Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

...!

0 (0%)

////

0 (0%)

!2!

0 (0%)

Total Members Voted: 0

Voting closed: July 28, 2013, 09:40:58 pm

[Rolepgeek]

Yeah. Hatchet's not gonna be too effective, but it might keep him occupied. HACK AND SLASH!

[Xanmyral]

Alec growled again. That damned noise, that damned smell, that damned sight. Disgusting, repulsive, anger-rising. How he longs for something to set them aflame, or the ability to crush them all, but time he does not have. Tommy has passed this way, that much is sure, but why he moved on so quickly without him alludes him. Making his way to the corpse of the large spider, he pauses for a moment. Perhaps he can have some fun...

Tearing the limbs off of the large spider, he makes a small pile of them and throws them with all his force at the smaller spiders on the walls and ceiling. If he runs out of targets, he gives another laugh and moves on, if he runs out of limbs, throw the rest of the body, then take the fallen spiders dropped dead by the throws as ammunition for his throwing-based amusement. Once they're mostly dead, dying, or twitching, he'll continue making his way down.

[Time to handle this DF Adventurer style, with judicial use of throwing.

I'm guessing the spider tapping acts as some sort of information relay to whatever is the host/leader of the spider colony, if I were to guess.]

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, hatchet, (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (2), rosary, glasses,  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 bring down your hatchet onto the ooze, sending a little flying as it hits, moving slowly as it cuts through. The ooze feels like your moving through water, a little thicker, as your hatchet makes a stressed line through the goo, only to ooze over behind the hatchet. Apollo and Artemis fire their guns smiling, the bullets apparently having the same effect as your hatchet, tar like ooze spraying out as holes form and reform.

The ooze moves slowly, like cake batter, flowing over you and the twins. It begins absorbing your and the twin's boots, going over the floor as the rest of the ooze begins to flow toward you, slowly going up your body.

What do you do now?

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

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Time to handle this DF Adventurer style, with judicial use of throwing.

At least you haven't tried the grapple rules yet.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), flashlight, Ares Shrike, 192 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 rush up to the corpse, running down on all fours and making it to the spider in the time it takes to blink. The voice in your head laughs harder as you rip off the spider's legs, each coming off as easily. Almost like a crab dinner, green ooze coming out as you rip the limbs off. The torso had several small holes, as well as a much larger one, across the torso, the stench of new flesh filling your heightened senses. The spiders had begun mobilizing as you mutilate the corpse, aware of your new ability to see past their deception they had decided to rush you.

You pick up the first leg, throwing it like a spear. It flies across in a spiral like a bullet, directly hitting the nearest spider, a crushing sound filling your ears as the leg pins the spider to the concrete, sending some of it spiraling up. You take the second leg and throw it in a similar way, missing the next spider and causing it to skid, tripping a second spider. You take a leg and each hand and throw them down the hallway like a boomerang, air *WHOOSH*ing as they fly down the hallway, cracking into two spiders rushing at you. At this point a group of four had almost gotten to you, you take the rest of the legs in one hand with some difficulty and throw them like a spear, ending up in a shotgun effect. At this close range the effect was the same, the spiders screeching as they are hit by the legs, thrown so powerfully that even those that missed bounced up and hit something. A final group of three rushed toward you, finding yourself out of legs, you grab a hold of the torso. You lift it with a twist, throwing it in some kind of mock wrestle move. Even in this heightened state, you are under some strain, but it still flies across the hallway effectively, landing on all three spiders with enough force to destroy some of the track below them, and continuing to bounce, crashing into the wall far behind it. The laughing softens, though does not stop, as you finish off the enemies.

You continue down the hallway, running across the tracts on all fours once again. Across the corner, you can finally see the subway train. You notice Tommy, as well as an army of giant spiders. Not small giant spiders like the last one, but truly giant spiders, filling the tunnel with their mass. At least twelve of them stood around, nine of them in a circle. Webbing connected them, turning purple as the spiders sat around it, as if in some kind of ritual, giant and covering the subway. Webbing was heavily shown in the hallway, filling the floor, with large circles of webs filling up the walls.

Tommy himself was fighting off three of the giant spiders, combating them with a large smile on his face. He was on top of one's head, the head being about as large as he was, wielding his shotgun. A second spider was close, both giant spiders struggling to fit both their masses so closely together. Still a third was watching, as if waiting for an opening. The second spider swiped at Tommy swiftly with his two front most arms in a sweeping punch, only for Tommy to quickly jump upward. He points his shotgun down and fires, a light temporarily blinding you, and when you look back the giant spider was on the ground unmoving. Tommy was under the second spider, the third spider attempting to join the fight.

What do you do?

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

Ah, sorry for not writing much this month. Big test, mothers day, another big test, and you guys are all doing action sequences.

[Rolepgeek]

Grimace, then pour both whiskey flasks out onto the goo. "Have a drink." Take out lighter. Motion for twins to start running. Drop it onto whiskey. Start running.

[Xanmyral]

[...The urge to use the giant spider corpse as a hammer is threatening my common sense. I know that if I somehow succeed that, which in and of itself very unlikely, I'll probably bring the roof on my and Tommy's head. Mustn't. _{Mustn't... I won't... Maybe next turn...}]

Alec grunted at the sight. Tommy seems to be handling himself fine, although how he got all the way over here without him is in question of either wisdom or spider trickery. But such thought quickly gets pushed to the back of his mind by the incessant urge. The urge to rip and tear. It builds up in his mind like a chant, the, mostly ignored, laughing almost in rhythm with it. The spiders almost seem to glow in his sight, but more likely everything else is just dimming, losing focus. Rip and tear! The webbing might slow him down, or block his path, but he didn't care, the spiders must die. All spiders must die. Kill all spiders, rip and tear, death to the spiders! With a flurry of motion, he practically flew himself towards the circle of spiders, them being the largest concentration, and when almost there will take a running leap, unleashing a shout of rage, towards one of them that will land him in the center of their circle, hammer clenched in both hands to bring it down on the disgusting Freak with all his might.

In the ensuing melee, he'll revert to using his hammer in one hand, his other grasping his Shrike and using it one handed in the other. The hammer warding off blows and smashing limbs that draw near, the Shrike going for body shots on the spiders, using them both in some sort of strange combo that, with anyone else in any other circumstance, would probably be impossible, but for him, in this circumstance, not so much.

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, hatchet, (Speed loader), rosary, glasses, 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 take a whiskey flash in both hands, carefully holding your hatchet as you dump both flasks onto the ooze. You pull out the lighter and motion to run, struggling through the thick ooze that threatens to engulf you. You and the twins manage to struggle a few steps away, as the bulk of the amoeba like enemy rises up like a hammer, preparing to smash into your squad. You drop the lit lighter into the whiskey, causing flames to quickly rise in a wall between you and the beast. The sludge on your foot melts, changing from a tar like substance to a water like one. The wall of flame acts like a knife, cutting off part of the creature and causing it to retreat. You and the twins manage to exit the room as the flames begin to spread to decorations on the wall, acting as a further wall.

You look back into the room. The flames from the firebomb had spread, adding to the flames of the whiskey, making the room a blazing inferno. "...He still has the detonator." Apollo states as he and Artemis reloads their guns.

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

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), flashlight, Ares Shrike, 182 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

The world fades around you, tunnel vision worsening once again as the laughter rises once more. You run through the webbing, acting as sticky vines, you hardly feel the steelike substance as you run through it easily. You pounce, flying almost to the point you hit your head on the roof, and bring the hammer down hard on the nearest spider, turning yourself into a bullet. Your gun fludders like a cape behind you as you smash into the spider, your hammer and arms breaking through the steel like outside with a *CRACK*, causing the spider to shudder a bit as you swing yourself out, landing in the middle of the circle. The purple mist stops, which you hardly notice in the adrenaline like fire in your veins.

You land with a slide, pulling the gun off your back in one motion as you wield both weapons. You spray bullets, forgetting everything Tommy had taught you, using the gun as if it had fired paintball. It had attempted to escape your grip, however your great strength does not notice it. The bullets spray into the spider you had just assaulted, ten bullets spraying green ooze as the spider goes down, dead. Behind you, a spider attacks you, four spear like arms jabbing at you. The world around you slows. You quickly act, swinging your hammer into one arm, cracking it off and severing it completely. Completely negating the force of your last blow, you run your hammer into the next arm, parrying it like a sword. It slams into the ground, spraying up webbing and making a scratching sound. A scream assaults your senses, in slow motion as well. One arm nearly hit you, going above your head, as you bring your hammer smashing into the last arm, barly averting it above your head.

The scream continues from the hole, as you realize you are standing on the subway car, the spider standing next to you. There are disadvantages to tunnel vision.

What do you do now?

[Xanmyral]

[Either that strength is really paying off, or I'm just getting some down right amazing rolls. Also, hah, seems that the magic circle teleported me or something. Or that tunnel vision is some really amazing stuff, either way.]

Alec momentarily looked around to retake stock of his surroundings. This... Wasn't exactly where he was last time, it seems. Seems jumping into purple mist isn't as great of an idea as he had previously thought. Hearing the screams above his own beating heart and the ever-present laughter, which is still mostly ignored in favor of the more present due to its importance, he glanced towards the hole. Cursing, realizing that he had left Tommy with about several giant spiders on his own, as well as the possible hostages below, he tried to focus his intent further to wrap this up quickly. Turning to the spider, lets loose a stream of bullets at it, hoping to finish it quickly. If that didn't quite do it, he'll finish it with his hammer.

Once the spider is gone, he'll drop down the hole to see what's going on down below. Hopefully more spiders to kill, he momentarily thought before trying to push that away in favor of rather rescuing hostages, but the thought remained, as did the anger still burn.

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), flashlight, Ares Shrike, 162 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 spray bullets at the spider, your arm still on the gun. Twenty bullets spill out of your gun simply, ramming into the spider and making it twitch, causing it to go limp. Its arm, still above your head, falls on you heavily, doing no damage but pushing you into the floor a bit. You then hop off the subway and land on the floor, your weapons still in both hands, as you look to the group of spiders surrounding you. Purple lines, much like the webbing they are above, twitched around you as you look around. There where still ten left, attempting to fit themselves in a position they can get a circle in. The spiders begin to hold hands and dance, their limbs moving back in forth as they utter some guttural chant. The purple lines on the floor go up your foot, binding you as if they where physical webs, strong enough to keep you still in even this period of greater strength. Unable to move, you fall to the ground...

One of the spiders suddenly explodes, as the purple lines exit from your body. Tommy stands on a spider corpse, his rifle in hand, fixing another rifle-launched grenade to it. "Sorry about back there!" he states over the communicator, "But I saw they guy who tricked you. We were supposed to be secret, remember? So I wenta kill him. Got em to, but it looks like he already sent the message. Ah well, I still got a tonna points!" he stated, firing another grenade, vaporizing the head of another spider. He is really accurate!

On the other side, the sound of a large gun goes off. Two spiders turn to look, only to be riddled with large holes. Helena comes out of the darkness, wielding a M240 machine gun as if it was a rifle, waving to you and Tommy. "Thanks for distracting them!" She says cheerfully, holding the gun in one hand. "The other guys where dead wait with the illusions on em." Otonashi and David follow behind, wielding their standard weapons. David uses a rifle thrown grenade much like Tommie's, sending the explosive into one of the nearest spiders, killing it. Oto takes a grenade from his back and throws it, an impressive throw that takes out another spider. Helena and Tommy begin firing in tandem, synchronizing fire at the remaining spiders, twitching twords Tommy several times then once towards Helena, then falling to the ground. David and Oto walk up to you. "Need a hand?" David stated, putting his hand out to you. "Have you been working out or something?" he then states, as Otonashi opens the webbed-up subway door, saying some soothing words to the hostages.

What do you do now?

[Xanmyral]

Alec took in all what was going on around him, it seemed he went from going alone to the whole team being there to back him up. He's never felt more relieved, stinging anger that won't go away not-withstanding. Nor the laughing voice, which he's still trying to ignore although its starting to annoy him now. He waved David's hand away, but offered a thanks, then saying "I try" in response to the working out question and rose to his feet himself. He let go of the gun, letting it go slack on its sling, he still keeps a tight grip on the sledge however, which is probably horribly caked in ichor. He gives it a few gentle shakes to try and get any excess off, before leaning it on his shoulder and cracking a few joints in his neck.

Alec checked to make sure his communicator was back on the proper channel, no longer needing the static although he never really needed it in the first place, and with that done turned back to David. "Went well?"


[Crap, just realized something. The route I took to get here is probably the route they're going to leave by with the hostages. Er... Damn my urge of not dispatching enemies in mundane ways when more esoteric ones are around. Now I got to think of a way to explain why there are spiders impaled on spider legs and why there are craters everywhere a bit further. Ah, crap.]

[Rolepgeek]

"And how are we supposed to get it if'n he can eat us? Let's wait a few minutes for the fire to kill 'em. Anyone got water? We'll need to put out the fire once he's gone, or close enough to it."

[Stirk]

Well everyone else in the house is still asleep from the late-night Twilight movies last night, and I got waken up by a wasp, so might as well write stuff before mothers day gets started.

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

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), flashlight, Ares Shrike, 162 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 get up successfully and ask David the question. "You could say that." he says, shouldering his rifle. "We had to take the brunt of the attacks, and I didn't know what was going on half the time. Helena had to tell us which was real on the communicator, and we couldn't even trust that voice. But thanks to your stopping the circle, the visions went away and we managed to get here nice and fast."

You get up, looking at the green liquid on your hammer. You wipe the sweat off your forehead, feeling the dried blood from the headbutt earlier. The sharpness of your vision begins to fade, and turns blurry for a second, as the rest of your senses suddenly blur out as well. You suddenly fall to your knees, there is a powerful stinging sensation in your arm. You look over to find a red cut, apparently the leg you didn't block managed to hit you and you didn't notice in the salve state. The voice in your head softens to a whisper, and the pain goes away for the most part. David makes a motion like he is going to grab you, asking if you are OK in a worried voice. You shake him off, telling him you where fine.

You clean off your hammer to the best of your abilities, getting enough off that you can clean the rest back at base. You then move the communicator...The static is gone, probably because Tommy had switched to this channel. How else would he communicate earlier? You then turn around and begin to walk the way you came in.

The sound of a rifle's safety going off comes from behind you. "Where are you going, 'Alec'" David states, pointing his gun at you. His eyes had narrowed in suspicion, above the iron sights of his gun. "The jetcopter is the other way. Or did you forget in this short amount of time?" he continues in an accusing manner. "Helena?" "Nopenopenope! He is clean. Just forgetful." Helena states, putting her large gun on her shoulder. "Oh damn....Sorry Alec. The spiders are really tricky, they mess with your head. I need to get home and go to sleep" David continued apologetically, pointing his gun away from you and shouldering it as well.

Otonashi says something over the communicator, and police officers and medical officers rush in through both sides of the subway station in just a few minutes. The hostages are guided out, a few unfortunate ones quickly brought out on stretchers, a few even more unfortunate ones covered with a black tarp. Your squad pushes past all the hustle to exit the other direction. You notice a lot of spider corpses, they had a lot more giant giant spiders to deal with, with at least three times as many small giant spiders. Other then that they layout is much the same, and you ride see the stairs once again, somehow looking less dark then before. You realize that you had not been using a flashlight this whole time. Probably because the salve has not entirely warn off yet? And walk up the stairs to see the helicopter waiting just above them.

You get in the entrance of the door, holding onto both sides, as your squad follows you, when the whisper in your head begins to form coherent words once again. "   For thus saith the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel; Let not your prophets and your diviners, that be in the midst of you, deceive you, neither hearken to your dreams which ye cause to be dreamed. For you are being deceived right now, my child. Strike out at those you call your friends. Only then shalt you truly see!" The voice was but a whisper, happy and somehow soothing, despite what is being said.

What do you do now?

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

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, hatchet, (Speed loader), rosary, glasses, 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...

"We don't have enough time to wait." Apollo stated, holding his gun at ready position. "We might not even have fight minutes left. We may be able to wait him out if we get the detonator...." "I don't exactly carry around a fire truck full of water." Artemis stated, looking around her own gun at the ready. "But we might be able to get the water supply here, if we can find the pipes. Its a nuclear bunker, so this might be difficult. " she states. "We just have to find some way to the detonator, then we can ignore him all we want. "

What do you do now?

[Rolepgeek]

Patricia looks at Colt for a few seconds. "Did we ever find whether he melts in a fire?"

[Xanmyral]

Alec sighed. Its been a rough day, or at least its already felt like a full day. He had thought Tommy had died twice, once to a spider, once by himself, the salve, the resulting... Extermination? It was less of a fight, more of a slaughter in his mind. The spiders never stood a chance, with their complete reliance on trickery to do their dirty work. Alec wasn't the only one affected either, David had actually pointed a gun at him, because Alec's mind was still muddled by the salve, the action, the hate. This was not a fun mission team wide, it seems. Seemed like these missions just keep getting harder as it goes along, and he's starting to understand the death count on the news he saw.

But the mission here seems done, the hostages rescued, the spiders mostly dead or scurried back to whatever dark hole they spawned from. Alec's anger still burned at the spiders, but there wasn't much else to do about it. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm himself as well as he could. This salve is getting to him. The voice was much quieter now than it was before, but still it urged him onward to do... Something. Strike at his friends? The thought brought back the memory of the spiders and their puppet, boiling yet freezing his blood at the same time in fear and anger. He didn't like this voice. He didn't like its damn laugh. He didn't like what it said. A deceiver, a false prophet. The last two words can unbidden in his head, but they fit rather well. The False Prophet can scream at him all it wants, he thought with a snort. Although the thought led him to the bible found in the tomb, the necromancer that was talked about...

Alec mulled over all of the above, the day, the spiders, the voice, as he followed the others lead and made sure he was properly strapped in the helicopter with everyone else. He just wanted this day to be over with, he's thought too much.

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, hatchet, (Speed loader), rosary, glasses, 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...

"...Unda what circumstances would we havta test that?" Colt says, looking toward you nervously. "He would probably survive the fire." Apollo starts, his eyes closing somewhat menacingly. "His fingergun would at least. We could probably rebuild him from that..." "If he survives the shogoth" Artemis finishes, taking a similar facial expression to her brother as Colt looks at both of them nervously.

What do you want to do now?
-----------

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), flashlight, Ares Shrike, 162 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

"Have it your way, my son." the voice continued, with a hint of pity. "He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes. You are no good to me dead. You can not hide your thoughts from your destiny. You can not hide your thoughts from me. And you can not hide your thoughts from GOD."

You get into the helicopter, immediately lying down. You are ungodly tired. A side effect of the salve? The rest of your team following behind you, sitting down in their own seats much like you are. "Are you OK?" David asks from the driver's seat. "We have all had a long day, but you look especially tired...Ah, I guess I had better get us home fast then. Lets go." he continued, setting off. You lie back, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately, unawakened by the sound of the helicopter's yelling.

Suddenly, there is a deep pain in your sides. You wake up to find yourself in quit a different place then you had fallen asleep in, attempting and failing to yet out a yell. Your body is filled with several sensations, the fire of the salve now mixed with a new sensation. It felt that if your entire body had fallen asleep, tingling heavy sensation. You struggle to open your eyes, blurring before returning to the eagle eyes of the salve. In your vision is white thread, spiraling around you, as if you where inside the puppet you had seen earlier. The only other thing in your vision was a purple spiral, slowly moving down your head, now your whole head had been freed. You circle your eyes around with some effort, looking down the best you can, flexing your face muscles in an attempt to rid yourself of the sensation and give some room to see. You now look down. The white silk had intertwined with a purple-like silk, the purple like silk suddenly unraveling. Much more unsettling was the two amazingly hug fangs on each side of your body, going all the way through your coffin and stabbing slightly in each side, your own red flesh jutting out, holding on to you like a claw game. You look to your shoulder, the one "injured" before, seeing two large, swelled, and bloody holes. Below you, the thread had begun to unravel further, now past your torso. Suddenly, you realize you are having difficulty breathing. Normally this would make a human panic, but the salve seems to keep you angry. You seem to have a small pocket of air, which makes it simple to see your whole body, but isn't enough to keep you for much longer. Even if the fangs don't kill you. You also seem to be in the air, the fangs lifting you off of the ground. Your weapons are tied closely to your back, adding to the cramped and sweaty feeling of the cocoon.

What do you want to do now?

-----------

I keep wanting to answer your brackets, but I am pretty sure I will accidentally release information if I do.

[Rolepgeek]

"Shogoth? I dunno what that is but...Colt, can you please try? If we don't get that detonator, and I can't see no way no how else we gonna, this place'll blow, and I don't think even your fingergun'll survive that. The twins can give ya fire support, right guys?"

Patricia will patch him up afterwards, if he goes in. She is a medic, after all.