Mechanics:
Combat Move:
Winston: Conditional Orders - Bite, If Paras uses a status move, Evade.
Trainer: Conditional Move: If Bite Connects and Paras drops to half or less health, Pokeball.
Initiative: D6+3
Dice + 3 Dex + 0 Survival
Order: Bite
Accuracy: Pool 6
3 Dex + 3 Fight + 0 Brawl
Damage: Pool 4 - Def, Flinch *3*
2 Str + 2
Flinch *3*
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YOU'RE GETTING SLOW. He feels the vehicle approaching though he cannot see it. It's there, hurtling towards him, at once impossibly fast, yet terrifyingly stationary. An impossible mental model.
There is a man watching, cold eyes filled with disgust, his face an condescending sneer. It is him, elevated to Olympian stature, the possibility denied, the future abandoned, the impossible dream. Apotheosis denied. He folds his arms across his chest, adjusting the collar of his perfectly fitted police uniform.
SOFT.
He has seen him in a hundred dreams since the day, a dislodged piece of coalesced pride shattered loose from the wreck that defines him, a fragment of past glory impossibly trapped, sometimes abusive, sometimes angry, always a reminder of what he had lost.
I'VE COME TO TALK. He is running now, sprinting towards him, and moving with a grace and speed he knew he would never see again. BUT NOT NOW. NOW, YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER TO DO.
It is as much an admonition as a request. Then he slams into him, shouldering him aside, as he perversely dissolves into a riot of colour and incongruously, the cacophonous spine shaking sound of screeching metal as the vehicle races on by.
Vincent blinks. He grasps terrified at the trailing flashes of synapses, scrabbling at once to hold onto the fleeting images that hastily fled into the deepest recesses of his waking mind. Winston limps backwards, whining from a scratch he didn't see him receive, looking to him for guidance.
"As much a warning as I'll get. Lost the plot there for a moment little guy. Sorry about that."
Winston shoots him a concerned look tinged with a slight accusation.
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm not the one doing the heavy lifting. Let's give this a do over. Winston. Bite and I'll back you up. This time for real."
Combat Move:
Winston: Conditional Orders - Bite, If Paras uses a status move, Evade.
Trainer: Conditional Move: If Bite Connects and Paras drops to half or less health, Pokeball.
Initiative: D6+3
Dice + 3 Dex + 0 Survival
Order: Bite
Accuracy: Pool 6
3 Dex + 3 Fight + 0 Brawl
Damage: Pool 4 - Def, Flinch *3*
2 Str + 2
Flinch *3*
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
YOU'RE GETTING SLOW. He feels the vehicle approaching though he cannot see it. It's there, hurtling towards him, at once impossibly fast, yet terrifyingly stationary. An impossible mental model.
There is a man watching, cold eyes filled with disgust, his face an condescending sneer. It is him, elevated to Olympian stature, the possibility denied, the future abandoned, the impossible dream. Apotheosis denied. He folds his arms across his chest, adjusting the collar of his perfectly fitted police uniform.
SOFT.
He has seen him in a hundred dreams since the day, a dislodged piece of coalesced pride shattered loose from the wreck that defines him, a fragment of past glory impossibly trapped, sometimes abusive, sometimes angry, always a reminder of what he had lost.
I'VE COME TO TALK. He is running now, sprinting towards him, and moving with a grace and speed he knew he would never see again. BUT NOT NOW. NOW, YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER TO DO.
It is as much an admonition as a request. Then he slams into him, shouldering him aside, as he perversely dissolves into a riot of colour and incongruously, the cacophonous spine shaking sound of screeching metal as the vehicle races on by.
Vincent blinks. He grasps terrified at the trailing flashes of synapses, scrabbling at once to hold onto the fleeting images that hastily fled into the deepest recesses of his waking mind. Winston limps backwards, whining from a scratch he didn't see him receive, looking to him for guidance.
"As much a warning as I'll get. Lost the plot there for a moment little guy. Sorry about that."
Winston shoots him a concerned look tinged with a slight accusation.
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm not the one doing the heavy lifting. Let's give this a do over. Winston. Bite and I'll back you up. This time for real."
