.....The world is Earth, and everything is just about normal -modern, everyday life as we know it. But there has been a major catastrophe in a small town know as SnowPeak, located at the base of a mountain in Colorado. People are strangely vanishing and leaving ominous traces behind. News is spreading that something dangerous is on the loose -and that it escaped from the military base a few miles west of the town -a base known to the townspeople as "Area Zero". Military General Hunter Strike -famous for his brutality and skill in offensive and tracking matters- has been sent in to gather a group of people who would volunteer to help in the search for the "escapee" due to losses in numbers of people from the base, preferably those who are familiar with the surrounding landscape and know their way around guns and traps. The only problem is: the "escapee" is a genetically altered beast. And the mission is that it must be either found and captured, or destroyed before any more people from the town can go missing. Rules: .....Only humans can be used in this RPG, so consider the fact that your average human might go into battle, no extra abilities allowed. Weapons are the key thing in this game -namely guns or nets, and maybe some knives along with possible use of off-terrain vehicles. I'd like to keep this basic, and if you know the rules already great, but these are the main things: no god-moding, no controlling other characters. GM's word is law. .....I will usually allow most creative ideas, just make sure they are within reasons (for example: a human cannot survive a jump off of a hundred foot building) Character Template: Name: Age: Bio: Personality: Appearance: Prepare your character and get ready for some sci-fi fun! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hunter Strike Strike cursed himself mentally; not because of his own mistake, but because of all the mistakes the architects and safety inspectors had made while shaping this place. Sirens, flashing lights, all of those were great under normal circumstances, but right now, they were only causing problems. Such as allowing Project Zero to escape by blinding and deafening those who pursued it. Turning, he looked again at the small town that lay at the base of the mountain. The little place known as SnowPeak. It had been two days since the breakout, and now there were reports of people going missing -witnesses claiming that they had seen some kind of monster in the night. Oh, how he wanted to simply tell them they had been drunk or seeing things, but he knew they hadn't. "Day three of search for Project Zero; no signs of its appearance other than rumors and missing people," he muttered into a mic pinned to the shoulder of his uniform, "God help us all if we do not find it."
Hunter Strike Several Days Later . . . Snow crunched beneath his heels, and Strike momentarily paused at the small TV store front, watching the news reporter drone on about "Breaking News: Monster on the Loose! Is this another Big Foot Conspiracy?" "Idiot." he muttered, his breath coming out in a small cloud as he pulled his scarf back over his mouth again, his dark hair fringing his sulfur eyes. He had a streak of grey, but with the unkempt, raggedy look of his hair it seemed more like a scattered bunch of lines across a dark background. The fine lines around his eyes creased further as an image came up of the "supposed" monster, and he had to resist the urge to bark with laughter. How wrong some people were . . . Walking over to the town hall, he raised a sheet of paper to the bulletin board outside the door and stuck it in the bottom right corner, the dark red lettering set in bold emphasizing what the sheet contained: Looking for Volunteers; Skilled both in Combat and Tracking, or are willing to Learn. "That ought to get things started." he grumbled, then walked off towards the bar as an icy wind came up, pulling at his scarf and numbing his fingertips. He needed a drink.
Magda McFarlin Magda sat on the edge of the bed, wondering how it could be colder than in the forest. SnowPeak was as she had expected: a small town, covered in snow with locals making her feel as welcome a syphilis in a brothel. There was just one motel in town. She had checked. Twice. It was dirty and uncared on the outside. To the owner's credit he had tried his hardest to keep the same theme throughout his establishment. And, as she saw, when he eventually came to the desk, he had extended this to his personal appearance. “You a reporter?” he said, after she had asked for a single room for a week. “No,” she said. “Why?” He gestured to the TV on the desk behind him. It was tuned to a local channel, there was a reporter standing in the snow in front of a roadblock. The sound was turned down, but the headline read “Bigfoot on the loose in SnowPeak?”. “Na, didn't think so,” the man said scratching his backside, before reaching round and plucking a key from a hook, behind him. “You ain't pretty enough to be a reporter.” After fiddling with the radiator, Magda managed to get it lukewarm. She decided to take a look around the town. Not trusting the owner, she took her backpack with her, leaving nothing in the room. The town was not exactly busy. It was ski season: she had expected a few tourists, even in a place like this. More worryingly was the lack of military personnel, or police. It seemed either nothing was going on, and one of her closest friends was playing a joke on her, or that Joe Kirk was right: the people in charge seriously underestimated the threat. She went into a store and bought herself a Coke. The man behind the counter, looked her up and down as he dropped the change into her waiting hand. “You ain't from round here, are you darling?” he said. “You a reporter?” “No,” Magda said. “I'm not pretty enough.” The man nodded, sagely. “I've just come in for a bit of skiing and hunting." She gestured to the rifle, hanging from her backpack. "I'm meeting up with my cousin, Joe Kirk. He works up at the military base. You know him?” The man narrowed his eyes. “Don't know no one from up there, and don't care to, neither. Say, where you from? You talk funny.” “I'm from Dublin,” the lie came easily. No one knew where Belfast was, any way. And everyone loves the Irish. “You don't say,” the man said. “You come all the way over on the Greyhound bus?” Magda looked at him in the eye. He was serious. “That's right,” she said. As she left the store, she saw a man in uniform pinning something on the notice board of, what she assumed was, the town hall. She watched him walk away, and saw him enter a bar across the road. Checking no one was watching her she walked over and read what was written: .....Looking for Volunteers; Skilled both in Combat and Tracking, or are willing to Learn. Oh, dear God. What kind of amateur operation are they running here?
Art Green The punch hit the orderly squarely in the jaw sending his head flying backwards. He struck again and again, pummeling the man until he was certain that he was unconscious. He looked down the hall, it was still quiet and no one seemed to have heard. Quickly he bent over the beaten man and stripped him of his uniform and keys, then he put on that same uniform, all the while keeping an eye out for other orderly’s or would be passerby’s. He walked through the main entrance and not one single person questioned him. Outside the night air was cold with the crispness of freshly fallen snow. He took a deep breath; no air had ever tasted more pure. Two weeks later… “Big foot on the loose in Snowpeak?” Art Green smiled as the news anchor spoke on the television. None of them had believed him and they were paying now because of it. He looked around the shabby motel room; it wasn’t much to look at. It had a single bed and a small bathroom, its walls were puke green, and a large motif of a garden gnome that seemed a little too cheer full hung above his bed. It wasn’t a Hilton but it sure as heck beat his last residence. He shuttered at the thought of the place. “What are you looking at?” The gnome continued to gaze deceptively at him, his mouth twisted in a devilish grin. He put on his boots. He was locked up in that Looney bin for six years, forced to subscribe to thousands of hours of therapy sessions and countless pills and “treatments”. But even so, he never once doubted what he had seen that night. When he got the first newspaper clipping that the monster had been sighted he knew that he had to get out of that “hospital”. He quickly pulled out his shotgun from underneath the bed aiming it towards the garden gnome. “Bam!” The picture frames glass shattered as the bean bag round smacked against it, sending arcing lines across its surface and obscuring all remnants of the demonic gnome. He grabbed his pack and his board then went out the door. He still marveled at the way the town looked in the snow. It was truly picturesque, he could just imagine the guys at hallmark coming down to take pictures and make a fortune off of greeting cards. The place seemed to be frozen in time; it was still just the same as it was when he was a kid. He stopped by the diner and grabbed a coffee to go. The restaurant was packed. He could see that some of the media guys had come to town, their press badges proudly displaying their networks. He recognized Barney the disheveled chef that still ran the place and seemed to have a perpetual sweatiness about him no matter the temperature. He knew practically every person in this town and not one of them recognized him. As he walked back outside he noticed a women standing at the message board, which he didn’t recognize. She had a certain stick up her butt stature about her; that screamed law enforcement or military. He was about to double back into the restaurant, but whoever she was, her attention was too focused on the piece of paper too notice him. Curiosity got the better of him, so he walked up to message board as nonchalantly as possible, and glanced at the paper. Looking for Volunteers; Skilled both in Combat and Tracking, or are willing to Learn. So there was someone else hunting the monster, and apparently looking for volunteers.
Hunter Strike Strike sat down in the dimly lit bar, pulling away his scarf as the humid air in the place -despite the fact that it was the middle of winter- threatened to stifle him. The bartender looked over and nodded his head once, taking a glass and filling it with his usual. General Strike wasn't an unknown name in this place. "You hear about that monster that was sighted 'round in the woods? People say that's why those three hikers went missing." the bartender -Ted- said with a slight accent. He had come from some other place, but Strike didn't care to learn where. Strike took a swig of the alcoholic beverage -aptly named Double-Strike- and set the glass on the counter with a slight clack of the glass on the old, stained wood. "Yeah -That's why I'm even here." he grumbled, then eyed the bartender, "Happen to see anyone new in town by any chance? I'm lookin' for some volunteers to go look for that thing, and most others seem too chicken to play ball." Ted frowned, his face creasing in thought, "Can't say i have -but I'll let ya know if anyone comes up that's interested in the job." "Sure." Strike said, laying down a few bucks for the drink and walking out of the bar, pulling his scarf in place and checking his holster in case someone swiped his hand-gun. Couldn't have people getting things that dangerous unless they had a permit -and he had the only permit for his type of gun. As the door closed behind him, he loaded it with a syringe of glowing green fluid and shut the barrel with a faint clack of metal on metal. Couldn't be too sure the "monster" would attack in the daylight.
Magda McFarlin Magda turned away from the notice and almost collided with someone. A young man, in his early twenties, was standing beside her, reading the notice. “Excuse me,” she said. He looked up. He had a strange facial expression. Magda had seen something like it once before. In Afghanistan, when visiting one of her colleagues in hospital. The man in the next bed had had the same wild stare as this guy. A mixture of determination, satisfaction, and... hunger. It had scared her. And she wasn't easily spooked. The door of the bar, across the road opened, drawing her attention away from the strange young man. The military guy walked out. A General, if she was not mistaken. She saw him remove his weapon as the door closed behind him. There was a flash of something green – a trick of the light? - and then he closed the barrel and the gun was back in his holster. She weighed up her options: follow him, or introduce herself? Their eyes made contact, as he glanced over to the notice board. Her decision was made. She cleared her throat, and crossed the street, aware of the eyes of the man by the Town Hall burning into her back as she did so. “Excuse me, Sir?” Magda said.
Hunter Strike Strike looked up as a woman approached him. "Excuse me, sir?" she asked, and when he looked behind her he spotted a younger man in his twenties. "Yes, how can i help you?" he said gruffly, his breath coming out in a cloud of mist. His keen, yellow eyes flicked from one person to the next, and then to the bulletin board. They looked like they might be the type he needed. Don't bet on it, he thought, They might just be your next tourist group curious to see the so-called "monster of SnowPeak".
Magda McFarlin Magda saw the look in the general's eyes as she approached. He looked enthusiastic. "Yes, how can i help you?" he said in a rough voice. He had been drinking, she could smell it on his breath. "General, Magda McFarlin," she said, saluting him. "I see you're looking for volunteers, Sir. I was up here on a hunting holiday, and wondered if I could be of assistance? I was due to meet my cousin. But he hasn't shown up. Maybe, you know him. Joe Kirk: he works up at the military base." Magda thought she saw something flicker across the general's face, at the mention of Joe's name.
Thomas Berony Thomas sighed in relief as he shut the door behind him. His mother was great but well, she just kept blabbering on until you walked out. He had come to visit his mother after reports that there was a monster on the loose nearby. Thomas wasn't one for hearsay stories but he wanted to comfort his mother nevertheless. Thomas was quite the stranger in the town. He was clothed for action, almost all in black and with a bulletproof vest, kneeprotectors, elbowprotectors, a bolt-action sniper rifle strapped to his back and a silenced pistol strapped to his belt. Furthermore he wore an arafat shawl to help protect against the cold, and gloves. He headed towards the main street of the old Snowpeak town. The eerie nature of the village put him slightly on edge. The streets were deserted except for a few lost tourists and some loners who either quickly walked in to their houses or set course to the local pub. Coming to think of the local pub or bar or whatever you would want to call the old shack, Thomas could use another hot chocolate before he'd begin his investigation. He though his dad was greatly exaggerating by sending him on a mission to find out about the supposed monster. To Thomas it was evident that the beast was made up to increase the flow of tourism to the dying village. A few people were gathered across the street, just opposite to the pub. They seemed to be reading a leaflet of sorts. With four mighty steps Thomas had approached them. "General, Magda McFarlin," she said, saluting him. "I see you're looking for volunteers, Sir. I was up here on a hunting holiday, and wondered if I could be of assistance? I was due to meet my cousin. But he hasn't shown up. Maybe, you know him. Joe Kirk: he works up at the military base." he heard one of them say. His interest was immediately sparked. Evidently he wasn't the only soldier in town.
Hunter Strike "General, Magda McFarlin," she said, saluting him. "I see you're looking for volunteers, Sir. I was up here on a hunting holiday, and wondered if I could be of assistance? I was due to meet my cousin. But he hasn't shown up. Maybe, you know him. Joe Kirk: he works up at the military base." Strike nodded, "We could use all the help we can get with what's been going on, and apologies for having me be the one to give you this news, but I'm afraid your cousin is . . . missing. He was the guard at the door the night it happened and he was carried off. There has been no trace of anything to follow otherwise. All we know is that he was taken alive, but we don't know if he is any longer." The general carefully avoided locking eyes with Magda, knowing how hard it might be for her and wanting to give her a moment to recover from that blow. Then he saw a young man in military gear heading towards them. "I'm guessing you're here to help out with the search as well?" he asked, holding out a hand to the newcomer.
Thomas Berony "I'm guessing you're here to help out with the search as well?" "You are undertaking a search for this supposed monster?" Thomas asked with interest as he shook the man's hand. "I was hoping to beat you all to it" he said as he looked at the others, "but it sounds like a coperative effort. If that is the case, i'll join you. I know how to survive" Thomas offered his hand to the others as well. "So how were you planning to tackle this? As far as I am concerned it's mostly superstition and a good way to start would be to ask around. But that is just my opinion" he stated humbly.
Hunter Strike Strike gave the man a tight grin, "Actually, i know it personally. See this-" Strike pulled at the scarf covering his neck and revealed a stitched up shoulder -the wound had clearly been very deep and long by the way it dissapeared beneath his clothing- then pulled it back up, "Don't go into this if you won't beleive it. You'll get yourself killed that way." he warned Thomas, "That thing is lethal and has the brains of any of our finest -how else do you think it got out of a top-level military base?" Damn you, Dr. Gerome. You had to make the thing smart enough to be useful, but did it have to be smart enough to turn against us? Strike thought venemously.
Thomas Berony "Don't go into this if you won't beleive it. You'll get yourself killed that way." "I am skeptical, that is all" Thomas said kindly as he made a mental note of the man's scar. Based on the wounds he had suffered himself and those he had seen on others, the man's injury could have been a bear's claw as well. "That thing is lethal and has the brains of any of our finest -how else do you think it got out of a top-level military base?" "I mean no offense but that just sounds like a conspiracy theory to me. I do not mean to brag but...my father has tight connections with the highest general, if any such project exists I deem it likely that I would have known about it. The fact that my father has these connections would not even be the only reason" he added with a crooked smile. "Anyway, where do you suggest we start?" he said eagerly as tightened the strap of his sniper rifle. "Because I was born ready." Thomas said with a sarcastic smile.
Garan walked over the inch-deep snow in the city. He was on the way back from snowboarding. Then, he suddenly saw a croud of people in front of a notice. He decided to check it out. "Excuse me, I'll just walk past here" he said, pushing a woman aside. He stared at the notice. Looking for Volunteers; Skilled both in Combat and Tracking, or are willing to Learn. "Wow, I wonder were to sign up?"
Art Green “Excuse me,” It was the woman; she careened past him headed for a grizzled gentleman who had just exited the bar. The man was older maybe in his fifty’s, but still contained that same military vibe that he had gotten from the woman. So this must be the ring leader of this merry hunt. The women and he seemed to be swapping pleasantries as if this were any normal conversation. Again he was curious, only now his curiosity lead him to wonder at what these two individuals could be talking about. Either way he seemed to be rooted at the spot a tidal wave of confliction roaming over his mind. You’ll be better on your own. But what if they have information about this thing, what if they could help me kill it. Come on art you know this mountain better than anyone you don’t need them they’ll only slow you down. At least I should find out if they know anything useful besides, the enemy of my enemy and all that jazz… He looked up; a kid had joined the conversation going on between the two individuals. Art walked over to the lot, sealing his fate. "Actually, I know it personally. See this- Don't go into this if you won't believe it. You'll get yourself killed that way." he warned Thomas, "That thing is lethal and has the brains of any of our finest -how else do you think it got out of a top-level military base?" That statement from the general, made his teeth grind. Of course the military was responsible for this monster, he had guessed that much but never had he expected to get such a blatant acknowledgement of it. He could already feel his anger boiling as he pictured smashing this man’s face in. He let out a breath regaining his composure for the moment; he would get his revenge eventually. "Anyway, where do you suggest we start?" It was the kid; he was decked out in some serious gear. That was one thing that didn’t make sense, who takes teenagers on a search party for a deadly creature. A cold flash of peter etched on the corner of his mind causing him to shiver. Get a grip… “My guess is it’s probably on the mountain. There are plenty of caves and crevices that it could hide in. But before Scarface here takes us all to the land of swirly twirly gumdrops to hunt this thing, I’d like to get some answers. First off what is that monster? What kind of operation you running here? And why should we trust you?”
Hunter Strike “My guess is it’s probably on the mountain. There are plenty of caves and crevices that it could hide in. But before Scarface here takes us all to the land of swirly twirly gumdrops to hunt this thing, I’d like to get some answers. First off what is that monster? What kind of operation you running here? And why should we trust you?” Strike turned to glare at the man who had just asked the question, "What is it? Well, let's get going and I'll show you. This thing -for lack of a better means of description- is built for every kind of terrain. My "operation" as you so put it, is a plan to get a group together to catch this thing -and if we can't catch it kill it. The only reason I don't say kill it first is because the government's spent a good several billion dollars to develop this thing for war. Now wouldn't that be fun to have a dangerous animal at your back?" "As for trusting me kid," Strike shook his head, "You've ever been in the army, you'll know that answer." Looking around himself, Strike nodded in approval at the number of people who had turned out. "Lets go, we need to make sure you're all at least moderately prepared. First place we head to is Area Zero." he said, walking north and out of town. The mountain could be seen rearing high into the sky, the dark shadows of the forest and a narrow path awaiting them. Whether they would meet the monster between here and the base, they would have yet to know.
The Predator It slowly blinked large, scalene eyes the color of the setting sun as it woke up, hanging from a branch suspended high above the ground and deep in the forest. A stifled hiss came from it as a streak of sunlight glared across its vision, and its nostrils flared momentarily as hooked fangs could be glimpsed beneath a curled lip. Man. It recognized the smell of humans, and it turned its head in an owlish motion to glance at the cabin not far away from it. The stench of fear and confusion -as well as much frustration- filled its nose, and the creature made a strange noise similar to that of a young eagle. They wouldn't be coming out any time soon, it thought as its jaws shut with a bony clack. The baggy portion beneath its chin connected to its throat swelled and deflated as it swallowed a particularly tasty morsel of the fish it had caught in the frozen river several miles away. But it wanted warm food -food that it had been provided for in the cold, white place with poky needles. The creature hissed, deciding against going back there. Though one of the man-creatures had been kind to it, the others had been fearful and kept their bang-pain things pointing at it. No, it was best out here where it could hunt and do as it pleased. (Message for you guys so there is no confusion: This is from "it's" point of view but it is nowhere near you guys, so please don't have any of your characters see it until i make it clear that it is visible)
Stephen Finns Stephen awoke from dreams of train-cars and metal rings. There was no shock in his awakening, no grand, dramatic rise, just the soft opening of his tired eyes.Without fanfare he pulls himself from his bed, neatly making it before he shuffles to his bathroom. After the morning shower came the slow walk down the stairs of his cramped cabin to what constituted as his kitchen, where he sets a pot of tea. As it the water boils he sits down to his kitchen table and begins taking apart the hunting rifle laying atop it. His morning routine worked out like clock-work, with nary a thought going to his movements anymore. Or to anything else. A few of the town-folk referred to it as simple time-wasting, but for Stephen, distraction seemed the more apt word.Finishing up the rifle's daily maintenance, he sets about his meager breakfast of eggs and toast, carefully removing the tea pot from the stove as it began to screech. He sets down to his breakfast,grabbing one of the dozens of wilderness and hunting guides he had piled up in the corner of his kitchen, eating and reading in a dull quietness. He would normally prepare for work at the local grocery mart today, but business had been tough for the owners, so Stephen had offered to leave when they had began talks of letting some of the employees go. It was not as if he really needed the money, but it was something to occupy his time during the weekdays. He decided on hunting today, thinking that if he was lucky enough to come across any deer it could hold him off the next few weeks in relative comfort. Grabbing his heavy coat and slinging his rifle on his back, he set off from his cabin, idly swiping off the pile of snow that had accumulated on his truck as he walked through what passed for his “yard”. His cabin lay firmly settled in the wilderness, connected to the town only through a winding dirt road, ideal for someone who values a bit of privacy. Even when hunting, it was all just going through the motions for Stephen. Two years up in the mountains allowed Stephen to map out a few particularly choice hunting grounds, all he would need do was circle between them as he waited for a target. For two hours he walks through the frozen wilderness, idly lighting a cigarette every now and then to ease his nerve. Hunting had always made him slightly on edge. As here reached that last of his hunting grounds, he noticed a brown lump upon the snow. It's a deer! he thought. His heart began to race in slight anticipation as readied his rifle and looked down the sights. For a quarter of an hour he stared out at the animal, but to his surprise,the deer never made even the slightest movements. Slowly he lowered his rifle and crept slowly towards the creature. He could only see its backside from his angle, and he assumed that it was merely resting after escaping some other predator in the snow. He thought for a moment that it might be sleeping but quickly dismissed the idea. It would never feel safe enough to sleep out in the open like this. Stephen only began to hurry his pace when he saw the first tiny spatters of crimson crystallized upon the snow. He gasped audibly as he reached the corpse. It was indeed a deer, a doe in fact. But its head had been violently ripped from his body and cast but a few short feet away. Stephen examined the body for a few minutes, studying around the neck area. While he was no expert, the wound didn't look like one from any set of claws or teeth. And it certainly didn't appear to of been by an ax or any other human tool. If he had to guess it looked like something had just grabbed a hold of the poor thing and pulled until the head came loose. He just sighed at the thought and discarded his cigarette. Not taking much faith in his own knowledge, he ultimately assumed it had to of been a bear of some kind, as they weren't unheard of in these parts. He could see a few tiny craters embedded in the snow a few inches from the head. The falling snow had dulled any defining details to the footprint, and even curious-er, they seemed to stop after only a few yards, disappearing in the snow near the treeline.But it did give him a direction. Stephen couldn't help find a bit of excitement running through his fingers.It wasn't often he did something genuinely worthwhile with his time,and thought of figuring out this little “mystery” seemed much more pleasant than anything else he had planned that day. With a slight bit of spirit in his step he reentered the woods the woods in his new direction, lighting up another cigarette as he did.
Magda McFarlin Magda kept pace with the general as the group headed out of the town. She was confused, and not a little alarmed. Since when did the military start recruiting like this? This general was a little bit free with secrets, too. Like he didn't expect anyone to be around to give anything away at the end. Was he really organizing a hunt, or was he planning to use this group as bait? She cleared her throat. “Sir,” she said. “What exactly happened up there? I mean, where are all the soldiers, the reinforcements, helicopters and the like? Why are you recruiting,” she looked around at the others. “No offence to you guys: I'm sure you're very skilled,” she looked back up at the general. “A bunch of amateurs to do the job of a trained unit?”
Hunter Strike "McFarlin, there are two things that can disable a well-armed unit." Strike said, his heels crunching through the snow, "And those things are a loss of morality, and a lack of numbers. Every man that has gone out alone to try and catch this thing has vanished. With no one else to try and recruit and the rest of my men scared as rabbits, where do you think that leaves me?" The general sighed and pulled his sleeve up to glance at a watch. It was around three PM. As they entered the forest and walked along a worn road rarely seen by anything but off-terrain vehicles and quads -and maybe the occasional hiker- the man became more visibly wary as he pulled his gun out of its holster and kept it at ready. No birds chirped, and not even the usual sounds of trees crackling in the breeze were there. The forest was utterly silent. It was a dead silence. Then when they rounded a corner, Strike looked up and hissed in alarm as a drop of blood spattered the ground in front of him. Looking up sharply, he saw the disemboweled carcass of a deer dangling in the branches of a tree high above, its head neatly severed and lying on the ground a few feet away. Deep claw marks gouged the surrounding snow and the trunk of the tree, but otherwise there was no trace of where the predator had gone off to.
The Predator It licked its chops clean with a satisfied swipe of its long, black tongue. Though the deer had been a nuisance to drag up the tree in order for it to feed peacefully, the creature had a now-full belly. Deer tasted very fine this time of year. Dropping down out of the tree branches and landing with a heavy crunch onto the snow-covered forest floor, the creature moved with long, purposeful strides, its whip-like tail tapering to a barbed point that waved from side to side. The sun was warm on its fur, and the creature sniffed the air lazily, its amber eyes half-closed. A loud snuffling and growling noise drew its attention. The creature crouched and prowled forwards, its nose filling with a heavy, musky scent tinged with rotting fish. Bear. A challenger in its territory. A low, rumbling growl issued from its throat as it came out of the trees and into a small clearing where the grizzly was fishing beside a small creek. The bear looked up and locked its beady eyes with that of the creature's, and its muzzle curled in anger as some of its fur spiked up like hackles. The bear had silvery whiskers and was amazingly large for such a specimen -it was an old, wise thing with a massive amount of power. Even a human with a fast-paced bang-pain thing would have trouble bringing it down. The creature roared and whipped its tail, eyes blazing in challenge. The bear would leave or fight -whichever it chose though, would end in it being taken down. The bear chose to fight, and reared on its hind legs, standing immensely tall and slashing huge paws at the creature, who ducked and reared on its own hind-legs, the powerful talons digging deeply into the earth to balance it's weight. They roared again and clashed, their jaws snapping and forelegs flailing as each aimed to claw the other to bits. The creature's tail whipped around, and the barbed end buried itself in the bear's neck. The animal roared, but the sound felt drained and weaker. It reared again and tackled the creature, bowling it over into a high drift. Blood spattered the snow, but it was only that of the bear's as its jaws glanced off -harmless against the creature's hide. It flipped over, launching the bear away and making it crash into a pine, making its branches shake and drop their load of snow and burying the bear temporarily. Before the bear could rise again to its hind-legs, the creature launched itself forwards and gave the bear one, two, three solid punches to its throat. No claw marks, no bruising. The bear collapsed, spitting up blood, but the creature wasn't done yet. It clamped down two hand-like fore-claws around the bear's neck and gave a solid twist, cracking the bone and ripping the beast's head clean off. Blood boiled and steamed as it flowed over the snow, making a deep crimson puddle around the body of what had once been one of the most feared predators in North America. Laying the head several feet away, the creature took a moment to pant, then continued on as if nothing had happened, padding through the forest a ways before launching itself back into the trees and vanishing in a flicker of shadow.
Magda McFarlin Magda thought for a moment, the general hadn't heard her. She was about to repeat her question, when he spoke. "McFarlin, there are two things that can disable a well-armed unit. And those things are a loss of morality, and a lack of numbers. Every man that has gone out alone to try and catch this thing has vanished. With no one else to try and recruit and the rest of my men scared as rabbits, where do you think that leaves me?" Jesus, this guy was madder than she thought. Did he have no control over his men? She looked around at the rest of the group, to see if anyone else could see how close to the edge he was. They all avoided eye contact. Perhaps it was better to quit, while she was ahead. Perhaps this guy wasn't even in charge - perhaps he was an escaped nut-job. Magda was about to run when the general made a noise. A hiss like a snake being run over by a punctured tire. She followed the general's eyes. The bloodied carcass of an animal - a deer - hung from the trees. Blood dripped down onto the white snow. Magda saw the creatures head, a few feet away. "Bloody hell," she said.
Magda McFarlin Magda checked the two hand guns she had under her jacket in the twin shoulder holder. Looking around her, she swung her rucksack off her back and removed two more clips of ammo, and the thermal imaging scope. She slipped them into concealed pockets, in her specially designed jacket. She put the rucksack on, checking it did not impede access to her weapons. “Well, General,” she said. “It seems your expensive pet is around here somewhere. Maybe he just has an aversion to Bambi's head remaining attached to its body, but my guess is that your missing men haven't been asked round for a cup of tea and a friendly game of Scrabble.” Magda looked around at the others, “Any of you guys good at tracking animals?”
Garan Letarim Garan ran home as soon as the general started to move out of town, because he was still in snowboard gear. He managed to keep up with the other's pretty quickly, now wearing leather shoes, his hunter trouser, a camouflage jacket and a military grade hat. He also brought his gun. When he turned the by a turn in the road, he saw a decapacitated deer, it's bowels gone. "Delicious" he said. “Well, General,” she said. “It seems your expensive pet is around here somewhere. Maybe he just has an aversion to Bambi's head remaining attached to its body, but my guess is that your missing men haven't been asked round for a cup of tea and a friendly game of Scrabble.” Magda looked around at the others, “Any of you guys good at tracking animals?” "I have tracked animals before." He replied.
