RedXCross

There Are No Heroes

@The Harbinger of Ferocity
Ehh, that's fine. I mean, Chris knows vamps exist and that's about it. Everything else is speculation and conjecture.

Monster thing ripped person apart and left animal-like damage. I don't think it's going to be exactly on the mark.

I changed it to "supernatural" though just to leave things a little more vague.

There Are No Heroes

“At risk of sounding absurd,” Chris sighed, “We can rule out any and all wildlife that could be expected to come around here. Larger than a wolf, yes, but the bite-marks aren’t the same shape as the mouth of a bear, which I could probably assume to be the largest animal that we’re going to encounter up here.”

Chris stared at the images once again. He had a thought. It pained him to even consider it based on its level of absurdity, but the famous Sherlock Holmes quote rung in his head. When you rule out the possible; whatever remains, no matter how plausible, must be the result.

“The problem with assuming that it’s a human is that this kind of wound could not be replicated with any tool that I’m aware of… And that leaves only the things that… should not be real.”

With those last words he picked up one of the images. Heavy gashes from apparent claws dragged across the chest mixed with those dreaded bite-marks once more. The image of a monster from television and movies sparked into his mind, parallel to those images that haunted him since that one night as a student. If one existed, it was probably safe to assume that the other existed as well.

He scanned his brain for a way he could state this that wouldn’t question his ability or his credentials. He was a professional after all.

He churned out these last words as he tried his best to keep a neutral face, “Either some kind of genetic experiment is happening up here, or we’re dealing with something supernatural in nature. Perhaps this… Cutter can explain more on the situation. At the end of the day, somehow that’s the only explanation that makes a lick of sense.

He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes for a second. God, was he tired, and frustrated. His anger was reaching the surface, and would probably break him before he could break anything else.

@Kidd @The Harbinger of Ferocity

Starkissed

With Rimguage || Edge of Camp || Locked in Conversation
Mood: Curious

@Mae

Numas’ eyes wandered over the trail of people that were coming in. All of them filled to the brim with excitement and energy like pups of the animal that marked their tribe. Numas looked away for only a moment as their eyes wandered to the mark on their hand. The strange colored shapes that were there for such a long time now made him wonder of their significance. They meant nothing to the Rumasra, that was for sure. But perhaps their connection met with the others…

Suddenly, Numas heard the clacking of objects and their eyes rose to see a large man approaching from the tribe below. Their air of significance and duty that mounted them like a heavy robe brought Numas to the assumption that the man was quite important in the Wolfrahg tribe. Perhaps he was even the heir that was getting married tomorrow. It was difficult to escape that information when everyone talked so much.

Why had humans put so much significance on this bond? It was definitely a question to ask oneself. Perhaps it had links to the divine.

”I can’t say I’ve seen you round before.” The man said with a rough tone. His whole posture commanded authority.

Numas took a moment. They stared at the man’s rugged face, the thick, jagged muscles that made his body, and then Numas’ eyes locked on the strange, jagged mark on the man’s chest.

“That mark…” he said, forgoing any level of dignity or formality, “Where did it come from? Why do you have it?”

Numas dragged their staff across the dirt and drew a line between the pair of them so they could lean in closer and get a better look.

“Curious. I have a strange belief that all of us will be coming together for some reason... What impulse causes our very-different clans to come together? Tell me, have you ever wondered what the divines must be thinking at this moment? Why do the bring so much attention to us tiny… humans?”

Numas cracked their neck, and gave the man a strong, stern look one last time as they anticipated what may come next.

Skills

• Natural Connection:
  Numas has an excellent understanding of plants and their properties. They can recognize most plants for the various abilities and support they can offer. This is exceptionally proficient in the marshlands, though some of this knowledge does trickle over into other locations.
• Witch Doctor: Beyond knowing plants well, they also know certain charms and enchantments that, when combined with other aspects of nature, can become powerful healing concoctions or other such potions and salves. This is made of a combination of their own research, their mother's time as witch doctor, and other sources.
• Interpretation:

Sometimes Numas will bring their followers into trances via various hallucinogens. Numas can recognize symbolism in various dreams or hallucinations and use them to understand what is trying to be said by the incorporeal forces of the world. This is generally where some of Numas' absurd plans come from.

• High Constitution: Numas' experience in the wilderness with plants have rendered them immune to many poisons and toxins. In a pinch, they can eat things that would make most other people sick or dead with a much less severe reaction.
• Slow and Painful: Their witch doctoring can work in reverse as well. They know how to concoct lethal poisons that could strike opponents down very quickly when administered.
• Wierd and Wirey: Numas tends to avoid fights whenever possible, but if they must their movements and actions are incredibly unpredictable and strange. Their flexibility and agility confuse opponents, then usually they try to strike with a poison and run away.

₁₅

There Are No Heroes

Chris shot a sideways glance at Piper for a moment as he overheard the small quip, but he decided to make nothing of it. Whatever she said about him wasn’t important. Especially when her mouth seemed to shut once the pictures were lain out across the table.

Horror movie gore doesn’t compare to the real thing. Once you’ve seen someone eviscerated like the pictures of the victim on the table, there was no way any movie would ever compare to the levels of disgust thee pictures generated. It wasn’t a wolf. The claw marks dug deeper than the average for a feral wolf, and teeth that ripped that deep into skin couldn’t have done the damage of your average wild wolf, but at the same time the marks didn’t seem to match that of a bear, or another mammal that was prone to aggression.

Like a super-sized wolf emerged from the shadows and struck down their prey. Chris understood the sheriff’s skepticism. The fact the man had none of the knowledge he had when it came to animals allowed a little extra room for speculation, but he knew just by looking at these pictures that whatever “thing” killed the man that his own response was going to border on the level of absurdity.

He eyed Carver behind him. He saw them man’s gun peeking out from under his jacket. The man seemed just as intent on doing something about the situation, by whatever means necessary.

Chris’ hand clutched in a fist. God, he’d love for someone to step out of line right around now.

“Well, there it is,” Chris muttered, “There’s two ways we can do this: I can tell you what didn’t kill the victim we see in front of us, or I can give you some theories on what it might have been. One will leave room for your own guessing, and the other may throw my authenticity as a professional into the question.”

He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck as he stepped over to the other side of the table, “Either way, I don’t think anyone is going to like where this is going.”

@Kidd @The Harbinger of Ferocity

Starkissed

discord.gg/y3fFQ

There you go!

Starkissed

Alone || Edge of Camp || Eyes on the Wolfrahg
Mood: Contemplative

The Rumasra arrived a few days early, as they seemed to do almost every year. Their Chief, Reisa Ruma, always preferred to err on the side of caution. As a clan from the marshes, their people struggled outside of their wet, squishy refuge as the plants and animals grew more foreign the further they pushed from their nature sanctuary. Truth be told, it had been a while since Numas was in attendance. In fact, Numas almost seemed eager about the meeting of their clans this year, much to Reisa (and everyone else’s) chagrin. Their witch doctor was an expert, but Numas’ beliefs and thoughts put many others at edge. The Rumasra were not a spiritual people. Their superstition kept them on their toes around graveyards and nature spirits, but that was as far they stretched.

“Now, Numas,” Reisa pulled them aside a few days into their journey.

Numas’ head tilted towards their chieftain. Beads clacked against each other as bound strands of hair banged into each other, and they leaned against their curled, long staff.

“Yes, Reisa?”

“Must I remind you that you are representing the Rumasra while you are here?”

“I will stay out the way,” Numas coughed.
“That is not what I-“

“I understand, Reisa. You do not agree with my practices, and your fear is that my ‘dangerous thinking’ will ‘poison’ others and reflect poorly on the Rumasra.”

“Very astute of you.”

Now, Numas stood leaning against their staff at the edge of the camp site with their free hand crushing some dried leaves within it, and their usual pondering went by as the mighty Wolfrahg wandered into the large group that was beginning to grow.

For his joy, Numas had plenty of time to think, and to share their thoughts with some of the others on their long, arduous journey from the marshes they called home. Numas’ time away from the tribe came in handy when it came to discovering plants that no one had ever seen before. Many nights were spent with Numas and one or two young people that joined with them as they brought praise to the Gods. Numas constantly asked for their names, for their dreams, and while they never brought the answers Numas was looking for, they did send their images. Usually, it was up to interpretation.

But their last dream was not the usual fanfare. Its images were so… literal. The banners of the clans burning down… Numerous animals tearing each other apart, as strings pulled at marionettes that were already bleeding…

Numas wasn’t weighed down by these other images. They scratched at their damaged, blind eye as they brought the crushed herbs up to their nose and took a quick sniff.

Perfect.

From scent alone, Numas predicted this would bring his mind and body together once more, at least for a few moments the next time he would commune.

Starkissed

@HowlsOfWinter To be honest, I'm pretty sure this whole thing isn't supposed to be combat-focused.

Just this time stamp in particular it might come in handy.

There Are No Heroes

Hey @Kidd, where are ya?

Starkissed

Numas was once male, now agender, but Xyxis has been, is now, and always will be without gender.

Starkissed

Xyxis' Presence

Xyxis is unknown to most of the tribes. The idea of abstract thought is likely without definition at this point in time, but there is a place that suggests a group that may have known him once upon a time. An old craggy valley hidden far away in the shifting sands of the desert suggests hides several artifacts that defy human comprehension. Shifted rocks and twisted markers that could not have been made by human hands hide in this old canyon, and some painted markers on walls suggest a meeting between humans and some terrible, horrible creatures – a mix of spiraling limbs and other things.

Xyxis would be the only one who knows said valley exists. And the artifacts within have the same effect as their Unnerving Sculpture, and some of the walls may still have some Overwhelming Images mixed within the actual wall paintings.
It almost looks like a personal playground Xyxis once shared with some poor unsuspecting people.