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[piecewise]

We've gotten to one town and lost 60% of the original members! This has a higher mortality rate then ER!

Ho-lee craaap

Toss the rod in my bag and search for my nitro fuel can with my left hand, while watching around carefully with pistol in the right. Then take a gulp to sharpen senses and empower self a little for a short while, and rush towards car, jump in driver's seat, start it and get the fuck out of Slenceville, heading North down Hellway 888

((I've got super-bad feeling about this. Bone thieves must be coming from south, but it seems they move rather slow. Assuming they started invasion immediately after the treaty was broken by the party via escaping the tourist trap, it took them quite a while to go through town. If they arrived with the noises, we're fucked.))

Oh for FUCK'S sake I thought we escaped you fuckers!

Dive out the other side of the desk, the way hyena man went. Then run fast as I can for the nearest exit to the building, away from the bone thieves. Get to the fucking jeep right stat now.

I could've sworn I posted my actions days ago. Sorry for holding people up.

Run as fast as my wonky legs can carry me, all the way to the jeep. Emitting scream-cackles as I go.

Get outside and get to the damn jeep asap. Stab anything hostile that gets in my way via liberal use of needles.

John takes the spike, which is at least 2 feet long I'll remind you, and sort of wedges it into his bag just well enough that it will hold for a short sprint. He takes a gulp of nitro fuel and bounces on his toes for a few seconds, psyching himself up, before vaulting the counter, sprinting through the diner, shoulder checking the door open and charging over to the jeep. He whips his bag into the back seat and jumps into the divers seat, switching the pistol to his left hand as he starts up the jeep. The engine chugs for a moment before roaring into action and the tires peel out against the blacktop for an instant and then gain traction. John lays on the horn as the car starts to move and shouts, nigh unintelligibly, for his comrades to join him, lest he leave them behind. His version, however, included a great deal more swearing.

Xan and his newly made Hyena Acquaintance both exit the town hall, the struggling shape of Golgon wrestling with a Bone Thief behind them, and Tarmac bursts from the junk shop. John slows just enough to allow the other souls to scramble into the moving vehicle before stomping on the gas and squealing around the corner and on to HELLWAY 888. The jeep starts to gain respectable speed on the straight stretch of road, climbing towards 100 MPH on ill-repaired country blacktop. Behind them, however, pale shapes are giving chase. In the rear view mirror john can just barely make them out, semi-translucent bone thieves seemingly phasing into and out of existence in short leaps, moving forward at high speed while appearing to stand perfectly still.

[Egan_BW]

Could someone remind me of the waitlist?

[piecewise]

Could someone remind me of the waitlist?

Code: [Select]

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Corsair
Name: Haast
Soul: Was king of all grizzly bears

Incarnation: Has now become a fire breathing emperor penguin. Still talks like a bear though.

What You're good at:
-Pecking people
-Using his flame-breath
-Catching fish

What you're bad at:
-Any form of complex fine manipulation, like keypads and automatic firearms

Your Hopes: To find and eat the ultimate fish.

Your Fears: A world without fish

What you need to survive:  Fish/seafood , preferably flame grilled. Can survive without fish for a week but then must gorge himself

What's in your pockets: A fish, specifically salmon

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Harry Baldman
Name: Mr. Bird

Soul: Montgomery Merriwether Munroe, the virtually unknown butler/comfort killer/butler (he's more of a butler than a comfort killer, you see), a joyfully amoral individual who offered his services to a great many rich widows in his life, and only killed, like, three of them (a record low among his peers) to get some money out of it when he didn't have any other ideas. He died at the age of 89 in his sleep after consuming an almost legendary amount of prescription medicine and hard liquor (after about six hours of... extreme exertion for someone his age), surrounded on his deathbed by much younger, better-looking women in a high-class establishment of considerable ill repute. They inherited a considerable portion of his estate, as outlined in his will written earlier that week.

Incarnation: Mr. Bird looks almost exactly like a bearded vulture, to be perfectly honest, except at the end of his wings one can see small, clawed fingers that lead one to suspect he may secretly be some kind of dinosaur, disregarding the obvious fact that birds are, in fact, dinosaurs. For some reason he looks very expensive.

What you're good at: flying, extracting nutrients from tough bones, high altitude survival (physiologically speaking - if that's not specific enough, let's say resistance to oxygen deprivation in thinner than average air).

What you're bad at: blending in or looking inconspicuous, unless it's in a zoo.

Your Hopes: to chew on the bones of a dead god and extract their wonderful marrow, to soar to the highest mountains and to check if he can perhaps sire a brood in this strange afterlife. There has to be another bearded vulture around here somewhere, right? You may notice that Mr. Munroe has taken a great liking to his new form.

Your Fears: being old and useless, finding nothing in his search for greater thrills, having to butle again for some old hag until she kicks off or, ugh, he has to poison her for money.

What you need to survive: at least some bones with their marrow left untouched by other carrion eaters, but any old meat is probably fine. Water requirements are minimal.

What's in your pockets: he's got some bones he just broke open and then ate whole. They were his last good bones (a product of rather fine room service, he might add). He could probably produce them within the next day or so if he were appropriately motivated. He hasn't really got any pockets, though, though the option of putting some on his body is becoming increasingly appealing.


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Pancaek

Name: Flamengo John
Soul: John was just a party animal, a man who really really loved to party. No nightclub was safe from him on friday night, baby.
Incarnation:A fully articulate mannequin. Male model, plain wood.
What You're good at: Dancing
What you're bad at: Being sneaky. It's all about being seen, baby!
Your Hopes: My own personal heaven is a never ending party.
Your Fears: Being unable to move.
What you need to survive: A new set of clothes every so often. Being seen in the same outfit too many times isn't good for you spiritual health, baby!
What's in your pockets: Aviator sunglasses, pack of cigs, swirly straw.

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Toaster
Name:  Dave.  Just Dave.
Soul:  A sailor from late 1600s Earth.  He was saving up to emigrate to this New World he had heard so much about, but got drunk and fell off the boat late one night shortly after leaving port off the coast of Spain.  As such, he's been here a while, and had to incarnate again several times.
Incarnation:  Currently he's a chubby dude with no hair anywhere, and odd purple tattoos where the hair on his head should be.  He also has patchy markings elsewhere to replace hair, as if someone was bored when making his physical manifestation.
What You're Good At:  Tying ropes, as befitting a sailor.  Excellent sea legs, so can balance on anything moving.
What You're Bad At:  Resisting a drink... or many of the similar intoxicants available.  Responsible for at least half of his "deaths" besides his first one.
Your Hopes:  Dave would really just like to find a nice island paradise where he could settle down and drink fancy rum all day.  Not that cheap headache in a bottle crap- the good stuff that nobility gets.
Your Fears:  Dave always believed in sea monsters, and nothing he's seen here has convinced him otherwise.  He's drowned once and really didn't care for it.  And tentacles still give him the willies.
What you need to survive:  He's human.  You know the drill.
What's in your pockets:  A flathead screwdriver.
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Fillipk
Name: Rocky

Soul: a rock from the Rocky Mountains, specifically a large boulder near the peak

Incarnation: a round rock about the size of a bowling ball, can roll on his own power but has no arms or legs, has a mouth and can speak though, it's voice is deep and rumbly, like the earth.

What You're Good At: being heavy, being round, bowling

What You're bad at: moving up stairs, rock and roll music

Your Hopes: to get to the peak of the tallest mountain and be one of its rocks

Your Fears: Falling and breaking apart (it's how he died)

What You Need To Survive: Earth, he needs to touch the ground at least once a day

What Is In Your Pockets: pockets? What are these things called pockets
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Wolfkit
Soul: A folding pocket knife that broke
Incarnation: A fox
Good at: Biting, Stabbing
Bad at: Self control, First aid
Wants: To kill the gods
Afraid of: Being damaged again
Inventory: A knife blade on a collar
Needs: To injure people
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Egan
Name: HurHuum-HurRumm

Soul: A cyborg pop singer by the name 'Yellow Ones' from the year 2378. She was kidnapped and murdered by a crazed fan.

Incarnation:  A hovering glass sphere. It pulses with an internal light and contains a human brain. The sphere is capable of emitting a sound like humming but cannot speak. it can't see and instead uses echolocation. as well, it can use a weak telekinetic force, just enough to lift itself and some small objects.

What You're good at: Singing.

What you're bad at: Combat and heavy lifting.

Your Hopes: To return to a normal life with normal people, or at the least to stop reincarnating and return to the quantum flux from which everything flows.

Your Fears: Immortality. to be trapped in a helpless body and left forever. To be stuck in a braincase with no connection to the outside world. She read "I have no mouth and I must scream" and had nightmares for weeks.

What you need to survive: The sphere is powered by sound. if it goes for longer then about two days without being exposed to loud noises, it will begin to lose power. Shards or pieces of glass can be used to repair scratches and cracks in the sphere.

What's in it's pocketses: A pencil and notepad. The pencil needs sharpening and the notepad has only 12 pages left.
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Yoink
Name: Hairy Dave.
Soul: Ratical the small, brownish-coloured pet rat.
Thought he was lucky to escape the hell of that pet store cage, where his dozens of siblings would scramble over each other fighting for the food given to them by the Hand of Their God, slurping water from the dreadfully inconvenient pipe sticking through the bars, and being terrorized by the looming faces of human children leering at them.
If only he'd known his fate was to be owned by a pair of the most evil little brats ever to be allowed a pet, he might have ended it there.
Poor Ratical was, apart from his somewhat amusing name, treated most poorly indeed. In the few weeks from when he was purchased to when he went down in the septic ocean aboard the S.S. toilet paper, he was tormented mostly daily by the brother-sister pair he belonged to. Swung about by the tail, poked with toothpicks, dangled above their (also rather mistreated) pet cat, painted with facepaint/marker pens... you name it, he suffered it.
Incarnation: A large, brutish and hairy human. Hulking shoulders, wild eyes beneath a mop of hair, large teeth that occasionally flash through a beard. Seems to be male, but it's hard to tell through all the long, greasy brownish hair. Basically a proto-sasquatch. Wears nothing but a tattered blue denim vest festooned with safety pins and fabric patches bearing various logos and designs.
What You're good at: Chewing through things with his big-ass teeth, detecting things via scent and performing acrobatic feats unexpected from creatures of his size.
What you're bad at: Remaining calm under pressure, speaking in coherent sentences, driving motor vehicles.
Your Hopes: Basically, he came to party down. And possibly breed like a proverbial rodent. Oh and eat a shitton of food, preferably cheese (because he always wondered why the rodents in cartoons were so damn obsessed with the stuff. It must be good, right?) and/or human babies.
Your Fears: Human children, especially (but not only) ones larger than himself. Loud noises.
What you need to survive: Food and drink. Boring and mundane, but alas.
What's in your pockets: A still-boxed Action Man figurine, fully poseable and packaged with a large and varied assortment of accessories. Also half a chocolate bar and a chipped plastic guitar pick.
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Wipeout1024
Name: Anna Windstrom
Soul: Overbearing pageant mom, who finally got her comeuppance.
Anna, as a young child wanted to be a beauty queen, but her mother said she was too ugly to become one. Fueled by this, she instead later forced her daughter to become one, and was extremely controlling. However, she died at 45, in a case of somewhat karmic revenge, as her daughter killed her, in a fit of rage.
Incarnation: A middle-aged woman, who has bleached blonde hair. Her face has also been heavily been altered through plastic surgery, and most of her body has been too. She wears a cardigan and a fancy undershirt, jeans, and expensive high heels. She is also wearing diamond earrings.
What You're good at:
1. Leadership- Constantly bossing around her daughter, has given her experience at taking charge of others, even if her leadership style tends to be dictatorial.
2. Manipulation- She is quite good at emotionally manipulating others, to get them to do her bidding.
3. Hiding
What you're bad at: She is basically a Megalomaniac, so she nearly has to be constantly in control, or she will get angry.
Your Hopes: She hopes to become famous, for anything. She wants to be known as a great person, even if she probably actually isn't.
Your Fears: She is afraid of having no control, not being able to control others, and basically, being powerless.
What you need to survive: She needs food and drink, but she can also feed on the crushed dreams of others.
What's in your pockets: She has her phone, and make-up.
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The Froggy Ninja
Name: Bec
Soul: Becquerel
Incarnation: GCat
What You're good at: Teleporting, being a good dog! (the good dog is me!)
What you're bad at: Not getting mind controlled by psychic wimpy peasants.
Your Hopes: Chase the cats! Haz yums! Find Jade! Get belly rubs!
Your Fears: Bluh Bluh huge fish, glowing frogs.
What you need to survive: Meat and/or radioactive materials. (I assume that they have similar diets. Plus even if they don't Bec's a big ol' dummy dumb and wouldn't realize it.)
What's in your pockets: Couch
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AoshimaMichio
Name: Ryan.
Soul: Three week old baby who was slaughtered and eaten by his slightly insane mother shortly after nuclear fallout.
Incarnation: Baby Deathclaw. Its claws work better for stabbing than slashing.
What You're good at: Convince people of being innocent, because, you know, innocent baby? Stabbing because DEATHCLAW!
What you're bad at: Comprehending anything complex because still a baby. Tends to break things in his hands because a fucking DEATHCLAW!
Your Hopes: To experience everything humanity has to offer.
Your Fears: Mothers. Insane people. Nukes.
What you need to survive: MEAT!
What's in your pockets: Someone's torn off arm, including sleek wrist watch and sleeve.
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[Egan_BW]

*grumble grumble* Ok just be sure to kill them off quickly. 

[DoctorMcTaalik]

((Are we assuming the bone vampires got the gorilla guy?))

[Xantalos]

If any of the bone theives get too close, set them on fire by any means necessary that don't damage myself, the meatshields with me, or the car.

Also check whether I got my arm bones thanks to Golgon's brave sacrifice.

[Beirus]

"Mind if I borrow that gun? It'll be hard to shoot and drive."

If given the gun, shoot Bone thieves in range. If they get too close, stab them with the biggest needle I have, like that one in that one guy's bag that he pulled out of that sphere.

[Toaster]

((PW: I edited my sheet a bit.))

[Comrade P.]

((Wooo! I'm not dead!))

"Mind if I borrow that gun? It'll be hard to shoot and drive."

- That's no use, they seem to phase in and out of existence. There is a sharp rod in my bag on the backseat, take it and stab if one of them comes close to you with it.

[piecewise]

((Are we assuming the bone vampires got the gorilla guy?))

Well, you wanna go back into that town to look?

Now, if you guys drive well enough you can avoid this possible fight. Lets see of John is on his driving game today.
[2]
Welp.

If any of the bone theives get too close, set them on fire by any means necessary that don't damage myself, the meatshields with me, or the car.

Also check whether I got my arm bones thanks to Golgon's brave sacrifice.

Yeah, you got your arm bones back. Not sure what you're gonna do with them, since they won't just go back into your arm. Oh well, a trophy at least.

"Mind if I borrow that gun? It'll be hard to shoot and drive."

If given the gun, shoot Bone thieves in range. If they get too close, stab them with the biggest needle I have, like that one in that one guy's bag that he pulled out of that sphere.

Xan [1]
Tarmac [3]

Xan hops the rear seat and crouches down in the trunk. He grabs one of the containers of booze, tears off some of his robe and jams it into the top of the bottle, creating a makeshift Molotov cocktail.  However, when he tries to light it, his lighter won't cooperate. It just sits there, spitting sparks anemically  as the Bone Thieves get closer. Tarmac abandons his syringes for the big spike and takes up position next to xan, waving the stabbing implement around with righteous fury. The jeep passes the final outlying buildings and is back into the lane of trees when the first bone thief reaches it. The creature just fades into existence with its hands firmly wrapped around the jeep's roll cage. The entire vehicle leans backwards, the front tires almost coming off the ground as the weight of the beast seems to come into existence with it. Tarmac thrusts his spike towards the creature but it goes incorporeal before he can land the blow. It appears again moments later, this time standing on top of the roll cage, up near John.

[Comrade P.]

- Get this thing outta here or we are crashing into something!

((Action movies logic GO!))

Send car drifting sideways to make the thing lose balance and fall off the car. If it does fall off the car, shoot it until it's magazine is empty or it's obviously dead.

[Xantalos]

Keep trying to make the damn molotov! If any bone thieves get too close to me without me having made the cocktail, try the fireball trick with spitting the booze and the lighter again.
If the lighter doesn't wanna work again, yell incoherently at it/try igniting the booze with my mind or something. Just light it on fire by any means necessary.
Also hit the thieves with the booze bottle if they come too close and the bottle ain't lit.

((CONTINGENCIIIIES))

[Beirus]

Stab stab stabbity  the bone thieves that get too close.

[piecewise]

Gonna wait a bit for doc, since every little bit of help, helps.

[DoctorMcTaalik]

Fight off bone thieves with my deer shank, of course.