Poor Crow. He hasn't been able to get even a few hours of shut eye without jolting up from gouging out one of his eyes over and over again. He has used needles, the hilt of his sword, the blade of his sword, fingers, other people's fingers, the sharp end of a screw driver, even a box of toothpicks once, each in more and more creatively gruesome ways. Somehow, even in dreams, the procedure hurts more and more, every time.
He has no doubt the eye of Odin is calling to him, and it is getting harder and harder to resist.
Meanwhile, the rest of you in the container are noticing Crow waking up screaming in an hour or so everytime he tries to sleep. The whole ordeal is wearing on folks.
At this point, the convoy is ready to slow down and make a driver change.
The rented muscle can observe two miles east that they are coming upon some kind of encampment. Other than Crow, all remains copacetic. The Air Station following the Convoy does not report any observation of approaching enemies.
Crow bolts up right, the covers slipping to the padded floor. Wiping cold sweat from his brow he cares not who sees his scarred naked form.
In the lavatory he splashes himself with tepid water. As much to rinse the sweat as to wipe away the growing fatigue. Nothing seemed to help. Tapping into his magic or psionics to avoid sleep only worsened the effects.
He looked at his reflection in the small mirror, half expecting to see blood and a missing eye. Instead he saw himself, haggard and worn. Both eyes blood shot and shadowed by purple bags.
Face a twisting in rage, Crow slams his fist into the mirror. Blood dripping from his knuckle to pool on the plastic sink.
"Enough of this" he snarls at his shattered reflection.
Exiting the stall, Crow stumbles to his bunk. Throwing on the same sweaty robes he'd been wearing the day before. He jams his hands into his pockets, desperate for a smoke. His fingers instead brushing something smooth and cool to the touch. A chill runs down his spine, followed by an emotion he rarely felt these days, fear.
Wrapping his fingers around the object, he hesitantly withdraws it. Panic threatens to overtake him as he sees a small, ornamental glass eye. The iris tinged with the faint reflection of his own blood.
Rage, confusion, and terror bubble up to the surface, as he chokes down a scream tearing at his throat for release.
Falling to his knees, his chest heaving with pain and exhaustion. His mind reliving all the nightmares of the past few days. Thoughts solely on the ornamental eye in his blood smeared hand.
"Maybe, this is what it wants. If I do this, then, maybe..... the dreams will end. Either way I'm done with this."
With the practiced ease of familiarity, Crow hooks his thumb, placing it at the corner of his right eye. The pressure slowly building as he begins to force his thumb deeper, widening the gap. With a sharp tug he pulls the eye ball free. Tearing the nerve with his fingers nails and letting the eye drop to the floor. Gritting his teeth, Crow places the glass eye into the ruined socket. Feeling a cooling sensation flood the area, but the pain itself, persists.
Taking a few hesitant blinks, Crow opens his eyes and finds his vision intact. Enhanced even. The auras of his comrades becoming a constant pulsing hue around each of them.
"Interesting"
Stumbling back to his bunk, Crow will collapse on the foam mattress. Blood staining the sheets and pillow.
Sixth sense (2)
(+2 parry, +3 dodge, +6 initiative)
Impervious to Energy (indefinite)
ISP:30/30
*PPE:116/116
*20/20 vision, Nightvision (600', constant, no cost)), See Aura (constant, no cost), See the Invisible (constant, no cost)
*MK Armour: H:40/ A:30/ L:45/ B:70
*Sense Ley Line: 40 miles. 50% chance
*Sense Ley Line Nexus: 60%
*Sense a Rift: 90 miles
*See Magic Energy: The mage sees magic energy/P.P.E. radiating from people, creatures, objects, and areas, as a faint aura
whenever more than 20 P.P.E. points are present. Range: Line of sight, about 1,000ft.
*Sense Magic in Use: The expenditure of magic in the form of a spell, Rifting, or Techno-Wizardry can be felt, if not seen, up
to 400ft
(Opponents must roll to save vs horror factor whenever the Gunslinger makes a serious threat (stop or else ... ) and again if and when he first draws his weapon on a character. Likewise, those who attack a Gunslinger must roll to save vs Horror Factor whenever facing the Gunslinger in a one-on-one showdown, duel, or shootout, and whenever an opponent makes his first move to attack the Gunslinger, even if the gunslinger isn't aware the character plans to attack.
+6 to all saves
See Invisible 200 ft
Integrated Sensor Pod - NE Armor
360° scanning capability
Allows user to dodge all attack, even those from behind and/or surprise
Mini-Radar/Sonar System
Can track up to 12 targets
Range: 2 miles
Optics Enhancements
Passive Night Vision: 3,000'
Telescopic Vision (up to 20x Magnification): 1 mile
Macro-Lens (6x Magnification)
Thermo-Imager: 2,000'
+50% to all Modern Weapon Ranges
Toxins are only 50% effective and last for 50% of listed duration.
Protection from Undead: Holds undead at bay & makes wielder impervious to vampire's hypnotic gaze/mind control.
It's not the first escort Wolf has participated in, however it is the first time where he was hired specifically to be ambushed. Wolf keeps his wits about his as part of the guard force. Can't make them think we are completely incompetent...even though we know something is going to attack us? I still think this is a complete setup...Maybe. But I'm not so sure. I mean why hire us if it's just a setup, what would the poupous be?...To kill you...I'm not that well known...not yet, but you will be. and I know there will be more coming to kill you in the future...Aren't you just a bundle of joy.
Wolf remains with the convoy while riding his horse Dusty. Wolf, used to long rides in the saddle, maintains his position while actively observing his surroundings. He doesn't make frivols radio calls just to fill the air with sound. Wolf maintains his position in keeping with the instructions he was given at the outset of the job.
Wolf does see the issues with Crow through the eyes of his two wolves. Wolf frowns as he watches as Crow struggles to sleep in the container and wakes up screaming. Wolf taps a few keys into his control gauntlet and goes back to watching his sector.
Detect Ambush
1d100: [6] = 6/60%
As Crow crawls back from the dirty job of tearing out his own eye, Shadow's head moves and tracks the man as he walks back to his bed. Shadow notes the blood running from his face. A few moments after Crow lays down and his blood stains the mattress, Shadow moves over to him. In a very gentle moment, Shadow lays his head on Crow's arm to help comfort him as one might expect from a real dog. Despite of the massive rail gun on his back, the combat bot has moved over to provide comfort to one who seems to be suffering.
The difference between transport work and being a Black Market Enforcer was the lack of activity. The waiting and anticipation of someone attacking them gnawed at Meg’s stomach. It was not a case of nerves, but the need for excitement. For her to chew on a few faces and show them what a massive mistake they made in hitting these convoys. She had to give them props for their audacity, but that would only go so far when it comes time to settle the account.
She learn the ins and outs of the convoy and the security. It was useful for her to be using the hovercycle, and she was happy that she made the purchase. Her doing the security work was not difficult. The real grueling part was staying awake while riding along with the convoy. She made a game of it, looking for odd things to study and hoping to catch a glimpse of the raiders or anyone trying to attack the convoy. Her effort had yet to be rewarded, but it would come soon enough. It was getting close to changing out, and she was ready to catch a nap.
[4 on initiative. 2 to parry and dodge. 2 to strike. One additional attack per melee. No minuses apply when blinded or in darkness. 1,000ft]
|
Range: 90ft | Determine general flesh health of another being. Reveals if little or many HP/SDC and if any magic/psionic/super effect is currently affecting the subject physically
Ronan rides in to the meeting on the provided Bushmaster. A proper test for this cycle was fitting and Ronan didn't care about trashing it. Secured on his back is the rail gun, held with a securely sinched strap that would make a normal man crumble to the ground. Ronan wears his normal attire beyond that, his streetwolf leather biker jacket and pants, and his trademark goggles. Ronan listens to the briefing and doesn't have any questions, possibly even smirking a little bit. Reminds me of try hards when I used to watch the grunts getting briefed before a drop. The sergeant lays down information overload, people have trouble processing but say aye aye because peer pressure. Wonder how many of them will die. Ronan considers, his eyes hidden beneath his protective goggles as he scans the others. Ronan makes note of the name Avena and the location and frequencies of the radios. After no last question, Ronan departs with the rest and makes ready for the mission.
As the Convoy prepares to stop, Ronan queues up the Spook Squad's private frequency "Driver change. How we doing?" Ronan warns, his normal attitude being partially covered by the soldier he used to be. Ronan nods to the one at the door. "Hit it!" Ronan says as the cargo door opens and Ronan rides out with the other biker security. "Alright, same as usual, watch the perimeter." Ronan says to those on the bikes as we circle the perimeter. Ronan has his railgun secured on his back and his forcefield activated while cycling through his goggle's augmented optics as he looks on the horizon. "Eyes up." Ronan calls out over the main radio net the crew is coordinating on during the driver swap.
Please Do Not PM This Account, PM Underguard Instead
Skadoosh
M.D.C.: 321/321 (516 w/ MES) Active Abilities: Invulnerability: Invuln to: All Energy Damage Types (to include magic energy), Bullets, punches, falls, etc. | SN Melee does Half-DMG | Gases/Radiation/Drugs: Half-effective | Regen 1d6x10 MDC per min | Hold Breath for 12 minutes | Survive 80 days without food Supernatural SN:Fatigues 1/10th normal rate. Fleshworks: Sense Health of FleshActive: Will declare in post if being used | Range: 15ft away LOS | No cost | Undetectable | Determine general flesh health of another being. | Reveals D-Bee, Human, Mutant and if suffering sick/diseased flesh | Reveals if little or many HP/SDC/MDC and if any magic/psionic/super effect is currently affecting the subject physically, though cannot identify.
Active Gear: Worn: Streetwolf MDC Biker Jacker: [12 M.D.C.] | Streetwolf Combat Pants: [8 M.D.C.] | Naruni Heavy Force Field [110 M.D.C.] Carried: Will Declare but most likely KLS Carried [Secured in Dimensional Bag]: [TW Lightblade]||DMG: 1d6*10 (2d6*10 vs Supernatural Creature) || Modifiers: +1 Strike || Features: Fueled by wielder's H/S/M.D.C | Skorblade Short Blade
Perception:
1d100: [82] = 82 /60% +20% on Perception rolls to determine if an explosive device or ordnance is “live” or a “dud”
JIC:
1d20: [14] = 14 /
1d100: [10] = 10
Skills:
Pilot: Truck
1d100: [16] = 16 /50%
The Grackle-Tooth wears a snaggletooth grin as he drives, arm in the window, other hand loosely on the Road Busters' steering wheel to keep it going straight on the path even as he watches for hazards typical of bumpy paths and, more importantly, stirred earth or debris uncommon to driven paths. He mostly ignores whatever comes in and over the radio, the Pantera on the truck's radio being much better to hear more often to him. Them's'a riddin', Ahm a drivin', an so far so nothin'.
On the third day and the shift change coming he's starting to want to see some suspense. The silence following the "if" the explosive goes off in his face. The stalling as it comprehends someone is there to stop a sudden flash and bang. Nothing anyone can outwardly see on Orrucks' seemingly ever calm face. Still don't think they wan' hover trainz.
Conditions: Prehensile Tail, faster healer: recovers lost MDC at a rate of 2d6 per 12 hours. HF: 12
Worn:
NG-A12 Anti-Ballistic Body Armor M.D.C. by Location:
Helmet: 40
Arms: 35 each
Legs: 45 each
Main Body: 80
Weight: 25 lbs.
Modifiers: -10% to Climb and -15% to other physical skills Features:
All standard environmental features
Impact Absorbing Systems: Armor takes half damage from all kinetic attacks. Roll with impact reduces damage by half again. Wearer suffers only 20% damage from falls and crashes.
Boring, boring, boring... Sir Northblade sits in a corner of the container, playing round after imaginary round of High Low, Blackjack, and Spades. "Please tell me someone remembered to bring a PDD-V. As entertaining as you lot are, well, wait... no... no you're not." Wayne goes back to his mind games, making sure that he loses more often than he wins, just like in reality.
Sir Northblade finally finds his sleeping arrangement and knocks out for a while. He regains consciousness every time he hears screams, but quickly determining safety, goes back to sleep. The fourth time, he wakes up for real. He then watches as his teammate rips his own eye out to replace it with some sort of marble. "Everything under control over there, Crow?" He sits upright on his bunk, long enough to confirm for himself that Crow hasn't become possessed or some other type of threat to those in the car. Once he's sure, Wayne sits back in his corner seat, passing the time in his mind.
Ronan wrote: ↑Tue Jun 10, 2025 1:50 pm"Driver change. How we doing?"
"Minus the ritual maiming, we're hunky dory over here." Sir Northblade observes Crow looking content now that he did...whatever the hell he just did. He offers his services. "Let me take a look at it."(Paramedic:
1d100: [68] = 68/96% - PASS). If there's anything that can be helped by using the healing abilities of the magic shuriken, he'll do so.
Somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, Crow dreams of cold scaley hounds. His hand unconciously stroking the behind the ears of Wolf's metal dog.
Drifting in and out of reality and Nod. He feels himself slip free, lifes chains relaxing its grip as he begins to free fall into his own soul.
He sits naked on cold earth. The air thick with fog only broken by the occasional burst of gun fire and the wailing of the dying. This place has the scent of familiarity but he cant quite place why.
The smell of incense waft through the haze and hes suddenly kneeling, his master crouched before him polishing a wicked blade. The air begins to clear and his senses become awash in this new reality.
They are surrounded by acolytes and priests. Between him and Master Deimos lies a demon, its many limbs chained to the ground and its chest cavity open to the air.
Black-blue blood pumps from a heart analogue into a beaker. Its silent cries of agony unnoticed by all present. An aid replaced the now full beaker with the surety of long practice.
Deimos rose with all the grace of a hunting cat, his presence demanding the attention of all present with undeniable force. With a voice as cold and emotionless as the heart of winter he addressed the gathered Knights. "Contract fulfilled. Send the rest to our Lord." A symphony of screams followed as flames licked the skin of man, woman, and child. The village would be nothing more then cinders come morning.
The smell of cooked meat soon flooded Crows nostrils as he rose to follow his Master away from the abatiorre.
The sound of Wayne's voice drags him back to the present. His mimatched eyes resting on first the metal dog under his hand and then snapping towards Wayne, now surrounded by a miasmic aura of blue green.
Wayne wrote:"Everything under control over there, Crow?"
"I'll ...... I'll be fine. Not sure what has gotten ahold of me. ....But I think its a good thing."
