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

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

With "Della" ticking over underneath me, more quietly than I expected, but still distinctively a Diesel and with her rear-view mirrors adjusted to cover my immediate rear and as much as possible of the adjacent area, I've time to think. Aside from taking a close look at her driving controls, as normal, except for the high/low ratio selection lever beside the main gear-stick and another control down there that's either a differential lock or 4WD/2WD selection. The only other observable difference is that her hopper-tilt arrangement also seems to be hydraulic, instead of the simple mechanical latch worked by a pull-lever I'm used to. Now, having again nocked a shaft to the bowstring, I'm really only moving my eyes. And listening for any gunshots, which I should be able to hear clearly. Gus seemed to have settled on that odd SciFi-looking weapon (Laser? Maser? Prototype Phaser?) attached to a, probable, powerpack, but Kevin has a conventional rifle and I don't think that someone as careful as he appears to be would be likely to get into a situation where he couldn't get at least one round off.

Trouble involving Kevin and/or Gus we'll have to play by ear, but we've made enough noise up here that anyone/thing skulking about in the basement would probably have put in an appearance by now. If we get intruded upon up here, I tell Angela that we'll probably have time for one aimed shot each but after that I'll be making us a moving target; using "Della's" mobility and mass to charge the intruders and bring them into sword range as rapidly as possible. Even though I don't fight mounted and have always resisted any attempt to get me up on a horse (put my well being into the control of something with a mind of its own? No thanks!) that doesn't mean I don't know how. Hours of being towed about on a 'practice horse' (actually a vaguely horse-shaped construction on four small wheels) have seen to that!

What I really wanted to think about and has got me rather puzzled is the news from 'Camelot' about the war, specifically the Beasts' lack of recent offensive activity. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but it doesn't make tactical sense for them to have simply stopped advancing, not when they had us on the back foot. No, the rule of thumb - in any era - is to push hard and keep the pressure on for as long as the attacking side has the fighters and the supplies to keep the offensive going. Fail to do that and the attackers risk loosing the initiative. Sometimes they never get it back!

By stopping, the Beasts have thrown away the shock-effect advantages of their nightmarish appearance, their viciousness and their unexpected speed; all of which soldiers can, given time and training, be conditioned to regard as battlefield-normal. They've also gifted us three whole years to reorganise, re-equip, re-supply, train-up replacements/reinforcements and sort the effective tactics from those that failed.

It wouldn't surprise me if teams of boffins weren't working on a Beast-specific Gas or Germ, maybe more than one of each, in secure locations "somewhere in the USA". Nor would it surprise me if, when the Beasts try to restart their offensive, they come up against in-depth prepared defences designed to maximise Beast casualties.

So why stop? Beasts don't need much in the way of stockpiled food supplies, weapons or ammunition and 'Camelot' said they had the numbers. Could it be they ran out of Approved Plan? Depends if the Beast-King - DuPont, DuMont, or whatever Father Minghan called him - allows the rest of his hell-spawn to use their initiative, or if he insists on nothing happening without his direct approval. In which case, Humanity may owe a debt of gratitude to whoever decided to isolate Manhattan from the rest of the Continent and keep it that way. Also if so, knocking-off the Beast-King might have a very beneficial effect on the war, more so than with eliminating a leader who allows initiative and shares his plans with subordinates. Worth talking to Father Minghan about, I think.


TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, (Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125).

 

Katia, Zeeza N'dori, Karen, Benjamin Eshkol

25 December, 2065 – After Noon​

Television and Radio Museum, Manhattan​

​

Katia and Zeeza would find the building pretty much empty of any other life. They did discover a couple more rooms ransacked and destroyed, most likely from the lycans that had tried to find the datadisk the reporter had hidden. In one room dedicated to multimedia, they would find displays of antiquated smart phones and media players from decades ago. In one display was a more recent tablet, an iPad Astro II that looked more like a three-quarter inch thick and eight inch long rod than like the older tablets until you pulled the device apart vertically to reveal a twelve inch slim and flexible, transparent screen that hardened when an electric current was run through it. At one end of the rod was a slot where the disk could be inserted and a recharger slot for a portable charging cable at the other end.​

​

Fifteen years ago the tablet had been all the rage and cost several hundred dollars just to own, but it was well worth the money since the Astro series worked pretty much like a portable desktop computer. It and other similar tablets made laptops obsolete and a thing of the past and threatened home deskstops if Microsoft hadn't come out with a desktop tower that was no bigger than a thick encyclopedia volume and the monitor and keyboard was of similar technology as the Astro.​

​

The device would be able to read the datadisk Zeeza had found but only if they could charge it up or plug it in somewhere. And if the thing even worked at all since it probably had been well over ten years since it was last used.​

​

Other than the tablet and datadisk, they would find nothing else of interest or use. Benjamin soon came over the walkies they all carried and inquired of their status, “It is quiet out here, hope you ladies are done sight-seeing up there?”​

TAG: @Ktala @Heavy_Isotope

​

​

​

(without people)​

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

25 December, 2065 – After Noon​

Construction Site, West 46th Street, Manhattan​

​

Inside...​

​

They enter the garage through the smashed door and the first thing both men would see were the cages and more cinder block walls erected here and there as if someone either was trying to section off parts of the garage or make it difficult for an attacking force to manuever. Either way, it probably was not what either one was expecting inside.​

​

The cages nearest were empty but had once been occupied by something strong. The bars were bent as if something had tried to get out at various points during its occupation of the structure. The cages themselves were crude but effective, steel pipes and supports layered and welded together to form a box with a sliding door and an intricate lock. Kevin counted at least half a dozen from what they could see. The further in they went, the more cages they found in a sectioned off room large enough to park at least four cars inside with some room left over to move around in.​

​

Unlike the ones outside, these cages were occupied with the dead bodies of lycans, most of them were in their best forms except two who had died half way through the transformation and looked like a grotesque manifestation of the monster.​

​

“What is this place?” Kevin whispered as he peered into the room with Gus. The contents of the chamber soon revealed that something unusual had been going on beneath the construction site. There was lab equipment that looked like it had been taken from nearby hospitals and medical labs, some of the equipment had labels stating that they belonged to a few and a university.​

​

There was a table in the middle of the room with operating lights overhead. On the table was a dissected lycan and on the floor next to it was a man in a lab coat sporting a several day old beard. His insides had been torn to shreds by a lycan, perhaps one of those that had been in the cages? There was blood everywhere on the floor, operating table and some counters, not because of a fight with the lycans but rather from whatever the human had been doing to the lycans.​

​

It was obvious that this place was no sanctuary or lycan den.​

​

Outside...​

​

Della continued to hum in the cold, quiet air of the island city and Joph could see that Angela was getting nervous about the noise it was making and that the others were still below. It had been ten minutes and no word from the others. But she kept to her duty as look-out and scanned the area for any kind of trouble but so far nothing had reared it's ugly head since Kevin and Gus had gone below.​

​

She glanced over at Joph, interrupting his train of thought as she asked, “Can that thing go through all this snow?” She gestured at the thick snow on the ground and the snow-drifts that had formed over the winter. Normally the city would have been cleared of the snow and the roadways salted, the white stuff never being allowed to get this thick or as high. But for the last ten years, New York saw itself buried under a wintery blanket every year.​

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto greyjedi125 Tim Battershell

 

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

"Can that thing go through all this snow?", Angela asks, cutting into my train of thought. I can see that she's a bit nervous, particularly now the team has split into two pairs, but she's doing her job like a veteran.

"Shouldn't be any problem.", I reply, "These things are built to go over very rutted and bumpy surfaces, so there's a large gap between ground and machine. We may plough a furrow in the snow with that lump between the front wheels, if you noticed it, but that's nothing to what normal cars - you call them 'autos' - would do". I could have given the 'lump' its proper name of 'differential', but I doubt Angela has heard much vehicle terminology, or would know what it meant.

"The tyres all have heavy diagonal cleats, they're what we call 'mud-tyres' in England, so we should have plenty of grip - those're designed to drive through deep, wet, mud or clay without slipping; snow won't bother them at all. Only thing I'll have to watch is skidding on ice under the snow when I'm turning corners, but if it happens, that'll be my fault.

'Della' will do fine.", I tell her; changing the subject since explaining that there are actually eight forward gears available, instead of the usual four, as well as that 'Della' has - I've now decided, since a differential lock wouldn't really be all that useful on a Dump-Truck - selectable two and four wheel drive, would take far too long.

"The Guys haven't really been gone that long; seconds seem like minutes and minutes like hours when one's waiting for something to happen. Particularly anything one doesn't want to happen! Its reassuring that we haven't heard any firing from downstairs; I'll bet Kevin won't ever be caught so flat footed that he can't fire at least once, if only as a warning to us. Don't know what Gus' weapon's firing signature sounds like though.

Keep hanging in there! You're doing fine! No sense worrying ourselves sick unless and until we have something to worry about! You probably don't know, but all my arrows carry a surprise package, a strong dose of Wolfsbane Potion - meaning a hit anywhere on an intruder will kill - and at this sort of range, I'm good enough with the bow to hit a Beast-sized target every time."


TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, (Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125).

 

Zeeza N'dori
Television and Radio Museum, Manhattan - After noon​

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. Walking along the hallway, all the way down, the place looked pretty empty. Everything that was left behind, the wolvies seemed to have trashed. Stupid wolvies. Probably they were still searching for the disk that she had found. But one room did come up with a bit of hope.​

They found a room, that had some really old equipment. One of the things, was a really old tablet..but it was newer than the other stuff they had found so far. Zee crept over to take a look. It was an iPad Astro!!! Cool!! That would work. It was a top dollar item many years ago..and now, it was collecting dust. But it might be JUST what they needed. Course power would be a problem. But Zee remembered that long, long time ago, they used to be able to recharge batteries, using an old hand crank. Maybe they could figure out a way to use the record player and its crank to somehow power up this little thing. At least it was something. Zeeza carefully scooped it up, along with anything else she could find that would go with it, and very carefully wrapped it up, and tucked it away, deep inside her own clothing. She wanted to make sure nothing got to it. It was old, but ther was a chance.​

**SQWAAAAK!***​

Zee nearly jumped as her radio made noise in the silent hallway. It was Benjamin, that Zeeza heard over the walkies. “It is quiet out here, hope you ladies are done sight-seeing up there?” Zeeza chuckled softly, as she pressed the talk button. "Oh yeah, just having a fun time, sifting through the dust bunnies." she told him. She then quickly added, "I think we're finished up here. Nothing for the church door. Time to scatter back home, before we run into any un-welcomed guests." Zeeza looked back over towards Katia. "Let's get outta here. We still have the library to check out as well, before we head back." she told her, putting her pistol back in ready mode, as she walked back towards the stairs that led back downstairs.​

TAG: @Heavy Isotope, @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo 2

 

IC: Katia - Delta
Television and Radio Museum

Zeeza picked up some strange looking cylinder, Katia recognized it as she pulled the screen into place, early on when she came to the US these were all the rage. She never could afford one, paying rent and going to school was hard enough while she was looking for a job so her parents wouldn't have to support her beyond helping with rent and school. That life seemed forever ago now. Katia had felt a twinge in her temples... The memories always caused pain when they came back, then her mind immediately focused on her mission.

Zeeza nearly jumped as her radio made noise in the silent hallway. It was Benjamin. “It is quiet out here, hope you ladies are done sight-seeing up there?” Zeeza chuckled softly, as she pressed the talk button. "Oh yeah, just having a fun time, sifting through the dust bunnies." she told him. She then quickly added, "I think we're finished up here. Nothing for the church door. Time to scatter back home, before we run into any un-welcomed guests." Zeeza looked back over towards Katia. "Let's get outta here. We still have the library to check out as well, before we head back." she told her, putting her pistol back in ready mode, as she walked back towards the stairs that led back downstairs.

"Sounds good," Katia didn't think the Library would be worth checking but it wasn't her prerogative to make mission critical decisions until her life was at stake. "Radio in that we are on way out."

TAGS: Ktala, @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

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

Despite everything that he’d experienced in his young life, Guts never acquired a ‘taste’ for horror movies.

The scene he and Kevin encountered in the back room was by far one of the worst horror scenes he could ever imagine, primarily due to the fact that he was actually in the scene in real life.

The choking smell of blood and dead flesh. Metallic prisons, best known as cages. Dead forms forever frozen in their monstrous and agonizing death throes.

“What is this place?” The junior watcher heard his senior partner whisper.

Guts could only shake his head in abject incredulity. His mind could not stop envisioning horrific torture scenes and experimentations. The dead man in the lab coat, the operating table and all the rest of the mad scientist lab works weren’t helping his case. There was nothing in this room but death, dying, cruelty and pain.

Who could have done this and why? He wanted to ask, but could not find the words. Guts moved closer to the dead doctor and was relieved that he did not recognize the man. Was he even wearing a name tag on his lab coat?

But the blood, how fresh was all the blood? Hours? days? Weeks? He suddenly couldn’t tell.

“We should go….” He said abruptly.

The fact that one of the cages was empty and the door they had come through was busted open gave him pause. If nothing had attacked them in here yet…perhaps it was outside….?

Joph. Angela

“We should regroup with the others…”

Guts looked at Kevin then began to back up, taking care not to slip on the blood slick floor as he panned Madam X from side to side.

Why was this suddenly reminding him of Aliens. No, stay focused. Don’t think like that.

“We should hurry…”


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

 

IC: Kevin O'Brian
Christmas Day, West 46th Street, Construction site, Manhattan

Looking around the words barely out of his mouth, the words beginning to tumble out of the lads, he looked on in abject horror at the senselessness of it all. "He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man." the words whispered upon the pungent air that left no end to the taste of copper upon his tongue seemed to hang there. He knew he was quoting someone, but for the wits of him not whom. For a moment as he followed Gustavo into the room and looked about he let his mind focus on that elusive author as his eyes took in all about them.

The lad was nervous and he could not fault the boy. He was too.

Crossing himself he raised his hand to kiss a fist that should hold a cross that was not there. He stared on as the boy checked the man in a lab coat as his eyes continued to roam for anything yet living in this room of horrors. He had once visited a cow and sheep butchers shop where the man prepped, killed, the things and drained them out himself to keep them fresh. This was no true comparison to what yet filled his eyes that longed so to run from what was all around him.

The lad spoke the words he could not bring himself to say. The thought of how those tracks made more sense, the blood at the top made more sense.

"No." was all he could yet manage to croak out. It seemed as though the cold of winter had taken his voice away though the room was fairly warm compared to the cold of the open air above.

"No. Check. . .check for. . .notes." he fought down the bile rising in his throat. It was a struggle and one he was not sure how long he could win. "We cannot be wasteful. We cannot. . .ye haveta. . .we haf." With a turn he heaved up what yet was left of that Christmas morn's glorious feast from within upon the table.

"Just find and we go." he gasped out. His lips moved to say a word after he wiped his mouth off upon his sleave before he moved to search for something that might aid those at the church to be safer. The Father may be their expert, but perhaps this. . .thing, had learned something they did not yet know.

TAG: greyjedi125, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

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

With Angela (hopefully) somewhat reassured, I return to my musings. They give my brain something to help pass the time while my eyes are occupied with looking out for - so far, thankfully non-existent - approaching threats!

That 'Camelot' is operating is an encouraging sign that things back home aren't actually that dire. The Royal Navy, at least, still seems to be 'in being'; would have to be for 'Camelot' to be able to remain on station; and the Senior Service has saved the day in times past.

Britain and Ireland share a common advantage in that they are both islands (the 'Chunnel' doesn't really count - it would have been the height of lunacy, given our history, for there not to have been a dusty contingency plan in some rusty filing cabinet for putting it out of use should the need ever arise; probably by pumping it full of seawater) and only approachable by sea voyage. If the Beasts are blocked from leaving Manhattan by a pair of rivers, then even the Dover-Calais narrows should be plenty wide enough to keep them out.

Kevin would probably disagree, but Ireland has been 'invasion-free' for even longer than our much vaunted 1066 - technically, anyway - in that both the 'invasions' in Henry Plantagenet's reign seem to have actually been by invitation; the first by Mercenaries under contract to a deposed regional king, who died not long after he was reinstated; the second (by Henry himself) at the invitation of the other Irish kings, pleading for protection from the Mercenaries who had seized that local kingdom for themselves after the formerly deposed king's death!

Which would really only leave the home-grown Beast populations to be dealt with. I don't know about Ireland, but England still has proper castles dotted around - ones that escaped 'Cromwell knocking them about a bit' - which are more than habitable and so fit for Royals and/or Government. Some still have moats ('wet-ditches', in fortification-speak) and drawbridges, perhaps even portcullises ('drop-gates'). The Tower of London I'm not sure about, maybe too many Beasts nearby for comfort, although it would pose a very tough nut to crack even without its wet-ditch (which never worked properly anyway) and outer defences. Wouldn't it be a laugh if 'Palmerston's Follies' (built on suspicion that Emperor Napoleon the Third had similar plans and abilities to the First) were brought back into use after several centuries of virtual idleness?!

Ah, England, dear England! So many of our 'quaint' habits and traditions come from our violence-prone past. Everyone, or almost everyone, knows that offering a handshake is to demonstrate that one is not holding a weapon. But who realises that 'keeping to the left' on the road arose from the need to see that the horseman approaching was not holding a weapon down by his right knee, ready for a quick swing as he passed? As a sop to my hosts, Englishmen did actually drive/ride on the right in one place during those days; that place was the Tiltyard, when they were Jousting! How many (even some Uk-ers) have seen the broad red strips down each side of the gap between the Government and Loyal Opposition Benches (seating areas) in the House of Commons, not knowing that they are precisely positioned to be out of sword-range of the Honourable and Right-Honourable Members opposite and that even today (when swords have long since ceased to be a male fashion accessory) it is an eject-able offence, at least in theory, to step across them during debates?

Even without looking I can confidently state that the spiral-staircases in St Patrick's ascend in a clockwise direction and are narrow. Carried over from European practice, and in turn carried over from castle design by the masons that built both, it's a defensive measure meant to ensure that anyone going up (a potential attacker) is at a weapon-use disadvantage (because of the much more restricted space on a person's right hand side) to anyone coming down (a presumed defender). Some authors have quipped that 'left-handers' must have been much in demand as attackers, but left-handedness was seen as the mark of the Devil back then (left is 'Sinister' in Latin) and such children would have been strictly, probably brutally, broken of the trait in their very early years.

It's so difficult for me to watch films set in the Middle Ages or Middle-Ages-like periods (when I could watch them, that is) knowing what I know. The otherwise excellent Crowe/Scott version of 'Robin Hood' (realistically gritty, dirty and bawdy) was completely marred for me by a blatant anachronism during the climactic scenes. No, not a glimpse of wrist-watch but a two-centuries-later-than-period weapon given pride of place! The Historical Advisor should have been shot for that! Even my favourite 'Lord of the Rings' trilogy (which should really have been a four-film project - the 'Extended Edition' is far closer to the book) is not immune. Aragorn thrusting right through 'Orcses' without regard to the fact that doing so (other than in a film) would soon leave his sword jammed in an Orc's body, and him virtually defenceless!

Aragorn wielded 'Anduril - the Flame of the West' (formerly 'Narsil'), Gandalf wielded 'Glamdring - the Foe Hammer', Thorin was buried with 'Orcrist - the Goblin Cleaver'. Faramir's sword is unnamed! Question is, should I do what I've never done before and give my weapons names? Certainly not before they've been 'blooded' (or should that be 'bloodied'), though; but perhaps after? And if so, what names?

Just to stop her feeling lonely, and let her know I'm still here (and awake!), I ask Angela's opinion on 'Lycrist' (Lycan/Beast Cleaver) for the sword and 'Angdring' (Iron Hammer) for the axe. All I can think of with my extremely limited command of Sindarin Elvish!


TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, (Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125).

 

Zeeza N'dori
Television and Radio Museum, Manhattan
"Let's get outta here. We still have the library to check out as well, before we head back." she told Katia, putting her pistol back in ready mode, as she walked back towards the stairs that led back downstairs.

"Sounds good," Katia replied. "Radio in that we are on way out." Zee gave the woman a nod. "Ok. Guess we should warn em." she added with a grin. She then picked up her radio, and keyed the mike, speaking softly. "Hey guys, we're heading back down. Gonna call it a day, and check out the place you wanted to check out next, before we call it a night." She told them. She then flicked her finger off the button and gave Delta the thumbs up sign.

"Let's get back to the party, shall we?" Zeeza continued to head out, to catch up with the others. She would be glad to get back to the church. There was something going on, that much was sure.



TAG: @Heavy Isotope, @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

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

Guts didn’t see it coming. His mind interpreted Kevin’s halting speech as a form of nervousness, so when the senior watcher turned and heaved suddenly, his own body felt the reflexive impulse to do the same.

Guts looked away and forced himself not to wretch in response and managed a choking cough. He breathed through his mouth instead of his nose, as not to smell the pungent air, then turned and moved towards Kevin to check on him.

“Just find and we go.” Kevin gasped out as he brought himself under control and wiped his mouth. Guts nodded affirmatively. He would have argued that there was ‘no good’ reason to delay further, but Kevin’s rationale was completely on point.

If there were any notes laying about, it was imperative that they found them.

“Cover the entrance.” Guts said in a low tone, overstating the obvious. It was more like a personal sound check to see if he sounded as nervous as he felt. Thankfully, he did not.

Wasting no time, the younger watcher moved towards the operating table once again and focused on finding anything that might look like actual printed notes or any sort of electronic device that may contain them. Hard drive, data stick, discs, anything.

He did his best not to look at the grizzled forms directly or any of the exposed viscera. He went through cabinets and desks and whatever storage compartments he found. Even so, he'd look back to see if Kevin was fine, or if anything unexpected was moving around - Just like in Aliens 2.

True, he moved and searched with alacrity, but it certainly felt like the search was taking much longer than it needed to, and that was very irritating.

“Just appear…dammit!” he hissed under his breath.

Not to mention, continually fighting the urge to just bolt out of the room was not helping things.


Tag: @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo ( for search results) @Mitth_Fisto, @Tim Battershell ( ready the batmobile! )

 

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

Kevin and Gus do seem to be taking their time checking out the basement; that could mean (given the absence of gunshots and/or screams) they've found something of serious interest. Still, hanging around in one place for this long is liable to attract the sort of company we neither want nor need, so I wish they'd buck up!

On a side thought, I'll have to ask them later if it is SOP for scavengers or scouts to carry mobile phones on their expeditions - quite useless for communications nowadays, of course, but they've all had high-definition cameras included in the package for longer than I've been alive; meaning that photos or a video of a not-immediately recognisable object could be taken back to St Patrick's for everyone there to look at and attempt to identify.

Thinking of Tolkien, I really do hope that the master-disks for 'Lord of the Rings' are securely tucked away in a Beast-proof location somewhere as it probably won't ever be remade, certainly not as a live-action project, not after all of what's happened in the world. It's much more likely copies of the books will survive here and there, they outsold every novel except 'A Tale of Two Cities' so they'd have numbers on their side. I probably won't have to go through full Tolkien withdrawal, then! A measure of mercy!

That said, it's interesting and somewhat surprising that the old Norse Sagas Tolkien seemed to draw on for much of his Bestiary aren't closer to what's roaming around loose right now in modern-day real-life. Case in point, his Wargs and Werewolves didn't shift their forms, though they did seem to have some ability to communicate. Are these evolved examples of the Saga Beasts, or are they entirely new? If new, how did they get started?

What of the Films' Props, though? I'd have dearly liked to be able to examine the Gondorian and Rohirrim Armour, see if the Gondorian sets were really as ineffective as the films made them out to be, despite their looks; also if the scale-armour hauberks worn by the Riders of Rohan were actually made out of boiled-leather 'tongues' attached to a rather more flexible leather backing, as I suspect they were.

What are the guys doing down there? What's going on?

Either Angela or I could investigate on foot, but that would leave whoever stays up on this level vulnerable to a sudden charge from outside. Absence of evidence of attackers does not equal evidence of absence! Some could be lurking just out of our lines-of-sight!

Moving Della would greatly increase the noise she is making - if that's currently being trapped and muffled into virtual inaudibility by being within a mostly enclosed space, we could very well lose that benefit.

If I take her down the ramp, we lose the advantage of seeing outside, and a good part of her advantage in the protection department. That's if I can even back her down the ramp without the trailer jack-knifing on me several times! I've never reversed a single-point tow before and I was once told it's very much an acquired skill.

Come on, guys, where are you?


TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, (Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125).

 

IC: Delta - Katia
Museum of Television & Radio, Manhattan

Katia and Zeeza made their way down the levels of the museum, their findings tucked away in Zeeza's pack. Katia taking point with her rifle at the ready, checking corners and finally moving out into the streets to rejoin the others. Keeping security on the opposite side of the street she waited for the others to be ready to move out.

TAG: Ktala, CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

OOC: Sorry for a micro-post, just really tired after work.

 

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

Still no sign of Kevin and Gus coming back safe and sound (wanted) or a Beastly intrusion on our vigil and my cogitations; which, although giving Angela and I something to do while waiting, might turn out to be a little too exciting, therefore not particularly wanted!

What, I wonder, did 'Whatshisface - the Beast-king' hope to achieve by starting all of this? If I ever meet him, I'll have to remember to ask - one never knows, I might even get a straight answer!

What I'm perfectly sure he's actually done is to ensure the eventual imprisonment, enslavement or extermination of all his kind. They're not creatures of myth or saga any more. No one now will be able to scoff at their existence or say that witnesses either need the services of an optician or a psychiatrist (as residents or outpatients of a mental institution!). Not after they have gone public on his behalf; big time! I wonder if he either knows or cares about the magnitude of his miscalculation.

A simple field-test might suffice to detect any that are walking among us in human form, a small nick with a plain steel blade, coupled with observation, could do very nicely. A modern take on 'pricking for witches' and very probably much more definitive! Highly toxic plant extracts may not be required.

What 'Whatshisface' seems to have forgotten or ignored is that ordinary Humans are highly adaptable, particularly those of an inventive frame of mind. The Scottish 'Shiltron' (hedgehog-of-spears) formation (credited to 'Braveheart' Wallace) took the English Army aback at Stirling Bridge on its first use but thereafter proved to be a literal death-trap when confronted by massed Longbowmen instead of the expected, and futile, massed-cavalry-charge. The almost-massacre at Falkirk attested to that. Thereafter massed Longbowmen became the staple English antidote to all enemy armies until the age of effective firearms, with very few outright failures; Bannockburn was one; but there the whole army had got cramped for space. Thinking about it, the schiltron may well have been the inspiration behind the famous (and virtually unbreakable) 'British Square' of later years.

'Whatshisface' also seems to have overlooked the fact that what ordinary Humans are frightened of they tend to destroy; and we Humans have always been very good at that. Even the Romans, equipped only with nets and spears, managed to exterminate the European Lion population - although their motive for doing so was to feed the ever-hungry blood-fest of the Games rather than fear.

Many people have seen re-runs of the old comedy series 'Dad's Army'. What they probably haven't realised was the LDV/Home Guard was very much like that, according to my grandfather, particularly in the early days. Men actually were prepared to go up against Hitler's combat-hardened troops (and their tanks) with carving knives lashed to the ends of broomsticks, the odd Molotov Cocktail and a bagful of pepper (sentries eyes for the throwing into)! I haven't heard this Nation's leader say it yet, but Winston Churchill's rallying cry to those part-time soldiers in 1940 was "You can always take one with you!". He meant it; they were prepared to do it.

Ordinary Humans get a bit peeved when their loved ones are killed and/or they get forced from their homes. The usual response is "Give it to them back!"

Anyway, I'm starting to think we've rather worn out our welcome hereabouts, so I'd better stop wool-gathering and make preparations for a very smart departure, as and when needed.

With the clutch in, I put the ratio selector in 'Low', check that all four forward gears (and the reverse) are where I think they are in the 'gate' then release the handbrake (parking brake). I'm not entirely sure what sort of gearbox Della has (some go Low/High up the gears, others go up the gears One to Four as normal, then use the ratio selector to obtain Five to Eight by going through One to Four a second time. I think it's probably the former but this is the wrong time and place to experiment and risk a stall-out. No real matter, even Low Ratio, One to Four should be plenty fast enough to outrun anything going through that depth of snow on foot,


TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, (Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125).

 

OOC: No prob, Heavy!

Zeeza N'dori
Television and Radio Museum, Manhattan

As they walked, Katia and Zeeza were pretty much silent, as they made their way back down to the lower levels to join the others. Katia had taken point with her rifle, and Zeeza followed closely, stopping to listen every so often as they moved out to rejoin the others.

As Katia moved to take up her position outside, Zeeza palmed the radio she held, as she whispered softly..."Hey guys, where are you? We're ready to move." Zeeza looked for the sled, wondering if the others had moved it outside already.



TAG: @Heavy Isotope, @CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

Dang it, I can't edit my past posts now.