2019.12.14: A Weird Night

14th December 2019: A Weird Night
Deciding to find out what happened at the hideout of a missing biker gang, Roxy encounters a strange creature, a very angry bird, and the chill of the dead. Oh my!
IC Date	December 14th, 2019
IC Time	Night
Players	Roxy, Dawson, Sumter, Germ, Wesley, Ghost 18
Location	Chula Vista & Styx and Stones

Roxy rolls Charisma(2) + Streetwise(2) (4 dice) vs 6 for 1 successes.

Hearing about the disappearance of a biker gang doesn't motivate Roxy, it could be they picked the wrong targets or got mixed up in something they shouldn't have. The state of their building, however, gives memories of her own gang, the Devil's Legion, and how they would perform magical rituals to do their dirty work. Curiosity piqued, after a few words around town she finds out the actual location, waits until late evening, then jumps on her bike and heads off at break neck speed. Behind her, a car pulls out, starts to follow, her usual tail that ensures she stays inside the city limits. This time she's having none of it, maneuvering through traffic she leaves the vehicle behind and heads for the area just outside Chula Vista.

It takes you a while to navigate the back roads of Prospect County and the further east you go the less and less landmarks mark your passage. Eventually you pull down a long stretch and see police tape blocking off the entrance to a long drive to your left. Do you break the tape and go in?

Taking a slow drive past the area, Roxy looks down the drive but continues on for another half a mile, ensuring there are no police or unusual vehicles parked nearby. Turning around, she races back up to the location and slows down on the approach, drifting quietly into the area further north, lights out, where she can park up the bike under the cover of some trees.

Another look around, then she reaches into her slingbag and pulls out a Desert Eagle heavy pistol, checking it over then tucking it inside her jacket. In again and out comes a solid crowbar, which she swings once or twice before moving off and toward the hideout, ducking under the police tape to make her way closer.

As you slowly make your way towards the property you pass through the broken fence as it's the only way to get close enough to investigate things. The house is a two story structure that almost looks like a farmhouse. It's large enough to be one of those nice, spacious jobs with no less than four bedrooms. As you get closer you pass a small garage-type building to the left, a house ahead on your left and a larger, barn-like building dead ahead of you.

House: At first glance: All doors and windows have been destroyed. Not just damaged or broken but destroyed. There are only fragments left.

Garage: At first glance: Mostly storage, full of boxes, empty kegs and even an old lawn mower. Its door, mostly intact, was removed and lays in the grass nearby

Barn: At first glance: The doors are also removed and lay in pieces in the grass nearby. From a distance you can see that it was converted from livestock into a make-shift garage with power tools, chain lifts and the like for auto repair and salvage (re: chopshop).

Roxy rolls Perception(4) + Alertness(2) (6 dice) vs 7 for 0 successes.

A house, a garage, a barn.. they all look like they've been bashed around. Taking the largest and most easily accessible option, Roxy makes her way across to the barn, pulling out her flashlight as she goes. A click and the light illuminates the area, the woman guiding the beam around to try and pick out anything of interest.

Roxy rolls Perception(4) + Alertness(2) (6 dice) vs 6 for 3 successes.

You see nothing out of the ordinary as you approach with your flashlight but once you make your way past the automotive stuff - things start feeling different. There's the usual sights and smells of autowork; oil and grease, sweat and ... something else. There's the smell of fresh blood, urine and excrement hang heavy with the faint scent of smoke in the air. You swipe your flashlight one way and then the other and the beam of light wipes across something that you'll never forget.

Bodies. Deeper into the barn, you'll see that there are about a half a dozen bodies hanging upside down in a vague circle from the beam supports. Dressed mostly in sleeping clothes, three women, two young boys in the middle of their teens and an older man with a grey beard sway in an imagined breeze. They've been hung by rope, extension cords, etc. wrapped tight around their bare ankles. At the center of the circle is the remains of a modest-sized fire.

That certainly catches her by surprise, so much so Roxy drops the flashlight at the sight of the bodies, "Woah!", a thump as it hits the floor, the light drifting across the front of the barn as it rolls. Crouching down, she gathers it up again, points the beam again at the bodies and then down to the remains of a fire.

"Vandalized.. uh huh..", a shake of her head. "What happened here..?", she murmurs to herself, taking a few steps closer. Breathing in deep, she gently exhales and allows her body to take in the strong feelings and impressions left behind.

Roxy rolls Perception(4) + Empathy(4) (8 dice) vs 6 for 1 successes.

Roxy rolls 2 (2 dice) vs 6 for 1 successes.

You lose one Willpower

Your mind swims with the emotional residue of what was obviously a traumatic scene. You hear screams of the boys and threats by the women trying to fight off whatever was dragging him in here from the house. The old man tried to fight but it was like a puppy against a tiger. This was -his- damn shop. His damn house and something came in and got them and he was worse than helpless. He was a joke.

Pain. Fear. Confusion. Panic. Terror. They felt the cords going around their bare ankles and felt it bite deep into their legs as they were hauled up into the rafters. Being hauled out of bed, drug across the ground and into the barn by hands as cold as iron as twice as strong wasn't the worst - it was the eyes...the eyes black as midnight, black as pitch. Soulless eyes like a shark.

What was that thing? Where's Billy? Where's the boys? What's happening?

Roxy rolls Willpower(8) (8 dice) vs 7 for 0 successes.

Tracing the steps of one of the women involved, Roxy follows them through a dreamlike haze, her heart racing and the absolute terror biting in her. As the women are bound and pulled up into the air by their legs, so she follows their path. Dizzy from the twisting sensation, she drops to her knees, almost plants her face into the ground as she imagines herself rising.

With a shake of her head, she fights off the worst of it, but the panic still stays, a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that has her retching, tears stinging her eyes and making her vision blurred. The flashlight rolls aside, pointing its beam into the corner of the barn.

Was that movement - just there in the shadows to the right of the shaft of light cast by the flashlight? Crumpled as you are, you're closer to the center of the circle of bodies and to the small fire that was obviously lit recently by the fresh smell of smoke coming from it. The hackles on the back of your neck start to rise as your natural sense of self-preservation starts to kick in to warn you that you're in danger. Is the 'thing' still here? Is there to be a seventh body?

Was that movement? Roxy squeezes her eyes tight then opens them, a hand coming up to wipe away the tears, allowing her to see through the blur at what might have been there. Either way, she knows this feeling, this isn't safe..

Picking up the flashlight and rising to her feet in a swift motion, her other hand grasps tightly onto the crowbar as she quickly starts moving back away from the fire and toward the exit of the barn. "Whatever you are, you stay the hell away from me..", she calls out. She isn't running, she isn't turning her back, the not knowing would cause more panic; it's a cautious but swift retreat.

As you make your way out of the barn and down the drive the sound of...large animals can be heard in the distance. Granted, this is the county and animal sounds are to be expected, but this ain't no coyote. This is like cats and things that hiss and squawk and all manner of sounds that animals -could- naturally make but probably shouldn't as you attempt to teleport yourself back to your bike.

Roxy rolls Dexterity(3) + Drive(2) (5 dice) vs 6 for 3 successes.

Moving backwards until she has the barn, garage and house all within her field of vision, Roxy eventually turns away and starts to jog back toward where she left her bike. As the howls, the hisses and squawks start to increase in volume, so she changes her mind and moves from jogging to straight up sprinting.

Reaching her bike, she puts the flashlight and crowbar into her slingbag, but she's keeping the pistol at hand. Onto the bike, the engine starts immediately with a soft purr, followed by a whine as she pulls hard on the accelerator. The back wheel spins in the dirt, which she uses to twist the bike toward the exit, then the wheels dig in and she speeds off toward the road.

As Roxy hits the gas and heads back to the main road, a large black...let's call it a 'bird' swoops down and almost clips her off the bike. Only her blind luck and a quick recovery keep her moving. Condor? Buzzard? Giant black effin owl-thing? Whatever clipped her raked at her back and talons the size of a bowie knife left their mark in her jacket.

It squawks overhead and swoops down again and only her preternatural sense for danger allowed her to duck at -just- the last moment to avoid getting clipped in the face. By the time she gets onto the main road does she get the speed to out run the sum-bitch.

Thinking she was home free, Roxy quickly steers the bike around, leaning in to the turn to avoid the main damage from the bird, "What the..?", she cries in surprise. The wheels skid briefly as they hit the dirt, but then quickly find the solid road and straighten up before accelerating away.

Another quick turn and a swerve avoids the second strike, then she's on the main road and a few quick gear changes has her moving off at a ridiculous pace. The Yamaha YZF-R1, built for speed and handling, it's breaking the speed limit in a few short seconds.

Returning to the city, she rides up to the Styx & Stones bar, the place where bikers gather; others need to know about this.

It's well into the evening at the Styx and the crowd is pretty normally packed. The regulars are scattered around the room either having somewhat secret meetings, playing some pool or both. A few random bikers have claimed one or both of the back tables - a space generally reserved for them so that they're out of the way but still close to the drinks and to the food.

The hall's crew stay busy by hauling buckets of ice and boxes of beer up from the back getting the bar stocked for the night's business. Seated behind the counter, at the far end so as not to be mistaken as a bartender, a white-haired man sits upon a stool that puts him a head or two taller than the seated patrons. Like a lifeguard looking out over the crowd, he keeps an eye on the comings and goings of the patrons and, more importantly, the many bikers in the back (tm).

The rumble of a motorcycle is heard pulling up outside, nothing unusual for this place, but this isn't a large Harley type so common, but a speedster, a built for the street racing bike. Still, not too uncommon. The engine purrs to a stop then all goes quiet for a few moments out there.

The door opens and Roxy enters the club, her features look pale, like she might have seen a ghost, and there's a scratch straight through the devil drawing on the back of her jacket. She currently has a cellphone to her ear, ".. not my problem if he loses me, I'm not waiting..", a sigh, ".. whatever /Detective/.", the final word spoken with such sarcasm and irony that you can almost taste it.

Hanging up the phone, she switches it off to avoid any further calls, then heads for the bar, slumping herself into her seat. "Danny? Can I get something strong. Jack. Neat. Skip the ice.. and make it a double?"

Danny catches sight of Roxy's arrival and raises an eyebrow at her request. "Uh...sure?" he glances to Dawson who is currently on his phone and sort of lost in the conversation. Danny tried to get his attention but there was no pulling the boss out of whoever he is talking to - so he tosses a bar towel at him after sliding the whiskey to the street doc. "Everything ok?"

Roxy rolls Perception(4) + Artistic Expression(3) (7 dice) vs 7 for 2 successes.

Sumter is already in attendance, nursing a bottle of Corona, when Roxy appears. Her appearance has the big Texan lofting a shaggy gray brow as he pushes off from the bar to stand up straight. "Roxy. Y'all look like you seen a ghost," he says. "Reckon that's why yer hittin' the sauce so hard."

Before she drops her slingbag to the floor at her feet, Roxy pulls out a sketchpad and a set of pencils, placing them on the bar in front of her. With a quick shuffle through the pages, it seems she might need a new one soon, she eventually finds a blank page to work on. "Thanks Danny.", she tells him, gathering up the whiskey and almost downing the contents in one. It hurts though, but perhaps that's the point, a twist of her head and a wince as it burns down her throat. A puff of a breath, gathering in some cooling air, and she places the glass down to one side.

"Oh, hey Sumter.", a glance up at the man as he speaks. "Not a ghost. A ghost would have been better.". Picking a pencil, she starts sketching quickly on the page, the lightness of the shade creating an outline for the rest of the image to fit inside. "Did you hear about those missing bikers?" she asks while drawing.

Sumter frowns a bit, gulping a swallow of his beer. He leans in closer to get a look at Roxy's sketch, but settles back so as not to crowd her. Mention of missing bikers has the big man headtilting curiously. "Missin' bikers? Cain't say as I've heard anything," he says.

Germ has not seen a ghost. He just comes in, hard swampy-green eyes gazing up and narrow, posture kind of crappy. Beat-up steel toes take him to the bar, where he hops into a seat.

Danny clears away some space to let Roxy do...whatever itis that she's doing and Dawson finishes up his phone call and stands with a shit-eating grin on his face. He saunters up to the bar from his perch and leans forward to take a chill-full stance near Sumter. "S'up?" he asks of anyone who wishes to answer. Germ's given a glance and a quick, if friendly, nod.

The pencils start to change quickly from one to another, each one a deeper shade to create a more rounded, realistic image. "Have you been sleeping under a rock?", Roxy asks of Sumter, glancing up at him, "The bikers out of Chula Vista. The whole pack rode out against someone and vanished, then their land was hit, like a tornado went through there, all the windows broken, furniture thrown around.. you've never heard this?", a shake of her head.

The image begins to take shape. It looks human in shape, but its features are all wrong; similar, but inhuman all the same. The pencil shades become darker as she focuses on the eyes, staring down at the image as she adds more and more detail, so much detail on the eyes that it starts to break through the paper.

Roxy rolls Willpower(8) (8 dice) vs 6 for 1 successes.

Wes walks into the bar, making his way with purpose TOWARDS the bar.

Dawson pages: As you continue to draw the face, the fear from that moment - those memories that you picked upon -tries- to crawl up from your gut once more but you're able to stuff it back down and continue.

Germ lifts a pair of stubby fingers at Dawson, before ordering a basket of chicken from the barman. Drink, too, but it's never anything that'll get him tipsy, sugar and grease his drug of choice over alcohol. But, of course, most of his attention is on Roxy.

"Getting bitch-smacked by the muse of creation there doc?" Dawson asks and tries to twist his head a little to see whatever it is that the woman's trying to draw so frantically.

Call it luck, call it kismet - call it what you will, but the weft of Wes's weird threads of being called him to the bar just as Roxy was scribbling the pell-mell illustration on the page. He'll peer over her shoulder without a so much as a by-your-leave. "Hnh." Short on bedside manner, Wes was.

Sumter frowns a bit. "No, I ain't heard nuthin'," he says. "I been keepin' an eye on things here. Ain't been goin' too far afield out o' Harbinger claim." He looks up at Dawson, reaching out to clap the younger man on the shoulder. "Howdy, chief. Yer lookin' mighty pleased with yerself."

Almost through the page, Roxy seems to get exactly the right shade she was aiming for and suddenly sucks in a breath, curling up slightly as if she'd been punched in the stomach, her eyes closing for a moment while she catches some air. Not wanting to look at it again, she spins the pad around so it's facing Dawson and Sumter, nudging it toward them, "Have you ever seen something like that?"

The appearance of a Wesley at her side has her glancing back, first at the man, then the obviously holstered pistol, "Oh great..", she mutters, shaking her head and turning her attention back to those at the bar, ".. this is suddenly not the best place to talk."

Roxy rolls Perception(4) + Empathy(4) (8 dice) vs 6 for 1 successes.

Dawson pages: dawson tried to hide his reaction but not so well that you didn't see his eyes flash in alarm.

Germ has a similar reaction to Roxy, eyes further narrowing as Wes just moves in to get in the street doctor's business. His hand reaches into his pocket, but it's just a credit card he pulls out, white with red tear-drop shapes printed on it. It's left on the bar for Danny to collect.

The white-haired boss looks down at the sketch now that he can see the image more clearly and blinks in confused curiosity. Turning his attention from the page to Sumter and back he swallows dryly and answers with an enigmatic tone, "Looks like something out of a nightmare."

Wes offers a reply to Roxy's remarks. "Not quite like that, but ... close enough. And this is the greatest place to talk - 'm freelance and on Dawson's tab."

(In the Shadowlands) G18 walks in looking around. He is silent and stands at the entrance for a long moment. As still as a statue.

About to look at Wesley again, while her head is turning Roxy seems to pick up something about Dawson's reaction, stopping to gaze at him curiously for a second before continuing on to Wesley. "Alright..", she says quietly, waiting for him to join them at the bar before going on.

"I took a ride down there. Just to take a look, call me curious.", she shrugs; there's more to it than that, but she isn't telling. "That wasn't vandalism, there were bodies still strung up in the barn and..", a point at the sketch, but she's not looking at it, ".. that thing.". Relaxing slightly, she reaches behind her at her jacket, feeling for the damage done, a large scar straight across - cut through like a hot knife through butter - "And a huge bird.."

A pager goes off at Wes's hip. WHAT? A pager? Who has a pager these days? Is it 1989?! No, its 2019, but Wes is valiantly struggling against time! "'m looking into it," he mutters. "Let's sit down for a more detailed debrief soon. Here, or somewhere else. DOn't matter to me."

And with that, Wes excuses himself to find a payphone so he can answer his pager. A pager, sheesh!

Sumter looks over the drawing Roxy made, rubbing his beard. "Cain't say's I've ever seen a critter like that," he says, looking up to Dawson.

Not one to get swept up by the emotional spark that starts the fire, Dawson folds his arms over his chest and tries to play the skeptic. "A bird...did that?" he points to the slashes across the woman's jacket. "I'm not from the area but is there anything like....uh...-that- big out there?" He's trying to stay open-minded but he's got a lot of questions and there's not too many answers going around.

"What do you mean you saw...that face? Like a dude wearing a mask or something?" Because inhuman faces just don't show up in California without special make up and a HUGE digital effects budget. "Why did you go down there yourself? I mean...did you know any of them?"

(In the Shadowlands) G18 steps forward to the bar, concentrating on something for a moment. As he does, a chill fills the air. Making it possible to see your breath. He doesnt5 say anything, just looks around at those present.

"Was it missing a bunch of feathers?" Germ asks, and when his food arrives, he rips a piece of meat from the tenders, as though saying 'that's what I think about birds.' Then he's breathing out frosted air like a stocky, green-haired dragon.

"You remember what I was telling you about the Legion?", Roxy says to Dawson, the woman placing her pencils back into the set, keeping her attention anywhere but the sketchpad, "It reminded me of that. I wondered if they were involved or..", letting her reason fade out with a gentle shrug.

Looking at the others at the bar for a moment, she inhales, breathes out slowly which immediately turns to mist as a chill fills the air. A shiver runs through her briefly; this is one weird night. "I have this.. gift. I can pick up images, feelings, that sort of thing. I saw that..", another point in the direction of the image, ".. dragging them all out to the barn, stringing them up.", a shake of her head, they don't have to believe her, she knows what she knows. "It was still there, I'm sure of it.".

"And it was a /really/ big bird, like a vulture or something.".

Sumter can't help but shiver, peering as his breath starts misting visibly. "Whut the -hell-...?" He looks up and around, then back to Dawson, his expression furrowed. "Did it git cold in here?" Of course the man from Texas would be sensitive to cold.

(Shadowlands) G18 seems to fade out into nothingness...

And now Dawson tries to go into damage-control mode and starts sounding all big-brotherish, "Ok ok...let's get some hot coffee and food into you," He starts and looks around the room to see how many people might have heard Roxy's -wild- and alcohol-fueled hallucinations. Because what -else- could they be, right? "How about you go crash out on the couch for a while, eh doc?"

Looking to Sumter, he asks if his biker brother would be so kind as to escort her down to the break room in the basement while he gets Tommy to whip her up something.

Reaching down, Roxy gathers up her slingbag and is moving before any escort, grabbing the sketchpad on the way past and pushing it into the bag out of sight. "The couch sounds great..", she admits, starting to pace through the club toward the back room door. "A gift..", she mutters to herself, ".. more like a curse."

Germ reaches into his pocket for a pill bottle. Downs one with his coke, wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and then his breathing returns to normal. How odd.