Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), werewolf salve, flashlight, Ares Shrike, 185 5.56 rounds (Loaded).
HP: 15
Stats
Int: 8
Str: 15
Agi: 7
Skills: Close Combat (3), Demolition (3), Heavy weapons (2)
Advantages: Determined
Disadvantages: Chain-Smoker, Stressed
Perks: Large Frame, Good Samaritan, Quiet
Quirks: Quiet, Good Samaritan, Large Frame
Bio: Alec grew up in a big city in the US. He was large by most standards, even as a kid, and its served him well enough. He's never been the most dexterous, indeed Alec considers himself a bit accident prone, it not being too uncommon for him to bump into things due to his large frame. He's never been the brightest either, didn't do too bad in school but did noticeably lag behind some of the other students. It wasn't that he couldn't apply what he learned, it was that it simply took him longer to learn something that came more naturally to others.
But, what he prides himself in is his strength. Being large, most people let him be as who would want to mess with that one kid about a foot or two taller than about everyone else? That was always fine with him, left him time to himself. Alec always appreciated his time alone, enjoyed it indeed. For when he was alone, all the pressures of the world just slipped away from him, he could relax without having to feel like he was constantly playing catch-up with everyone around him. He never really had to work hard to make his body strong, it always just seemed to be so. Knocks he's taken would often harm others, but to him it was just something he'd shrug off. Alec never found a reason to voice his pain, it was always something that was passing, something he often forgot about five minutes later anyway, so why give it a voice? He's gotten more than one weird look for stubbing his toe and taking it in silent stride with nothing more than a grimace.
But indeed, what he prided himself on the most however, was strength of spirit. While he may not of been the most brightest, he still tried his hardest to learn, while he may not of been the most dexterous, he still tried his hardest to watch his step as he could. From what he's seen, his strength has been a boon to him, one that he should use to help instead of hurt people. He's often used to giving it his all when he needs to, so he shies not from hard work.
Joining the Archangels wasn't that big of a leap for him. While he would of preferred to make instead of break, he understands that he has a certain talent with stuff and before he joined Archangel, he was a demolistionist. Not the kind that worked with bombs mind you, more the kind that worked with the machines, wielded a jack hammer or a sledge. People would often have things brought up that they didn't wish there anymore, so he was paid to bring it down. When the troubles began, and became a threat, he didn't panic but rather went to see what he could do to help as best he could. This led him to Archangel
You rolled a two, with a success at three. Fortunately, the cold was mostly mental, and mummies tend to burn easily, the fog didn't do much to stop the fire. I had based the "dungeon" on the Catacombs of Paris, thus the walls of skulls and the sign, with the graveyard based on another graveyard. The borrow wright was based on a natural mummy, since they are considered the European version of the mummy, I thought it would be fitting.
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You look around for a spot, finding nothing that had hinted of him being here. You simply pickup what you can and lay him in front of the cross among the other body parts, his body now just as skeletal and dead, with his arms above his heart. You find nothing of value, simply stone walls and dead bodies. You grab the Bible and follow Helena out. The tunnel seems much less cold now, as you step over the corpses in the way. You make it past the gate easily enough, David had been waiting for you, leaning against the wall. There were a few bodies lying around and a small hole in the rubble blocking the door, which the three of you manage to push aside as you go out. The graveyard looks like a battlefield, with dead bodies piled everywhere, carpeting the area. The jetcopter was parked outside the graveyard, with Otonashi speaking over the communicator as Timmy sat slumped over the turret gun. You step over the dead, stepping on a few of them, as you go to the copter. You show your bible to Otonashi, who takes immediate interest in it.
Pulling out the hand behind his back, now covered in a black glove, Otonashi examines the book. "New glue techniques on the binding.... no page wear. Smells like new to....The paper is modern, and the pages are written by a machine, with page numbers. It is also a King James version, looking at your verse. The catacombs pride themselves on having genuine tenth-century writings and bones, and while this may fool a tourist several scientists have examined them. Coupled with your description of the borrow wright, I would have to assume that our friend brought it with him. Even if he is just messing with us and we can not find a motivation in this, we may find some finger prints or similar forensic evidence..." he says, carefully looking over the book, bringing it closer to his face, turning it around, and even smelling it. He then puts it in what looks like a zip lock bag as you go to the jetcopter.
You return to the main base, the ride being the standard, arriving at night time. The squad lands in a different docking bay that Otonashi had called in, opening a separate part of the roof like a microwave, as you land. The room, as opposed to your garage, is a sterile white. Doctors, masked with something that looks like it could block chemical weapons, had given each of your squad a checkup, taken a blood sample, and other such procedure. After returning to the jetcopter, Otonashi explains that it is standard when a mission involves undead or other Freaks that are likely to give off diseases, as it would be horrible for a disease to spread in the facility, especially considering everyone is inside. Your squad is found to be clean, and you leave back to your own garage.
You return to your room and do your nightly rituals, going to bed soon after. You wake up hungry, realizing that you had only had breakfast yesterday.
Is there anything you want to do during cooldown?
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Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, hatchet, (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (3), rosary, glasses, Glock(7), Glock magazine (3), PP-19 Bizon 2 (0), lighter (full), Glasses case
HP: 7
Stats:
Int: 9
Str: 11
Agi: 10
Skills: General Medic(3), Small Arms (3), Shotgun (2), Sub-machine gun (2)
Advantages: She has steady hands, and is very calm in high stress situations. This can be a lifesaver in the field.
Disadvantages: Territorial about her work, needs glasses/contacts(farsighted), and a functional alcoholic.
Perks: Excellent bedside manner.
Quirks: Racist. Yep. Against EVERYONE. Not to the point where she dislikes them, just the point where she believes just about every stereotype there is. Curiously enough, not religious, or homophobic, or sexist. I can change this if it might cause problems.
Bio: Patricia grew up in southern Texaz, raised by two rich white parents who fit every stereotype of rich white people there was, or almost. They did love their daughter, but they were also assholes to most people below their station. When she became a surgeon in college, they were delighted to see their little girl take up such a proud profession. When the chupacabras started striking, she managed to save her brother's life, barely, but had to run, and he was left behind. She rode a horse for hours, eventually letting the poor thing rest, where she was taken in by some kind colored people. Long story short, she ended up joining the Archangel foundation, to help keep the fighting men alive. That said, being a Texan, she's not bad with a pistol either...
You unload your gun, as it sings out with *pdddpdddpddd" as you use automatic fire, spraying bullets toward the groups of cultist. The look surprised, ducking for cover, as a few humans and a brute take your overpressure bullets. The kick is a little stronger then on your handguns, going into your shoulder rather then your hand, as your gun keeps getting lighter and lighter, bullets flying out of your gun. Your comrades join you, firing at the cultist as you begin your charge. The cultists, taken aback by surprised, seemed to not know how to use their guns, like they had never fired one in their life, and opened full auto toward your squad. The brutes, looking like they had never even heard of a gun, opened fire haphazardly, some even hitting their own men on the other side of the room. While the cultists where fighting Charlie and Colt, you continued to jump on the Nazi.
The Nazi smiled, standing idly as you jumped on him. He simply turned his head, his insane smile widening , as he simple said "Your turn, Isaiah." , as you tackle him to the ground, raising your axe. Suddenly, the cultist who you had spared points his fist at you. It bubbles for a second, before a slimy tentacle hits out at you, punching you back as if you had been hit by a truck, even sending you flying. Pain shoots through your body as you hit the ground. You managed to protect your head, but your torso hurts, causing you to curl up in pain. The Nazi gets up, pointing his finger at you. "I have received a few...upgrades since we last met!" He states, as his finger begins to transform. His finger becomes the gun barrel from last time, but from his wrist projected a shotgun, above it another, smaller gun. On the sides were two more pistols, making it look like the Nazi had glued several guns to his hand. He begins to laugh as he prepares to fire, only for the hand of the cultist you had saved touches his shoulder. "The trials are not done yet....it is time to take our leave." He said, pushing a button.
The door at the top of the chamber began to open, revealing a small coating of dirt. The cultist you had saved earlier, apparently named Isiah, puts his hands to the side, as his fingers start to bubble. They then jut out red, vainy muscle bulbs that transform into a smiley, yet still vainy, tentacle with suction cups at the bottom, a little less thick then the tentacals you had seen before. He then uses these to grab on the side of the silo, rising up to the top quickly, holding the Nazi in one hand. "Lebewohl Brother!" The Nazi says, between insane laughter, "Even if they break you, big brother Walther will fix you! Maybe we can get your memory back! Just think of the upgrades....", as the cultist bursts through the roof, as dirt falls, light coming through the hole he had burst through.
The cultist around had now been thinned by the gunfire of yourself and your squad mates, as well as their own, leaving only a fourth of the original cultists left. You can now move yourself, what do you do?
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Topic: Operation Archangel- Modern Role Playing Game *Accepting New Members...Still* (Read 28501 times)