Savage Indiana Jones

A Real Mess of a Fight

My feet grinded to a halt. It wasn’t that I was afraid of the flames, I was just a bit concerned for my hair. Despite being sopping wet, who know’s what could happen. The shaking of the sharks below wasn’t helping much. Then I saw Chuck soaring on a rope across the water, followed by some newcomers that I assumed were on our side. So I dashed through the flames, praying that the wood doesn’t collapse beneath me sending me into the maws of the carnivores below. As I dashed through chuck shouted out me, “The slow fish is the cooked fish.”

I kept running past a group that had been beaten down. I fire again with my derringer into to fray still aways. This time I wasn’t so luck, and somehow the bullet ended up in a barrel besides me. Chuck was busy kung-fu-fighting, Armitage was nowhere to be seen, and our mercenary friend was pulling some room hopping run and gun manuevers.

I cart-wheeled sideways picking up a colt left beneath me. Taking careful aim I fired at the the martial artist fighting attacking Chuck. I really didn’t mean to hit him between the legs. No, really. I don’t have the finesse for such an attack.

I’ve got a bulletin (for) you.
Better keep an eye out for those young guns.
“Better keep an eye on those bullets.”

Not the cleverest, but one takes what they can get.

Chuck took out a few more mooks, and I fired off a few more shots. Reloading the Colt quickly would be out of the question, so once this barrier of foes, I double-checked how many bullets we I had before moving forward to support Chuck. it isn’t easy checking the Chambers when you don’t have the proper gunhand. If I was going to get one of these, I would have to have it made special (not that price would be an issue).

Moving forward I had a perfect shot through two doorways. Chuck was being double-teamed by two more of the skilled amrtial artists, but he managed to bob and weve between them. Even when they pulled out the flash paper he managed to outmanuever and counter them with a chain in one hand and a sword in the other.

The Sword of the General Cheng was not a very impressive sight. It was large; I could probably hardly carry it on my shoulder, but it was not the gem-encrusted beauty my mind imagined. Chuck managed to claim the sword, but continued to gith agin with his improvised weapons.

I kept to the corned taking shots in, and so slowly it seemed we mopped up the area. All except for one gangmember peeping out from around a crate. Before he could ambush anyone though, I leaped around the room and disabled him with a gentle shot to the shoulder.

Looking around I realized that collection work is, and will always be, a mess.

Down the Hill and Across the Lake

The Chikong mooks were definiely well trained. I was have a hard time landing a hit on the single one I was fighting. Not even when he slipped. I offered him help to stand as a feint, but my follow help totally floated past him. I guess I should try punchng less and kicking more seeing as can only throw out so many unches with one hand.

Chuck was bashing mooks left and right with bottles until he was armed with two very threatening looking glass knives


I felt moisture on my face. Damnit, Armitage had gotten blood on my dress again. Shouldn’t he show a little more restrained with that trigger of his. I could of totally handled this guy on my own. He really should let a girl have more fun before he goes fireing off his bullets.

I ripped open my violin case and pulled out a pocket pistol. He just had to go and escalate the thing. And really it wasn’t fair, I would only have four shots: two in the derringer I was drawing out and two in the one strapped to my leg beneath my dress.

I fired twice and nailed one guy in the shoulder… Perhaps I should start carrying a couple more of these things. I mean it is a pretty big case and with spare bullets it’s not much room. I’ll just have to patiently reload them all, and maintain them.

I leaped onto and over a table in an attempt to kick down another one of the scrubby red caps. I would have hi him for sure if my mind wasn’t focused on more important matters. But if I switched to a larger pistol I would have to dealing with the recoil. Sigh. Dad, if only you hadn’t taken me to see that project of yours, this wouldn’t be an issue.

Then, the schmuck threw a glass of alcohol in my face. Damn, my dry cleaning bill is just going up an up. Maybe, Chuck can get me a discount.


And those that were left were running. We gave chase immediately. Well, the others did… I umm… well I tripped and umm, well fell down a couple of flights of stairs. Not my proudest moment, but well… I was being shot at, cough coughyeah I was definitely being shot at at the time. Because I just couldn’t fall down the stairs, I’m far better than that.

And a word of advice to all the kiddies out there. If a elegant (if a bit frantic) dame happens to falls down a flight of stairs, don’t spit gum in her hair, otherwise she will knock over your ice-cream cone and steal your bike.


Thanks to the hilly nature of the city and the traffic I managed to catch up my friends in a stylish open-roofed car (check with Armitage, car’s aint my thing). I leaped into the bck seat letting the tiny bicycle tumble down the rest of the hill. Before I could jump onto the fish truck (hi-jacked by the Chikong of course) we hit the waterfront.

After dealing with one speedboat, I leaped into the next nd gave the drive a good elbow to the nose. Chuck followed as did our resident Mercenary. We easily dealt with the three Chikong. We then spoted the warehouse/dock/Obvious Chikong Base™. I jumped into the water to try to swim stealthily. That was kina broken by one of the boats being since in as a missile. I hope that wasn’t the boat I left my case on. That sword is an antique.

I climbed across the wall and found the entrance. Running in I saw that it was now bathed in fire. I assumed it was out boat attack. I could see one guard, perhaps sixy or so yards away. I reactivel crouched so I could rip my second derringer from it’s place on my hip without messing with my dress too much (even more of a pain now that it was wet).

The thing about my pocket pistols is that they are not really designed to fire that far. The range was definitely pushing it. These tiny thing are designed for poker table range. The bullets fly so enough that given ten or so feet you could actually see the bullet as it flashes through the air like a fly.

I watched my tiny circket of steel soar beyond my sight, where it grew to small to see. The guard was just turning towards me when his head jerke back and he fell.

I stared at my tiny baby of a firearm.

How Many Noodles in Each Bowl
How Many Noodles in Each Bowl

The Stare Down wasn’t quite the dirtiest in eatery I have ever had the honor to sit down in, but it would probably sit in a cozy spot in the top ten. It had a population of miserable drags who had been out too late the night before nd were just recovering. The scum who had survived the night in Chinatown and were just trying to sort out their existence. Their storys the stuff of angsty third rate philosphers who spend their days chain smoking in french coffee house. Our group were look into the existence of a Chinese death cult established in the literal underground of the city. Above ground their territory only extend over two or so blocks. This rat infested establishment being right in the middle. Maybe I was grasping at straws, but perhaps the “Stare” was the way “Down” into the darkness below.
The door opens and three men entered; faces twisted into angry grimances sat below red caps. Red caps: these were the Chikong Tong, and they looked like they wanted a fight. I was starting to get tired of dawdling about with no direction. No mind maps, no trying to figure out who sent a hit on who, no italian mobster assassins, no missing ancient Chinese swords, just the chance to bring my knee it someone’s face and get some good clean information.

I glanced to Armitage after finishing the chapter. “Don’t you just hate it when a story begins near the end and then just cuts to the beginning? Then you have to read the whole way back to the start.”
He shrugged. “Don’t really have much the time for reading. Too many of them Mayans we got to deal with.”
“And dinosaurs. I mean, what’s next? Oriental black magic?” Okay, that’s not really what I said.
“Sir Arthur and his knights?”
“We’ll be landing soon.” Armitage held up his watch.
Damn. I folded my book and shoved into my violin case next my two derringers. The great detecive John Kalkoon would have to wait.

Chuck invited us into his family’s noodle shop for lunch. It was quaint. The noodles were good, but the neighborhood was obviously not the best. Chuck’s cousin was stuck in a protection racket, and we had the disfortune of being there come collection time. We managed to somehow not get into a fight right then. Though I may have been recognize. I suppose that’s not too surprising considering the number of one-armed, women crimefighters running around.
After we left the noodle shop we split up. I went to do groundwork, Armitage decided to tale some military types, and Chuck went to sort out family matters of his own.
For the low-low price of $35 I managed to get some information, that may or may not be important. Apparently there was going to be a fight tomorrow, some control would be shifted and one gang would emerge victorious. The Chikong tong apparently had good odds.
It’s surprising what you can learn in Russian trinket shops.
After dodging some stalkers I walked out of China Town I heard a gunshop and dashed to see what it was. After turning a corner I see Armitage holding a corpse in the middle of the street. I tried to stay inconspiculous while I scanned for the shooter. The gun had been hidden in a baguette, which might have fooled a common person, but not someone with not my
Of course I did the obvious thing: chase him into an alley and knock some respect into him. A hired gun, Mafia, ex-military, anonymousy hired. I let him go, but he’s going to hve a hard time getting a date for a week or two. Someone is pissed off at the longshoreman union. How does this tie in with Chinatown; does it at all?
After meeting up with Armitage, he let me know he was heading to meet with his posh British allies. We would meet up again at the museum( we still had to get our acquisitons appraised and labeled). Chuck let us know his father was out of jail but now missing, and may or may not be a member of an underground death cult that is responsible for people being turning up dead with a complexion somewhat redder than it should be.
This is where we found that the ancient sword of General Cheng was stolen. A descendant of the general would be unbeatable if they held the sword. After interrogating the guard we learned we were dealing with the Chikongs.

We return to China Town and we learn what we can from Chuc’s family about his father. We then head to a flowershop where we manage to map out the territory of the Darkness Below. The poor flower salesman was stuck with a fountain he would never be able to sell. We visited an astrology who predicted that I would bring about mass destruction and death, but really who could take that seriously. He, he…….

We were kind of lost of what to do next, that’s when I spotted the Stairs Down.

An Untimely Exit

We left the two mercenaries and the rats behind, and it seemed the others had found the exit we were looking for. I was still too busy staring at my hands, it isn:t every day that you start channeling Aztec voodoo. And Skulls? How corny is that? I mean, next time we turn around snakes will be pouring out of some cultist:s eyes, with wings. Snakes with Wings. Hopefully whatever I have still works when that happens…


My thoughts scattered, and I turned my head to see check behind us, and ran, inner voices screaming horrid profanities unsuitable to be written.

After the round about trip with the false treasure and the pendulum, we had circumvented the halls and were neaer again to the entrance. My bootprint recognizable in the dust. Half of us thought it was the best idea to keep going east, or I think it was east, beging underground is such a pain sometimes.

But nooooo…. Oxley just had to check out that one last room; the one room with the living corpes ready to chew us to bits. I mean, I nailed one right through the eye on the first move, but it’s not like we found anything really worth it, just an amulet and a couple bracelets barely worth a pittance. And we wasted some perfectly good bullets as well.

It was a good thing I was too winded by all the running to vocalize the profanities dancing through my head, otherwise my reputation might never recover. For some reason the hallway just kept getting longer, and longer…. and longer. Chuck dashed far ahead, and I managed to keep going fast enough not to be squashed. I would probaby suffer later for it though.

We broke through the darkness and I was blinded. It sounded like there was a war going on. Then we were attacked, and I grabbed a spear I think, then tried to use my magic again; which may or may not have caused no effect whatsoever. The sun had blinded me. Hopefully our situation isn’t that bad. I mean what’s the worst it could be?

Serpent Agents

Ageo Serrano was an engineer in Sao Luis, Mexico, developing pesticide spraying devices for aircraft. Nine months ago he married Sophie Abrego. The happy couple traveled to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon and settled into an upscale apartment. After a night of dancing and dinner, a very happy

Ageo returned to his apartment and found a fist-sized turquoise serpent on his pillow. Ageo hid it from his wife and snuck out of the house while she was sleeping.

Salviano Lerma was a waiter in Cacapava, Guatemala. During the day he apprenticed with the chef, preparing to take over the position of assistant cook, when the current assistant retired in October. Exhausted, he collapsed in his one-room apartment and slept blissful sleep. That isn’t to say his life was all toil. There was a cantina beneath his apartment that hired the finest mariachi bands. He’d go downstairs to enjoy food and drink and music, or he’d just life in his bed, looking out the open windows, watching the sunlight be distorted by the sheer curtains dancing in the breeze. He came back to his apartment one night, placed a plate of food he’d prepared to eat, went into the washroom to shower the sweat from his body and came out to find a fist-sized turquoise serpent placed on top of his enchiladas. Salviano left without eating his dinner.

Ten days later, atop of a lost pyramid in Mexico, Salviano slowly crept out from behind the statue of Camazotz and slit the archaeologist’s lookout, sent up to the roof from inside the Tepeu statue to survey the lost city. Ten minutes later, a second member of the archaeologist’s team went up the statue. Ageo shot him in the throat with a crossbow.

Salviano and Ageo took the dead men’s clothes and stashed the corpses inside the secret storage compartment along the low western wall. Whispering praises to the House of Serpents, focusing on the loved ones snatched from their lives and sacrificed by the House of Skulls, the agents grew restless and hungry for revenge.

They’d been told by their contact that the Chosen One for the House of Skulls was coming, and it was up to Salviano and Ageo to destroy her before she aided the Skulls.

Twelve hours later, on their knees, hands on their heads, very aware they were wearing dead men’s clothes, Salviano and Ageo paid no mind to the rifle-toting Brit. They seethed in rage at the approach of Mary Middlemass, the woman who would help the Skulls once and for all destroy the Serpents. The mission had failed. The Chosen One departed with her companions.

The agents wrestled with their bounds, but it was too late. They could hear the boulder trap triggered. The two men looked at each other. Ageo had already freed his hands from the ropes, but there was no getting ahead of the boulder. They would not be able to knock the Chosen One to the ground in front of the boulder, ensuring it crushed her as well as the Skull prophesy.

After a long fifteen seconds, the Serpent agents heard the repeated echoes sealing their doom. The boulder had made it to the end of its run. Whether the Chosen One had survived or not was unknown. As for Ageo and Salviano, their failure was complete. Salviano nodded to Ageo, who unholstered thedead man’s pistol, aimed it at the waiter and pulled the trigger before turning the gun on himself.

Glancing Away

It isn’t that I’m afraid, no, of course not. I mean, it’s really just a dead body, mummified yes, but still just that.

I just, don’t much fancy seeing what I might look like in a thousand years time. I mean, the drawing that looked like me earlier, and now this Lady K’abel and Tepayu, tis sky god. Everything thing here is really just a mess.

Was this really that a job, I mean all we came here to do was find this stupid skull. Now I’ll never to be able to go out in a proper summer dress again, with the snake tattoo and all.

At least I’m not dead I guess. That’s one thing I have on this corpse. She might have been a queen, but I don’t see her kicking around New York, takng names. And no, I refuse to believe we are the same person. We may look the same, and I am sure that both of mght have a bit of an ego problem – or had in her case.

I am not a queen though. K’abel doen’t run around the city kicking criminals in the knee-caps.

Initial Impressions and Surprises

Rafe Armytage

My initial impressions of the group were interesting. Having met some of the group before I was pleasantly surprised that I had worked with a couple of them before.

I heard a commotion from down the hall. As I entered the hall I saw Mary lying on the floor with an Amazon standing over her. After dealing with the Warrior Priestesses and healed Mary, we found their dining room and took up a watch to try and recover.
We moved back to the rotating rooms and decided to try some of the paths we had yet to go down. The path we choose had a sarcophagus guarded by a couple of white apes. Sam tranquilized the apes we opened the sarcophagus. Which contained a young girl who looked a lot like Mary…

Interludes: 1 & 4

Arrogance is in the Eye of the Beholder

Getting slashed down the chest hurts, but it’s not like it was really my fault. I am an expert when it comes to the sword. She must have used some screwy magic or something. And it’s not like I wasn’t fighting one handed or anything.

I was peacefully enjoying the Serpent clan’s chanting ceremony, singing along as the words entered my head from I don’t really know wear, enjoying the feeling of the comfy black dress given to me.
Apparently the party I was with was beating the crap out of some of the guards placed at the door to, as I thought, protect me. Oh, yeah, and I’m the chosen one, perhaps I should go back a bit further.

I was never much good at politics, but around here it seems we have a two class system. The oppressive House of Skull that wears snake regalia, with a skull tattoo on their skin, and the currently rebelling Snake House that wears skull masks and have snake tattoos. The Skulls apparently practice human sacrifice: pretty much a big no-no in my book. Earlier my comrades on this endeavor managed to align themselves with the Skulls (that event with the snake that I mentioned before). Which caused the little scuffle later that I, skillfully, managed to diffuse.

Anyway, the priest with the magical “Crystal Skull” is apparently a skull, wait, he wore a skull mask. Damnit, why can’t these native at least be consistent with their costuming!

Anyway, we found the skull, and there is some very funky mojo around it. It talked to me, and I’m afraid in my fluster I might have made it think I was an idiot. That doesn’t matter though, because well, I’m the chosen one. From what I can tell, that means later I’m going to get to dance with the very handsome sky god. That means there’s no possible way that I’m going to die bleeding on the floor after mortal combat with that batty harlot.

So, I took the chance to keep most of the prayer people distracted, hoping the violence behind them would calm down for a second and we could figure out what the problem is (you see I was still confused when it came to the whole house problem; it really only made sense when I related them to the ganges I’m used to in the city: the skulls were the Minotaur Triad and the Snakes were the Red Brokers). Turns out people really only listen to very loud shouting.

At least they responded better this time than the whole “school girl can’t shoot” scandal. Damn that still makes me sick when I think about it. Next thing I know and they will be saying I can’t read a map.

Anyway, thanks to my esteemed position, that affair was ended with minimal bloodshed.

Pros/Cons of being the Chosen One
Pro: Stylish snake tattoo / Con: I will never be able to wear short sleeves in polite society ever again
Pro: I got to see the universe from a mightily high perspective / Con: I got to see the universe from a mightily high perspective
Pro: I have power / Con: I have some responsibility that I don’t completely comprehend
Con: Crazy Batwife Demigoddess Amazon that joyfully tries to rip me apart
Con: All of my friends got the wrong tattoo
Con: Why if the Sky Lord manages to be a total nerf-herder. You can never be sure with those divine types. One moment they want a lamb for dinner, and next, broosh the entire planet is covered in water.

Only the best can be the chosen one, and, well, who else but me. ;)

Momentary Separation

Rafe Armytage

As the rest of the Party went further into the temple I hung back to investigate a wall carving.

Interludes 2

Wandering the Corridors

I was the last of the group that was tested. Everyone else had seemed tense, but there were all cleared. It must have been something about that snake; it obviously had it out for me. It’s not my fault it didn’t take kindly to me. I was sincere! I was….

The two clans apparently have a history of tension between each other, Skulls and Snakes (I should remember that one for my autobiography, great chapter header). The test has put us in alignment with the reptilian side of the pair. Allegedly the skull clan is for of murderers and brutes, but the little girl before seemed alright. That painting, that was weird. Moving on…

After the test, we were given the chance to don some of the snake clan’s clothing, well except for me – stupid snake! The group decided we best keep moving, and not paint ourselves as targets for the skull heads. Our goal is to find that crystal skull we saw in the hands of one of the priests when we entered the this pyramid. It’s felt like we’ve been inside here forever, though probably only a few hours. I miss the city, when I could be in and out in an hour, with the MacGuffin (read it in a movie magazine once). Well, I guess I don’t miss the spray of bullets at me, but you win some you lose some I guess.

The temple is a mess. You would think they would clear out the place every now and then. It is supposed to be holy to them right? There are pests everywhere. Clawed, toothed, vicious beasts. I let the others take care of them, not that I’m afraid or anything. It’s just that if you’ve got men who are good with guns behind you, let them do there thing.

Of course if you always give them their fun they’ll start acting as if you’re some idiot girl who can’t tell the handle from the barrel. Sure, I might no have the arm to hold a magnum, that doesn’t mean I can’t aim a derringer. I know how to shoot damn it. So when Irene asks if I know if the safety is on, know close I was to dropping her: dame close, that is! Well, not that close, it isn’t like I want to kill anybody.

Off one pathway I remember hearing people chanting to the sky god, the one I was painted with by that child. We moved in the opposite direction, but I’m still feeling uncomfortable about this entire situation. Things are not right here; something is wrong, but I can’t put my finger on it.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.