Dr Archeville

Dead Head had just left little Esteban's room, closing the door softly behind him, leaving Mutt upstairs to play with the child. He had not said anything about the father's fate, merely saying that he was being "dealt with." He sensed Strix approach, and turned to face him, "okay, so, somethin' bit pa at Saint Sebastian's, on Ash Street, an' it made 'im a super-strong bloodsucker after a few nights. Without him needin' t'be buried," he shook his head. "An' he chomped down on his wife wife, after he let go'a the steering wheel an' crashed the car, then wrecked it more t'make it look worse than it was. Dog wouldn't stop barking, so 'e tore it ta pieces. An' he was gonna bite 'is kid, but wanted t'let 'im grow a bit first." He ran his fingers through his unkempt ghost white hair, "don't know if he held off 'cuz he just wanted t'see his son grow a bit, or if somethin' else told 'im to. At any rate, we gotta stake out Saint Sebastian's, an' find where they took ma. 'Cuz I got a nasty feelin' she's gonna be gettin' up soon, if she ain't already."

"More or less, yeah," he glanced over at a spot of air near one of the dumpsters. He glared at the spot a moment, made a "get on with it" gesture, then turned back to Strix. "An' y'ain't wrong on that, he can sniff out things 'cross dimensions. So if it is somethin' supenatural, he should still be able t' track it." "Really hopin' it ain't, though," he muttered. "Damn faeries...." "Oh, sure, I know all about blood magics an' such. Heck, y'ain't the first vampire I run with. Never did much care fer it, too messy fer my likin'," he said, unaware (or uncaring) of the large fly that had just landed on his face and was crawling across his eyeball. "I'm a people person, I prefer talkin' with folks, dead or alive."

Using "Boo" setting on Necromancy, specifically the Challenge/Forceful Intimidate part (from Masterminds Manual), to Intimidate the young cop into dropping his gun (an action that is against his interests). And Dead Head's got Skill Mastery on Intimidate, so he can Take 10 and get 24.

What the- Dead Head had just popped up from behind the kitchen counter, about to dive for the vamp, when suddenly there was a pile of ash there. He made a quick assessment as his wayward hand scrambled up his leg, flipped up, and neatly reattached itself to his wrist. "Right... I'll go see to the child," his gravelly whisper of a voice rang out, and he made towards the stairs. As he passed the younger cop, he turned just enough for the officer to get a good look at his face -- the bruise-colored skin, which was far too taut, the rictus grin, a cockroach peeking out of his ear. The blue-green flames in his eyes flared up, and his voice took on an even more sepulchral quality. "Drop it. It wouldn't do you any good against us anyway." And then he continued up the stairs. Hey, Mutt. Vamp's taken care of. I'm comin' up, and gonna want t'talk to the kid. Let 'im know, okay? "Esteban," Mutt said, trying to carefully enunciate the name as best his canine mouth could, "my friend is coming up, and he would like to talk with you. He wants to help, but he needs to ask you some questions. You may think he looks... weird, but he is a very good person. Is this okay? He wants to help." Little Esteban heard footsteps at his door, and a soft knock. "Hello? Esteban? My name is De- my name's Burt. I'm a, well, I like to help folks. That's mah hound yer with. He's a good boy, ain't he? I'd like to ask you a few questions, about... about yer pa. About what happened to him. May I come in?"

Mutt's got Scent (Acute for Olfactory) plus Tracking for Olfactory (with Dimensional 3, so he can smell things across dimensions), and Skill Mastery on Notice and Survival, getting 25 on the former and 20 on the latter. So once Burt gets him focused, he should be able to help.

"There's a fair chance he took her back to where he come from," he countered, pulling out his shovel from its pocket dimension and leaning on it. "An'd knowin' where he come from can help us figure out motive. That's an important thing detective types look for, yeah?," his rictus twin twisted briefly into a smirk. "Was 'e a human that got changed into a critter? If so, did he know one of these women? Or was it a critter that someone tried t'change into a man? Or some alien from outer space? A twisted faerie critter from some other dimension? Man, I hope it ain't one'a them, they can be such a headache..." Chicken nuggets? "No, Mutt! C'mon, focus -- you sniff out any gopher-folks?" Dead Head stared blankly at Strix as he did his thing with the blood -- the undead can have killer poker faces. "Hunh. Didn't know ya could do that. Good t'know."

"So my understandin'," came a gravelly whisper of a voice from behind a half dead shrubbery, "is that animal-headed folks ain't too common 'round these parts. Y'all ain't got all them super science labs an' Doctor Moreau-types like Freedom City do, right? So where d'ya think this feller come from? An' where'd he go with lil' Emily?" Get burger now? "No, Mutt, not now. That stuff probably ain't good for ya nohow. So anyways," Strix sensed the voice turn back towards him, "ya really think we'll find any clues here? I mean, even if we do find, like, a hair sample from the chipmunk-man, it's not like we got a lab where we can analyze it... do we?"

Dead Head's got Skill Mastery on Notice. Taking 10 gets him 21. He'll be looking for anything that might have been the remains of a person (or animal) that had been burned.

Artificer And Carrion Beasts (11) 11 posts, +15 from Dok = 26 posts = 3pp Dead Head Bedlam Burning: Beauty and the Beasts (4) Everyone Is From Somewhere (15) Red Death Redemption (13) 4+15+13 = 32 posts = 3pp Doktor Archeville [Titanium!] Better Thinking in the Lost World (3) A New Enterprise (11) The Strongest Link (6) 3+11+6 = 20 posts; 15 to Artificer and 5 to Horroshow Horrorshow Body Doubles (1) [finished] Dead Men Tell No Tales (2) Stellar School (4) 1+2+4 = 7 posts, +5 from Dok = 12 posts = 2pp

He would if he knew where that was!

Dead Head at least knows (from Gather Info/Well-Informed and chatting with Strix) that Lady Horus is a heroic type, so he'll have Mutt relay what's going on downstairs, sure.

Dead Head's got Skill Mastery with Sense Motive, so I'll Take 10, getting 25.

"I didn't see Theodora when I left, though," he whispered back. "Not in her room, not in the house. Was she out back? And a medical experiment? Why would that need to be conducted so far out here?" Medical experiment, but out in a remote area. In case something went wrong. What could go wrong? A bioweapon? No, Dalekos would have said that, even if nothing else. Medical... regeneration.. restoration... His eyes went wide as a thought darted through his mind like an eel, dragging through bits of recent conversation. It was an insane thought, but perhaps madness was needed to combat madness. He looked back to his father, with a questioning look that his parents had become wary of, then turned and approached Dalekos. "Ah, Genral, sir, I'd like to know more -- if I may -- about the facility. I know some things must be kept confidential, of course, need-to-know, but," he swallowed hard, trying to steel himself and not look the fumbling child, "if I am to help you, to the best of my ability, then I would need all the information I can. About the children -- their ages, numbers, and so on -- and about the nature of the experiments being conducted there."

1d20+2: 6 [1d20=4] ?

I might as well go ahead and roll. 1d20+2: 6 [1d20=4] Oof And that's for both Dead Head & Mutt (they both have the same initiative modifier). Unless you want me to roll separately for Mutt?

Was there really an accident? Something attacked them on some lonely road, took his wife? And dog? But left the father, infected, and the kid untouched? Somethin' ain't addin' up. Hey, Mutt, good job. Keep an eye on the kid. What's that? She's openin' the window? Oh, probably goin' t'let him out. Right, okay, kid likes dogs, so maybe you can help 'em. Outside, hovering just in front of the window Lady Horus had opened, a great dog appeared. He appeared to be a mix of Mastiff, Newfoundland, and St. Bernnard, powerfully muscles, with fur the color of a midnight sea. He was looking at the two, smiling as best he could. "Hello," the hound said, in a very rough and shaggy voice. "My name is Mutt. I am a Hound of Legba. We heard about the monster, and came to help. Can I help you down?" Back downstairs, still crouched behind the kitchen counter, Dead Head continued to watch Mr. Delgado and the two cops. Wanna get these cops outta here, but how? If I spook 'em, they might start shootin' up the place, hit the kid or some neighbor. Ohh, I think I know. He grabbed his right wrist with his left hand, snapped it off, and placed his right hand down on the floor. IT sprang to its fingertips and scuttled about a bit, then scurried out around the kitchen, and under the table in the dining area. If I can play this right, I can get at least one'a them cops to investigate what's scurryin' around in there, an' Strix can mind-whammy th' other.

Hunh, another vamp here, but not the same as Strix. Less shadowy, more... bloody. If that's the monster the kid's dad's become, an' those cops walk into it, things could get real messy real quick. All this passed through Dead Head's mind as he contorted and squeezed his way through the dog door, with a few sickening POPs are joints dislocated and later popped back into place. He just managed to get a quick look around when he heard the cops pound on the door, and dove back into the kitchen, crouching behind the counter. He saw the man approach and the two cops enter, and Strix slip in after them. I really need to figure some way to communicate with him, all quiet-like. Maybe- no, no, focus. Hey, Mutt, whatcha see- oh. Oh! She might be just the kinda help we'll need, if this fella's what I think. Though I'm sure Strix won't be happy 'bout 'er. Okay, stay with 'em, keep outta sight fer now. We got the guy down here. He peeked up just enough to keep an eye on the four. Okay, but where is the wife, an' dog? If he fed on 'em, it were recent, there'd not be time for 'er to rise, so where's the bodies? Didn't see a shed outside. Could be a basement, they's more common out here than back East. Or an attic? Crawlspace? Assumin' they's still here, of course. Hey, Mutt, scratch that -- look around up there an' see if you can find anyone else. That boy's got a mom and a dog -- a Chow Chow, I think -- see if you can find 'em up there.

"Merciful Poseidon," Heroditus muttered. He wasn't particularly religious, not were his parents, but some oaths were so prevalent they'd become culturally ingrained. Children... were they taken for sacrifice, or... transformation? He tried to distract himself from dwelling on the fate of the young ones, focusing on more objective, technical aspects. "What was being worked on there? Weaponry? Weaponry too dangerous to develop near our homes? Something high energy?" He began to ask more questions about what could be researched there, when another factor popped into his head. "And you said it was near the Surface border -- could they have detected the attack? Are we in danger of coming into contact with some Surfacers stumbling into this?"

Name: Heroditus Fabricus Stylianos Codename: Artificer Year: Sophomore in 2019/2020 year (should graduate Spring 2022) Pronouns: He/him/his Roommate: Unassigned Goals: learn about Surfacer technology and magic, how to incorporate those into Atlantean techno-magic, restore/improve Atlantis Favorite High School Movie: He's never seen any! He'd enjoy cathartic films, like Sam Mendes' American Beauty (1999) [until he learned more about some of its stars], John Hughes' The Breakfast Club (1985) [ditto], Stephen Herek's Mr. Holland's Opus (1995), and Peter Weir's Dead Poets Society (1989).

Shifted by Durf A small note I'd like added to the bottom of Horrorshow's sheet: Junior 2019-20 Senior 2020-21 EDIT: Also, I see he's got 10pp unspent. Let's use 8 of those to give him a second rank in Shapeshift. Thank you

Does anything here set off DH's necromancy senses?

Poor Guy, Dead Head thought as he ran over, with Mutt trailing behind, wonder what it was what happened to tear his head off? He weren't too forthcoming on that, an' I weren't about to push, not now that we's on a case. Maybe I can ask later, though. As soon as he saw the red and blue lights, he ducked behind the townhouses and crept along, giving Mutt time to catch up. He wasn't worried about what their guns might do to him, but was concerned about stray bullets hitting neighbors and other bystanders. When he heard the voices from the second story window, he turned to his invisible companion. "You can get in quicker'n I, so g'won in an' see what's what." Mutt nodded, and the spirit hound flew in, seeking out the sound of the voices. Meanwhile, Dead Head looked for any opening -- a dog door, a vent, a busted window, anything he could contort his way through. I think I could make the jump to that second floor window, but if it's locked, I ain't gettin' in quiet.

Dead Head was in the Lodge's library, in a plush chair by a roaring fire (which only sometimes resembled a leering face), reading one of the journals of the original owners of the estate. He wanted to know more about who'd built the place, and the magics they'd used. This particular one was bound in flesh and inked in blood. However, as the writer was a teen at the time, who was just starting to dip their toes into the darker aspects of the occult, it used components from neighborhood pets, not humans. When the spectral maid appeared and delivered her message, he seemed more annoyed than surprised. "I done told y'all, Bee," he said as he rose, setting the book down, "y'ain't gotta use this 'Sire' stuff with me. Just plain' ol' Burt'll do." Beatrice Bavier had been a servant in several estates throughout New England, all of whom had at least one child die of a mysterious illness. Police eventually realized they'd all been poisoned, but she'd moved out west before they could question her. By the time she got to Bedlam, she'd exhausted the last of her stolen funds, and was living on the streets. That's when a charming man from the Twilight Lodge found her, revealed her knew all about her sordid history, and offered her a position in his estate. She was, after all, still a decent cook and cleaner; her knowledge of poisons was a bonus. She served them faithfully for several months, until she "accidentally" used too much sedative on one of the sacrifices and killed them before their time, and was chosen as a hasty replacement. "An' ya done good tellin' me," he nodded, hoping positive reinforcement would help these damned souls to continue serving penance. "Okay, let's go see that wight with th'address."

Enjoined by Durf Please add the following feat to Dead Head: Benefit 1 (Membership in the Twilight Lodge) This gives him 24pp in Feats, and a total of 238/242 (4 unspent). Scratch that, let's use some of my Veteran Reward to add 1PP of Equipment (5 EP) to the Twilight Lodge. This leaves his total at 237/242 (5pp unspent).

"Well, sir," he began, recalling what little he recalled from his non-artisan lessons, "aside from the stories some parents use to scare their wayward children, I understand them to be living blasphemies, the result of Atlanteans who... comingled with the degenerate Serpent People of Lemuria, either by choice or not." He tried to sound clinical, objective, sticking with the facts as he knew them. "They have an endless hunger, for flesh and souls. They may be just as intelligent as us, but seem wholly dominated by their appetites, and the influence of their nameless demon-deities." He knew that was a controversial statement -- there simply hadn't been many studies of Deep One intellect or culture, and the few who had been captured and interrogated were either raving fanatics or more akin to wild animals -- but he wanted to be thorough. "They are definitely faster than us, have powerful claws, and strong scales that offer them some protection from conventional damage. Many also wield strange magics, or have altered captured Atlantean tech to their ends. And that they can do the same to us, can use their preternatural magics to transform captured Atlanteans into Deep Ones, twisting their captives' bodies and minds into mockeries of their original self." He shuddered at the thought. Perhaps some of the soldiers did, too.