Scrubs of M.A.S.K.- A d20 modern shadowchasers storyhour.

[Moe Ronalds]

So, today we began our first adventure of a d20 modern shadowchasers campaign. It was great fun to play, and whether or not it is as enjoyable for you is yet to be seen. If you're not familiar with the shadowchasers campaign setting, it is essentially a modern day setting where monsters exist, but lurk in the shadows. In the standard shadowchasers campaign, psionics does not exist, however I have added them in for a little variety. And now, for the characters.

Sid Koelbel- A young man, of British heritage, Sid has lived in America for a few years. He grew up in the classic English school yard, learning well how to fight and leave his bullies down- though not permenantly. He has a love of visual arts, and has been living as a starving artist in the slums of America for quite some time, trying to sell off his paintings.
Sinking into a pit of depression over his lack of success, he experimented with drugs. This lasted for some time, and during one nearly fatal over dose, he saw into a world which man was not meant to see. When he awoke at the hospital, he found a mysterious tattoo of a circle on his shoulder.

Chris Duncan- The son of a wealthy man, Chris decided not to use his father's wealth for a free ride and earned a temporary living as a construction worker, where he learned about demolitions. Using the money to go to college, Chris is now quite skilled and serves at a call-on techie, at which he makes quite the handsom living. However, perhaps due to his admittedly nerdy (and likely dangerous) interest in explosions, he has chosen to purchase various explosives for study and pyromaniacal outbursts. Despite his perhaps erradic behavior, and compulsive obssession with cleanliness, he is still quite loyal- and has a believe in what is right.

The first adventure was actually the introductory one provided in the book, and began thus...

It was late at night. The heroes were in a city bus, driving through one of the lonlier parts of town. There was a quiet hush, the kind that often came with the pre-dawn hours. Other than a few sleeping or bored passengers and the busdriver, the dimly lit vehicle was empty.
There was a sudden screech of tires, as the bus took a sharp swerve and a stop. The large vehicle nearly tipped over, but crashed into a lightpole and eventually settled upright. As the passengers climbed back into their seats, a few suffering minor injuries, the busdriver stood up and spoke.
"Is everyone alright?" He called out, nervously. "Oh god, there were some people standing out there. Sweet mary I hope I didn't hit any of the-" There was a loud crash as the windshield was broken, and shards of glass flew everywhere. An arm reached through and grabbed the bus driver, pulling him out.
Nervously, several of the passengeres crouched down behind their seats. Sid stood up, his nose bloody, and rushed to the front of the bus. He looked out the remnants of the windshield. Gasping, he saw the rudely battered corpse of the bus driver crumpled in a heap on the concrete.
Before Sid could propperly register this, however, there was a loud bang. He ducked just in time as the bus door went flying above him. Sid rushed into the middle of the aisle, as two dark figures shambled on, growling angrily. Deliberately and persistently, they attempted to plow past Sid.
Sid leapt up, slamming one thug into the chest, sending him flying into the other. As the angry thugs stood, Chris immediately dialed 911 on his cell. Speaking in a hushed whisper so as not to be noticed, he informed the caller. "Help!" He said, hushedly. "We're on the corner of 25th and Holly drive. These two thugs just broke onto our bus, and I think they did something to the driver!"
"We'll help as quickly as we can sir." The operator said. Saying no more, Chris shut off his phone. As he did, he gasped slightly. In the lamplight, he saw the hands of one of the thugs as he stood up. The hand was gray and clammy, and its skin didn't seem to completely cover its fingers. Whatsmore, when it took its hand away from the floor, it left a glistening gray residue behind.

Shocked, Chris's mind immediately leapt into survival mode. Seeing that Sid had been knocked a few feet back by the things, he discreetly took out his pistol- a purchase he had made after he had been mugged a month ago. His hands trembling, Chris took a shot at one of the thugs. He hit the man spot-on in the torso. Greatly to his dismay, however, the man simply turned around, and snarled.
Sid, as he stood up, heard a voice yelling frantically at one of the inhumanly powerful thugs. "Take your hands off me you fiend! My name is Carlos Fuentes, and I am one of the MOST influential laywers in the city! If you harm a hair on my head I swear I'll land you in prison until you're dead and rotten!"
Grunting, the tough brit yelled at the thug frantically to stop, holding out his palm in defiance. The moment he did, he experienced a mind-shattering headache, as the thug was knocked to the ground by some unseen force. Seeing as the thug was now likely knocked out, he looked to the other one, just in time to see it punch a small, nerdy looking man square in the jaw.
Chris grunted at the powerful strike, which left behind the same gray residue that the man left on the floor earlier. Frantically, he dropped his pistol in order to clean himself with a moisty nap. Luckily for him, as he was dropping his guard Sid was dropping the thug with a powerful punch.
As Chris finished cleaning himself, he heard police sirens in the distance. The previously faltering lights chose this time to reassert themselves, and our two heroes looked in horror at whom they had just conquered. The pair of thugs were both riddled with bullet holes- more than Chris had inflicted. Both thugs had rotted skin, and their bones poked out of their skin in odd places. Obviously, they had been long dead.
Chris was busy fighting back nausea, and trying to clean his face doubly fast as a cop came aboard the bus. He looked at the two bodies and the ground, and then to chris and sid. "You two defended these people from the perpetrators?"
Sid nodded. The cop seemed satisfied. "Well, you both have obviously had quite a traumatic experience here. We'll call you in for questioning in a few days. In the mean time, try to get some rest, try and calm your nerves a little. And boy-" He added, looking at Chris, who was still unable to clean the gray residue from his face- "try to stop sweatin' so much. Look like you've seen a ghost."

 

[Moe Ronalds]

Chris grunted the next morning, as he was awoken by the ringing of his phone. He had been up late, struggling to clean the green slime from his face. He had finally managed it, though his skin was slightly grayish now. Chris grabbed the phone, and grunted a hello.
The voice of the speaker on the other end was slightly higher than normal, but was monotone. The speaker spoke fast, but precisely. "Hello Chris Duncan. I am most pleased to be able to speak with you. My name is Winston Stantz and I work with an organization you may be interested in hearing about. I am aware that you and another man last night had a paranormal experience on a city bus. Am I correct in believing this?"
Chris gulped, having hoped he had dreamed about what he saw. He had managed to force the previous nights events from his night by concentrating on cleaning himself up. Having to be reminded of the events, caused him to break for a moisty nap again nervously. "Y-yes." He responded feebily.
"I am both pleased and sorry to hear that. I realize that you are likely still in shock from the previous night's events, but I ask that you attend a meeting with me and the other gentlemen from last night. We will meet this afternoon at three o'clock PM, at the local stop and go. Is this doable for you?"
Silence.
"I will take that as a yes, then. I look forward to our meeting."

Later that day, Chris stepped in. A strange man was speaking with the clerk at the convenience store. A man of average build, wearing a gray sweater. He had black hair and dark eyes, as well as a goatee. Chris knew his name to be Randal Hicks.
The man speaking with Randal was tall and thin, with long fingers that seemed almost as if they had too many joints. He was completely bald, and his age was impossible to place. His temple bulged slightly in his head, and he had a slightly manic grin on his face. He appeared to have a few too many teeth. Sitting near him in the corner, was the man named Sid from the other night, eating Toquitos.
The bald man smiled. "Hello Chris, once again it is good to see you. I am Winston Stantz, the man who called you. Well, let us begin. Randal?"
The clerk nodded, and informed an elderly woman (the only other person in the store) that it was closing time. She nodded, and paid for her items before stepping out. Randal shut the blinds and locked the door, though light from the afternoon sun still shined in. Winston turned towards the two men.
"Now, down to business. I suppose I should wonder where to begin, but this is a speech I have given time and time again. I hope, then, that you are not put off if it seems to be delivered too fast, or too surely. If you have any questions, please stop me at any time. Now, let's begin. I'm sure you're both familiar with the concept of alternate worlds and dimensions, yes?"
"Good episode of the Twilight zone." Sid murmured.
"Yes, however there is one difference. The Twilight zone is Science Fiction. What I speak of is fact. You see, in addition to our world is another world- one of evil, and shadow. Within it lurks every nightmare, every monster, every despicable beast concievable by man. And even a few that mortal minds could never, in a thousand eternities, comprehend.'
'These creatures and forces both exist just beyond our realm. However, just because they are not native to this world does not mean they are unique to it. Your paranormal experience from last night is one example of this. The beast you encountered last night is a monstrosity classified as a Zombie. A mindless mockery of life. As life changing for you as it is, it is certainly nothing unique. In fact, it has become a bit of a cliche. Nonetheless, it is a dangerous cliche. It and others like it could, if unchecked, doom humanity.'
'Which is where we come in. I represent an organization known as M.A.S.K. I know you're about to ask what it stands for but don't- it is unwise. What I can tell you, is that the members of M.A.S.K. are the checkers- we are the ones who keep the threat of the shadow from destroying life as we know it. This is an important job- and one that is always hoping for new workers. You see, the two of you have a rare gift. Most men and women cannot see shadow effects as what they are. They instead see an illusion that the Shadow puts around itself to hide what it really is. A veil, if you will.'
'You my friends, can see beyond that veil. Furthermore, you both have proved yourselves to be proficient both in mind and body. And you Sid, happen to have a VERY powerful gift."
"What would that be?" Sid asked, sarcasm mingled with curiosity and a dash of apprehension.
"I believe another concept with which you are aware is psychic power, yes?"
"I'm familiar with it, yes, but I don't have a terribly convincing jamaican accent I'm afraid."
Winston smiled. "A sense of humor. Very nice. In any case, your power is real. Not a hoax to be used on radio hotlines. And it has the potential to become a potent weapon, with which you can vanquish the shadow!"
"Alright, so you want us to join your organization. What will you be paying us for?"
"Uh... yes... Pay... The interesting thing about that is that we won't really be requiring your services often enough for a steady paycheck. What we're looking for is more... freelance, work. In any case, the shadow is a terrible threat. One that is constantly rearing its ugly head, terrorizing a town with some bizarre creature or cultist, things of this nature. Thus, when such a thread rises, we would need you to... eliminate it."
"I see..." Chris said. "And, if we refuse?"
"Then I am short two agents. The two of you never speak of this again, and now that the shadow knows who you are- you two end up the meal of a ghoul, or perhaps the throw rug of an illithid." Winston responded.
"So you're saying we have no choice?" Chris asked, tentatively.
"In theory, yes. In practice... not really."
Chris sighed. "In that case, I suppose you know my answer."
"Excellent! And you, sid..?"
"Well, even an unsteady paycheck is better than nothing."
Winston smiled. "Most excellent. In that case, I have a job for you two. It seems that the two zombies you dispatched last night have escaped from the local mortuary. I'd like the two of you to find out what you can about them, and what they're after."

 

[Moe Ronalds]

“Hey, Sid, you know that Carlos Fuentes guy?” Chris asked. He and Sid were at the library, looking for information on the zombie attack from earlier. Chris’s skin was excessively soapy, and about a dozen packages of used moisty naps were stacked in a neat pile by his left hand.
“The screaming guy on the bus? Yeah, what about him?”
“Well, apparently he’s made an enemy with Obadiah Falcone.”
“So?”
“Soooo, Obadiah Falcone is a local crime lord. A local crime lord who it seems is financing Wilson’s Mortuary. And, were that not enough, he’s recently lost a couple of gang members whose descriptions match those of the, well, the zombies.”
“Well, it seems to me that our last…” Sid checked a clock, and let out a curse. “Five hours have been well spent.”
“We’re lucky to have found this out. I’m on the last page for this search engine.” Chris replied, clicking the back button. He was about to exit the page, when another site caught his eye. “Well, this is… odd.”
“What is it?”
“Well, I put in a search for the Shadow as well as Carlos Fuentes, you know- just for the hell of it, and I think I may have actually found something meaningful.”
“What!?”
“Yeah. Father Payne’s Realm of Shadow.”
Sid laughed. “Is that all? It’s just probably some stupid 15 year old’s goth web ring or something.”
“You’re probably right, but still it’s worth a shot.” Chris said, clicking the link. The page slowly loaded onto the monitor. It was a fairly low-quality seeming website- something any thirteen year old could probably do. But one of the sections of the page immediately caught Chris’s attention as NOT being something a child would know about.
“Shadow device construction?”
“Probably just some hooplah about making dream catchers. I’m telling you man, it’s a waste of-“
As he was saying this, Chris interrupted having read the loaded page. “No! Look, right here. It has instructions for their ‘patented corpse reanimation unit’. Wow, this is an extensive list of supplies. God you’d have to be a genius even to find half this stuff. Shadow water? Eye of newt?”
“Yeah that’s nice, but look at THAT!” Sid said, now suddenly interested.
“What?”
“Under the header for ‘How to deal with unruly cadavers’.”
“’To deal with a zombie that has gotten out of hand, a blow or shot to the head will take them out for good!’ This is fantastic! Now we can get these suckers once we’ve knocked them down!”
“I’d agree, but it seems untrustworthy, somehow.” Sid warned.
“Why?”
“Well, if they have this up ON THE INTERNET, how are they going to keep this a secret from normal people?”
It was then they heard a gasp behind them. They turned around, too see the normally austere face of the elderly librarian gasping in shock and horror.
“Gentlemen! I know not what sort of perverted web sites you go to on your own time, but while at the library I ask that you keep the content of your window appropriate!”
“Wha-“
“And FURTHERMORE! On a deeper level this offends me! I’m shocked to see two of my patrons looking at something so… vulgar! IMAGINE what her FATHER must think!” And with that, the librarian stomped off.
“What the hell was that about?” Sid whispered.
“The shadow. Winston said it always covers its tracks. I guess that applies on-line as well.” Chris murmured.