As each of you enters the alleyway the coordinates led you to, you realize that you've never been here before and that the cartographers of town maps that had so adequately aided you in the past were completely unaware of this dank and isolated locale.
The cobblestone path beneath your feet reeks of urine and excrement while small clouds of flies buzz lazily around heaps of putrefying refuse. Not a soul in sight you step warily into this festering armpit in the great metropolis of Absalom.
At the far end of the alley stands a steel bound wooden door built at the base of a small, worn set of stone stairs. A wooden sign hangs haphazardly from a crooked nail in the door, the sign seemingly made from a piece of driftwood and bearing the words 'Ode...n o... Re...ecti...n'
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Professor Brooks wrinkled his nose as he entered the alley, and rechecked his map. Yes, this was the right place. He hated these kinds of jobs. He was a gentleman, not some common thug, and for his employer to send him to a place like this without even telling him why was disgusting. He would certainly not be accepting contracts from the man again. He was well known enough in the business that he could find the kinds of jobs that Ham needed without having to resort to something like this.
But he'd accepted the contract, and by the gods, he'd get it done. He always got the job done. He was, after all, a professional. Decision made, he walked down the alley to the building which had once been labelled Odeon of Reflection.
"You the one that sent for me?" asks a voice at the end of the alley. As Mr. Brooks turns he would see a man in long coat and wide-brimmed hat striding confidently towards him. As he walks, his coat sways left and right, revealing not only the polished grip of a highly advanced firearms, but also the ammunition to go with it. Over his shoulder is another firearm, this one much bigger than the other. He tips his hat as he stops just out of melee range. "Flint Blackwood.
Brooks frowns. "No, I am not. I was to meet the holder of my contract here. At a guess, we have the same employer." He tips his own hat. "Professor Brooks, at your service."
The Professor is a tall, slim man, with black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. The pockets of his waistcoat tinkle with the sound of glass as he moves, and he has a small crossbow hung at his waist, his only visible weapon. In his hand is a slim, elegant cane, and the chain of a monocle is visible in his jacket pocket.
Seems so," he says relaxing a little. He gives the good professor a once over. "You the magical sort? Whoever contacted us got some pull. Doubt this job'll be for the faint o'heart. And I doubt that crossbow'll do much good either," he says attempting to size up his apparent companion.
The professor frowns and hesitates as he considers how to answer, unaccustomed as he is to working with others.
"I've some skill with alchemy," he says eventually. "I'm more than capable of handling myself in a fight, though. And I've only rarely had to use the crossbow- I carry it merely as a contingency."
Flint perks up at alchemy. "No kiddin," he says, smiling big. He then throws the coat open wide to reveal the hidden, extra pair of arms. While slightly smaller than the main two, they are perfectly symmetrical with no deformations. They are well grown. "Me too. So what's yer specialty? Mines kinda obvious," he says un-holstering the gun and flipping it about with practiced ease.
Flint looks down at his creations and back up smiling. Good to meet someone that appreciated them. "Should get your own pair. They say two's better than one. So you're the one that's gonna fix us when things go wrong?" Flint asks, assuming this man to be the healer. Every adventuring party he knew had one that knew a thing or two about healing.
"If necessary, I suppose. I'm more likely here as muscle, to be honest." The professor's face twists in disgust as he says this. "That's what I'm usually hired for, and it's the impression I got from the man who gave me the contract. From what I know of group ventures such as this, we're likely to have somebody who specializes in the specific field of healing."
Flint scratches his head with the loaded gun in a confused fashion. It doesn't seem like a smart move but he knew how to handle the weapon better than anyone he knew. "Muscle huh?" It sounded a little far-fetched until he saw how well the man filled out his outfit. The fabric did indeed strain against muscle. Maybe he wasn't lying. But all he had was a cane and crossbow. "That thing a hidden blade," he says pointing at the cane, "or you one of them brawler types? Make the whole body a weapon and all that?"
"The latter. You are, I assume, familiar with the concept of a mutagenic transformation? I use that, combined with something akin to lycanthropy, to, as you put it, make my whole body a weapon. I will explain in greater detail once we meet any others who may be participating in this job. It's an uncomfortable subject, and I'd prefer not to have to explain twice."
"Riiight." The mutagen he got. He had his own to improve flexibility and aim thereby making his proficiency at shooting even more deadly. But he never dove much deeper than that when it came to mutagenic alterations. He knew it could be very versatile. Add claws, elemental resistance, alter mental, rather than, physical abilities. But this was a little much. And did he say Lycanthropy? He'd met a good lycan once, Once, but the rest seemed to be nothing more than animals with a little intelligence. Flint's hand remains on his gun and he keeps one eye on the good professor while they wait for the others.
Professor Brooks shrugs. The man will be meeting Ham soon enough, if they are to be working together. Otherwise, he prefers to leave the details of his other half out of the conversation.
Savyon steps around the corner, stopping in surprise at the two other figures standing there. The average looking human is dressed in a voluptuous blue robe, a book visible attached to his belt, and using a carved staff to walk with. The staff has carvings along the length of it, and at one end has leather strapping tightened around the end. "Well, looks like I'm a bit late to the party. Hope you haven't been waiting long gentlemen. The name's Savyon. Hope I'm not interrupting anything?" He looks back and forth between the two already there.
The professor tips his hat once more. "A pleasure. I am Professor Brooks, and this is Master Flint Blackwood, whose acquaintance I have just had the pleasure of making. And I've only arrived a few minutes ago, but I expect that more individuals will be arriving, including our employer, so you're by no means late. Early, if anything."
Flint turns and nods at the newcomer when he is introduced. Seeing the gaudy blue robe, the staff, and the book, he has to stifle a laugh at how cliche it looked. "Ah. He's the caster. Or just really likes blue."
+2 vs curse, fear, and emotion
You feel something enormous brush against your psyche. You also get the distinct impression that your acknowledging it being there is what drives it away...
Flint's smile disappears as something tries to invade his mind. "Alright," he says, flinging open his coat and drawing several items at once. His right hand grabs the visible pistol while another seems to just appear in his left. He trains one on Mr. Brooks and the other on the new guy. His other two hands grab two different vials from pouches at his waist. "Who did that?" He looks back and forth between them, waiting for an answer.
Your voice distorts weirdly and the shapes of your comrades swim and swirl into a purple miasma before you. The mist lazily curls about your body, it's caress causing parts of your gear to form ice crystals.
The back of your mind is suddenly struck by a sharp pain and your vision swims for a fraction of a second. The gun-wielding fellow has vanished and the mage begins to shimmer as if on the surface of water. A bitter taste coats the back of your tongue...
You feel a sudden vertigo and drop to your knees. You vomit something watery but can't quite come to your senses before your bowels release. A hunched shape lurks into view and you feel your body being lifted up.
"This human voided his bowels," hisses an inhuman voice,"This will increase the payment two fold."
Before you blackout you hear another voice snicker,"Careful, he might leak on you.."
In the next few moments your mind is alight with impressions that clash and collide like maelstroms of thought and eddies of feeling. Your best guess is that you are travelling a great distance via magical means and had succumbed to transition sickness.
Your eyes open to a scorched wasteland, the heat of the sun high above draws beads of sweat from your forehead and you notice a band of four individuals nearby. The largest one warbles a strange language and from beneath its cloak you see a second set of arms wielding wicked-looking weapons.
The band of beings charges you from 300yrds out...
Flint squints through the miasma at the others trying, with futility, to see them better. He then looks at his gun as ice begins to slowly travel up the barrel. Mist from his own breadth shows his own fingerprints along the barrel. He looks back at the others and realizes it wasn't them. Whatever tried to get him seemed to have gotten them instead. Thinking quickly, he downs the potion in his hand and feels invigorated. He pockets the bomb. His feet are a blur as he rushes to Mr. Brooks, the furthest from the exit, in an attempt to grab him and haul him out of the alley. On the way he tries to grab the new guy as well. "Need to go. Now."
You feel your limbs go stiff as you accept that you are indeed alone, your arm encased in solid ice as the extract meets your lips. A drop of the magical liquid touches your tongue and your body seems to vibrate from your core outwards, a warmth floods into you as a pair of hunched figures lumber into your periphery.
"There's some fight in this one, the master may have found a worthy soul after all," growls something in a bizarre way, the vocalization somehow off,"But we have a job to do."
A hand wielding a gun vibrates free and you punch a round into the nearest figure.
"VAKLASH'ZA'AT!!! The human shot me! Another price increase, brother!" hisses the alien being,"Subdue it and let's be done here."
You feel a sharp blow to the back of your head and all goes black...
After so gracelessly emptying the contents of his stomach and bowels, Savyon grunts loudly, and looks to the sound of the voice. He sees the four figures in the distance charging at him.
Savyon focuses for half a second to grant himself extra speed, in preparation of the oncoming attackers. He then undoes the leather strapping of his staff, and slips one of his bombs into the sling, soon setting it spinning, ready to send it flying at whichever target presents itself easiest.
The afterimages of your new comrades vanish in an ethereal gust as a pair of bestial creatures materialize at your sides.
They lunge for your arms!
The Professor struggles against Ham as his comrades vanish, and a pair of monsters appears and lunges for him. Now is not the time for mindless killing, he tells his other half as he dodges out of the way.
As you move to prepare your attack, your vision swims and bolts of red light pierce a number of the advancing creatures, the leader among those struck.
A strong arm lifts you from your slouch and pats you on the shoulder,"Tough for a human, hold on," the strange voice from earlier rings in your ears as your surroundings dematerialize yet again.
The beings grab your wrists and one of them leans in and pets your head with one hand,"Shh, shh, sh. There, there, it's gonna be alright. I need you to relax." whispers something not quite human.
You turn towards the voice and see a pair of glowing white eyes with a cloth covering where its mouth should be. Two arms grip your left arm, the one grabbed by this creature, and it strokes your hair with one hand and holds your hat in the last.
The other arm is locked in place by four arms of a second bizarre humanoid.
Savyon stiffens in surprise as he gets manhandled. Looking around for the source of the voice before once more being thrown into the grips of yet another teleportation spell. "Who are you? And will you warn before doing that next time? I don't have much of a stomach for all this teleporting." He grumbles in an undertone, not really expecting much of an answer however.
"It'll all be over soon..."
You latch onto the source of the voice, a living body of some kind. It grunts at the touch and you suddenly feel the soles of your feet striking a stone surface, the clamor of others shifting into focus.
You find yourself standing on a massive stone stage to an outdoor theater of some kind. The others are slowly gathering themselves and milling towards the stone steps nearby.
The being you're holding onto is a few heads taller than you and gently pushes you off of it.
"Double it, Solivagus, the little guy almost got himself killed."
"You dropped him, Kazithine," a tall strange being of a mechanical bent snaps back, its voice pleasant yet garbled in a metallic way, like two blades brushing against each other,"one and a half."
"He got s*!* on my best coat," the alien being retorts in a sibilant tone.
"Very well, one point seven five and be gone with you," the mechanical being throws the alien creature a sack of coins.
"Best laundry day ever..." mumbles the alien abductor as it walks past you.
"Come now, Savyon, join the others," beckons the machine entity.
"Vak wha?" Flint has time to think just before darkness takes him.
You awaken to the feel of cold stone beneath your prone body, a slight stinging feeling just behind your left ear, a dribble of blood forming a tiny pool beneath your face within view.
The area around you appears as some sort of outdoor stage with stone steps for seating, gently rolling plains extending in all directions but north, where an impossibly tall mountain range sits.
Dark, goopy splotches stain the stonework nearby as the being that you shot argues loudly with another, quite tall figure, easily seven feet.
"It shot me, Solivagus, you owe me double for that and I understand that my cousin Kaz got s&#$ on?! Just what do you think we are? Babysitters? EH?! I have half a mind to leak this little operation to Asmodeus for some better coi.."
The taller being raises both hands as it speaks to the injured being and the smaller creature rises into the air, its four arms grasping at its throat as some sinister force crushes its neck.
"Poor choice of words, Vaz, it seems our business relationship must come to an end. Liquidation so to speak!"
The mechanical being whips its arms into a frenzy of shapes and symbols that light up the air around it in flashes of numbers and formulae. The suspended creature's body contorts at odd angles, bones cracking and its goopy purple vitae pattering against the stone below it.
It yowls in agony and in a final crunch it dies. The remains are spun into a whirling sphere of mangled flesh that becomes suffused with aetheric bolts of lightning.
A flash blinds you all momentarily and Solivagus jerks one arm violently to the right, towards the other alien beings, the now water-like remains of their former leader splashing over them.
"Cousin Vaz never knew when to shut up, eh? Now he's all washed up!" cracks the already paid alien, the small group of them chuckling nervously.
"You are now my contact on your homeworld, so long as we have no qualms, yes?" inquires Solivagus tersely.
"You got coin, Kazithine has the time, master," replies the being with a deep bow, a large vortex of light springing into existence behind it,"Until next time."
As the beings all disappear into the portal, Solivagus lets out a deep sigh,"Regrettable but necessary."
Professor Brooks stiffens at the bizarre treatment of the creatures. If this is not the time for "mindless killing," what is, exactly? challenges Ham. Should we wait until we are already half dead before we fight back?
"Think, Ham," he responds aloud (a habit when he is stressed or preoccupied) these beings were clearly expecting us, and if they meant us harm, they would not have simply immobilized us. They would have attacked us directly, nor waited for the others to arrive before acting. I expect that we have just met our employers. Though I will certainly not be accepting future contracts from them, I will grant you that."
"This one has more to it than the others," quips the one petting you, its voice now decidedly female,"Relax, Ham, you need not fear us, we'll just be a moment."
The creature's last words echo in your head.
ARE YOU F$&%ING KIDDING ME????????????????????????????