Richard nods to Sylar and draws his own pistol. He covers the other side of the rafts, scanning the fog for any movement.
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There is another sound, like the snuffling of an elephant, and then a gargantuan shadow, 16 feet tall, appears in the fog to Richard's left.
Ken's eyes dart around, then fix on the huge shadowy form. The blood turns to ice in his veins and he sits perfectly still.
You know, I used to dream of this kind of thing as a kid... And I hope we're not in hell.
Sylar raises his pistol and switches to a two-handed weaver stance as he aims at the vague shape in the fog.
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The shape roars again, a sound that shakes the very earth beneath your feet. It charges forward and from the fog steps a brightly-colored reptile covered in a soft down. It stands bipedal, 16 feet tall, with tiny forelimbs and two powerful hind legs. It would be beautiful were it not for the rows of razor-sharp teeth that line it's huge mouth. It reels slightly as the slugs strike home, but shakes off the effect and moves in close.
"Get the raft back in the water, and everyone inside!" Michaelson shouts. "Our only chance is to get to deep water, where it can't reach us!" As he says this, he moves to begin dragging the raft back into the water. The other passengers scream in panic; some helping with his efforts, others merely cowering.
The beast roars a challenge and, moving impossibly fast, it snaps at the nearest target, but the attack misses Gregor by several feet.
Seeing the beast, Richard takes aim with his 9mm and pulls the trigger, unloading 3 rounds into the vitals of the monster.
Damage:
Damage:
Damage:
With DR2, damages is 2,10,10 plus damage multiplier of x3 for vitals for totals of 6, 30, 30??.
Now I am not sure I am correct in all of my numbers, so please correct wherever I made a mistake...(boy its been a long time since I used guns in gurps..lol)
"HOLY CRAP!" Kidd shouts as he backpedals back to the raft. He desperately grabs ahold of it and helps drag it back to the ocean.
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The dinosaur shudders visibly as Richard's bullets find their mark, but the monster keeps going. This time, it snaps at Richard, but again, the creature's wounds keep it from finding it's target.
With supreme effort, Michaelson and Kidd manage to get the raft back into the water (with some hep from Gregor and Christine). "C'mon!" James shouts to Richard and Sylar, "Get in!"
The T-rex was fast, maybe as fast as hollywood portrayed them. But still faster than himself.
Knowing he wouldn't have time to turn and run for the raft, Sylar shifted to the side, separating himself from Richard in a hopes of keeping the creature in a position to choose between the two of them.
Seeing how the creature was affected by the shots, Sylar fired again.
Skill is 13 +1 aim +1 Brace -3 vitals +5 size -2 distance (5 yards) = 15
3 shots (at 8, 10 and 14..I think?)
Damage=
Damage=
Damage=
So damages is 12, 11, 2 with the DR subtracted, then x3 for vitals, giving totals of 36, 33, 6. I think...
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Finally, the wounds take their toll, and as the colossus lunges towards Sylar, it collapses on the sand, coming to rest within inches of his feet. It's chest heaves once and Sylar is assailed by the scent of death. The great predator makes a sound like a carburetor going out, then lays silent and still.
Aboard the raft, the passengers erupt in cheers.
Sylar stares in shock at the creature laying before him. This was something from a nightmare. And it wasn't New England.
Even through his shock, his recent training at the academy pushes him to action.
Options? This is some scary s#$t! The beach is exposed, but with this fog we have no idea which way to go. Back in the rafts? And what, just float in the current? Wait for the fog to clear? Only positive I can consider right now is that if this is an apex predator, it hopefully means there aren't any more nearby.
Sylar's talking is partially just voicing his own thoughts, partially opening up to the others. While talking he drops to one knee, and quickly ejects the clip from his Sig Saur and loads a fresh clip. Chambering a round, he ejects the fresh clip and loads a round from his partial clip and reloads the full magazine, providing him with the maximum rounds in the clip.
Setting the safety, he slides the pistol back into his shoulder holster. Pulling a box of shells from the bottom of his bag he reloads his first magazine and slides it back into the holster. His gear had been packed for a flight, not walking. He next pulls out his sat phone and powers it up looking for a signal.
Redistributing some of his gear, he next pulls the rifle stock from the bottom of his backpack and pulls the shoulder plate off. Inside the pieces of the .22 are stored and he quickly assembles the rifle.
More for rabbits and wolves than dinosaurs, but its what I got.
Every couple of seconds during this time, Sylar takes a quick look around checking for additional threats. He keeps everything inside one of his two bags, ready to grab and run if needed.
It takes only a couple of minutes to ready himself. Standing he straps the carry-on under the backpack and shoulders the backpack. With the rifle slung from a shoulder, he looks back at the others.
What? You don't travel prepared? I just wish I could have brought my mossberg and AR!
Richard, right? Nice shooting, for a beat cop. Always thought you guys just sprayed and prayed. Thanks.
"Not a problem, and have not walked a beat in some time."
Still stunned by the beast, Richard just kinda stands there looking at it, like it might disappear at any moment.
"A f#^$ing dinosaur. You have to be kidding me...seriously a f#^$ing T-rex. What the hell is going on??"
He still has not moved, however he had holstered his pistol.
Ken stares straight ahead, eyes wide. He realizes his mouth is agape, so he slowly shuts it as he takes in what he just saw.
"A live dinosaur? And they just shot it? With pistols?"
He fights the urge to pass out.
Kidd is freaked out.
"What the hell was that? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"
He is practically tearing his hair out.
"That was like... Smaug the dragon! Where the hell did we end up, Middle-Earth?"
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Most of the passengers in the raft cower in a mix of terror, panic, and wonder. One among them, however, the novelist Killian Roberts, exits the raft to approach the fallen dinosaur trepidatiously. Kneeling next to it, he examines the body with a practiced eye.
"Hmmm. Yes, definitely a Tyrannosaurrid. Remarkable!"
Turning back to the astonished gazes of his fellow survivors, he remarks, "I'm a big fan of dinosaurs." He gives a sheepish grin. "I take it none of you have read Allosaurus in Central Park? Pity. It's one of my better works."
Yeah, a freaking dinosaur. This is surreal. Sylar looks at Killian, what kind of fan? How much research did you do? Hear anything about any research into dino-cloning, like that movie? Does your fandom cover paleontology?
Sylar pulls his sat-phone attachment from his bag and hooks it into his phone. Whispering softly to himself he watches the 'acquiring signal icon blink', come on, come on. I just hope this is some secret research facility's escaped project. The alternative is less fun to consider.
Not that it will do much good... Sylar walks over to the others in the raft. You can come back to shore now. And just for what it's worth. Screaming just makes you sound like food. Do try to be quiet when the giant dinosaur comes charging.
He takes stock of the others checking to see which seem to be holding it together and which are ready to bolt. He finds himself already switching into a triage mode, save those he can, run faster than those he can't.
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"Mostly just the basics," Killian answers, still fascinated by the corpse. "I learned enough to tell one dino from another, and I know most of the proper names, though a few still trip me up. I had some help from a paleontologist at the Museum of History."
Much to Sylar's surprise, the satellite signal icon goes solid, indicating that it has acquired a signal.
"He's right, you know," Killian admonishes his audience. "Prey squeals."
"Hello? Hello?" Sylar speaks into the headset, but his queries meet only static. The unit seems to be working, but it is as if no one was listening.
The passengers seem nervous, but most are holding it together... for now.
Interesting, I have a signal from a satellite, but nobody is responding. With the satellite connection established, Sylar tries to query his calendar to verify date and time. He'll also pull up his map application and see if it can sync up his current position.
Richard heads back to the returning passengers and helps to unload the rafts again. He looks over as Sylar calls out about having a satellite signal.
"I can give you the codes to access the NYPD satcom network. Maybe we can get a hold of the dispatch and get someone out here...wherever here is."
"Well now doesn't that beat all...this should be somewhere in North America, right? Canada, or maybe New England? That is, if I'm not just dreaming..."
According to google maps, 20 miles inland of the Massachusetts coast, 23 years from now. Anyone else have a cell phone? I'd like to confirm this with another devide, and i'll take those codes Richard.
Sylar takes a look at his watch and turns, pointing out to sea. According to the map, Plymouth, Massachusetts is 20 miles that way, and we're standing in a corn field.
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"Twenty-three... how is that even possible?" Christina asks, the strain in her voice evident.
"Cornfield? I suggest you get that thing looked at. This obviously isn't a cornfield!" Gregor rants, waving a hand around them."The sat phone is clearly #$@&*!! I wouldn't trust it as far as I could throw it."
"Nonetheless, I suggest that we do not linger here," Killian offers his input. "That carcass will bring scavengers before long."
Gregor turns to Killian and snaps back, "And go where? The beacon is here, and this is where rescuers will search. Besides, the Sundance twins," he gestures to Richard and Sylar, "handled that pretty easily."
"Listen, we do not have much ammo, and staying on the beach might not be the best ideal. Lets move inland a little and sort out some kind of camp. We can bring the beacon with us, as we can use the rafts for parts. What do you say?"
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"And what about them?" Gregor rages, sweeping towards the wounded pilot and the man with the crushed legs. "If we move them, we risk doing more damage." Getting closer to Richard and Sylar, he whispers hoarsely, "Besides, they're dead already. The pilot isn't gonna last very long without help, and the other one's legs are crushed. I don't think an entire trauma team could help him. I say that we leave them some food and water and a gun and let them make the decision for themselves."
"And frankly," he adds, "I don't think that the old kraut is going to be much use, either. We don't need anyone slowing us down."
Kidd scratches his head.
"Yeah, the beach is great, but not with @#$%@#$ dinosaurs running around on it! Let's rig some stretchers from the paddles for the wounded and move the hell away from the beach."
While the others argue, Sylar takes a closer look at the rafts, they are pretty big, and inflated unwieldy. The two rafts would be easiest to keep in one piece, at least one of them, for now.
Pulling his pocket knife out he looks for a good spot, and stabs one of the inflated cells of the plane ramp.
As the air hisses out he looks at the others arguing, walks over to a life raft, pulls the emergency bag out and slings it over a shoulder, one emergency beacon, ready for travel.
He shakes his head and walks back to the deflating ramp and drops the bag on the ground, maybe more action and less discussion will get us there quicker.
With the cell deflated, he starts cutting along the seam to cut out a section of the material. We can cut this into strips and wrap them around a pair of oars. Fold up the rest of the material for shelter.
If someone wants to look for the plugs on the life rafts, and pull all the gear out of them. Pull the ropes off too. Unite the knots, don't cut them.
"Because he happens to be right! Now lets get moving before another one of these creatures shows up. We can hold a vote once we are all safe and out of harms way."
While working to cut out strips for a travois Sylar kneels facing the group especially Gregor, Never said I was in charge, but you'd be chow if Richard and I hadn't been here. So I guess that gives me a vote. And instead of complaining about the state of things, I'm doing something about our situation, you could call that another vote. And, I have a gun.
Sylar gives Gregor a discerning look before addressing the others. If you have something useful to say, say it. If you have a useful skill, get with it. If all you can do is complain about the situation, stand next to Gregor.
Now, are those rafts ready to carry?
Disgusted, Kidd just grabs a raft and starts dragging it.
"Enough talkin' already! Good god, it's like you're the chicks from 'The View'..."
Richard hurries over and helps Rick with the raft.
"Come on people! This stuff will not move itself!!"
It'll probably be easier to move if we deflate it and pack it up. If we really need to cross water, the kit should have a small manual pump.
Sylar motions to a couple of sturdier passengers, help me with the travois please, we need to get the pilot and... well whatever his name is, into these and get off the beach.
Richard finds the valve to the one raft and begins to deflate it. He takes care to ensure all removable items are taken out and stored so nothing is lost.
Once that one is done, he will move on to the other one, getting as many of the other passengers to help him along.
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A short time later, the group is as ready for travel as they will ever be. The rafts have been deflated, the two wounded survivors are on makeshift travois, and the loads distributed among those able to carry them. Haltingly, the group begins it's trek. The rocky beach soon gives way to an open field, and a structure of some sort looms out of the fog.
"Hey what's that?" Said Kidd as he dropped his end of the raft and stretched. "Is that a house? Maybe they've got a phone!"
Like I said, middle of a corn field.
How far away are we? Can we tell the condition of the structures? Any signs of movement? Worked fields?
HELLO?! ANYONE HERE?!
Sylar motions for the others to hold up. Richard, watch right. Sylar shifts himself slightly to the left, keeping an eye out for anything threatening.