Random Encounters

[thebrownacid]

[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.

Comments

[thebrownacid]

"I'm one of the only noncombatants. But the Pack fights. They can kill it. They kill monsters once I find them for them." She's trembling like a leaf as she looks around. "Poor hoomins. At least I got them to get away from the edge but now everything's wet."

The shark leaps again, and this time manages to snap at the dangling turbine and drag it down with it. The lights go out on one side.

"Rogues. That's what they call them. Most sharks hate the big buildings. But something like this happens every once in a while still..."

[tookhishand]

"Hoo--you mean humans?" Not much of a joke. He supposes there's nothing he can do, not being a real soldier-type himself.

"Not the best hunting strategy. It's suicide for the shark, it can't breathe."

[thebrownacid]

She blinks at him. "It's unnatural for them?" Her brow wrinkles in confusion. "Dangerous?" That doesn't make any sense. She rubs her face and glances back over the edge of the building as the shark crashes to the surface again.

"That makes even less sense. Sharks are all about survival."

She looks up. A big shaggy-haired Tarzan looking dude wearing nothing but tattered cutoffs is striding over. He glances at Donald curiously, then turns to the little hippie.

"Cat says you got problems up here." His voice is raspy from disuse.

"Hi Khan!" Jen nods rapidly. "Big shark, killing itself to jump this high. This guy's right. That's not normal."

"No," Khan replied slowly, looking back out over the edge. "Not normal at all."

[tookhishand]

"They're fish. They have gills, not lungs. It is suicide for it to beach itself."

Unless the shark has changed in other ways...

[thebrownacid]

Khan stares at him with pale brown eyes, if anything reading less human than Jen. He nods. "Point." He went to the edge of the wall the shark keeps appearing near and peers down. The air seems to gain in tension and Jen wiggles as she watches him. Then, the big shaggy man starts to growl, low in his throat.

Jen squeaks "That's not good" very quietly, but it's not anyone there that Khan is angry at. Instead he looks back at them with a thunderous scowl.

"Someone's controlling it. Someone's forcing it."

[tookhishand]

"What for? Aren't there better weapons out there?"

Ones that make it farther onto land.

[thebrownacid]

"It's not the point--" Jen starts, but the big nonhuman with her is already moving. Snarl growing loud in his throat, he bounded for the edge and promptly dove over it. Something big and black flapped off toward another building.

"It's a challenge," she says sadly as she watches Khan leave. "Only the strongest can control the megalodons. Khan can, Maggie can. And whoever is risking humans and sharkies to get his attention can too."

She squirms worriedly. "He should have waited!"

[tookhishand]

"For? Has anyone called your friends?" Pack, she said... Vampires aren't the sort to use that word.

It's a silly word, in his opinion. He'll never have a 'pack', just a family who are so far away.

[thebrownacid]

"Kitty did." Even now said cat is bounding back up, with a rolled up bit of paper in his mouth. She takes and reads it. "Three minutes."

She looks at him worriedly. "They're fierce. I play human better than them. But if you want to stay you can."

[tookhishand]

He tilts his head, just a little inhumanly.

"Not everything is divided into 'your kind' and 'humans', you know."

[thebrownacid]

"Oh I know, I've talked to a few kinds who are alive but not human. Got a friend who turns into a big kitty!" The idea that the Pack is soon to arrive has calmed her some.

"I was curious about you but we were still you know, kind of circling around each other before crazy sharkpoop started happening. But my point is, um, some of my Packmates are scary."

A slim figure in black ninja-like attire and a blank, doll-like white mask is now standing behind Jen. Its eyeholes are black and unreadable but it gives the impression of considering him.

[tookhishand]

"I... can become a wolf." It's so much more than that, though.

"And I've seen scary, believe me." Incredible, insane things. He can hold his own.

[thebrownacid]

They both lean forward a little, with identical headtilts, peering at him. Jen blinkblinks.

"You already sorted out being a wolf? You should talk to Maggie, she's good at that stuff." She notices her increasingly creepy shadow and tilts her head back to greet it. "Hiiii Eight!" It waves back.

"This is Eight, she's my clanmate. She doesn't talk. What's your name? I'm Jen."

[tookhishand]

"I've been a 'wolf' for years, believe me. I don't need help." Not with that. He came to terms with it on his own.

"Donald. My son never speaks, I'm quite used to it."

[thebrownacid]

"Hi Donald! Oh he's one of the quietpeople too? That's okay. I can talk enough for two anytime, can't I, Eight?" The figure, who perked up at the mention of Donald's son for some reason and seems to have engaged more in the conversation, nods enthusiastically.

"Oh no, I mean, she's the one who knows wolf stuff. I mostly know kitty stuff. All I can say in Wolf is dirty jokes." The cat meows in agreement.

"The Pack will be curious. But I'll stand for you. Everyone gets a vote, they can't just be mean or something."

[tookhishand]

"Wolves--the real kind--have never spoken to me, I didn't say that. It must be different here." Very. Sooner or later it's going to come out he's hopped realities.

"A vote for what? To kill me or not?" Say yes and he's leaving. Now.

[thebrownacid]

"Oh, okay. You're not a kang-roo, are you?"

The figure behind her pauses, then slowly facepalms and shakes her masked head.

"Garou," says a raspy voice from the mouth of the staircase. A middle aged nonhuman woman with frizzy russet hair steps out. "Sweetie, just say werewolf, you're never gonna get that right." She pauses a bit away and her nostrils flare.

Jen leans over and whispers "Vote for ally stuff. This isn't like before the war, we don't just kill people."

"Nnf. Nnf. Yep, smells like wolf. But he can't be Garou. He ain't enough of an asshole."

[tookhishand]

Heh. "Can you sum up all werewolves that way? I'll agree some are, but that's true of any group of people."

[thebrownacid]

Jen starts "Maggie--" but Maggie just scoffs.

"The Garou used to like to kill my people on sight when they were around more. If there were nice ones running around, they sure didn't live in Saskatchewan." She sniffs derisively this time, and looks over her shoulder, out over the water.

"Danica and Petra are on their way. He already left, didn't he?"

Jen droops visibly. "...yeah."

[tookhishand]

"The odds are against everyone bitten being a killer, although I suppose the ones that were could murder the ones that weren't as... bloodthirsty."

He did say bitten, not knowing he's given himself away without a doubt. Oops.

[thebrownacid]

"Bitten?" Maggie blinks, and sniffs him delicately again. "Huh! No, sweetie, you're not Garou, Garou are genetic. You've got a wolf-soul, yeah, but not the...crap I forgot what they call it. It's sort of a massive inborn anger management program." She rubs her chin. "Well that's new. Anyway. Hi. I'm Maggie, packmate to these guys. Did anyone level with this guy?"

Jen just blinks so Maggie goes on blithely. "Oh, well then. Hi, we're vampires. No, we're not planning to eat you."

[tookhishand]

"No disclaimer necessary, I guess what you all were." By scent. "And you haven't mobbed me on sight."

On to the main question: "No. Not genetic. It was a lab experiment with me as an unwilling subject, if you're curious. I'm Donald."

[thebrownacid]

"Nah, the war is over, we don't have to play by those shit rules anymore so we don't." A tall blond woman wearing biker leathers comes out of the stairwell with a few others walking behind them. Maggie bumps fists with her as she stops a little ways off.

Jen nodnods. "Made things easier on a bunch of us."

But everyone goes quiet when he mentions the lab experiment. "...what?" the hippievamp asks in mild horror. Not surprise though. As if she's heard of other sorts of...experiments.

[tookhishand]

He seems more awkward than upset. "As I said to Jen, it was years ago. Irrelevant and not going to happen to anyone else. I've adjusted."

[thebrownacid]

Maggie steps back, swearing softly under her breath, and the big blonde woman touches her shoulder comfortingly. Meanwhile a distressed, inarticulate noise comes from behind 8's mask and she twitches agitatedly. Jen strokes her arm and she slowly quiets.

"Well some of us are big on moral outrage. But um...." Jen's lower lip trembles. "Some of us came from labs too. The Technocracy. Big experiments on people. New species. Lots of vivisection and stuff." 8 flinches and Jen goes back to comforting her.

The blonde, and the strangely colorless tall figure in the pale suit behind her, glance between all the participants. Then they step aside to let someone else through.

This is a shorter, slighter woman, pale, thin-faced, with dark green eyes and black hair, in a concealing dark blue coat and boots.

"A werewolf virus. The Technocracy is trying to develop a werewolf virus." Her eyes narrow thoughtfully, and then she steps forward. "Jen. You've made a new friend, why don't you introduce us?"

Jen nodnodnods. "Danica, this is Donald. Donald, this is Danica. She handles alllll the weird stuff."