PHASE 1, A Blast from the Past. - RPLOG
From Flexible Survival
Participants
Date
2/9/2014
Log
The call came out of the Promethean encampment. Somewhere out there was a threat that had been decimating supply trains, with attacks that would not end until they were either limping off with heavy losses, or gone. Some never came back. Co-ordinating an effort with RSX and Zephyr to share the costs of an expedition, you were placed under jurisdiction as a Task-Force, with specialist rankings for each of your skill-sets and put in the field. Monitoring the situation while landing, your new companions eyeing you with questions in their eyes, who are you, why are you here, and what can you do. Mostly though, it's that uncomfortable silence that goes on while in travel, no-one saying a word till the chopper lands and leaves you behind, a small crate of supplies to the side with a weeks rations. Saluting you as they take off, the pilot tuns and flies back to the Zephyr building, steady and ready, beeping your comms twice as farewell. You're here, somewhere out in the city in a place that has been quarantined until the threat can be secured, or if need be, eliminated. Tall buildings rise at every side, the streets littered with huge sheets of broken glass from the effects of the weather, and then nanites eating the metal that held them in place. In some areas, it's like navigating a floor filled iwth razors. From above, fearful, hungry or feral faces look on, some openly fighting and slashing, great gouts of blood flowing before the enemies lock again, healing quickly from any damage but leaving parts of themselves behind. Lustful tremors occur from around you, as you see caral pleasure, sex and dominance, submission occuring in the dark corners, and screaming her pain, a Skunk-Girl is birthing a litter behind the dumpster. A fire burns bright this night, bathing the area in a glow, filled with peat and garbage, the brazier flares high and snarls and purrs rise and fall all at once on the dark wind.
A tall tauric bovine stretches out her limbs after the cramped helicopter ride. Thickly padded and barely clothed with a harness that does nothing to cover her modesty, a western saddle, and a collar with a large cowbell on it. "I've got a really bad feeling about this. I mean, I trust the Prometheans, they've taught me a lot about controling my urges, but I'm not sure I'm quite the right pick for this job," Cyrus says, grabbing the clapper on her cowbell with her index and middle finger. She rubs her nose with one of her hands, the scent of the skunks and their lust stinging her nostrils and effecting her weak willpower. "God, and these smells, I wish they weren't getting to me as much as they are." She turns to her companions and frowns. "If I lose it, please don't hestiate to take me down. I wouldn't want to put any of you in danger."
As Epsilon got leaded there, she first started to looks at the close surroundings, get familiar with what's going on at a first glance. Being a giant female Steel Hercules, she weights around 4 tons and measure around 6 meters, a good chunk coming from her huge milky cleavage, making her the tallest of the group. She wear her RSX armor, covering most of her chest and the back of her legs, being straped around the shoulders and the legs, and leave breasts nude if it wasn't for her colorful bra, not really meant for stealthiness but more for showing off her voluptous forms. She also wear her halberd, The Spur slasher, which shine more by the sheer weight of it and his creepy style, a dart gun packed with a few darts, more meant to scare than harm, and a black glove more meant to protect the others from what's inside, covering a hand bolstering very sharp claws, meant for killing.
By far the most normal sized of the group, at least she feels that way, the Husky known as Narg disembarks as she draws out her pistol. Her scent only adds to the lustful smells around as she hasn't taken care of her heat but she doesn't seem to be affected by the scents. Never the less some of the sights she catches are enticing and she has to shake her head clear. "Danger schmanger, I'm pretty sure we could handle it." She is dressed in what appear to be plain clothes but the clothing has been reinforced. Otherwise she carries anything that would be useful inside of her backpack.
An average looking wolf beast steps out of the transport, sporting a stuffed and worn, drab color from age, backpack. Looking him over, it is quite clear it's a 'him', being very oversexed, and looking all too fitting for the current environment the team finds themselves in. Looking at the comm transponder lists him as 'First name: Randel, Last name: of Zephyr'... a rather odd last name. Looking over the beast, there are subtle hints of being different from the average feral that is out here. His paw pads are black, currently, making a soft 'tat' sound as it steps on the debris over the ground. He doesn't seem to notice any sharp shards he happens to step on, despite being otherwise barefoot. Claw tips are black, and glass-like. "Well, back on patrol again..." he sighs. He glances over to Cyrus and answers bluntly, "Ok. I hope you aren't too creeped out from waking up from a broken neck. It's the easiest way I've found to stop most, when able to that is..." Seeing how sexual the place is, and how overly lewd Randel is, it isn't hard to figure out how he developed the way he did. When hearing Narg's statement, he smiles and says, "Alright.." and offers a high five.
A large Solar dragon steeps off the chopper, clad from head to toe in a high tech looking heavy combat armor. Standing about 17 feet tall, mirror like golden scales cover hir arms, in hir hand shi holds a modified laser rifle, nestled between hir gleaming wings is a large ruck sack, holding hir various gear. The dragon's large regal head moves from side to side, before hir sun hued gaze falls on the Steel Hercules. "Hey Epsilon, it is me Seguro. It is good to see you again, given the look of things you strength will be greatly needed."
Core is a slightly heavyset blonde woman in a light combat vest, with shorts and work jacket and boots. She is wearing ear hoops and bears a void totem; a bulky, crude-looking laser rifle is strapped to her back, in a terribly inconvenient and difficult-to-access position. Core is studying a Power Gator with a pensive, even worried, expression. She slips the beverage into a pocket of her jacket and looks up, half-smiling and waving weakly to those gathered here. "I hope some of you are some kinda ultimate warriors or something. I'm pretty much a mechanic, and they wouldn't let me bring my absurd flying doohickeys. I am not sure why the Prometheans are allowing me to be here at... at all." She half-smirks grimly during that last sentence, as though she is telling a private off-color joke, and coughs.
The noises of the night are overpunctuated by the screams of the birthed kits, now scrambling over the woman, lying in a puddle of her own filth and snuggling them to herself, tongue busy licking each and every one of them and then herself, taking up all the residue while her six children settle in to nurse, one to a nipple. From off in the distance you see a glint, like eyes in the dark, looking at you, and hear a soft, dark reverbrating growl, that travels through your bones and leaves you with a shiver, the sounds of the night stopping, punctuated only by the screams of the newborns who huddle in fear, and their new mother, desperately scrambling to gether them all up and run. Weaving back and forth, a flash of glowing teeth and roar as it jumps, aiming away from you and to the left, the huge crunch of concrete and glass, unseen but heard, and felt from all the thrown weight hits you in your soles, as shivers. Not making it out, you get shocked again and again as it jumps, a shadow in moonlight as it hits building after building, sending pieces into the street before hitting the lower rooftops, and then, it's out of sight but for the screams in the distance. Around you the children cry, a fight breaking out between two dog-beasts to the right, the males vying for dominance and from an alley a sheep-girl bleats, approached by a tigress. There is a wet scent on the air now though, so very, very strong. Blood. Heavy, and in a very, very large amount.
Cyrus grimaces and rubs the back of her neck at the thought, whimpering softly, but nodding. "I suppose a broken neck's better than being filled with holes or hurting any of you," she murmurs before turning around to check her saddle bags. "Sorry Core, despite what my size might, afraid I'm not much of a fighter..." She pulls out her triage kit and slings it over her right shoulder before hooking her bottle of liquid bandage to her harness. She turns back to look at her allies. "I'll do my best to make sure you're all healthy as long as I can though. Between my training, supplies, and what my mutations offer I should be able to keep you relatively healthy. Oh, if anyone feels like they need to you're welcome to climb up on my saddle. Except for you Ep, you're-" She gasps and jumps backwards at the beast lurking in the shadow, the thick coppery scent hiding the scent of lust and making her stomach turn. Looking at the brawl over the sheep-girl she grimaces and turns to her associates. "Shouldn't we do something to help her? We can't just stand here and let that poor thing get attacked."
Epsilon hears Seguro's talk and notices the golden dragon. "Oh Seguro. You're here too? Good to know you're alongside us then. I'm pretty sure your skills would be of a great help too.". Then she see Cyrus' seemingly getting uneasy as she lay her left hand (Non-gloved), on the cow's shoulder. "Don't worry... you're with me. Just call me your shield if it help... okay?". Then looking again at the surroundings, she grab her dart gun and ready a few darts in it, ready to shoot. She advice to everyone, "Stay sharp, everyone".
Narg gives Randel a highfive and looks about to say something to him in reply before she is distracted by the sudden sound of the beast darting around... was that wwhat they were here to find? Irregardless she looks off to the side towards the sheep and then a look at the tiger to see just what it was doing. "I'[d say we find what we came here to find and help if the sheep really needs it."
Randel's brief smile from the high-five leaves with what little calm there was in the air. "Oh crap..." he quietly says when hearing the local wild life become more active. He quickly snaps his head around at the group, honestly a bit surprised for a moment before saying, "Right, huh.. Normally I'm alone out here, but from experience, we can't just stop and help every feral person that's being predated. Believe me, I've tried.. Was actually a fun few days when.." he closes his eyes and shakes his head a bit and gets back on topic, "Ok, first, we need a secure base of op's. Personally, I like a place I can sleep where there is minimal chance of getting either ass raped, or neck bitten off. Let's look for..." His monolog gets derailed when feeling something getting too close for comfort. His reaction is more, basic, and fitting of his current form. His fur on his neck and upper back fluffs up and spikes, and stars staring down anything that's getting close and growls, and barks if the threat gets really close. He readjusts his backpack to a more solid tie, and drops to all fours and paces around, between the group and whatever is out there.
Seguro gives a smile to epsilon, as the dragon gives Epsilon's hand shi replies to the agent. "I don't think that the dart gun will be of much use, sadly it will only work against that one nanite strain. It would have no effect on normal feral mutants." The dragon's form begins to fade from sight under the effects of hir camouflage power, the light itself bending around hir form as water flows around a rock, now a little more than a distortion of light. Seguro turns to the rest of the group in a quiet whisper. "Something is coming; I have a feeling we should try and get the lay of the land before it finds us, whatever it is we don't want to be found out in the open when it gets here. I will be taking to the air to scout ahead; I will keep you apprised of what I see over the coms." With leap and a flap of hir great wings, Seguro takes to the air, circling to gain height, looking down upon the city below.
Core takes a step back reflexively as - whatever it is - makes its presence known. "Ah! Right, RIGHT, they've allowed me to come here so I'd be KILLED, how silly of me not to reali - " She backpedals rather heavily into the wall of the nearest building and yelps in surprise at the contact, leaping forward. She starts to scramble for cover, then slows and just stands awkwardly. "Okay... it's gone. Yeah, I think it's gone. Uh." She looks around at the others sheepishly - then screws up her face. "I assume the rest of you can smell that, if /I/ can. That... that is a lot of blood." Suddenly more curious than frightened, she grits her teeth and creak-crack-bonesnaps as she gains height, ending up as one of those dragon-wolf-thing Talakai. Even before the change is done, she is sniffing intently at the air. "Where the heck is that coming from?"
The screams don't die down but intensify (Everyone roll me your Survival) sounding like they come from many directions at once because of the echo. There's an otherworldly quality and now silences again nearby with the running sound of mutants scurrying and outright fleeing for their own good. Ahead of you the sound seems to rebound, but you stand here in the light not moving and waiting. A fresh cold breeze sends leaves skittering in the street, now empty and void, thunder in the distance confusing things further as a light spatter of frigid rain strokes your cheek with the touch of death. Cold burns into your soul, and fear scratches with the coming threat of combat. (+roll willpower)
