Tanus - Hekant Lector/Junker
Quote: "Who are you calling a dog?"
Description/Background: "It all seems like yesterday to me, even after 13 years of surviving in this hell hole the world has become. The day before the end of the world I was a 13 year old boy. I had a Mom and Dad, a kid sister, and an older sister. Hell, I even had a girlfriend for the first time and was really enjoying my life. I remember Mom telling us that she was going to drive us into Coeur d'Alene to go shopping (a fair size city off of Interstate 90 in what used to be the beautiful state of Idaho). We lived in a little town about forty miles north of there called Sandpoint (that used to be up Route 2 if you care). I asked Mom if my girlfriend Mindy could come along, and on that day that all of us still living will always remember, we headed off all happy and healthy for a fun day of shopping in the city. Then of course the bombs fell. I guess I was lucky. We were on our way home up in the hills just out of the city when one of the ghost rock bombs hit about 300 feet in front of us. Yeah, you're looking at the living miracle of what happens when you survive at ground zero in a ghost rock explosion. To make this part of the tale easier I won't go into the horrible details of watching almost everyone I loved vaporized, screaming in agony and terror as body began to be wracked by radiation and mutation. I still feel guilty about surviving and have nightmares about that moment captured so perfectly in my memory. A lot of things happened to me that day, but the one you can see plain as day is that I got changed into this 'jackalman'. I believe it was fate and my strong interest and belief in the old gods of Egypt that kept me alive that day. You remember how kids used to be - they always had hobbies and petty obsessions. Some collected action figures, some were into cars, others movies, video games and the like. I was no different. My thing was Ancient Egypt. I had videos, museum style replicas, posters covering my walls and books galore on the subject. I always dreamed of living among the pharohs and people of that time. My absolute favorite was Anubis, guardian of the underworld. He protected the secrets of life and watched over the paths of the dead. Some higher power must have tapped into these desires as I mutated, because now I look exactly like the diety. I mean, what are the odds of that occuring by accident?
I wandered for days through the countryside around bubbling pits of asphalt and burning forests in a fevered attempt to get home to find my Dad. My glow-wracked mind couldn't think of anything else to do. I found what was left of him four days later at the side of Route 2 - I recognised the still legible vanity plate ('DAD 3') on the front of the slagged Bronco. He apparently burned to death trying to come and find us in town. I saw a lot of that kind of thing as I wandered, and some things even worse that I don't care to mention. I spent a lot of time on the run and hiding from survivors who took one look at my new 'mutie-ness' and opened fire (that's what you get for living in the heart of a survivalist nut area). Even so, it seemed like anyone that had lived had a gun and was shooting someone else to get their stuff.
Those were rough years, and I almost died twice. The first time I managed to get myself cornered by a group of bikers who wanted my beat-up shotgun and ammo. I was never that good with it anyway, but I made sure I used up the ammo on them, killing three in the process. When the rest rolled me, they ripped my cloak off and finally got a good look at me. They all ran off screaming I was a 'terror of the reckoners'. For the record, that's ridiculous. I'm a man same as you and that's all, deep down. The second time was worse, but it changed my life. I was hiding out in the wastes near Butte, Montana when I got caught by a rabid pack of mutie-haters. They told me they were going to put me on trial and hang me for the death of one of their young ones that had been killed by a critter. They were real 'civilized' about the whole thing. I got to plead my case to the 'jury' and everything. They weren't all bad folks and some of them even tried to plead in my defense that there was no proof that I had done anything to the child. Still, I was convicted 6 to 3 and was sentenced to hang. I was all set to die when two strangers came into town.
The strangers told the townsfolk that they had been on the trail of a bloodwolf and had finally caught up to the thing in its lair about five miles south of the town. After killing it they found the remains of a little girl, and they thought they should come through the town and let someone know she was dead, and that the creature that killed her was too. Some of the good folks of the town heard that and wanted to free me, but they were outnumbered by the mutie-haters who said they were going to hang me anyway. Everyone, including the strangers, gathered around as I was led up the makeshift scaffold and the noose was placed around my neck. The man playing executioner asked me if I had any last words. I replied, 'Hell yes, I do!'
'I am not guilty of this horrible crime, and I've never hurt anyone that didn't try to hurt me first. I go to my death with a clear conscience and no doubt in my mind that I will be greeted by Annubis in the afterlife and that he will guide me along the paths of the dead.' I finished my speech by thanking the few good folks who tried to stand up for me. I then told the ones that were killing me for being unlucky enough to have mutated and lived that I forgave them for their prejudice and hoped that they would learn something, perhaps compassion, from my wasted life (pretty eloquent for someone that never finished high school I think).
I stood there listening to the executioner (the town preacher if you can believe it) rant about abominations in the eyes of god and such and waited for the drop. Suddenly, the two strangers lept into action and began to push their way through the crowd. One of them was yelling that he was the last Texas Ranger and that his word was the Law. As he pulled out this old lever action rifle (like the ones in the old western vids Mom and Dad used to watch), he stated plainly that he would not allow an innocent to be killed in front of him. At the same time, the other guy hauled out these two weird clunky looking pistols and said 'Brainer, if'n ya don't want to bury a whole lot more people today, I'd let the wolfee critter go.' The crowd scattered except for the group of mutie-haters, who figured as I did that these two fools weren't going to prevent them from hanging me.
It was the most incredible thing I had ever seen. The guy with the rifle blew four of the mutie-haters away as they went for their guns. The guy with the pistols just smiled and raked the rest of the crowd with his odd, chattering weapons. It was over in seconds, and only the preacher was left standing with me still on the scaffold. He swore at my two saviors and pulled the lever, my world falling out from beneath me. I was dead for sure, I just knew it. Just as I reached the bottom, right before the rope would've snapped my neck, both of them spun and shot the rope. As I hit the dirt, I heard the shots that sent the preacher on to meet his maker. I was then shocked to hear the two of them start up a good-natured argument over who had shot the rope first.
After a few moments they picked me up and took me to a rooming house in the town and got me fed and cleaned up. They said if I left with them that day, they would take me to a place called Sybaris, down near the ruins of Coeur d'Alene. I told them a brief version of my story, and how I never wanted to go back there again. When they realized I was only fifteen, the guy with the weird pistols said that I needed to go there because it was a thriving mutant community. I would be safe there and would be able to grow up to be a good man, surrounded by people who wouldn't hate me because I was different. With a little help of his friend the Ranger, they talked me into it. Along the trail I learned that they were called the Guardian and John Kelly. Strange guys, but likable. On the way to Sybaris (the trip took about two months) they taught me the skills of wilderness survival. When it came time for us to part ways, I didn't want to leave them. They both told me we all had a path to follow and a job to do, and that one day our paths might cross again. It was with a heavy heart that I watched them leave Sybaris - they were the first people since the war that had treated me like a human being.
I settled into life in the city of Sybaris fairly easily, and it was everything that my two friends had told me it would be. I was accepted for what I was, and I finally began to feel a sense of belonging. Eventually I hoped to be accepted into Armana, but I quickly decided that I wanted to do so by becoming a priest. In the early days I stayed with Jerimiah, a Law Dog who oversaw Sybaris (I found out later that Kelly had asked him to watch out for me as a personal favor), and he became like a second father to me. For the next six years I did everything in my power to make myself useful to my fellow mutants in Sybaris, knowing that to become a priest I had to prove myself in servitude and hopefully be nominated as a canidate for the order.
During this time was when I learned how to make things. When I first came to stay in the city, I fell in with an old mechanic named Rusty. While not exactly becoming his apprentice, I did help him make a number of interesting and useful things and found I had an intuitive knack for working with mechanical devices. I soon discovered that old Rusty was a Junker, and that I had somehow picked up some of the skills to be one too. While I've never seemed to have an interest or aptitude for making guns and such, I've found that I'm pretty good at making armor, standard hand to hand weapons and healing devices. Through the years I started to develop a reputation as being a skilled and hardworking member of the community that strived to help both mutant and human alike. I formed a lot of friendships in those days, and I can honestly say that my past was behind me. Although my hard times dealing with the prejudices of being a mutant would always be with me (indeed they helped forge me in the early times), I was proud of who I had become and was looking forward to the future. It was then that I finally received the word that my conduct had been noticed, and I had been approved an audience in Armana.
Once I was led into Armana as a canidate, I felt "complete" - almost like coming home after being away a long, long time. I learned much about the holy city and life of being a Hekant in service to the holy Atum. The obvious Egyptian influence on the religion drew me like a moth to a candle's flame, and I spent the next year of my life completely devoted to the study of how to better myself in the service of Avatar. In addition to my daily duties and devotions, I also spent a good deal of time assisting with the repair and improvement of various devices around the city. I guess being a classic overachiever in school never wore off - I even eventually joined the guards, charged with the service of protecting the city and its environs.
Being a guard encompassed many duties, one of which was performing long range patrol duties in the escort of incoming and outgoing caravans to Sybaris. It was on one of these long rang sorties that I had to stop a fight between two fellow mutants. While accompanying the incoming caravan, a fight broke out between two rather large mutants that were part of the train while we were stopped for a rest. My fellow guardsmen were farther ahead, scouting the way through a narrow pass known for occasional ambushes, and I found myself alone to try to end the dispute. I have no idea what prompted the fight, but the two were obviously trying to kill each other. I tried to intercede, tried to talk them down, but was ignored. One pulled a heavy caliber weapon and opened fire, while the other responded by hastily tossing a grenade at his opponent. The throw was bad, and a nearby truck containing two families nearby exploded in a violent fireball. Bullets sprayed from the mutants gun, but they only served to enrage the other. Flying into a berserker like rage, the second mutant slew two more innocents in a mad dash for another vehicle, from which he grabbed another large firearm. I had no choice. Too many innocents had died already under my protection, and the madness had to stop. Calling upon the divine force of Atum, I threw a fistfull after fistfull of energy bolts at the pair until they finally dropped. While the caravan praised my actions, I had slain two fellow mutants and the guilt laid heavy upon me.
Upon arriving back at Armana I went to the Oracle to ask what my penance would be, even though Avatar himself, though saddened by what had transpired, had personally absolved me of wrongdoing. The Oracle told me that "the ability to prevent the loss of life was within me, if I would only look". At first I didn't understand, but after meditation, I was struck with an epiphany: I would create a power that would stop violence without resorting to it. After nearly another year of prayer and painstaking experimentation, I had developed the power and presented it to Avatar for his approval. The high priests and Avatar himself were so impressed by my efforts that I was invited into the circle, and was apprenticed to become a High Priest. I was even given the singular honor of having the power (Hand of Tanus) named after me.
Its been a long road from 13 year old Jackal Boy to the 26 year old High Priest of Avatar that you see before you. I've learned a lot about myself, my kind and this strange new world we live in. I still keep in touch with Jerimiah and Rusty, and see them whenever I can. With each increase in responsibility, I have thrived for advancement and adventure. In my duties as a High Priest, I have chosen to become a Lector, one of the wandering Holy Men of Armana. Our task is to journey out into the world, traveling among the survivors and learning what has become of the land. We do not preach, for that is not our way. Rather we look for others who share our views, both human and mutant, and spread our message of unity through our actions and deeds. I pray that one day I can help and guide another "lost sheep" like I was towards the path of Atum. To help me on my journey I carry armor and a fighting staff of my own make and design, and have healing devices to supplement the powers of Atum I have at my disposal to help others in need. While reason tells me otherwise, in my heart I hope that I find the animosity between human and mutant has lessened over the years. Only time and my travels will tell. I hope in my journey that I will once again cross paths with John Kelly and the Guardian. It would be good to let them see just how big the little Jackal Boy has grown.
Post Mortem Note: Tanus died in a sacrificial bid to save the rest of his posse from a rampaging Automaton in the ruins of the town of Wickenburg, Arizona.
Corporeal: D: 3d6, N: 2d6, S: 3d12, Q: 4d10, V: 2d10
Shootin Staff: 5d6, Climb: 1d6, Dodge: 2d6, Fightin' Staff: 5d6, Sneak: 1d6, Swimmin': 1d12,
Quickdraw (special - armor/shield activation): 1d10
Mental: C: 1d8, K: 3d12, M: 2d6, S: 1d8, Sp: 4d12
Search: 2d8, Academia Occult: 1d12, Area Knowledge (Idaho/Armana): 2d12, English: 2d12,
Medicine: 2d12, Occult Engineering: 5d12, Professional Sculptor: 1d12, Scuba: 1d12,
Scrounge: 3d8, Leadership: 1d6, Overawe: 1d6, Survival: 1d8, Faith: 6d12, Guts: 4d12
Edges: Arcane Background Junker (3), Arcane Background Hekant (3), Belongings (2),
More Miracles (4), Rad Baby (5), Additional Junker Power (2), Veteran - mutation(0)
Hindrances: Hekant (Ugly as Sin) (5), Enemy - Cult O' Doom (1), Oath - Holy Writs (3), Mutant (1),
Self Righteous (3)
Mutations:
1. Can eat any organic material (+2 on survival rolls while looking for food).
2. Radiation Touch - Any food touched is ruined by rads. Still edible to Tanus,
but anyone else trying must make a TN 9 vigor roll or throw up. Even if they don't,
no nourishment is gained from it.
3. Looks like a jackal, complete with fur and jackal head (-2 to all guts checks and a
-2 habit for eating carrion).
4. Cannot get nourishment from cooked meat, has cats eyes and can see in anything but total
darkness.
5. Super Reflexes - +2 die type to strength and quickness.
6. Glows in the dark (-8 to all sneak rolls in dim light or darkness. Light source equal to candle light).
7. Can breathe under water.
8. Skin and muscle like steel (+1 die type to strength and vigor) except for heels. When hit in legs,
roll 1d6. A roll of 1 equals a heel shot. One wound in this location and Tanus is immobilized -
two or more and he is dead. Also has a -4 modifier to sneak, due to creaking during movement.
9. Fur is green. Only requires water and sunlight to survive. Can regrow lost limbs in 1d4 days.
Likes to be talked to.
Harrowed Power: Marked for Death(1) (red joker - ancient pact)
Lector Powers: Line in the Sand, MIRV, Molecular Cohesion, Tolerance, Touch of the Doomsayer,
Hand of Tanus, Sigil, Geiger Vision
Junker Powers: Armor, Flash Gordon, Healing, Spirit Weapon, Spook Juice, Weaponsmith, Shield
Pace: 10 Wind: 22 Strain: 10
Gear: Armor of Tanus, Staff of Tanus, g-ray collector, small lead lined security box with padlock, tools