#lxu

Alexander, Franz, Ulrich, Charlie, Kual-Li, Armelise, Sister Credence, and Victoria...

For once, I am sorry to say that we have accomplished our task. Well, the better part of it at least. Our journey to Camp New Hope came with more questions than revelations. The Major's certainly a vampire. He had a hand in the plague, as expected. He's a damn devil.

And now us four are working for him.

Tilly wasn't there. Some fake doll bearing her likeness was. All full of cotton instead of blood.  Couldn't save here. Nothing there to save. But the Major made us a deal -- head West on some mysterious business, and the reservation would be safe.  No attack would come. Succeed in it, and the good nurse will come home safe with us. Sounds too good to refuse, right? I thought so, at least.

I don't trust the Major. But he's not going to throw away a chance at keeping his hands clean. So this'll buy you some time and save some lives, hopefully.

There was no time for anything more than a letter. I'm sorry. I owe you all more than that. But it's what I could get out to the reservation. I'd taken a liking to sort of leading our merry band, de facto though it was. Ulrich'll do a fine job of it.

We'll see you all soon, out West. We'll get in contact again when we can. If you can't find us, I'll be leaving names with some bars and inns by the railroad stops. Good luck.

And to Travers and Miss Godschild -- I apologize most sincerely for my failure to see my task through. I've no doubt Mr. D’Vries will prove able in carrying my burden.

Regards,

Resident of Ede:  When the army surrendered, you became a ward of the emergent Nazi Empire.  You have been trying your best to survive under the regime of General Weinrich during the nazi occupation of Ede.  As a townsperson, you may take any social skill at trained value with your 15 exp gained. Free specialty in subterfuge. [Note: If you inform on other members of the town, you may gain a resource point.] - This will begin you in Ede.

Member of the Nazi Party:  You have  converted to a member of the Nazi party and are seen as a “worthy” member of the regional power.  Your lower rank, but fluency in Dutch enables you to be a focal point of contact.  As a member of the nazi party, you may take any physical skill at a trained value with your 15 exp gained. Free specialty in firearms. Acquire multi-lingual “German” for free, but it only offers one language. - This will begin you in Ede.

Member of Het Verzet: You are a member of the Resistance and are hoping to gather information for the Allies.  You have heard that “the Mara,” a legendary resistance fighter will soon be in the area and anticipate a great change for your people.  You may take any mental skill at a trained value with your 15 exp gained. Free specialty in politics.  Acquire [Status: Het Verzet I] for free. - This will begin you in Ede.

Member of the United States Army Air Corps: By accident, Jerry shot your Douglas C-47 Skytrain down and you now find yourself in potentially hostile territory. You serve under Lt. Colonel Rutherford “Cotton” Hill and are a member of the 12th Transport Group, known as the Rancheros. You will need to find a way to establish contact with a friendly base and see yourself back to American territory.  You may take any physical skill at a trained value with your 15 exp gained.  Free specialty in drive or firearms. - This will begin you in the forest of Hoge Veluwe.

From our latest Alpha, we now have the full LXU suit usable in-game for our alphas, built from individual parts to be layered as they are acquired. This ultimate-upgraded power suit provides a variety of abilities, which we’ll detail and show off in upcoming posts. In the meantime, don’t forget to read over this month’s developer update, and keep blasting those robots!

Days like this I miss my wife a little more than usual. It’s not when I’m knee deep in blood I’m thinking of her, I find. Maybe it’s because she’d be mad I ruined my good shirt. I miss Lora after I fly off the handle. I’ve never been a composed man. Always caused problems for me. In the ring, in the field, and at home. Yelling, losing sight of things. Punching. Always too much. Couldn’t keep it together. Except when she was there, my guiding light. I try not to romanticize it too much. I know it was me that fucked up. But she was always there for me. 

Now when I get mad I’ve got nowhere to look but inwards. And I don’t like what I see--there’s hate in my gut, far too much for any one man. Hate for what I fight, hate for what I’ve done. Anger at fools that either don’t know better or don’t care to learn. 

Just shit for me to whine about I guess. Need to keep it together. Don’t know why I’m even writing it here, to be honest. Venting, maybe. But I don’t think that’ll change anything. There’s a hole in me somewhere and it’s not from a bullet. Well, it is, really. Just not any of the ones that made it through me.

Sometimes I get to thinking my daughter would have been better off if I was there for her. Then there are days like today, where I shout and bite and claw and don’t know blue from white until I’ve caught my breath. I don’t want her to be angry like me. She can be mad at me, that’s alright, it’s my problem. Not hers. But not like me. Maybe if she hates me she’ll end up like her mother. 

I hope I can see her soon. But I shouldn’t. I should stick to what I know best and leave the rest behind. 

We’re moving soon. Time to get on.

Every time I think I’ve been in the South too long, I get a taste of what Uncle Sam’s finest have to offer. Bounties for scalps. Men, women, and children, doesn’t matter. Or as those good old Union boys might call ‘em -- redskins, squaws, and their spawn. Men are worth the most though. They might be killers. Of course, that just means any bright sorts that want the coin will just have to kill twice as many women. They won’t shed any tears over it..

I keep a brave face(luckily I’ve got a beard to hide most of it), but it makes me sick. All of it. I don’t know if it’s the bloodshed they saw that turns men to such work or the lack of it after the war, but things can’t keep going on like this. Not for the country and not for me. I’ve fought and killed some pretty hideous shit in my time, ended some fucked up careers. Some of it’s made me question this hunt of ours. An abomination here, some poor kid made into a flag there. Time and time again, though, it’s what comes out in men that sickens me the most. 

Monsters were made to be slain. You read it in every tale there is to tell. Knights and dragons, princes and paupers. The beast is vanquished and there’s a happily ever after. Maybe it’s just in their nature to test us. Not that they’re evil, but that they’re doing what they were supposed to. 

But a man with power and the will to abuse it, Hell, that’s an ugly thing. That’s not nature. That’s not something you get warned about in your bedtime stories. The slavers and the killers of the world. Those who’ve seen the light and have cast it aside. 

But I’m rambling. Just one thing to remember. Hunters hunt monsters of all shades. 

I guess that’s how we’ll keep busy in the West. 

Hunters must hunt.

That’s the old adage, right? A sort of motto for the Vigil, unofficial as it may be. Some might think it redundant. Hell, what else is a hunter good for? Lots of things, you could say. Alexander can brew coffee that’ll keep you sharp. Franz is a cultured sort of man, keeps you thinking. Charlie’s got more fight in him as a girl than any hard ass I’ve ever met, and he’ll be the first to back you up in a brawl. Pretty sure Ana Sophia could shoot my beard off for a nice close shave. Ulrich’s got a big fucking sword and some wolf blood. And me, well, I’m the looks of the bunch.

But really, hunting’s the main bit. 

Gets a lot more fucking complicated when you realize your multiple near-death experiences, actual death, and resurrection were just some alternate future. Or past. Doesn’t really matter, come to think of it. Lutrin didn’t cut me down, that house didn’t burn, and I wasn’t brought back. And Lucian sure as hell isn’t down here with us. Guess he got the better end of that deal. See all the fucked up shit that happens when you stick it to an angel and then decide, ‘Ah, shucks, guess I’ll go up after all. You guys can handle all this, toodles.

Maybe that’s not fair. But I’m starting to think fairness stopped mattering a long time ago. What we’re left with is men we’ve gotta cut down, demons we’ve gotta lay low, and promises we’ve gotta break. Whatever’s watching us is aiming to fix the mess we’ve caused, I’d wager. Only thing to do is not let it. And hunt, of course.

After all, it’s what hunters do, right?

Before the second part of War Unending starts up, I wanted to a host a short event series set in the modern era. This will probably be starting shortly after New Years. The party will likely be no larger than 8 players, with preference given to current LxU storytellers. I can’t guarantee everyone will survive the encounters, but characters who do will certainly show up later on.

“Where None Dare.”

It is April, 1989. Three years have passed since the Chernobyl Nuclear Disaster, and in the fallout a city once home to 50,000 is now an empty, radioactive shell. But in recent weeks, NATO intelligence forces have intercepted Soviet communications pointing to a drastic increase in activity. Hundreds of soldiers, vehicles, and supplies are being funneled through the city. There is something in the abandoned ruins of Pripyat that Moscow wants, and it is up to you to find out what.

You are a new recruit of the recently formed Task Force Zulu, a NATO Special Operations Group designated with handling matters deemed too sensitive for any one nation’s operators to handle. Recruited almost exclusively from the military and special forces of NATO member nations, those who pass selection are highly trained and disciplined. As the Task Force’s first major operation, your squadron, Templar One, is being sent to investigate the increased Soviet activity in Pripyat. Discover what awaits you there, defeat whatever stands in your way, and make it out without being discovered.

With the resources of over a dozen nations, the Task Force is exceptionally well trained and equipped. Player characters will start with 50 experience, with everything at trained cost. You will have access to body armor, assault rifles, and an array of equipment to pick from the Task Force armory during the first event. In addition, given the environment the Task Force is infiltrating, radiation will be a major concern. Ensuring that your character’s gas mask remains intact is vital to their survival and long term health.

Armand Marechel was born the heir to a wealthy aristocratic family in the French Third Republic in the year 1894. Raised under the strict tutelage of his father, a diplomat to the German Empire, he was encouraged to study pursuits both intellectual and martial, as fit a young man of his birth. He took to the intricacies of politics and history with aplomb, but where he truly excelled was games of war. Horsemanship, fencing, and tests of puissance occupied the young Armand more and more as he grew with age. He grew to be tall and strong, and in part due to his skill - though much more in part due to his father’s influence, he was made a cuirassier of the Republic at the age of 18. He donned his armor with pride, and spent his time either mastering his craft under peaceful skies or pursuing women and wine with his father’s fortune. 

His call to glory came at the onset of the First World War, when for the last time in France’s storied history brave cuirassiers would make their presence known. In the early days of the war his squadron had been committed to the fighting in Belgium with orders to overtake a German position. As the heavy cavalry charged forth from their lines, they were cut down near systematically by machine guns and rifles that could bring them down before they closed the gap. Only Armand and a handful of others lived to see the enemy position, but their valiant charge had become nothing more than a desperate symbol of a dying type of warfare. Nearly deafened, bloodied, and defeated, the young cuirassier was taken captive. He was ransomed and eventually returned to France thanks to his father’s wealth, but within a year the cavalryman he had trained to be was abandoned by his country. Armand spent the rest of the war serving with various cavalry squadrons, but the prestige and glory he had hoped to know eluded him.

By the war’s end, the wealth of his family was devastated much as France itself was. His father died of an unexpected illness 2 years later, and the failing Marechel estate was put in the hands of Armand. In the years that followed he struggled to pay off wartime debts and return his illustrious family name to prosperity, but to no avail. Eventually, he turned to betting to try and turn his fortunes around. After limited successes, he grew addicted to gambling and lost all that he had fought so hard to keep in a matter of years. By the age of 40, he had lost his estate and was condemned to debtor’s prison. With no coin left to his name, he sought out old friends of his family that might prove to be of assistance. He was unable to gather the money he needed to pay off his debts, but was given an opportunity to flee. So it was that Armand took his old armor, his sword, and his horse, and rode from his ancestral home to an obscure village in the Netherlands where he might start anew.

Settling in Ede in late 1934, Armand was afforded a modest house due to the generosity of an old friend. Bitter about his failure to save his family’s home and disgusted at how gambling had taken hold of him, he spent most of his days reading or drinking in solace. At the outbreak of the second World War, Armand was revitalized by what he viewed as a chance to restore his prestige. When the Netherlands were occupied, he was quick to join the local resistance against Nazi Germany. With a purpose and vision in sight for the first time in many years, Armand now acts with purpose and the resolute demeanor of his youth has returned to him, if only slightly.