Seeing that his last foe has been incapacitated, Alexander raises his new weapon in front of his helmet, inspecting the freshly-bloodied head. "A strange tool. The weight makes it unwieldy, and adds little. Hmmf."
He then slams it down point-first into the unconscious chief's throat, before picking his machete back up, along with Doga's normal spear.
"I will leave the looting to you." is all he says before he walks to the exit of the cave.
You casually turn the weighty spear over in your hands and half-stab, half-drop into the demon's ample neck. The result is a satisfying crunch and arterial spray, the blood seeming to twist up and around the vertical spear's shaft, coating it utterly.
That done, you retrieve your machete and one of the spears, resting the latter on your shoulder. Past the wounded dogthing quietly wallowing in agony in the corner, and up the stairs into the light of the surface.
You are promptly unloaded from memory and presented with a loading screen. 0%.
Pick up wrapped giftbox and my dagger, proceed to search for cool stuff
You retrieve your dagger and take the gift box.
Giftwrapped Box:
A small cardstock box wrapped in black and white striped wrapping paper affixed with scotch tape, topped with a red ribbon. Tacky. It feels light.[unknown]
Loot from this fight that's not yet accounted for includes:
2 loincloths
1 very bloodsoaked white robe
1 iron-tipped spear
1 odd spear with a metal barrel attached
1 length of rope
1 empty, used syringe
Whether any of that counts as cool stuff is quite honestly a matter of opinion that I'll leave you to discover.
Blood, blood, blood!
To the cheery tune of Blood blood blood, Rakiit will start lapping up the blood of the demon that was cowering in the corner.
Blood, blood-You home in on the warm, extremely fresh corpse and immediately sink your fangs into the biggest vein your augmented vision can detect.
"bloo-" *crunch* *slurp* "-ood! Blood! Bl-"While your chant starts out enthusiastic, you get a bit sidetracked. Soon it's forgotten, replaced by an inhuman predatory instinct. You bite deeper, farther into the blood, and rip the flesh free in your sharp, carnivorous teeth. You swallow the meat just to get out of the way faster, only to bite down deeper, seeking the demon's waning blood. before too long the blood is forgotten as well and you gorge yourself on the sweet flesh of the ex-demon. Ripping, tearing, snarling, crunching through bones and swallowing the marrow.
Back at the lab you were few mostly bland cereal and overcooked vegetables, with an occasional piece of raw meat. Just to "test your animalistic adaptations", they said. You thought that the meat was disgusting, but tended to end up eating it anyway.
Eventually the human part of your psyche catches up with what you're eating and you feel like you should stop. You don't really want to, though. Besides, you're
hungry.
[-2 Focus: Cognitive Dissonance. Rakiit is "incapacitated" due to negative Focus.]
The Scribe is overwhelmed by... Pity.
Pity that they never stood a chance. They seemed to be pack beasts, and for only one of them to be left alive, if it indeed did survive, would be cruel. If there were other packs, they would kill a loner from another group on sight, as that was the law of scent! He could not merely leave this one to heal on her own.
He was also a creepy, mentally unstable old man with some... Ideas.
"Oh, I'm quite sorry my dear, it was merely a reaction." he purrs soothingly, as he goes about, gathering the fresh Clay from the fresh corpses. If an attempted gather would be on a non-corpse that isn't Dogic, stab it dead, then Gather.
He then goes to the gutless dog-demon and banks on "Man's best friend, even in Hell," by using that fresh clay on her.
"Stay still for me... What is your name?"
Whilst applying Clay to his victim/patient, the Scribe casually adjusts so he's blocking their view of the cat-person casually lapping at the demon's ally's blood.
[Chief: 16. Doga: 14.]
You shred apart the head demon corpse with ease, completely rendering it down into a neat pile of clay. The next one you carefully pull apart, paying close attention to how the demonic flesh strands and loses coloration as you stretch it out.
The final remaining corpse... You correctly deduce that your extremities might be endangered if you tried the pry it from that catlike woman. You may be insane, deranged, delirious, and dangerous, but you certainly can recognize... well, we get the picture.
[+6 Clay]
You approach the wounded demon. After you speak, she rotates he head to an odd position and stares at you with her right eye. Just stares, with an expression that you are not equipped to understand. She starts to breathe faster and slowly begins to open her jaw until it's nearly vertical. The joint in her jaw makes an audible click once it's fully open.
Of course you're a creepy unstable old man with
ideas so you decide to heal her anyway. Holding your clump of Clay, you very carefully inch closer, tell her to hold still in the most soothing creepy madman voice you can, and press it into the wound.
The implanted piece of Clay glows softly white, then suddenly begins to form fibers which attach themselves to the edges of the wound, quickly becoming a solid patch. The glow fades, revealing seemingly natural fur and skin. It is as if the wound never existed.
[-1 Clay]
Jaw still held open, the demon inhales sharply and places one hand on the spear laying on the stone floor next to her. She looks at you, still unmoving.
Name: Alexander Prekar
Description: A tall and strong man, wearing simple cloth garments. Has a golden cross hanging around his neck on a chain.
Method of death: He was assassinated while asleep, during the crusades.
Demon: He always believes he is absolutely in the right, and has trouble understanding other people, especially those who disagree with him. His is the only way, and all others will lead to fire.
Never-Die: 3
Pay-Attention: 7
Go-Through: 3
Move-Quick: 4
Keep-Hold: 6
Accuracy: -2
Melee: +3
Agility: -2
Poise: +0
Resistance: +3
Medical: -2
Extraction: -2
Determination: 3/3
Focus: 7/7
Stamina: 0/0
Speed: 4/4
Corruption: 0/6
Status: Fine!
Weapon: Machete
Armor: Plate armor
Weight: 3
Inventory:
Machete: A good blade. It has sufficed for hacking apart the foul creatures that lurk here.
[melee: lethal/AP3 pain4]
[hit+1]
[parry+2]
[weight1]
[1hand]
Doga Spear: A crude, if metal-tipped spear once wielded a a doglike demon.
[melee: lethal/AP3 pain2]
[thrown: lethal/AP2 pain2 short4 long8 focus2]
[reach]
[parry+1]
[weight1]
Plate Armor: Steel armor of a crusader. The helmet has a flat top rather than a dome, unlike many armors.
[armor4]
[weight1]
[noise+2]
Cross Pendant: A little golden cross on a chain, symbolizing one's faith, and providing protection from unholy forces.
[unknown]
Clay x1: Payment for services rendered. Heals wounds, supposedly.
[removes pain]
[cures injury]
Name: Rakiit Amph
Description: A 6 foot tall cat girl covered in surgical scars and injection ports. short brown cat ears and similarly brown tail. Wearing a ragged guard uniform with a gaping hole in the abdomen. She's holding an LMG protectively to her chest
Method of death: Cardiac arrest from massive stimulant overdose sustained while escaping the lab
Demon: trouble trusting people, hyper active, somewhat unstable. Unsure of purpose.
Never-Die: 6
Pay-Attention: 3
Go-Through: 3
Move-Quick: 8
Keep-Hold: 3
Accuracy: +1
Melee: -2 +2
Agility: +5
Poise: -2
Resistance: -2
Medical: +0
Extraction: -2
Cat Ears and Whiskers (+2 Perception)
Claws (lethal/AP2 pain4)
Fluffy Tail (cute)
Determination: 6/6
Focus: -2/3
Stamina: 0/0
Speed: 8/8
Corruption: 0/3
Bloodlust: 3 Focus
Cognitive Dissonance: 2 Focus
Status: Fine
Weapon: LMG
Armor: Kevlar Vest
Weight: 3
Inventory:
LMG: Rakiit's very favorite gun. It's got some scratches and mud on it.
[melee: pain3]
[Ranged: lethal/AP3 pain2 min4 short12 long150 snap20 focus1/2]
[ammo ~100/200]
[weight3]
Kevlar Vest: Vest which stops bullets. Being shot at remains inadvisable.
[armor2]
Egg?: Off-white baseball sized sphere. Tastiness not tested.
[unknown]
Name: "I... I've forgotten. Many call me 'The Scribe,' though I know that is incomplete. In whispers, I am 'The Mad Scribe.'"
Description: A withered old man in a tattered robe
Method of death: Starvation, locked in his tower while he worked on his latest tale of another corrupted realm, which he still clutches.
Demon: Isolation, as well as the madness that follows when you have visions of other, twisted planes.
Never-Die: 5
Pay-Attention: 7
Go-Through: 3
Move-Quick: 5
Keep-Hold: 3
Accuracy: -2
Melee: -2
Agility: +0
Poise: +0
Resistance: +2
Medical: -2
Extraction: +2
Werekitten
Determination: 4/5
Focus: 7/7
Stamina: 1/1
Speed: 5/5
Corruption: 0/3
Status: "Fine"
Weapon: +2 Shotgun of Weirdness
Armor: None
Weight: 2
Inventory:
"Hell's Blessing": "The most brutal, edgy, oversized keychain ever."
[melee: lethal]
[ranged: lethal/AP2 pain5 min2 short5 long8 snap38 focus2/3]
[hit+2]
[ammo 2/2]
[weight2]
[1hand]
Shells x7: The food that shotguns need to work their magic.
Mad Scribe's Last Novel: A leather-bound tome with a simple image of a cat on the cover. Nobody's quite sure what the pages hold.
[unknown]
Clay x10: Liberated from the body of some demon. Likely to do... something.
[removes pain]
[cures injury]
Name: Demetrius
Description: Rather athletic bearded Macedonian man in white tunic and leather cloak.
Method of death: Drowned when ship he captained was turned over by giant wave on its way to Alexandria.
Demon: Obsessed with sinking things.
Never-Die: 5
Pay-Attention: 9
Go-Through: 3
Move-Quick: 3
Keep-Hold: 3
Accuracy: -2
Melee: +2
Agility: +0
Poise: -2
Resistance: +0
Medical: +0
Extraction: +0
Determination: 5/5
Focus: 9/9
Stamina: 2/2
Speed: 3/3
Corruption: 0/3
Status: Fine.
Weapon: Short sword
Armor: none
Weight: 1
Inventory:
Short Sword: A bronze short sword with a slight curve to it. Heavy and cheaply made, but effective.
[melee: lethal/AP3 pain4]
[hit+2]
[parry+1]
[weight1]
[1hand]
Olive Oil: Has a thousand uses! Like, uh, bathing yourself?
[oily]
Adamantine Dagger: Sharp. Very very very sharp.
[melee: lethal]
[thrown: lethal/AP5 short0 long10 focus2]
[parry+1]
[1hand]
Giftwrapped Box: A small cardstock box wrapped in black and white striped wrapping paper affixed with scotch tape, topped with a red ribbon. Tacky. It feels light.
[unknown]
Author
Topic: Tactical Hell: ... (Read 35768 times)