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Dr Butler

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Antecedents/Orphans Menu
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  1. Game
    1. Session Logs
      1. Antecedents PI: Case Logs and Reports
      2. Orphans: Mishaps and Adventures
    2. Setting
    3. Character Generation
    4. House Rules
      1. Dreaming
    5. Atlantis Background
      1. Atlantian Confederation
      2. The Orphanage
      3. Dor-Manis Surrender
      4. Friends and Strangers
      5. The Bloodlines
    6. Antecedents Background
      1. Age of Aquarius
      2. Antecedents P.I.
      3. Dr Butler
      4. The Antecedents team
      5. Fundis
  2. Antecedents Characters
    1. Andrew: Leopold Arkenov
    2. Byron: Victor Cabal
    3. Ian: Robert Stane
    4. Richard: Corey
    5. Samson: Kai
    6. Jim: Royce
  3. Orphans Characters
    1. Andrew: Puyter the Archonian
      1. Puyter's Plan
    2. Byron: Wendy (Woody) Winter
    3. Ian: Mouse
    4. Samson: Vecna
    5. Jim: Piper Jake

"Stay down." Whispered Christo to Marcello, two street kids desperate to remain hidden from the thugs that pursued them. Within 10 seconds the mouth of the Western Addition alley they crouched in was filled with four of the toughest local hoodlums ever to bust down Jackson Street.

"Shiit man, did we loose them?"

"Naw G, dem broke ass mexicans went down here fo sho."

"Afta we git ma money back, I is gunna grind me down some fresh taco meat."

"Delar, what you go turning yo back on your hussle anyway, foo?"

"Shut up, one of dem kids must be some Aqui-freak or somethin'."

"Aqui-freak, huh? Well, I's got the right knife for the job then." The owner of this voice reaches in under a jacket far too heavy for this time of year. As he draws a painful looking knife from a leather sheath, a sound like a flare being struck fills the alley's confines.

"Oh man! Look at that blade smoke!"

"Damn straight! Got this here from the Reverend, reckons he took it off a gravefiddler"

The nasty green smoke pouring off the short bladed knife started to move against the wind and up the alley towards a group of parked cards and a pile of dumped boxes and rubbish.

"Well looky here, we gots ourselves a couple of rats hiding out in the trash."

"Come on Marcello - we gotta run," Christo was tugging at Marcello's shirt, "maybe we can jump that fence before these guys catch us." But Marcello wasn't listening. The smokey fumes from the necromancer's blade had already travelled far enough to invade the small boys lungs and, from there into his bloodstream where its paralysing effects were already working on receptors in certain cells throughout his body.

Marcello's eyes had rolled back in his head and he was beginning to convulse in shudders and spasms. With the streetsmarts of a surviver Christo makes a break for the rear of the alley where a sturdy chain fence separated one pile of rubbish from another.

"D'ere's one of them. Get 'im." One of the local thugs intoned, but Christo was away and over the fence before the first of the pursuers was able to give chase. Two of the local hoods followed the fleeing thief leaving Delar and the knife-holder to follow the stream of green smoke to the supine form of Marcello.

"Shiit, man. Look at the blood coming out of his nose. What's in that smoke, anyway?"

"Just some stuff from beyond the grave, you aint scared is you?"

"Naw man, just cut that boy open and find ma money, will you."

"Just check his damn pockets first, dude."

As the two thugs bent over to riffle through the clothing of the incapacitated Marcello, a well dressed figure looks down on them from atop one of the alley's many crowding buildings.

'Barrow ash and Diabolic acid - that's quite advanced stuff.'

"See, we gots most of yo money back already - that other Mission-mex probly got the rest."

"We gunna have some fun with that one?"

"We'll have to. Rev says this smoke will practically kill Aqui's anyway."

"I's just gunna put this one out of his misery then, and we's be on our way." Delar draws a razor sharp butterfly knife out from up his sleeve, it's rattling sound almost musical as he nears the finish of his flourish.

"I'll take that, thank you." A new voice emerges, coinciding with a loud noise between Delar and Marcello as a figure suddenly lands in the alley.

"What the fuck? Stab him Delar." Delar makes a sudden lunge towards the newcomer but a quickly positioned walking stick interrupts the deadly thrust and redirects it into the chest of the man holding the smoking knife.

"What the fuck? I said stab him you idiot!"

Delar looks down at the knife in his buddy's chest in disbelief. His buddy drops the hissing, sputtering knife onto the alley's floor and starts to moan in a most terminal way. Delar picks up the necromancer's knife and waves it back and forth as he backs away from the newcomer to the alley.

"Stay back man or I's gunna cut you like a bitch."

"Do what ever you like young man," the refined stranger says as he bends down to appraise Marcello's stricken form. Delar makes a concerted lunge when the newcomer's back is fully turned and sinking the knife deep into his kindey area.

"Ha! I's got you now B-aitch."

But instead of a panicked groan or morbid gasp the well heeled samaritan simply stands, the blade of the knife turning to ash as he arises, leaving Delar holding a useless knife handle

"You've put a hole in my jacket, that wasn't very nice." He says while turning to face the scared assailant.

"Stay away from me you freak!" Delar chucks the knife hilt at the man and makes a break for the chain fence his friends vaulted over but a minute or so ago. Before he gets there, however, an over large hand latches onto his left shoulder.

(Monsterous voice) I SAID THAT WASN'T VERY NICE

Delar screams as first all the bones of his left shoulder grirdle are pulverised into crumbly bits, and then his right, but he passes out before the real damage is done.

Bending down once more over Marcello's helpless body the immaculately tailored man, albeit with a suspiciously neat cut at the back of his jacket, removes the top of his walking stick and produces from its confines a series of small glass vials. He unstoppers one marked by a strange 12 sided sigil, places his finger at the top and upturns the vial to wet slightly the top of his index finger. He quickly resets the stopper and returns the vial to its place within the shaft of his walking stick.

"Here you go young one," he wipes his index finger along the top of Marcello's lip, "Neanderthal placenta overcomes Diabolic acid every time." And the boy's convulsions stop instantly. He picks up the boy's body, and with a slight hop, returns to the top of the roof overlooking the alley in time for the other two thugs to scale the fence once more.

"Awww man, he got away." Says one.

"D'ere was a cop cruising also, we had to lie low." Says the other.

"Where'd everybody go?" The first one speaks again.

It didn't take them take them long to find the body of their buddy with the Anti-spirit blade and, thanks to a stray twitch from what was left of Delar's musculo-skeletal system, they soon found him also. However, they would rue their discovery that night and for a great many more after that as Delar's twisted and broken, but all the more terrifyingly, alive body gave strength to their screams both right there in the alley and in their dreams from a long time to follow.

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This page was last modified on 2 August 2007, at 07:17.
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