Rolled 413 (1d1000)

>>37726980
DRILL, DRILL, DRILL, DRILL, DRILL, DRILL, DRILL!

Rolled 1, 7, 4, 4, 9, 5, 10, 10, 6, 5, 6, 5, 9, 1, 3, 5, 4, 10, 1, 2, 10, 1, 8, 9, 8 = 143 (25d10)

>>37726980
>DRRRIIIIIIIILLLLLLLL!

Rolled 12, 3 = 15 (2d20)

>>37726980
>Give it the drill.

>>37727424
>>37727352
>>37727304
>2 unique posters
Come on man.
>>37726980
>Bail

File: Killbot.jpg (64 KB, 390x311)

64 KB JPG

>>37727304
>>37727352
>>37727424
You quickly bring up your killbot's drill arm to shield yourself from the incoming bird!

>413/1000, 143/250, 15/40 averaged is 0.45333333...
The downed helicopter crashes against your whirring drill, tearing apart much like that guerilla as scrap and shrapnel is violently flung this way and that! As your drilling continues, you hit the helicopter's engines, causing a great big explosion to engulf your drill!

It seems that the drill is alright, but you can't turn it off. Blargh, that thing takes up so much gas! You'll have to kidnap a Sheikh's son after this or something.

With the helicopter gone, your view of the sky is clear, and you see Ape-King Bhumal grinning at you before he takes a bit out of a banana, descending towards the jungle in his parachute. You angrily order your gunner to shoot him down. When you don't hear a RATATAATAT! in response, you look up to see that your gunner's top half of body was shredded off by shrapnel and helicopter blades. Woops!

>Pursue Bhumal!
>Retreat!
>Write-in

>>37728746
>Retreat
This is a fight we never should have gotten into to begin with.

>>37728746
>Pursue Bhumal!
We just have to take him out, then all of Angola will be ours!

>>37728805
>>37728851
I'm gonna flip a coin in about a minute.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>37729097
1 = Retreat
2 = Pursue Bhumal!

>>37729275
You do not pursue Lu Bhu!

>>37729275
woops

>>37729288
too bad
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=im639Jlk1qk

>>37728851
You bark at the driver over the grapevine to go faster. Yes, towards the enemy! Hearing the engine rev all the way up to eleventy, you give a smug grin as you get closer and closer to the Ape-King.

The vermin in front of you flee and scurry out of the way of your roving engine of doom. However, Bhumal gives out a deep, booming laugh as you continue towards him. A moment later, you see why. Those chimps have dug a trench!

"Driver! There's a trench up ahead! Hit the brakes!"

No response.

"Hit the brakes, and I'll only feast on your immediate family's brains!"

Static silence.

"Hit the brakes! HIT THE BRA-"

Your killbot hits the trench, at the speed it's going, it flips forward! You cling to your throne and joystick as you fly through the air. When your vehicle hits the ground, all the screws and nails and gears come falling out, and your once-proud killbot is no more than a pile of junk. However, the drill's still working! You also see the bottom hatch has been opened. Those fuckers bailed on you! 1 million years chariot wheel, no trial.

You move the joystick to where the drill arm slices itself behind the second joint, and pick up your new spear. Turning towards your enemies, you see Bhumal pointing a rocket launcher at you, as well as the fact that you are surrounded by men with guns.

>Fight the grunts!
>Charge Bhumal!
>Write-in

>>37730667
oh yeah
>Fight the grunts! (Roll 2d20, Best of three for the first, worst of three for the second)
>Charge Bhumal! (Roll 2d20, Average of three)

Rolled 6, 16 = 22 (2d20)

>>37730777
>Charge Bhumal
If we're going to do this, we may as well go all out.

Rolled 15, 4 = 19 (2d20)

>>37730777
With trips like that, I'm liking our chances!
>CHARGE BHUMAL!

Rolled 19, 9 = 28 (2d20)

>>37730777
>Charge Bhumal!
Please be double 20s!

>>37730832
>>37730965
>>37731110
>13, 10
You ignore the rabble, instead heading directly towards their leader! Several bullets impact against you and bury themselves in your green muscles, but your crystallized skeleton protects your organs from danger.

You make it up to the Monkey Monarch, splattering any within reach of your lance to giblets and viscera. He wastes no time in firing a rocket at you, hitting your arm, or rather, what used to be your arm, but is now a mangled gathering of shredded and bleeding tentacles. You drop the Drill.

>Rip out the Monkey King's heart with your other hand! (Roll 2d20 Best of Three, Worst of Three)
>Well, you're surrounded, so retreat downways.
>Retreat back through to your forces! (Roll 1d100, Worst of Three)
>Write-in

>>37731919
>Rip out the Monkey King's heart with your other hand! (Roll 2d20 Best of Three, Worst of Three)
Here goes nothing!

Rolled 1, 5 = 6 (2d20)

>>37732239
Literally, it seems. Oops!

>>37731919
Rolling.

Rolled 18, 14 = 32 (2d20)

>>37731919
>Rip out the Monkey King's heart with your other hand! (Roll 2d20 Best of Three, Worst of Three)

Rolled 4, 7 = 11 (2d20)

>>37731919
RIP IT OUT!

>>37732265
>>37732371
>>37732832
When Bhumal goes to load another shell in his big gun, you use this opportunity to strike at your nemesis!

>18
You tentacle pierces through his chest and wraps around his boiling hot organ in the time it takes him to blink. You pull back, and rip the still-beating heart out of his now-gushing chest.

The king grimaces, and angles his head back.

"UUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHOHOHOHOHHHHHHHH!" he roars. The howl of primal fury seems to quiet the battlefield.

You grin as you sink your shiny teeth into his heart, and bite off a piece. As far as meat goes, it's pretty hearty. Ha! You truly are the best at puns. Everyone at the palace says so.

The Ape-King looks up at you in stupefaction as you devour the rest of his heart. He futilely attempts to shoot his rocket launcher at you, which you swat aside.

You place your non-mangled hand on his forehead, you say to the defeated king, "Any last words?"

To which he replies, "Obter dobrado, Frenchie."

You are then kicked hard in the side by an unseen attacker, and sent flying towards a tree.

OOH! AH! TREE!

Rubbing the big buboe you just got on your head, you get up to see which monkey dies next. The one who kicked you. He dies next.

A young man stands before the dying Bhumal, dropping the bag he was carrying. When the bag hits the ground, a bunch of your officers' heads come rolling out. The man then falls on his knees, and wails as he inspects Bhumal's wound. The king wipes some blood up from his weeping chest with a thumb, and smears it on the man's cheeks, chin, and forehead. Soon enough, the young man has a war god's face, and is no longer crying tears.The young war god clutches Bhumal's hand tightly before letting go, and gets up to face you.

"Monster! I am Abidemi, Crown Prince of Angola! Your head will be mine!"

He raises up Bhumal's rocket launcher, and draws a wicked-looking sword from a shining scabbard.

>Cont.

>>37735037
You are wounded, and it will still take some time to regenerate your arm. Your drill is still lying by the ape-king.

>What do?

>Apologize and beg for mercy.
>Attempt to retreat back to your forces.
>Go for the drill!
>See if you can kill the Crown Prince as easily as you did the King.
>Write-in

>>37735088
>See if you can kill the Crown Prince as easily as you did the King.

>>37735088
>See if you can kill the Crown Prince as easily as you did the King.

>>37735102
>>37735120
'kay. Roll 1d20 three times.

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>37735535

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>37735535

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>37735535

>>37735643
You lunge towards the uppity royal, tentacles shooting towards him!

>8
The prince sheathes his dark sword into the blindingly bright scabbard, turning away from you. You let out a laugh, which turns into a questioning grunt when your tentacles fall to pieces. You retract your arm back, cleanly separating it from the diced flesh. You fall to the ground on your chest, and painfully come skidding to a halt in front of the prince.

You look up only to see him walking away from you some more, carrying that rocket launcher.

>That drill! Use it to escape!
>Run after him!
>Admit defeat.
>Write-in

>>37735998
>That drill! Use it to escape!

>>37736057
Before he does anything funny with that rocket launcher, you scurry over to the still-whirring drill, and pick it up with your wide maw and crystalline teeth. You heft it up into the air, and kick yourself off the ground! The gigantic drill arcs through the air, and pierces through the ground, taking you with it as it tunnels into the Earth!

------------

You are ABIDEMI, CROWN PRINCE OF ANGOLA, APE-KING BHUMAL'S HEIR.

You have just bested the Congo warlord in combat. Though the green devil has burrowed into the ground like the rat he is, you let him go for now, choosing to focus on the bigger picture instead. The Congo has lost much from this battle, and you intend to ride this momentum into carrying on your uncle's... no, your father's legacy. You will unify the continent, and serve the people to the best of your ability!

----------

Ayanda "Killbot" Olifate, the ruthless half-dwarven, half-Venusian and half-negro former warlord of the Congo, hangs on for dear life to his drill as it carries him down and down into the Earth. This seemed like a good idea to him before he went and did it, but he soon realized that he couldn't change direction or get any leverage on this contraption. You could say he dug his own grave.


Anyone else feel like QMing?

>>37737135
Sorry man, I was planning to head to bed an hour ago. Suffice to say I'm not currently awake enough to QM

>>37737232
It's okay. Go ahead and take a nap. A dirt nap.

I'm gonna bump this thread until then while seeing if this "Miami Vice" show is any good.

>>37737323
Oh yeah, here's the Twitter:
https://twitter.com/KabbalahQ

I'll make a post when the next run is starting.

>>37737135
In just a few days, you have taken much of the Congo's south. What soldiers you have come across have surrendered first thing, and the people in the villages you have taken welcome you as a liberator rather than a conqueror, so you act as such. Your forces start giving out what food you can spare to hungry, but mostly taking it from the greedy village leaders to give out. When you reach the capital, Kinshasa, the civilians and soldiers both hold a welcoming parade in your honor. Some of your soldiers break formation to go kiss pretty women before being hit over the head and pulled back in line with sheepish grins.

You reflect on how you have not found yourself a woman yet. Probably due to having devoted yourself to the martial arts, learning diplomacy, and hunting beasts for most of your developing years. There are several women who have caught your attention, of course, but few of them would have made a fitting match for a Crown Prince, and none of them would make a fitting match for a King.

As you continue onward through the city, you notice that it's full of poor people and looted buildings. The palace, however, is tall and shining with brilliant windows and shining towers. It's truly extravagant.

When you arrive at the palace, you see a mob gathered in front of a heavily armored wall of palace guards, who are deflecting thrown stones and glass bottles with their riot shields.

When a rioter gets out a molotov cocktail and a guard raises a pistol, you shout out, "ENOUGH!"

The crowd and troops both turn to look at you, and you take their silence as an opportunity to ask, "What is going on here?"

A rioter steps forward to tell you that the palace guards are still keeping several members of the crowd from getting their loved ones out of the palace's dungeons, to which a guard replies that the mob just wants to loot the palace and kill the warlord's family.

>What do?

>>37740485
>Tell them you'll fetch the loved ones yourself
>Appropriate warlord's family whilst you're at it

>>37740531
"Fear not, good people! I will personally see to it that your imprisoned loved ones are released. However, no violence shall come to the warlord's kin. They will be in my custody."

The crowd and guards both have some qualms about this declaration, but seem pacified.

"Now let me through!"

The mob and guards both part to allow you to ride through on your elephant, which you jump off of as some palace guards open up the gate for you.

Entering into the main hall, you see a pink-skinned alien with blue, poofy hair dressed in white, silk robes waiting for you with her hands clasped together. At her sides are two guards with machine guns.

"Greetings, noble invader!" she chirps as she rubs her hands together. "Are you here to collect the hostages? I can lead you to them, if you wish."

>Anything you want to ask, or go ahead and release the political prisoners?

>>37742471
You stare at the alien girl for a good five minutes as she uncomfortably glances at you several times and blushes purple, all the while wringing her hands together. "Uh, well, you- I, I can lead y-you to the hostages now?"

The alien lady eagerly leads you over to the dungeons, presumably because she'll feel less smothered down there. She anxiously looks over her shoulder at you as she leads you through the bright castle hallways, unsure of your measure. When you arrive at the dungeon door, she calls out for a servant, and a great big platter of fine breads and wedges of cheese is wheeled over on a cart. With surprising strength, the pink girl picks up the platter and walks down into the dungeons along with her armed escorts.

As you wait outside, you hear a ruckus start downstairs as the cells are unlocked, as well as, "You think fuckin' cheese and bread makes up for what your father did, you cunt!?"s and "Go shove these up both holes, bitch," and "Ha, as if I'd take your charity-" and then stomach growls.

Several grubby looking people and children exit out of the dungeon gnawing viciously on cheeses and breads. "Bitch's father cut off my aunt's and uncle's heads for their wealth," you hear one of them mutter before taking a grudging bite out of his food.

When it appears that the last person has walked out of the prison, you look down to see the princess carrying two machine guns up the stairs.
"Your Highness, may we please have our guns back?" one of the bodyguards asks.

"No! You were about to shoot someone!" she replies agitatedly.

"They hit me in the head with a brick, though!" says the other bodyguard as he holds up his damaged helmet.

----------

The princess sits at the head of a fancy table, sipping sweet, sweet, bottled water, straight from the Ozarkas. She asks you, "So, in light of our father's crimes, what is my sentence?"

>Death
>Double Death
>Triple Dog Death
>Write-in