The Bronson Orphanage
Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Hardin attacks
Locke attacks
As Zwer falls, Hardin makes a move for a better target. He moves to get a better angle on the cluster of Moira, Locke, and Sir William as they circle Cookie. Lifting the shotgun to his shoulder, he squeezes off a burst, battering the armor of the powerful hybrid. Locke takes another swipe, but the juicer is just too quick and the blow misses.Hardin and Jane
- Neeto Cogcoil
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Neeto annoys Cookie
Neeto lets out a sigh as Zwer's spirit departs her body. "Good. She bothered me. Hacked up my buddy, too." He turns to the brawl in the entry and draws a bead on Cookie. "Hey you. Yer lookin' a little sweaty. Just give up and follow your friend, would ya?" He cranks the dial down on his Snazzy Gloves, firing the Heat Sinker in Cookie's direction. The juicer is hit with a charge from the gizmo, causing his body to superheat. His reflexes seem to slow noticeably, his swings and parries becoming more labored. "Yer allowed to give up if ya want!"Neeto
- Ndreare
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
[dice:1make2zc]46045:0[/dice:1make2zc]
[dice:1make2zc]46045:1[/dice:1make2zc]
[dice:1make2zc]46045:1[/dice:1make2zc]
, and of course update your signatures!
"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
- Vincent Gray
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Fighting 7 if hits 25 damage
Moira grins as she sees Cookie zapped by the gremlin and takes another swing at him.Signature
- Kaja Earthblooded
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
LC psychic screams because that's the right thing to do
The psionic reaches out with his mind to cancel the enchantments augmenting Cookie. Instead, he blows a fuse and his mind screams out, racking Cookie, Locke, Moira, and Sir William with his psychic pain.Locke resistance
Locke's brain rebels against the psychic scream, and he grasps his head in anguish.Kaja the Earthblooded of House Ragan
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Cookie, All others with LBT please make a Spirit roll
The psychic force hitting Cookie is enough he stumbles a moment and then clears his head, finally time to get even. Suddenly a voice rings out through the whole building as if the building itself was speaking. "Cook, remember the plan."Cookie's mind clears and he looks around before whispering. "They murdered her." and in a dash takes off. But his dash leads to a stumble as he is unable to fight the pain off enough to muster the strength to swing his weapon or leave his pinned location.
Suddenly his body stiffens and jerks before falling to the ground unconscious.
OOC Comments
A deadly quite falls over the orphanage as the heroes look around for more threats, but they appear to all be gone. Only Cookie remains and he lies now on the ground incapacitated by something.
Whimpering can be heard from upstairs and those with psychic awareness can feel the fear and pain still in the building as a wet wind rushes through, the illumination from outside brightens, then turns again to a reddish haze.
Then the walls themselves tremble as a voice again fills everything. "Leave now and I will let you return to your world. But stay here and you will be trapped for eternity and I will spend your years making you wish for death as your every action will accomplish nothing and the emptiness of your existence consumes you."
WE ARE NO LONGER IN COMBAT
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"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
- Neeto Cogcoil
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Neeto shakes his head vigorously, trying to get the hideous voice out of his ears. "I don't ever wanna hear that voice again. I'm tapped out an' I don't know how much more luck I got. But that big fat bastard stepped on kids. I could maybe pump some more juice into that little zapper widget I got, but we gotta go with better plannin' this time. Splittin' up all wing an' nut near got us all killed. An' who the hell warns the bad guys we're comin'?" He looks over the faces of his new teammates. "So...we ain't runnin', right? Leavin' kids to get et by that hairy warthead? That ain't what you do is it?"
Neeto
- Miles RAD Radoslav
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Spirit 17
Taunt 10
Sir William shakes his head, focusing the mental discipline honed through years of Cyber Knight training, and allows the force of LC's psychic scream to wash over him without effect. Turning to Neeto, he replies "Indeed, comrade, that is not who we are." He raises his psiswords into a fighting stance. "Demon! Stand forth! I, Sir William of the noble order of the Cyber Knights, will meet your fury with my blades. Flee or die!"SWADE
Rad
Re: The Bronson Orphanage
OOC Comments
With combat finish, Leethe powers fade, she doesn't have the ISP to maintain them. Her fancy magical girl suit breaks into shards of light and she is back in her normal armor. She is visibly wounded, leaning on her sword. She closes her eyes and says a pray for Zwer. After a moment of silence. She activates the Integrated IRMSS on her CAF Elite Corps Load-Bearing Chest Rig. "I hope this works." IRMSS Healing 10
The chest rig injects the nanobots into Leethe and they go at their work on fixing her. She looks to be in less pain almost immediately as her wound in her belly starts to disappear. She moves over to the closest injured child and starts does a quick examination to see if she can move the child, being unskilled doesn't help
Healing 2
She looks frustrated that she can't tell if it is safe to move the child. She turns to the others and says, "Okay guys, what's the plan here? I'm almost completely drained."Status Tracker
Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Spirit
Foxx massages her temple as the demons infernal ranting begins to give her a migraine. That alone is reason enough to put him down in order to shut him up; if she had the power she would torture him for the deaths of the children caused by his being her here. Listening to the others, "I still have enough power to go after him. If we do not, he will simply start someplace else with a new cast of miscreants." She is torn between going after the creature, but not at the peril of her comrades. She could see that they were worn and injured. She also was not without injury, but she could still prevail in a fight. "The one that was killed, her soul went towards the chapel. That could be a place of power for it."
Fauxalyn Norquinal
- Neeto Cogcoil
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Neeto's new gadget - Smite
Neeto nods at Hardin. "Alright, tough guy. Here's yer whizbang gadget. It's got phantasmic ducting coils to route some silver compounds into the chamber of whatever yer shootin'. Big fatty ain't gonna like that."Neeto
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Hardin's player has chosen Blaze of Glory as a better way to conclude his story. He was offered being allowed fair rolls for a chance at the demon or being able to remove the head master and the demon flees as originally planned.
Please be patient as Hardin's player and I work out his Blaze.
Please be patient as Hardin's player and I work out his Blaze.
, and of course update your signatures!
"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
Re: The Bronson Orphanage
”Thanks,” Hardin says, taking the proffered device.Neeto Cogcoil wrote: ↑Tue Nov 20, 2018 12:58 pmNeeto's new gadget - SmiteNeeto nods at Hardin. "Alright, tough guy. Here's yer whizbang gadget. It's got phantasmic ducting coils to route some silver compounds into the chamber of whatever yer shootin'. Big fatty ain't gonna like that."
Before the Violence
The Violence
The Damage
Results
SEE POST BELOWHardin and Jane
Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Notice 10
Foxx has nothing more to say about the cowboy going alone to fight the demon. She heads for the nearest stairs to begin searching for children to muster them out of the devil's orphanage. She pulls off the rebreather mask to lessen the appearance of the fierce Leyline walker. "Children? We're here to help you. We're going to take you away from the dangers here!"Fauxalyn Norquinal
Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Hardin approaches the chapel doors. Whelp, this is probably the stupidest thing ah’ve ever done, he thinks. Might also be the most right thing ah’ve ever done.
Angling his neck from side to side, he works out some of the cricks he gathered while up in the sniper’s nest and loosens up for the coming fight. Reckon ah won’t get to use my Judgment Day again once Mac’s finished with it. Too bad; that was turnin’ into a fine rifle.
The Queen is there, of course, looking resplendent in her battle mail, a long, elegant sword sheathed at her hip. She walks up to Hardin and reaches out, cupping his cheek in her hand. In his mind, he hears her speak for the first time since that Rift opened and showed her to him all those years ago, Make me proud, elf-child.
He closes his eyes briefly, letting the words wash over him. Make me proud, she said. Hardin Jones can do proud.
He fires up his radio and says, "Hey, Sargento. You get ‘em out, will ya? An have someone take care of my horse; ah’ve got a little sister, Molly, who might come lookin’ fer her one of these days. She’s with the Legion out West. Least, she was last time ah talked with her. He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words, but that’s not really his strong suit. “Been a pleasure, Lawrence. Don’t know how long ah can give y’all, but make ‘em count. With any luck, ah’ll just kill this thing an’ meet you outside.”
With that, Hardin activates the odd device Neeto gave him, charging his weapons with magical silver energy, of all things. At the same time, he flips on the device Leethe handed him, arcane armor flowing around him. Those two sure are handy to have around. He picks up a fallen JA-9 rifle and holds it and the dispel grenade aloft with his mind, power flowing out of him. Finally, he adjusts the rifle stock against his shoulder, lets out a long breath, and moves!
With a single, hard kick, he breaches the chapel doors, moving inside quickly but steadily, keeping the shotgun up. He is greeted by the site of the enormous demon standing near the pulpit, its hateful eyes on the door as if expecting Hardin’s arrival, surrounded by another bunch of earth djinn. The headmaster is lurking nearby, not quite next to the demon, but not so far away as to trumpet cowardice.
Before the demon can say anything, Hardin lets loose the dispel grenade, flinging it with his mind to land in the exact center of the mass of djinn and Zarbun. He doesn’t wait to see if the grenade works, instead immediately firing the JA-9 at the demon’s head and scoring a hit. The creature seems to recoil a bit, but the shot doesn’t do any visible damage that Hardin can see.
Continuing to advance toward his target, he lets fly a burst of slugs from the GAW, marveling again at how smoothly the weapon accounts for recoil. That’s some fine work, Mac, he thinks.
As before, Hardin’s burst hits true and one of the magically-charged slugs takes Zarbun right in the eye, putting him down in spectacular fashion. The left half of Zarbun’s face melts, presumably from the effects of the silver, and his brains explode out against the wall behind him a grisly fountain of meat and blood. The body stands for a moment as if deciding what to do, and then begins thrashing wildly, blood spraying freely from the now exposed neck and open skull, painting the room. Hardin, still advancing as he prepares to fire again, is drenched in gore and finds himself missing his duster.
The headmaster begins to exclaim something, but Hardin puts a burst of slugs in him, too, leaving him on the ground with his master. He turns to face the djinn, but is pleased to see that the dispel grenade has done its work and they are simply gone.
Eyes scanning the room for any more threats, Hardin wonders if he might have actually managed to pull it off without dying. Gotta let Neeto know his little gizmo worked like a charm.
Before he can relax, though, an oily thought, not his own and not his Queen’s, enters his mind.
That’s my blood on your face, mortal. My blood and my life and my power! Idiot child, did you think you could simply shoot me with one of your toys and then walk away? This is the seat of my strength, and you cannot conceive but to attack my body?
Hardin staggers at the mental assault, as the demon creeps into his brain. What?! Dropping to one knee, Hardin can feel Zarbun seeping into his consciousness, the demonic blood burning where it touches Hardin’s body.
A psi-slinger, then? Certainly no substitute for my own form, but strong enough for what comes next. You, Hardin is it? I will let you watch while I slaughter your friends using your own hands. Will you enjoy that? Will you enjoy seeing the anguish behind the eyes of these mewling children as I pull the life out of them? Now, blood of my blood, you belong to me!
Hardin has never understood why people, good or bad, like to talk so much during a fight. What a waste of energy.
So he spares no words for the demon, instead working out what’s going on for himself. “Blood of my blood”, the creature had said. Blood is the key to Zarbun’s body hopping. And blood is the key to killing him.
Discarding his shotgun and letting the rifle fall, Hardin focuses his telekinesis elsewhere. He can feel himself losing control as the demon takes over, but “takes over” is a world away from “taken over”, and he still has time to think. With the slightest force of will, he applies his ‘kinesis for one last kill.
The Queen stands by Hardin’s side, resolute, and Zarbun doesn’t catch on nearly quick enough. The last sound Hardin hears as his blood flow stops and the lights go out are the impotent screams of a trapped demon, a melody he happily rides into whatever the next life holds.
Angling his neck from side to side, he works out some of the cricks he gathered while up in the sniper’s nest and loosens up for the coming fight. Reckon ah won’t get to use my Judgment Day again once Mac’s finished with it. Too bad; that was turnin’ into a fine rifle.
The Queen is there, of course, looking resplendent in her battle mail, a long, elegant sword sheathed at her hip. She walks up to Hardin and reaches out, cupping his cheek in her hand. In his mind, he hears her speak for the first time since that Rift opened and showed her to him all those years ago, Make me proud, elf-child.
He closes his eyes briefly, letting the words wash over him. Make me proud, she said. Hardin Jones can do proud.
He fires up his radio and says, "Hey, Sargento. You get ‘em out, will ya? An have someone take care of my horse; ah’ve got a little sister, Molly, who might come lookin’ fer her one of these days. She’s with the Legion out West. Least, she was last time ah talked with her. He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words, but that’s not really his strong suit. “Been a pleasure, Lawrence. Don’t know how long ah can give y’all, but make ‘em count. With any luck, ah’ll just kill this thing an’ meet you outside.”
With that, Hardin activates the odd device Neeto gave him, charging his weapons with magical silver energy, of all things. At the same time, he flips on the device Leethe handed him, arcane armor flowing around him. Those two sure are handy to have around. He picks up a fallen JA-9 rifle and holds it and the dispel grenade aloft with his mind, power flowing out of him. Finally, he adjusts the rifle stock against his shoulder, lets out a long breath, and moves!
With a single, hard kick, he breaches the chapel doors, moving inside quickly but steadily, keeping the shotgun up. He is greeted by the site of the enormous demon standing near the pulpit, its hateful eyes on the door as if expecting Hardin’s arrival, surrounded by another bunch of earth djinn. The headmaster is lurking nearby, not quite next to the demon, but not so far away as to trumpet cowardice.
Before the demon can say anything, Hardin lets loose the dispel grenade, flinging it with his mind to land in the exact center of the mass of djinn and Zarbun. He doesn’t wait to see if the grenade works, instead immediately firing the JA-9 at the demon’s head and scoring a hit. The creature seems to recoil a bit, but the shot doesn’t do any visible damage that Hardin can see.
Continuing to advance toward his target, he lets fly a burst of slugs from the GAW, marveling again at how smoothly the weapon accounts for recoil. That’s some fine work, Mac, he thinks.
As before, Hardin’s burst hits true and one of the magically-charged slugs takes Zarbun right in the eye, putting him down in spectacular fashion. The left half of Zarbun’s face melts, presumably from the effects of the silver, and his brains explode out against the wall behind him a grisly fountain of meat and blood. The body stands for a moment as if deciding what to do, and then begins thrashing wildly, blood spraying freely from the now exposed neck and open skull, painting the room. Hardin, still advancing as he prepares to fire again, is drenched in gore and finds himself missing his duster.
The headmaster begins to exclaim something, but Hardin puts a burst of slugs in him, too, leaving him on the ground with his master. He turns to face the djinn, but is pleased to see that the dispel grenade has done its work and they are simply gone.
Eyes scanning the room for any more threats, Hardin wonders if he might have actually managed to pull it off without dying. Gotta let Neeto know his little gizmo worked like a charm.
Before he can relax, though, an oily thought, not his own and not his Queen’s, enters his mind.
That’s my blood on your face, mortal. My blood and my life and my power! Idiot child, did you think you could simply shoot me with one of your toys and then walk away? This is the seat of my strength, and you cannot conceive but to attack my body?
Hardin staggers at the mental assault, as the demon creeps into his brain. What?! Dropping to one knee, Hardin can feel Zarbun seeping into his consciousness, the demonic blood burning where it touches Hardin’s body.
A psi-slinger, then? Certainly no substitute for my own form, but strong enough for what comes next. You, Hardin is it? I will let you watch while I slaughter your friends using your own hands. Will you enjoy that? Will you enjoy seeing the anguish behind the eyes of these mewling children as I pull the life out of them? Now, blood of my blood, you belong to me!
Hardin has never understood why people, good or bad, like to talk so much during a fight. What a waste of energy.
So he spares no words for the demon, instead working out what’s going on for himself. “Blood of my blood”, the creature had said. Blood is the key to Zarbun’s body hopping. And blood is the key to killing him.
Discarding his shotgun and letting the rifle fall, Hardin focuses his telekinesis elsewhere. He can feel himself losing control as the demon takes over, but “takes over” is a world away from “taken over”, and he still has time to think. With the slightest force of will, he applies his ‘kinesis for one last kill.
The Queen stands by Hardin’s side, resolute, and Zarbun doesn’t catch on nearly quick enough. The last sound Hardin hears as his blood flow stops and the lights go out are the impotent screams of a trapped demon, a melody he happily rides into whatever the next life holds.
Hardin and Jane
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
As Hardin commits to buying time for the children to be saved and the rest of the team goes to work checking the three story building for other children. Soon things take a serious turn for the worse. The walls themselves begin to breath in staggered breaths as blood begins dripping from the ceiling and walls. The rolling floors suddenly become like flesh and blood twisting and writhing making it near impossible to stand or walk.
Looking through the windows presents a harrowing scene of a parched endless landscape with an impossible to understand lack of depth. Through one window a view of a endless cold tundra covered in nothing but sprinkled snow and frozen dead animals. Another window shows a glimpse of a city covered in flames, burning as the apparently low tech city is destroyed, filled with human men and women in gangs killing each other simpy for the color of their skin. Yet a third window shows castle Refuge itself, somehow hundreds of miles away even the details of the grains of dirt on the ground can be seen, but sitting atop the castle are four demon princes each as large as the castle itself. They turn and look in your direction, offering no expression as if the events of your story was to far beneath them to bear notice.
Each window show a more alien and strange series of events, each filled with the misery that these demons fed off of. Pain, Desire, Hatred, and Envy are all that can be seen. Eventually it reaches the point that looking through the windows is too much, as your souls are being affected by the darkness witnessed. Each view like living a lifetime in the scene perceived. How can such evil be slowed, it reaches out to so many worlds, to so many places, from the slightest whisper in a babies ear to hit his sister and steal her binky, to the overt action of forming pacts with shifters each of whom fools himself into thinking he is in control. It is too much, it is too much.
Looking through the windows presents a harrowing scene of a parched endless landscape with an impossible to understand lack of depth. Through one window a view of a endless cold tundra covered in nothing but sprinkled snow and frozen dead animals. Another window shows a glimpse of a city covered in flames, burning as the apparently low tech city is destroyed, filled with human men and women in gangs killing each other simpy for the color of their skin. Yet a third window shows castle Refuge itself, somehow hundreds of miles away even the details of the grains of dirt on the ground can be seen, but sitting atop the castle are four demon princes each as large as the castle itself. They turn and look in your direction, offering no expression as if the events of your story was to far beneath them to bear notice.
Each window show a more alien and strange series of events, each filled with the misery that these demons fed off of. Pain, Desire, Hatred, and Envy are all that can be seen. Eventually it reaches the point that looking through the windows is too much, as your souls are being affected by the darkness witnessed. Each view like living a lifetime in the scene perceived. How can such evil be slowed, it reaches out to so many worlds, to so many places, from the slightest whisper in a babies ear to hit his sister and steal her binky, to the overt action of forming pacts with shifters each of whom fools himself into thinking he is in control. It is too much, it is too much.
PLAYER INSTRUCTIONS
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"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
- Ndreare
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
I sometimes forget not everyone has been in on of Pender's amazing games.
Information Request from Players
Legendary Tables = For This Game Do Not Roll, Select Your Result Instead
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"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
"Possible and practical are two comrades who rarely see eye to eye."
Rob Towell
- Vincent Gray
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
6 Children saved
As the floor writhes and moves Vincent sprints upstairs, calling out for children hoping they will hear his voice and make it easier. He grabs a couple and nimbly dodging a piece of floor that has opened up into a maw of glistening teeth, pushes them out of the pocket dimension and into the relative safety of the real world. He disappears again into the orphanage, this time a piece of wall explodes into a throbbing spiked tentacle which nearly puts his eye out. Vincent grabs at the wound, and fortunately finds another pair of children, which he again escorts out of the hellish dimension. Against any reason, he darts back into the pulsing dripping pocket dimension and yet again finds a pair of children. Just as he pushes them out into the real world a piece of the orphanage drips from the ceiling, covering his head in a boiling wad of flesh. Vincent drops to the ground, unable to speak as the floor begins to chew and absorb him into the flesh of the orphanage.
Last edited by Vincent Gray on Mon Nov 26, 2018 8:09 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Signature
Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Dramatic Task 10, Hell roll 5
So this was possibly the end. A century of study and adventuring culminating in a messed up rescue and potential relocation to one of the worse dimensions a lifeform could go to; alive. Not another day in the life of the magic user dark elf. Things got serious in a hurry, and they had little time to fool around. Still, they had responsibilities to attend too and children to save. Naturally, the poor darlings were hiding from the terrible things going on around them. Foxx did not blame them; she wanted to join them in hiding. That sentiment would not do, she was a hero from a line of heroes. She pressed on, dashing up the stairs trying in vain to block out the images of the chaos flashing by the windows. What was going on outside was worse than any Leyline storm she witnessed. There was a rip in the fabric of reality, and the orphanage was right in the middle. This is the reason why she hates dealing with demons.
The first stairwell she releases several magical bolts into a rushing horde of Orks that appear in the hall. Why, no reason, either they crashed into the building, or the building just wiped out a whole battlefield of the creatures. The only thing more terrible than the monstrous encounters was the magic energy fighting to tear her mind apart. She feels something give, but she pushes on regardless, someone grabbing a child along the way. Somehow she grabbed a chair and lunged out of the room, a child in arm.
Not enough, but her small contribution would add to the numbers as the team continued to fight for life and sanity to save the children. They had promised they would, and after the toll they paid, they were going to do it.
Legendary Table
[dice:1igu7bxl]46336:5[/dice:1igu7bxl]
Last edited by Foxx on Thu Dec 06, 2018 10:15 am, edited 5 times in total.
Fauxalyn Norquinal
- Miles RAD Radoslav
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Seven Children saved (29), staying in Hell
Seeing the vulnerable children,Sir William leaps into action. With incredible speed, surrounded by a crackling blue psionic aura, he runs for the upper floors. The stairways seem to writhe like living things, and the handrails shift into icy tentacles, sucking the very life force from his body. One after the next, he carries pairs of children from the third floor to the portal, thrusting them back into Wheaton and spinning immediately to return for more. As the portal begins to close, he returns with one last child, passing her through the portal as it closes before him. "Now let us see how I do battle with Hell itself," he thinks, manifesting his psi-swords and awaiting his destiny.Rad
- Neeto Cogcoil
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Neeto saves the masses - 7 children saved
The building heaves and rolls, crumbling in on itself. The walls bleed, slicking the floor with foul demonic ichor. The windows play scenes like a TV scanning channels of the worst horrors imaginable. It starts off mild; images of children in squalor, hoping to catch the flies that land on their gaunt frames in order to eat their day's meal. Neeto races by, trying to find some of the children in the orphanage. The next window shows women buried to their necks while men sit in judgment of their crime, throwing stones at their exposed heads, the offense being the accidental display of unclothed shins. There's gotta be more kids in here! Neeto rips open a wall that resembles a kidney, pulling three children from inside and leading them to the gateway.Men are crucified, upside down, for the words they spoke. Lashes from the whip flay the skin from their bones. Worst holovid I've ever watched! What in hell is wrong with these people?! They say goblins are nasty!
Worse still are the tortures. Hearts ripped from living chests and devoured in death cult worship. Savages punishing heretics with ripping fingers from hands, hammering toes, a thousand cuts. Neeto bashes his neural mace into floorboards that resemble gritted teeth, finding a pair of children being pulled deeper into the mouth-like cavity by a razor sharp appendage that must be a tongue. He reaches down, zapping both kids with his Tazer Tweaker, giving them a jolt to get up and out. "Out ya go and through the door!"
Neeto growls as he flings a bed over, finding more children hidden underneath. The scenes of anguish that play through the windows wreak havoc on his soul. "Come on kids. This place ain't fit fer ya! Down the stairs and out the front, just like Uncle Neeto told ya. Good on ya!"
Contrary to his sense of self-preservation, he keeps plumbing the depths of this grotesque place, hoping to find another child. Unfortunately, his luck runs out, as a door in the building stretches out, wrapping the doorknob/tentacle around his chest, preventing him from exiting. "OY! I don't think we're gettin' outta here. See ya on the other side!" He manages to wriggle free, but only after the portal closes.
"Well, snit."
Legendary Tables
Neeto
Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Dramatic Task 10
"Let's get these children out of here and then see what we can do about those who came with us." Being not much more then a child herself physically, She isn't able to move as many out as the others. Leethe picks up the child she was attending and carries them out of the area. She then comes back and picks up another child that was injured and carries them out. She comes back to find more children. The gateway back to the real world slams shut as everything changes.
Legendary Table
Last edited by Leethe on Mon Dec 10, 2018 11:27 am, edited 2 times in total.
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- Snake Eyes
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Moira - saves 4
LC - saves 2
Locke - saves 1
Moira, LC, and Locke work feverishly to search the orphanage for children, carrying several to the portal, committed completely to the task at risk of their own souls.Beware the mesmerizing eyes of the snake!
12th AAT Bennies
Prestige Unlimited Bennies
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Re: The Bronson Orphanage
Dramatic Task (Agility) 3 Children Saved
Rob darts through the building, hacking down any abominations that try to stop him. He dives through a doorway that turns into a toothy maw and grabs up a child before the floor swallows it up. Heading back in he barely manages to keep his footing as the floor shifts and he dodges the tendrils that spring from the walls. He manages to find his way to two more children, running as fast as he can to bring them to safety."Robots, why did it have to be robots..."
Rob Hunter, M.A.R.S. Power Armor Pilot