by gentleman john » Sat Mar 05, 2011 5:21 pm
Father’s Day
The glowing clouds fill the sky above me. I can see them through the bones of city, broken by events that happened so long ago. The green and purple sky fills the rubble-strewn streets, the shifting colours reminding me of when the city was filled with life. My city. My people. Now they are all dead, and only I remain.
The rain begins to fall on the city. It is a bad rain, full of poisons left over from the wars that took everything from me. The voices in my head tell me to seek shelter. I want to disobey them and let the rain strip my flesh away, so I can become one with this place, but the voices won’t let me. They tug at my flesh, urging it into the ruins of the buildings. I watch the rain fall on the concrete and the metal, scouring it clean and breaking it up.
Then, the voices in my head begin again. There is life in the city, its chaotic presence obvious in the sterile wasteland. The voices guide me towards it. I pull my cloak about me so it hides me from sight and make my way across the ruins, dodging the poison rain. My chosen eyrie is the remains of an apartment block. A fifth floor balcony allows me to look down onto the remains of a park. Makeshift barricades surround old play equipment. The paint and plastic has been melted away by exposure to the rain – even the corrosion has been dissolved. Then, I sit and I watch.
Three figures enter the park, picking their way over the rubble. From my perch they look like grey dolls, their protective suits exaggerating the shapes of their bodies. The voices whisper to me, telling me that I must show them no mercy. I try to quiet the voices. I tell them these people mean no harm, that they are just wanderers trying to find somewhere to hide from the storm. The voices become more insistent, hammering at my mind until I stand up and scream at them to stop.
There is a sound of gunfire. Near misses tear into the shell of the balcony and I am showered with dust and splinters. The decision has been made. I pull my pistols from my belt and leap down into the street. My perceptions shift and time slows down. I can see the figures moving slowly, trying to shift their aim towards me. It is laughably easy for me to twist and turn, avoiding their shots. Even as I touch the ground, I spring forward. My pistols bark and the intruders scatter. One of them pitches backward, blood welling from its facemask. I turn, sending my gunfire to another target. This one finds cover, leading me into the line of fire from the third. The bullets rip into me. I feel a brief flash of pain before the voices in my head take it away. Without thinking I march a line of fire into the gunman’s chest. The protective suit ripples with the impact. I ignore it as it falls to the ground.
I land behind the barricade. I can see the second of the intruders – the last – scrabbling for its weapon. Carelessly I knock the gun away and rip at the hood of its suit. The plastic rips and I can see the face of the intruder. And I stop.
Memories flood into me as I look down into the face of my daughter. She stares back at me, shivering in fear as she waits for me to kill her. I raise my fist. She closes her eyes and turns away, waiting for the final blow. But I don’t kill her. As my hand touches her flesh, I send the machines in my blood into hers. She screams as they fly into her, then she goes limp.
I drag her away to my shelter and wait.
The apple does not fall far from the tree.
Dark Avenger
No. Enc: 1(1)
Alignment: Lawful
Movement: 240’ (80’)
Armour Class: As armour -3
Hit Dice: 15
Attacks: 4 (fists or weapons/infection)
Damage: 1d8+3 (fists) or as per weapon/special
Save: L10
Morale: 10
Hoard Class: VII (XV)
Dark Avengers are deliberately mutated humanoids. They are uniformly tall and muscular and resemble pure strain humans in appearance. Most of them are equipped with advanced weapons and armour. It is speculated that they were originally created before the Event as an urban super soldier or guards for important facilities. Certainly, they are found in or near Ancient ruins, guarding them from all intruders.
All of the Dark Avenger’s abilities come from a combination of genetic mutation and nanotechnology. A Dark Avenger’s body contains millions of nanomachines that are responsible for maintaining its abilities and keeping it alive. These nanomachines can be used to infect victims and transform them over a period of time into another Dark Avenger. The nanomachines must enter the body through an open wound in order to be effective. Once in a new body, the host must make a saving throw vs Death. If the saving throw succeeds, the nanomachines are destroyed by the host’s immune system. Otherwise, the host will transform into a Dark Avenger in CON days.
If adventurers enter an area that is guarded by a Dark Avenger, they will be followed and observed from a distance. Should the adventurers try and steal equipment from the area or engage in combat, the Dark Avenger will attack. Typically it will try to harass the adventurers, only confronting them when they are demoralized or badly injured.
Dark Avengers always have a lair. The lair usually acts as a base of operations and armoury, and is always well-concealed. For some reason, Dark Avengers’ lairs tend to be located at the top of tall buildings or concealed in underground tunnels or caves. A Dark Avenger will never leave the area its lair is located in.
Mutations: Aberrant Form (Natural Weapon), Increased Constitution, Increased Hearing, Increased Vision, Quickness, Regenerative Capability