thebrownacid | Random Encounters

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Random Encounters

[This is a casual rp starter for scenes with Jen Daring, the world's most harmless Malkavian Antitribu. It serves as a warmup spot for character ideas for the After Gehenna game.]

San Francisco was a fishing village now. Bay water lapped the bases of the surviving skyscrapers, so clear now you could see down to the shattered street. Some brave divers went for artifacts down there: jewelry, surviving tools, random items to decorate their chambers with and claim bragging rights just for surviving. An old hubcap could cost you your life now that the Farrallones and the Bay were wed in one stretch of water over the drowned city. Sharks--the main risk in the area and also the main livelihood. They might get a fisherman now and again, but most nights in the high village with its precarious catwalks, it was they who became dinner.

When the sun went down the fishing crews lowered ropes down the side of the buildings and hauled up the boats along with their catch. The hard, ugly end-of-the-day work was necessary, for one breed of shark hunted at night and could take out even the few old yachts they had left.

The grunts and creaks of the ropes and thunk and scrape of the rising boats were the first thing Jen heard when she woke that night. She opened the closet she was curled up in and spilled out, yawning hugely. The outer wall of the hotel room she was squatting in had shattered outward, and a huge, battle-scarred gray cat crouched among the bricks, messily dining on a pigeon the size of a football. He looked up at her with his one good eye and meowed conversationally.

Within half an hour they had both eaten, and Jen was sitting quietly on the edge of the cracked rooftop plaza of the hotel. Other villagers, human and otherwise, milled on the rooftop by torchlight, enjoying a barbecue out in the cool night air. The cat sat next to her, keeping watch. Jen was a little unfocused, distracted by the blobs of golden and royal blue light dancing through the air. She knew something was going to happen soon and she should be here for it, but not what.

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"Gangrel's one of the Clans of vampires that's still around. Turn into bats and wolves and stuffs." Jen picks up the cat, who mows irritatedly.

The one in grey is watching them, quietly, now smoking an antique cigarette of a brand now long destroyed.

"Petra is our foreguard. Infiltration is a specialty of hers." Danica's voice is tight. She hates waiting. "Once she reports back we'll have a better idea of what we're up against."

Hush up with your Looks, Roland, they already guessed what he was.

"We can wait, don't you think?" The question is for Roland, now that they're both here. His vote is towards helping, if he can, and if he gets a vote this time.

Roland studies Donald. The other man's vote is the deciding one, actually, little though Roland thinks to say so. "With so many people gone, and vampires... I couldn't walk away, I don't think." He says it matter-of-factly, because to him this isn't a matter of moral outrage, nor of concern. Duty, mostly.

He turns back toward them, looking over all of them before settling on the one who's obviously the leader. "If you wish it we'll move along. But we'd stay and maybe be of some little use, if you'll have us."

Jen twitches slightly and goes quiet, eyes staring into the middle distance. "...Receiving."

The grey one goes quiet and watches her. Danica instead addresses the two living people.

"I have two living people on my team already, so it's been done. This will be a hard ride, but with humans an endangered species and us dependent on them in about five different ways...yeah, we gotta protect these colonies. No running for us either."

She looks them over and nods slowly. "You have weapons?"

"Yes, we do. Guns." And he could use just about any sort of higher tech out there. It's the rare item he wouldn't recognize.

...That lets Roland know quite a few things about this world that he did not really expect. Not to mention about the company he's currently keeping. "And we can use most other weapons we come across." Though he knows little about this world, he says this with confidence. Weapons are what he does, and the idea of not being able to figure one out isn't something he even considers. "Your plan, sai? Wait for your spy to report, then ride?"

Edited 2014-08-18 01:16 (UTC)

Jen flails slightly, mutely, and the masked figure steps forward to steady her. Her eyes roll back in her head and she mumbles.

Danica glances at her but is apparently used to this, and nods grimly. "That's the deal. If you want to cover us while we dive in and act as the front ranks, we could use it. Especially if--"

Jen's head snaps up and she looks around. "Khan is in Torpor."

A round of curses goes through the Pack and Danica growls softly under her breath.

"That means that our scouts had better get really lucky, or if they're caught we may lose them both. Command decision. Get your gear, everyone. We leave in ten minutes with or without word."

'Ten minutes' is the part he understands, and 'cover us'. Simple, they can handle it.

He nods to the Pack, looking aside at Roland. "You're prepared, right now?"

Generally a stupid question to ask. He does it anyway.

It is a stupid question, and Roland's expression should be quite enough to tell Donald so. "Are you?"

"Torpor," he says then, turning his attention toward Jen. "What do we need to know about it?" He'd like, too, to know exactly what it is they're going to be riding, because chances are low that it's going to be horses. But that much he's soon going to find out. Best stick to the important questions.

Edited (icon) 2014-08-18 13:19 (UTC)

What would he have without stupid questions? Less fun.

"As ready as I can be." He prefers plans and traps and time to prepare... ten minutes doesn't give him a chance. Ditto for the 'Pack', poor things.

She looks up at Roland sadly. Khan's a pal. "They beat him really really bad but didn't do anything thatcould actually kill him. So instead he's knocked out until Danica can use her magic to wake him up. We'll have to rescue him. Maybe rescue the others too, if they get caught." Wibble. She hates fighting. She really hoped for a quiet night.

"I can maybe find out more. Maybe. And maybe help sneak us in. Otherwise I don't think I'm gonna me much help."

Danica has gone quiet, eyes closed, almost meditative. The sense of expansiveness from her is intensifying.

After a few years of traveling with someone, you learn a few things about them. This includes, in Roland's case, the type of fighting they prefer. It's what he prefers too, to be honest - getting the lay of the land, figuring out how to use it. But they're completely out of their depth here, at least for a little while, and Roland accepts that. Still, he knows Donald isn't completely satisfied.

"Do you mind if my friend gathers a few things of yours?" he asks, again addressing the group in general rather than only one member. "We'll use anything he takes as carefully as we can, and you'll find few better when it comes to machines."

"Assuming we have time. What do you have stored nearby?"

Ten minutes, and limited to what they can carry. He doubts he'll get anything more than extra bullets.

"Huh," grunts the big blond woman in response to Roland's request. "I handle tech and weapons, motor pool, stuff like that. Name's Catherine." She stumps forward on big booted feet and sets down a duffel bag and a heavy ammo case at their feet. "Have a look through there for starters, that's my go bag.

The bag is very heavy canvas reinforced with heavy steel wire, and the thud when she sets it down explains why easily. As she unzips it to reveal the contents she wrinkles her nose in irritation. Perhaps half a dozen weapons, from shotguns to machetes, accompany assorted gadgets such as infrared goggles and a motion detector.

Roland raises his eyebrows, hunkering to inspect it all. Of course there's the greed inside him seeing all of it - even the things he isn't familiar with, or maybe especially those - but it isn't precisely what he was thinking. He notes Catherine's strength, at least enough to carry a bag like that moderate distances, and looks up.

"This is generous indeed, sai Catherine, and I thank you for it. I was thinking bombs, or maybe, ah... grenados-" He looks up at Donald, fairly sure that's not the right pronunciation and wanting to check, "- or anything he could make from what you're not using. But this may work better." Here there's another look at Donald, still questioning. Not Roland's decision what the man feels most comfortable with, after all.

"You might like these." he says to Roland, picking up the infrared goggles. "Used to see in the dark. Do any of you need them?"

Vampires don't, surely.

Catherine shakes her head, rubbing her scarred cheekbone with one gauntlet. "Nah, you take that, I got options. Besides, Jen seems sweet on the two of you, better that you not get killed."

Jen nodnodnodnods and beams. "I do morale. Catherine punches butts."

The Brujah chortles. "Yeah, well, I just wish I had my hands on a few fitting sets of body armor. These days I'm back to stitchin' 'em out of leather, damn it."

Jen peers at Donald. "Do you heal fast like the big woofies?"

Roland takes the goggles, inspecting them while he waits for Donald's answer. He takes them in from every angle, stopping short of taking them apart, but only just. "I might need some instructions for these. Think I've got it figured out, but best be sure."

Catherine can explain. Every model is different, he won't risk confusing Roland.

"I do. We must have that much in common. But..."

But. Roland. Not a 'big wolfie', not going to heal.

Edited 2014-08-20 02:00 (UTC)

Catherine nods and steps forward, big hands gentle as she points out bits of the odd device. "Okay. Try wearing it before you need it. It's front-heavy and takes gettin' used to. This doohickey here turns it on. When you have it on, you'll see a light down in the bottom right corner of your vision telling you how much power you have left. It should last hours unless it gets damaged.

"The unit's sealed, water resistant, and armored against impact so it'll protect your head. I'm gonna ask Jen and Eight to stick with you guys. Don't you be shy about lettin' them meat shield you, all right? Eight especially is real tough."

Jen salutes around the bundle of cat currently in her arms.

Roland watches, listens, and puts the thing on as instructed, moving his head around a little before taking them off again. "If we start to slow you down, don't hesitate to say so. I'm a fair enough fighter up close - for a human, anyway - but if you have many ranged weapons I'll be most useful to you with those. Donald?" He looks to the other man, noting that he hadn't quite ended his sentence. "Was there something else concerning you? Ask it, for I'm sure these people are eager to set off."

"No, nothing you don't already know." Walking into danger worries him, though he did say yes. And would always say yes.

He doesn't speak up, continuing to search through Catherine's bag of fun and goodies.

"I'm gonna suggest you guys go with the heavy carbines. They're more agile than the rifles and we have more ammo for them. Shotguns for backup. I have enough to go around." Catherine, like Jen, seems more...alive...than the other vampires, to the point where she breathes now and again.

"Check the side pockets, I have some flare guns and a flash grenade or two. Careful where you aim those, right? Heh."

Jen sighs and closes her eyes. "Distraction. I gotta figure out a distraction."

Maggie looks over curiously. "Can't you just use your powers to get them high?"

Jen pouts fiercely. "They don't deserve it."

"Too dangerous, besides. Unpredictable. Unless you're strong enough to make them all very drowsy instead. As to weapons, we both have our guns too - his pistol and my revolver - but in mine, at least, bullet's've been fairly rare lately, and I'd conserve them if I can."

He digs through his purse, taking a few things out to make room for a weapon or two. Mostly it's spare fabric that he removes, typically useful but right now not nearly so useful as weapons. "Donald's made a bomb or two in his time. Such a thing could be a fair distraction if he could find the parts."

Congratulations, man. Roland has just volunteered you.

He runs a hand through his hair, down the back of his neck. Always the back of his neck when he's a bit stressed.

"We're running out of time. I couldn't make a bomb in five minutes, that's stretching my skill a little. Flare guns are close."

He's pulling those out, where they disappear into his backpack. Fun toys.

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