Forsaken: The Edge of Everything
Joseph Christensen, aka "Mudd"
Silent, but Deadly.
|Tribe:||Hunters in Darkness||Willpower:||4||Cunning:||3|
|Disarm:||If Success>Dex can disarm instead of Damage||2|
|Ambidextrous:||No -2 penalty to offhand use||3|
|Fighting Finesse:||Use Dex with improvised weapons||2|
|[Two Weapon]- Whirling blades:||Dodge goes down only after number of attacks exceeds weaponry score||1|
|Manipulate Earth:||1 Ess.||Dex + Craft + Cunning||113|
|Command Fire:||1 Ess.||Str + Survival + Glory||113|
|Feet of Mist:||1 Ess.||No Roll||141|
|Left Handed Spanner:||1 Will||Wits + Craft + Purity||144|
|Sense Weakness:||1 Turn.||Int + Emp + Wis||134|
|Beat up bike|
Wound penalties ignored
-2 to Death Rage
Stupid & Awkward
Born into a traditional Native American family this baby was taken by their shaman and branded as evil, his spirit tainted. This pure shaman refusing to have his tribe tainted by one of the forsaken, yet unable or unwilling to kill him the baby was clad with talismins surrendered to his fate.
The minister who found him that morning didn’t know the curse he was picking up. 18 years of rebellion, violence, and lawlessness continuously tried his patience and faith. There was no cake on that birthday, only papers. Enlist and get out, or get out. Two choices given by his “father”. He had never, would have never considered the military, yet when he thought of the battles and commrodary which he had never truly felt his skin would tingle, excitement coursing through his veins.
After years of service the dissapointment and isolation still persisted. Even his brothers in battle kept him at a distance. Something about him unsettling to them. He still loved them. From the shadows. As an explosives expert his main job was dissarming traps. IED’s, mines and the like. He would scout go ahead of his brothers to make sure the path was clear, (he always had good senses for finding things) most of the time without them even knowing. He prefered to work at night, feeling that the light of the moon shone more on what should be and less on what shouldent (by now he was fine with being crazy).
One night, darker than most as the moon was fresh in the sky he had discovered an unusual IED it had a pressure sensor connected to a timer so that the front ranks would activate it but it would blow inside of the convoy. He appreciated it for its viciousness and set to work quickly disarming it. This one will go in my collection he thought. As he worked he heard the sound of a Jeep and singing. They had a good day, they had rooted out a cell of towl heads without loosing a single man. They were obviously celebrating by driving around drinking (away from their superiors eyes) when they noticed Mudd.
Crap he thought as he heard them driving up. He did not like distractions while he worked (partly why he came out at night) and they were drunk and going to be a big distraction. As he freed his hands he heard a barely audible beep. His heart sunk. He had just activated the device. His heart racing he stood up yelling at his brothers telling them to run to turn around. Not noticing they continued toward him. His yells more and more frantic he thought nothing of himself. Not running, holding his ground as a meat sheild should the message not get through. His blood about to boil his yelling suddenly turrned into a howl, loud and deafening. He felt himself grow, ripping out of his skin, his teeth pulled out all at once, nails pushed out from his cuticles his cry of warning turning into a howl of frustration and pain.
The jeep stopped suddenly in a cloud of dust, its passengers sitting down not sure what they just witnessed. And just as suddenly as there reverie was broken so was the silence of their shock. Now on his knees directly in front of the bomb he looks up and see’s they are out of the blast zone, sighs in relief and is hurled forward, flames surrounding him, the stench of burning clothes, fur?, and C4 filling his essence, he lands and rolls, still alive, aflame, and really fucking pissed.
Mudd had felt a lot of anger in his time, but nothing compared to this. He was anger. A body of pure hatred and violence, no thoughts, just burning rage. The rest of that night is a blur. Like a hazy dream that couldent or shouldent be real. If it wasent for the fact that he woke up in a cave naked in wolf form, hung over from the adrenaline and bile that coursed through his veins the night before he might have thought it a dream. As he woke his human form returned, not dead, hell barely even hurt. Instead of feeling shock he felt relief. “I always knew something was different about me” he said, “but god damn! WtF am I?”
He never forgave himself, he swore to never change into that again, and spent the next year fending for himself, hiding in shadows and all together avoiding people. Then the local Hunters in Darkness found him, and gave him only the most obligatory induction before telling him to get the hell out of their country.
Officially six solders were attacked that night, presumably by the Taliban who were using some strange clawed weapons. Five died while one escaped and spent the next year in a state of psychosis caused by the attack, he was discharged and sent home.