You arrive at the site of the former base appropriately equipped for that particular region. You enter the base and try to piece together what happened, and what you should do next.
Roll 1 d4
1. Abandoned
The base is abandoned. There is no sign of violence, and from open books and half eaten meals, it seems as if the leave-taking was sudden.
As evening falls, you hear someone walking around the outside of the base, and then walk away. You exit to find no one there, but in the darkness, you find a set of tracks. Following them leads you to a small camp of hunters, all dead from what looks like a bloody, violent battle. Their weapons lay in tablets beside them. As you enter the area, you may notice red eyes gleaming from the darkness, but soon it's your eyes that gleam red.
If you are on this mission with another hunter: hot, mindlessly rage overwhelms you both, causing you to summon weapons and attack one another. Only once your HP drops to 10 or below does your mind begin to clear and become your own again. If you are alone: you return to deus, mission done, the red-violent rage settling calmly into you. At some point it will trigger, and you will attack another character or even an NPC.
2. Infested
At first the base seems empty. It's quiet as you explore its corridors, signs of violence apparent on its walls, in its broken bits and pieces. Eventually you find the first body, and upon inspection, you notice a bee crawling upon them. Then a second. Then a sixth. The corpse rocks slightly, and the motion causes their chest cavity to open with a wet, sickly sound. Within them is a honeycomb structure of gore and viscera, crawling with hundreds of small bodies, busy at work. They pay you no mind and other "hives" are soon found, until you find one hunter, still freshly dead, holding what looks like a runic flamethrower, still glowing with an unused charge. As you approach it, the buzzing of the bees grows deafening as they emerge from their nests to attack you.
Bee Mob: HP: 80 Auto Damage: 5 Special: One person may use the flame thrower, using this allows you to add another die to your rolls, however, doing so increases the auto damage to 10, and does not allow you to charge your weapon. Special: If you miss twice in a row, you feel something crawl inside of you. Once you return to Deus, the infirmary will be able to remove the hive that has begun within you, possibly leaving you with a honey-comb shaped scar.
3. Taken
The base is no longer there at all. No signs of it having existed remain. The longer and further you search, the less you seem to find. The hours wear on, until the sun is finally setting and it seems like time to call it a day. When you return to the location where the base should have been, a man stands there, tall and thin, and he bears an uncanny resemblance to another hunter, one Obadiah Thompson. He is wearing a hunter's coat, golden scythes gracefully sweeping up its sides, and a red scarf covering his throat.
"You shouldn't be here," he says softly, an irritable, slightly nasal sigh of speech. A moment later he draws a knife, glowing with dark, nearly black purple runes. He twirls it absently in his hands and simply stares for a moment with a hungry violence tracing his every line.
Clone Mob: HP: 99 + regen (nearly all wounds seal up and heal over quickly, including blood) Auto Damage: 6 Special: If you do 12 or more damage with a hit, you may remove a limb. If you remove two limbs, something glowing will flash on his chest, and he will be gone.
Upon success: A door appears on the ground, leading down through the roof of the base that had somehow sunk underneath. Within are half a dozen hunters, all comatose but alive.
4. Wildcard! You make pick any of the above prompts or create your own!
beejoux
Beejoux rolled 1 4-sided dice:
1Total: 1 (1-4)
Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2014 7:17 pm
Stepping through the portal, Peyton had not been expecting to step out into what looked to be a jungle. It was humid and warm, though with the sun sinking deeper along the horizon it wasn't half as warm as it could have been. There were noises all around. The hum and chirp of insects, the call of what she thought were probably monkeys, and a literal chorus of birds winging through the trees. Though sing was a little generous. "I've always wanted to visit the rainforest." This was tossed back over her shoulder at America. "If this is the rainforest. Looks it." With lips pursed she tried to think back to everything she'd learned about south american jungles from tv, books, and movies.
This certainly looked like a rainforest.
Humming thoughtfully, she led the way from the smaller building the portal was housed in, and towards the main compound.
Inside it was quieter, the walls and doors blocking out the din of animal sounds that were only going to become more pronounced now that the sun was setting and darkness crept in beneath the canopy of trees. The base appeared to be empty, it was eerily quiet, and there were odds and ends all over that looked as if they'd simply dropped from the hands of Hunters. Whatever had caused them to leave, it had been very abrupt.
There didn't seem to be an excess of dust though, evident as Peyton drug a fingers along the top of a desk as they looked through what looked like an office. There were papers and folders scattered all over. The daintier of the pair crouched near a largish pile and picked on up, looking it over curiously.
That was when she heard it, movement, out the window. Not the soft rustling of an animal, but the more solid thumps of something bipedal. They approached, then just stopped right outside the fog-glassed window. Frozen in place, she rolled her eyes up to America, a brow lifting, asking silently if she heard it too, and if they should check it out.
lizbot
Beejoux
Wrathful Demigod
Offline
lizbot Vice Captain
No Faun
Offline
Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2014 10:32 pm
"My kinda place!" America was pleased with the location. Forested areas had always been a sort of home to her, and though she was most familiar with swamplands and Appalachia, she'd spent enough time in Deus's small jungle to feel just as comfortable there as she did in her dorm room, likely more so. This was a bit different, but a jungle was a jungle and a jungle was a forest with an extra sense of adventure floating around.
The base, however, was creepy as ********. It held a sense of life that had suddenly paused and then gone vacant. There was something about it that made America think of the pod rooms, the fixed uncertainty giving her an unsettled feeling, commonly referred to as the heebie jeebies.
The girl stilled at the noise, hand dropping to the pin at her waist as her eyes sought out Peyton's. The moon nodded once at the silent suggestion before quickly and quietly making her way to the entrance. America leaned cautiously outside to check for immediate dangers, and finding none, gave Peyton the all clear.
beejoux
Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2014 6:55 pm
Peyton's weapon being small and compact, it was easy for her to summon Warrick soundlessly as they moved stealthily back the way they'd come and out the door again after America had given the all-clear. It was quieter, or so it seemed, the insects and critters lingering close having run off or simply gone quiet as someone or something large had wandered through.
At least that was the simplest explanation.
Whatever it had been, if it had been anything, clearly wasn't still there after Pey and America had crept around the building to check.
There were tracks though, a lot of them, leading off into the thick of the jungle away from the base. Lips pursed, the Sun exchanged a questioning look with her partner before giving a very subtle roll of her shoulders and starting forward into the trees.
It was darker now. In the forty or so minutes they'd been inside looking around the sun had sunk down well beyond the tree line, and it's light barely filtered through the thick foliage. Warrick's red runes seemed almost eerily bright in the darkness as they walked, but not so enough to be of any real use. Peyton didn't have a torch, but she did have her phone, and it was out now and pointed at the ground in flashlight mode.
The tracks lead into a clearing that had once been a camp, but something has ravaged it. Tents were ripped and torn, there were supplies scattered about, a good many damaged, and in among the wreckage were bodies, some whole, some not, but all very much dead.
Hunters.
Tablets lay beside the fallen, a dozen of them easily seen.
The sight was enough to have pale eyes widening in shock, and she froze where she stood just beyond the path. "Jesus..." God, it was awful. Peyton swallowed, turning to glance at her partner, but something else caught her attention. A red glow, multiple red glowing points in pairs of two, like eyes. It sent a chill down her back, and she shuddered as she finally turned to her partner.
Lavender now a bright, awful scarlet. Red as the rage that boiled up and over suddenly and unexpectedly as a her worried grimace dissolved into a curl of glossed lips away from her teeth, a growl bubbling up into the silence.
lizbot
Beejoux
Wrathful Demigod
Offline
lizbot rolled 1 20-sided dice:
6Total: 6 (1-20)
lizbot Vice Captain
No Faun
Offline
Posted: Mon Jul 21, 2014 3:15 am
Tracking was something America generally enjoyed in a way not altogether different from the way people like Konstantin or Taym enjoyed a new book. There was a story in both, and where they preferred to follow it from the very intimate distance of the imaginations, she liked to follow it in person until she too, became part of the narrative.
This, however, was an easy enough read that is would have been boring if not for the tension of danger ahead. Unknown danger ahead. Steady and stealthy and no time to be over confident, no time to be bored, America was ready for a fight. The corpses she found instead were not a relief. Tracing out the patterns, she tried to picture the fight that had broken out, tried to see if she could find the path of the attacker.
For a moment an alarm raised, a split second of they were all the attackers, when she noticed Peyton looking at her.
Crouching, she smiled, wide and terrible and all white teeth slickly shining with saliva. A flash of brilliant gold filled the clearing, and Stryker's chain bit hard into America's clenched fists.
America turned, lips peeling back from her teeth in a cold sneer, and and as glowing eyes picked up a matching red it set off some kind of awful catalyst. This was wrong. This was all wrong. A tiny sliver of her mind screamed it at her as her grip on Warrick's rings tightened, but every other fiber of Peyton's being vibrated with the need to lash out, to attack, to kill. It didn't matter that the girl standing across from her was one of her dearest friends. It didn't matter that they were team mates. None of that matter, logic was no longer present, there was only the sudden rage bubbling over and spilling in a hot wash across her skin.
The gold flash as America summoned Stryker was like a trigger. Something inside the dainty Sun snapped, and she lunged at the other woman. It was familiar, and not. The motions were the same, but before it had been fun, training, now she wanted more than anything to dig spikes and blades into that tall, lovely body and tear her apart. Another bloody addition to the carnage that had already been scattered around them. Rip. Tear. Rend. Destroy.
There was no feinting, she was too far gone for that level of technique, too blinded by the veil of anger, like some dark taint. It was uncontrollable, like nothing she'd ever experienced before, and it made her erratic. Movements wild, feral.
<What are you doing?!>
She didn't hear his screaming in her head, it was like white noise to her as she slammed into the other girl. Turning, she drove her shoulder into that tattooed sternum, but it was the second blow that would hurt the most. A powerful uppercut to sank into the side of her waist, spikes digging, as a furious snarl tore form her lips.
The first punch hit her before she could even swing Stryker's weight, and the second slammed America's body up, off her feet. Her back hitting a nearby tree, the girl leaned into the rough bark, breathing raggedly not from exertion or pain, but from the blind rage of a vicious, mindless creature.
...this b***h this b***h this b***h this b***h right here this little b***h...
Peyton knew how to fight, even before deus, she had known how to throw a punch. Training had turned her into a well oiled machine, dangerous, lethal even. But that was at her best, when her wits were about her, and her mind unclouded.
Here and now all that training and discipline fell to the wayside. She didn't want to incopacitate America, she wanted to destroy her. To cause as much damage, as much pain, as she possibly could.
<What the ******** is wrong with you, Stop it!>
Tanned fingers reached up to grab a fistful of bright red hair, and she used that hold to slam the other girl's head back against the tree she was now pinned against. Once, twice, an evil little smile twisting up along painted lips.
Sparks shot across America's vision. Hands scrabbling at Peyton without thought or strategy, just get away come closer dig in this b***h this b***h this b***h, her fingers caught at the other girl's jaw. Thumb slipping between lips and teeth, she pulled back Peyton's little smile into a grotesque caricature of a grin.
A finger crammed between lips, hooking back into her cheek, yanked her back and away, and her hand slipped from crimson hair. A momentary reprieve for the taller girl before Peyton jerked her head away, away from that annoying grip, and moved to drive the thin blade in her hand through the buttermilk cream and freckle kissed stretch of flawless skin at America's wrist. Forcing it down, trying to pin it to the tree at her back.
Those hands had to go; bothersome things. Take care of the hands, and it would be so easy to take care of the rest.
Warrick was a howling fury in her mind, but she didn't hear it, couldn't understand it. Nothing but the annoying buzz of mosquito in her ear. Obnoxious, infuriating.
Warrick wasn't the only one howling. Head tipped back, America's voice ripped through the air, followed by a guttural whine as she tried to push back against the blade. Somewhere in her mind, Stryker was calling for her to stop, that was just going to hurt herself further, but it was cut out by painpanicRAGE that continued to act the filter of America's perceptions.
The howl that cut through the air sent the small blonde's blood boiling, or maybe that was the sing of energy that raced up the teen's spine like a she'd just touched a live wire. The demon in her mind, frenzied, was in articulate. A conflicting mass of urges and cautions, but they were all just background noise.
Wildly she reached out for that promise of energy, and when it sang through her, raised the small hairs at the back of her neck and along her arms, it pulled a triumphant cackle from that dainty beast. Laugh was too gentle a word for the harsh sound that drowned out the howls of pain.
She drove the pinned arm back, deep into the wood, but her free hand was up, and she slashed at the other woman. A furry or swipes and slices that cris-crossed America's chest.
America's free hand shot out, punching the side of the other girl's head. She should have taken a moment to wrap Stryker's chain around her wrist. She should be trying to bind and tangle. She knew how to work infighting to her advantage but that required a thought process currently beyond either girl at the moment.
Where enhanced fists and the steel fangs of daggers served Peyton well in her animal frenzy, the ball and chain were barely considered at best, a hindrance at worst.
