday.  With any luck, I'll have the whole thing done before Christmas.


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## William Ronald (Nov 26, 2003)

Joshua,

Looking forward to the updates.   Enjoy Thanksgiving.


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## Desdichado (Dec 1, 2003)

"Exit 23"
IV.​
Jane, Will and Ned stepped slowly outside, their parkas zipped up around them to ward of the chill.  Phillip and Doug stayed near the door, Doug with his camera ready.  Don was sending e-mail via his satellite uplink.  

Outside, it was still muffled and quiet, but harsh gusts of wind occasionally howled and whined.  There was no sign of anything that could have made the cars flash their headlights and honk like mad.  Aside from the still heavy snowfall, there was no sign of anything at all.  Jane lowered her Mag-Lite and stepped further outside, her eyes on a swirl of snow bourne by the wind in her direction.

Suddenly the swirl of snow coalesced into a shape; a humanoid shape roughly nine feet tall and covered with shaggy white fur.  A slavering, wolf-like head topped the creature, but it was exaggerated and demonic, with glowing eyes and elongated fangs.  In one shaggy paw, the creature held what looked like a sword made from ice.  With its other paw, which had bear-like claws several inches in length, it swung at Jane.  She flew through the air from the force of the blow and skidded across the frozen concrete fifteen feet away, blood arcing through the air matching the trajectory of her body.

Behind her was an explosion of activity; Doug's camera was clicking like mad, and Ned made a dash for his Volvo.  Will apparently had been packing heat under his parka, and now unloaded shots from a revolver into the strange creature.  Ignoring the bullets, the creature turned and swatted Ned, who flipped through the air to thud heavily on the windshield of his Volvo, cracking the glass.  He tumbled off the hood of the car to lie still in a snow drift.  The creature turned back toward the truck stop now, his attention on Will, who was reloading the cartridge of his gun.  It charged him, it's roar like the calving of glaciers, or the howling of the bitter winter storm winds.  Will screamed as the creature stabbed at him with its icey blade, but he was able to dodge most of the blow, suffering only cosmetic damage to his parka.

Jane meanwhile, struggled to shake the fog from the blow she had recieved.  She felt bitterly chilled; her hands shook and ice rimned her side where the creature had struck her, which at least had slowed the bleeding to a slow seep.  Through her haze, she had seen Will's bullets hit the creature to no effect, and on a hunch, she pulled the silver bullet from the chain around her neck and loaded it into her police issue revolver with trembling fingers.  As the thing attempted to savage Will, she rolled onto her stomach, aimed her pistol and shot the creature with the silver bullet.

It cried out, more in surprise than true pain or fear, but she at least had the thing's attention.  It turned towards her with a look of hate in it's eyes, but then seemed to explode into whirlwind of snow flakes and ice crystals and roar away into the darkness.  

Dr. Akens, Doug and Will ran outside to Jane and Dr. Neary.  Phillip and Doug helped Jane to her feet stiffly.  "We better get you inside and patch you up," said Doug, nodding toward the dark red patch on the concrete where she had lain.  She felt a bit faint, especially seeing how much blood she had spilled on the pavement.  Will called over as well; he had managed to revive Dr. Neary and was half carrying him, half dragging him back inside as well.  His head lolled from side to side, but he looked to be at least semi-conscious.

Inside, Will and Dr. Akens proved to be at least somewhat competent in first aid, although many times they firmly wished the real medical doctor wasn't the one in the worst shape at the moment.  Both of the victims of the strange creatures attack were unnaturally chilled to the bone.  

"Mabel!" Doug called out.  "Mabel, where are you?"  After a moment of searching, the attendent was found; a sobbing, quivering mound of flesh huddled in the back office of the truck stop.  Doug plundered a space heater from her room and left her there.  The heater, combined with the ministrations of the professor, gradually seemed to restore Jane and Ned.  Ned had a look at their bindings and tightened them up a bit.  In his briefcase, he had some other equipment; a shot he gave to himself and to Jane as well that perked them up somewhat.

Meanwhile, Will had raided the back of his pick-up.  Apparently he drove around with an M-16, a shotgun and several pistols.  He made sure everyone was armed.  Even Jane didn't have a comment about the small arsenal he carried around with him, but she was still a little woozy from her rough treatment at the claws of the furry beast to make much of a fuss anyway.

"Look," said Don at that moment, "while you guys were out shooting your guns and acting all macho, I found a few things that are ...interesting.  More like disturbing, really."  He spun his laptop around.  On the screen was a radar image from the NOAA website showing the precipitation in the area.  There was a perfectly circular green patch with it's center ...  "Right here,"  he said.  "We're right in the middle of this storm, and if natural storms come in perfectly circular shapes, then I'm a large woman named Mabel who works the graveyard in a truckstop in the middle of nowhere.  And then there's this..."

Don pulled out a briefcase and opened it up.  The briefcase was battered and dusty.  "This belonged to John Doe over here," he indicated the man found in the bathroom earlier in the evening.  "Apparently, this Mr. Riley, according to his business card, is an employee of the Hoffmann Institute, whoever they are.  And in his briefcase I found this."  He pulled up a small ball of glass or crystal.  It looked like one of those snow globes that you turn upside down and watch the "snow" fall, but as they looked closer at it, they all gasped.  Inside was a detailed model of the truck stop they were staying in, complete with the recent bloodstains from Jane's fall to the concrete, and tiny shattered glass on the ground near the entrance.  "I have to admit, I'm a little freaked out here,"  Don concluded.

Dr. Akens looked thoughtful.  "I think I might have an idea of what's going on here," he said.

"Better make it snappy, then," said Will.  "Looks like our new best friend is looking for more."  Outside, the snow and wind were starting to pick up again, and a familiar swirl of snow was starting to form near the entrance to the truckstop.  Will held up his shotgun and cocked it.


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## Desdichado (Dec 1, 2003)

(double post)

To atone for my double post sins, right here's a link to a picture I used for the game, of the Winter Demon mentioned above.


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## barsoomcore (Dec 3, 2003)

Dude. More.


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## Desdichado (Dec 4, 2003)

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> Dude. More.



Workin' on it!  Most of the fun is still to come.


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## fenzer (Dec 4, 2003)

I don't get tired of this little adventure.  This is the third time I have been through it, two story hours and my own game, and it only seems to get better.

It is a treat to see how it plays out differently every time.

Nicely done Josh.  This is a real treat.  Keep it coming.


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## ledded (Dec 4, 2003)

Oh.  Damn.  That's.  Good.

Excuse me sir, might I have another?


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## Desdichado (Dec 9, 2003)

"Exit 23"
V.​
Dr. Akens yelled to Will as he grimly advanced, pumping shotgun shells into the reforming body of the shaggy creature outside.  "You're weapons will be lucky to hurt it.  We need fire to drive the thing away!"  Drawing on his years of research into the paranormal, Phillip was pretty sure he knew what this creature was and how to destroy it.  

"Mabel!" he called.  The poor woman let out a moan.  "Where's your liquor?  Y'know, the real hard stuff?"  Mabel didn't answer.  In fact, she appeared to have fainted behind the counter.

"$#!+!" he exclaimed.  He vaulted over the counter, his eyes scanning the shelves for anything useful.  A small fridge was tucked under the cash register.  Inside...  "Bingo!  Absolut Molotov cocktails coming right up!"

Outside, Will and Don were keeping the creature somewhat at bay by pumping shotgun shells and rounds from the M-16 into it nearly continuously, but it seemed more amused and slightly irritated rather than seriously threatened by their weapons.  Phil ran up to the doorway and threw his hastily assembled Molotov cocktail at the creature.  It hit it in the forhead, and the bottle exploded into an alcoholic fireball.  The creature shrieked in pain and fear, then snarled in rage, charging at Phil and swatting him hard.  He flew through what was left of the glass entryway to skid to a halt at the counter to the coffee shop in the next room.

Meanwhile, Doug had heard Phil's declaration, and quickly filled a five gallon drum with grease from the frier at the MacDonalds.  He trundled out just at this moment, to see the creature -- still aflame on it's head and shoulders -- slam Phil away.  He heaved the grease at the creature, but it missed, throwing up a storm of hissing steam where it hit the snow.  Doug dropped to the ground in the steam, narrowly missing the stabbing ice-sword that would have eviscerated him where he stood.

Don dropped his M-16 and ran out into the fray.  He ducked into the gas attendant's shack and flipped the switch that turned on the pumps.  Grabbing one at random, he pulled the handle all the way and squirted it at the open flame on the creature's head.  The entire creature burst into flame, screaming and writhing.  Don's eyebrows singed and he was forced backwards by the heat of the blast.  He quickly shut it off when he saw the flame starting to arc towards him on the stream of gasoline.

"What the $!&%* are you doing?" Will shouted flabbergasted.  He slammed his hand against the glass holding the fire extinguisher near the pumps and pulled out the device, spraying the flames that were spreading like a ghost along the pavement towards the pumps.  Meanwhile Dr. Neary had picked up the M-16 recently dropped by Don and unloaded the rest of his clip into the creature.  It was now huddled against the floor, and with this latest attack, it suddenly burst into a cloud of ash, scattering in the wind.  All activity stopped and everyone stared silently at the spot where the creature had been.  The snow storm did not abate.

Quickly, they moved back inside, checking the NOAA weather map again.  No change was apparent.  Ned patched up Phillip who sat up drinking a very strong, black coffee.

"We're not out of the woods yet.  If I remember my paranormal research correctly, what we just faced was a Winter Demon -- and it's tied to that ball we found.  Unless we can destroy that, the demon will reform in a matter of hours -- or less -- and we'll have to start from scratch."

"No sooner said than done," smirked Will, cocking his shotgun one more time and holding the barrell right up against the snow globe.  He discharged the gun just as everyone was yelling at him to wait, and the ball flew away from the end of the gun to slam into the wall, gouging out a large chunk of brick and mortar and ricocheting into the counter where it came to rest, apparently completely unharmed.

"Hold on!" shouted Phil.  "If you go about this the wrong way, you could kill us all!"

"Sorry!" Will said, looking around sheepishly.

Suddenly they were all bathed with light again.  Headlights, to be specific.  They heard the rumbling of a revving diesel engine, which abruptly switched into high gear and the lights came hurtling towards them.  Someone was driving a full-sized rig right into the restaurant!


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## fenzer (Dec 10, 2003)

Okay Josh, the old semi-into-the-restaurant trick never occured to us when playing.  I love it.  It will be interesting to see how they get out of this one.


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## Trevalon Moonleirion (Dec 12, 2003)

fenzer said:
			
		

> Okay Josh, the old semi-into-the-restaurant trick never occured to us when playing.  I love it.  It will be interesting to see how they get out of this one.





Oh it certainly made for some real fun... 

And just wait until we get to my character's finest hour


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## William Ronald (Dec 16, 2003)

Trevalon,

I am looking forward to more.  The event was fun and full of surprises.

Fenzer, let's say that everyone at the table was a little shocked by the semi-trailer mistaking the restaurant for a drive -thru.


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## barsoomcore (Dec 16, 2003)

and then....


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## Trevalon Moonleirion (Dec 25, 2003)

But... but... we need to bump this!  It needs to be finished!  My character's shining moment of glory hasn't happened yet!


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## William Ronald (Dec 26, 2003)

Trevalon Moonleirion said:
			
		

> But... but... we need to bump this!  It needs to be finished!  My character's shining moment of glory hasn't happened yet!




Not to mention that we have to find out what takeout food that trucker really wanted.  

I have to say that some of the things people did during the game surprised me.  I generally like surprises.


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## Desdichado (Jan 28, 2004)

Sorry, folks!  I've been pretty swamped since the holidays, and this will take me a few hours to update, hence -- no updates recently.  I'm anticipating a return to more normal scheduling conflicts soon, which means I can squeeze out an update or two in the near future.


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## ledded (Mar 3, 2004)

Alright, that's about enough time off for you buddy.

You can't just start up a semi and hurl it at a diner full of PC's, then let it drop off.

Update, man, we need that update!


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## shadowlight (Mar 3, 2004)

ledded said:
			
		

> Alright, that's about enough time off for you buddy.
> 
> You can't just start up a semi and hurl it at a diner full of PC's, then let it drop off.
> 
> Update, man, we need that update!



 Here Here!


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## fenzer (Mar 3, 2004)

No kidding.  Where are you Joshua?  I almost forgot about this little gem.  Post soon my man.  We need some lovin'.


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## Desdichado (Mar 4, 2004)

I anticipated my schedule at work returning to normal so I could work on updates here and there between meetings and phone calls, but it still has not happened (maybe after March 12th?)  Anyway, I've also been thinking I need to squeeze an update out sometime soon myself, and today isn't too bad.  I'll see if I can't put one together today or tomorrow.


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## Desdichado (Jun 7, 2004)

"Exit 23"
VI.​
Glass, brick, snow and dust flew through the air as the rig slammed into the side of the restaurant, plowed through the wall and counter and finally ground to a halt against a pile of rubble that it had made against the far wall of the building.  The six customers all dived for cover, some with greater alacrity than others.  Dr. Neary went down under a pile of collapsing roof tiles.  Most of the rest of them fell heavily to the floor but were able to avoid any serious injury (poor Dr. Ned's Reflex save was real bad.  He went into negative hit points three times during the session!).

The driver's door opened and the man with the parka and the Detroit Tigers hat hopped out, a pump action shotgun in his hand.  Like a fool, he yelled before attacking, and was answered by a hail of bullets from the M-16, dropping him to the ground.  Will walked over and gave him a nudge with his foot.  "What an idiot!"  (really bad initiative roll, unfortunately.  Also, he really is kinda an idiot.  )

Dr. Neary was dragged back and and resuscitated.  The truck driver was tightly bound and every effort to bring him back around was made as well.  It was getting more difficult, but after half an hour or so, Dr. Neary stood up a bit shakily and ashen-faced made his way to the truck driver, helping him to come to some form of consciousness.

Jane, with a feverish glint in her eyes, turned to him.  "What the _hell_ is going on here?  Who are you and what do you want?"

The truck driver, tried to laugh at her, but fell back into coughing up blood when he tried.  "It doesn't matter who I am.  And soon it won't matter who you are either.  You'll all be dead!"

"Doesn't want to talk, does he?"  said Don Truitt with a dark scowl on his face.  He had popped the large sideways hood on the wrecked truck.  He reached in for a minute and then came forward towards the fallen truck driver.  In his hands were the red and black clamps to a pair of jumper cables.  He touched them together, getting a nice spark and ozone smell.  "Take his shirt off and see if his nipples like the feel of these.  That might loosen his tongue.  And if not, we can always go lower..."

Jane stood up exasperated.  "You can't do that.  I won't stand for it."

"Move aside!" said Will to the cop.  "There's no time to mess around with this *&@%er!  There may be other zealots out there, and I'm not gonna wait until I feel a bullet in my back to find out."  Jane hesitated.

The truck driver, reading the mood in the room turned a bit panicky, but he maintained his facade of bravery as best he could.  "Do your worst!" he said, a bit shrilly.  "We'll all soon be dead anyway!"  As if in answer to his words, a howling wind started up again outside, and the snow started to swirl and reform.

"Looks like our old friend is back," said Nichols in a high, cracking voice, backpedaling as fast as he could.  They could all hear a gleefull roaring sound now, and shining silver eyes were glowing at them from the snowy coalescence, which was starting to take on the appearance of a shaggy, enormous humanoid.

"It's the globe!" said Dr. Akens.  "We've got to destroy it, or he'll keep reforming!"  Will made as if to shoot it again.  "Don't!" shouted Akens.  "It won't work any better than it did before!"

"Well, what then?" said Will, panicked now himself.  

"I'm thinking!"

Will grabbed Akens by the shirt.  "You don't have time to think!"

Akens pulled away, moving suddenly.  He snatched up the globe and threw it into the MacDonald's frier, where it burst into sudden flame.  The winter demon, now fully formed, suddenly had a look of terror across its face, and it screamed in fear, before bursting into flame itself, and burning itself out into nothingness.

All six of the customers of the rest stop fell to the ground exhausted and frigid.  "Glad that's finally over," someone muttered.  The wind and snow had slowed tremendously since the destruction of the snow globe; stars were even starting to appear above them.  It looked like whomever had said that was right.

Then they all say up at once.  Outside they could hear the sound of approaching automobiles -- two long, black Lincoln Town Cars with government plates.  Men with sunglasses (yes, at night) and dark suits stepped out, with guns in their hands.

"Come out with your hands up and surrender the snow globe, or this isn't going to be pretty," called out one of them.  Dr. Akens looked at the frier, which was now engulfed in a roaring fire.  There was no sign of the snow globe anymore...


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## William Ronald (Jun 7, 2004)

Joshua,

Thanks for the update!!!  I hope you can finish the story soon.  I remember the shock at the table when the truck driver put a new spin on the phrase "drive-thru" restaurant.  It was a great game and a great table -- in part to a very good GM.

Also, any chance that you can make the next Chicago EN World Game Day?


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## Desdichado (Jun 7, 2004)

Thanks!  I'm actually to the point where two or three (at the most) more updates will actually _complete the Story Hour entirely!_ which is a very exciting proposition.  The delay (and I apologize folks) has been largely due to my incredibly hectic schedule at work in recent months.  I did, however, finally get reassigned to another job that I'm enjoying much more (and where my time isn't nearly as crunched) so now that I'm more or less acclimated to that new job, I typed up the update.  I make a lot of claims on when I'm going to update that I don't follow through on, but what they heck -- I'll do another.  I think I can get this Story Hour _complete_ within the week.

Then I've got several sessions of my actual regular campaign that I DM that I'm interested in creating a Story Hour for.  :\  Never a dull moment for someone addicted to writing this kind of stuff up...

EDIT:  Sorry, I don't have any plans to come to the next Chicago gameday.  Maybe in the fall.  More than about once a year is difficult, because it's far enough away that I really have to spend one night.  That seems like a lot for gaming.  Plus, we've successfully held our first Detroit Gameday, and there's hope that we can do another one again soon, making my "need" to come to Chicago a lot less acute.


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## William Ronald (Jun 8, 2004)

Joshua:

I understand about being busy.  My own work on a homebrew campaign has been slowed because of work and school.  Still it is good to see an update.

I understand about the distance factor.  If my car was in better shape, I would be tempted to drive to a Detroit Game Day.  Hope you can make it in the fall.


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## fenzer (Jun 8, 2004)

Josh!  thanks for the update!  Sorry for the busy schedule.  I'm just happy your out there writing up this good stuff.


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## Desdichado (Jun 8, 2004)

Thanks, fenz!  It's nice to be back and have the opportunity to have another go at this, frankly.


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## Dakkareth (Jun 8, 2004)

Ahh, Dark*Matter ... that's all the advertisement needed. Cool story hour


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## Desdichado (Jun 9, 2004)

Dakkareth said:
			
		

> Ahh, Dark*Matter ... that's all the advertisement needed. Cool story hour



I tend to agree.  Anything that says Dark•Matter immediately catches my attention.


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## Desdichado (Jun 9, 2004)

"Exit 23"
VI​
They all froze.  Will Wheeler was muttering under his breath, "They ain't takin' me without a fight," as he tightened his grip on the stock of his M-16.  Several assenting mumbles were heard.  Even Dr. Akens reached into his large duffel bag, where to everyone's suprise he pulled out a long _katana._  He shrugged his shoulders at the surprised looks he got.  

"Hey, everyone likes to collect something, right?"

Dr. Neary pulled himself up to look over the rubble at the black-clad apparitions in front of them.  "We don't have the snow globe," he shouted.  "It's gone for good."  The faces in front of him grew harder, and many hands reached into black suits, re-emerging with pistols.  

"Well, it was worth a try," he said.  Wheeler was the first to move.  With a shout he stood up and started shooting.  Doug Nichols, now holding the shotgun from earlier, was next.  One of the agents went down, while the rest hunkered for cover and started returning the fire. Wheeler took some shots and sank to his knees, but wasn't completely out yet.

Dr. Akens leapt forward with his sword, going through his moves as calmly and cleanly as if he were merely running through his forms in the _dojo._  One bloody agent body fell (nasty critical hit, as it turns out)and then another was hit as well.  With a repeated _blam_, Akens took several bullets to the chest, and was knocked violently backward to the concrete where he lay bleeding.  Dr. Neary didn't want to run out into the hail of gunfire to help him, but as a glazed look started coming over his eyes, he screwed up his courage and ran out to stop the flow of blood (Phil Akens was at -9 HP before finally being stabilized; as close a call as you can get).

With only two agents left standing, one of the cars made a desparate weaving motion to block off more gunfire, then it pulled away.  All of the agents, even those who had gone down, were missing, leaving only the black tire marks, bloodstains, and one bullet-ridden Lincoln Town Car as evidence that they had ever been here.  Dr. Neary looked up from his ministrations on the wounded.  His eyes suddenly went wide.

The flame in the frier that had consumed the snow globe had spread.  Most of the rubble of the convenience store was now aflame and spreading on the other side ...  towards the gas pumps.  "Everybody move it!" he shouted, dragging Akens towards his Volvo.  Get to your cars and get the hell outta here as fast as you can!"


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## Kiracat (Jun 13, 2004)

Mmmmmmmm . . . . Dark Matter . . . . 

Really nice take on Exit 23!  I take it from your comments, though, that this is not going to be a continuing campaign?  What a shame.  But thank you for sharing it with us!


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## fenzer (Jun 13, 2004)

Nothing like a little MIB.  

Are you concluded or will we get one or two more updates?

If we are done, thanks for another fun romp through Exit 23.  If not, I'll keep my eyes open for more updates.

Thanks Josh.


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## Desdichado (Jun 14, 2004)

No, this is a single one-shot game that was played at a gameday with players that I didn't actually know before, and who live too far away for me to ever play with again (at least on a regular basis.)  So unfortunately, once I'm done, I'm done.

The good news, if you want to call it that, is that I'm not actually quite done -- one (or at most two, if I wax lyrical and start using too much text) more update should do it, though.


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## William Ronald (Jun 14, 2004)

Joshua,

Thanks for another great update.  I think I can speak for the other players that we would enjoy gamign with you again.

One of the things that I most liked about the adventure was the high level of tension and uncertainty.  Plus, we had VERY determined PCs.


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## Desdichado (Jun 16, 2004)

"Exit 23"
VII.​
Those who were conscious, relatively uninjured and had their wits about them dragged those who weren't to the cars.  Dr. Neary pulled Dr. Akens to the Volvo, jumped inside and turned the key.  With a squeeling of tires, his Volvo, the black Lincoln and Wheeler's old Ford Bronco all slipped through the snowy ramp away from the gas station as quickly as they could.

Time seemed to stop as a fierce orange light suddenly blossomed in Neary's rearview mirror.  A roaring sound filled his ears, and a concussive blast slammed into the cars, which skidded wildly.  The Volvo crunched into a snow drift, spinning around so that his side window was facing the gas station.  He looked outside.

A giant fireball blossomed from the remains of the station.  Pieces of furniture, brick, wood, and metal rained into the snow, causing steaming craters to form all around them, but the cars were far enough away that they were unharmed.  "I wonder if Mabel got out..." he whispered softly to himself.

The others were all awake now, and got out of their cars, looking in awe at the remains of the gas station that was Exit 23.  The evening finally seemed to be over.  Weary and sore from the many injuries, the constant state of tension for the last few hours and just the plain lateness on their watches, they all dully helped Neary get his Volvo out the drift, itself a bigger job than they hoped, and turned to each other to say farewell.  That's when Nichols pointed to the sky, unable to speak.

The rest of them followed his finger, to see three bright lights darting towards them from the south, coming faster than they believed possible; faster than any helicopter or plane could hope to travel.  One of them came right overhead, and the stopped so abruptly that they could almost hear the laws of physics screaming in frustration at being so ignored.  A large pattern of lights loomed above them, and the could see beyond the lights a silvery, delta-shaped structure.  The lights suddenly blazed, bathing them in blinding white glow.  With yells of surprise and dismay, they climbed back inside their cars and sped away.  The glowing craft in the sky paced them, keeping directly above them, no more than fifty feet.

Truitt picked up the shotgun that was still sitting in the seat of the Bronco and leaned out of the window to take a shot at the craft.  He was so rattled that he missed it by a mile, blowing the mirror off the side of the door.  Wheeler still had enough presence to mind to cuss him out for that.  (Probably the first time I've seen a -3 on an attack roll.  It doesn't help dramatic tension when folks are getting -3's on their attack rolls and making everyone else laugh.)

The lights on the craft began to dance crazily, even though the craft stayed still.  Then they flared again, but a deep yellow this time.  Their vehicles all shut down completely and came to jerky stops.

Neary hunkered down, as if he could hide in his driver's seat.  Two other of the weaving craft come forward, and also shined their brilliant lights on the three stopped cars.  And the original craft landed, right there on the road.  And a ramp suddenly appeared from the side of it, and they could see something getting out.

It was a man.  A middle-aged man in a ...  "...military uniform?" said Dr. Akens, confused.  He turned to Dr. Neary next to him his face blank.  The man outside had a blue dress uniform on, and was heavily adorned.  He was not a low-ranking soldier.  The two got out of their cars, followed shortly by the other four.

"Gentlemen..." said the man in front of them.  "Colonel Crawford, USAF.  Pleased to make your acquintaince."  He was greated by some half-hearted but mostly confused hellos.

"I understand you've had quite an evening.  Most importantly, I understand you've helped keep an important artifact out of the hands of that meddling Hoffmann Institute.  My congratulations.  Now, if you'll come with me, I believe we need to talk.  News of this incident is strictly classified, of course, but I think we can reach an arrangement that will be very mutually satisfactory."

Colonel Crawford turned around and walked into the ship.  Nichols looked around, as if pondering making a break for it.  Lights now glared at him from the ground as well; he realized half a dozen Humvees, crawling with men in fatigues carrying M-16s surrounded their three cars.  With a nervous shrug to each other, they turned and walked inside the flying craft, not exactly eager to see what tonight's adventure had landed them into.


_*The End​*_


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## barsoomcore (Jun 16, 2004)

Yaaaaa-hooooo!

Wow, that was a good ride. Awesome stuff, JD.

Good Story Hours are like Oreos. There's nothing in the world you want quite so much after finishing one as ANOTHER. Mm...

Nice work, Joshua. Good adventure, very well told. Tons of fun. Thanks for sharing that with us.


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## fenzer (Jun 17, 2004)

Amen Josh.  That was a whole lot of fun.  I did not expect the ending, nice touch.  

Keep these stories coming.  Just becuase you've rapped this one up does not excuse you from starting another. 

Thanks for all the goodness.


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## Dakkareth (Jun 17, 2004)

Nice ending ... I can hear it: '...and they were never heard of again.'


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## (Psi)SeveredHead (Jun 18, 2004)

Post their stats, please!


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## Desdichado (Jun 18, 2004)

Sorry, I don't think I have the character sheets anymore.  All of them were done with standard array stat distribution, though, and were 3rd level d20 Modern characters advanced in a single basic class.  It was handy that the Dark•Matter book comes with six sample characters, and d20 Modern has six basic classes, though.  It wasn't hard to come with a way to map each of the basic characters to a basic class.


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## William Ronald (Jul 2, 2004)

Thanks, Josh, for a great game and a great story hour.  I have to admit that a LOT of what happened was a complete surprise.  Suffice it to say that the dramatic tension was high, even though there were some awkward moments.


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## Desdichado (Jul 2, 2004)

William Ronald said:
			
		

> Thanks, Josh, for a great game and a great story hour.  I have to admit that a LOT of what happened was a complete surprise.  Suffice it to say that the dramatic tension was high, even though there were some awkward moments.



I thought so; I was quite pleased with the way it turned out.  I'm not sure what you mean by awkward moments, unless you're referring to some of the intra-character tension, but even that, I think, helped build the atmosphere, especially early in the game.


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## William Ronald (Jul 2, 2004)

> *Joshua Dyal wrote:*
> I thought so; I was quite pleased with the way it turned out. I'm not sure what you mean by awkward moments, unless you're referring to some of the intra-character tension, but even that, I think, helped build the atmosphere, especially early in the game.




The inter-character tension was great,  I was referring to things such as some of the wierd die rolls.  Well, I now have a new take on the phrase "frive-thru restaurant."


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## Desdichado (Jul 26, 2004)

Yeah, every game has to have some really oddball dice rolls.  Trev's big critical hit with the katana was fun, his "moment of glory" so to speak, while blowing out the glass and the side mirror of the truck he was in while trying to hit a flying saucer because of the abysmal To Hit roll was another fun one.

It was kinda fun, actually, that nobody actually died, although several characters were in negative hit points, even several times in some cases.  There's nothing worse than killing off a character in a one shot game early and leaving the player to fiddle with his thumbs the rest of the game.


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## Desdichado (Aug 25, 2004)

For posterity's sake, I converted all my story entries into an rtf document, loaded it onto my website, and linked it to the Story Hour page on the front page of ENWorld.  Hey, that's a pretty neat feature!


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## Wystan (Oct 26, 2017)

Hobo said:


> "Exit 23"
> I.​
> Mabel looked up and shivered.  One more set of headlights was shining through the glass doors; one more car had made it through the night.  That, in and of itself, was pretty amazing.  In the middle of nowhere in Southern Idaho, twenty three miles north of the Utah border on I-15, weather was never pretty this time of year, but tonight's weather was just freakish.  (Actually, I looked at a map of Idaho and the mileage markers count down from the Utah border, not up, so "Exit 23" should really be "Exit 184" or some such number.  However, right about where exit 23 should be is not right in the middle of nowhere, it's right in the middle of Boise.  I'm not actually sure where "Exit 23" is supposed to be located, so I just took a guess and ran with it.)




https://www.google.com/maps/@42.323...4!1s1K6ISbigG57TA5VMMVDskA!2e0!7i13312!8i6656


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