Name: Old Man Bridger
History: -Engaging First-person Monologue-
It was a cold gray September morning when I came outside to realize it had been taken. My entire collection of vintage lawn ornaments, stolen in the night! I knew it was those damned religious nuts over in the building down the road. Damned crazy scientologists over there were always parading about with rare lawn statues and such. They took my '97, my '86, even my '53 collectors' flamingo! I knew something had to be done. A man doesn't take another man's decorations. That's a capital crime in Florida, and this place sure is sunny. I strapped on my glove and picked up my gun, and headed down the road.
Items:
Leather Glove, Black Fedora, Gray Wifebeater, Pink Bathrobe, Gray Cargo Pants, Pink Bunny Slippers, ID Card, Wallet, '90s cell phone, Bottle of Whiskey, .357 S&W Magnum(2d6), Combat Knife(LW,1d6), Sasha, Celine, Mr. Smith, Eric Clapton, Joan, Bill Nye, Henderson, Little Joe (Combat Fitted)
Guns: 20
Melee: 10
Agility: 35
Knowledge: 10
Charisma: 15
Abilities:
Art of Throwing
You give a solid roundhouse kick to the glass jar, your foot connecting with a solid *Klink!*. A web of cracks begins to form out ward from your foot, soon engulfing the entire tank turning the once clear dome opaque. A scream, mechanical like tires burning rubber, comes out of the computer, long and high pitched, without stopping. The water-like liquid begins to shoot out from the container, as if it was a fountain, before breaking the container entirely. The fluid splashes all over, much of it landing on the computer causing sparks to fly out briefly. The screaming stops, leaving only you in a room with a burned out computer and the remains of a brain in the bottom of a jar.
What do you do now?
==================
Name:False: [Jane Shepard] Real: [Jade Smarke]
History: Child of two cultists, Jade was to be sacrificed to some nameless horror when she was 12. The ritual interrupted by a mysterious group, Jade saved and taken into care. Her parents riddled with bullets and bleeding behind her, Jade never looked back. Trained as a long-distance problem-solver, Jade grew up in the company of people who faced horrors for a living - she grew up silent and grim, rarely if ever cracking a smile. She spent her days on the firing range, spending high-calibre rifle rounds downrange.
She went on her first mission when she was 18. Now she's 26, and along the way she picked up a slight addiction to opiate painkillers. A guilty secret - she knows it's bad, and she has to stop, but she always takes just one more...
A tacturn, dark-skinned woman, Jade (or as she goes by, Jane Shepard) is a part of a eldritch-abomination hunting group known as the Crimson Shield. With the aid of her team, she found monsters and those who would wake them and discourage such activities. A hunt gone wrong left her alone out of the seven in one piece, the in a rest in thirty pieces between them. Technically discharged for medical leave, Jane does not seem to have left well enough alone...
Always seems to be wearing some kind of hat. No particular reason. She just likes hats.
Items: "Love Tap" OSV-96 Anti-material rifle w/ scope, bipod (folded) inside carrying case
A heavy rifle, folded inside a generic looking carrying case. The name of the rifle is written carefully on the stock in cherry red, with a lipstick style-picture of a pair of lips next to it. Cared for like an old friend, the rifle is one of the most precious things to Jade.
2d12
- carry case
A generic hard plastic case Jane keeps her rifle inside. Just a case. The rifle must be folded and the scope removed before it fits.
- Painkillers, 4 bottles of
Opiate painkillers, far in excess what any person might need.
- Casual clothing
Basic t-shirt, leather jacket and cargo trousers. Beanie hat if it's cold. Baseball cap if it's not. Generic enough to not draw undue attention.
- Wallet
A battered leather wallet. Some cash, some "work" ID in the name Jane Shepard.
- Shooting glasses
A mirrored pair of shooting glasses, designed to protect against dust and rifle discharge. Slightly scratched.
- Hidden Knife
A vicious knife, one edge serrated, hidden in the small of her back under the leather jacket. Could do someone a mischief with this, that's for sure. (Lw, 1d6)
Armor: 5
100
Guns: 50
Melee: 15 Melee was never her forte. Try as she might, she never could put on too much muscle mass.
Agility: 15
Knowledge: 20 She never bothered to learn too much - she just aimed and fired.
Charisma: 0. Quiet and unfriendly, she has a surly demeanor. She left the talking to the others.
Abilities: One shot, One kill
You successfully roll to the side, just as the beast's attack closes in on you, barley escaping. You hear the crack of the whip near your left shoulder, but don't feel the pain of an actual attack. You bring down your heavy case with both hands, dissipating most the smoke. You feel something solid under it, but can't tell how much damage you actually did. And you don't stick around to see, either.
You run, leaves and twigs breaking under your heavy steps. The kid is still trying to run, but it is obvious that even in his terrified state he is out of breath and energy, stumbling forward like a dead man. You pick him up in a single motion, carrying him like a football as you rushed toward your car. You don't hear any footsteps behind you, if those things even have footsteps...
But you manage to make it to your car, throwing the kid in the passengers seat as you take your own spot. The engine is still running, so it shouldn't be a problem to get anywhere...
But from your new vantage point you can see that the hounds are no longer there. Or if they are, they are well hidden. There is no signs of the smoke, the tongue, or the dogs. Just motionless forest. As you slam the door shut, you get a good look at your left arm. Part of your outfit had been torn away-along with a bit of flesh. There is a perfectly circular wound at the very edge of your arm, as if somebody bit off a half moon of flesh. It wasn't painful. It wasn't bleeding. It was just gone.
What do you do now?
============================
Name: Anders Lang
History: Once a bright linguistics student, Lang managed to finagle his way into an expedition to an ancient temple discovered deep in the Himalayas, and with inscriptions in an unknown script. They entered the temple and began their work, and surprisingly made great success in translating the writings, being able to largely read them within a few months. That was when they discovered a horrifying secret: that the temple was actually a seal over an ancient horror. They thought nothing of it at first, assuming that it was over a volcano or that some ancient wanderer had had a bad trip or something.
However, over the next week the expedition began suffering from mental problems. Fatigue, anxiety, eventually breakdowns. Alarmed, they decided to leave - only to find the gates sealed shut. Lang doesn't remember more than snatches of the next terrifying days, but he does remember fleeing from the final collapse into the depths of the temple, and finding a partially blocked ventilation shaft. Starting the climb. After that, nothing but waking up in the hospital. He has never found any of the others.
Lang was deeply affected by this experience, surprisingly enough; he lived in an obsessive fear of everything for some time, but then determined to end that. Decided that instead of waiting for the dark to come to him, he would go into the dark. That he would fight against that beyond understanding for both himself, and for mankind (mostly himself.) He spent years mastering those tools which would not abandon him as they had on his expedition - his hands, and his will.
Anders is driven by a fear of the Other and of powerlessness, and especially of losing his mind and identity. Not much of true death, but of effective death. He has trained in many martial arts, especially those which focus on agility and which promise the ability of punching out eldritch horrors, and of controlling his thoughts and emotions. He values knowledge, but considers it only a tool for destroying what remains unknown. His hope is to master all which humanity cannot comprehend, and if Death happens to pass that way all the better.
Items:
A close-fitting white suit, cut to allow as effective movement as possible.
A pair of cold iron gauntlets, with lots of religious, occult, and talismanic symbols written on them in silver. Lang isn't sure if any of that helps, but they sure are good for hitting things. Light melee weapons. (1d6)
A necklace with a small lens on it, which symbolizes reason and light and is also pretty cool. It always distorts light in an unusual way, which Lang has memorized exactly.
A small notebook and pencil.
Armor: 5
Guns: 0
Melee: 30
Agility: 30
Knowledge: 20
Charisma:15
Abilities: Proposal: Determinator. The character will not easily give up, whatever faces them. While not actually any tougher, they will be able to withstand more pain, more mental stress and insanity, and to see their decision clearly however confused the situation - though there is no guarantee of that choice being right.
The officer returns to his work as you return to your car. As you write on your notepad, a white van with tinted windows turns to the water front, only to be turned away by the cop who finally got some tape up. They turn out immediately afterwords, without exiting the van, heading back to town. You don't see anyone else as you head back to town, until you are almost there.
The ride to the docks was both short and scenic, taking perhaps ten minutes. However, upon arrival, you find most of the fishing docks vacant. Of course being the middle of the day, most would be out working. You do find a single, small ship that appears to be in poor condition, with its paint chipping to reveal the wood beneath it. A few men stand on deck-apparently on lunch break. Other than that ship, you can see a tourist ship in the distance- it would be in a straight line from here if not for the water. The land here curves, allowing water to enter, making a decent dock. It also gives you a good view of what the other docks are doing.
Even from this distance-you can see a group of people lining up for a relatively large and luxurious ship, a small yacht. It is the kind of ship tourist often go on, mostly for diving and to see the coral. There are several other ships, unlike the fishing vessels they were tied tight to the dock. Apparently the lack of people outside today meant bad things for the tourism industry.
What do you do?
Author
Topic: Death May Die- Modern Eldritch Action! Room for one more! (Read 8438 times)