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 Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2014 8:17 pm
Quote:  Survey Mission 6A
Location: Paris, France
Images:: x, x
General debriefing: There are some 185 miles of tunnels beneath Paris. Most are empty, some are occupied by ancient catacombs housing remains, and some have been repurposed by humans, both the wandering homeless and those engaging in (literally) underground activity.
Recent excursions by urban explorers and gossip among tight-knit homeless communities suggest strange activity in a private, closed-off area of the catacombs, including notably bizarre behavior among the thriving populations of resident rats and some rumored disappearances. Reports have grown frequent enough to warrant an investigation.
* C class difficulty level (must have a team of three, at least one of them must be an Intermediate Hunter. This is considered a DANGEROUS mission. ) MECHANICS * MECHANICS: RP assembling a team, as necessary, before heading towards the Lighthouse portal to request a portal to Survey Mission 6A. Once there, roll a 100-sided dice and match the roleplay to the results below, as well as any reactions. Players can continue rolling until any of the players roll a BOSS ENCOUNTER, in which case the BATTLE PHASE begins. See below for battle phase mechanics. 1- 20: You find a pile of blankets and a bag of worn belongings suggesting that you've stumbled on a vagrant's sleeping place. There is a large quantity of dried, reddish brown stains, including a clearly-marked but streaked footprint and handprint on the floor, that lead to the edge of one of the underground canals, then disappear. Many of the smaller spatters are clearly the tiny pawprints of rats. 21 - 30: A rat scuttles out of a crossing in front of you. Its shadow seems... strange, in ways that you cannot explain. Should you choose for some reason to pursue it, you will find that it evades you entirely, and that your flashlight beam seems strangely less effective at penetrating the darkness in the tunnels where the rat flees. 31 - 40: A long, long line of French graffiti in black ink stretches along this corridor at shoulder height. If your character can speak French, they will find that it starts out with the lyrics to a tune currently popular on French radio, before taking a turn for the bizarre in the middle with random words (often "légion") inserted incorrectly, and then disintegrating into complete gibberish and random strings of letters before stopping suddenly mid-tunnel. 41 - 60: A bag of dried fruit and stale bread lies in a corner alongside an abandoned backpack that turns out, if examined, to contain supplies for impromptu urban exploration, but no identification. The dust is studded with dozens and dozens of rats' pawprints, but the food is entirely untouched. 61 - 80: You enter an area with a high, vaulted ceiling, full of a strange squishing, echoing sound. Something falls to the ground in the beam of your flashlight. It is a maggot. Should you decide to point your beam upwards, you will find the ceiling completely crawling with the same, all apparently hellbent on reaching small cocoon-like objects, roughly the size of a softball, strung thickly across the ceiling. 81- 100: BOSS ENCOUNTER: - The sound of scrabbling paws is faint at first, but soon grows into a din punctuated with the chatter of many, many oversized teeth. The beast that manifests is a King Rat: a writhing mass of rodents joined by the tails, so that the teeth all face outwards. This is clearly a creature of FEAR, not of nature: each rat is substantially larger than the average dog, their beady eyes gleam bloodthirsty and manic, and the entire unit moves with a cohesiveness that suggests a hivemind at work. They (or it) fully block the tunnel ahead. - BOSS MECHANICS: This boss is a mob that has collective 100 HP. Every time you attack it (following the general battle rules), you TAKE 8 damage. Make sure to tally the boss's total HP (the damage you did to it) at the bottom of your post as well as your total HP and the damage you did that round. If the boss's HP hits 0, you have defeated it, and your team can now take the portal back. After Boss defeat:When the final rat is slain, all the carcasses melt away. They leave, however, a scrap of evidence for you to take back to the labs for further research. Roll 1d4 to determine what is dropped 1. A single, normal-sized rat skeleton, bound together with striped baker's twine and sealed with a Belgian postage stamp.
2. A plastic baggie containing cigarette butts and bottlecaps. Shift the contents a bit and you will find that in the center of the litter is what appears to be a dead baby rat, hairless and pink--and still fresh.
3. What appears to be a bit of fur but on closer examination turns out to be a dessicated rat head (normal sized). Someone or something has nailed a bit of yellow legal paper to it, but all that remains is a shred.
4. A bundle of freshly-severed, normal-seeming rats' tails, bound together with what looks like an elastic baby's headband of pink lace. * 2 mission reward points for completing this successfully
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Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2014 8:21 pm
In front of the lighthouse, America was reading the mission folder, jaw tight. Dark tunnels under the city, a veritable ******** maze for them. She could do this. She could definitely do this. And she could, that was the unnerving part. The feeling that wanted to go down there, wanted to be lost in the safety of the dark. One breath. Then another. The Moon waited for the rest of her team to arrive.
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Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2014 11:27 pm
The incredible ineptitude that Mimsy continually displayed on her assigned missions, while typically purposeful, was reason enough alone for her to believe that each of her subsequent mission assignments was part of an increasingly elaborate joke. There was certainly no other valid reason that she could fathom, considering how much effort she had expended in proving her worth elsewhere, which everyone on the island had surely noticed. Her expression indicated her thoughts on exactly how humorous she found it, unimpressed and pettishly inconvenienced as she read over the mission materials on her way to the lighthouse. This only lasted until she glanced up and took note of the partner who was already waiting for her, when it was immediately replaced by a pleasant, practiced smile. "Ah, my favorite neighbor," she cordially greeted her, brandishing the folder. "I see that our prior familiarity with the subterranean environment of the basement may be to our advantage."
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Posted: Fri Oct 03, 2014 5:20 am
Lawrence arrived at the lighthouse at his usual unhurried saunter. Today he was Jan, because as things went it was generally simpler to be Jan on a mission than Chantelle, her uses lay elsewhere. He had not initially been certain who he was being sent on a mission with but when he spotted that shock of red hair that he could recognize absolutely anywhere, there was a flicker of restlessness in him. It was as close as he ever came to delight, a deep rooted desire to act, momentum and drive that were always oh so alien to him. Their other companion on this little foray was less familiar, he recognized her distinctive hair from twitter and this at least gave her a name in his thoughts. Mimsy.
"Howdy pardners." he purred, and his too-pale blue eyes lit up with well practiced friendliness as he waved his good hand, the other arm holding the folder to his side. "Fancy meeting you here missy." he said, smiling warmly at America before turning his attention to Mimsy. "And the new pleasure is certainly all mine. The name's Jan. Nice to be workin with ya."
He smiled and inclined his head to the portal. "We all ready to mosey?"
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lizbot rolled 1 100-sided dice:
36
Total: 36 (1-100)
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Posted: Fri Oct 03, 2014 5:31 am
Seeing Mimsy, America's face brightened notably. "Oh good, it'll be nice having a reliable science person on a mission for a change. If I'm gonna be down in a some huge maze of a grave, then I'd rather a good Hunter I can trust at my back and not..." Her voice trailed off as Lawrence approached. Turning to Mimsy, expression no longer pleased, she correct the information given, "His real name's Lawrence and he's a psychopath. Also kinda lazy and missing a hand, so don't rely too much on him." Taking a deep breath, America rolled her shoulders and then let it go. For as long as she could, that is. Which wasn't all that long, really. "Well then, let's roll out." As they went through the portal, she pointedly placed herself between Lawr and Mimsy, as if protecting the taller woman. Quote: 31 - 40: A long, long line of French graffiti in black ink stretches along this corridor at shoulder height. If your character can speak French, they will find that it starts out with the lyrics to a tune currently popular on French radio, before taking a turn for the bizarre in the middle with random words (often "légion") inserted incorrectly, and then disintegrating into complete gibberish and random strings of letters before stopping suddenly mid-tunnel. Squinting at the wall, America just shrugged and took a picture. It was probably just some baguette hon hon hon I surrender bullshit.
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Posted: Fri Oct 03, 2014 5:47 am
"Ah ain't none of them things cept the hand thing." he replied exasperatedly at America's estimation, shrugging his shoulders and giving Mimsy an apologetic look. "Illogical grudges." he explained before following along through the portal.
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Nothing Yet rolled 1 100-sided dice:
75
Total: 75 (1-100)
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2014 12:33 am
Hearing herself referred to as a 'reliable science person' made Mimsy look especially pleased, and she opened her mouth to appreciate this remark, stopping short when they were joined by their third member. "Salutations." Her eyes passed between the two of them as she considered what each of them said to her, adding a small piece to a puzzle that continued to remain largely incomplete. There were several instances that she seemed to be on the verge of commenting, but she removed all of those possibilities until she decided upon: "I look forward to a simple and straightforward mission, and a safe return. That seems the most logical conclusion to this, I should think." Each of them received a smile, but the grin earned by America's apparent tactical position between the two of them was hidden as soon as she realized its existence. It was gone again by the time she set foot on the other side of the portal, and she smoothed out her braids, then her coat, as she watched the redhead capture an image of something on one of the walls. With curiosity tugging at her again, she stepped forward to get a better look. Due to the fact that she had learned more culturally important languages (such as Polish), the graffiti registered as little better than gibberish from the very beginning. Were she alone, she would have stopped to painstakingly transcribe each letter by hand, exactly as it appeared, because her own hands were more trustworthy than technology monitored by an organization that she was more than a little ambivalent about. For the sake of her colleagues, she began to record it on her phone's camera, and kept it running until the scrawls ran out. There was plenty more to investigate if they had been deployed here, she presumed, and pressed onward without lingering on it. Quote: You enter an area with a high, vaulted ceiling, full of a strange squishing, echoing sound. Something falls to the ground in the beam of your flashlight. It is a maggot. Should you decide to point your beam upwards, you will find the ceiling completely crawling with the same, all apparently hellbent on reaching small cocoon-like objects, roughly the size of a softball, strung thickly across the ceiling. At the sight in front of them, Mimsy took a deep breath, which sounded as if it stifled a squeal. It was not a sound of fright or disgust, but one better suited for greeting a room full of kittens. She shifted the flashlight into her right hand, and crouched to place her hand on the ground, collecting several maggots on their way back to... As she straightened up again, she followed the path of the maggots towards the ceiling with the flashlight, tilting her head upwards to examine the organic formations it illuminated. "What do you suppose is encased within these?" she mused, gently curling her hand to cradle the quarter-sized maggots within it. "If we are to believe that these are behaving typically, it would seem to indicate that they contain a food source."
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2014 2:38 am
America glanced at the maggot, then significantly at Lawrence, then back again. Unsubtly comparing the two. Mimsy was fine with kissing bugs and the like, and seemed interested whenever it came up on Twitter, so mainly America was just kinda repulsed, but also glad the Lifer had found something to interest her. Taking out her phone again to take pictures, America found something incredibly like a dickpic in her inbox. Suddenly feeling generous indeed, she offered, "if you want, I can probably knock a few off the ceiling?"
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2014 3:04 am
The offer immediately attracted Mimsy's attention, and she nearly crushed the new companions with eager reflexes before she settled on a more restrained reaction. "Yes!" Well, slightly more restrained. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes, thank you. I would be unspeakably appreciative. I think that further study would be of great use, but my weapon is of insufficient range." Svensyl began a very lengthy rambling rant about the previous potential of his wings, but she thought it best to not mention any of this aloud, and silently agreed with him instead. The habit of speaking aloud to the Jabberwock caused her to appear especially enthusiastic - agreeing with him meant that she nodded several more times at America, before finally taking the time to urge the maggots out of her palm and into a thick vial from her pocket.
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2014 3:20 am
Stryker, his own wings snapping out, was a golden, glowing arc in the darkness. If she'd been a trainee still, America likely would have taken out a section of the ceiling, maybe brought it down on them all. But fighting for months in small spaces, in houses and classrooms that were in no way protected from the damage of her attack, had taught America a certain careful precision. It was still nothing like the infighters had, or the distance snipers. But for a weapon like her own, the skill was there and surprising in its own way. Wriggling white bodies showered down, and with them several of the 'cocoons' as well. One was still moving, if weakly. At Mimsy's feet was a large rat, curled up and wide-eyed. It does not react to being handled. A bit further away is a small head, a doll's head of ancient, cracked china staring out with a single, brilliant blue eye from a frayed mop of golden hair. It smells of rotting meat. The last two seem much the same, though closer inspection reveals them to be human in nature, rather than doll.
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Baneful rolled 1 100-sided dice:
68
Total: 68 (1-100)
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Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2014 8:00 am
America stepping between himself and Mimsy was noted as they entered the portal, and he found it oddly amusing. Dissecting the reaction he noted that it was at the simple folly of trying to physically protect anything from him when he so rarely took the physical course of action. Whatever humor remained was squarely aimed at trying to protect someone such as Mimsy, who - if twitter was to be believed - was hardly a model example of sanity.
It was always strange for Lawrence to be off of the island, to know that life relentlessly rolled on without him in it. So many stupid, stupid people without someone to avail them of their undeserving earnings. It was a tragedy. He had been to Paris a few times in the past, either passing through or stopping by in the process of wooing some overly romantic individual with the most generic of gestures. This view of Paris he felt was most apt, dark, dank and stinking, a rotting pestilence down at the bones of the city.
<> Butch said, but not with disgust but eagerness instead.
And it did. But not unpleasant, his sense of smell had become very sensitive of late, but along with this heightened state had come the more welcome side effect that smells did not offend him as much, their component parts instead became as fascinating as reading a book. It had made him crave concerning foods.
The corridor itself had a long line of writing, all of which he could understand, watching it degenerate from what appeared to be a song into strange delirium. It was not of particular interest to him - after all, mental illness was endemic among the homeless. He did not take a photo since the other two hunters seemed to have that covered and plausible deniability was always something he enjoyed maintaining.
On discovery of the maggots he wrinkled his nose at Mimsy's reaction to them, not out of disgust as it seemed to be but instead out of reflexive surprise at how readily she stuck her hand into something which could be of both supernatural origin and threatening. He had assumed that someone presumably of scientific leanings would comprehend the value of safe sampling procedure and not disturbing a natural environment but it seemed that Mimsy was another type of scientist. The kind that resulted in smallpox outbreaks and disastrous lab experiments. Of course she was in Life.
America suggested knocking some off of the roof and he silently made his way out of range of America's weapon - which had improved markedly since their spar of what felt like a very long time ago.
The rat was met with the same level of indifference he treated everything with.
<>
He of course did not, more because it would be effort rather than a moral or socially acceptable stance.
It seemed like a larder, but he made no comment on this.
"Hoo boy." he said, "That there is some pretty grim stuff. So many varmits down here."
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Posted: Mon Oct 06, 2014 4:03 am
Wide, intrigued eyes followed the weapon's path towards the ceiling, but parted from the glow to trail the cocoons as they separated from the stone and began to fall. The spray of maggots was entirely ignored, even as several landed on her hair and coat, as her greatly attention favored the potential of new discoveries. "Thank you," she repeated, now that the task was done. She offered a smile, and a maggot atop her scalp offered a thankful wiggle. Or a maggot's rendition of shaking a fist, more likely. "You have my sincere gratitude." The instant that the proper amount of appreciation had been displayed, Mimsy set to work collecting all that had fallen. She untied the scarf that was fashioned into a neat bow around her waist, and unfolded began to unfold it as she knelt to examine them one by one. The passive state of the rat was convenient, but not strange enough to raise questions; she rolled it into the end of the red fabric, and moved on to the next. This was a bit more odd, and she opted to (very temporarily) delay any efforts to figure out why it carried such a stench in favor of obtaining the other specimens. The scarf was wound around the doll head as she stretched to take the remaining two portions of broken dolls, and-- These were not dolls. Her breath caught in her throat, and a smile crept across her lips as she gently positioned them in the remaining length of the scarf. When she stood and turned to address the rest of the team, she was holding what looked very much like a swaddled baby in the crook of her arm. It also happened to look very dead. "One rodent. One section of a ceramic doll. Two partial human remains," she reported, settling the bundle against her as she gravitated towards America again. "I suppose that this means this location is both grim and, ah...'varmit'-infested, yes. While I presume that these are civilian remains, it does seem indicative of a danger that we should approach cautiously."
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lizbot rolled 1 100-sided dice:
18
Total: 18 (1-100)
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Posted: Mon Oct 06, 2014 4:19 am
The Moon had gazed on as Mimsy worked with curiosity, but stayed respectfully well out of the way of science. Idly, she picked maggots out of her braid and decided maybe tonight was going to be luxurious bath night. Just as the past two weeks had consisted of luxurious bath nights.Mimsy's information was met with a stoic nod and an internal gross. Quote: 1- 20: You find a pile of blankets and a bag of worn belongings suggesting that you've stumbled on a vagrant's sleeping place. There is a large quantity of dried, reddish brown stains, including a clearly-marked but streaked footprint and handprint on the floor, that lead to the edge of one of the underground canals, then disappear. Many of the smaller spatters are clearly the tiny pawprints of rats. They moved on, and soon found other signs of life, possibly death as well. Crouching down, America carefully went through the items with brisk but careful efficiency. Nothing telling in the belongings. Which meant the only real lead was the bloody prints. If crumbled and flaked at her touch, leading the girl to nod at the others, "Looks like this won't be any sort of rescue, but maybe we can find a body."
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Posted: Mon Oct 06, 2014 4:41 am
"Aw no." he said sadly. "A doll. Ah hope there weren't any little 'uns down here.", he shook his head. "This job never gets any easier."
They moved on, and though he kept the same lazy pace, there was a certain level of caution in the way the Death hunter moved, he was sure to keep Mimsy and America between him and anything that might potentially lie ahead of them, mostly watching America rather than the way ahead.
As they stumbled upon some new finding, once again Lawrence found himself arrested by scents. The smell of blood around the bag of belongings the first thing that caught his attention, but even the belongings themselves were an array of strange sharp human smells that cried out for further investigation. Scent was becoming synonymous with music, the same way he would listen to a pieces of orchestra music and pick apart the respective instruments, he was finding he was beginning to be able to do with olfactory matters.
He gasped at the sight, still well practiced in feigning horror and disgust. "Ah hope whatever murdered them isn't still around." he said. "Don't want you lil ladies getting hurt now."
Except he did.
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Nothing Yet rolled 1 100-sided dice:
67
Total: 67 (1-100)
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Posted: Mon Oct 06, 2014 4:48 am
A pile of blankets was simply an incomparable sight to a cavernous underground room filled with maggots and various cocooned wonders, so Mimsy waited patiently nearby as America searched through the abandoned belongings. "And if it was a child that did this?" She glanced towards Lawr, the quirk of her brow almost playful. "While this job does not get easier, it does become more interesting. It is not an unreasonable conclusion from the evidence thus far." She did not take this opportunity to call dibs on the theoretical murderling, no matter how strong the urge was. Though she did eventually collect a small scraping of the dried blood into a much smaller vial than before, she continued to seem generally disinterested in the discovery. The bar had been set pretty high. Quote: You enter an area with a high, vaulted ceiling, full of a strange squishing, echoing sound. Something falls to the ground in the beam of your flashlight. It is a maggot. Should you decide to point your beam upwards, you will find the ceiling completely crawling with the same, all apparently hellbent on reaching small cocoon-like objects, roughly the size of a softball, strung thickly across the ceiling. Fortunately for her, the next opening they passed through led to another maggot-infested room. Even in relative darkness, the walls seemed to pulse with motion as countless slimy creatures migrated towards the ceiling. It was a bit charming, she thought, if anomalous. Still cradling her corpse-doll-rat chimera of a baby, she silently followed one of the maggots with her flashlight, as if she were considering something. "This is puzzling activity," she mused, pushing her glasses back up as she turned to speak. "It may be synthetic, or encouraged by external force, but this is almost hivelike behavior nonetheless."
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