Abandonment.   Posted by The Story Teller.Group: 0
The Story Teller
 GM, 58 posts
Tue 29 May 2018
at 18:00
Abandonment
You climb down into the elevator and down again onto the floor below, being careful to spy the way ahead as you do so, so as to not be going in totally blind. The corridor below is much like the one above, though now you're down here you see that you've saved yourself a hassle coming the way you did as the stairwell next to the elevator has collapsed between the two floors meaning this was probably the only safe way down anyway. It is then that you hear another strange noise from down the hall, a muffled moaning sort of noise appears to be coming from one of the rooms a few yards to your left. You can just about see from here that the door to the apartment is slightly ajar.
Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 62 posts
Tue 29 May 2018
at 21:02
Abandonment
Tension. Instinct. Fight or flight.

The air shifts, in that way it does when the jungle tenses at a predator's passing. Even the dust seems to hold its breath as it hangs in the air.

In prison, such moments sent detritus like Reeves scurrying for his bunk, unable to be hunter, desperate not to become prey.

But here, there was no hiding. No guards. No bunk. Here he was either predator or prey. Was the difference as simple as... choice?

His heart rose, pounding in his throat, as he approached the open door, club raised, and pushed it inwards with his foot.
The Story Teller
 GM, 59 posts
Tue 29 May 2018
at 21:36
Abandonment
Tentatively you approach the doorway to the apartment ahead, club in hand, and peer into the room. There are two things that immediately catch you off guard:

Firstly the room beyond the door is not an apartment, rather it appears to be a police interrogation room. It's dark and bedraggled, like you would imagine one to look had the station it belonged to been abandoned and derelict for years. The table is still firmly bolted to the floor but the chairs are strewn clumsily across the floor and a large crack runs through the mirrored wall.

The second, and notably more pressing, thing you notice is a figure hunched over in the corner of the room that is clearly the source of the moaning. As you enter the room it appears to notice you and attempts to stand up, revealing to you its true grotesque nature. The creature before you vaguely resembles an armless naked human who's skin is stretched altogether too tightly over its angular skeleton but appears to be completely devoid of its own spine. Instead it has a very painful looking set of rusty metal rods protruding from its back connected with metal cables that hold its back in a backwards arch that looks incredibly uncomfortable. As it turns to look at you, you realise that instead of a face it has a large circular glass lens grafted in place with a rusted metal frame, not unlike a port-hole on a ship or the end of a telescope. It's pained moans come from behind the glass in its face.

Having seen you it starts to awkwardly stumble backwards towards you, wrestling with its own warped physiology to stay upright, writhing about as it does so.

This message was last edited by the GM at 21:39, Tue 29 May 2018.

Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 63 posts
Wed 30 May 2018
at 08:48
Abandonment
The dreamlike logic of this place lays a distant filter over the monster in front of him. It is a lowly, loathsome creature. Contemptible. It is a creature in pain.

Mute knew all about pain. Isolation. Being out of place in a hostile world. God, how he'd have done anything to end that pain if he'd only had the courage.

His knuckles tightened, white around the crude wood of his weapon. In this place he was either hunter or prey. Only his own strength could make that choice. But he would be a benevolent hunter.

He would end the pain quickly.

His shout, a guttural war cry, cut through the cell as he launched himself forward, throwing all his momentum behind one decisive strike.

((Attacking the monster, burning a fate point to get it done.))
The Story Teller
 GM, 60 posts
Thu 31 May 2018
at 19:34
Abandonment
It slowly lumbers towards you but your proactive approach more than out paces its awkward and laboured movements.


Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
The Story Teller, for the NPC Spineless Wretch, rolled 4 using 1d10+1 ((3)).

The Story Teller, on behalf of Laurence 'Mute' Reeves, rolled 7 using 1d10+5.  Initiative (1d10 + Dex + Composure).



You bring your make-shift club crashing down upon the spineless wretch before. It makes next to no effort to avoid your strike which connects violently with its skull which bobbles around limply at the end of its fleshy neck due to its lack of spine to hold it in place.


Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
The Story Teller, on behalf of Laurence 'Mute' Reeves, rolled 3 successes using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Strength + Weaponry (unskilled -1) + 3 (temporary willpower). 4 damage.


Still standing, the wretch lurches forward. Its writhing form seems unfamiliar with itself, like its trying to figure out how it moves as it does so; more a sequence of barely controlled spasms than any deliberate motion. That being said, all the effort its putting into moving seems to dedicated to closing in on you and causing you harm. It flails its head and torso at you like some kind of grotesque fleshy wrecking ball, but you are able to dodge its advances.


Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
The Story Teller, for the NPC Spineless Wretch, failed (no successes) using 2d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((2,1))

Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 64 posts
Thu 31 May 2018
at 21:26
Abandonment
The blow felt good, cathartic. So long spent as the weakling, the prey, the meat. Everyone else got their turn. This was his.

Letting the thing's own momentum carry it past him, he squares his feet, raises his weapon, and brings it right back down onto the meat, roaring as he does so.

"Eight years. Of my life!"

((Attacking again, burning another fate point.))
The Story Teller
 GM, 61 posts
Thu 31 May 2018
at 22:04
Abandonment
The creature's sudden lurch forward catches you off-guard as staggers right into your personal space, its cyclopean lens-like face mere inches away from your face. The glass is filthy, and even up this close you can't see what lies behind it. Your immediate attempts to bludgeon the creature are largely ineffective as it flails around in front of you, you are able to put your two-by-four between you and it to shield you from its attacks.

Using the two-by-four like a crowbar you pry the wretch from you, step back and swing hard, baseball style, this time hitting it square in the side. A loud crunch tells you that a number of ribs buckle from impact and the creature staggers to the side. It brings itself back up to a stand and lets out a hideous roar, like that of a wounded animal, before darting forward with an alarming ferocity. It slams into you, buffeting you back before slamming you square in the face with its large ocular lens.


Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)

You deal a further 3 lethal damage to the Spineless Wretch, which in turn deals 3 bashing damage to you.


Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 65 posts
Fri 1 Jun 2018
at 08:02
Abandonment
Reeves' nose pops, blood spreads across his face like a rorschach test. His vision threatens to blur, but here, in this place, he was not going to be beaten.

"Is that... all you've got?" he pants, spitting out a huge glob of blood-tainted saliva.

The club rises up once more, sheer animal instinct drives him forward and brings the nailed wood down onto the glass lens.

((Why break the habit of a lifetime? Attacking and burning a fate point.))
The Story Teller
 GM, 62 posts
Fri 1 Jun 2018
at 17:30
Abandonment
Bloodied, and with that dull hum that permeates the ears, nose and brain following a blow to the head, you do not allow the creature the chance for a follow up strike. Raising your club over your head you bring it down hard onto the wretches upward facing rib cage. With a sickening crack its sternum snaps, caving in its chest slightly and forcing the creature to the ground with downward momentum of the blow. It falls onto the scaffolding supporting its back, causing the metal rods to puncture deeper into its fleshy, spineless torso.

The vile creature twitches and spasms on the floor. I likely didn't have the coordination to be able to stand back up at the best of times, but with what little that remained of its skeleton broken and what you suspect to be a slew of internal injuries from the grievous damage caused by its own exoframe being driven into it, this thing poses no real threat to you any more as it lies dying in a crumpled and bloody heap on the floor of the out of place interrogation room.
Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 66 posts
Fri 1 Jun 2018
at 18:01
Abandonment
In a moment that seemed to hang in the air, Reeves felt the rush of strange new chemicals in his brain. Triumph. Animal bloodlust. Power. He'd never felt like this before in his life.

It felt good.

Standing over the fallen... thing, he realised that he wasn't done. Up, down, up and down again goes the club, nail puncturing pallid flesh, wood smashing brittle bone and impacting on displaced organs.

He doesn't stop until the thing is motionless.

And the moment fades. A moment so alien to his character, but which had left an everlasting impression in his psyche.

He could show them all.

Suddenly he begins to retch as the horrific reality of his situation returns like a kick in the nuts. He doubles forward and spews, but nothing so mundane as vomit comes forth from his guts. Maggots. A writhing stream of tapeworms, larvae, loathsome insects of every genus cascade from his bowels...

...and then he blinks, and there's nothing there. Nothing even on the floor. He just gives another dry heave and steadies himself while the nausea passes.

He centres. Deep breaths. Lets the distant sensation of pain from his smashed-up nose process. At long last, he glances down to survey his handiwork, the mutilated shambler at his feet.

"Huh. Who's the bitch now?"
The Story Teller
 GM, 63 posts
Fri 1 Jun 2018
at 19:13
Abandonment
You stand over the 'body' panting.

"Who's the bitch now?" You spit at the motionless lump of meat and viscera, a truer expression of catharsis unknown to man.

That's when you hear it, the click and creak of a door opening. The door to the room next to yours, the door that presumably leads to the other side of the glass divide. You then hear movement out in the hallway.

Was something ... watching you?

This message was last edited by the GM at 22:34, Fri 01 June 2018.

Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 67 posts
Mon 4 Jun 2018
at 08:45
Abandonment
The strange logic of dreams causes Reeves' attention to drift, gradually yet suddenly, from the gory scene at hand.

His beaten prey forgotten along with his weapon, he steps out into the corridor to see who might have exited the other room on the glass' far side.
The Story Teller
 GM, 64 posts
Mon 4 Jun 2018
at 20:38
Abandonment
You peer out into the corridor and recoil back into the room instantly as you glimpse the unmistakable silhouette of the Bodach making its way down the corridor away from you. Its movements are less jarring, less erratic than when you saw it in your previous dream, when it killed the poor bastard in the apartment block. Then it moved like a video on fast-forward, now its movements seem far more natural; at least as natural as a seven-foot tall, grossly dis-proportioned humanoid can move. It wanders, knuckle-walking like an emaciated gorilla, towards the stairs and then slowly descends to the floor below.
Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 68 posts
Mon 4 Jun 2018
at 20:53
Abandonment
Fear returns to this forsaken place, waving away whatever triumphant, barbaric yawping Reeves might have felt like a wind dispelling dust. The apex predator is back.

Heart pounding in his chest, he gives things a moment while he recaptures his breath, then moves to move out of the room...

...but not before remembering his weapon.

Looking down at the splintered, gore-splattered chunk of wood, he slowly reaches for it. Quite what it could do against the speed and ferocity of the Bodach, who can say. Probably nothing.

Nevertheless, he holds it like a lifeline as he heads out into the hall, intent on investigating the room from which it came, beyond the glass.
The Story Teller
 GM, 65 posts
Mon 4 Jun 2018
at 21:13
Abandonment
Waiting until the Bodach is totally out of sight, you slowly inch out into the corridor and into the adjoining room. It looks pretty much exactly like how you would expect the observation half of an interrogation room to look. There is a table in front of the one-way glass with a few oddments including some papers strewn across it. There are bookshelves and filing cabinets as well as a beat up old air-conditioning unit in the corner.




Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
22:08, Today: The Story Teller, on behalf of Laurence 'Mute' Reeves, rolled 2 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((9,7,6,3,10(+2))).


The room, much like everywhere else, is filthy and nowhere is this more evident than on the glass. A long, slender hand print can be seen on the glass.

This message was last edited by the GM at 21:14, Mon 04 June 2018.

Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 69 posts
Mon 4 Jun 2018
at 21:17
Abandonment
Without letting go of the club, Reeves sets about investigating. What's written on the papers? What are the titles of the books?

The handprint goes ignored... for the moment.
The Story Teller
 GM, 66 posts
Mon 4 Jun 2018
at 21:56
Abandonment
The books are strangely generic: dictionaries, encyclopedias, books on law. Nothing of any note or worth. The papers on the other hand are a different matter, they appear to be notes from an interrogation: your interrogation. Reading through it, it all comes flooding back to you. The dick-head detective and his drill sergeant routine, the shouting, the way your every word was twisted and used against you, and the way your attorney just sat there earning his paycheck from the state and not a damn thing more. The kind of guy who could barely stand up to his wife, let alone the rottweiler of a cop tearing into you.

And that's when you see it, at the bottom of the second page, how Askern had approached the cops with an offer. How he would trade one perp for another. He'd convince you to plead guilty, throw you under the bus, in exchange for them looking the other way on a misdemeanour charge levied against his son.
Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 70 posts
Tue 5 Jun 2018
at 13:55
Abandonment
Cold, empty, impotent rage sets in as the information seeps into Reeves' mind.

Askern... you son of a bitch.

The sensation, the feeling of betrayal, vindicating everything he'd ever felt about his lowly lot in life, chases away the fear.

Slowly, his attention turns to the handprint on the glass, the impossibly long, slender digits of the monster.

Reeves approaches the glass, reaches out his hand, and places it up against the print, focusing for a long moment on the sensation of standing where the thing had stood, seeing what the thing must have seen as it watched him dispose of the tormented, ruined creature on the other side.
The Story Teller
 GM, 67 posts
Tue 5 Jun 2018
at 20:25
Abandonment
You rest your hand on the print left by the Bodach, trying to put yourself in its place, imagining what it saw, what it 'thought'.

It is not long before you get a good idea.

As if summoned by your rage, a piercing scream echoes from downstairs and the sound of irregular foodsteps come thundering towards you. Much like the other night, the scream sounds uncannily like that of a terrified woman. Within seconds the pale, elongated form of the Bodach comes charging into the interrogation room where you pulverised the Spineless Wretch and you watch as it begins pounding at the fleshy heap you left behind. In all your life, despite everything that you saw in prison, despite every fight and rape and shanking you witnessed, you have never seen violence on this scale before. The Bodach slams and pounds at the corpse like it is tenderising a steak before picking it up by a leg and thrashing it around like a rag-doll, smashing its broken and pulped form into the walls, floor and ceiling and then over and over into the table before then holding it up and tearing out the metal scaffolding with its bare hands, like it were pulling the bones out a fish, and tossing the metal aside. It then holds the wretch over its head, lets out another horrifying scream (its mouth opening some four times wider than that of any equivalent human jaw) and tearing the bloodied carcass in half, blood raining down onto the Bodach's face and body as if poured from a bucket.

This message was last edited by the GM at 20:29, Tue 05 June 2018.

Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 71 posts
Tue 5 Jun 2018
at 21:05
Abandonment
Reeves' hand stays glued to the glass, to the Bodach's handprint, his gaze unwavering as the unspeakable violence unfolds before him.

Thus far, emotions had come in waves. Fear and rage formed the zenith and nadir of a dizzying trip. In this moment he transcended terror, he move beyond fury into a calm acceptance.

For the love of God, what could anyone do against that?

He steps back, his face absent, vacant, and retrieves the club from the table. Walking out into the centre of the hallway, he turns to face the door to the interrogation room and begins tapping the wood upon the floor.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He'd already failed to outrun it. No one alive could fight it. Here was death, grim and inevitable. Fuck it. Might as well get it over with.

Thump. Thump. Thump.
The Story Teller
 GM, 68 posts
Tue 5 Jun 2018
at 21:19
Abandonment
Hearing the tap, tap, tapping of your club against the ground the Bodach's head turns abruptly, like an owls, and looks straight at you, the sundered remains of the wretch still in its grip. The moments while its hollow, dead-looking eyes lock with yours seem like an eternity. Then, like a cat bringing in a bird from the garden, it tosses half the body at your feet cocking its head to one side as if studying you.
Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 72 posts
Tue 5 Jun 2018
at 21:33
Abandonment
Reeves holds the Bodach's gaze, his fracturing mind now occupying some calm plateau beyond mundane psychology.

He'd always been a clever kid, ya know? Asking questions, reading shit, he was a nerd, ya know? It was what he was good at. He'd made a deal with the world: he'd keep his head down and things would make sense. There would be laws, guidelines, structure he could understand.

He'd made a fucking deal!

And now he's standing before a Jungian archetype. The harbinger of the Devil himself. Evil.

Evil was not new to him, he'd known evil, seen evil, but always kept himself apart from it.

But just 'not being evil' doesn't make you good.

So why was evil now breaking that deal, too? Why now was his life intertwined with this loathsome, malicious abomination?

The half-corpse lands at his feet. He raises his club and slams it into the unrecogniseable flesh, his gaze never breaking that of the Bodach's.

"Why me?"
The Story Teller
 GM, 69 posts
Tue 5 Jun 2018
at 21:44
Abandonment
The Bodach watches you intently. Its expression never changes, but you can't help be feel like it takes some satisfaction, some catharsis in this brutal ritual. You ask it "why?" and it slowly turns to look at the mirrored glass separating the two halves of the interrogation rooms. At first you wonder if it is looking at itself in the mirrored window, but then you spot that it is looking slightly down, as though it were looking past the mirror. Come to think of it, if you didn't know any better, you'd say that were that not a mirror its gaze would line up almost perfectly with the papers lying on the table in the other room.

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
22:41, Today: The Story Teller, on behalf of Laurence 'Mute' Reeves, rolled 3 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((8,9,5,8,1)).

This message was last edited by the GM at 21:54, Tue 05 June 2018.

Laurence 'Mute' Reeves
 player, 73 posts
Tue 5 Jun 2018
at 22:04
Abandonment
Vengeance.

Had Reeves ever dreamed of vengeance? Had he wished ill, even unto violence and death, upon the unfair system which robbed him of his best years, subjected him to isolation, pain, humiliation?

You bet your sweet fucking ass he had.

The honesty, the acceptance, the ease with which he could admit that yes, those eight years had been spent fantasising about justice.

He had made a deal. And they had broken it. Not him.

It was like a millstone lifted from his neck. The idea that there could be justice on this Earth after all. Fairness beneath Heaven. What good was that compensation from the State going to do him? Money couldn't stop the nightmares. Money wouldn't wipe away the memories whenever shower water hits his face. Money couldn't clean up the world.

The Bodach can clean up the world.

The club drops from his grasp, he steps over the ruined corpse and forwards, to embrace the devil before him.

"I want the journalist next."
The Story Teller
 GM, 70 posts
Tue 5 Jun 2018
at 22:15
Abandonment
With your words it's as though time stands still, and in this singular frozen moment wherein Laurence Reeves had embraced something hitherto repressed, you watch the Bodach walk calmly out the room, into the corridor and down the stairs. It's movements calm, and fluid, like how you would imagine a person of its proportions to move, rather than the irregular and irrational staccato crawl you had previously seen.

After a few more moments you hear the rusty groan of heavy iron hinges from downstairs followed by the clang of a heavy iron door shutting...

And in that instant, you wake up, unsure if the clang was on this side of reality or the other.