Thriller Blood Moon: Rise of the Lycans (A werewolf RPG)

IC: Josephus 'Joph' Carter
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - Construction Site, West 46th Street.

We enter the site without incident. My Sabatons (improved with thick, heavily cleated, rubber lower-soles rivetted onto their metal sole-plates) make me immune to the pieces of shrapnel that Kevin warned us about. They even make me immune to full-blown Caltrops! Mental note to self;- ask if the group have tried setting out Caltrops or spiked boards in the vicinity of St Patrick's to inconvenience/injure attacking Beasts and/or deny them certain avenues of approach....and if not, why not?

There's a lot of gear and materials piled up around the area but I don't think any of it will be usable before warmer weather sets in. Like the stuff dangling under the cranes, the piles are almost certain to be frozen solid. I note the presence of the vehicles, especially the dump-trucks, for possible future exploitation; no vehicle batteries will retain charge after all this time and exposure to sub-zero temperatures, but many dump-trucks still have the old 'start-by-handle' system, if only as a backup method. Once one of those can be persuaded to run, most every other vehicle on a site can then be tow-started - the things one picks up from having a good childhood friend whose father was a builder, if only on a fairly small scale, and the opportunity to roam around his yard! However, that's maybe for the future, definitely not for today.

What I am mainly looking for, but don't seem to be able to spot, is anything resembling a Site Office. While not too important in itself, the Site Store(s); containing all the small tools (Pneumatic Drills - 'Jackhammers' over here - ordinary power-drills, crowbars, shovels and all the other semi-portable kit used on-site) will, if there's a similar theft problem or similar safety regime on American Construction Sites, be located very close by; where people can keep an eye on them. That's where spare Acrow Props and other useful goodies are most likely to be found.

I notice Kevin veering off in the direction of the building and trudge over that way myself. Definite tracks in the snow, looking recently made, too!

I move next to him and say "Humans, Beasts or both, would you say, Kevin?"


TAG: Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo.

 

IC: Kevin O'Brian
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - At the construction site

As they came into the construction site with its deadly sentinels standing guard without incidence, he softly thanked the Lord to have been able to make it and that the cranes had not fallen and no beasts had been seen or humans even. Not that one could much be tellin' the difference between either creature at a moon time like this very often. Settling it as a good providence they made their way in. Until something caught his eye in the uneven know that brought him to a side a bit.

The girl was prattling well enough about their good chances of finding what they needed, something else had his too much to celebrate. The Brit answered the prints well enough, only to ask the most naive question about them. "Ye might as well learn, there is no telling. These were human shaped disturbances, whether it been a human nor not, ye have a better chance divining when spring will start and stay." Shaking his head he looked back at Gustavo and the girl waving.

"Company." he simply stated louder for the two to hear. That would keep Gustavo on his toes. "Right," he said once more to the Brit, "Well, where ye reckon yer Acrow's be Joph?" It was good enough to make a way here, but with company possibly nearby he didn't want to waste any time as he continued to scan around and above them. His head moving every which way, as whether coming or going tis simple enough for someone to walk backwards as forwards through a set of tracks without using a sled.

TAG: greyjedi125, Tim Battershell, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

IC: Josephus 'Joph' Carter
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - Construction Site, West 46th Street.

Kevin classifies the footprints as Humaniform only, which means they must have been made while the moon was down. That's slightly reassuring. If Beasts were regularly using this building as a dormitory/den, they'd very likely have left their altered-form footprints when they went out on the hunt.

Noticing that the entrance hasn't been fully finished off with a proper doorway but has a set of wide vertical plastic strips covering it instead, I make a beckoning gesture in Gus's and Angela's direction to suggest they start moving in our direction while I attempt to answer Kevin's question.

"No sign of a Site Office, Lock-up Stores or even Portaloos out here, that I can see, Kevin; and it'll likely all be frozen in place anyway. I think we'll have to look inside, which would make sense from the Security-bods' point of view - everything, including the internal stairs - under their eyes as much as possible. Spare Acrows and any other goodies would likely be in the Lock-up Stores.

So, one of the team covering my back and the others guarding the outside access and each other from behind something fairly solid, sound good to you?


TAG: Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo.

 

IC: Gustavo ‘Guts’ Guerrero
West 46th Street, Manhattan-Early Afternoon

A shiver went through him when he saw it…and not from the cold.

Foot prints in the fresh snow -and not just one track- but several.

From Kevin, Guts hears confirmation. “Company.”

That was more than enough for him Guts to bring up his rifle ad level it to ready position. No contact had been made yet, so what kind of company was not certain, whether lykan or human…but there were folks about, that was for sure.

At least there was no blood in the snow, at least…not yet.

This time around, the young watcher conducted a more thorough sweep of the area while using his rifle’s targeting scope. He could see deeper into the buildings around them as well as pick up heat signatures should there be any.

As he did so, Guts also managed to take a glance at Angela. It was important that she remain calm and focused. This was a good opportunity to see if she was ‘watcher’ material.

Guts didn’t know if the group’s progress was being watched, but he was going to assume that it was. As to who would be watching them? Well, the choices were few indeed.

“Angela….” Guts began saying in a low voice as he checked behind them. “Make a visual sweep of the area, three-hundred and sixty degrees, both high and lower planes…just in case I miss anything. If you see anything, report it. Stay alert, stay calm and be ready. Always remain in control of the field, always have a plan.”

Ironically enough, he hadn’t expected to be the one to do any ‘abbreviated training’ during this outing, simply because Kevin was much better at these things, but Kevin was busy figuring out the most efficient way to get the job done, as he always did.

…Ok, Joph. Let’s see what you got… Guts thought with no small amount of irony. To tell the truth, he would’ve much rather not encounter any lykans at all, no matter how curious he was about the ‘Tin Man’s’ skills, but there was only one way to see him in action…and that was in the face of danger, deathly danger.

Putting aside idle fancies, Guts stayed focused and listened to the conversation between Joph and Kevin. If he was a betting man ( which he was not ), he would have struck it rich just now. Guts just ‘knew’ they would have to go inside.

“Perimeter clear.” The young watcher called out, but still continued to scan the area with is rifle. He already knew how these things worked. The moment you declared an area ‘cleared’, that was when multiple ‘contacts’ always tended to appear.


Tag: @Mitth_Fisto, @Tim Battershell, @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

IC: Josephus 'Joph' Carter
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - Construction Site, West 46th Street.

Hearing Gus pronounce the area clear of visible threats, I leave Kevin to arrange who will perform which covering function while I prepare for a cautious close reconnaissance of the under-construction building.

When setting out from St Patrick's, I'd hung my Gathering Bag so it hid my sword hilt from view; now I twitch the bag around to restore free access to the weapon. Then I extract a shaft from the quiver and nock it to the bowstring, holding it in place with my left forefinger so my right hand is freed for other uses.

It's not often thought of, even more rarely used but, in addition to being loosed conventionally from a drawn bow, an arrow can also be employed as an extemporised dagger (though usually at the cost of wrecking the fletching). My bodkin-point shafts will be, I think, highly effective as daggers, due to the swatch of wolfsbane-soaked-cloth whipped to the thinner 'neck' behind the bodkin-point. To reduce the chances of the cloth drying out, that area of each arrow has been enclosed in a tube of waxed paper, which has also been wax-sealed to the shaft at both ends. The idea is that the waxed paper tube will be forced up the length of the shaft on impact, allowing the cloth swatch to contact the sides of the wound as it penetrates, so distributing the poison inside the wound track.

I then approach the left-hand side of the weather-strip guarded aperture (that side's closest) and, holding it at arm's length, use the tip of my bow's upper limb to carefully move aside one of the vertical plastic slats to observe.

Jackpot!

To my far right, and nearest the entrance, a Portacabin, positioned parallel to the far wall and with (a now smashed) window let into its long side. From its positioning and the way it's been tricked out, a common or garden Site Office, at least to my eye.

Going further into what I call the 'ground floor' are three twenty-foot shipping/transport Containers, turned door-end-on to the open space. In contrast to the Site Office, whose jack-pads are only resting on planks, all of these Containers have been deposited onto a raft of large, square, protective boards, about one and a half metres per side. The Portacabin was probably (as I have often seen done) placed directly into that location with some form of forklift but the (heavier) Containers would probably have had to have been rolled into their final positions on short scaffolding poles, then tipped-up to extract the rollers; hence the need to protect the flooring. All the containers' doors seem to be closed but there's an interesting pile of discoloured sand on the boards outside the middle one.

More towards the centre of the space, and going out of my sight-line, is a group of trailers; probably trailer-mounted Air Compressors, but, on the right edge of the group is a solitary Dump-truck. Its paintwork and tyres look absolutely pristine in the available light


TAG: Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo.

 

IC: Kevin O'Brian
Christmas Afternoon, 2065, West 46th Str construction site

The kid was taking care of the young girl like a seasoned expeditionary leader and he was proud of the lad for it. They all needed to grow and get better at surviving and part of that was learned in teaching others. He knew from his own experience that he was better for having led and taught others, there was truth to the saying that 'ye learn from teaching better than merely the taking'. He was glad to see Gustavo step up to do so himself.

Nodding at Joph he leaned his head toward the door, "Beauty before age." he simply said with a smile, "Cover the door you two." He called back before following Joph inside. The fact that he didn't tell them to keep their eyes open was more because it was a given outside of the church. Following Joph inside he let the man lead the way as he performed more of a covering action. Rifle at the ready he was scanning high, low and as far as his line of sight could go. Anything from an odd shadow to subtle noise could be a clue before an attack began. The look of one of the containers being different from the other two gave him pause, there were too many explanations but just as many reasons it should not be there. He despised coincidence outside the church, and so far this mission was looking to be chalk full of them. "Bugger." he simply breathed as he kept at the ready. Luckily it look like Joph had shifted for the same. "We'll have to take a peek ye know."

TAG: Tim Battershell, greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

Michelle Lawton

25 December, 2065 – Just After Noon​

St. Patrick's Cathedral​

With the two parties having left to go find a new lock for the bronze doors, all that remained at the cathedral were the few sentries outside and in the towers and the people who were not on duty or too young or too old to participate in the defense of the building. Among these people was Michelle Lawton, a former judge for the New York Court of Appeals. Now one would think what could a judge possibly do for a group of survivors in a post-apocalyptic world where werewolves were real and humanity had abandoned everyone on the island?​

​

Someone had to mediate disputes and keep the law among them or else wise they would be reduced to anarchy, of course! So becoming the sanctuary's only judicial figure with Father Minghan's support behind her, Michelle dealt with the more serious offenses that the good priest felt was necessary for her to deal with, being that she was a woman of the Law and Justice, and often settled problems between opposing parties. Fortunately such offenses did not occur often in the ten years they were all trapped on the island.​

​

But when they did, everyone respected her decisions. Only once had she had to deal with a serious case involving the murder of a young man by another young man over something as petty as the affections of a woman they both liked. There was no jury involved, how could there be one when everyone selected would have had a biased opinion on what had happened? Gossip spread in the cathedral faster than the lycan plague and by the time the case started, the trial would have been thrown out for simply having a compromised jury. So she had to be judge and jury, thankfully she didn't have to be the executioner alone.​

​

The young man, in the end, had been found guilty and sentenced to banishment from the cathedral after deliberation with Minghan and Tala on what to do with him. No one ever saw or heard from him again.​

​

Now though, this Christmas morning, had proven to be frightful and gay simultaneously. Despite the fright they all had with the lycan attack and the godly display of the beast burning after stepping foot onto holy ground, the day was proving to be rather pleasant and quiet.​

​

Minghan's little outburst against their only doctor and threatening to banish him was a concern, however. It wasn't often the man lost his temper and perhaps after ten years of loss was finally getting to the man. Speaking of the priest, Michelle would notice him sitting alone in one of the front pews, fingering the crosses that had been taken from the attacking lycans. He seemed lost in thought. Earlier she had seen him talking to Sister Tala but not what about and they both had been worried before Tala wandered off to help with the daily chores and he had revealed the knight's Christmas gift to everyone.​

​

Now he sat alone, apparently lost in thought.​

TAG: @Master Selkath

Gustavo Guerrero, Josephus Carter, Kevin O'Brian, Angela

25 December, 2065 – Just After Noon​

Construction Site, West 46th Street, Manhattan​

​

Angela moved in with the group, not wanting to be outside in the snow where her inexperience would most likely get her killed. At least she thought so anyway. Better to be with the guys, she reasoned silently. Might be something interesting inside than a bunch of rust-buckets an'... ​

​

“Odd... that trail you saw Kevin, the snow is tracked inside too but I don't think they're the same one.” She gestured toward a few trails of snow that obviously came off of someones feet as they walked in from outdoors from different directions. It led toward a car ramp for a subterranean garage, but none of the trails came from the group of prints they had seen leading away from the building.​

​

All human, in the shape of boots.​

​

Angela approached the ramp cautiously, listening before she knelt down and touched something on the floor. “Blood,” she whispered quietly to the men and glanced at them on what to do. “It's leading in the direction of the trail we saw.”​

​

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto greyjedi125 Tim Battershell

 

IC: Josephus 'Joph' Carter
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - Construction Site, West 46th Street.

"We'll have to take a peek ye know.", Kevin remarks as we get close to the middle Container, which looks even more promising at close range.

"Yes indeed, Kevin.", I say, "But not quite yet, and very, very, carefully when we do. Unless I miss my guess, that is - or was - the Site Fuel Store. If there's any fuel left inside, I wouldn't have relied on just that dinky little padlock to secure it, I'd have made sure it was booby-trapped six ways from Sunday! Even though diesel isn't as volatile as petrol, it can still be made to go bang! I recommend we leave this one for last, just in case. First order of business, I think, is for me to check the stairs. Good thing about poured but unsealed concrete, it's always shedding dust, so I should be able to see if there's been anyone going up and down regularly; if you'll do the honours from here, please? Back in a jiffy!".

Keeping my bow up in the ready-to-draw position, I move across to where I can see up the first flight of stairs, then directly towards them. There is some blurred evidence of foot traffic in the dust, but nothing crisp and fresh. Nor do the dust deposits on the steps look at all uneven, as they probably would had some clever beggar tried sifting dust down from above to make the existing footprints look old. Check done, I return to Kevin by way of the Dump-truck, taking time out to lift the engine cover, seeing exactly what I expected to see, the fuel tank (almost empty) and the load area (completely vacant). I note it's one of the type that's steered by hydraulic-rams, and therefore much more manoeuvrable than the rear-wheel steering versions John and I used to run around the yard and an adjacent piece of waste ground as teenagers.

"Out of curiosity, ever driven one of those, Kevin?", I ask as I put the arrow back in the quiver, attach the bow to my Gathering Bag, draw my axe and move over to the Container nearest the Office.


TAG: Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo.

 

Zeeza N'dori - 25 December, 2065 – Just After Noon
Museum of Television and Radio - West 52nd Street

Zeeza looked around the room, noting how things looked torn apart. She noted the bedroll, and other items, most likely belonging to the human. Other things, cookware, a stove burner, a shredded tent and a rucksack with its contents spilled out haphazardly as if someone had rifled through it looking for something.

“A few might be promising,” Katia replied to Zee's earlier question. Zeeza walked into the room, as Katia noted, “This room was ransacked, not destroyed in the fight between them.” Zeeza frowned. "Wonder what they were looking for?" she asked to no one in particular. She looked back at the bedroll. Zee knew if she was trying to hide something, that would be the more likely place to hide it. She gingerly walked over to the item, as Katia spoke up once more. “The lycan was not alone. I would safely guess that his friends tore this place apart trying to find whatever the man had.”

Zeeza walked over to the bedroll, and very carefully unrolled it, gently patting it down for anything that might have been important enough for the wolvies to attack this guy, and pull his place apart. Also, the cook wear was something that could be used as well, when they were out on their expeditions. Guy might have some fuel left as well. But Zee wondered what could the guy have possibly had, that they thought it was important enough to jump him. Maybe she would find out, after examining the bedroll...


TAG: Heavy Isotope, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo,

 

IC: Kevin O'Brian
Construction Site, Afternoon Christmas Day, 2065

Looking over at Joph he raised an eyebrow, "No. But I bet ye I could kill it without a problem." he simply stated. He had never driven a dump truck in his life. Joph seemed to have an idea that he was more than just first to breach, and frankly he was a little irritated by it at the moment. After all covering him while he checked the stairs was not exactly his idea of clearing and checking out the immediate area first before splitting up inside. Although he didn't think anything he was going to do would sway the man, he was a Brit after all.

Then again he didn't have to as the girl came in and spotted the tracks and went too far for comfort toward a ramp going to the basement or sub basement parking that was famous in many NY high rises. His eyes bugged out a bit especially when she noted the blood. "Come here dearie, back away from there." Never go down if you can help it, the bloody things liked them as a wolf likes its den.

"Gustav' " he called softly as he got his weapon at the ready at his shoulder but still pointed down. When they got back he would give that led a good dressing down, a little position and the boyo had spoiled it by letting his watch go off half cocked, or rather half baked as she didn't seem to realize the possibly danger she was in. Human form or not, a foe was a foe in the bitter cold, and the blood spoke a volume of a wolf or a careless hunter. At the church they had the protection and the watch which kept an eye out for the beasties just as he and Gustavo had this morning. The fact they had seen no watchers and received no challenge this far spoke more to the beasts when the blood was taken into account. "Man in fear would not leave a trail so pungent." he simply stated. Perhaps it would quicken all of the others steps at this.

TAG: greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, Tim Battershell

 

IC: Josephus 'Joph' Carter
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - Construction Site, West 46th Street.

Judging by his expression, Kevin knows nothing, and cares even less, about driving a Dump-truck! Before I can start on an explanation, Angela discovers some boot-tracked snow over by what is probably a vehicle access to an underground parking area. Then she finds some blood!

Just as I'm thinking she's decided to descend and have a rummage around down there, Kevin calls her back. Good! Our mission is to get something to secure the door with, not to possibly stick our heads into a hornets' nest of Beasts. Not that I'm at all averse to sending the hell-spawn back where they came from, although I'm not really interested in racking up a score; I'd just prefer that they're in their Beast-forms when I do so. Zero chance of mistakenly killing a Human that way!

"No sign that anyone or anything has been up to or come down from the upper levels for weeks, if not months, at least not via the stairwell", I report to the group when Kevin finishes speaking. "Too much dust on the treads, and the only boot impressions there have been well blurred by fresh deposits.

My re-enactment 'Lord', 'Sir John de Binsted' is a builder and developer in real life, like his father before him, so John and I grew up around this sort of environment and this sort of equipment; this is a bigger build and has fancier kit but it's all still familiar". I refrain from mentioning our young-teen experiments with using one of John's dad's Dump-trucks to practice Tilting at a extemporised Quintain; with amusing, occasionally hilarious, results - those anecdotes aren't relevant here and now.

"If I'm right, the spare Acrows will be in one of the two end containers, the middle one looks like a Site Fuel Store to me. They're all padlocked, of course, but the padlocks are mainly for show. Trouble is, getting rid of them will be a bit noisy, and opening the containers is likely to be even more so, 'specially after all this time. No one ever oils the hinges on the Site Stores - it's a good anti-pilfering measure to let the doors creak, groan and screech when they're opened.

Then there's "Della the Dump-truck", over there. She'd make a very effective door-stop all on her own, must weigh a ton-and-a-half, with the option of filling her hopper with ballast to make her even heavier. Taking her with us will require laying our hands on some fuel, 'cause I doubt there's enough left in her tank to get her all the way back to St Patrick's. On the other hand, her outsize hopper makes her the biggest self-propelled shopping-cart anyone could wish for! Diesel-engine, too; meaning that we won't need a battery to get her started, she's got no electrical system at all, doesn't need one!

So what do you guys think?"


TAG: Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo.

 

IC: Gustavo ‘Guts’ Guerrero
West 46th Street, Manhattan. Early afternoon

Guts frowned once Angela mentioned she’d found blood. Fresh blood at that. Just great.

The young watcher brought up his rifle and continued to sweep their surroundings as he watched and listened for any sound or motion that did not belong to the group.

Angela seemed to have her own ideas as she moved on. She was the curious type it seemed. Kevin was none too thrilled with her brief exposure and recalled her back.

“Gustav.” The senior watcher called. Guts knew that tone all to well. If Kevin thought they were not alone, then it was quite likely they indeed were not. Guts took a moment to bring Madame X online with a flick of a switch. It was best if she were awake and warmed up…just in case.

Joph did a bit of looking around and returned, then he and Kevin engaged in some conversation. No conclusive determination was made as to what exactly was going on around them or who, but expedience was agreed on.

Joph mentioned a nearby dump-truck, which Guts looked at dubiously. No way that relic was still working, although it would be awesome to ride it back to St. Patrick’s. It was better than walking back encumbered and vulnerable, since it would also provide protection.

“I don’t drive.” Guts said plainly. As a city boy, he’d never really needed to learn and that opportunity was all but robbed from him after the massacre.

As for the noisy containers…..

“The sooner we get those…what did you call them? Ack….uhm, Acrows, yeah. The sooner we get them, the better. Me and Angela will cover your backs.”

From the tone in his voice, it was clear that Guts was steeling himself. He was already expecting trouble.

The watcher paused a moment, in case there were any further instructions. If not, Guts moved himself to a tactical position where he could cover the most area with his rifle and Madam X, if need be. With his chin, he pointed to where Angela should stand, so they both could provide maximum cover while Kevin and Joph pried open the containers.

In his mind, Guts hoped to heaven that they would not be empty.


Tag: @Mitth_Fisto, @Tim Battershell, @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

IC: Josephus 'Joph' Carter
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - Construction Site, West 46th Street.

Certain Hollywood films suggest that padlocks and/or chains can be cut through by slashing at them with a blade! What nonsense! In the real world, trying that would notch the blade at the very least, might even break it; even with 'for show' padlocks as flimsy as these appear to be!

Instead, after the others have adjusted their covering positions, I attack the padlocks with downward strokes from the butt-end of my axe's handle, held left-handed and with my right hand on top of the head (actually riding atop the 'socket') supplying most of the power. Either they were very worn or the insides have corroded virtually to nothingness over the years, because the shackles pop free of the bodies much sooner than I expect.

The Container that's furthest-in from the entrance turns out to be the domain of 'Flush and Flash' - a semi-amusing, and easily remembered, nickname coined when the old Plumbers' Union amalgamated with its Electricians' counterpart during the 'bust' part of one of last century's many boom-and-bust cycles in Britain. Nothing inside there to secure the Cathedral door with, unfortunately, but I grab one of the spools of electrical wire to assist in opening the central Container from a reasonably safe distance. I make sure it's the heaviest gauge I can get away with, the other Containers' doors will probably be as reluctant to budge as those I've just opened. Likely cause just as much racket, too! Still we need them opened, so there's not much to be done about the sound effects, unwelcome though they are.

Praise be! Once its doors have been 'persuaded' to open, the other end-Container has what we need. A nice rack of Acrow Props just inside the entrance, and sorted into their sizes, at that! It's probably going to be too risky to come back here again, certainly not for a long time, if ever; so I grab four of the Number 4 (ten and a half footers, extending to sixteen) and two of the Number 3 (eight footers, extending to thirteen) for use and spares.

Since they're visible and likely to be useful, I also purloin a small, portable, oxy/propane cutting kit with two spare cylinders of each gas (they're no bigger than a CO2 fire extinguisher, so get slipped into my 'Gathering Bag'), a small electric-arc-welding set, a nice bundle of arc-welding rods (also slipped into the Bag) and a junior-sized angle-grinder. The large stuff I strap onto the sled, so If there's no more fuel left in the store, or I cannot get "Della" started, we can simply leave as we came. But if "Della" can be fuelled and started, we have the option of just lifting the whole assemblage into "Della's" hopper and riding back in style!

"What do you think?" I ask Kevin as I pass him, "Have we got time to open up the last Container and try to get the Dump-truck running, or should we be thinking of an immediate exit on foot, now we've got what we need on the sled?"


TAG: Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo.

 

IC: Katia - Delta
Television & Radio Museum - W 52nd Street

This was a bad sign, hopefully those beasts weren't still skulking through the building, Katia held her rifle ready. "If you want to search this now would be the good time," she said. "I will stand guard here," she said moving towards the hallway, "Make it fast."

Katia got a bad feeling, but did what she knew to ignore it. Time to stay focused... Whatever comes their way.

TAGS: @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, Ktala

OOC: Guess who's back! Sorry for my prolonged absence, things have been crazy for me.

 

Zeeza N'dori - 25 December, 2065 – Just After Noon
Museum of Television and Radio - West 52nd Street

Zeeza walked over to the bedroll, and very carefully unrolled it, looking for anything that the wolves might have missed. Katia stood near the doorway. "If you want to search this now would be the good time," she said. "I will stand guard here," she said moving towards the hallway, "Make it fast." she added.

"Gotcha!' Zeeza replied as she nodded back at Katia, and focused her search on the bedroll and other items, just in case. But she was betting more on the bedroll. It made sense, and it was one of the few items that had not been disturbed. After she was finished with the bedroll, she would take the cookware and stove burner, and then move to check out the contents of the rucksack, carefully scooping the items back up into the bag as well. Even in these times, nothing was to be spared. Everything was always useful. And if anything here could tell them what the wolves were up to, even better.

Zeeza carefully searched, then packed the items carefully along with the bedroll. She then looked up at Katia. "I'm finished here. Better keep moving anyway. Besides, dont want to keep the others waiting too long."

With a grin, Zeeza quickly joined back up with 'Delta'. She looked up at the woman. "Which way now?" she asked with a quick nod of her head.



TAG: Heavy Isotope, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo,



OOC: Welcome back!! No worries. We kept the light on for ya!

 

Gustavo Guerrero, Josephus Carter, Kevin O'Brian, Angela

25 December, 2065 – Just After Noon​

Construction Site, West 46th Street, Manhattan​

​

Angela was reluctant to move away from the downward sloping ramp and took up position to watch out for trouble, but her attention kept returning to the ramp every few minutes. She finally spoke up when Joph and Kevin were done pilfering one of the containers. “We should check out the garage. I don't think garage entrances are suppose to be bricked up with a door smashed inward. Whatever was in there, somebody took the time to make a wall and somebody else broke in.”​

​

She glanced in the direction of the ramp before adding. “And I think I saw lights too.”​

​

They all knew that lights in the city these days were improbable but not impossible. Without the main power plants running to power the island, nothing worked unless you had a generator. Construction sites had plenty of those to power tools and lights, so perhaps someone had rigged this site's own to power something underground?​

TAG: @Tim Battershell Mitth_Fisto greyjedi125

Zeeza N'dori, Katia, Benjamin Eshkol, Karen

25 December, 2065 – Just After Noon​

Television and Radio Museum, Manhattan​

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As she raised it from the ground to place in the bag, something fell out of the bedroll to clatter on the ground rather audibly despite it's small, plastic size. It was clear and circular in shape and was no bigger than a quarter in size. Zeeza would recognize it as a compact disc used for portable recording devices, and most likely belonging to the smashed device she had seen scattered all over the room.​

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Placing the items back into the backpack, a wallet would fall open to reveal the man's identity and a good idea as to why the werewolves were interested in him. His ID showed he hailed from New York and worked for the Cable News Network as an investigative reporter. He had a passport with various custom stamps from all over the world and the last one dated was ten years ago in Egypt.​

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Jason Myers, it seemed, had finally given his last report and whatever it was he had died for had been important enough to hide in the bedroll.​

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TAG: @Ktala @Heavy_Isotope

 

IC: Gustavo ‘Guts’ Guerrero
Construction site, West 46th St, Manhattan

The young watcher tried to ignore the loud banging as the locks were smashed open. It couldn’t be helped, so he only shook his head and chuckled mirthlessly as he tried to remain calm. The sooner the whole operation was done, the quicker the group could return to St.Patrick’s for safety.

When Guts finally looked over at the progress ( a decrease in banging had prompted him to look), he smiled at seeing the containers opened, then upon seeing the Acrows, a great sense of relief washed over him. Grinning, he offered a ‘thumbs-up’ to Joph. The man was turning out to be quite handy indeed, a boon to the flock as it were.

“Nice!!” Guts managed to say.

Guts walked over with the sled and attempted to help Joph fasten the Acrows to the sled, but Joph was a man of many talents and quite self reliant, thus, Guts ends up standing guard for the most part; a post he takes very seriously.

Once Joph is finished, he turns to the onlooking Kevin as he speaks:

“What do you think? Have we got time to open up the last container and try to get the Dump-truck running, or should we be thinking of an immediate exit on foot, now that we’ve got what we need on the sled?”

“Let’s try the dump-truck….” Guts puts in almost immediately. Looking at the packed sled from the corner of his eye, he knows that pulling their newly acquired prize and fighting Lycans would not go well, should the thrice-cursed creatures attack them.

Angela however, seems to have other ideas by the words she contributes to the conversation.

“We should check out the garage. I don’t think garage entrances are supposed to be bricked up with a door smashed inward. Whatever was in there, somebody took the time to make a wall and somebody else broke in.”

There was a pause as if everyone were weighing the words she’d spoken.

“…and I think I saw lights too.” She added after a beat.

Lights meant a power source. Was the garage some kind of military cache? Guts wondered. If so, perhaps he could find a power source for failing Madame X. If not, they could still find things to benefit the cathedral. With all the noise they’d made, it was doubtful the group would get a second chance at this place.

Another series of question were running through the young watcher’s mind. Whomever did break into the sealed garage…were they still inside? Were they human or Lykan?

Either answer had implications of their own.

Guts switched on the flashlight strapped to the side of his rifle.

“I’ll go check it out.” He said in all seriousness to the group, then turned around to Angela, saying: “I’m going in alone.” His tone left no room for discussion.

“In the meantime, you guys can try and get that dump-truck started. Any objections?”



Tag: @Mitth_Fisto, @Tim Battershell, @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

IC: Josephus 'Joph' Carter
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - Construction Site, West 46th Street.

Angela's latest interjection is interesting, but to my mind more indicative of a Survivor Group sanctuary that was overrun in the past rather than one that is still active; the major clue being the broken-in (and unrepaired) door. If the attack had been successfully repelled, Survivors would almost certainly have repaired (and strengthened) their breached defences; so that leaves 'Thralled' Humans, 'Pacifist' Beasts or 'Regular' Beasts as the most likely users of that level these days.

I can't hear any indication of a generator running anywhere in the vicinity - and they're certainly noisy enough to be heard! - so if her "And I think I saw lights too." refers to glowing bulbs or tubes, they're probably working off battery power, a bank of batteries for choice. Still, the use of a generator to replenish expended power might well explain why "Della" has a nearly empty fuel tank; given that the final job of the day for builders/construction crews is to refuel all on-site machinery ready for a prompt start next working day. I hadn't checked any of the other equipment, but chances are they've had their tanks drained too.

Strange that the (probable) Fuel Store, or the other two Containers, hadn't been broken into and investigated long since; but that could be down to the past/current Basement occupants not having a clue about Building Site procedures and/or habits. Almost any DIY-dabbler can build a wall reasonably well; some can even build one that stays up for many years - even if they don't know when three-to-one and five-to-one 'Pug' (and Concrete) mixes are supposed to be used - but put them on an active Building Site and they rapidly become 'at risk', as well as posing a potential danger to others! The uninitiated would, therefore, be unlikely to realise that it's standard procedure to lay down sand on a fuel store floor - not so much to soak-up the inevitable spills and/or leaks, though it does that too - but to reduce the chance of a worker slipping on an oily patch when wrestling fuel drums around, particularly if the said flooring is metal.

Sometimes a little Mission-creep can have major benefits, as with King Henry's sight-seeing ramble from Harfleur to Calais - pausing, on the way, at a little place called Azincourt (known to generations of schoolchildren as 'Agincourt'); but at other times the consequences can be rather adverse! While I'm not really in favour of any 'creep' being introduced into our afternoon's activities, I intend to refrain from commenting and leave the decision to probe the Basement area - or not - to Kevin. He's our Captain in this enterprise, has far more general experience with the conditions in Beast-infested Manhattan and, thus far, has shown he has a good head on his shoulders.

That is, I had intended to refrain from commenting and to let Kevin decide until Gus unexpectedly pipes up. Seemingly he has other ideas; perhaps he's caught the 'investigate-all' bug from Angela! Moreover, he's talking about going in alone, something I feel isn't a good idea at all!

"Gus....Kevin", I say, "I can do what's needed here with just Angela as my lookout and protection, particularly if you, Angela, climb into the hopper where you've got both extra height and some cover. That'll free you, Kevin, to watch Gus' back if you want."


TAG: Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo.

 

Zeeza N'dori - Just After Noon
Television and Radio Museum, Manhattan

Zeeza carefully searched the bedroll. As she did, something fell out, and clattered loudly on the floor. Zeeza carefully reached over and picked it up. It was small, but she recognized it immediately.

A compact disc. A cd. Well, she looked back at the stuff that had been trashed all over the place. The remains of the player was among them. What could be so important, that they trashed the place looking for this? Had to be this, cause the guy hid it, just like she would have. Must be something important. She carefully placed it inside of her clothing, wrapping it in a bit of cloth to protect it. Zeeza looked over at Katia giving her a nod, before getting back quickly to work, stuffing stuff back into the backpack. As she stuffed things back into the backpack, a wallet tumbled out. Taking al quick peek inside of it, it reveal the man's identity. Some guy named Jason Myers. And he was a reporter for the Cable News Network as an investigative reporter. He had a passport with various custom stamps from all over the world and the last one dated was ten years ago in Egypt. Egypt? Ten years ago. Wait, that was when all of thi got started, kinda sorta. When stuff got wierd. Did the poor guy find out something? No way to know, until they found something to play it on. That was gonna be the stick of it. Course, they were in a radio museum. Might get lucky. Zeeza quickly packed up the rest of the stuff, and caught up with Katia, her crossbow at the ready.

"Keep an eye out for a player. But I think we should finish a quick sweep, and get outta here. We still have the library to stop at. But I dont think we're gonna find anything for the door here. Maybe the others are having better luck." Zeeza looked around. "Besides, dont know how good the weather is gonna hold up. Dont want to be out too long." she added with a nod. But she waited for 'Delta' to give her opinion as well. The others, were keeping a lookout downstairs, but Zee knew that to stay in one place for too long was never a good thing. And they had already seen others walking around in the area. Best not to tempt fate. She had no wish to replay the scene that was already in the room. And she was more than ready to get out of room with creepy dead guys in it.


TAG: Heavy Isotope , CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

IC: Josephus 'Joph' Carter
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - Construction Site, West 46th Street.

I'm quite confident that 'Della' can be persuaded to run again without too much trouble, not that I'm expecting to be able to start her up straight away; she'll need to be 'nursed' a little.

The reason I'm pretty confident lies in the tale of the 'Tank' that came to light in an old scrapyard when it was being cleared out for re-development about twenty years ago. The 'Tank' was actually a Second World War 'Gun Motor Carriage' - a Diesel-powered, US designed and built vehicle allocated to the British Army under 'Lease Lend'; then re-armed with the British 17pdr Anti-tank Gun to boost mobile anti-tank capability during the Liberation of the Continent.

When collected from the scrapyard, this particular example caused considerable consternation by coming back to life in a billowing cloud of black smoke after a few feet of movement then chasing the vehicle that was towing it! Not a bad effort for what everyone thought was a dead hulk, only fit for stripping down for components! Seemingly, whoever had parked it back then had committed the error of just shutting off the engine instead of turning off the fuel tap and letting the engine use up the contents of fuel-line and injectors. Fortunately, a mechanic from the collection crew managed to climb aboard and worm enough of himself into the driving compartment to take it out of gear, otherwise it would have smashed through the scrapyard's fence and probably caused mayhem in the car dealership next door! I had the tale from the mechanic himself when he collected some specially made replacement track pins for what was, last I heard, the only remaining privately-owned M10 Achilles still in running condition.

'Della' has had one decade of enforced idleness, true, but the scrapyard 'Tank' had many such, and that one was kept outside (admittedly with things piled atop it), while 'Della' has spent her downtime fully protected from the elements.

So, while the others are sorting themselves out, and also after double-checking that 'Della' is in Neutral and the fuel tap is turned off, I insert the starting handle into place and, with one hand holding the mixture-control levers in the 'reduced compression' position, start winding. The objective is twofold, to move the pistons and the oil around and also to start warming up the cylinders and cylinder head. In fancier, more complex, diesel vehicles, warming the head is done electrically through a built-in element but 'Della', like most small engines on Construction equipment, needs it done the old-fashioned way - utilising the facts that the 'compression' is only reduced, not absent, and that air warms up when it is compressed. I haven't done this amount of winding in years, a hundred full turns of the handle is what I've decided on; so I'll probably pay with an aching shoulder tomorrow! If Gus is impatiently waiting to hear the engine come to life he's going to be disappointed for a bit, because I'm not making any attempt to start it.... Yet!

To give my shoulder a rest, and allow the engine to warm through, I turn my attention to the Fuel Store. The totally undisturbed appearance inside the other two Containers has reassured me slightly on the question of booby traps, but even so, I take no chances. A pickaxe purloined from the General-supplies Container enables me to first lever, then pull the first door open while I'm sheltering behind it. As no nasty surprises make themselves known, I repeat the hook-and-pull move on the other door, with an equally innocuous result.

Looking inside, the contraption I spot standing tall right at the front is something I've never seen before, possibly knocked-up on-site for the site, but its purpose is obvious. Rather than bring all the in-use equipment to the Store for fuelling (especially the large stuff) or rely on buckets, watering cans or Jerrycans, someone had the bright idea of mounting a fuel drum on a two-wheeled trailer so the fuel could be taken where needed. Not only that. they'd arranged it so the drum and trailer can be stood vertical (like the trolleys used to move long gas cylinders about) to operate the lever-action hand-pump mounted in the drum's filling hole while allowing an indicator tube (complete with buoyant, high visibility, bead) to be fitted into the smaller 'tapping' hole to show the remaining fuel level when the drum is in its horizontal travelling position. Ingenious! A very clever arrangement indeed! I pull the contraption down enough to remove it from the Container on its wheels and notice that the drum is, as near as I can tell, full. Well, that can go back to St Patrick's pinned into 'Della's' towing point, trailer and all!


TAG: Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo.

 

Gustavo Guerro, Kevin O'Brian, Josephus Carter, Angela

December 25th, 2065 – Just After Noon​

Construction Site, West 46th Street, Manhattan​

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Angela nodded and climbed up into the hopper to keep an eye out while Gus and Kevin checked out what she had discovered. She watched Joph for a few seconds before her gaze turned out toward the street for any sign of trouble. From up there, she could see over the fence and spotted the trail of snow-trodden foot path that had led away from the construction site. It was heading toward 6th Avenue as far as she could tell and said as much to Joph while he worked on getting at the fuel.​

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Meanwhile Kevin wasn't all too keen on letting Gus go alone into the walled up garage. He thought the kid would know better considering his love for movies and how some Hollywood films depicted people getting knocked off because they had gotten separated from the group. “Hey, you're not going in alone,” he told the younger man and joined him at the ramp.​

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As the two headed down toward the smashed in door, they could see the light that Angela had spotted earlier. It flickered slightly before staying on for about a minute and then flickered again. Kevin gestured for Gus to enter first since he had the laser rifle that could detect heat signatures, but would be unnecessary as they soon found out.​

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Whoever had erected the wall and door, didn't just build a barrier to keep things out. The door immediately led to a cinder block hallway that stretched for about several yards before ending at another smashed door. The walls had claw marks, indicating that the attack had happened while the moon was out. There was also some blood smeared on the walls and pooling on the floor. The light was coming from beyond the second door and there was a foul stench emanating from beyond that had yet to reach topside. They could also hear what sounded like electronic machinery running.​

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Kevin gave Gus a side-long glance as he quietly whispered, “I don't like the look of this.”​

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From what they had seen thus far, the attack was recent and it certainly was not a sanctuary for thralls or lycans. But whatever was beyond the door was being powered and the lycans had felt worth attacking for some reason.​

TAG: @Tim Battershell greyjedi125 Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Katia - Delta
Museum of Television and Radio

Katia heard something small hit the floor, turning her head slightly, the item was a miniature data disk. Things like that, she would collect and send back to her handler, Dusan. Though for now she would have to do it another time, not allowing anyone to find out why, otherwise she might be compromised. She kept an eye on Zeeza, ensuring she packed the rest of his personal information away. Everything was useful, everything was necessary. Recon and information gathering, the next logical step was intervention, but after the loss of communication.... She couldn't know what the next step was. Thinking into it too much would give her a headache, she'd get the information necessary when the time came.

"Keep an eye out for a player. But I think we should finish a quick sweep, and get outta here. We still have the library to stop at. But I don't think we're gonna find anything for the door here. Maybe the others are having better luck." Zeeza looked around as she spoke. "Besides, don't know how good the weather is gonna hold up. Don't want to be out too long."

"Mhm," Katia replied, "Maybe they have History of Media Player, exhibit." Making a joke wasn't usually her directive, most were poor attempts such as that when she did. But Zeeza made her feel comfortable enough, even so, she didn't leave her guard down. Keeping her weapon at the ready with the stock in her shoulder, "Let's keep moving," she suggested and continued down the hallway, looking for anything that might have signs or directions.

TAGS: Ktala, @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

IC: Gustavo ‘Guts’ Guerrero
Construction site, West 46th Street, Manhattan

Seeing the claw marks on the walls and the blood was definitely discomforting. The flickering lightbulb didn’t help either, never mind the foul stench. Was something rotting over there?

Guts imagined he could hear an electronic hum coming from beyond the door’s threshold. Besides that, there was only an eerie and stifling silence surrounding them. He suddenly felt as if the walls would close in on them, trapping them.

“I don’t like the look of this.” Guts heard Kevin whisper and both men shared a look. Where Guts eyes seemed to suddenly question the wisdom of their actions, Kevin as always, was steely and almost unreadable.

“I have a bad feeling about this…” Guts said trying to bring a little bit of humor to the situation, though it failed miserably. He was never good with humor, but he was very glad that Kevin had decided to tag along. The man’s presence lent him courage.

“Alright….” Guts whispered aloud as he hefted Madam X instead of his rifle. He check the laser weapon and primed it for firing. “Let’s see what’s beyond that door…”

The young watcher felt himself perspiring inside of his gear, despite the cold air. As he began to take his first step, he heard himself begin to recite the Twenty Third Psalm.

‘The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want….’

Guts knew the 23rd Psalm by heart. It was one of his mother’s favorites. He did not know nor could explain why he felt like speaking it now, but he did. Whenever he felt uncertain, or in danger, he would recite it. This was such a time. Should the Lord of Heaven deem him worthy to live another day, or call him home to join his mother, Guts wished for his heart to be full of courage and peace.

With a careful, yet firm step, the young watcher ‘crossed himself’, then walked through the second door threshold, weapon raised and towards the flickering light.


Tag: @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, (@Tim Battershell, @Mitth_Fisto)

 

IC: Josephus 'Joph' Carter
Christmas Day 2065, Afternoon - Construction Site, West 46th Street.

Angela climbs into "Della's" hopper while Gus and Kevin head for the ramp. Almost immediately Angela tells me that the tracks in the snow outside appear to head toward 6th Avenue. If I haven't got my sense of direction scrambled, that's West of here; but not being a Manhattan resident, I've no idea what lies in that direction. There's also the question of how far towards 6th Avenue the tracks continue.

I thank Angela and suggest she also tells Kevin when he returns. It's information, and valuable as intelligence, but so long as there aren't feet making more tracks on the trail in our direction, it can go on the back-burner for now. I also tell her that I won't bite her head off if she alerts me to something she's spotted that doesn't turn out to be a threat; with half the team in the basement, we need to be even more careful and alert. With that in mind, and not knowing if she has even fired a rifle before - although, from what I've been told, a neophyte's first ever round is quite likely to bullseye; after which it takes a lot of further instruction to get a round anywhere on the target, including its edges! - I unstrap my bow again. Despite the inconvenience of having to carry it all the time, I feel the need to have my longest-ranged weapon handy.

Once the fuel trailer is outside, I can see another piece of equipment further in; something that I recognise at a glance as a hand-pumped, hydraulic, lifting jib; Dad had a couple at the Workshop and I've used them on occasion, mostly before I branched out into Weapon and Armour-smithing. Behind it, and to the sides, are a number of fuel drums, lined up (except for one on a ready-use cradle) as if on parade. That could make things a little awkward, as "Della" can (I judge) only carry two drums as well as my other three team members and I don't want to leave the Beasts or their servants with a goodly supply of reasonably flammable liquid - some of it might end up being turned against St Patrick's! Still, first things first; before I consider any 'asset denial' activities "Della" needs to have a drink if she's to go much of anywhere at all, and not one from the drum on the trailer!.

I fill up "Della's" tank with a couple of watering-cans worth of fuel drawn from the 'ready use' drum and give the engine a further 'reduced-compression' cranking, then let Angela know that I'll be testing the fuel drums I've found for contents, so she doesn't get startled by 'bong' or 'thud' noises coming from behind her. Not as bad as I feared, after I work my way through the drums, giving each a firm tap with my axe handle. Only four sound full, plus whatever's left in the ready-use drum, That quantity I can handle without resorting to all-too-noticeable arson!

Rolled out of the Fuel Store and raised with the lifting jib and a strop, two full drums go into the rear of "Della's" hopper, get turned end-up and braced (as far as possible) against fore and aft movement with a couple of short Acrows (I noticed that the short ones are the 'trench strutting' type) placed horizontally and tightened against the hopper's sides with their built-in screw threads. I also use the lifting jib to raise the entire sled-load of acquisitions in one go and position the load so that the sled is entirely within the hopper and the loaded Acrows lie fore and aft down the centreline. The far ends stick up into my driving sightline somewhat, but that can't be helped.

Returning to the Fuel Store, I lay the remaining full drums flat and remove their 'tapping plugs' with the set of plug keys that had been tied to the cradle. The keys, and the plugs, go into my 'Gathering Bag', as does the tap from the 'ready use' drum once I unscrew it. The final part of the operation is to make sure the 'tapping holes' are at the now-emptying drums' lowest point. A shame to have to waste all that fuel, but more's being taken away to a good home than's being lost, and we have no way of taking more with us.

Now to see what we shall see! I open "Della's" fuel tap and prime the system, then it's "once more unto the crank handle, dear Joph, once more" but, this time, bringing the control levers into the 'rich-mixture Start' position once I've got the pistons moving well in 'reduced compression' mode.

After five failed attempts, with my right shoulder on-fire (or so it feels), "Della" gives a tremendous cough and fires! She sounds very rough at the moment, but she'll smooth out as she warms right up, and I keep the control levers on 'rich-mixture' as long as I dare to speed the process. Its a nervous moment when I ease the levers to 'Normal Running' position, but the lovely girl doesn't stall out on me! With her ticking over, and warming up to operating temperature, I return the starting handle to its holder, close and secure the engine cover and pin the trailer's towing eye into "Della's" rear 'bumper', as I call it.

Then I've got nothing to do but wait until I can risk moving her, nothing that is except to sit in the driver's seat, bow in hand and sword laid conveniently on the fuel drums in front of me, in case the sound of her starting-up and running has attracted really unwelcome attention!


TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, (Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125).

 

Zeeza N'dori
Television and Radio Museum, Manhattan

Zeeza had just finished putting everything back up, when Katia responded to her comment about looking for a dvd player. "Mhm," Katia replied, "Maybe they have History of Media Player, exhibit."

Zee looked up grinning. Was that a joke? Even if it wasnt, it was funny to her. Zeeza stood up, and walked back over towards Katia, as the woman spoke up once more. "Let's keep moving," she said. Zee nodded in agreement, "Sounds good to me. " she replied as she began to follow the woman down the hallway, looking around for anything that caught her eye. Whether it be a player, or a hint that some wolvies might be using this building for some reason. She tried to keep her guesses out of her head for now. Now was time to be alert for trouble.

Zeeza pulled out the map they had found earlier. Scanning the area in front of them, she looked for the room that Katia had mentioned earlier. Bringing her pistol back up she began to flank Katia, making sure that she covered each other well.



TAG: Heavy Isotope, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo