Nameless, Tennessee
Zeke's Cabin


A man decked out in hunting gear sits inside a small, ramshackle cabin somewhere deep in the Tennessee backwoods. He sharpens a large knife against a makeshift whetstone by the light of a crude fireplace. Something bubbles on the fire in a scorched, blackened pot. It might be a stew, or it could be something else. Some rays of moonlight filter into the alleged building through a hole in the roof the man hasn't bothered to repair yet.

Otherwise, the only other light is the torch he holds with his other hand.

The man hums as he works, a small smile on his face as he watches the knife turn sharper, and sharper, and sharper.

The sound of metal on stone is accompanied by the wind whistling through the holes in the walls, and the man's humming.



...and the muffled sounds of screaming.

Zeke smirks as he stops his task and walks over to the opposite wall, torch in hand. He holds it close to his captive's face as he pulls the gag away.

"LET ME GO YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!!!"

The captive cowers beneath you and only takes a few seconds to think about it before shouting, "ALRIGHT... ALRIGHT!!"

He tries to stop himself from hyperventilating.

"I'll... I'll talk but I don't know what the fuck you want with me man! I ain't done shit to you! I'll answer whatever you want but I don't know nothin'!"

The 'villian' growls, though he's obviously still terrified.

"The name is Villain. Vil-LANE. And what the fuck? I have no fucking clue where Amber is. She went out to meet some guy and never turned up the next night. Figured some shit went down or she ran off with him or something. Wherever she went, I ain't got a clue."

He's trying to keep his own anger down. It helps that he's terrified, but it's still a struggle when he's been kidnapped by some lunatic out in the woods.

"Yeah I'm sure you two were gonna be a real fricken happy couple. You sure she didn't just bail on you? Amber's always been a runner. Hell, I always expected her to vanish. She's far from the first girl of mine to do that."

"I AM THINKING! I'm thinking, I'm thinking, alright? I don't want to piss you off but I DON'T. KNOW. SHIT."

He sighs and it comes out shaky and rough.

"OKAY! Okay listen. I... I genuinely, don't know shit about this." He quickly adds a "BUT! Okay, so, maybe you can try to... to hunt her down or somethin', wherever she left to. You can chase her, find, kill her for all I care, whatever! Cuz that's the only lead I got for you, is where she mighta ran off to. You promise to let me go and I'll... I'll do it. I'll tell you everything I know about her and where she mighta went."

He'll... he'll take it.

"Okay, man, listen. Here's what I know about Amber. Her real name is... uh... well she actually didn't change her name when she got into the game. It's Amber Matthews. She ran away from her boring upper middle class life in friggen Oregon. Guess she got tired of the high life and decided she wanted to spend her time with fucking low lifes like us. No offense."

"But I've seen that shit before. Girl runs off, stays a while, regrets it, heads off back home, and pretends none of this ever happened. Usually some line about goin abroad and volunteerin' or something. Building houses instead of wreckin homes."

He looks around, remembering that this line of theories isn't exactly your favorite.

"She's got some sister there. Big sister, kinda lived in her shadow or somethin'? Maybe she knows more. Or maybe she's your type! I don't fuckin know... but she's bound to know more than I do."

Fuck. He doesn't spend a lot of time talking to his girls about this shit. Or... ha, at least he doesn't spend a lot of time listening. Once he had Amber figured out, that was it. He didn't need to know more.

"Fuck man, it was... it was... Emma? No, no I remember! Emily! It was Emily. Emily Matthews, of Oregon. Portland, I think or some shit. High class city folk."

Manipulate Someone
Once you have given them a reason, tell them what you want them to do and roll +Charm.
For a normal person:
• On a 10+, then they’ll do it for the reason you gave them. If you asked too much, they’ll tell you the minimum it would take for them to do it (or if there’s no way they’d do it).
• On a 7-9, they’ll do it, but only if you do something for them right now to show that you mean it. If you asked too much, they’ll tell you what, if anything, it would take for them to do it.

"Man you want me to go to fuckin'... fuckin' Oregon? With you? That's a day's fucking trip at least! W-- I..."

He's trying to process this. It's an absolutely fucking insane request. But... you're absolutely fucking insane. And you have a knife. And he really enjoys being alive. So... maybe the fucking insane thing would be to turn you down.

"Okay. Okay man. Okay, but... I need to... to at least call someone. I got a business to run. I'm a manager. Of whores. I gotta call in and make sure things don't go to shit. And... I won't mention the knife or you at all but you gotta let me call in. And then I'll go with you. DEAL?"

He glances at the moonshine and at you. "You serious? You're gonna dr... nah whatever. At least it ain't murdered in a shack."

He breathes deeply. "Alright man, that... that sounds fair."

This is fucking nuts.

"Let's head on out to Oregon, then."

Toddy locks up as soon as you put your arm around him. This is definitely the worst day of his life, and very likely the last.

You drag him out to the pickup behind your shack and leave his hands bound as you run back inside to get your stuff. You gotta bring some stew for the road! You pack your other gear as well, and by the time you get back, Toddy is... right where you left him. Surprisingly.

It's time to hit the road, and with one more gulp of moonshine, you fire up the truck.

[...]

Makadewa, Maine
Outside Robinson's Dry-Clean and Laundromat


Toddy Villain leans against the building trying to look casual while he peers inside the building before turning to his captor travel partner.

"Y-you sure you saw the lady go in there? Cuz I ain't seein her." He adds under his breath "maybe cool it on the fuckin booze and you wouldn't be wastin all our time"

Toddy just barely manages to avoid screaming. Fucking hates that song. Fucking hates this guy. Fucking hates this shitty ass pickup and this shitty ass town. Toddy hates everything.

He leans against the building into almost a fetal position, trying to cover his ears without pissing off "the boss."

He stays like that for a bit but then he notices something is off. Wait, did the door just open up? He shoulda heard the little bell, right?

Wait!

He watches closely from his spot and then runs over to the pickup and knocks on the windsheild to get your attention.

"YO! Z! The fuckin sister just walked out and went down the road a ways while you were listening to Nelson again! She got into an RV! Let's go!"