Logs:Team Breadward

From NOLA: The Game that Care Forgot
Jump to: navigation, search


Team Breadward


Characters: Jeanie and Ramsey
Date: 2020-04-28
Summary: Jeanie and Ramsey head out for a night of drinking, dancing, and eating as much garlic bread as possible, but find something far more strange.
Disclaimers:

Mechashiva.png

Rednex - Cotton Eye Joe

Every so often some of them try to go to a place that sounds interesting, only for it to end in tragedy. This time it's dancing, drink specials and gumbo night (they serve several, including a veggie option!) at the Alligator Pines Lodge at the similarly named resort just outside town. This is gonna go well. The winner of the night's combination dance and garlic bread eating contest wins a live gator, the rumors say!

Who can resist the lure of garlic bread and possible gator ownership? Not Jeanie, that's for sure. Although hopefully said garlic bread eating comes after the dancing and not the other way around or there might also be a 'run to the trash can soonest' contest too! But that sounds like a future-Jeanie problem. Current Jeanie's standing in line to add her name to the growing list of potential gluttonous gator owners.

Ramsey rolls up into the parking lot, having changed into a clean pair of jeans and one of his nicer cowboy shirts. Getting up to the line, he spots Jeanie and waves from a couple of spots back. "I see at least someone has a sense of fun!"

"Fun, challenge, garlic bread! What's not to love?" Jeanie grins as she hears Ramsey. Seeing as he is only a few spots behind, she lets the few folks between ahead of her so they can at least wait together. "Any word from the rest? Or too busy digging mud pits and stuff?"

"I got a bunch of maybes and will-trys," he says, then looks around at the place. Who puts a resort in a swamp? Well. Probably these people. Nothing will go wrong. "You going for the gator tonight, sweep the categories?"

Jeanie gives a glance to the posterboard up front that shows a pictue of MAYBE the gator that could be said prize and gives a shrug. "Why not? Think Way will notice if I put it in the hot tub?" Hopefully no limbs will be lost in the process of this plan. "I don't actually remember hearing about this place before... someone new bought it or something?" Resorts in a probably flood prone swamp. Certainly a Great Idea.

"I'm not sure. I saw a flyer and it seemed too good to pass up." Moving up with the line shuffle, he looks at the signup. "Oh, we can sign up as a team. Cooperative. We'll need a team name. Like trivia I guess?" He looks back at the parking lot. There's a faint unease, but maybe it will all work out.

"One on a lamp post with the little fly away contact numbers?" Jeanie guesses as to the most trustworthy flyer source known to man. "Team work will make the dancing part easier. Too bad neither of us wore vests or we could be the In-Vest-I-Gators... I guess investi-gators could work too..." But somehow a double pun isn't as exciting as a triple pun. As Ramsey looks back to the parking lot, she gives a shrug. "If they don't show up, guess that's more garlic bread for us to eat."

A wince at the missed opportunities. "Hmmm.. Team Breadward?" Thinking back, he says "You know, I think it was. And by an old payphone. I am beginning to think maybe we sho-- Oh, our turn to sign up."

Alas. Maybe next time someone will pack a costume change, but not today. Seeing as it is now their turn to sign up and Jeanie's gotta put something down, she shrugs and goes with Team Breadward. "Who even uses payphones anymore? Creepy. But I mean, I think I can smell the garlic bread already." It definitely smells like garlic something.

"They seem very unsanitary. Phones in general. But, I mean, I guess it works out. We have our chance at glory, though. We'll make everyone proud." Flashing a grin, Ramsey adds his name on and then salutes the signup person, who looks kind of dodgy, and a bit untrustworthy.

"Yeah, they say your phone is like dirtier than a toilet seat. And that's a mobile phone. Imagine who all could be using a public phone and how rarely they might actually be cleaned?" Jeanie shudders although as she walks past the signup guy, she'll give a wave and a smile, as untrustworthy as he might be. "Right? May our names live in bread-famy. I think our table is over there..." At least the number she's been handed while signing up matches a number over on that little table.

Ramsey looks at the tables and then says "Ahh okay! Well. We've trained for this." he walks to the table and pulls out a seat, looking at the rules card. There are a lot of rules. He had assumed it was just 'eat a bunch of garlic bread then dance' but this is like, a triathalon. "Maybe we didn't train for this." He checks his phone to see if anyone else is coming.

Jeanie nods enthusiastically. "My diet might be like eighty percent bread at this point. All the training! We got this!" Because if there's anything Jeanie's good at, it's BELIEVING in people. That confidence may have been before she actually saw the rules card. "Wait... we got to eat gumbo while also dancing? How's that even work? Do they give the gumbo in a water bottle or something? Or one of those big fat boba tea straws?" Knowing their luck, probably still expected to use a spoon for the dance-gumbo-bread challenge.

Ramsey runs his finger further down the list, saying "Wait... What's the Grand Melee? What is.." He looks around and sees that the other contestants are entabled and the employees are starting to close the doors to the ballroom. "Do you ever... Think maybe we make the wrong choices sometimes?"

"Melee like..." Jeanie does a little shadow boxing to mime out fisticuffs. Her eyes widen as she notices those doors being closed and... does that one guy actually chain it? Where is a fire marshall when you really need him? "I mean... I almost got ate by a giant bug yesterday. My life choices haven't exactly been sound lately..."

The loudspeakers come on and a guy in a red coat and tails with a black tophat steps into the middle of the room. Off-brand jock jams start playing. "LAYDEEEEZZZZZ Aaaaaaand GENNLEMAAAAANS! Attend your stations! The bread is on the way! Twelve teams enter, one team leaves! With the first prize! Their own gator! NOooooooOOoOOOWWWW! TIME TO CHOW!" Mortal Kombat song breakdown! Baskets are flung onto tables by worried looking servers. It's confusing. It's time to WORK!

Okay, at least the MC has committed to the part complete with the ringleader coat and tophat. Jeanie can appreciate that, nodding until he gets all thunderdome. That and the locked doors have her second guessing as the garlic bread comes flinging on the table. "You don't... think they might have poisoned the bread and plan on stealing all our kidneys or something, right?" PARANOIA TO THE EXTREME.

"Don't get eaten by giant bugs please," Ramsey admonishes, then looks a little panicked as the idea of it being poisoned is brought up, but the contest is on... Gotta.. Gotta.. .Shovel garlic bread into his mouth! The chase is on! Can't fall behind! Gyaaaaaahhhh! Around the room different baskets seem to have different effects. Some seem to be drugged, people getting drowsy. Some people start freaking out. Some people don't. It's gonna make the next portion very interesting.

"I didn't! Hudson shot it! And I set it on fire!" Jeanie says as if that makes it all better. And since Ramsey's gonna start shovelling, she holds up one of the hunks of bread in a salute and starts chomping on down like she means business. Garlic Bread Eating, Gator Getting, Hopefully Keeping Her Kidneys Business.

The poison! It's starting to dull the senses as they power through the basket, doing better perhaps than some of the others. One table is entirely asleep, a couple have people fighting, one's trying to eat the literal basket. Some are just looking confused. As the bread basket 1 phase ends, the whistle is blown and the ringmaster shouts "Bread's done? Let's move on to gumbo and dancing!" Then out come some roombas, with small tables atop them, bringing up a bowl of gumbo to chest height with multiple spoons, and they... Start spinning. Oh god. Then the sound of Rednex's 90s rendition of Cotton Eyed Joe starts up and the horror is true.

Oh, the carb brain! It's setting in after piece four or five or is it six? Jeanie's lost track as she's been too busy eating the bread. She blinks in confusion as the FREAKING GUMBO ROOMBAS ARRIVE. "I uh... think I want the green one?" Green means veggies, right? Anyways, she'll try to boot scoot her way after that particular whirling soup machine.

Sometimes even though you probably COULD kool-aid man your way out, your brain traps you into complying with the challenge. The only way they're getting out of here is by their wits, their ability to eat awkwardly, and their skills at dancing. Ramsey sees a chance though, grabbing the straws from their drinks at the table and holding one out to Jeanie, and going to the opposite side, using the gumbo bowl like a glass and leaning, starting to do a very "the twist" ish move. People are falling left and right, gumbo spraying around the room. What is even happening?

Seeing she's now been handed a Straw of Slurping Victory, Jeanie charges for her self-designated bowl. The line dancing can only last so long as the whole slurping makes it awkward. Somehow she manages to figure out something between a can-can and a disco move that might not be the most graceful of manuevers but it still technically counts as dancing and more importantly she does manage to down a surprisingly decent amount of gumbo without getting a drop on either herself or the floor. Now that's a serious talent! "Ahahaha! We're gonna win that gator and call him chompers! Nah... nah... nah... nah... Staying Alive!" That's not even the right song that's playing but whatever... she's got her own soundtrack now.

Ramsey does not time his dancing right and just gets gumbo everywhere, being forced to go to alternate means. That's when the screams start. A doggie door opens up and small alligators pour forth, scurrying forward onto the dance floor, snapping at people. "Aww shit. It's.." Then the air horn sounds and the voice "That's right! The melee! Defend yourselves!"

Defend? What the heck. Jeanie sees those little alligators coming out and her head is shaking nope. She's just going to grab what's left of her gumbo bowl and flee back to the table and stand on top of it, straw abandoned for sopping the stew up with leftover garlic bread. If she keeps waving her arms as doing so, that counts as dancing still right? As for the snapping gators, she actually awws. "At least they're not the big ones..."

People are getting mobbed under though cause some are drugged unconscious, and some are straight trippin' balls. There are yowls happening. And as some people are bitten they begin to... Maybe change? Oh no! This is how the gatorpeople are made! They have to get out of there! Ramsey runs toward the table, shouting "Mecha-Shiva! Mecha-Shiva!"

Jeanie might have been drinking a little before the competetion had started, but definitely not enough to explain what her eyes are seeing as people are yowling. As Ramsey runs over yelling and gesturing, she'll hop on to his back although not without taking a basket full of bread which she can then use to try and toss at the new-formed gator people. Or maybe just as distractions? Anyways... "Breads Away!"

"Later, shitlords!" the Werewolf chirps as they take off, his feet stuttering and dodging little alligators. You probably can't be a werewolf and a gatorman at the same time, but there's no use in trying to find out. There are figures rising up to block their way. Quick-Time-Event! Jeanie, throw drugged garlic bread into their giant maws to neutralize!

Jeanie throws some garlic bread and while it might not be super-effective, it's kind of like horse-shoes or hand grenades where close can be good enough. Plus... there's those poor unfortunate souls that can't seem to get off the floor that seem like much more tempting target than MAster-Blaster pair currently fleeing Gator-Dome.

Ramsey makes a charge for the chained up doors, getting some speed, a couple of gatorites chomping down onto the compromised bread and falling asleep almost instantly, though some give chase, leaving a few of the potential victims time to escape. Ramsey hits the double doors, metal reinforced and chained as they are and just keeps going, the hinges giving way in a ridiculous display of his kool-aid man powers even without the use of gifts or shapeshifting. They fall beneath his feet and they run toward the parking lot, the sound of snapping and yarring and one 'Ah gahrontee!' yowled behind them, not looking back.

And this is why The Fixers can't have Good Things. It's just gators all the way down.