[BPRD] Makes My Skin Crawl, pt 5 [Dr.E 3.5]

edited February 2013 in In-Game
Dr. Eaton,

Moments ago, you snatched up Ahiga in his dire wolf form and used your Angel Wings to whisk both of you away from the hotel room to this place.

It is cold on the desert at night, not that it bothers you. The abandoned hangars sit open like giant metal shoeboxes. The Air Force base even has a row of scuttled planes not far from here. Otherwise, the sandy ground is rather wide open.

Ahiga the dire wolf sprung away from you once you stepped through to here. He took a moment to collect his whereabouts, sniff the ground, look up at the sky, paw at the sand. Now, it seems he have decided upon a course of action. He looks on you with all too human eyes and emits a low, rumbling growl.

What do you do?

Comments

  • From reading him: What does he intend to do?
  • The dire wolf speaks in a low rumble, "Return me to my home, Ghost Man." He is crouching, ready to pounce on you quickly, his coarse hair standing on the scruff of his broad neck.


    Ahiga is trying to figure out where he is. He's going to threaten you to take him back. If you don't, he plans to try and destroy you, then shift into a crow and fly back to Canyon de Chelly.
  • The moon is reflecting off of the pale sand, and whole base is spectral in that cold light, shimmering in stark blacks and whites. But even with this mask pulled across its face, it is familiar to me. I spend years here, both before and after '46, and I know its every corner. This place, here, one might consider my first haunt, in those months and years before I mastered my current ... state of being.

    In a tone starched crisp, I remind Ahiga, "Once more, sir, my name is Dr. Howard Eaton. Blackfriars. The British Museum. B. P. R. D. You had best remember. As for returning you to your assault upon my associates ... I think not."

    I smile at him in the moonlight, then vanish like mist in the wind. An instant later, however, my footfalls may be heard issuing from the hangar across the way, from deep in its enfolding shadows. A human might have discounted the sound, or overlooked it, but to Ahiga's senses they must be as clear as the moon in the sky.
  • Yes, Ahiga hears it. He is taken up with the hunt now, his feral nature overtaking his logic. He shifts form to a crow and flies towards the sounds with uncanny accuracy.

    What do you do?
  • I am deep within the hanger, a great steel cavity empty of all but detritus and decades of arid grit. My footfalls stop, my breathing stops, silent as the grave.

    But when Ahiga comes winging in after me, I shout, an oath reverberating through the shadows, and the sound is joined by a shriek of corroded, rusted metal as I focus all my will and all my telekinetic force, wrenching the old steel door in its tracks, attempting to slam it shut for the first time in twenty or thirty years.
  • Poltergeist activity, but treat it as using magic:

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+3 )

    Theoretically, I should be applying an additional +1 from reviewing my books earlier, but this isn't really a formal piece of sorcery, so I think it would be more appropriate to put that off for a later spell?
  • Of course, to be explicit, I was intending to trap Ahiga in here with me.
  • You expend your energy and will trying to bring the rusted steel door down, but it warps under your manipulation, twisting and causing the entire hangar to shudder and echo across the desert.

    Ahiga the crow darts for your silent form with uncanny accuracy. Take 3-Harm (before armor or the like) as his beak tears at your left eye, snatching out the ectoplasm in what would be incredibly painful for a living, breathing person. Do you feel that, Dr. Eaton?

    Ahiga gobbles the eye and you hear among the dying echoes of metal thooms a crow-like cawing laughter.

    What do you do?
  • Of course I feel it, though it is not the same as it would be for a living man. My substance is, truthfully, rather simpler than that of a human, just ectoplasm condensed into a memory of what I once was. I already begin to knit myself back together, but in doing so I become ... attenuated. Thin. I lose much of my apparent solidity, growing ghostly and pale, translucent, perhaps even faintly glowing.

    And cold. My substance attempts to draw in heat and life, in order to replenish itself. This I was prepared for; I studied certain spells among my books and journals, and once again I speak a Latin phrase to invoke the Saint Nicholas, and the bleeding fog of my ectoplasm bursts into blue fire.
  • Use magic to enchant my natural weapon for +1harm and +magic.

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+4 )
  • And then I will wait for him, translucent and horrifying in ghost fire. I don't suppose I need to exert myself to follow him - he is the hunter here, is he not? I will fight back when he comes. If you want me to go straight ahead into the roll, I will do that, but of course that depends on what he will do.
  • I suppose I might read the situation, though, if he dawdles in returning.
  • Ahiga darts back at you after gobbling down your essence and when he comes closer, he transforms again, using his speed with the movement as he explodes into a mass of shaggy wolf-fun and claws and gnashing teeth. He leaps upon you as the dire wolf, human eyes glowing yellow with carnal rage.

    Go ahead and make your roll, Dr. Eaton.
  • #DiceRoller( 2d6+3 )

    2-harm, or 3-harm on a 10+
  • edited February 2013
    Yes, now that I have a copy of the text, we will indeed go with the +1harm (for 3-harm).

    He collides with me, he no doubt tears into my ghostly substance, but he finds me towering with unnatural fury. My substances shreds into streamers of weird, luminescent fog ... my human form is recognizable, but sketchy and tattered, clearly monstrous, dancing with blue flame. And my twisting wreathes of ectoplasm are hungry for heat and life, taking it from him, gilding his fur in frost and stealing warmth from his heart even as my form gives way like fog before his claws.

    My substance draws out his strength, and I heal, regenerating even as he rips and tears. My wreathes of ectoplasm reach further, fronds of frost draw themselves across the cracked concrete, freezing weeds and causing a low mist to rise.
  • Ahiga the massive dire wolf deals another 3-Harm to you, teeth closing around the smoke and tearing, rending. But the strike you deal him forces out a yelp and he twists awkwardly in mid-flight, then lands on the sand hard. The wolf limps up and twists into a crow-shape again and takes flight. Ahiga flits up and out of a hole in the top of the hangar, an old window with broken glass near the top.

    --END SCENE--
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