Call of C'Handler -

[Quote Me Now]

So, for a few days now I've been organizing another role playing game to carry on from the successful Don't Zap to the Extreme thread in the Sonichu forum! After discussing with my players, we decided it was more appropriate to put the thread here so I didn't start turning the Sonichu subforum into my personal RPG blog.

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Call of C'Handler, a play-by-post horror RPG based off of Call of C'Thulhu in which you get to hear my sexy British accent! I will be posting voice-acted renditions of important exchanges and conversations courtesy of my cabal of people with nothing better to do with their time.

Cast

Hunger Mythos as: November

A disturbed young woman who acts quite like a dog, November is sure to be an asset to our group!

Randall Fragg as: Tyce Pierce

Yes, that Tyce. The most realistic paranormal investigator ever, he thinks C'Thulhu is gay and unrealistic!

Pine Tar as: Stephane Moreno

Ex-Editor of the Quickville News Dash, he was let go after a particularly disturbing bout of sudden madness causing him to insist that creatures called "Sonees" and "Rosees" are real, and running around the city right now. Ridiculous...right?

Konstantinos as: Louis Toadvine

A tough, grizzled veteran of Quickville's past, Louis has seen the worst of times under the Mayor. Unlike the rest of the population, he's chosen not to forget...

Setting

The game is set in the modern city of Quickville, a nice town with an average number of cool places to hang out at. It is a city in recovery, having just recently been released from the grip of a tyrant known only as The Mayor. Nobody knows what happened to him - Just that one day, he stopped his proclamations. His police forces simply disappeared. The people were free to live their lives, and they've been living them as best they could ever since.

There's just one problem. Everyone has the same recurring nightmares, sometimes. They dream of horrible, neon colored creatures under the command of the Mayor. They see the horrors visited on them and others. It feels so real...but it can't be, right? Nothing that insane could exist. Not in reality. They must simply be fabricating horrors from their own mind.

Or maybe, they're just choosing not to see?

Opening

Mr. Comic paced back and forth in his portakabin. It had been three days since the police investigation, useless as it had been, and three days since he placed a confidential advert in the Quickville News Dash. "Private Investigators wanted for high-profile job. Details on application."

It was a rubbish advert. No wonder nobody had responded, it was far too vague, but what else could he put? If word of this got out, Gymbal & Grisby construction would be finished - And Comic didn't want to see Mr. Grisby angry after the last time. Besides, news travels fast to the boss when his son's the foreman.

As Mr. Comic set to work wearing a hole into his Kabin's floor, he heard a ruckus from outside his door. Through the portakabin's entrance burst the four strangest people he'd ever seen - And they all seemed to be arguing with each other.

Trying to remain as calm as he could, Mr. Comic prepared to brief these four strange individuals on what exactly he wanted them to do.

http://vocaroo.com/i/s1dszyq7Dgxb

What do you all do?

Now would be a good time to introduce yourselves, players! Who are you, and why on Earth are you arguing with the others?

 

[Pine Tar]

Hello, my name is Stephane Moreno and I'm desperately looking for work to pay off my debt to my friend. I'm arguing with Tyce because he thought it would be a good idea to try offering Jenkem to me and I told him to go fuck himself. Louis then tried to go after November for stealing his medallions and Tyce for being a total waste of oxygen. I try to keep the peace as best I can, but.....I know way too much about this place. I can see Sonees everywhere. And, my kukri is lusting for blood. I don't know how long I can maintain. Or, if I can truly maintain anything at all.

 

[Randall Fragg]

Tyce strolls into the office and instructs his goons to stay outside. One of them, Nick, has a fresh, ugly wound across his neck.
"Dude, chill out. I was like, tryin to be nice tah yah."
Tyce turns to Mr. Comic.
"So, you the guy who put the AD thing out? Me and my crew are looking for a job, on account of Nick getting his neck fucked up and us needing to pay Kyle fer healin him up. So, what's the job?"

 

[Konstantinos]

Great to see the thread is up and running! Can't wait to get started on this! Something I should clarify beforehand for any non-players is that 1) any descriptions of my actions in-game are highlighted in italics and 2) I try to use very little punctuation (IE, quotation marks, commas, etc) when writing.

Anyhow, I shall introduce my character.​

"The man with the long black hair stood defiantly on the office floor. He looked ahead silently. His glare was as indomitable as it was full of malice and spite. He exchanged hostile glances with the dog-like woman that was now his accomplice but the night before had been his foe.

The man wore a grim leather duster. Around his neck hung several crudely-fashioned medallions bearing the faces of creatures he referred to as chus. He claimed that the feint spots of blood that adorned the grisly trophies came from the chus that had owned them. The man's face was adorned with scars of battles long past. His hair fell to either side of his head but it failed to conceal the fact that he had no ears. On his forehead the letters CWC were branded. They served as a reminder of a time that only he remembered.

He had served in many trades before. All of them had dealt in blood. He had been at numerous intervals a bounty hunter, a robber, a bodyguard, a smuggler, a jerkop for hire and a chu hunter. Mention of these last two trades frequently caused confusion among those he spoke with. Above all else though, he was a desperado, a remnant of a time that had since been erased from modern memory."

---​

"The foreman asked for the man's name. The man walked forward. He ignored the shrill yipping of the dog-like woman of whom he had previously fought with. He ignored the boisterous taunts that were excreted from the junkie's mouth.

Toadvine, the man said. The name's Louis Toadvine. The foreman was visibly unsettled by the appearance of the rough man before him. I've come for the case. I brought my own tools. At this Toadvine opened his duster and gestured to the Bowie knife and the heavy cavalry revolver attached to his belt. The color drained from the foreman's face. Toadvine stepped back and awaited further instructions from the foreman."

 

[Randall Fragg]

Prologue (the role playing we did in the private messages):

Pine Tar's character:
"This is a sort of WIP but I came up with a character.

Name: Stephane Moreno
Age: 22
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 220 lbs.
Occupation: Writer/Wannabe Resistance Fighter
Weapon: Kukri, Colt Python
Bio: He came to CWCville because he wanted to join the PVCC after hearing of their exploits against Mayor Chandler. However, by the time he managed to move to CWCville, the resistance was crushed and Mary Lee Walsh was imprisoned. He was an editor at the CWCville News Dash until he got fired for recommending genocide to cure the overpopulation of Sonees and Roseys. Now, he lives with his best friend, Robert Atkinson who's patience with Stephane's mooching is running very short. But, one day, after hearing reports of construction workers being murdered, he feels that it's his time to truly shine in CWCville. After all, with an experience like this, he'll write a best seller for sure!

Konstantinos Character:
"Alright, I present to you my character, Louis Toadvine.

"Toadvine had seen the best and worst of times. A drifter by nature, he was a man of many trades, most of which dealt in blood. He had intermittently been a gun for hire, a desperado, a sonichu hunter, a smuggler and a jerkop at numerous points in his life. He has a cynical and overtly hostile demeanor, no doubt a result of his accumulated misdeeds weighing heavily on his conscience.

Around his neck he wears a necklace. On it there are blood-stained medallions bearing the faces of the hedgehog pokemon they belonged to. His face bares the scars of conflicts long past. His eyes are azure and deep and permanently adhered in a hostile glare, as would be the case for a man of his nature. Long black hair hangs off his head. It scarcely conceals his lack of ears. On his forehead, the initials "CWC" are branded. He carries with him a deep resentment for the man who disfigured him.

He takes up the contract for the investigation for reasons he is not totally sure of. He has known murder all his life and he supposes that the case suits him. He packs a revolver, a heavy cavalry pistol he has used to end the lives of men and hedgehog pokemon alike. He also packs a bowie knife, because it is oft utilized in his lines of work, and a flask, as his pastime lies in drink. He does not know what awaits him and his companions in the construction site. A sense of dread settles on him."
Perceptive readers will notice my character is barley original. Then again, this is set in the Sonichuuniverse so its not like anything is going to that original to begin with, right?

Randall Fragg's character:
"Okay, Tyce Pierce. Basically Tyce. Wears a dirty purple shirt, jorts, and a stupid beanie. Constantly wears sunglasses and a Shrek fannypack, where he stores his weed, pills, baseball cards, and extra matchbox cars. Owner of the Tycemobile, a grape purple minivan with a skeleton decal on the hood (yes, that skeleton). Has a Jenkim farm in his hide out. Also, has a gang consisting of him, Bryan, Elbert, and Big Jim, his idiotic gang of stoner nazis."

Hunger Mythos's Character:
"The streets of CWCville were home to the twenty-four-year-old woman with the nimble fingers and a knack for breaking and entering homes, nabbing what she could and selling them in the underground blackmarket to make a living. November had been her name, having forgot about her true name long ago. The young woman adorns herself in comfortable clothes, preferably loose sweaters to conceal her actual gear beneath, with fur lined winter boots and a black wool knitted hat upon her head.

Upon losing her actual name, she lost her sense of humanity. This doesn't mean she can't function in society, in fact November has adjusted quite well. She simply has taken on the belief that she is not human, also known as an otherkin. Being an otherkin means she is does not identify as a human. In fact to embrace her "true" identity, November wears a fawn coloured dog tail with a white tip that hangs off the belt of her faded blue skinny jeans. Around her neck is a pink leather collar with a heart-shaped name tag. Identifying as a Pembroke Welsh corgi, November does what she can to embrace her newfound lifestyle.

Having not only lost her humanity, she also lost her right eye in the incident that took place several years ago and so she wears an eyepatch to conceal it. No-one knows the true story that took place all those years ago since she makes up a story every time someone asks. Personally, November has no interest in pursuing her previous life, especially since she has adapted well to her new lifestyle so she has never batted an eye at the thought.

November is well equipped for creeping through the shadows being the sneak thief that she is, getting down and dirty, and doing whatever needs to be done to get any goods she can get her hands on. Such a life style can be dangerous, especially in such a town like CWCville, November has a colt single action revolver holstered to her belt hidden beneath her cozy deer printed sweater that looks too big on her quaint body. The gun has scarcely seen action, since November isn't one for conflict and she prefers to use her two combat knives. Within the dull green messenger bag slung over her shoulder like a purse is where her thief’s tools are hidden away, beneath other odds and ends.

Battered and rugged, November's short cut brown hair rustles in the breeze as she skulks through the streets with a glint in her single hazel eye, thinking over the job offer she recently read about for some sort of investigation. Such a situation would be rewarding, filling the young woman with glee as she strode down the sidewalk. Of course, hiring a criminal, such as her, was a farfetched as all get, so she scoffed with a roll of her eyes at the thought as she took a swig of whiskey from the flask in her hand, chuckling internally."

Quote Me Now: "So, how do you very different people know each other? Friends from Date Ed, perhaps? And why are you responding to this very, very odd advert calling for private investigators (Experience not required)?"

Pine Tar:
"I meet Louis at a dive bar while trying to come up with ideas for a novel I've been working on. I see his demeanor, his bloody medallion collection and his lack of saying much of anything, so naturally, I decided that this is an individual who I want to base a character off of.

I try to talk to him, but he grunts and tries to avoid me. I keep trying to get his attention until Robert finds me and starts yelling at me about the rent. Whatever, with this novel I'll write, I'll pay him back and then some."

RF: "Everyone knows Tyce because he's the weird guy who drags around a wagon full of hot wheels and sets trashcans on fire. He's investigating because, like, he could totally be a detective. Like, this is probably a gay black conspiracy."

Konstantinos: ""Toadvine sat drinking his whiskey at the bar, alone. He turned to observe the eager youth with whom he had just spoken with. The youth was now speaking with another patron of the bar about rent.

The youth had been somewhat grating in his insistence on conversing. He spoke of writing, a skill Toadvine had had little use for over the course of his life. However, Toadvine found the youth's dialogue to have a quality of earnestness to it. It reflected a sense of innocence, something Toadvine wished he still possessed.

Toadvine exhaled resignedly and stood up. The grotesque scapular around his neck swung lazily. The medallions clacked against one another like a grisly Newton's cradle. Bartender, he said. I'd like another two whiskeys. One for me and one for the youth over there. He stood and observed the youth, his menacing glare softened somewhat.

The door to the bar swung open. Standing there was a local junkie, his sunglasses failing to conceal the emptiness in his eyes. His clothing was thin and ragged. He gave off an odor of excrement and ganja, which he undoubtably smoked with frequency. A wretched beard was attached to his jaw and a ridiculous hat had been placed upon his head. Many of the bar's patrons had turned to gaze upon the loathsome addict.

The junkie stood before them awkwardly. His stench permeated the air and could be smelt from several meters away. Toadvine had seen him around town. He did not take kindly to the junkie's insolence. Toadvine's face grew dour once more."

RF:
"Yo, whyzat so kwaite in this pad? LETS SOME ACTION GOIN KAUS TYCE IS IN DA HOUSE BITCHES!"
The illiterate sped stumbled across the bar to the juke box.
"Wait, what the fuck is an AC/DC? That sounds fuckin gay as hell bro. Whys this song called "Hotel California?" What is this fag hipster shit? Where the fuck is ICP?"
Disappointed, Tyce takes a partly filled balloon out of his fanny pack, sticks a needle in it, and quickly inhales the gas inside it. He walks over to the bar and, much to his horror, Toadvine.
"Hey dude, you got some fucking awesome bling there" Tyce belted at Toadvine. Toadvine was sure he could smell farts and decaying shit on the idiots breath.
"Yo, BarFag, could you get me a Tyce Pussytail? Yah put some Doritos, Gamerfuel, and vodka in a blender!"

Pine Tar:
I try to keep talking to Louis, but the combination of the loud filthy junkie and my friend yelling at me about rent and not getting the stains out of his couch distract me. Eventually, I start jotting down what I'm seeing as the atmosphere in the bar is much more entertaining than this one......interesting individual. Sure, I'll talk to him later, but I'll have to talk to this newcomer too.

After 15 minutes of berating me, Robert leaves. I call out to this junkie. "Hey! Would you quiet down over there, I'm trying to drink, I mean, think!"

RF: Tyce turns and stairs at the man."Dude, what that fuck? Do you know who the I am? Let me clue you in faggot. I'm the Prankmaster. I'm the Tycenado!"
Tyce pulls out a small bottle with some brown liquid in it, opens it, inhales the poop fumes, and throws it one the ground. He then flips over a table and gives the finger to a random bar patron.
"Tycenado bitch! You just got prannnkeed!"
Tyce pulls a hot wheels car out of his Shrek fanny pack and proceeds to run around the bar, "driving" the toy on the walls and making "vroom-vroom" noises.

Konstantinos: "Toadvine looked over the wretched junkie that had just now slithered up to the bar. He said something to Toadvine but his words are slurred and disjointed. His speech more closely resembled that of an animal than a human being. Toadvine contemplates going for his knife but he tries to ignore the cretin instead. The smell emanating from the junkie was violently offensive to all in his vicinity.

The Barkeep conjures the two whiskeys. Toadvine handed one to the youth. He received it graciously and tried to initiate conversation again but to no avail. The junkie's hollering made talking difficult.

Toadvine sat and drank. The junkie was drinking some foul concoction of crisps and vodka. Toadvine drank some more. The junkie's incessant shouting gradually became quieter.

Chaos suddenly developed on the bar floor. The junkie was shouting at the youth. The junkie was flipping tables over and causing hubris. The junkie threw a bottle to the floor from which a brown liquid emerged. Drops of the foul liquid landed on Toadvine's duster.

Rage shot through Toadvine. He grabbed his bowie knife and rose from his stool. He approached the junkie from behind before grabbing him and throwing him against the floor. Toadvine put the blade to the junkie's throat. What the hell's your problem, Toadvine shouted in the terrified junkie's face. We're tryin' to have a drink and you have to come and ruin it with your foolishness."

RF: "Aaaaaauuuuuggghhh WHAT THE HELL MAN!? What did I ever do! Come on, yer ruining my bling dude, and.....OH SHIT that's a knife!" Pulling a knife on someone's a good prank."
Suddenly, the air fills with a horrific stench, the type of smell made by only one thing: a bowl movement from a man who's diet consists of nothing but Doritos, sour patch kids, Mountain Dew, Gamerfuel, and copious amounts of chemicals never intended to be consumed by man. Toadvine recoils in horror at the miasma of Tyce-dung, and Tyce seizes this opportunity to run for the door, leaving a trail of Gamersludge behind him.
"But this pranks better! TYCED!"
The junkie exits the bar and calls to his friends in the grape purple minivan with a skeleton painted on the hood.
"Homies, get the Tycemobile ready"
The Tycemobile wheezes into life as Tyce sits in his commanding seat with an audible *squish*.
Tyce and his gang take off.

Konstantinos:
"The junkies excrement sat on the floor. The smell was rank and it caused Toadvine to become deeply nauseous. He ran for the door and caught a glimpse of the junkie escaping in his decrepit van. Toadvine emptied his paunch. He gave off a few wheezing coughs before returning to the tavern.

Toadvine weakly glared at his whiskey. He could not bring himself to ingest anymore after that ordeal with the junkie. He sat himself down by the youth. The youth appeared to have been shaken by the junkie's antics but he was otherwise fine.

So, Toadvine inquired. Been meaning to talk to ya. What's your story kid? The youth spoke of his past. Toadvine listened. They soon found themselves exchanging stories of their past exploits and laughing heartily as though they had been old friends. The youth told Toadvine of his plan to deplete the population of young sonichus in the city. Toadvine found a great sense of mirth in this for he too hated the grotesque children that remained all too populous in CWCville.

The youth noted a job he had recently signed up for. It dawned on Toadvine that both he and the youth had taken the same investigation case. The two laughed at this happy coincidence. Toadvine rose to leave for it was late and he was still mildly intoxicated. He bid the youth farewell and left the bar.

Toadvine approached the field upon which he camped for his lifestyle was nomadic in nature and demanded that he always be on the move. He set his necklace aside but he kept his revolver at his breast. He laid upon his bed mat and gazed up at the stars as he had done many times before.

There was a rustling among the wild grass. Toadvine's eyes shot open. Soon there was a delicate shuffling sound, as though someone were running his hands through his possessions. He clutched his revolver. Silence permeated the air. The deep darkness that enshrouded the encampment was penetrated only by the stars.

A great calamity of \M/ETAL tins and leather saddlebags banging against one another suddenly erupted. Toadvine rose up and took aim at the figure fleeing from him. A shot rang out. Then another. The form stumbled awkwardly and hit the ground, the stolen gear clattering against the soil.

Toadvine crouched and waited. His long black hair was haphazardly draped over his face and temples. He slowly approached where the thief had fallen. Without warning a brief flash illuminated the thief and a gunshot filled the air. Toadvine hit the dirt. Smoke rose from the thief's position. The thief rose up and began to flee the field.

By the time Toadvine had crawled to his gear the thief was long gone. Whoever it had been had decided to abandon the gear in favor of escaping with his life. Confoundingly, there was no blood but rather a mass of what appeared to be fur and wool. Something was missing from Toadvine's gear though. It dawned on Toadvine that his trophies were gone. The thief had taken his medallions."

 

[Dollars2010]

ooc: The devious little, one-eyed dog woman reporting for action.

---

A scowl plastered on November’s face as her single eye narrowed upon the man who called himself Toadvine. Bruises had blossomed on her fair skin from last night’s encounter with the man, causing her hands to clench into tight balls, shading her knuckles white, as the urge to snap rose within her. The site of him lit the flare of hostile within her. She could care less about the others. It was him that she had a bone to pick with. A low growl managed to bubble from the depths of her throat, before her hazel eyes immediately shifted to Mr. Comic upon the mention of pay.

Her ears seemed to perk at that word, her hips shifting so her faux tail wagged with the motion. A spark shown in November’s eye as she yapped out, “I’d be more than delighted, Mr. Comic. My name’s November and I’ll have you know that I’m more than suited for the task at hand.” She grinned a mischievous grin, flashing her teeth. “I’ll be sure that the job gets done…one way or another, eheh.” The chuckle rolled off of her tongue as she perked up an elegant brow.

Her left hand fiddled with the heart-shaped nametag that dangled from the collar around her neck, her nimble hands eager for action. The ad was so curious, so very curious, and the dogkin couldn’t help but to run a number of obscure scenarios through her head, upping her levels of excitement all the more.

 

[Randall Fragg]

Part 2 of the prologue:

Spoiler: Pine Tar

After talking to the man with the medallions, I exit the bar and start walking to Robert's house. Along with this investigation job and my progression on my novel, I feel confident enough to face Robert. He's still my friend, but things have been tense. Without a job, I've been unable to pay rent and going to the bar is my only means of escape. He's angry because he has to take a second job due to my lack of one. He tells me that I shouldn't have written down that killing all Sonees and Roseys was the way to solve the infestation, but I really didn't see any other way. Because I got fired, I was blacklisted from every publication in Quickville. The only things that were keeping me sane were taking the occasional blogging job, drinking and staining Robert's couch with my girlfriend.

Of course, it's not what you think. You see, she finds feral Sonees and Roseys and well, they burst like water balloons when you stab them or crush them. It's the one thing that still brings me joy in life.

As I enter Robert's house, I find that he is gone to my great relief. He must've gone to his second job. I crash onto my bed and hope that tomorrow is the beginning of a glorious chapter in my life.

Spoiler: Randall Fragg

Okay, I completed Tyce's character sheet
.Tyce.pdf

As for what Tyce and his goons are up too...
"Tyce, Big Jim, Derrick, and Nick are back at their hide out, an abandoned store in one of Quickville's seedier districts. They're huffing an assortment of chemicals and playing sonnie baseball.
"Hey, Big Jim, toss another one rat over here!"
Big Jim, an obese shaved gorilla wearing a black t-shirt and jorts, grabs a sonnie and hurls it at Tyce, who smashes it in the face with a baseball bat.
"Tehhhah, that was chill dude."
Tyce takes another huff of Jenkim and throws the bottle to Derrick, the groups mechanic. Derrick fumbles with it, causing the plastic "Hangmann" bling around his neck to thump against his greasy white shirt and jeans. Nick, a skinny, nearly bald 18 year old with a face like a shark with FAS, pipes up.
"Yo, faggots, didn't we have, like something to do?"
Tyce looks at Nick and thinks. After a momentous effort, Tyce suddenly remembers.
"Ahh, shit dude, I just remembered, we're supposed to meet those faggots from high school and sell them shit. Yeah, we were, like, going to sell them a shitton of oregano and claim that's it's weed, because easy money dudes."
The four of them grab their drugs, fake drugs, and weapons, and hop in the Tycemobile.

Several hours later and near the outskirts of the city, the van barrels down the road, all inhabitants blazed to various degrees. The deal had gone off without a hitch, and Tyce's crew was now $300 dollars richer. The van comes to a stop sign, where Nick takes the opportunity to puke out the window. As he does, the goons hear several gunshots coming from a nearby field.
"Dude, did you hear that?"
"Of course I fucking did Derrick, you faggot. Dude, what if it's the race war? We should, like, go check it out and take out any niggos."
Tyce drives into the field, and begins searching for any tangos.
"Yo, anyone here?"

Spoiler: Hunger Mythos

A gunshot had rung out, echoing throughout the night air, causing November to choke on the swig of whiskey she took. Coughing and gagging, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and glowered in the direction of the field she was passing by; narrowing her single eye in speculation until a vehicle came rushing past. She leapt aside with a growl, taking refuge within the tall grasses, concealing herself from sight as the purple van cruised by. Whatever was happening, it seemed like a big ordeal.

Curiosity ate away at November. She simply couldn’t pass up this chance and it made it hard to resist following after them and prowling closer towards the gunshot. Perhaps this would offer her an opportunity to obtain some rewards. A cheeky smirk etched itself upon the one-eyed woman lips as voices entered her eyes as she neared the spot.

There was that van again. Her eyes narrowed upon it, her hand hovering over one of her combat knives as she watched the group of individuals, keeping crouched out of wariness. Acting like a predator stalking its prey, November crept near. She wondered if they had anything worth of value on them. From the sounds of it, they sounded like a bunch of rowdy kids. There were plenty of those in CWCville and they made an easy target for November.

Spoiler: Randall Fragg

"Hey look, another one of those rat things."
Tyce flips over a rusting sheet of corrugated tin and grabs a squealing sonnie. Using some duck tape from his fanny pack, he ties the creature to the van's antenna.
"Heh, sick dude."
Big Jim looks around.
"Yo, like, this don't feel right yo. I feel like someone's watching me."
Big Jim hoists his BAR out of the van.
Tyce loads the "Tycenator" a sawn off shotgun, and sticks a Glock in his front waistband, precariously close to his junk.
"Like, I hear ya, like, know what I mean. There's probably, like, some faggots out here like, holding people hostage. If we got, like, surprised them, that would be bad."
Tyce and his gang begin to search the area.
"Yo, come on out man, we won't hurt yah".

Spoiler: Konstantinos

"A van pulled up on to the field. It was the same van the junkie had escaped in earlier. The junkie and his comrades began to emerge from the repulsive vehicle. Toadvine laid prone and observed the fools congregating. He heard a squealing noise, a lone Sonee suffering at the hands of the junkie perhaps. He would have criticized the fools for their sadism but he was a violent man himself. The fools spread out, shouting obscenities and idle threats.

A fat-necked cretin approached Toadvine's position. The black shirt he wore made him stand out amid the darkness. In the waist band of his jorts there was a pistol of some description. In his hands he held a crude club fashioned from a bat. Toadvine reached for his knife. The cretin was not aware of his presence.

Yo, there any niggos round 'ere, the cretin called out. Come out now and maybe we'll go easy on ya. Toadvine waited in silence. The cretin walked past Toadvine. When the cretin's back was turned Toadvine cautiously stood up. The grass around him rustled as he moved, catching the cretin's attention. As the cretin turned his head, Toadvine lunged at him, Bowie knife in hand. The cretin was on his back in a matter of moments. He managed to emit a pained grunt before Toadvine slashed his neck.

Dark arterial blood shot out of the wound. The commotion had caused a great calamity and soon the fools were drawn to the location of the dying man. Toadvine fled the field, gear in hand. The fools cried out in a mix of distress and anger upon seeing their fallen comrade. They shouted bombasctic threats into the night that would never be realistically acted upon."
---
"Toadvine wheezed raggedly as he ran with his gear in his pack. He suspected the junkie and his comrades would soon be on his trail. He was nearing the sidewalk. By the time he saw the figure crouched in the grass it was too late to stop. The two collided and Toadvine went careening into the dirt.

Toadvine postured himself and readied his armaments. The figure he had collided with was a woman, adorned in a curious sweater. She had been carrying a backpack full of opulent jewelry and riches, which now lay strewn on the ground. On her back Toadvine saw what appeared to be tufts of fur. His bewilderment turned to rage.

You, Toadvine growled trying not to raise his voice. You're the one I caught tryin' to steal my things. Give me my goddamn medallions back or ah'll gut you. He reached for his Bowie knife. As he did this, the woman reached for a menacing knife of her own. The two tensely stood opposite of one another, knives in hand. The fools could be faintly heard in the distance."

Spoiler: Hunger Mythos

With a snarl and a flash of her teeth, November took on a defensive stance as she held the knife in a tight clutch, her eye locked on the rugged looking man with long black hair and a hefty amount of gear. His appearance was curious to the young woman, but not enough for her to back down.

Her nose wrinkled like that of a snarling dog as her brow furrowed, a low growl escaping the depths of her throat. “Finder’s keepers,” November grumbled, deepening her usual light voice into something husky to appear more intimidating. “Such goodies will sell for a high price! Worry not though; I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.” A Cheshire grin played on her lips as she barked out a laugh. She swayed her hips, wagging her faux tail to imitate an excited dog.

As a rustling emanated from the tall grass next to her, November twisted in a swift motion, her knife piercing one of those diabolical rodent creatures as it emerged. The blade embedded into the Sonee’s neck, making it squeal out of astonishment strung with pain, gurgling from the deep wound. This made the one-eyed woman sneer as she retracted her knife, letting the thing writhe on the ground, and turn to face the man once more with a flicker in her eye.

“Disgusting beasts, eh?” she growled under her breath, passing goods strewn long the street a quick glance. The urge to go to them was strong in her, making her free hand twitch.

Spoiler: Randall Fragg

"Aww shit man ah shit ah shit ah shit ah shit!"
The Tycemobile sped away from the crime scene, with a severely injured Nick in the back. Big Jim was holding his shirt around Nick's neck, while Derrick gave frantic intructions.
"Okay man, you need to apply pressure to the wound to slow the bleeding. And keep his head up!"
Tyce frantically speeds down the highway, then makes a sharp turn into a residential neighborhood.
"Dude, keep him alive until we can get to Kyle!"
A man in a blue hoodie sits and smokes a joint on the front porch of a suburban house. Suddenly, a grape purple minivan swerves on to his lawn and knocks over his mailbox. Tyce stumbles out.
The hoodie man sighs, and in a deep, raspy voice says "Damnit Tyce, you keep knocking over my mailbox. You here for weed, weapons, or..."
Derrick and Big Jim exit the van, carrying a bloody Nick.
"Or other. Alright, looks like you came to the right place. Please step into the office of Dr. Kyle."
The group hurries into the basement, where "Dr." Kyle has a crude medical room set up. Nick is flopped down on a dirty white slab, while Kyle takes another puff of weed and goes to work.
"Okay, so, like, his right throat blood tubes all fucked up, but the wound doesn't look like it broke his wind tube. So, like, he doesn't have a lot of blood left, so the universe is telling me that he should have a blood transfusion. Do any of you know his blood type?"
The group stares blankly. "Dude, there are types of blood?" inquires Tyce.
Kyle opens a nearby mini-fridge and shuffles through it.
"Ahh shit man, I was gonna label these but I forgot. So like, I'm just gonna wing it."
Kyle grabs a random blood pack, hooks it up to an IV tube, and shoves it into Nick's arm.
Kyle then grabs a plastic straw from a dry McDonalds soda cup and shoves it into Nick's mouth.
"Okay, Big Jim, I need yah tah blow inta this thing at give air to his lungs".
While Big Jim complies (and begins to doubt Kyle's medical training),
Kyle sprays some anti-septic on Nick's wounds. He then examines the cut artery.
"Shit man, like, he's still bleeding out of the blood tube. Like, I'm gonna have tah cauterize it."
Kyle grabs a sparkler out of the terra-cotta flowerpot he keeps his medical instruments in, lights it with his joint, pinches the artery together, and holds the sparkler near it.
When he's done with that, he douses some fishing line with rubbing alcohol, threads it through a needle, and sews up the rest of the wound. Nick's life is now in Dr Kyle's (perpetually stoned) hands.

Spoiler: Pine Tar

I wake up to hear a ghastly scream from outside. It's coming from my field on the outskirts of the neighborhood and I grab my kukri and my Colt Python. I now down before the Jor the Hunter poster in my bedroom in reverence. After that, I rush towards the source of the scream only to encounter Louis, the junkie and his friends's pathetic attempt to help out an injured man who I assume is with them and this.....person? Who the hell knew? I had a good buzz going so I wanted to dare to be a badass today. And then, a Sonee scared out of its wits waddled towards me. Now was my chance....to rip off some animu.

"This kukri of mine glows with an awesome power! It's burning blade tells me to defeat you! Take this! My love, my anger and all of my sorrow! Shining Kukri! Go! Go! Go!"

I repeatedly stabbed the Sonee as it cried for a mother that was never there.

"Goo-GEEEEEE! SONEEEE!!!!"

After I was done, I threw the Sonee carcass aside. The vultures will finish what nature should've started years ago.

Spoiler: Konstantinos

"The woman's mannerisms were eerily canine-like in nature. This fact bothered Toadvine but he stood firm for he had faced far more ghastly foes before. When she moved her hips he heard the distinctive noise of ceramic clacking together.

Toadvine noticed the dog woman's hand twitching nervously. Her eye was drawn to her plunder, of which had been strewn around the sidewalk. Toadvine dashed towards the dog woman while she was distracted. He slammed into her with his elbow out, knocking the knife out of her hand in the process. In truth Toadvine did not have time to gut the woman as he had threatened earlier. He frantically searched for the medallions on the dog woman before finding them attached to her belt.

The dog woman grabbed her knife and drew it across Toadvine's face. He recoiled backwards in pain, one hand clutching the grim trophies and the other shielding the newly-formed wound. As the dog woman rose twin beams of light shot illuminated the darkness. The junkie's van was fast approaching. The van drove between the two foes and interrupted their dual. Toadvine fled the scene by cover of the dust that the van had kicked up. He made for a nearby alley and disappeared amid the garbage and slums contained their within."
---
"The cut on Toadvine's temple stung but he did not pay it much heed. Toadvine wandered aimlessly through the back alleys while clutching a section of cloth to the side of his head. He kept his weapons within reach. The back alleys of CWCville had gained notoriety for the gangs of feral sonichu youths that stalked them. He had heard many a story of a man being torn to shreds by a crowd of ravenous sonees and rosees.

He heard something writhing amid the piles of uncollected refuse that lined the alleys. He halted. A creature had emerged at the top of one of the piles. A small, repulsive beast with a sickly yellow pallor stood staring at Toadvine. The sonee was bigger than most, signifying that he was on his way to a miserable adulthood. His blood-shot eyes bulged out of his starvation wracked face. Hungry, the sonee gurgled. Toadvine drew his Bowie knife. Hungry, the sonee murmured before stepping down from the heap of garbage. Toadvine looked around. Grotesque ferals began to emerge from their hiding spots. Toadvine drew his revolver by the barrel.

The creatures began to encroach upon Toadvine. He spat and drew up his armaments. A melee soon engulfed the alleyway. The gnarled youths converged on the long haired desperado. Toadvine swung his weapons wildly and roared vehemently at his foes. The ferals gnashed their teeth dreadfully and some attacked one another in the hopes that they might get to ingest a piece of their prospective prey.

Toadvine sliced his way through the wretched horde. He gored, knifed, cleaved or stomped any and all ferals that lunged upon him. The ferals in their prototypical malnourished state were easy foes. Their bones were weak and their flesh was butter-like in its composition. The only thing that drove the husks was desperation and hunger. Toadvine's duster soon became slick with the blood and viscera that spilled out of the eviscerated youths.

As the ferals began to disperse in terror, Toadvine clubbed the teenage sonee in the skull with his revolver. With a sickening crack the sad and ridiculous youth's skull broke upon contact with the butt of the revolver. The sonee collasped to the ground, his eyes distant and empty. Toadvine exhaled deeply and began to lurch down the alleyway once more.

Toadvine had been wounded. Not seriously but he felt his pace decrease. He had been bitten and slashed a number of times during the melee. He could scarcely approximate which part of his body was more ailing than the other.

Toadvine wandered out of the alley and through the streets. His vision became hazier. He found himself in front of a house now in front of which a figure stood. In one hand he holds a blade and in the other he casually holds the remains of a sonee. Toadvine calls out to the figure and soon realizes that its the youth from the bar. Feeling exhausted by his labors and debilitated by his injuries, Toadvine collapses on the youth's lawn."
What a strange story this is thus far. It hasn't even begun yet and our four leads have already been demonstrated to be total psychos. After all, our heroic team of investigators consist of a degenerate drug addict, a desperado with a thirst for blood, a writer with morbid aspirations and a furry who moonlights as a thief. It's to be expected I guess.

Spoiler: Pine Tar

After that helter skelter, I find Louis collapsed on Robert's front lawn. Robert could be home at any moment, but Louis's injuries look severe, I go inside and grab my first aid kit. Louis could be quite the useful asset to have around, so I get to work on him before he could die of blood loss. His wounds looked bad, but nothing that a little field surgery couldn't fix. I disinfect his wounds, cauterize them and wrap them in bandages. Suddenly, I see bright lights headed towards the driveway.

Spoiler: Konstantinos

"Toadvine awoke briefly from his delirium. Strands of his long black hair were strewn around his head. The medallions laid idly on his chest. His head pounded and he could barely form cohesive thoughts.

Toadvine looked up weakly to see the youth applying something to his wounds. Toadvine tried to speak but gibberish emerged from his mouth. The youth wiped some of the mashed sonee guts off Toadvine's duster and continued to dress his wounds.

Toadvine felt as though he could see blinding, colored lights in his peripheral vision but he was not certain. He soon found himself falling back into unconsciousness. He felt as though he had not rested in a long time."

"In his trauma-induced sleep Toadvine dreamt of past exploits. Conjured were images of the men he had ridden with and the chus from which he had obtained his medallions. Toadvine saw the face of the man who had disfigured him. He saw the brand with which the man had done the deed. Toadvine felt the searing pain of it making contact with his forehead. The mark it left read 'CWC.'

Toadvine had set his sights on getting revenge on the man. He aimed to take his medallion, the most ancient and prized of them all. The man had disappeared abruptly one day leaving no trace of his wretched existence. Toadvine remained committed to the cause. He would find the man one day. He would seek him out to the ends of the earth to make their bloody reunion possible."

 

[Konstantinos]

"Toadvine had known violence his whole life. He felt that there was little that could truly disturb him as the foreman had warned. I reckon I'm game for anything, Toadvine said. Let's go.

Toadvine glanced at his cohorts once more. The presence of the junkie and the dog-like woman displeased him greatly. They both clearly remembered who Toadvine was. It did not dawn on the junkie that Toadvine had been the one that mauled his comrade."

 

[Quote Me Now]

Mr. Comic looked relieved to hear that the ragtag group of "Investigators" had at least decided to hear him out. He led them out of his Portakabin into the construction site proper, down a gravel path, talking as he went.

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0VZzDz6NZoz

Attached to the door of the Portakabin was a weathered sign - "Foreman's office, Mr. Piper Gulliman Smith Murphy Bagget Comic"

The curtains were drawn in the new Portakabin, making it a little difficult to see. Sprawled in the corner of the room is a shape under a white sheet, stained red in places. There's also a desk in the corner, which looks like it's been pushed up there recently judging by the desk indentation outline where the body lays.

What do you do first?

 

[Randall Fragg]

Tyce huffs some Jenkim to brace himself, pulls open the curtain, and pulls back the sheet.

 

[Pine Tar]

I look at the scene for a few minutes. Then, I have the questions I want to ask.

"Is this how all of the victims ended up? Does this happen at the same time every time? Was Mr. Bagget displaying any odd behaviors at any point?"

I then step back as Tyce starts unleashing an avalanche of curse words upon seeing the corpse.

 

[Konstantinos]

Quote Me Now, your British voice is indeed sexy.

"Toadvine followed the foreman through the yard. The crude ensemble of investigators arrived at the scene of the crime. Toadvine gazed upon the eviscerated corpse silently. The junkie inhaled some of his foul intoxicants and cussed loudly. The junkies comrades stood not far behind him. Toadvine saw the one he had wounded the night prior.

What's the cause of death, Toadvine asked. He knelt and examined the remains of the late foreman. The grotesque scapular around Toadvine's neck swung lazily. Looks like your predecessor was cut up somethin' fierce.

 

[Quote Me Now]

Mr. Comic remained outside as the group slowly approached the body, Tyce being the one able to summon the courage to remove the sheet first.

The body underneath was a mess, with incredibly wide, deep cuts all over it's arms, back, and chest. Each crimson gash must have been at least an inch wide, and over five times as long. The ex-Mr. Bagget was not clothed above the waist, but a bulge in his right trouser pocket indicated he may still have personal possessions on him.

What would you like to investigate first?

 

[Dollars2010]

November’s head cocked to the side in a intrigued manner as her eye laid upon the mangled corpse of the foreman, looking over the wounds with a narrowed gaze. She approached cautiously, head lowered with a soft sounded whine. Never had she seen such a site in reality. Sure, November had her fair share of fights, but never had they concluded with someone in this dreadful state.

“Let’s see,” the young woman murmured under her breath, eye scanning over the corpse, wondering if there was anything on his person that could indicate or hint at what had happened. Her eye caught glimpse of the bulge within his pocket.

November's head tilted to the other side as her left hand cautiously reached out to fish out what it was.

 

[Randall Fragg]

"Holy fuck man, like, holy shitpiss, this dude got fucking fucked up. Taaaah, that's realistic."
Tyce searches for any hidden objects.

 

[Konstantinos]

"The dog woman's hand collided with Toadvines. They had reached for the object in the corpse's pocket at the same time. I reckon I saw it first, Toadvine growled. He still carried a great deal of resentment towards the dog woman."

 

[Randall Fragg]

Tyce rifles through a desk drawer and finds a pistol and a sheet of paper.
"Aww sick man, a Deagle! And some gay ass paper. Uhhhh."
Tyce attempts to read. After about one minute he holds the paper aloft and yells
"Hey, could someone read this faggot? It's all in crazy faggot gibberish."

 

[Dollars2010]

November shot a glower towards Toadvine, before snatching the object out of Mr. Bagget’s pocket in a dexterous motion and revealed a full to bursting wallet. Her eye lit up, her mind immediately thinking that it was packet with a wad of cash. With a grin, she pawed it open only to have her face twist with disappointment.

The contents were a single 10 W-Quarter note and a license that confirmed that the deceased was indeed Mr. Bagget. Muttering a curse, she was about to hand the wallet over to the rugged Toadvine so he could deal with it, until something else caught her attention.

“Oh?” she cooed, gingerly pulling out the slip of paper and looking over. “How curious. This might be of importance,” November stated, turning to face the others before reading aloud:

Spoiler

Thursday, 4th September, 2014

Grymbal & Grisby Construction Co.

Mr. Bagget,

It would be in your best interests to cease excavation in and around the pit. The company cannot afford to potentially lose more members of their workforce inside—simply avoid it until we’ve discussed what to do with it at our next board meeting

- Mr. Grisby, Snr.

After reading, November lowered the note with a shrug, unsure of what to make of it.

 

[Pine Tar]

After witnessing the mutilated body and the letter, I start to wonder about the pit. What could be in that pit? Maybe there might be something from the Lost Era of the Mayor there? Either way, it piqued my interest. I wanted to find out more and maybe, find out where the Mayor really went.

 

[Konstantinos]

"Toadvine listened as the dog woman read the note. I reckon what we ought to take a look in that pit, he said to his cohorts. The dog woman wore an expression of silent agreement. The junkie stood on the other side of the room, oblivious to their discovery. He held in one hand a piece of paper and in the other what appeared to be a handgun.

Toadvine approached the junkie. The junkie stood squinting at the piece of paper. Toadvine did not appreciate the junkie casually waving the pistol around in his other hand. He silently mouthed the words on the paper albeit slowly. You, Toadvine barked. Can't you read? The junkie stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Give me that, Toadvine barked once again as he snatched the paper out of his hands."

"Toadvine found the drawing greatly unnerving. The misshapen characters depicted on the page felt eerily familiar. What do you all make of this, Toadvine announced as he held up the paper for his cohorts to see."