Utrax

The Forgotten Heroes

Osana

^{Location: Abandoned Tower - Underground Path}

---

Osana stared down at her hands and found them covered in dirt. Thick was the smell of the freshly churned earth, mingling with the cool breeze on the back of her neck. As she looked away from her hands, Osana felt as if she lost her breath. Rolling fields of grass spanned as far as her eye could see but, what was most breathtaking, was the shattered cracks spreading across the sky. Each crack was thick, black, and snaking along the sky away from the sun, as if the sun itself were shattering the sky. A heavy metallic scent came upon her senses suddenly and Osana looked back down to her hands.

They were slick with dark blood, stinking and cold. A rasping noise caught her attention. Before Osana lay the corpse of something formerly humanoid, in a pool of inky blackness, taking gurgling and rasping breaths. From the mouth of this corpse writhed translucent tendrils, dripping with the inky black blood, thrashing weakly toward her. With sick fascination, Osana's eyes traced down the corpse's back, watched the writhing of unnatural movement beneth the skin threaten to tear through the flesh. She looked away once more and still found the green grass swaying in the soft breeze and softly, quietly, they began to speak to her.

Voices which rose from within Osana, around her, threatening to tear her apart, whispered softly their questions and conversation. The sky split and began to rain gold as they spoke to Osana, because of Osana, and for Osana all at once. Great hands formed in the cracked sky. There were no two alike, none which belonged to the same creature, and some were only hands as far as her perception understood them to be-- for the were not hands at all. One and all, they pointed toward the slowly building pile of gold as a crown fell upon it. And then there came shadow-- brick and mortar surrounded her-- and flames alone tried their hardest to illuminate the massive chamber. At the end of the corridor stood a beast-- a wolf, a fiend, an enemy-- whatever it was, it was hungry, and had it's attention focused on Osana.

Slowly Osana stood as her eyes adjusted to the light. She felt a sticky wetness between her fingers, then looked down at her hands. Black blood covered one and her dagger was firmly grasped by it. Hurried steps approached her, soft, high cadenced-- the beast leapt toward her with a snarl. Reflexively she crouched, ducked, then rolled beneath the beast's projected leap. Harmlessly it soared until it landed but, by then, Osana had already began charging toward it. She kept her stance low and dagger to her side-- the timing would be key. Furiously, the beast charged then began biting toward her, savage in it's attacks, swiping quickly with it's sharp claws.

Osana was forced to dodge but, it gave her plenty of time to see the holes in the beast's assault. As tooth and claw lashed out, so too did Osana stab and slash, til blood and fur was splattered against the walls. Her attacks were quick, small, but soon the beast's assault became fatigued. For a moment, Osana nearly felt bad for the twisted abomination bleeding out before her.

The twisted mangy body was so corrupted by this sick world that Osana could not imagine what it must have been. A truly prideful wolf? A noble wildcat? Perhaps a family's beloved dog? But still, here it was, crazed and bleeding-- dying but not truly. How many thousands of deaths had this beast died before now? Unceremoniously, the creature fell to it's side and stopped moving. For now it would become inactive, as close to death as anyone could become in this foul world, before once more the beast was awakened by the cruel god-broken world to move once more-- to hunt and try to sate it's endless hunger, once more. Ah-- that's right, she was in the basement of a tower. Osana shook her head as the memory came crawling back to her.

This was her shelter for an urgent dream the spirits had for her. All about Osana, in the several days prior, the signs had presented themselves all along her path. Here, stones fallen in symbol-- there, birds calling in the cadence-- the symbols all calling her to dream again. Days had passed since Osana dove into the dream, she was sure, but it had taken days for the message to complete itself. Somewhere there was a fiend covered in gold, leeching the life out of the world, full of only care for their own survival, and Osana was to execute it. This was a dream without need for interpretation-- so strong and clear in it's message. Spirits were never so blunt with their messages unless they were serious.

Osana's pace picked up upon this recollection.
If the spirits needed such bluntness-- had such powerful intent-- then she needed to carry out their guidance with haste.

Who Believes In Fairytales?

El Chupacabra

Picture Reference

Name:
Chupacabra
Alias/Nickname:
Dani Maldonado // Chupa; Chups; Chup +variants - by those familiar with her
Tale:
Urban Cryptid Legend - El Chupacabra
Physical Age:
30
Actual Age:
42
Height/Weight:
5ft 6in / 168lbs
Gender:
Female

Physical Appearance and Attire:
Rough quickly sums up "Dani's" day to day appearance. Her skin is a warm bronze shade, her build is thick, and her brown eyes are generally tired and bloodshot. The bed styles her back length hair before she brushes it enough to be "presentable", otherwise she doesn't seem to care for styling it, aside from the occasional highlight dye applied to it. All of her clothes look worn, bargin-bin, or otherwise taken from a donation center-- stains are not uncommon on her pants especially. Still, she favors flannel shirts and darker colors, in some semblance of style. When working she does her best to clean up and looks reasonably less grimy. A cigarette in her mouth or behind her heavily pierced ear may as well be counted as an accessory. Full sleeves of tattoos run from her knuckles to her shoulders, covering up a significant amount of scarring, and they all depict imagery of flowers, death, gambling, or dying animals.

Personality:
Troubled and short fused, the Chupacabra has made a name for herself as a violent alcoholic. After more than a few incidents with the "law", street gangs, and her former friends, Dani was taken to get help with her addiction by her one and only friend remaining. Still, despite all this, Dani was and always had been extremely outgoing, quick to crack a joke or laugh, and a lover of good food, games, and music. A rough sort of charisma and warmness hangs about her, making her seem "safe" to be around, despite her past and bad habits.

Background:

An Unsettling (And Accurate) Chupacabra Fairytale

Once upon a time, there was a goat shepherd living in Puerto Rico. A poor crippled woman came to him in a terrible rain storm seeking shelter. The shepherd refused, telling her that his house was full, and that he had no room. Saddened, the woman thanked him for his time, then left.

A few months passed and the sun began to cook the earth. During this horrible drought, the poor woman came to the Shepard, this time she looked ill and her skin was badly sun burned. She begged the shepherd to spare a cup of water, from the drinking trough of his animals if he could. The shepherd refused, saying that his animals had drank all the water, and that there was none left even for him. Heartbroken, the woman thanked him for telling her, then left.

One day, a woman came to the shepherd, watched him feed his goats, then knocked upon his door. The Shepard answered and found a woman, crippled but clean and healthy, and he recognized her face. To the shepherd the woman said, "You refused me what I begged for in my time of need. I asked someone else. They told me you have a large house with plenty of room." In guilt the shepherd looked over his shoulder, into his large and well built house, and did not say a word.

"They told me you had plenty of water, enough so that even your grass was green," said the woman. The shepherd thought upon his deep wells of water, how he had lasted through the drought, and did not say a word. Then she said, "And I did not beg you for food, because they told me you would say you were starving, even though I just saw you feed your animals and your belly is large."

"Who?" Begged the shepherd, "Who told you this?"

"The Devil," replied the woman, "And they have sent a demon to claim your sheltered, watered, and fed heard, so that you too may feel what I have endured." And with that, the woman left the shepherd stunned and fearful within his home.

As night rolled around, he found that he could not sleep, for dreams of beasts haunted him. When morning came, the first goat lay dead, drained of blood, upon his doorstep. Soon his entire heard was dead. His crops died. His well dried up. Fire turned his house to ash. He soon found himself poor on the street, fearful of red eyes in the night, and begging for handouts from strangers.

All because he told lies, instead of giving his kindness to a stranger in need.

More than merely sightings and vague descriptions of "monsters" in the night, El Chupacabra was a curse given form, cast upon a selfish farmer and shepherd, to terrorize him until the end of his peace. Though there is truly no confirmation as to if Chupacabra was really sent by The Devil, as she loves to leave this detail up for speculation. What's known is that she truly was responsible every Puerto Rican, Texan, and Mexican report in The Homelands, and quite a few in The New world since The Great Exodus.

Everyone knows that when Dani gets drunk enough, the Chupacabra transformation tends to happen, no matter how many potions or spells are cast upon her-- an unfortunate and troubling occurrence. Often the only one that can keep her from rampaging about for too long is, again, her only friend in the world: Mothman.

Skills and Abilities:

Chupacabra Transformation

Starved Form: While Chupacabra can restrain her appetite for the warm blood of others, this also means she's not as powerful when transformed. Then again, her smaller size most certainly makes her harder to catch, and her teeth and claws are still horribly sharp. She can leap nearly double her height and move about in relative silence. Her eyes glow a soft red, which leaves her slightly detectable under enough darkness. Her main instinct when transformed is to seek out a food source, drain it of blood until it's dry, and remain hidden. If she happens to still be in control when transformed, she will be extremely docile instead.
Size = Labrador Retriever equiv.

Starved Chupacabra Picture

Sated Form: Considerably stronger, bigger, and more aggressive, a sated Chupacabra possesses the higher thinking skills of an apex predator, such as a jaguar, and the more sentient thoughts of her personality. Her strength, size, and razor sharp protrusions are nearly doubled. The spines grown from Chupacabra's back are capable of administering a mild paralytic toxin if stabbed into a target-- the more stabs, the more toxin, and effects truly take place after several doses and a half-hour's time. Clever and somewhat ruthless, this Chupacabra is far more dangerous if she's given in to her instincts. Some even say that she's always in control when in this form, but her best friend in the world disagrees. She will still run and hide if something is too strong to fight against. When in control of this form, as usual, Chupacabra seems more focused on making conversation and relaxing than hunting.
Size = Great Dane equiv.

Sated Chupacabra

Taco'bout Nachos!: Dani is a very good chef and specializes in Puerto Rican and Mexican cuisine. She owns a "Taco Truck" and is well known for making THE BEST tacos in town. Her Quesadillas, on the other hand, are largely reported as "alright". The Nachos are "pretty damn good", too. This is her main means of making money and keeping away from the liquor though, she can be seen occasionally taking a nip from a flask. Good food and entertaining conversation!

Weaknesses and Flaws:
Addictive Personality: Dani was severely addicted to alcohol before and is very likely to become addicted again, especially since she didn't fully go through with her rehabilitation program. Struggling to hold back drinking at parties, having the wrong friends, a sense of personal isolation, fear of herself, and terrible insomnia further drives her need to "self medicate".

Carnivorous Tendencies: Though she tends to go to the local butcher for her fix of raw meat and blood, every so often, it is still very much within Dani to crave the hunt, kill, and rather murderous "rush" of being a predator creature. A rather vicious rumor circulated for a while, among the Tales within The New World, that Dani had preyed upon her first humanoid in a drunken brawl. This was not proven but, much to her dismay, this was also not dispelled. Dani insists it didn't happen but, she also doesn't entirely recall the incident.

Aggression and Temper: Despite Dani's friendliness, she is known as a short-fused person, especially when it comes to insults. Often times, Dani doesn't hold back her need for violence, because she very much believes it's the only way to truly teach someone a lesson. If anyone wants to come close to death, all they need to do is talk anything ill about Mothman in her presence.

Starting Items/Trinkets:
Flask: "Ol' Ellie" as Dani likes to call the flask, is a very plain silver metal flask, with more than a few scratches and dents in it. Stereotypically so, it reeks of tequila.

Picture of Mothman and Chupacabra: While Mothman is rarely seen by anyone else, Dani carries this picture around to help reinforce the fact that he is, in fact, not a Tale among Tales... and that his wings are pretty cool looking. They're both transformed and she is riding on his back-- Dani doesn't talk about who took the picture at all.

Other:
"Mothman? Who's Mothman?": Resident vigilante, hero, and all around great guy, Mothman is known as a bit of a hermit, very quiet yet expressive, except for when it comes to helping people. He most surely has a heart of pure gold and has probably never harmed a fly-- seriously. Plenty of people speculate about it but no, he is only in a platonic relationship with Chupacabra. A very odd pair indeed. Some even go so far as to call them the "Devil and the Angel." They've been friends for years.

Home Sweet Home: The CHUPACABRA manages to afford a very underfurnished studio apartment in the Reine Apartments building. It has a card table, two steel chairs, a scratching post, and a massive mound of blankets. If you ignore the claw marks in the wallpaper, collection of empty beer bottles in the hall closet, and weird smell, it's actually not a bad place. She even has a whole two bars of soap and half a towel! And yes, the scratching post is for her use.

Mothman

Picture Reference

Name:
Mothman
Alias/Nickname:
Generically: Joe Smith / Moths, Megaman, "Mothy" (used mostly by Chupacabra)
Tale:
Urban Cryptid Legend - Mothman
Physical Age:
Late 30's
Actual Age:
51
Height/Weight:
5ft 11in / 160lbs
Gender:
Male

Physical Appearance and Attire:
While he is rarely seen, Mothman's features can be easily described as angular. He keeps his shoulder length black hair down or tied back when working out and it's clear he takes care of it. His bronze skin is marked by a lone tattoo of a happy face on the right side of his chest. Sometimes he has a full beard but, to see him looking scruffy about the face is not uncommon. Mothman likes to keep things simple, as far as clothing is concerned. Day to day he wears jeans and a t-shirt, a beanie to cover his unfortunately non-transforming antennae, and a pair of boots or sneakers, depending on his mood. To see him in gym clothes is far more common however, as he follows a schedule of working out during the early morning and after dinner, rain or shine.

Personality:
Kind, understanding, very optimistic, and willing to give someone the shirt off his back, Mothman is a highly compassionate individual. Through his kindness, he is also a very approachable individual and won't turn away someone that initiates conversation. Perhaps this is why he decided to become something of a vigilante. Mothman doesn't like violence so he handles conflicts with heavy deescalation tactics, often mediating between two conflicting parties if he can. By odd contrast, his is very introverted, prefers to stay in his apartment, and rarely speaks more than one to three words per answer. It seems only his best friend in the world can get him to use full sentences.

Background:

Of Moths and Moons

She called him a guardian, so of course he would give his life to protect her. The great mother, Astmona of the Green Moon, screamed to him for help. Mothman could hear her but he was too occupied with the beasts before him. Made of twisted shadows, the monsters were crowded within the castle staircase, preventing his ascension. They had such an advantage over him that he could feel his knees growing weaker every time they pounded on his shield. Concentrating on his magic, Mothman reinforced the power of his Moonlight made shield, then readied his Moonlight Blade for attack. Mothman had been in the staircase for ages it seemed, fighting his way up the tower, past sixteen floors already, desperately trying to get the the great mother. This whole event had been a disaster.

Where had the warning bell been when the shadows were sighted? How had the fiends closed in on the castle so quickly? And, most importantly, how had they blacked out the moonlight? The thoughts left him as he thrust his sword forward, impaling one of the shadows upon the blade, before hefting it up, over his head, then tossing it behind him-- the body bounced and rolled down to join the others he had cut down. As he fought, hacked, tossed, Mothman thought not of the pain in his wings, the tears and holes the beasts had given him, or the massacre that was happening to his people. There were three floors left to go and the mother's cries were growing more frantic. Were her wards giving out?

With fury and desperation, Mothman cried, "Move!" As he hacked his way up the stairs. Howls and snarls answered him. Blood and the sick slickness of the flesh chopped away from the monsters coated the stairs, causing him to slip-- fangs to pierce his armor-- but still he pushed. Exhaustion was draped upon him like a weighted cloak, but still he pushed. A doorway soon greeted him-- gaping wide and surrounded by wooden splinters. With a wordless cry he thrust his blade through, bashed his shield against the splinters, and pushed his way into the room.

Darkness writhed and danced about the chamber as the Astmona held dying light in her hands, Astmona's Moonlight magic shield fading slowly, with more of the beasts bashing themselves mindlessly against it. Mothman hacked his way through the crowd, finishing off the remaining monsters in the great mother's chamber, then dashed up to stand within her light. Tears could not stain her face, for their people did not cry, but Mothman knew her sorrow. Her great wings had been torn from her back, scattered about like torn paper, and her antenna had been snapped off by monsters. Green blood poured from one of Astmona's eyes as she looked to Mothman with a deep sigh of relief. Weakly she fell to her knees upon seeing him. Mothman kneeled at her side then bowed his head respectfully. After a few silent beats passed between them, Astmona looked to Mothman, then pleaded, "You have to go, Guardian."

"I can't," he answered, emotion causing his voice to break.
"This is a lost cause, Guardian, and I'll not see all my children killed."
Mothman shook his head at her, refusing to accept it. The nest could be rebuilt if she survived-- new younglings could be hatched for a neighboring King-- things could be okay, but only if Astmona survived. He would protect her-- guard her--
"Please, Guardian," cried Astmona, her voice filled with agony, "I cannot help you if you do not wish it."
"Help? You mean," began Mothman before lapsing into silence.
"I must-- you must live for me."
"But I die for you," replied Mothman before his gaze snapped toward the door. Growling, distant but present, was coming from the doorway. More were on the way and there wasn't much time left-- it didn't matter. Come what may, Mothman was going to give everything for Astmona's protection. Sternly, with the authority of her position Astmona told him, "That is not what you swore-- repeat your creed, Guardian." Mothman slowly rose to his feet at that. Silently, he stared down at Astmona, his antenna drooping with despair, as he turned to face the doorway.

A fiend burst into the room as Mothman began, "For the mother, for the nest, I pledge my life." Sword and shield at the ready, he charged forward. Light within the room began to grow as Astmona began churning a spell into existence. "The children I will guard, as I am a child to be guarded," he roared as he thrust his blade into the belly of the creature. It hissed at Mothman, then clawed at his arm. Pained, Mothman shouted, "To give, to love, to be blessed by the sun..." He slammed his shiled against the monster, knocking it down and removing it from his blade with the blow, before charging upon it, shouting, "...in Larion's peaceful skies I fly!"

No sooner did he thrust his blade into the skull of the beast, did the room grow filled with blinding light. Weightlessness and painlessness came abruptly to Mothman, as his world became a void of white. Once more did his mother hatch him into the light of day, only this time, it was in a world he had never seen before. She called him a guardian, so that he would live his life for her.

After arriving in the world, Mothman found himself weaponless and terribly injured. It took months of recovering for his wings to heal, then many more months re-learning how to fly. "Sightings" of Mothman occured during this time period of relearning to fly. Results varied between "very good" and "flying too low", resulting in his status as an urban legend coming to life. Many people saw him during this time but, eventually, he developed a better way of practicing his flight without being seen. This all kept him occupied up until he asked himself what exactly his reason for being was.

A long existential crisis followed before he decided to take on a "vigilante" type of mindset. Mothman helped numerous lost hikers, exhausted backpackers, and fallen mountain climbers in the wilderness as he could, further solidifying his status as something more "believable" than the usual urban legend. A decent amount of time passed before the great exodus, when the other tales came into the world. By then, the legendary Mothman had already managed to get a weird statue of himself erected by a small town.

And he says he likes to keep a low profile.

Skills and Abilities:

Mothman Transformation

Towering at about 7ft tall with a wingspan of 11ft, the Mothman transformation brings with it strength double that of a normal person, claws that are as sharp as a bear's, and heightened senses. He is sensitive to air current shifts, temperature changes, and the air pressure changes associated with sound. His eyesight is excellent in the dark and his field of view is nearly 360 degrees. While in this form, he is capable of using his main means of offense and defense: Moonlight Moth Magic.

An Amazingly Accurate Statue

While the statue is a good example of just about everything in Mothman's appearance, it lacks the coloration, and he long fuzzy antennae sprouting out of his head. He is rather brightly colored like an Elephant Hawk Moth. The Wings' torn and tattered appearence are accurate to their damage at the time the artist recalls "sighting" Mothman.

Moonlight Moth Magic: Mothman absorbs the energy of the sun during the day and is only capable of using his magic at night. His people were nocturnal, so they developed this magic to aid them in fighting the creatures of the night. His particular training allows him to create a Great-Shield and Broadsword out of "Moonlight". They are just as sturdy as steel and feed off a steady supply of his stored sunlight energy.

Flying: He can fly with his great wings and rarely need rest. He can fly up to a hundred miles per hour with exertion but, he can maintain forty miles per hour, without need for halting, up to two hours. He prefers flying as a main means of locomotion and it's not unusual to see him partially transformed and fluttering about. No wonder "sightings" of him pop up every now and then.

Sports and Fitness: Being a rather competitive person culturally, Mothman enjoys bonding over sports, a marathon, or just a nice day at the gym. He's usually only ever found in the gym when he's out, unless he's lingering around his best friend ever's taco truck. Mothman regularly challenges others to "benchpressing" competitions and he very rarely loses-- seriously, he may not have the huge muscles, but he is definitely strong. Going on a run with Mothman is usually a half-day event.

Professional Janitor: Known as the "night sweeper" due to his job as a janitor, Mothman takes only night shifts, and cleans at as many places as his schedule allows him to. He's seen and found a lot of strange things while having this job. Cleaning up after other Tales in the night will get those results, it seems. Usually when he's seen out and about during the day, it's because he's awake specifically for meeting Chupacabra.

Weaknesses and Flaws:
Moths to a Flame: An inherent weakness to fire is within Mothman and all his people. Being highly flammable when transformed, he'll go up like a dry Christmas tree if exposed to direct flame.

Daytime? What's that?: Mothman's entire life schedule has been nocturnal since the day he was born. In fact, his senses are rather dulled during the day and his eyesight is terrible in sunlight-- shades can't even overcome that fact. He usually sleeps during the day, absorbing sunlight from his apartment windows. Waking him during the daytime is difficult and can result in his complete disorientation.

Salt and Nectar: A very strange diet keeps Mothman alive. He needs to consume large amounts of salt, sugar, and water. His best friend Chupacabra has perfected a smoothie for him, as well as a fried dessert type dish that only he seems to have the stomach for. If he goes too long without sugar, he can experience the first stages of hypoglycemia-- these include disorientation, fatigue, anxiety, and progression to fainting. Mothman consumes roughly a quarter of his weight in these vital components each day and can't go more than a 18 hours without a meal, before potentially dying.

Limited Moonlight: Mothman's magic runs out quickly, especially if blows are taken by the shield and sword. They can shatter-- leaving him without a chunk of his magic. Repeated shattering of the weapons will leave him completely drained of his power, only able to defend himself with his claws. He can channel the spells for his sword and shield up to four hours-- two when under heavy use.

Starting Items/Trinkets:
FitBit: Is it really a surprise that a guy that loves fitness has a Fitbit? Mothman almost obsessively counts his steps and how many miles he travels-- he even has a specific exercise routine for flying, too.

Dia De Los Muertos "Sugar Skull": Given to him by Chupacabra, this tiny skull is decorated in a very specific purple, yellow, and blue color pattern. It features several distinct markings related to Mothman's home culture. The name "Astmona" is painted delicately on the back of it.

Other:
"Chupacabra? You mean that Chupacabra?!": When and how they met is shrouded in mystery. What's obvious is that Mothman watches over Chupacabra with a large amount of care and attention, often going to great lengths to ensure her wellness, even if it means waking up during the day. More often than not, Chupacabra can be found passed out drunk somewhere in his apartment, most often atop a mound of blankets purchased just for her. They refer to each other as friends, despite the deep care they show to one another.

The "Mothcave": Moths owns a 2 bedroom apartment in the Reine Apartments building. He keeps it very clean, except for the side bedroom that, for whatever reason, features a pile of blankets, a bunch of broken cardboard boxes, and a bucket. It's completely furnished and most of the walls are painted in pastel pink, blue, and green. A lot of his things seem very generic and basic, as if someone went to great efforts to pick the most plain furniture they could. All solid colors and no decorations.

Gothic Lands: Arcana [High-Fantasy] [Adventure] [Magic]

@SmileyJaws Is this happening anymore?

Who Believes In Fairytales?

HELLO!
I am ready for the character sheet review!
I'll be back tomorrow for your critique/questions and things!

APPROVED: Relocated to Character Section!

Who Believes In Fairytales?

*Checks in at the front desk.*
I am here.
I'll begin working on my character sheet.

Galaxy Of Monsters - (Alien Monster Hunter RP)

@Utrax No they can interact. Again, sorry for being a little on the inactive side. School's been giving me a rougher time than usual, especially that the second semester is coming to a close and such. Hopefully I'll be finding more time to be around and be more active during the break.

@Lmpkio

You're good! School is very important. Give it your all!

Galaxy Of Monsters - (Alien Monster Hunter RP)

@Lmpkio, @GrizzTheMauler, @Utrax, @Icepick, @BurningCold, @ROADWARRIOR, @Shoryu, @DinoNuts, @Stitches

Alright guys. Putting this in now to see who all is still in this. I'm putting in some time for our characters just to interact a bit before going down to the planet. However, if you think it better I could edit the post and have everyone on Aurorias and we can interact there. Which would you prefer?

And I know that some of you may be tied up with classes and such. Let us know and we'll accommodate as best we can.

@t2wave

I don't have a preference But, for the sake of answering the question: Go to planet,time for action. Or they can interact on the ship enroute or something?
^{not that brek interacts or anything lol}

VIGILANCE: Blood & Justice - A Superhuman Roleplay (Always Open)

*Finger guns at @Lurking Shadow and @Ferrocerium. Bam.*
Doin' things now.
Things are now happening.

VIGILANCE: Blood & Justice - A Superhuman Roleplay (Always Open)

RAM HEAD | Vernon Thompson

Darkness On The Edge Of Town

Killbride Sawmill Interaction: @Lurking Shadow@Ferrocerium

---

---

As Vernon drove up the winding gravel path through the woods, he saw a thick black plume of smoke coming from the direction of the Sawmill. Maybe they were just burning trash or something up there? The path continued uphill and smoke began to obscure the road. Vernon looked to Bongo and mumbled, "Oh no." She looked over at him and "Boof'd" warily. Once he drove up a final steepness in the hill, Vernon's 'Oh no' became an, "Oh shit".

Flames rolled out of the Sawmill, greedily eating away at the wood, and the only thing Vernon could say as he put his truck into park was, "I guess the firewood's dry." He hesitated. Seated within his vehicle, a reasonable distance away from the Sawmill, Vernon stared toward it and felt as if the universe was trying to tell him something. Bongo meanwhile was barking and scratching at the door before she turned and licked at his face. "Shit-- you right. You right. Okay," Vernon told the dog as he opened his door, "Better go see if everything's okay-- I mean. Well..."

Clearly everything wasn't okay.

Bongo leapt across his lap and began running toward the Sawmill then stopped. Vernon very nearly tripped over his dog. He stopped and asked, "What? What's up?" as Bongo began sniffing around. She whined and began backing away from the Sawmill. Tilting his head, Vernon stared at Bongo in mild surprise. What was it that scared her so much? Bongo continued backing away, but barked at Vernon still. She clearly didn't want to go but certainly wanted him to do something. He began patting himself down, mumbling, "You seen my phone, ol'girl?" Had this been one of those days where he just didn't carry the phone? "Damn it," he grumbled before starting to job toward the Sawmill. Bongo barked after him briefly before turning away and leaping into the truck bed.

“HEY!”

Vernon heard the voice call out then ran toward it-- quickly given the fact that he had augmented legs. It came from the other side of the Sawmill, which must have conveniently obscured his position from... "It ain't nearly that cold out here," Vernon mumbled once he caught sight of Gavin. Immediately he paused and quickly assessed the situation. He eyed the layers of clothing with an arched brow. People only dressed like that when they were homeless, addicted to some terrible drugs, or cold. It was possible this dude was a mix of all three and was the arsonist himself. Next his eyes landed on the well dressed Anton and could only form one word: "Weird." But just as Veronon saw Anton, he saw a very singed looking Whittaker nearby-- well at least one person was familiar. They had been acquaintances for years since Vernon moved into California. While they weren't friends, there was no doubt he'd recognize Vernon. Quick conclusions in the matter of moments were drawn:

Overdressed dude - Bad
Well dressed guy - Enigma
Whittaker - Kind of cooked

"Hell no, not about to wait," Vernon told himself as he charged into the clearing near the other two. "Don't know who any of y'all are but that man needs to be in a hospital now. Right now! I got a truck and I can get'em there," Vernon called out. He halted again once he noted Gavin's hand on his hip and assumed the worst. If that guy made any moves, any slight moves to draw a weapon, he was going to shit every single one of his teeth with Vernon's assistance. Then again, if he was more focused on Suit over there, then perhaps he could dash out and get Whittaker without much trouble.

"Whittaker-- you'd best get movin' if you can," Vernon called out to the man, "If you came from in there, ain't not tellin' what sort of inhalation burns you done picked up. I'm sure it's gettin' hard to breathe! I ain't got a phone and you know ain't no fire department comin'. Get over here, man!" Whittaker gave Vernon a very familiar look, the one where someone was just a couple of minutes from passing out or puking-- Vernon assumed it was the former. He eyed the other two people warily but wasn't going to give them more than ten seconds to figure themselves out.

The Forgotten Heroes

I've thrown the Cackling Old Witch Character Sheet into the NPC spot and she turned out more to be...
Grandma's a Badass Witch. Welp.

There it is!