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Ecalsneerg

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About Ecalsneerg

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    That Scottish Guy
  • Birthday 09/07/1991

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  1. Arrowhawk cocked her head, looking at the figure in white. "I know, I can hear someone within..." Clenching her fists, she stepped into the storefront, her boot landing in the tire tracks, moving purposefully and slowly into the dusty, grimy inside. She turned, gesturing at her two companions to hold back, before turning her attentions and sight back to the interior. "Hello? Is anyone there?!"
  2. Arrowhawk followed a few paces behind the whiteclad man. She looked up and down the boarded up storefront skeptically. "And there is no one left in this building to even ask." She bowed her head, lips pursing pensively. "I'd say the body has been moved, but that wouldn't explain the tire tracks." She walked up to the shopfront, and gripped her fingertips around the large board over the shop window. "But do the tracks continue?" Arrowhawk asked, casually pulling at the flimsy boards with strength enough to embed a hatchet in the hood of a car, exposing the derelict store beyond.
  3. Osla turned to the vampire and gave it a withering stare. "'I didn't do it to you, I did it to everyone'? Stunning defence." Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the tattered-looking man. "Fill me in. What did you see. Did you get a good look at the killer, beyond it being inhuman? What kind of inhuman?" Strapping her bow back to her side, she crossed her arms and looked pensive. "It used mortal weaponry to kill these men. Why would it do that? Most non-humans don't need weapons to kill humans. Unless it wanted it to look like a 'normal' killing?"
  4. Arrowhawk stalked around the vehicle, hunching down beside the dead men. She pulled out the money clips and dispassionately examined the money. She let out a sigh. Weeks of work wasted in a careless act of violence. When the undead creature stood back up, she turned with a start, gritting her teeth. She turned to him, blue eyes glaring out from under her cowl. The glare became sharper as he licked a drop of her blood off his knuckle. "Another drop of that and next time I'll decapitate you and throw you in the sea," she said matter of factly. "And in future bear in mind that mob assassins do not wear this," Osla pointed her thumb at the white hawk icon on her chest, "Also perhaps it would be best not to try to roughly use mesmerism on capes when you're inside a dead man's vehicle." She threw the wallets and money clip to the ground in front of the man in white. "Mike Donaghy is an associate of the Scarpias, the other man is Jackie Smith. I had spent weeks tracking them both. Whoever got there first didn't kill them for their money. But there aren't bite marks. Cop narrows it down, but not by much." Arrowhawk suddenly tilted her head and looked at the man in the coat. "What intrigues me, is what you mean by 'not normal'. And how on Earth you figured that out."
  5. Arrowhawk took a step back as the figure collapsed at her feet, surprised at how brief a fight that had been. She brought a hand to her mouth, smearing some of the blood trickling from her nose across her cheek. "That was... unexpected," she conceded, glancing at the other figure... who seemed to just be standing there. She let out a long, hard sigh. "Well. Undead in the streets of this city. It would be churlish to expect you to contribute." She rolled her eyes and ignored the other man's searching of the car and general... spaciness. Bending at the waist to peer down at the corpse's curious wound, her fingers prodded the edges of it. No blood. Curious even for the undead. "It definitely wasn't human!" she said a conversationally.
  6. Search: 1d20+1 3 Searching again: 1d20+1 14
  7. Before Osla could even react there was a fist in her face and in her gut. The draugr was scarily fast and strong, and she was in melee range with it. It was all she could do to bring up her bow, pushing back with it like a quarterstaff as she put a couple of paces between her and the monster. "You think I'm the killer?" she asked incredulously, paying no heed to the man behind her urging them to be sensible and just talk it through. Why would she do that? She was fairly sure her nose was bleeding. "You eat people," she continued incredulously, sounding more weary and confused than anything. Stepping back in, she delivered a quick snap kick to the draugr's stomach to put it off balance, before hitting it open palmed in the face. Only between its face and her palm was an enchanted length of wood, and on her hand gauntlets giving her preternatural strength. Her bow hit the creature in the head with an audible thud.
  8. Toughness save, DC24: 1d20+8 12 So she fails by 12 and is staggered and dazed. I'm not one for using Hero Points on PvP, but honestly... being staggered before we even fight the bad guy is less fun. Reroll, min roll 11: 1d20+8 20 So she's just Bruised and has 2 Hero Points. She will also All-Out Attack for -2/+2, using her Strike on Mister Strix. This will leave her at Defence 18 until her next action. Face punch [DC 23]: 1d20+12 20
  9. Arrowhawk frowned at the new man's approach. This was all too unusual. For one thing, generally people took a telling when she threatened them. Secondly, it seemed a lot of capes had converged on this one spot. Thirdly, things were fogging up and freezing. Taking a sharp breath inwards, she decided to simply the situation. "Elsewhere, you say?" she asked, before a small smile formed on her lips. She swung the bow downwards and let go of the string, the arrow scything towards the white-clad man's knee. She was no Tyr, or John Fraser, but she could certainly shoot a stationary target, and shoot it she did, the arrow penetrating just below the knee joint. "Does there work?"
  10. So. Um. Accurate Attacking for 3: 1d20+14 34 Um. Sorry for critting your PC? DC24 after the -3 DC but +5 crit DC.
  11. I mean, I'm sure if you threw us a roll, we'd give you what we'd give you if we had written a Rep table
  12. Arrowhawk rubbed at her temple, teeth gritted. She'd had gods try to do this to her before. And this... thing... was no Loki. It was there, rummaging through a car. And it looked like it'd done something to Donaghy. The outline looked like a caped man. Another caped crusader? A mob enforcer? He was in all white. A member of one of the supremacist gangs? It didn't matter much to her, she'd need to find out. Either way, Donaghy wasn't getting his money tonight. She stepped off the facade, wind in her face, eyes closing for a moment before she turned, grapnel in hand, smoothly gliding to the pavement at a much more reasonable pace, boots lightly touching the asphalt without very much of a sound. The sound came when she leveled an arrow at the back of the white figure's head, eyes tracing down the wooden haft to the cold, metal head as she sighted. "I can see you."
  13. Notice check, Will save; Stealth check: 1d20+10 19 1d20+9 28 1d20+15 32
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