Avp Extermination

Ben Black I
aLIENS vs PREDaTOR:
EXtermInatIon
CONTENTS:
Deep Space............................................................................. Page 03
History..................................................................................... Page 05
Story Ideas.............................................................................. Page 07
High Orbit Above Braxis.......................................................... Page 09
Marine
Personnel......................................................................... Page 11
Equipment........................................................................ Page 24
Vehicles............................................................................ Page 30
Infiltration Units................................................................ Page 34
CoNix-Var - the Short Rain..................................................... Page 36
Yautja
Clansmen......................................................................... Page 37
Equipment........................................................................ Page 45
Craft................................................................................. Page 49
The Hive.................................................................................. Page 52
Aliens
Pureblood......................................................................... Page 55
Mutant Strains.................................................................. Page 56
Lazarus Strain.................................................................. Page 62
Braxis World.......................................................................... Page 64
Structures................................................................................ Page 66
Deep Space............................................................................. Page 72
Adventure Seeds..................................................................... Page 74
Deep Space............................................................................. Page 78
Appendix................................................................................. Page 80
Thanks..................................................................................... Page 81
Ben Black II
Deep Space:
Geo-Sync orbIt of BraxIs
Space was ice cold.
Space was a harsh mistress that could take your breath away without a second thought
and leave you an empty, lifeless shell of a man.
Space had a lot in common with Davisons ex-wife.
Goddamn bitch, he muttered, spitting a stream of brown chewing tobacco from the
corner of his mouth and watching it spatter on the deck plate of the bridge. The divorce had
been messy and the settlement figure went heavily against him, leaving him with nothing.
He didnt have any choice other than living beyond his means, and knew he would have to
come up with a solution: so he killed her.
While killing his wife hadnt been his first crime, nor his first murder, it had been the first
time he had been caught. And now he was serving time in the worst way.
It sounded like a sweet deal when the recruiters came around the penal colonies, offering
ways to reduce their sentences. Travel, working with weapons and explosives: it was a
dream come true to any hardened criminal, but a dream that quickly turned to a nightmare.
Fuckin Bugs, he muttered, looking out the plexisteel window at the desolate planet
below him, and the heavy swirling dust clouds that tore at the surface. Years in prison had
left Davison out of touch with the world outside, and while he had heard of the aliens, had
no idea that they were as lethal as they were. Cleanup teams were the norm, now, helping
to clear out hives that were dug-in too much for a normal Marine squad to take out. Despite
the bravado, the meat-head Grunts werent dumb enough to try and wipe out a hive
themselves, and after a few failed experiments and crunching of figures, it was going to
cost the USMC - and their sponsoring companies - millions in manpower and lost equipment.
Training Marines took time and money, while giving convicts basic firearms training and a
quick surgical procedure cost a lot less.
Berserker squads were commonplace, now. Wherever a suspected hive was reported,
there would be a ship with a Marine captain, a registered doctor, a specialised technician
and five or six convicts. The theory was simple enough: one lucky bastard let himself be
caught by the XTs and was pulled into the heart of the hive, and once the beacon he
carried was activated, the heavy guns would roll in and unleash Hell.
The Berserker units themselves didnt normally volunteer - the company volunteered
candidates for the program themselves, the craziest and most blood-thirsty convicts they
could come across, wet-wired into 2 tonnes of armour and weaponry and kept sedated until
it was show time. Though there were rumours of some Marines on the brink of death
volunteering for the program in a bid to taste immortality and unlimited power, though
Davison doubted the truth behind that. The other four convicts would act as a rolling support
team, and any acts of aggression were kept at bay by neurological implants embedded
within their cerebral cortex. Any attempt to turn on another member of the squad resulted in
searing pain, keeping order amongst the chaos.
What you thinking, Smiler?
Davison looked up. He hated the call sign the rest of the team had come up with him. So
he did smile much, big fucking deal! What did he have to smile about? Hed exchanged a
cell on some backwater farming planet in the asshole of the universe for a floating tin coffin
in space with a group of sociopaths as his crew. Hed completed three missions so far,
which made him the veteran of the crew on a par only with The Behemoth, and what had
he gotten so far? Six years taken off his sentence, two per mission. Which meant he only
had another twenty four years to go. Or another twelve missions. Or until he died:
Ben Black III
whichever came first.
He glared uneasily at the other person who sat in the bridge with him, the five-foot man
dubbed Mole. He was one of the lucky bastards in the crew that got to wear the greasy
hood and get pulled into the hive to act as the beacon. If they didnt get there in time, they
would need a new baiter for the next mission.
Just thinking about watching your piggy-little face as it gets pulled into the hive again.
We all have roles: at least I know The Behemoths got my back.
Some fucker has to, Davison said, standing up and stepping closer to the window. His
gaze focused on the mountainous peaks that poked through the surface of the dust storm,
where he knew the potential hive was. Nothing was confirmed in their briefing: but then,
nothing ever was. Everything was always supposition and hearsay, and the reports that the
Marine commander filled in were always confidential, encrypted and sent via secure
transmission to headquarters. Just a shame you have to rely on some psychopath linked up
to a shit-load of explosives and plastic.
Id rather trust him than you or Samson. Milkman and Hacker are just as bad.
Davison didnt say anything, simply lifted his attention to the dark sea of space above the
planet, and the fleet of other craft that were slipping slowly into orbit above the planet.
Whats happening out there? a harsh and demanding voice barked out as someone in
olive-green fatigues stormed onto the bridge and took up a seat by the navigation console.
Harrison was a strict by-the-book officer who didnt take any flack from any of the convicts
aboard the ship.
Looks like some neighbours wanting to join the party. Theres a few Hunter/Killer ships
out there, even a Conestoga-class starship. This one must be big.
If theres even a hive there, reminded Harrison. Nothings confirmed, remember?
Sir, muttered Davison, turning from the window and leaving the bridge. He didnt get on
well with the Marine, and couldnt stand being in the same room with him: the neural
suppresser ached if he thought about inflicting violence on the Marine too much.
He retreated to the bunk room, finding the rest of his fellow squad doing what they
normally did. Samson was working out on the weights bench, grunting with each squatting
movement. Hacker toyed anxiously with his computer tablet, working on god-knew what,
while Milkman dozed lazily on his bunk, muttering incoherently.
We there yet? Hacker asked without looking up.
In orbit now. Theres more Hunter/Killer ships showing up, too. Looks like The Verdugo
isnt the only team called in on this. This must be a big-ass bug-hunt.
Providing there even is a hive, chided Samson, finishing off his reps and mocking the
tone of the commanding Marine.
Squad, this is command, Harrisons voice echoed in the room as the shipwide com
system hissed to life. We have confirmation from mobile command that we can commence
the operation. Everyone suit up and get ready: I need the eggheads in the lower deck to
start thawing out and heating up The Behemoth, get him ready for action. Its a mess down
there, and they need as many as they can. Lets get this ready, dont fuck up on this, and
youll all get your sentence reduced. Triple-time for this, so thats six years a piece!
Fuckin A! Samson shouted, dropping his weights with a deafening clang. Thats the
shit Im talking about!
We have to complete the mission first, reminded Hacker as he powered down his tablet
and pushed it to one side. Milkman, finally roused from his slumber by the announcement,
pulled himself up from the bed.
Dont worry about it, Im on it. Im the Milkman, and I always deliver.
Davison ginned grimly to himself. Maybe his call sign wasnt so bad after all.
Ben Black IV
HISTORY:
Berserkers
The threat of the xenomorphs extended
beyond planetary domination, to a point
where remote mining colonies and deep
space-bound fleets were susceptible to
infestation. Ships inevitably released
lifeboats, more often than not loaded with
alien spores and larvae.
As a countermeasure, quick-response
teams were formed, groups of highly-trained
Marines equipped with state of the art
weaponry to neutralise the threat of the hive
before they spread any further. Early test
runs with Marines proved to be costly, were
whole squads of men and equipment were
lost for ever in the depths of the alien hives,
and the only sure-fire way to eliminate the
threat was to destroy the ship or station that
had been infested.
Even after the incidents on Earth, the alien
was still making life hell for the human race.
That was when the notion of the Berserker
squads were first thought of.
Why waste perfectly good Marines, when
the psychopaths of society could be
enlisted?
Given the chance at reducing their
sentence for each successful mission
completed, convicts from the penal worlds
around the rim territories of the galaxies
signed up for the missions, only to swap one
type of prison for another. The foot squads
had been assembled, and with the criminal
backgrounds of many of the inductees, most
needed little or no training for battle or
weapons: now only the main battle unit
needed to be created; the perfect killing
machine.
From the most psychotic and deranged of
killers locked up in the asylums of the
deepest and most remote prisons, the most
violent were selected for near-immortality as
subjects for the Berserkers. Wired directly
into the hardware of an impenetrable suit of
armour, the men lost their humanity as they
were consumed by the machine, becoming
an unstoppable killing machine that were
able to take down almost entire hives.
This first wave of Berserkers operated by
allowing a team member of the foot squad to
be captured and pulled into a hive, then act
as a locator for the drug-addled MAX
(Mobile Assault Exo-armour), which would
tear through the hive and wipe out the
queen and most of the warriors, leaving
minimum resistance for the remaining foot
soldiers to mop up.
The squads used secondary back-up
devices, in case any lifeboats were
jettisoned: any unauthorised craft would
result in implosion devices around the station
or ship to detonate, wiping out any and all
traces of the alien infestation. The Berserker
squads were primarily used for use in space,
though some planetary skirmishes had been
successful. It was on a very rare occasion
more than one Berserker squad were called
in to work together.
reclamatIon
With events on Braxis World still
unresolved and contact from the planet
sporadic and erratic at best, it was decided
by the powers that be that the situation that
had tried to be resolved through use of
squads of Marines were eligible for the
Berserker treatment.
The size of the facility on Braxis World,
however, was by far one of the largest
infestations since the fall of Earth in the first
Xeno-war.
Seven of the fifteen active Berserker squads
were called in to duty and gathered above
the dead world, planning a full-scale assault
on the rock.
Total destruction of the facility was an
option to be considered only as a last resort:
too much work had been done in the
laboratories there to be lost in the blink of an
explosive nuclear firestorm: but even then
the research grounds of the colony, or what
was left of them, extended deep into the
Ben Black V
caverns beneath the mountains. Even the
heaviest and most intense of orbital nuclear
strikes wouldnt be one hundred percent
effective, even if the preservation of the
facility and its research hadnt been a top
priority.
The facility would have to be flushed with a
Berserker-style enema.
What Lurks Beneath
Weyland Yutani wasnt the only party
interested in reclaiming Braxis as their own.
Though not normally a species interested in
petty squabbles or acts of revenge, the
Yautja set out to conquer the world in order
to uphold their tradition: the galactic hunters
had been seeding that planet for
generations now, and to lose it first to the
hard meat was unforgivable.
Even worse, upon arriving at the planet
and coming across the large-scale fleet that
had assembled above the planet, they
realised they would lose their hunting planet
to the soft meat, who sought to eradicate the
alien infestation. True, upon arrival in orbit
the predators could have opened fire with
the weapons on their cloaked ships and
destroy the humans without a fight... but
where was the sport in that?
Elders of the hunt gathered together on
one of the larger clan ships to discuss their
options. Just as the option of an all-out
nuclear strike was out of the question to the
humans, giving up on the heritage and tales
of combat that came with Braxis was not an
option for the Yautja. The lores of the Hunt
and its sacred traditions were to be
abandoned, instead resorting to the all-out
war and guerilla tactics used when
extracting an ebony matriarch of the Hard
Meat from her hive. Restrictions on
weaponry and protocol were lifted, and only
the most experienced of hunters were
allowed to take part. Looking for a fight with
the unpredictable Soft Meat wasnt normally
permitted, but there were certain loopholes
within the Law that permitted conflict to go
ahead.
The Hunters were to become savage
warlords, confident of their abilities and
unaware of the decimating Berserker units
on their way to Ground Zero.
WInner takes all
With the massive fleet of Berserker units,
military starships and research vessels
massing in orbit around Braxis, it was only a
matter of time before the world was brought
to the attention of one notorious Raider
wanted by the USMC for a number of
suspected assassinations and robberies.
The self-styled General Garbonis, a ruthless
mercenary and former inhabitant of the
demolished Raider base was aware of the
creatures on the planet, and of the potential
for the royal jelly excreted by the governing
queen of the hive. He knew that the turmoil
and fighting that the Berserker units would
bring would make an ideal window of
opportunity for his men to infiltrate the lower
levels of the facility and capture a sample of
the raw material: even more adventurous,
securing a live queen and a potentially
limitless supply of royal jelly.
The rewards for supplying companies such
as Grant Pharmaceuticals or any of their
rivals with the dna-rich matter would be
nothing short of a small fortune; securing a
researcher familiar with the drug-creation
process would be even more advantageous.
All through securing one sample of Jelly.
Braxis: once more the battleground
between a number of species and parties,
each with their own goals in mind. The
Marines, and the extinction of the threat; the
Yautja and the heritage attached to the
planet; Garbonis and the potential billions of
currency behind the procurement of a
source of Jelly.
And the Xenomorph and their Lazarus
counterparts, eager to proliferate.
Ben Black VI
STORY IDEaS
This scenario expands on the third story
idea in the original Lazarus instalment: the
cleanup operation after the original invasion
had ended: it can even take place after the
original scenario if the suggested timeline
was followed.
No one can hear you scream
The original plan to clean up Braxis World
was a complete failure: no two ways about
it. The Aliens overwhelmed the complex,
advancing from their hive, taking hosts and
withdrawing back into the cavernous recess
of their nest. Bodies of the fallen were
claimed by the Lazarus strain; Hunters,
Marines, Colonists, Raiders and Aliens, slain
by one another, each amalgamated into the
Lazarus brood and lying dormant in the dark
depths of the research station.
With tales of the true horror of Braxis from
the few that survived the terror, the USMC
knew what to expect, and knew what would
deal with the infestation the best.
Starting the scenario with the fleet arriving
above the planet, its easy to build the
tension right up to the point of the dropships
touch down on the planet. Dont be afraid to
draw on the second film in the series to give
you ideas about preparing for the combat
drop. Remember, Arcturian Poontang
doesnt matter whether its male or female.
It could be that your squad of Marines
havent encountered a Berserker squad
before, and as such have no idea what to
expect. How would a group of hardened
Marines feel if they were forced to team up
with a misfit crew of convicts trying to reduce
their life sentence by wiping out a few
hives?
ThIs tIme Its War
Once the ships hit the ground, the Marines
can set up a base camp a short distance
away from the research facility. Far enough
not to attract the attention of any hives, but
close enough to be able to jump into an APC
and drive there in fifteen minutes.
Theres a number of things you can throw
at your players in these first few scenarios:
The dropships could come under fire once
they enter the atmosphere: a Yautja craft
tracking the Marines and firing the first shot
in the war. Only a skilful pilot and weapons
officer would be able to take out the small
craft: make them sweat, but dont kill them
straight away. Where would the fun in that
be?
Maybe a couple of Lazarus scouts see the
landing party and unleash an ambush the
minute they touch down, catching the squad
off their guard.
Once the camps been made, the
commanding officers decide its best to wait
until sunrise to advance on the facility.
During the night, a small raiding party of
Yautja attack the facility, or maybe just throw
a couple of spanners into the works.
During the night, a Marine scouting party
comes back from a routine reckon mission
with one member missing. He later turns up,
seemingly fine, a little dazed but otherwise
fine: until hes found in the morning with his
chest ripped open from the inside, and a
potential XT loose in the camp.
A group of Raiders under the command of
General Garbonis approach a squad on
patrol on their own with an interesting
proposition.
Ben Black VII
After the night out in the rocky caverns, the
squad can progress to the next destination:
Braxis Research Station.
The bItch Is back
A relatively quick and quiet journey to the
facility along an open road or a route
through a rocky series of tunnels and gorges
packed with ambushes and traps is up to
you, but the end of the road lies the derelict
research facility.
Upon reaching the facility, there is a
number of options.
The squad could be forced to team up with
a Berserker squad, maybe belonging to the
loudmouthed captain who insulted the
players the night before (or if the players
are part of a Berserker squad, then they
could team up with a Marine squad).
A Yautja War Party could be about to
break into the building: a fire fight between
the hunters and the soldiers can take place,
each relying on whatever heavy ordinance
they may have: APCs against flyers and
plasma weapons.
Lazarus brood could also be waiting.
Or there could be nothing.
Further into the facility, there could be a
number of different hazards to face:
Marauding hunters, prowling Aliens and
killer infected corpses.
A faint signal from within the deepest
depths of the base indicate that there may
be another survivor somewhere.
A party of Raiders looking for an entrance
into the hive.
A swarm of Aliens emerge from their hive
in search for the new hosts they can sense in
the base. The Lazarus brood can also sense
the living people, and go on their own hunt
for expansion of their ranks.
The drugs that control the temper of one of
the Berserker units have stopped working,
leading to a breakdown in its restraints and
an unstoppable killing machine on the
rampage. Intel suggests its heading the way
of the players...
These are just some of the ideas you can
throw at your players, and are by no means
a definitive list.
Ben Black VIII
HIgh orbIt above BraxIs:
The MIdas, Connestoga-class flagshIp:
Garryson stood on the bridge of The Midas, his gaze focused on the fleet of ships that
had assembled above the planet and the small shuttle craft that ferried passengers back and
forth between different ships. Six Hunter/Killer craft poised above the surface, like birds of
prey; their steel stomachs each containing a dormant egg capable of tearing apart an alien
hive. With those six units, and the seventh Marine-class Berserker resting deep in the
bowels of The Midas, there was enough firepower to tear apart the entire planet. The MAX
units werent as advanced as the MOX unit his ship carried, but they were still an
impressive force to be reckoned with. Despite the errors MOX units had encountered in the
past, especially the TodLab LXI incident, they still held a higher success ratio over the MAX
squads.
How long until were ready to start dropping our payloads?
Garryson looked over to one of the officers who attended one of the immense control
panels that lined one side of the bridge, sliding his chair along the length of track that
secured his chair to deck.
Uncertain. The anomalies in the atmosphere are making atmosphere drops somewhat
unpredictable, maybe a little risky.
Anomalies? Garryson murmured, raising an eyebrow and pulling a cigar from his breast
pocket. What anomalies?
Ghost signals in a low orbit beneath us. Its more than likely our own reflections in the
dust storm on the surface.
I think it would have been prudent to advise me of this, Garryson growled, tearing the
soft cloth cap from his head and folding it into his pocket. Anything out of the ordinary
needs to be detailed in reports and submitted to me. Youve read the reports on the last
mission to Braxis, the things that happened there. Anomalies up here could be linked in to
the events down there.
I didnt think it was something I should bother you with...
Ill decide that, snapped Garryson, returning to appraise the viewport. Patch the reports
and feeds through to my datapad.
The tablet that rested in the holder attached to his belt flashed to life, and he slipped it
from the webbing, reading through the text that scrolled down the illuminated screen.
Ghost images, he snorted, shaking his head. Theyre moving independently of us.
Send a probe, try to see if we can get any more details.
The officer nodded and his hands danced over the console, releasing a small robotic
drone from the underside of the Conestoga-class starship and watched as the glowing
engines of the probe vanished off into the distance of space, engulfed by the distance and
darkness that surrounded them.
Details on screen commanded Garryson, stepping back from the view screen and
watching as the photoreactive cells embedded in the viewing port flickered to life, scrolling
with figures and images. Power fluctuations within the anomalies. Take it in for a closer
look, switch to an infrared signature.
The lower portion of the view screen flashed and changed to a blur of colour, an unwieldy
shaped smudge of colour against the blackness of space. A heat signature of something
unseen, moving silently in a low orbit, fluctuated rapidly before the readout from the probe
flashed a bright blue, then died.
What the hell is this? demanded Garryson, spinning to face the pale-faced officer at the
controls of the probe. Bring it back on line, now!
Ben Black IX
I cant do that, hissed the operator, shaking his head. The probes been destroyed.
Reverse thrust, three quarter power. Track those anomalies...
One anomaly closing in on us, sir, reported the weapons officer, looking up from the
glowing console she monitored. Power fluctuations increasing...
Red alert, demanded Garryson, the lights around the bridge dimming to a deep crimson
in colour, casting ghostly shadows where bright light had once fell. Bring the fore and aft
weapon systems on line...
Sir!
The officer previously controlling the probe stood and pointed towards the view screen,
staring in slack-jawed disbelief as the anomaly they had been tracking began to flicker and
waver. Electricity danced in the vacuum of space, washing over the ghostly apparition, and
colours began to swirl and appear in the vortex. Grey, silver and gold, alloys of an
unknown origin blurring into vision. A ship, a bastardisation between a fish and an engine
tube, slowly appeared before the starship, the edges wavering and solidifying into an alien
craft hanging in the void. Bulges on either side of the craft seemed to glow and sparkle,
and Garryson reacted instantly: hed been in enough deep-space battles in his years of
service to know what a D.E.W. looked like while gathering a charge.
Firing solutions, now, he demanded. Forward facing rail cannons, charge and fire.
Release decoy ballast three through seven, evasive actions and brace for impact.
The bridge became alive with a flurry of activity, fingers dancing over the consoles as
commands were input into the system. The craft before them opened up with its weapons,
and blowing blue energy washed over the side of The Midas, ripping open compartments
and shaking the ship violently.
Damage report!
Decks nine and ten, aft section compartments and open. Sealing off, minimal casualties.
Manoeuvrability minimally affected.
Weapons on line, announced the weapons officer. Rail capacitors two hundred forty
percent.
Fire!
A dual streak of glowing yellow tore into the side of the alien craft and punctured the side,
the briefest flicker of an energy shield giving way to the sub-light speed projectiles. The
craft crumbled and imploded in silence, slowly drifting away from the conflict and dropping
towards the out atmosphere, the edges of the craft glowing a deep red as it began to burn
up.
Got you, you alien bastards...
Uh.... sir?
Garryson looked out across the fleet in terror as more of the crafts shimmered into
existence: more of the fish-engine constructions, joined by flattened discs covered with fins
and exhaust ports, and heavy-looking, almost shapeless craft with dorsal fins and fish-
engine craft attached to them.
Bring all weapons on line, Garryson screamed. Launch all ballast and decoys, send a
fleet-wide general alert. Scramble all dropships, prep for ship-to-ship combat. Get those
Berserker units on the dirt, now...
And god help us.
Ben Black X
An extension or the Marine forces, the Berserker squads are mainly comprised of convicts
working to get their sentences reduced through a bizarre and grisly form of community
service. Hunters are normally the more psychotic of prisoners, loud and arrogant, sure of
themselves and their ways. Baiters are normally the more sedate and withdrawn of the
Berserker squads; a history of mental or physical abuse isnt unknown amongst them, as is
the ability to draw themselves into a trancelike state. Pilots of a MAX unit are barely human
before they go in, being locked and sealed in a metallic shell does little for their
demeanour. They can be removed from the MAX units, though what is removed wont last
for very long without the drugs that flood through the system.
MAX technicians are one of the two personnel aboard Hunter/Killer craft that are officially
registered as a Marine, other than the captain in charge of the ship. They spend their times
monitoring the readouts of the MAX units, keeping them under in a permanent stupor until
theyre required for action.
And Garbonis himself...
Ben Black XI
BaIter - InspIred

35 35
12
3 3 4
3 3 4
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
WILLPOWER CONSTITUTION INTELLIGENCE
DEXTERITY PERCEPTION STRENGTH
METAPHYSICS: BLESSING, VISIONS, DIVINE SIGHT
INCREASED ESSENCE POOL (+3)
HONOURABLE (-3)
GIFT (+5)
INSPIRATION (+5)
DRAWBACKS QUALITIES
1 STORYTELLING
2 TRANCE 2 OCCULT KNOWLEDGE 2 NOTICE
2 MYTH AND LEGEND 2 INSTRUCTION 4 HUMANITIES
(THEOLOGY)
3 GUNS (PULSE RIFLE) 2 GUNS (HANDGUN) 3 FIRST AID
SKILLS
Ben Black XII
PERSONaLITY:
Why would I do it? Why sign up to let myself be dragged into a hive in the hope some
dope-fiend in a tin can would come to rescue me?
Because deep in the midst of a hive, in the nursery where I would be placed, so many
souls are lost. So many people; men, women and children, all on the verge of death and a
world away from redemption, from a person able to deliver their last rites.
I first learned of the Berserker program when I was delivering a sermon on one of the
penal colonies in the outer rim worlds, some place where they make the poor bastards slave
over smelting pots for hours over end and not even pay them. I got talking to the one of the
recruitment officers that sat in to one of my services, and he told me of the general plan of
the Berserker scheme, and the role of each person in the squad. Teams of hunters, one
pour tormented soul strapped into a suit of armour, and a final member handing himself
over to the aliens to act as a locator.
It wasnt so much intriguing as disturbing, to hear that live human bait was being used to
track and kill hives of these animals. What kind of person would willingly go into the lions
den amongst the infected hosts and spend an hour watching their final moments?
That night as I slept in my bed, visions of an alien nest swam in my head, human shells
dying without their sins being absolved, their souls lingering in purgatory for the rest of
eternity, until a shining light entered the hive and blessed each one of them. The light was
me.
I found that recruitment officer the next day and signed up. He seemed surprised, and
even more so when I told him I wanted to be a baiter.
God watches over me as Im carried into hive, and in turn I deliver the souls of those
encased in the walls of the alien tomb, those that carry the seed of the demons.
And God helps me when its time for me to smite those demons, and the black whore of
Babylon that produces them. A guiding light for the Berserker, a guiding light for those lost
in the mire, and a guiding light for the bolt of judgement that will strike down from the
heavens and destroy the plague of devils.
Quote:
Rest easy, brother, the Lord welcomes your soul into his arms even though the demons
have defiled your body. You shall be avenged when Leviathan rips through the lair and
pours fire and brimstone into the dark queen.
Equipment:
Lucky M41A Pulse Rifle (blessed object, +1 to targeting tasks) and four magazines
Specialised helmet and mask (Class IV armour)
M3 Personal Armour (Class IC armour) with attached Locator Beacon.
Camo-pattern BDU
M4A3 Pistol and 2 magazines of ammo.
Holy Bible
Ben Black XIII
HUNTER - SurvIvor
57
41
16
20
1 4 3
4 4 4
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
RESISTANCE (PAIN) (+2)
HARD TO KILL (+5)
FAST REACTION TIME (+2)
CONTACTS (CRIMINAL) (+1)
CLOWN (-1)
ATTRACTIVENESS (-1)
ADDICTION CIGARETTES (-1)
DRAWBACKS QUALITIES
1 STREETWISE 2 NOTICE
3 LOCK PICKING 3 INTIMIDATION 2 HANDWEAPON (SHIV)
2 HAGGLING 4 GUNS (CANNON) 3 GAMBLING
1 FIRST AID 1 ESCAPISM 2 DODGE
3 DISGUISE 4 CHEATING 4 BRAWLING
SKILLS
Ben Black XIV
PERSONaLITY:
Stupid, dumb mother fucker.
Thats what my girl said to me when I told her Id signed up to the Team Apeshit. I only
had another fifteen years on my sentence, and she said she was more than happy to wait.
One of my boys, Lil Tommy was looking after her: I knew from my other sources outside
the prison that Tommy was doing more than just looking after her, and Ill be damned if that
bitch thought I was going to be sitting around stewing in a prison for another fifteen years
while she screwed around with my second-in-commanded and pissed my entire legacy
away, and that wasnt even the worst of it.
Plus, on top of all that shit, if I stayed in my cell on that dirt-ball planet, Id have to be
constantly looking over my shoulder. Every fucker had their own shiv, and they were
always looking to make someone their bitch; the higher up the food chain, the better. I
wasnt the biggest fish, not by a long shot, but I wasnt far off the upper echelon of the
prisoners. Jesus, if they even thought for one second I was Quixante, the Raider
responsible for the sacking and pillaging of almost fifty Eden-class settler ships and worth a
small fortune, I wouldve been stabbed in the back sooner rather than later. Whichever
bastard pulled that off would be set for life, until some young upstart wanted to increase his
own stature. Thats the way it worked in the prison system. It was basic, but it worked.
So I signed on to the Berserker squads. Ive still got to watch my back, but then I always
have, and at least now Ive got a fully automatic weapon to protect myself, and not a piece
of filed metal that I keep under my pillow.
Yeah, Ill fly a few missions with my squad, reduce my sentence. Me and the rest of the
hunters, going in and saving that damn preacher every time he gets his ass caught by the
bugs. Pretty soon Ill be back on my own personal asteroid, flush that bastard Tommy out
the nearest airlock, then have a long talk with my old lady.
Ive got some very powerful friends: Hell, one of the other bastards in the squad aboard
The Verdugo heres doing time because he killed his wife, Im sure he can give me some
hints and tips. Maybe she might end up beside a Baiter one day...
Thatll teach that bitch for selling me out.
She thinks I dont know...
Quote:
Look at that bitch - drooling, oozing pus and mucus. Stinks of shit, too, that last thing I
want to do is wake up looking at that disgusting face filled with teeth. Anyway, youve seen
enough pictures of my wife, is that picture your kid?
Equipment:
M63 Pulse Cannon Mk. 2 & three drums of ammo
Combat rig
Flash-Guard darkened lenses
Headset & Uplink pack
Camo-pattern BDU Trousers
Heat-reflecting T-shirt.
M41A Pulse Rifle & 3 magazines of ammo
Klassic Aurora Assault Rifle & 2 magazines of ammo
M4A3 Pistol and 2 magazines of ammo.
Ben Black XV
MaX PILOT - NORM
8
32 14
30
1 1 1
3 3 5
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
STATUS (+2)
ADDICTION (DRUGS MIX) (-7) NERVES OF STEEL (+3)
DRAWBACKS QUALITIES
2 DODGE
5 THROWING (SPHERE) 5 GUNS (GRENADE L.) 5 GUNS (FLAMER)
5 GUNS (CANNON) 4 DEMOLITIONS 4 BRAWLING
SKILLS
Ben Black XVI
PERSONaLITY:
Black.
Sleep.
Peaceful, ethereal.
Dreamless.
I see nothing, a never-ending deluge and darkness that clouds my senses.
A man lost in a hulk of iron and steel, inert and lifeless, until...
SYSTEMS ENGAGED: ADRENAL FLOW SYSTEMS ONLINE
DEFIBRILLATION: 3 2 1
FIRE!
Washing through my body, cutting through veins and arteries like molten metal. I shudder,
I ache... I yearn.
MUSCULAR STIMULANTS ENGAGED
I move.
Bulkheads tear apart beneath me, weapons scream to be discharged.
MOVEMENT DETECTED AHEAD
And they come.
One blackness changed for another, a wall of silver teeth, black carapace, acidic spittle
and drool. The rush towards me just as I rush towards them, our mouths open, screaming as
one. Their talons clatter and spark against my metal skin, my weapons click and whir. The
ghost in the machine takes over once more.
TARGETS ACQUIRED
THREAT ANALYSIS SYSTEM ONLINE
WEAPONS SYSTEMS ACTIVATED:
TARGET RANGE 300 M: PULSE CANNON ENGAGE.
firefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefire
The creatures crack apart, shells rupture and virulent blood sprays across me. I feel the
caustic burn.
ACID NEUTRALISING SYSTEMS: ENGAGED
THREAT ANALYSIS: TARGETS 100 M: INCENDIARY MEASURES ENGAGE
firefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefire
They burn. I burn, too, an unbearable pain that sears my flesh.
MORPHINE DOSAGE: MAXIMUM +
ADRENALINE CAPACITY: 300%
SYSTEMS CRITICAL: OVERLOAD CRITICAL
My vision is red, my eyes cant see, my ears dont hear. The shell around me dances and
gyrates, destroys anything that falls in its path, I know nothing but destruction and death.
HIVE DESTROYED: QUEEN TERMINATED
ALL SYSTEMS : REDLINE: DEACTIVATE
CHEMICAL FLUSH
Sleep.
Black.
Quote:
...
Equipment:
MAX or MOX armour unit
Recharge Station
Supply of tranquillisers and stimulants
Ben Black XVII
MaX TECHNICIaN - NORM
23 14
8 26
2 2 4
2 2 2
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
HUMOURLESS (-1)
COWARDLY (-1)
CHARISMA (+2)
ATTRACTIVENESS (+2)
PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY (+2)
DRAWBACKS QUALITIES
2 SCIENCES (MATH)
3 RESEARCH 2 NOTICE 3 GUNS (HANDGUN)
5 ENGINEER (MECH) 2 ELECTRONICS 3 COMPUTERS
4 COMPUTER PROG. 4 COMPUTER HACKING 2 BUREAUCRACY
SKILLS
Ben Black XVIII
PERSONaLITY:
I didnt spend three years in Marine-Tech to baby-sit what amounts to a chem-head in a
tin suit. I enrolled to design starships, build weapons and systems that would amaze and
astound.
Instead, I sit and watch EKGs, monitor power spikes, keep the creature that lurks inside in
a permanent stupor. They pulled me from my training program - they said they pulled the
most promising for an advanced program. I heard rumours they pulled the first sixteen
people that came in through the door. They gave me the most basic of combat training,
which was along the lines of which end of the gun to point at someone and how to reload,
then went about the process of monitoring the units they called Berserkers.
And they didnt pull any punches.
They showed us the holo-vids of the first person to monitor a Berserker, what happened
when the poor bastard inside started dreaming, how long it took for them take down the
Berserker and how long it took to clean the insides of the technician from the walls. Thats
when I figured that didnt show us how to use the gun for our protection, but in case we
had to turn it on ourselves.
Trained up, they shipped us out to different ships, the old ETTC models, and shipped us
out. One of the younger kids, a guy called Jesse, was so damned excited as he ran off to
get on the Nemesis. Last I heard, he vanished in deep space some place, his Berserker
dying in the middle of a nest raid. They do that, though. Like the engine of an APC or the
jets of the dropship, they just wear out and need to be replaced. Sometimes they get
pushed too far.
As for me, Im stuck on The Verdugo with a bunch of crims and a deluded priest, looking
after the unit theyve all dubbed as The Behemoth, and making sure that when they need
the big guns, hes ready to roll.
Quote:
Roger that, the cuckoo is in the nest. Adrenaline administered, systems on line...
gentlemen, we have all systems go with the Berserker, unit is combat ready. Stand back
and let Behemoth do his job.
Equipment:
MAX unit
Access to Berserker systems.
M4A3 Pistol & 4 magazines of ammo.
Camo-pattern Combat BDUs
Headset
Access codes for UD-57A APS
Ben Black XIX
Bounty Hunter - SURVIVOR
41 20
14 65
3 5 3
2 2 5
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
SECRET (-2)
RESOURCES (+2)
RECURRING NIGHTMARES (-1)
MINORITY (-1)
HARD TO KILL (+5)
FAST REACTION (+2)
ACCUTE SIGHT (+2)
DRAWBACKS QUALITIES
2 PILOTING (SHIP) 3 2 THROWING (SPHERE)
2 SURVIVAL (ALIEN
HIVE)
3 NOTICE 3 HAND WEAPON
(BLADE)
1 HAGGLING 3 GUNS (LAUNCER) 2 GUNS (CANNONS)
3 GUNS (RIFLES) 3 FIRST AID 2 DODGE
3 DEMOLITIONS 2 CLIMBING 3 BRAWLING
SKILLS
Ben Black XX
PERSONaLITY:
I dont remember anything about the period of my life before waking up. I dont
remember floating in the midst of space, the enclosed shell of the MOX suit feeding me
oxygen and keeping me safe in a suspended hibernation. I dont remember being picked
up by a deep space salvage crew. I dont remember going through months of recuperation
aboard The Alexis, some special Marine medical frigate that gave me a set of new cloned
eyes - apparently, theyd been burned up by acid spray. They said Id been part of a
Berserker squad that had been all but obliterated in a nuclear explosion, something called a
baiter survived the ordeal but died not long after. I was effectively reprogrammed and
rehabilitated. A new ID, a few hundred coin to my name. And that was it. So many years
of service, I think, blowing away bugs and nests. And I dont remember a thing.
My first real memory is leaving the frigate when it had docked with Ashford Station. I left,
but with the meagre money I had I wasnt going to survive long. I was drowning my sorrows
in one of the bars on the lower levels when something happened, I dont know what, but
there were bugs that just appeared. Maybe an infested cargo ship in dry dock, I dont
know. The entire station went tits up, everything went to hell.
Thats when I discovered they didnt reprogram me as much as they thought I had. Some
remnants of the MOX programming kicked in, and I moved. I found a gun - I dont know if
I stole it from a fleeing soldier or if I pulled it from a dead body - and opened up.
By the time the Marines pulled their fingers out their asses and swooped into action, Id
cleaned up the lower levels, saved around fifty people, and was on my way off the station
in a stolen cargo hauler that turned out to belong to a Raider, and had a stock of weapons
and supplies that would fetch me a hell of a lot of cash.
Until I realised there was a lot more I could do.
As I travelled, I learned that not all alien infestations received the Berserker treatment,
some didnt get so much as a fleeting visit from a grunt, and the local authorities of the
minor colonies offered substantial rewards for anyone that could help clear the bug nests.
Who better than an retired Berserker?
And damn, if the money didnt just roll in after that. It wasnt just local councils, it was
companies like Grant Pharmaceuticals that paid a small fortune to retrieve samples and
specimens.
So Im kinda like a freelance Berserker, without the armour and drugs, but just as much
weaponry. I go where the work is, and Im not afraid to pull the odd trophy from a
particularly tough job. But there isnt anything wrong with that, right? If I look the part, Im
more likely to get the job...
Quote:
Can I handle the job? I pulled this off the face of a Queen, had to prise open the jaws
with a knife made from an Alien tail to cut through the muscles. Ever seen anyone else
wearing the jaw of a Queen as a necklace? Yeah, I think I can handle the job.
Equipment:
Styx Cargo Hauler
Large cache of weapons
Alien trophies attached to leather jacket
Stinger modified blade D6 x Strength slashing, 1 dose Curare per hit (AFMBE page 107)
Eye protectors
Ben Black XXI
GENERaL GaRBONIS - SurvIvor
47
32 20
12
3 4 5
2 3 3
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
RESOURCES (+5)
HARD TO KILL (+3)
CRUEL (-3)
CONTACTS (+4)
ADVERSARY (GOVERNMENT) (-5)
ADDICTION (-1)
DRAWBACKS QUALITIES
2 STREETWISE 3 SMOOTH TALKING 2 QUESTIONING
2 PICK POCKET 4 INTIMDATION 3 INSTRUCTION
3 HAGGLING 3 GUNS (HANDGUN) 4 GAMBLING
4 CHEATING 2 BUREAUCRACY 3 BRAWLING
SKILLS
Ben Black XXII
PERSONaLITY:
The raider base wasnt a fantastic piece of architecture by a long shot. Before the planet
was given an atmo-con, you had to wear a pressure suit practically all the time. It was more
or less just a bunch of plastic tubes linking ships together. But that was our base, before all
the bugs and the invisible hunters and the rescue party that barely survived.
Soon as the shit hit the fan, I was out of there. Touched off in my bloodwing, returned to
my orbiting cargo ship, and sat it out, watched the entire thing from orbit. Watched fellow
raiders die. Watched part of the base blow up. Thats when I realised, the man called
Garbonis died down there, and the General you see before you know was born. I knew the
bugs would win - they were like cockroaches, a malignant disease that can never be killed.
And I knew enough about the bugs to know that they were worth a fortune, alive or dead.
But I needed money to make money, and what I planned couldnt be pulled off easily.
You see, theres this millionaire, goes by the name of Grant, spends billions in alien
research a year. I knew that if I could secure something from that world gone bad, I could
cash in. Braxis World, bullshit, its Garbonis world. But Id need resources.
I started out small, hitting other cargo ships first , then building up to Marine outposts and
larger convoys, all the time bolstering my forces with more crew and more supplies.
Eventually hitting a Colony Settler ship, military entourage and all, and I traded in my cargo
freighter for a Conestoga starship, contents and all. I sold off the Celestial-class ship for
close to one hundred million, which was enough to pay for the additional resources and
crew I needed for my assault.
And now, in the midst of the renewed battle on the surface, we can strike. The aliens, the
mutants I knew that exist from the files I managed to secure from an inside source.
Marines, Berserkers, and the invisible killers... Hell has been unleashed down there, but
because I know that place down there like the back of my hand, I think we can sneak in,
secure jelly and specimens, and sneak out with minimal contact from any third party.
Then Ill speak to Grant, show him what I have and what I can get, and not leave until I
have a guaranteed income of 2 billion per quarter.
And shares. I need some legitimacy to my front.
Quote:
The war wages on, and in the midst of the confusion, well take what we want and reap
the benefits. Glory and fortune awaits, gentlemen.
Equipment:
The Garbonis Conestoga-class starship
Fleet of modified Styx Cargo Haulers and Bloodwings.
Large and expansive armoury,
Small Fortune
Large crew and followers.
Ben Black XXIII
MAX- MobIle Assault eXoskeleton:
A humanoid construction, hollow inside and able to accommodate one Berserker operator,
the MAX is essentially a tank worn by a delusional convict kept alive by a deadly mix of
steroids, adrenaline and stimulants. Able to reach speeds up to thirty miles an hour, the
MAX weighs in at a little under two metric tonnes and is able to hold its own in a fight,
whether melee or in a gunfight. Built and designed around the rumours of two successful
encounters between the Alien and Humans operating power loaders, the MAX Berserker
units are coated in a thick layer of acid resistant alloy and are able to run for up to forty
eight hours on a single charge supplied by their mobile base units. Able to switch their users
in the middle of an operation should the core body die, these suits can also be used by an
unprepared operator at a great cost to their sanity. Should anyone attempt this, they need
to pass a difficult willpower task for each action they attempt to take: five consecutive
failures will mean the suit has taken control of them. Beyond this, the only way a MAX
operator can be retrieved from this is through a long and slow rehabilitation process which
may only be available in the most advanced medical frigates.
MAX: Mobile Assault eXoskeleton.
600 120+(D10x4) (160) AV DC
Operator Base Value x 6
30 MPH
Operator Base Value + 6
Operator Base Value - 3
Strength
Speed
Perception
Willpower
3,000 rounds
3 minutes continuous use
30 Cannister Rounds
25MM Pulse Cannon
Tricapacity Flamethrower
40MM Grenade Launcher
D8x5+10 (50) (AP,HP)
D6x2 (Fire Damage)
D8x8 (32) Cannister Rounds
25MM Pulse Cannon
25MM Pulse Cannon
10/200/450/800/1700
4/10/20/40/65
3/10/15/20/30
RARE Availability
$ 25,000,000.00 Cost:
Augments:
Capacity:
Damage:
Range:
Ben Black XXIV
MOX- MobIle OffensIve eXoskeleton:
If the MAX unit were a civilian unit, then the MOX would certainly be the Marine
equivalent. Packing superior firepower and a wider array of weaponry, the MOX works on
a similar principle, only instead of the operator wearing the suit, he or she is curled into
more of a foetal position within a heavily armoured egg construction in the centre of the
machine. The ultimate cybernetic organism, it is a lot harder to open or close, but the
integration/ resistance procedure follows the same rules. The alloy of the armour is
stronger, too, able to resist masses of acid exposure; even more so with the acid-
neautralising content of the 25mm shells. Stronger and able to reach speeds of forty five
miles an hour, this machine is piloted by a Marine volunteer, under the impression that a
trained Berserker would be able to follow some semblance of order while under the drug-
induced red haze. The theory didnt pan out: in fact, a trained killer only made a more
violent and unrestrained Berserker. MOX units are rarer than the MAX, and are only used
in extreme cases on infestation.
MOX: Mobile Offensive eXoskeleton.
750 200+(D10x4) (240) AV DC
Operator Base Value x7
45 MPH
Operator Base Value +7
Operator Base Value -2
Strength
Speed
Perception
Willpower
5,000 rounds
50 mix Grenades - Bounding
frag, Phosphor & Cannister
150 Charges
10 Grenades
25MM Rapid Pulse Vulcan
Cannon
Quad-Tank Flamethrower
40MM Cyclic Grenade
Launcher
Crowd Control Cattleprod
Thermite Hand Grenades
D10x5+10 (60) (AP,HP)
D8x2 (Fire Damage)
Dependant on grenade type-
see Lazarus supplement
D12x10 (60) (Electrical)
See Table (below).
Cannon
40MM Cyclic Grenade
Launcher
Cannon
40MM Cyclic Grenade
Launcher
15/300/550/1200/1800
6/15/25/50/80
10/50/180/300/400 (Unless
noted otherwise)
Point-blank melee
VERY RARE Availability
$ 100,000,000.00 Cost:
Augments:
Capacity:
Damage:
Range:
D6x10 (30)
D6x8 (24)
D6x3 (9) 10
6
2
Max. Range:
Gen. Effect:
Ground Zero:
Ben Black XXV
M63 Pulse Cannon mk. 2:
A hybrid between the standard design of the M41A and M56, the M63 Pulse Cannon is
worn and carried in much the same fashion as the Smartgun, but takes the same
ammunition as the carbine weapon. With a greater firing rate and an enhanced targeting
computer with an automatic cut-off feature to prevent friendly casualties, the Pulse Cannon
is a formidable weapon, though still remains in the experimental stages and hasnt officially
been released in the military. As such, the weapon is normally in use by the MAX squads
which are thought of by many officials within the USMC as expendable. The targeting
computer adds +3 to targeting tasks, and is less glitchy than the Smartgun predecessor.
VERY RARE (Experimental) Availability
$ 80,000 per unit Cost:
30/15 Encumbrance
Value:
500 rounds per drum (also requires a DV9 Lithium
battery, good for 20,000 rounds).
D6 x 5 +5 (35)
Capacity:
Damage:
15/300/750/1250/2100 Range:
XP3 Wolven Soundcannon:
Designed by scientists who needed to incapacitate alien drones without damaging their
bodies or killing them, the Soundcannon operates on a subsonic level that attacks the
sensory organs the alien uses for navigation and communication. With neither of these
senses working, the drone finds itself alone from the hive and in an environment it is
unfamiliar with. Confused and disorientated, the drone can then be hauled off for study.
While the cone of fire from the weapon it can be used against a number of drones at the
same time, continued use for longer than three seconds at any one time can bring the
weapon to critical limits, and reduces the effectiveness of the weapon. Any longer than five
seconds results in the explosive self-destruction of the weapon. This weapon was first used
successfully in Charon Base.
RARE Availability
20/10 Encumbrance
Value:
15 seconds of cumulative use, rechargable power
cell built in.
N/A - Stuns Alien for D12 turns per second of use.
Capacity:
Damage:
50 Range:
75
30
3
Max. Range
General Effect
Ground Zero
Self-Destruction Damage
D12 x 5 + 100 (130)
D12 x 10 + 200 (260)
D12 x 20 + 300(420)
Ben Black XXVI
M49A Pulse assault:
Another weapon used in the Charon Base before being widely distributed amongst other
colony worlds. A heavy assault variant of the M41A Pulse Rifle, the M49A is a high-
capacity, rapid fire assault weapon used primarily by forces operating in pressurised
environments. Using a softer round without the armour piercing properties of the Pulse Rifle
rounds, the M49A fires using the same electrical pulse system and the same battery cell.
Able to operate in a vacuum environment, it is capable of penetrating most classes of body
armour, but lacks the power to punch through any bulkheads or reinforced glass. The
weapon also has an underslung grenade launcher, though use of the high explosive
grenades are rarely authorised in such areas.
UNCOMMON Availability
7/14 Encumbrance
Value:
150 Rounds per magazine
DV9 Lithium Battery
3 Grenades in internal tube magazine
Rifle: D6 x 5 (Hollowpoint damage)
Grenade Launcher: as grenades
Capacity:
Damage:
10/200/450/800/1700 Range:
Charon-tech Net Gun:
The third piece of technology to originate from Charon, the Net Gun fires a tazer web
over the target. Nothing fancy, no additional bells or whistles on it: a web of hyper-
conductive webbing and wiring that is able to engulf an adult warrior Alien and subdue it,
immobilising the subject indefinitely providing the tazer web is not removed from the power
source.
KLa Plasma Cannon:
A more portable version of the PIG, the KLA is a bulky weapon that combines battery and
weapon into one unwieldy construction. Requiring both hands to operate, this weapon can
cut through the and hull of most light craft, making light work on infantry targets. While the
weapon can be used in an airless environment, the power and effectiveness of the weapon
is effectively halved. These weapons are normally kept in high-risk bases that are positioned
adjacent large hive structures. Unlike the PIG, it doesnt use pellets when firing; instead it
concentrates its power on ionising the gases within its chamber before firing.
UNCOMMON Availability
18/9 Encumbrance
Value:
40 x 0.5 second bursts
(D8 x 10) + 10 (50) (Armour Piercing)
Capacity:
Damage:
10/40/150/400/800 Range:
Ben Black XXVII
Pheromone Belt
Walking amongst the aliens unarmed is akin to smearing yourself with bloodied raw meat
and walking amongst lions. Before the invention of the pheromone belts, only the crazed
religious fanatics of the willingly walked amongst the aliens. The belt, a product from the
early research into infiltration, releases an oily, acrid scent that renders the wearer invisible
to the hive. The belt is disposable, and lasts for approximately 30 minutes before running
out. While the belt can mask out one human, it can not work on two, and an overwhelming
number of aliens will detect the intruder quicker than 30 minutes. If the person wearing the
pheromone belt is carrying or has Xeno-Xip or Zeno-Zip in their system, the belt is rendered
ineffective.
Xeno-XIp(expanded rules)
While not a weapon strictly speaking, this natural product produced by the mother of an
Alien hive is issued to many soldiers on long tours of duty in the form of tablets. More
powerful than a hundred high-strength caffeine pills, one tablet of processed Royal Jelly
can increase all the primary aspects of the user by 2, heightening their strength and
perception, and increasing all their secondary attributes accordingly. The effects of each
tablet can last for D12x3(18) minutes, and afterwards, the user must rest for an hour to
recuperate from the massive strain that the body has been though. Another tablet can be
taken before this rest period has expired, but this will result in a 1 in 10 chance of a
massive heart attack, causing instant death. A third pill would increase the chance to 2 in
10, a fourth to 3 in ten, and so on.
Every one in one hundred humans can show adverse reactions to Xeno-Xip, ranging from
mild to severe headaches, nausea, periods of unconsciousness or blacking out, bouts of
psychotic and violent behaviour up to instant heart failure or braindeath. To see if a
character has an allergic reaction to this drug, roll 2 x D10 - a roll of two 9s on the dice
means he or she has an allergy, and the side affects are up to the Zombie Master to
decide. It is also up to the ZM to decide whether the person with the allergy knows they are
allergic or not.
Xeno-Xip is a narcotic substance controlled by the USMC, and can only be distributed by
the Marines or a high ranking Surgeon to aid recuperation. Crates of this substance can
often go missing from high security storage facilities, and normally find their way into the
cargo holds of Raiders craft to be sold on the black market.
The pheromones given off from Xeno-Xip within an Alien hive environment will attract D4
Aliens per minute, until the Jelly is either destroyed or sealed away in an airtight container.
Ben Black XXVIII
Zeno-ZIp
A natural by-product of the Alien gone wrong, Tainted Zeno-zip (notice the different
spelling to the original Xeno-Xip) is a product made from jelly extracted from the Lazarus-
infected queen. While the true strain of Royal Jelly increases the primary aspects of the
user, Zeno-zip helps to increase the strength and constitution, but lower the intelligence and
willpower, slowly introducing DNA from the Lazarus strain into the taker. If sufficient
quantities of Zeno-zip are ingested, the user will eventually turn into the Lazarus Spawn as
the parasite forms in the spine.
Pheromones from this product are trackable by normal and spawn Aliens alike, bringing a
fit of rage to the organic aliens and a sense of camaraderie to the Lazarus-infected.
While pills of this type may not be available widely on the black market, Garbonis may
have unknowingly managed to acquire a small sample of tainted jelly and flooded the local
system with the bad medicine: This could lead to a number of Lazarus-infected addicts
appearing on other colonies.
Because of the parasitic and metabolism-changing qualities of the drug, this will not bring
about any adverse side affects anyone with an allergy to Xeno-Xip.
aCID-ResIstant armour
Developed by Grant Pharmaceutical during the excursion to one of the proposed Alien
Home worlds on a mission to obtain a pure source of Royal Jelly, this heavy and
cumbersome suit of armour provides Mark IV protection all over the users entire body, and
also quarters the damage taken from acid or other chemicals: even full immersion. Because
of the cumbersome nature of the suit, anyone wearing the equipment suffers a penalty of -2
to dexterity (to a minimum level of 1), and the user must have a strength score of 3 to wear
it. Endurance is also lost at twice the normal rate.
Ben Black XXIX
UD-57a aPS
armoured Personel Shuttlecraft
RARE
$ 34,000,000
6
75 + (D10 x 2)
3
3
800
100
Mach 12/Mach 4
420 43,000
Availability
Cost
Accuracy
AV
DC
Handling
Toughness
Range
Acceleration
Speed
Weight
Armament:
20 mm Gatling Cannon (x2) & 1,700 rounds (HEAP)
- D6 x 10 (30) - 20/50/150/300/900
AGM-220C Hellhound II (x6)
AGM-204A TSAM Threat Suppression Missiles (x3)
AIM-90E Headlock Air-to-Air Missiles (x3)
A bastardisation of the APC and Dropship, the APS is a relatively long range transportation
craft used primarily by H/K Berserker squads to get their cybernetic warrior into position.
Armed with several weapons, though not as much as a normal Military vehicle, the APS is a
versatile craft, and because of the space inside, is often used when ferrying company
executives between orbital platforms. Its wheels are capable of folding in on itself,
improving the aerodynamics of the vehicle to some extent.
Ben Black XXX
Hunter/KIller -
ELIte Test Team Cruiser Craft
VERY RARE
$ 2.8 Billion
8
300 + (D10 x 10)
6
8
6 months of travel
40 km/second
FTL/0.5 Light years/day
7,000 53,000
Availability
Cost
Accuracy
AV
DC
Handling
Toughness
Range
Acceleration
Speed
Weight
Armament:
Front mounted Laser Turrets (x2)
Dual Mass Driver
An model of craft that never actually left the production lines , the ETTC craft were designed
to fit a gap between a military supply ship and a Conestoga-class starship, providing plenty
of cargo space and support at half the cost. Initial test flights proved it to be more costly that
originally anticipated, and the line was pulled before being rolled out into the shipping
lanes. With the advent of the Berserker squads and their introduction into the services, they
were in need of a reliable craft to travel between infestations, and the ETTC was pulled
back off the back burner and reinstated. Able to accommodate the weaponry and
equipment required for the MAX units and the crew required to run the hunt/kill missions,
this craft is often equipped with at least two UD-57A APS craft.
Ben Black XXXI
BloodWIng
VERY RARE
$ 70,000,000
5
75 + (D10 x 2)
3
6
500
130
Mach 12/Mach 4
550 37,240
Availability
Cost
Accuracy
AV
DC
Handling
Toughness
Range
Acceleration
Speed
Weight
Armament:
25 mm Gatling Gun & 900 Rounds D12 x 10 (60) 10/50/300/1000/2500
150 mm Mk. 16 Banshee 70 Unguided rockets (x32)
70 mm Mk. 10 Zeus Unguided Rockets (x12)
120 mm Mk. 88 SGW Guided Rocket (x8)
AGM-220C Hellhound II (x7)
AGM-204A TSAM Threat Suppression Missiles (x3)
AIM-90E Headlock Air-to-Air Missiles (x3)
What is essentially a stolen dropship repainted to match the needs of a Raider, the
Bloodwing is the primary assault craft of the Raider population, sporting the same impressive
array of weaponry as the military model, though featuring some upgrades. The range of the
craft has been sacrificed for increased speed, though the improved robustness of the craft
has also meant the vehicle is left somewhat more sluggish in comparison to the Military
counterpart.
Ben Black XXXII
Styx Cargo Hauler
COMMON
$ 200,000,000
4
200 + (D8 x 10)
2
7
0.5 Year of travel
200
FTL/0.4 Light Years/day
4,500 63,000
Availability
Cost
Accuracy
AV
DC
Handling
Toughness
Range
Acceleration
Speed
Weight
Armament:
Particle Beam Weapons (forward facing)
Orbital Mines (x30)
150 mm Mk. 16 Banshee 70 Unguided rockets (x140)
A reclaimed space-bearing tug originally designed to tow massive payloads such as
refineries and mining platforms, these Lockmart CM-88B Bison craft were a common sight in
the space lanes before expensive mobile resource gathering gave way to the more
stationary, cheaper shake n bake colonies dotted around the galaxy. A civilian
designed ship, this class is all-but extinct now, only held on to by a few smugglers and
cargo haulers: their powerful engines and spacious cargo capacity make them a favourite
for long-distance hauling. The illegal modifications added by the more dubious and
dangerous of pilots include the main probe array being replaced by low-yield energy
weapons and one bay being modified to serve as a base of operation for the Bloodwing
stolen dropships to provide support in dogfights or act as wing men.
Ben Black XXXIII
InfIltratIon UnIt mk1:
The only way to observe and understand the way the alien truly work and spend their
lives, their social interaction and hive structure, is to observe them first hand in their natural
environment. As anyone could tell you, walking around in the midst of a hive is almost
impossible even with a pheromone belt, and the recording of accurate scientific data would
be just as impossible. Created by a renown scientist who based the unit on an experiment
involving a robotic ant that infiltrated an ant hive, this prototype alien robot rivalled the alien
in all aspects, and could easily blend in to a hive. If the situation called for it, this android
could break down parts of it body and assemble a plasma cannon that dealt the same
damage as a KLA plasma cannon (See Equipment section). The original prototype for this
unit was lost on an expedition to one of the many supposed Alien home worlds, though the
designs had been filed with Weyland Yutani, and as such more of these robots could be
made. Their natural evolution was to evolve into the Mk. 2 Infiltrator.
InfIltratIon UnIt mk2:
An enhancement of the first models, the next generation infiltrator took hive observation to
a new level. Utilising all the data collected by the first wave of alien spies, this alien robot
can act more like an alien, sound like one when it moves, and can adapt quicker to any
changes that may take place in the hive. This enhanced version has had the plasma cannon
removed from its design, as unlike its predecessor it is far less likely to be detected in a
hive. As with all second generation hardware, the components that make up the robot are
much cheaper, consequently cutting down on the cost of production. Tough alien in design,
it is able to operate doors and use manual tools including, but not limited to, cutting torches
and weapons.
InfIltratIon UnItS:
18
N/A
42
7 1
3
N/A
5
5
7
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
Ben Black XXXIV
D.E.a.N:
26
N/A
90
10 0
3
N/A
6
1
10
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
Almost all facilities centred around an Alien hive were issued one of these androids in the
name of safety after several breaches that could have been averted had suficient security
been available. Designed for patrolling the confines of the hive and quelling any uprising
of unruly drones, the Droid Enforcement and Alien Neutraliser (DEAN) is a fully automated
version of the MAX unit. While in no way able to operate in the capacity of the berserker
squads, DEAN can adequately protect a colony from an alien uprising on his own, though
larger facilities will require more than one model. The most basic of programming runs in
the droid regarding sensors, and it can only differentiate between Alien and Human. Any
infiltration units need to speak to DEAN to prevent it from being destroyed: the basic
programming understands that Aliens do not speak, and as such, any speaking Alien must
be an infiltration droid.
Armed with a heavy plasma cannon on its left hand and a club-like fist that can produce a
jet of fire on the right, this android is powered by an internal Nuclear Power cell embedded
deep within its acid-resistant armoured core.
(D12x6) + 20, Acid Immunity Armour:
Unlimited
Unlimited
N/A
Heavy Plasma Cannon
Burning Fist - Flame Jet
Burning Fist - Club
D12x5+10 (70) (AP)
D8x2 (Fire Damage)
As Large Club
Heavy Plasma Cannon
Burning Fist - Club
Heavy Plasma Cannon
Burning Fist - Club
20/60/200/500/900
6/15/25/50/80
Melee
$ 700,000.00 Cost:
Capacity:
Damage:
Range:
Ben Black XXXV
CoNIx-var - The Short raIn
Canyon of the fallen serpent, BraxIs:
Two-horns remained motionless, perched atop the towering peaks that looked down on the
twisting canyons below. They tracked the ancient riverbed along the barren surface of the
planet, lazily meandering from side to side as it marked the route from the Field of the
Fallen Stars to the Nest of the Hard Meat. He held a Blade Rifle in one hand, following the
movements of the creatures that slowly picked their way through the rock-strewn passages.
Smaller than even the youngest hunters aboard his old Clan Ship, the tallest seemed to
peak at two meters, each carrying a heavy piece of equipment that seemed to be a
primitive projectile thrower. Behind this group of soft meat, a small, flat transporter followed
them, carrying an array of similar weaponry mounted on an immense structure in the shape
of a man. Something pulsed within the heart of the machine, heat emanating from within
the steel shell, and by switching his optical filter, an X-ray of the device showed the man
that rested within, curled in a foetal position, its life signs barely registering.
The stories Two-horns had been told had been true. The soft meat were indeed an
irrational species, sacrificing one warrior to power a machine that could fail at any given
point. Such an irrational species couldnt be hunted like the predictable Hard Meat.
But it wasnt the soft meat he was currently interested in.
The elders of the tribe in orbit had declared war on the soft meat, the lore of the hunt
dropped in favour of the all-out extermination of the military forces that hung suspended
above the planet. Only the bravest and most experienced of the hunters would fight, and
the songs and stories of their victory would be those legends that lived on forever. Despite
the ferociousness of the Yautja, they were hunters, not war makers like the soft meat
seemed to be. It was decreed that the inexperienced and unblooded would remain behind
on the ships, and although Two-horns had been blooded almost three seasons ago, he was
still looked at by the rest of the Clan as inexperienced.
That wouldnt deny him the glory and honour he deserved, not in his eyes.
He had stolen an Infiltrator ship and hid it in the deepest of the ravines he could find, and
started to track down his prey, starting with the elders that had forbidden him from the fight.
To take down an elder would not only prove his strength and cunning, but would also mean
that by the laws of his people, he would then be in charge of the Clan Ship. The rite of
Leadership was rare, but would not be undisputed.
He switched his optical filters again, this time the scenery below washed with dark green,
and a series of four figures appeared where they were not visible: the easiest way to see
other hunters cloaked was to monitor their electrical output from the powercells they carried.
The hunter at the lead of the party was Cull Dae mHar, the aged Clan Leader from the
ship he had recently escaped from. His name meant Mind of the Warrior, and his tactics
were certainly sound in almost all situations.
However, classing Two-horns as inexperienced and throwing him in the lower levels of the
ship with the rest of the lower caste had been a mistake.
And his final one.
Two-horns rested his finger over the firing stud, and he prepared to fire...
Then froze, his keen sensed alerted to the presence of something else, something that was
watching him. Had Cull Dae mHar heard of his escape and deceit, known he was there,
and sent one of his elite hunters to flank him? It seemed unlikely, but not impossible.
His nostrils flared as something carried over the air, an acrid scent that Two-horns
recognised from bitter experience fighting the Hard Meat. One of them was close, closer
than was comfortable for any hunter, and his mandibles bristled, a guttural clicking
Ben Black XXXVI
sounding in the back of his throat. His optical filters cycled once again, a bioelectic display
now showing. He turned away from the hunters and scanned the valleys around him,
catching flickers of glowing luminescence as they snaked through the rocky crevices.
Though the valley was teeming with Hard Meat, none were close enough for him to smell...
Again, that same sensation washing over him, this time accompanied by the low hiss of
the dark-skinned creature.
The animal was upon him before he knew, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and
wrapping its tapered fingers around his calf, then his thigh, the cold chill of the creature
seeping deep into his marrow as the alien clambered up his body, thick mucous trailing
from its slavering jaws as it raced towards its target, its powerful inner jaws poised and able
to tear through the armour plating of his helmet.
Two--horns moved fast, relinquishing the grip on his blade rifle and wrapping his free hand
around the lower jaw of the attacking creature, feeling the chitinous shell crack and tear
beneath his grip. The animal gave a piercing screech as the pain from its injury slowed its
advance, but only for less than a second before it continued, talons scrabbling mercilessly
up his body, bladed tail slapping against the rocky outcrop behind him.
As the Yautja struggled frantically with alien atop the rocky spire, he could see a group of
the creatures advancing on his position, crawling out the canyons and swarming towards
him, a tsunami of killer creatures hell-bent on wiping him out.
Two-horns knew he was outnumbered, knew that his plans had been spoiled by the horde
of nightmare animals that were inhabiting the rocky caves and tunnels of the canyon. His
move had been brash and foolish, unplanned. He had failed to plan ahead, take into
account each possible outcome of his stake out, and in doing so, now found himself facing
immeasurable odds. The top of the mountain offered nowhere else to go, no place to
retreat.
The alien slashed and tore at him again and again, talons sparking as they struck his
armour plating and inner mouth hanging loosely from its shattered and bloody jaw, dripping
caustic juices over his body. Another of the creatures leapt onto him, then another, and
another, appearing almost instantaneously and out of nowhere, pinning his limbs and
restricting his movements.
To the Yautja, dying was a part of their life, and dying honourably even more so. Two-
horns released the grip he had on the rocky ledge and kicked out, away from the precipice
and diving down to the surface below. A plummeting ball of flashing blades, snapping teeth
and and whipping tails tumbled through the air as hunter and prey streaked towards the
jagged ground below.
An honourable death was the only option, that and a bloodcurdling war cry that would
lead him into the afterlife and open the gates of the Eternal Hunt for him.
Maybe Cull Dae mHar was right, he thought seconds before the impacting on the
ground.
Inexperienced.
Ben Black XXXVII
The clans of the nomadic Yautja are normally comprised of Hunters, both blooded and
unblooded, that strive to raise themselves above their ranks and better their fellow brethren.
Amongst these Hunters, the Warriors are like kings, holding court over them and claiming
rite to their own quarters instead of living in the pit-like area the lower caste live in. Each
large ship may have anywhere up to ninety hunters and thirty warriors, and only a handful
of Elders that rule over the whole ship.
Rarer amongst these ships are Rogue hunters. These hot-headed youngsters often go
against the ruling of the Elders of the ship or fleet, electing to abandon the clan and
conduct hunts on their own rules. Rogue hunters that have achieved legendary status
normally revolve around those that shun their brothers and go against forbidden prey.
Honorary hunters are even rarer still. Though the hunters recognise the skills of warriors of
other species, they are normally honoured by having their skull placed at the top of a wall
of trophies. One a few occasions, warriors have been welcomed into the fold and looked
upon as equals, even invited on hunts. As much as an honour as this may be, the alien
amongst the Yautja may find it hard to adapt to the lifestyle, and they may find it hard to
choose sides should they ever encounter their own species in a fight or hunt.
Rarer than both Rogues and Honorary Hunters, the Honourless Tracker is a Yautja that has
fallen from grace. Though still living to hunt, this ex-clan member has abandoned the rules
of the hunt, elects not to match prey weapon for weapon, and uses illegally-modified
weaponry and hunting equipment to dominate over its prey.
Ben Black XXXVIII
Rogue Hunter
76
56 27
22
4 6 4
5 2 6
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
ZEALOT (-3)
HUMOURLESS (-1)
HONOURABLE (-3)
ATTRACTIVENESS (-6)
SITUATIONAL AWARENESS (+3)
FAST REACTIONS (+2)
ACCUTE SIGHT (+2)
HARD TO KILL (+6)
DRAWBACKS QUALITIES
3 TRACKING 3 TRAPS 3 THROWING - KNIFE
3 STORYTELLING 3 STEALTH 2 LANGUAGE (HUMAN)
3 MYTH & LEGENDS 5 RITUALS (BONING
AND SKINNING)
4 INTIMIDATION
5 YAUTJA MELEE 5 YAUTJA GUNS 2 FIRST AID
2 CLIMBING 3 BRAWLING 2 ACROBATIC
SKILLS
Ben Black XXXIX
PERSONaLITY:
How could he do it?
Cull Dae mHar denying the younger hunters the chance to fight?
In our culture, war is a rarity; the last war in our people was almost a millennia ago, and
songs are still sung of the warriors conquests. In war there is great honour, and with honour
comes immortality. Cull Dae mHar had his time, he was a warrior in that war, and he
wants that glory again, while denying it from us, the lower castes and less experienced of
the fleet.
Leaving the pack isnt a decision to be taken lightly: hunters have left the fold and
continued to Hunt on many occasions. In some cases, this is how new new clan ships are
formed. Cull Dae mHar may have once been a great leader and warrior, but now, the old
fool is loosing his mind. To leave half the hunters on the ships while the most experienced
go to the surface is not wise, and doubtless it wont be long until his leadership is
challenged.
Whispered rumours have went through the lower levels of the clan ship, young warriors
and recently blooded hunters that have discussed the possibility of going rogue: taking their
equipment, leaving one clan and forming their own. Two-horns has already taken his leave,
taking an Infiltrator craft down to the surface. Now, other youngsters are talking of taking
Tracker craft and leading their own expeditions. Its a dangerous move on their behalf. If
too many hunters leave at the same time, not only will the fleet be left unattended, but the
rogues and the experienced warriors may well clash on the planet. Bad enough that we
have to face the hard and soft meats together, but to face other hunters as well...
Ill go, though. Take my hunting gear and leave. Rumour has it that Lightfoot and Stone
Blade have worked together to secure a craft of their own, and need a crew.
A chance to hunt, a chance to fight, a chance to wage war and reclaim one of our
blooding grounds. A chance to prove the elder wrong.
Glory and honour awaits.
Quote:
The honour of fighting in the war far outweighs the dishonour of abandoning the clan.
For the greater good, I fight.
Equipment:
Wrist Blades
Shoulder Cannon
Spear Combi Weapon
Helmet
Gauntlets
Shift Suit
Yautja Blade Rifle
Yautja Maul
Ceremonial Dagger
Ben Black XL
Honorary YauTja - legendary hero
53 28
20 72
4 5 4
5 4 6
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
HONOURABLE (-1)
INSOMNIA (-3)
LUCK (+3 [9])
RESISTANCE (FATIGUE) (+4)
STATUS (-4) HARD TO KILL (+6)
POWERS: Essence Chanelling 6 (+15), Ain!t Got Time to Bleed (3), Balance of the Cat (1),
Running the Gauntlet (3), Iron Palm (2)
DRAWBACKS QUALITIES
1 TRACKING 4 STEALTH 2 LANGUAGE - HUNT
2 INTIMIDATION 4 HANDWEAPON -
SWORD
2 YAUTJA MELEE
2 YAUTJA GUNS 2 FIRST AID 2 DEMOLITION
2 CLIMBING 4 BRAWLING 3 ACROBATICS
SKILLS
Ben Black XLI
PERSONaLITY:
My colony was out in the middle of nowhere, no one gave a shit when the bugs attacked
it. Theyd been smuggled onto the planet by a bunch of Bug-loving cultists that had a
church out in the middle of the forrest. They thought they could control the things, but then,
so did every mad-man in the galaxy on a power trip. I had a job in the company, you see.
A desk job with some security access, and I knew all about the screwballs who thought the
bugs were gods, or soldiers. Salvaje, General Spears, Doctor Church... they never learned
from each others mistakes, in particular Salvaje, who himself had been the first of the
cultists and the one primarily responsible for the widespread infestation of Earth.
As soon as the bugs were free we tried to call for help, set off a distress beacon, but no
one came. Even if they did, we were almost twenty weeks from the nearest Marine facility,
by the time that arrived we would have been wiped out. We had to fight back for ourselves,
but not only were we up against the bugs, but the cultists, who were hell-bent on protecting
their pets.
The colony turned to me, eventually. As soon as the local law encroachment was wiped
out, they turned to the company, the people who funded the planet, for help. Of course, I
wasnt helpless. Just because I was a desk jockey, doesnt mean I didnt work out and
practice. I mean, shit, there was nothing there for me to do but work out and hone my
combat skills.
So I took a small squad of the best men and women we had, armed them to the teeth with
whatever we had: handguns, a couple of shotguns, some rifles, and whatever sharp things
we had. We tracked out into the forest, killing aliens and cultists as we went. We suffered
casualties and loses, as did they, and by the time I reached the church I was the only man
left able to fight. My pistol was empty, the only thing I had was a pair of scimitars that Id
plucked from a couple of dead cultists. And when I got to the church... I knew I was out of
my league. Bugs crawled over the building, which had been turned into a hive in its own
right, and the leader of the cultists shuffled back and forth like a mindless zombie. Once he
noticed me, he was a changed man, and charged, a blade in each hand just like me. We
matched each other weapon for weapon, only he was doped up to his eyeballs on Jelly. I
didnt think I stood a chance, especially as he kept coming even after Id loped an arm off.
I thought he had me until he buckled over, and his chest exploded outwards, a pink worm
flopping out his body and writhing around. The cultist was dead, and I acted quickly,
scooping up the toothed worm with one blade and dicing it with the other.
Then they appeared, out of nowhere. One minute there was nothing, then they were
there. They looked at me, at the dead chestburster, the bloody mess of the cultist, and they
seemed to smell me, as if they could sense what Id done, how many Id killed: maybe
theyd watch me battle through the trees.
I didnt return from the forest that day. As far as the company knows, I died when trying to
clean up the Cultists mess. Hell, I might even have a plaque someplace with my name on
there. But I wont know, Im not going back. I run with the pack, now. Im not so much an
equal, no matter how much I prove myself, but Im more alive there than I ever was behind
a desk. Would I ever go back? Well, I dont know... nothing lasts forever...
Quote: Im clearly the lesser of equals here.

Equipment: Modified shift suit, armour and weapons for human use.
Double-bladed Scimitar
Alien trophies
Ben Black XLII
Honourless
53 29
18
5 6 5
3 5 5
ESSENCE ENDURANCE
SPEED LIFEPOINTS
ZEALOT (-3)
SITUATIONAL AWARENESS (+2) PHYSICAL DISABILITY (HAND) (-1)
NERVES OF STEEL (+3) MINORITY (-1)
ADVERSARY (CLAN) (-5) HARD TO KILL (+8)
DRAWBACKS QUALITIES
3 THROWING DISC 5 STEALTH 3 RITUALS - SKULL
PREPERATION
4 PILOTING SHIP 2 NOTICE 4 INTIMIDATION
4 YAUTJA MELEE 6 YAUTJA GUNS 4 FIRST AID
1 DODGE 3 DEMOLITION 4 CRAFT (WEAPONS)
3 CHEATING 6 BRAWLING 1 ACROBATICS
SKILLS
Ben Black XLIII
PERSONaLITY:
I am far superior to everything else, why should I match something like for like? If they
are truly worthy prey, they would be able to withstand the most advanced and dangerous
weapons.
For over five hundred years I have travelled from end of the galaxy to another; while I
hunt, it is not my life, not what governs my movements and ethics. I may have abandoned
the lore of the Hunt, but the Hunt abandoned me long before.
They left me for dead, the elders, after the very first blooding ritual. The Hard Meat
caught me by surprise, they didnt expect the Lou-bte klaei to be amongst their prey, and
the matriarch is more than formidable when her children are threatened. We brought her
down, with spears and blades and talon, but a gout of the deadly thwei washed across my
face. They left me for dead.
I wasnt.
I awoke after days of unconsciousness, my body already being ravaged by the
scavengers of the world. With half my face destroyed, a leg injury that would cripple the
hardiest of warriors and a hand missing, thanks the to four-legged lupiria that prowl the
world I died on, I was an empty shell.
I knew how to make and repair weapons of a warrior, it was all hunters did, and I
prepared myself, using scrap and debris to prepare myself.
I knew they would return, eventually. The clan used the same worlds for seeding and
blooding, and when they returned, I was ready. I wiped them out, took their equipment and
ship, and took off.
My skills were far superior, even though I still wasnt fully healed for battle.
I had survived against a queen when so many had failed. Transcended the barrier
between life and death. Reclaimed what had been taken from me.
And now, I hunt, but for what?
For honour? For respect?
For the ingrates that left me for dead? Id rather die again.
The hunt, the search for the ultimate prey. I have hunted them all, species I have tracked
down to the point of extinction, planets I have decimated in the name of finding the
ultimate prey that can withstand the barrage of a talented hunter and tracker such as I.
And now, on the planet called The Short Rain, harbours a challenge. Not only has it been
seeded with the Hard Meat, not only do the Soft Meat claim it as their own and the Yautja
fight for ownership of the planet, but something new stirs within the bowels of the planet,
creatures unique and not previously encountered.
The ultimate prey?
Quote:
In not giving weaker prey a chance, I force it to evolve, gain strength, become deadlier;
become something far more worthy of the hunt.
Equipment:
Modified Shoulder Cannon
Modified Helmet and Armour
Replacement claw
Array of hunting equipment
Tracker Craft.
Ben Black XLIV
Yautja Blade RIfle
The race of predators are not well known for their long-range combat: in fact, melee
combat is what some would consider that Yautjas forte. Taking targets out from a distance
isnt really what the tribe of galactic hunters would ordinarily consider an honourable kill.
However, desperate times call for desperate measures, and when the ban on all weapons
were lifted and war was called on the humans invading one of their hunting worlds, more
than one hunter grabbed one of the Blade Rifles from the clan armouries.
An extension on the projectile-based side of the favoured hunting staff, this weapon can
magnetically accelerate a shaped metal blade over two miles, a projectile which can pierce
most known metals and alloys. Targeting and zoom functions with this weapon are
controlled by being linked directly to the hunters mask via an interface on the left gauntlet.
The weapon does not have a rapid fire capability, taking five combat turns to charge
between each shot, making it a weapon purely for sniping.
12 Blades per cartridge Capacity
15/70/200/700/1500 Range
D10x6 (30) (Armour Piercing, Slashing) Blade Rifle
Yautja Maul
Made from the same material as the Warblades and Wrist Blades, the Maul is a meter-
long blade with a single rounded handhold positioned one third along the length. A skilled
hunter with the bladed weapon is able to swing and spin this weapon in a blind fury, able
to tear through flesh, bone and metal with relative ease.
EXTREMELY RARE Availability
D12x10 (60) (Slashing) Maul
CeremonIal Dagger
Employed by the unblooded when marking themselves with the blood of the first Hard
Meat they slay, this dagger is a ten-inch blade of toughened alloy that is resistant to the
acid blood of their prey. Passed down amongst the families in the clan, only the strongest
amongst a clutch of Younglings would receive this blade from their father, a mark of respect
for their spawn on the upcoming hunts. It is not unknown for a challenge to be issued in the
clutch of Younglings when this dagger is presented, should a fellow sibling be jealous of the
gift. Such a challenge is often a fight to the death.
EXTREMELY RARE Availability
D6x10 (30) (Slashing) Maul
Ben Black XLV
Yautja Bladed ShurIken
An expansion on the cutting disk, the Bladed Shuriken is a small, flat disc that unfolds into
a spinning mass of blades when the onboard targeting computer detects the device is in
flight. This targeting computer allows the shuriken to act in the same way as the cutting disc.
Instead of sitting in a holster on the hunters leg, this device is a compact disc that sits on
the belt. The knife blades can be extended manually with a flick of the wrist, overriding the
onboard sensors should the need arise.
15/50/150/200/150 Disc Range
D12 (6) x (Strength+2) (Slashing) Cutting Disc
GravIra Gara-gor -
WeIght of the ancIents
A heavy plasma caster that rests on the shoulder of one of the hunters, this immense
weapon actually leeches power from the shoulder cannon, charging the internal capacitors
with raw energy and storing it for a single, overwhelming shot that is capable of knocking a
small craft such as a dropship out the sky in a single blast. Because the hunters rarely hunt
airborne craft, this weapon is rarely used.
As well as the power from the shoulder cannon, the Gravira Gara-Gor requires a disc the
size and shape of a dinner plate, made from a special alloy that reacts violently when
infused with the plasma energy. This projectile, which travels just below the speed of light,
is a highly volatile shell that, when jarred by an impact, causes a spectacular explosive
reaction. This explosion temporarily rewrites the laws of physics in the blast zone, creating a
miniature black hole which causes gravitational fluctuations and can compress many targets
to one fifth of their normal size if they are insufficiently armoured. The technology behind
such a weapon lies in only the hands of the oldest of Clan Leaders, and is far beyond the
comprehension of even the most advanced human minds.
Firing the weapon once is a massive drain on the Shoulder Cannons power cell,
completely depleting it and taking almost thirty seconds to fully charge. Once charged, the
weapon can maintain the charge for three minutes before the energy is automatically
dispersed through a number of vents than run the length of the massive barrel.
150 Blast Radius
1 shot per fully charged shoulder cannon and disc projectile Capacity
Min 200, Max 300 Range
(D12 x30) + 300 (480) (Ignores Armour Values) Gravira
Gara-Got
Ben Black XLVI
Yautja Traps
Part of the Hunt isnt just tracking prey and facing it on a one-to-one basis. Sometimes, the
aim of the game is to outthink the prey, to plan ahead, predict their movements and lure
them into a predefined kill-zone. Traps are tailored to different prey and different
circumstances. This list, which is by no means definitive, give an example of some low and
high-tech devices at the disposal of the hunter.
Snare
This coil of strengthened mono-filament is normally kept in a pouch around the belt of the
hunter, and when fastened with a slipknot, can be used to strangle or garrotte their prey.
Once wrapped around the neck of the intended target, it saps their endurance, then works
on the actual lifepoints of the prey.
A standard grapple task is carried out, and should the Predator succeed, the noose slips
over the neck. For each turn the snare is applied, D4xStrength is deducted from the
endurance of the victim, until the endurance is reduced to zero. After this point, the victim is
unconscious and starts to loose Lifepoints at the same rate. Any attempt to escape the noose
results in double the damage rolled, and requires a hard Deterity roll (or Dexterity plus
Escapism). This line is also capable of supporting a massive amount of weight, and is the
same material used to string up their prey once skinned. An ingenious hunter can also
attach it to a a blade like a ceremonial dagger and create a grappling hook.
manacles
The basis of this trap is not just to instantly kill the prey, but incapacitate it. The base of this
trap is buried in the ground, with a motion sensitive array of sensors placed around the unit.
Anything breaking the sensor beams is instantly targeted, analysed, and the base unit
releases the set of manacles that it houses once pressure is detected on it. These bonds will
wrap around the most prominent limbs of the target, deliver an electric charge of D10x5(25)
endurance damage and piece the skin beneath the manacles with a series of spines. These
slowly bleed the prey dry, leeching D4 lifepoints for each turn the prey is trapped. As with
the snare, it is possible to escape the trap with a Hard Dexterity/ Dexterity plus Escapism
roll.
The Maw
While the Manacles are designed to incapacitate the prey, the Maw is designed to
instantly kill the target. Similar in many ways to a common bear trap, the Maw is a pressure
operated device that ensnares the whole body. An onboard array of sensors scans the
target and realigns the spines that run the length of each side of the jaw to automatically
target nerve bundles and vital organs which helps deliver the death strike. The jaws can be
detected with a hard perception or perception and notice roll, and avoided with a hard
dexterity or dexterity and fast reactions roll.
Ben Black XLVII
ModIfIed SHOULDER CaNNoN:
A shoulder cannon heavily modified by a dishonourable hunter who holds no ethics for
the hunt, this tainted weapon has a variable fire setting and is linked to the hunter in
question by a number of probes and neural interfaces from the modified helmet. Becoming
a bio-mechanical weapon in his own right, this device can emit the standard plasma blast, a
scattershot-effect, a piercing lance of energy and a concussive plasma grenade. Different
shots are targeted through the different sensor arrays on the modified helmet, and each
optic unit has access to the same array of filters as a normal hunting mask. The modified
weapon holds four separate power cells, each dedicated to one different method of firing.
100 Shots per Power cell Capacity
Vision-Based Range
D10x8 (40) (hollowpoint damage). Standard Shot
The scatter shot acts in the same way suppressive fire is described in the AFMBE core rule
book, page 103.
400 shots per Power cell. Capacity
Vision Based Range
D4x5 (10) per shot Scatter Shot
15 seconds of fire Capacity
Vision Based Range
D12 (6) per second of exposure (Armour Piercing) Energy Lance
10 shots per Power cell Capacity
Vision Based Range
D12x10 (60)/ D12x5 (30)/ D12x2 (12) Grenade
Ben Black XLVIII
YaUTJa Clan shIp
The mothership of any nomadic clan, the Clan Ship is an immense structure the same size
as a Conestoga-class starship, though far quicker and more advanced. Drawing power from
a specialised hydrogen generator, this ship can operate indefinitely providing it is well
maintained. The ship itself is able to enter the atmosphere of a planet and land on most
surfaces, using the immense fin that protrudes from the base of the ship as an anchor as it
imbeds itself in the ground, able to cut into almost any surface. Though it is armed with
plasma beam emitters, these weapons are only really used when invading a hive world to
capture a live queen. The Clan Ship carries four Tracker craft, two mounted on either side
of its shell, and one Infiltrator craft loaded in a forward-facing bay.
Able to support over three hundred hunters, the vast majority of the younger hunters share
the same living area: the vacuous bowl-shape of the underside of the ship which holds not
only sleeping pods, but also the combat arena where tests of strength are carried out and
disputes are settled.
Higher up in the levels of the ship, the more respected hunters have their own quarters,
each adorned with their most valued of trophies. The largest and grandest of rooms is
reserved for the Clan Elder, who decides where each hunt will take place and who will
participate. Though the Elder achieves the rank of shipmaster through conquests, trophies
and gaining respect, the ship can change hands by a younger hunter successfully
challenging leadership in a fight to the death.
N/A
Multiple Factors
8
150 + (D6 x 50)
10
10
Infinity
300 km/ second
FTL/ 2 Light years/day
25,000,000 80,000 (without ships)
Availability
Cost
Accuracy
AV
DC
Handling
Toughness
Range
Acceleration
Speed
Weight
Armament:
Dual Heavy Plasma Cannons
- (D12 x 50) + 200 (800) 300/500/700/1200/4000
Ship Bays:
- 4 x Tracker Craft
- 1 x Infiltrator
Ben Black XLIX
Yautja tracker craft
The primary landing craft of the Yautja, the Tracker Craft, when attached to the Clan Ship,
could easily be mistaken for an oversized engine tube. Almost organic in design, the ship is
unlike any human ship in that upon closer inspection, and no seems can be seen in the
construction. Powered by the same type of generator installed in the Clan Ship, although
this ship can run indefinitely, it does not hold sufficient supplies for a long-term voyage,
normally only being away from the mothership for the duration of a hunting trip.
Able to hold a full hunting party of twenty hunters and one hunt leader, this craft is far
more agile than any human counterpart, and although it can certainly out-fly any other ship
of its size, it has very light armour and very little weaponry to speak of. As a shuttle
between a Clan Ship in the same system, it serves perfectly: as a light combat craft, its
certainly able to clear a landing zone, but wouldnt be able to hold its own in a full combat
situation.
N/A
N/A
5
60 +(D4 x 10)
8
2
Infinity
350
Mach 15/Mach 7
290 20,000
Availability
Cost
Accuracy
AV
DC
Handling
Toughness
Range
Acceleration
Speed
Weight
Armament:
Twin Plasma Launchers (Armour Piercing, 3-shot salvo)
- (D12 x 8) +150 (198) per salvo
200/400/600/900/1200
Ben Black L
Yautja InfIltrator
A flat, disc-shaped craft that sits in the front-mounted docking bay of the Clan Ship, this
large flying saucer is often only taken by the most experienced hunters on deadly hunts.
Capable of high speeds and equipped with a larger version of the shift-suit tailored for the
craft, this ship is capable of insertions and landing in the middle of densley-populated
areas.
Similar to a much larger version of the cutting disc in build, this immense craft is powered
by the hydrogen generator as standard, this craft holds provisions for a lengthy stay in the
middle of enemy territory, and has a number of walls dedicated to mounting trophy skulls
and prized pelts.
While highly mobile and evasive, this ship is so speedy because it is poorly armoured and
completely unarmed: this adds a further element of danger to the already risky hunt.
N/A
N/A
N/A
30 + (D8 x 4)
9
2
Infinity
700
Mach 40/Mach 15
250 15,000
Availability
Cost
Accuracy
AV
DC
Handling
Toughness
Range
Acceleration
Speed
Weight
Armament:
None
Ben Black LI
The HIve
In the heart of the mountaIns:
KRA-KA-KOOOOOOM!!!
A deep, resonating explosion tore through the periphery corridors of the hive, rousing the
Queen from her slumber.
Something powerful had encroached in her domain, a being of unspeakable power that
lumbered through the halls of her hallowed grounds, bringing death and fury as it came.
She could feel the seething hatred of the invader, something that seemed part of her, yet
alien at the same time.
She reached out, touched the minds of the sleeping drones in the corridors where the
disturbance, and could feel their fear, their panic as they died at the hands of the berserk
force that ripped through her entryways. She called on her warriors, rallied her troops, but
they were quickly knocked back by the unseen force.
The waves of panic were all she could sense now, a terror that engulfed the hive and
threw her nest into utter pandemonium. Her children could sense the intruder, but they
couldnt see it. Something invisible? Her genetic memory held details of the Hives entire
history, and she knew of the fearsome hunters that preyed on her kind, knew of their ability
to meld with any scenery, just as her kin could hide amongst their hive structure. Could it be
that they were advancing on her, coming to claim her head as a trophy?
In mere seconds, the fore had ripped through the outer defences of her hive, and had
now met up with her Praetorian, the elite guards that kept watch over the nursery. She knew
them well, had nurtured them since they had burst from their fleshy host bodies, yet as their
acrid intestines were splashed across the resinous grounds, she felt no loss, no mourning.
The warriors and guards were mature, could look after themselves, but the unborn that still
gestated in their alien wombs, they were defenceless. So, too, were the unborn larvae that
nestled in her swollen ovipositor and the sea of dormant leathery eggs that surrounded her.
Her warriors had fallen, the elite rendered asunder, and now the unknown assailant was
systematically wiping out the host creatures embedded in the walls of the nursery. The
screams of the infants as they were ripped from their wombs hurt her, physically hurt her,
though the pain was no worse than what she felt now as she ripped herself from the
resinous cradle she rested in and tore away the egg sac. She could return to it when she
was finished. She had to deal with the intruder herself.
Ducking under support beams and squeezing through narrow fissures, she moved as quick
as she could, heading directly towards the source of power that was killing her hive. The
closer she got, the more familiar the this creature felt. Was it one of the hunters, a one that
had previously been in the hive in the original attack all that time ago?
She finally emerged in the enormous chamber used as the nursery and froze, confused
by what she was confronted with.
A hulking monstrosity with a sleek purple-black head, its comb similar to her own, but
covered in bristling spines and ridges. It opened its mouth, a dark and cavernous maw filled
with bristling teeth made of razor-sharp bone and silver, then extended its inner jaw, this
ending in a piercing spike. Its body, more muscular and solid than the insect-like bodies of
the warriors, was heavily damaged and pitted, washed with the blood of a hundred slain
creatures of the hive. It reared back, lifted its massive head and screamed; a silent but
piercing cry that tore through the hive and savaged the mind of the queen, a psionic assault
that knocked her back.
This creature, the power behind the attack, suddenly became clear to the queen of the
hive as something unnatural, something that had been created in the higher levels above
Ben Black LII
the hive. It seemed to be made from her, a construct entirely alien to the hive, and yet, a
seemingly integral part of it. While she was the Matriarch of the brood, the creator of life
within the nest and the loving protector of the children, this creature seemed entirely
aggressive, a seething hulk of rage and terror that knew only one thing, and that was to
destroy.
The queen lunged for the hives assailant, her massive hands coiling around the wrists of
the dark terror as she tried to restrain its assault on the unborn, and the two tumbled to the
ground, rolling around amongst the spilled blood of host and larvae.
Her strength seemed equal to that of her masculine counterpart, though the creature had
already been weakened by her hive. Had they not already tried to intercept it, she would
have quickly succumb to the brute.
And even as she struggled, she sensed more alien intruders around her, creatures that still
slinked amongst the shadows of the hive and killed her children, mutants of her children
that were rising against the hive. As loathe as she was to accept her fate, she knew that the
hive was finished... unless she could gather reinforcements, the unliving brood that still
wandered aimlessly in the lower tunnels of the complex after her own followers had culled
their undead queen.
The message went out, a command that seeped through layers of rock and resin, touching
the senses of every warrior that remained dormant in the hive, any larvae born or unborn,
and in the deepest levels of the nest, the synaptic receptors of the exiled Lazarus brood
received the message.
An unnatural alliance, a warning that once this creature, this King of Mutates, had
eradicated both hive and queen, then surely it would turn its attention to the parasitic
entities that lurked in the darkened depths of the catacombs.
Sleeping creatures stirred in the blackness of the underground caves, albino animals that
glowed with sickly luminescence that had long since been cast out by any and all creatures
on the planet. Slowly, one by one, creatures that had remained dormant for what could
have been an age in their timeless hibernation hissed to life. Hisses filled the dank cavern,
claws clacking against resinous coatings, organic weapons grafted to humanoid figures
automatically cocking, and mandibles clicking together.
Since the Lazarus queen had been destroyed, the brood had been left unfocused, without
a central hive mind to work around, and they had fallen into a coma-like state. Some still
managed to stumble around, though without a central guide, a maternal instinct to control
them all, they had been effectively abandoned.
Now, with the plea that was issued by the flailing queen above them, they came to life
once more, heading for the many crevices that would lead into the hive above. An army of
undead creations, their allegiance now pledged to their new matriarch.
Ben Black LIII
Experiments deep within the most secret of laboratories on Braxis World produced a
number of surprising mutant strains that were just as dangerous and deadly as the normal
strain; if not, more so.
Created before the Lazarus strain was created, these early subjects seem immune to the
concoctions mixed in the resurrecting fluid; in fact, in tests conducted with the mutants and
the infected Lazarus creatures, the two different subspecies tear chunks from one another
until only one had been completely destroyed. These mutants each have different
properties that make them stand out from a normal alien strain, and are detailed in the
following pages. Records in the laboratories were destroyed when these creatures escaped
their cryogenic stasis, and as such it is unknown how many of each mutants there are.
The only creature that is guaranteed to be a unique creation is the genus labelled King.
Derived from the DNA makeup of a queen and flooded with male chromosomes and
testosterone from a number of different donors, including a number of Marine and Scientists
stationed in the base, this creature is the alien equivelent to a Berserker unit, knowing only
the desire to destroy. Strangely enough, it seems to ignore other Mutant strains unless they
attack it directly.
Of the different mutants released, each genus has its own unique properties. The Arachnid
mutant is a hybrid of two alien warriors that have been melded together into one creature.
With the amount of limbs doubled, the alien is allowed double the turns in combat, and with
its gripping feet, is able to grab and throw a target in a single movement.
The Blocker strain has rock-hard crystalline structures than run the length of its forearms, an
organic barrier that can deflect some smaller calibre weapons and dampen the damage of
others. This creature defends itself by shielding its head and torso with its protected arms ,
and spends much of its time in this defensive stance.
An advancement on the properties held by the Praetorian, the Spitter strain is able to
protect a stream of acidic bile up to seven yards away from itself, effectively giving the
alien hordes a ranged weapon of sorts. Because of the high acidic of this aliens innards, it
does not have the paralytic affect of the stinger on a normal aliens tail.
The Razor alien mutant is a hulking beast covered in tiny spines that damage any creature
that is foolish enough to come in contact with it. As well as this, this alien mutant has had
the fingers on each hand replaced with a thick, razor-sharp claws that are easily able to
tear through armour plating.
The Smasher mutant strain has a thick crystal growth that encases its head, made from a
similar substance to that which covers the forearms of the Blocker. With the same armour
properties, this creature is able to deliver a devastating head butt which is capable of
breaking bones and reinforced glass, and buckling armour plating.
The mutant strain named the Stalker is a creature capable of moving at fast speeds in
relative silence. Granted with an unparalleled level of stealth, this creature has a natural gift
for moving undetected, and doesnt need the biomechanical surroundings of the hive to
remain hidden as its brethren does.
With the Lazarus compound still rife in the enclosed environment of the hive, and the
domineering matriarch calling on the help of the exiled albinos to help in the war against
the violent mutant strains, the infection of a Max or Mox is a very likely possibility.
Ben Black LIV
KING alIEN - Pureblood
Special Acid Blood +5,
450
+103
N/A
Animal Cunning +4
Weekly +4, All Flesh 0
-- 45
1 3
15
3
Like A Hawk +2, No Pain +1, Scent Tracking +3
Tail D6 x strength, Jaw Strike D12 x 9
20
Preternatural Strength +16, Damage Resistant +5, Claws +6 Strength
18
3
The Quick Dead+10
All 0
Power
Spreading The
Love
Intelligence
Sustenance
Senses
Getting Around
Weakspot
Attack
Essence Pool Endurance Points Speed Dead Points
Willpower Perception Intelligence
Dexterity Constitution Strength
Ben Black LV
aRaCHNID - MUtant StraIn
19
Intelligence
Mother Knows Best +8 (see appendix).
42
Bury The body -2
Power +89
Acid Blood +10
Who Needs Food? +8
Like Nothing Youve Ever Seen +10, Life Sense +14
--
* 1
1
7
Monsterous +10, Claws +6, Iron Grip +1
Tail D6xStrength=1 dose Curare per strike (AFMBE p.107), Jaw
D12x7
7
The Quick Dead +10, Leaping +3, Climbing +2, Wall Crawl +5
Getting Around
18
3
All 0, Fire -1
Brawling +3, Climbing +2, Grasping Feet +5
Spreading The Love
Special
Sustenance
Senses
Strength
Weakspot
Skills
Attack
Essence Pool
Endurance Points Speed
Dead Points
Willpower Perception
Intelligence
Dexterity Constitution
Strength
Ben Black LVI
BLOCKER - MUtant StraIn
Intelligence
42
Bury The body -2
Power +88
Acid Blood +10, Armoured Forearms (D8 x 2)+17
Who Needs Food? +8
-- 19
* 1
1
7
Monsterous +10, Claws +6
D12x7
7
Getting Around
18
3
All 0, Fire -1
Brawling +3, Climbing +2
Spreading The Love
Special
Sustenance
Senses
Strength
Weakspot
Skills
Attack
Essence Pool
Dead Points
Intelligence
Strength
Ben Black LVII
SPITTER - MUtant StraIn
23
Intelligence
42
Bury The body -2
Power +91
Acid Blood +12
Who Needs Food? +8
--
* 1
5
7
Tail D6 x Strength, Jaw D12x7, Acid Vomit D12 x Constitution
(Range: 7 yards)
7
Getting Around
18
3
All 0, Fire -1
Spreading The Love
Special
Sustenance
Senses
Strength
Weakspot
Skills
Attack
Essence Pool
Dead Points
Intelligence
Strength
Ben Black LVIII
RaZOR - MUtant StraIn
24 --
Intelligence
Mother Knows Best +8
66
Bury The Body -2
Power +84
Acid Blood +6
Who Needs Food? +8
* 0
4
7
Elite Strength +12, Fire Resistance +3
Tail D6xStrength=1 dose Curare per strike (AFMBE p.107), Jaw Strike
D12x8, Talons D10 x Strength (AP), Spines D12 per turn on contact.
10
Getting Around
18
3
All 0
Brawling +4, Climbing +2, Stealth +3
Spreading The Love
Special
Sustenance
Senses
Strength
Weakspot
Skills
Attack
Essence Pool Endurance Points Speed
Dead Points
Intelligence
Strength
Ben Black LIX
SMaSHER - MUtant StraIn
Intelligence
42
Bury The body -2
Power +89
Acid Blood +10, Armoured Head (D8 x 2)+17
Who Needs Food? +8
-- 19
* 1
1
7
D12x7, Headbutt D6 x Speed
7
Getting Around
18
3
All 0, Fire -1
Spreading The Love
Special
Sustenance
Senses
Strength
Weakspot
Skills
Attack
Essence Pool
Dead Points
Intelligence
Strength
Ben Black LX
STalkER - MUtant StraIn
Intelligence
42
Bury The body -2
Power +94
Acid Blood +10
Who Needs Food? +8
-- 19
* 1
1
7
D12x7
7
Getting Around
18
3
All 0, Fire -1
Brawling +3, Climbing +2, Stealth +5
Spreading The Love
Special
Sustenance
Senses
Strength
Weakspot
Skills
Attack
Essence Pool
Dead Points
Intelligence
Strength
Ben Black LXI
Lazarus-Infected MAX/ MOX
Intelligence
Dumb as Dead Wood 0
N/A
N/A
Power +53
Rage -2
Who Needs Food? +8
Like Nothing Youve Ever Seen +10, Life Sense +14, No Pain +1
-- 21
-2 0
5
7
Elite Strength +12
See Weapons Table (below).
10
Slow and Steady 0
Getting Around
2
1
None +10
Brawling +4, Organic Weapon Systems +6
Spreading The Love
Special
Sustenance
Senses
Strength
Weakspot
Skills
Attack
Essence Pool
Dead Points
Intelligence
Strength
Ben Black LXII
Organ Sacs
Ground Zero: 2 D6x10 (30)
Gen. Effect: 6 D6x8 (24)
Max. Range: 10 D6x3 (9)
Similar to the Phosphorous Incendiary grenade, this
organic sac creates a thick cloud of dark brown-green smoke
within a range of 20 metres/yards from the point of impact,
reducing visibility to Pitch Black lighting condiions within the
cloud, as well as having a nauseating affect of D12x2 damage
An organ filled six with small leech-like
creatures,this organ explodes on impact, with each
worm burrowing into any soft or exposed fleshy
parts of the target. Upon contact, rolling a D6
defines how many worms latch on. Multiplying the
result of that roll against D4 indicates how much
damage they cause per turn until burned off.
Parasitic
Methane
Calcifiers
Cartiledge Plates (D8x5) + 20 (60) Armour:
3000 fragments
10 Organ Sacs
Bile Expulsion System
Cartiledge Infusion Unit
Organ Launcher
Bio-Force Propulsion
Extension
D12 x 2 (12) (acid damage)
D8 x 8 (32)
See Organic Bomb Table
D4 x Strength
Organ Launcher
Extension
Organ Launcher
Extension
3/9/13/20/30
10/30/60/250/500
30/70/100/200/300
Melee
Capacity:
Damage:
Range:
The Lazarus-infected MAX or MOX unit can generate ammunition within itself at a rate of:
1 minutes-worth of Bile per twenty minutes,
10 Cartilage fragments per ten minutes,
1 Calcifier Organ Sac per thirty minutes and 2 essence points,
1 Methane Organ Sac per hour and 4 essence points,
1 Parasitic Organ Sac per two hours and 7 essence points.
Ben Black LXIII
BraxIs World
Outpost Gamma - GarbonIs PoInt:
Let me do the talking, Davison hissed to the squad of Marines behind him as they
approached the abandoned Raider base. Or at least, the base that was supposed to be
abandoned. Considering the reports hed read stated the outpost was destroyed during the
initial invasion, it seemed particularly busy. Giant cargo haulers docked and departed from
the makeshift set of pipes and temporary modules, older models of Bison-class ships that
should have been consigned to the scrap heap years ago, but instead had been refitted
and kitted out with heavy weapons. Bloodwings circled the compound, bristling with
weapons and active sensors that swept the landscape, always searching for any sign of a
threat to the compound. Because of this, Davison intentionally kept his men back.
His men.
After loosing half of his Hunter/Killer squad in a failed nest raid, he had found himself
hemmed in the hive, faced by a horde of mutant aliens, as well as the Lazarus-infected
men, women, hunters and aliens. It hadnt looked good for him, and for a moment he
thought he was going to end up stuck to the wall in the nursery between the two baiters
from his squad.
That was before The Behemoth had burst through the hive, screaming an ungodly yell and
unleashing scorching death from his weapons. In the confusion, Davison had escaped from
the hive the way the berserker had entered, and upon reaching the surface, had
encountered a small platoon of Marines that were sweeping the surface for any stragglers.
Despite the fact he was a convict, they welcomed him and quickly turned to him as a
leader; the soldiers were relatively green, some of them only having served for a couple of
months.
Slowly emerging from his cover, Davison raised his hands and stepped towards the base,
allowing the heavy cannon strapped to his waist to point harmlessly to the ground.
The closest of the Bloodwings screamed over to him and hovered menacingly in the air, a
bright searchlight stabbing the ground and illuminating the figure of the Hunter/Killer as he
waved his hands. He was taking a risk in approaching the Raider base and turning to them
for help, but it was the lesser of two evils: if not the Raiders, the only other people he could
turn to were the hunters from the stars, and he doubted they would be receptive to his
pleas.
I want to speak to the man in charge, Davison bellowed, his voice almost lost in the
scream of the Bloodwings engines.
Drop your weapons, a female voice bellowed over the external speakers of the craft.
Davison couldnt help but notice that the gatling gun on the nose of the craft had came to
life, and now seemed to track his movements. Obediently, Davison unfastened the harness
for his pulse cannon, shrugged off the straps of the two rifles strapped to his back, and
tossed them all on the ground, motioning to the rock formation for the Marines to slowly
come out and do the same.
A door to one of the modules of the base rolled open and an APC trundled out the
opening, covering the mile distance between the rocks and base and trundling to a stop
beneath the hovering Bloodwing. The door on the side slid open, and pair of heavily armed
men leapt out, keeping their weapons trained on Davison and the slowly approaching
Marines. A third man exited the vehicle, a gleaming bald head atop a tall, muscular body.
He wore thick body armour, and smiled grimly at the men, in particular Davison.
Marines, with a convict in charge of them. How curious. Tell me, what brings you out to
these badlands? he finally asked in a grave voice, motioning to the surrounding rocky
Ben Black LXIV
environment.
We need to speak to the man in charge, Davison said, glaring hard at the public
speaker of the Raiders.
And you will, the man promised. Though you need to state your business, first.
Targets approaching, announced one of the men, holding one hand up to his ear and
pressing against his headset. North and east ravines.
Say your piece, and say it quick, criminal, warned the bald man, stepping back towards
the open APC. I dont know about you, but I dont want to be out here when whatever is
coming actually arrives.
We need help, the Marines are getting slaughtered by these things, aliens and hunters,
and the last thing we want to do is to have to watch our backs from... from your people.
We need to work together...
Your tin men arent everything your hoped, are they? leered the man. You arent the
first men to suffer through ignorance and overconfidence with their technology. Ever since
the first encounter with the xenomorphs...
A deep and powerful growl sounded to the north of the encampment, and for a moment
Davison thought there was a storm on the way.
Incoming! screamed the bodyguards in unison, one hurling the bald man to the ground,
the other signalling frantically to the dropship to pull up and evacuate. The pilot did as they
were instructed, pulling away and banking wildly to one side just as a glowing ball of white
plasma streaked over the mountain ridges with a deafening roar that increased as it
approached. The rear of the Bloodwing erupted into a flurry of silver fragments as it set of a
salvo of Chaff grenades in hope of confusing the guidance systems of the incoming
projectile. The alien technology wasnt as easily confused, and it veered wildly to one side
as it tracked the shuttle craft.
The plasma bolt struck the Bloodwing in the leftmost engine, erupting in a deafening roar,
but not in an explosion as Davison had expected. Instead of fire and shrapnel, a bizarre
vortex spawned into existence, a black hole that crushed the rear of the dropship and
pulled in into the temporal rift before blinking out of existence. As the rain of silver foil fell
around Davison, he stood and stared absentmindedly at the vacant skies where the Raider
dropship had once been.
Get in, urged the bald man, leaping into the APC and motioning to Davison and his
band of Marines. Quick!
Davison nodded and clambered into the confines of the craft as the turret on the roof of
the vehicle opened up, a steady thunderous assault that slammed the mountainside with
explosive rounds as the driver engaged the vehicle and gunned the engine onwards. With
tyres kicking up loose dirt and gravel, the bald man watched feeds from the external
cameras on the bank of monitors that dominated the rear of the vehicle. Warriors
clambered over the cliff tops, hunters in glistening armour and bearing energy weapons
and razor-sharp blades. Grunting to himself more than anyone, and making sure the
automated systems for the overhead gun turret were working correctly, he spun on his seat
to face Davison and the bewildered Marines in tow. He was pale and shaken, and Davison
thought he probably looked the same way himself.
My name, he announced, Is General Garbonis. Im in charge of this establishment,
and I think we should talk. Quickly.
Ben Black LXV
MarIne Encampment
A makeshift base used by the Marines and the Berserker squads as a staging area for the
assault on the Braxis research station, only the most skilled pilots are able to navigate the
network of canyons required to reach this safe haven.
Large enough to house the seven Berserker squads assembled for the operation, as well as
the accompanying Marines and Hunter/Killers, the plateau was divided into XX sections.
Accessible either by air through the maze of canyons or by one solitary ravine that
headed towards the distant research station, the only ground entrance is guarded by a trio
of APCs fitted with Phased Plasma Cannons. The common centres of each vehicle is linked
in to a cluster of seven M112 HIMATS and a pair of UA-571 E Sentry Cannons. Keyed in to
ignore the IFF codes of each Marine in the camp, this formidable barrage of fire is enough
to keep even the most hardy of attackers at bay.
Behind the forward defences are a number of makeshift barracks, five in total and each
able to hold up to fifty men and women in each. Beside the barracks is the main armoury,
where the weapons of those not on active guard duty are stowed.
In the centre of the encampment are the medical unit, officers barracks and the central
Com-Tac command centre. Each unit has a pair of guards stationed at each entrance, and
the roof of the Com-Tac centre is patrolled by a squad of seven Marines at all times.
To the rear of the encampment is the engineering segment of the base, where weapons
and vehicles are fixed and the MAX/ MOX units are stored. The power for the base comes
from the pair of large Infinity Fusion generators stationed here, and is equally as protected
as the rest of the base, though this area is strictly off-limits to explosive rounds and
weapons. An inhibitor field makes sure that no Berserker units are activated in error in this
area.
Entrance to the camp through the air is controlled by a patrolling dropship and a number
of two-man guard towers positioned around the plateau. All caverns leading in to the area
are also protected by UA-571 E Sentry Cannon emplacements.
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RaIder Base
Comprised mainly of toughened plastic tubing and the abandoned hulls of other
spacecraft, the Raider Base has partially been restored by the current inhabitants of the safe
haven. Each designated building is the husk of an abandoned cargo ship, often no more
than one or two rooms sealed off from the harsh climate of the outer planet.
The main living area is a converted Styx Cargo Hauler, one of the many ships sacrificed
by Garbonis to rebuild the fort, and can house up to seventy Raiders at any time; this
includes the bridge, in which Garbonis solely resides when he is there, and two of his most
trusted body guards guard the only entrance.
The Medical bay is the rear of a demolished Conestoga Starship that didnt completely
burn up on re-entry. It holds a number of cryo-chambers for serious cases that need to be
treated off-world, as well as a number of functioning medi-comp units that can deal with
most fractures and sickness. Garbonis also has one unit specially imported from his contacts
in Grant Pharmaceutical, which is a reinforced tank which can be used to remove a living
alien parasite from a host. Though the chances for host survival are slim, the aliens
chances are excellent.
The Armoury, a Bloodwing ship docked to the main living area, holds a number of
weapons and equipment for the Raiders use. Its contents include, but are not limited to,
Pule Rifles, Pulse Cannons, Smartguns, SADARs, Dog-Choppers and Sound Cannons. The
only resource Garbonis does not have access to is a Berserker unit, though this may be one
of his aims.
The Storage Facility has not yet been replaced, and as such is a battered graveyard of
machine parts and supplies left untended. Though something useful may still exist in the
skeletal structure that once housed the provisions, finding it would be a tough job.
Using force-field technology stolen from the Braxis Research facility, the holding cells are
the areas where mission-specific targets can be held, whether that is a canister of Jelly, an
adult alien of experiment, or even one of the legendary invisible hunters. These fields are
impenetrable to all forms of damage, even acid, and can remain active indefinitely,
providing they receive juice from a power source. For these shields, the Raiders have
actually tapped into the power lines of the research facility at a junction point on the
outskirts of the base.
Ben Black LXVII
Research StatIon
The towering structure of the Atmosphere Processor is the main focal point of the colony, a
multibillion atmosphere scrubber that is fully automated and draws power directly from a
geothermal power station located in the deepest bowels of the eight sub levels. The higher
floors of the structure, numbering almost thirty in total, are tightly-packed service corridors
barely two feet wide and filled with machinery, conduits and cables required for the
atmosphere processing. Though movement in the upper levels is possible, a fully armed
Marine is barely able to move in the tunnels. Most men entering the tunnels will need to
strip down out of their armour of suffer from heavy dexterity penalties. Any weapons fired
within the structure should not be armour piercing or explosive rounds: weapons such as
flame-throwers, the M49A and Dog-Chopper are fine for use, as is the soundcannon
providing use is carefully monitored. The lowest levels of this structure link in to the hive by
a number of tunnels, which are heavily defended by UA 571 E & D Sentry Cannon
emplacements, and a number of Marines constantly on patrol. The weapons on this level,
though dangerous to the processor, are aimed into the opening tunnels to the hive and, as
such, are fired into a safe zone.
At ground level, a three-story building to the north is situated and serves as both a garage
and front gate to the colony. At thirty meters by seventy, it is large enough to hold five
Daihotai Tractors and enough fuel barrels, tools and service droids for the vehicles, though
two tractors are missing, presumably destroyed in one of the attacks on the base. This
building is nothing more than a shell with an enlarged storm gate and a network of catwalks
spanning the interior. In the centre of the building, suspended by web of strengthened
metal cables, is the control room: a small chamber with enough space for three people, and
is filled with security monitors that relay pictures from cameras around the outside of the ten-
foot high stormwall that surrounds the colony.
Directly opposite this building to the south is a building the same size, and serves as the
residence for most of the colony. Each floor houses eight small rooms and a central
corridor, which offers plenty of space for the colonists in their fourteen by twenty meters
living quarters. Each room holds a bunk, a wet room cubicle that acts as a toilet and shower
in one, a small food preparation area and a table. In total, this building holds twenty four
rooms.
A number of large empty cargo pods have been left abandoned in the compound, which
have been claimed by several young entrepreneurs in the colony and changed into
makeshift buildings which includes three bars and a strip club. The bars, Bar Braxis, Six
Shooters and What Ales You, each have stills set up in their back, and the production of
their alcohol is aided by cultures and equipment supplied by the scientists. While these bars
are frequented by the scientists and engineers of the colony, the Rocket Thruster strip club is
the favoured hangout for the Marines.
In the centre of the complex, the main base of operations is situated: a large construction
five stories tall and a hundred meters square, which serves as the main base of operations
for the outer colony. With the top floor dedicated to operations, communications and
controls, this area has the tightest security, next to the entrance to the hive. Below that, on
the forth floor, is the medical lab, and the second and third designed for the low-key
scientists and their experiments. The first floor serves as the barracks and armoury for the
security and Marines stationed there, and in the centre of the floor is a hidden hatchway
which leads to a large cargo elevator that descends to the secret laboratories.
Deep beneath the ground, almost one hundred meters, lies the hidden labs of Braxis
World. Only the most senior of scientists and Marines know of the subterranean research
Ben Black LXVIII
areas. Spreading out in a circle from the main elevator, the labs are divided into a number
of different areas. The first, and largest, of the areas are the cryogenic stasis cylinders. Kept
active on their own independent power circuit, these cylinders hold the mutated Alien
experiments. Despite the varying sizes of stasis cells, the creature known as the King
proved too large for normal stasis, and as such had to be kept in an enlarged holding cell
with specially created force fields.
The second area concentrates on genetic manipulation and alien DNA experiments, and is
the area where Doctor Bellmore made his breakthrough with the Lazarus compound.
The third area of the labs specialises with alien cultivation and dissection, and is the area
that is attached to the hive. Sentry Cannons and Marines are stationed in the same way as
in the Atmosphere Processor, making sure none of the creatures attempt to escape their
hive.
Maintaining the hive is a hard task, as the needs of the aliens must be catered for: this
means that every so often, hosts and food must be sent into the hive, and these were
supplied by the company. On top of this, certain measures had to be taken inside the hive
to make sure the aliens did not escape. Further details of this are detailed in the Hive
Structure section.
Ben Black LXIX
HIve Structure
As noted in previous expansion:
The structure of the Alien Hive is bizarre fusion of biological forms and mechanical shapes.
The Alien creates this structure through secretion of a thick, resin-like drool which dries and
hardens into a strong crystallised substance.
The Hive has a number of functions, the first of which is immobilise potential hosts, fixing
them to the walls of breeding chambers and ensuring they do not escape. The erratic nature
of the structure often means that bodies must be broken and twisted to fit into the design,
which is something the Alien is able to do without a second thought. To escape unaided
from the Hive, a potential host must pass one hard strength test for each hour they have
been imprisoned to break free from the cocoon. A second person may offer assistance,
adding his own successful strength tasks to the count.
The second function of the Hive is to provide an environment in which the Alien can thrive.
Hollowed tubes and small chambers provide a basic heating system for the structure, but
these tubes and conduits can also be used by the Alien to travel between areas. The
appearance of the Hive also makes it possible for Aliens to blend in perfectly with the
scenery, giving them a +7 to any stealth tasks while stationary, and +3 when moving.
The Hive has an armour value of 15, a damage capacity of 50 per yard/ meter and a
barrier value of 25.
The hive itself is a complex network of tubes and crevices deep beneath the crust.
Drawing heat from the power plant of the Atmosphere Processor and the lower levels of the
hive, which open up on part of a magma flow, the ambient temperature of the hive is
incredibly high. This renders all infrared imaging and tracking useless, meaning that both
Hunter and Marine will have to find alternative ways to track anything in the hive.
It is unknown how far the hive fully extends, as numerous scientists and androids have
been sent into the hive, armed with pheromone belts, but none have returned.
Other than the automated defences and patrols stationed at the two main entrances, a
DEAN unit stalks the levels of the hive around the entrances. Though this unit is
programmed to destroy the alien, a subroutine in its programming means it will only attack
an alien if it attempts to escape the confines of the hive.
It is known that at least one Queen resides in the hive, though the unknown size of the
caverns could mean that there are more matriarchs within the nest.
Ben Black LXX
Yautja Camp
Nothing more than a flat tableau on one of the mountains facing the human research
station, this camp is the ground the hunters use to gather and swap tales of war and
conquests.
Guarded by two hunters armed with the devastating Gravira Gara-Gor that scan the
horizon for any craft that may threaten their position, a billowing fire is often the
centrepiece of the camp, which provides an ideal setting for the hunters to exchange their
tales or show off whatever trophies they may have gathered.
The camp is attended by a group of older hunters that are no longer able to hunt through
one reason or another: these Yautja provide food, first aid and service the weapons of the
warriors, but are by no means lower-class: without these retired and experienced fighters,
the war between the Soft Meat and Hard Meat would be a lot harder on the Yautja.
Ben Black LXXI
Deep Space
The GarbonIs Conestoga class StarshIp
If had been weeks since the incident at Braxis World, and the crew of the Garbonis, a
ragtag mixture of surviving Marines, Raiders and colonists packed aboard the military-class
cruiser, worked feverishly to keep the vehicle ticking over.
Dipping low into the atmosphere to pickup retreating human forces had been a risky
manoeuvre, and between being caught in the EMP blast of something going nova on the
planet surface - no surviving ground forces could pinpoint whether it had been the
processor, a baby boomer utilised by one of the Berserker crew, of the final act of a fallen
hunter - and a raging battle in the low orbit of the planet, the ship had come away with its
fair share of war wounds. While the hunter forces had all but obliterated the human ships
on one side of the planet, the Garbonis had remained hidden on the far side of the planet,
like an alien lurking in the shadows before striking and picking off the smaller and weaker
targets.
As the crippled ship limped through the outer reaches of the rim systems, drawing ever
closer to Leesons Point, a feeling of unease settled over the ship. While the ship had been
run by the Raiders, it had previously been a Marine ship, and with men and women from
both sides aboard the craft, it was hard to say what would happen to one half of the crew
when they reached the space station.
At least, thats what was on Davisons mind as he stalked through the lower levels of the
cargo decks. While the Marines kept to their own side of the ship and the Raiders to the
other, the Berserker squads were made primarily of convicts, and those that had survived
were drawn between the two sides: some were tempted to return to their criminal routes,
while others, those that were closer to serving their time than others, elected to stick with the
Marines. It was only a matter of time until one side grabbed a weapon and started a war in
the sealed arc that would undoubtedly implode and kill them all. Until now, though, no one
had tried a take-over.
But there was always the possibility.
The cargo decks were wide and well lit, a stark contrast to the tunnels of the alien Hive
structure and the tunnels higher up. Maybe that was why he preferred to spend all his
spare time in the cargo bays: a break from what seemed like an eternity in darkness and
mazes.
Duty rosters had been put in place, and Davison was on his way to relieve one of the
crews guarding the boxes of cargo that Garbonis had insisted on risking so many of his men
for. As he approached the lowest level, he stopped before entering the hold: something
didnt seem right. An acrid smell lingered in the air, something hideously familiar, yet alien
at the same time. An unsettling clammy heat lingered in the air, and Davison felt the sweat
roll down the crack of his spine. He gripped the weapon he held, the M49A Pulse Assault
hed been issued, and cautiously approached the gaping doorway leading to the largest of
the holds. The lights were still on, but he could see that one of the crates had been torn
open, and a canister torn open, allowing the thick gelatinous substance within to spill over
the floor. Two people hunkered down near the spillage, their arms coated in the viscous
substance up to their elbows.
Jelly junkies.
They werent a new thing, Just like every other performance-enhancing narcotic that had
ever been released, the alien secretion was highly addictive and those with the taste for the
goo would go to any distance for it. Davison knew that things could get messy if he had to
chase off these addicts, so he worked the bolt on his assault weapon, hoping the junkies
Ben Black LXXII
would be so high that they would freak out and run. The sound of the action cycling open
and shut alerted the two junkies, but it didnt make them run. Instead, they tilted their hands
to one side, making a show of listening. Davison took a step closer, his weapon raised
slightly, and thats when he noticed that not all was as it seemed.
Both men seemed to be bursting through their clothing, heavily distorted features only
partially hidden by what remained of their clothing. Pale, almost glowing blue skin showed
beneath the rags, and other parts of exposed skin seemed to meld into dark, tube-like
projections growing from their backs and sides. Davison froze for a second, hed seen these
abominations before in the deepest depths of the hive on Braxis: human-alien hybrids
created by the demented scientists in the hidden laboratories. He didnt wait to warn the
pair that he intended to open fired, he simply unleashed two controlled bursts; the first
smashed into the skull of one of the men, obliterating his head, and the second burst struck
the crate, shattering the fragile wood on contact where the hybrid had rolled to one side. It
raised its hand - no, not a hand, a weapon fused into its arm where skin smoothly shifted
into metal - and opened fire. Nine millimetre projectiles slammed against the bulkhead
beside Davison, pale green-grey cysts that shattered on impact. The beheaded creature
clambered clumsily to its feet, sightlessly aimed the device melded to its both its arms, and
sprayed the deck plates with an almost luminous green liquid, a warm and cloying acidic
bile that splashed across the ground and lapped at Davisons boots.
Spine, he thought to himself, gotta aim for the spine!
He corrected his aim, lifted the weapon and fired another double burst, catching each
men in the chest and tearing their ribcages open with a splash of black-green blood. Both
bodies fell, and Davison watched in disgust as albino toothed worms uncoiled themselves
from the shattered spines and tried to crawl away into hiding. Davison tracked them and
took them down with controlled bursts just as a Marine arrived on the scene.
Whats going on here? he demanded, looking at the destroyed bodies and the coat of
bubbling bile that coated the floor.
Weve been compromised, Davison replied, motioning to the destroyed albino worms
with the toe of his boot. Friggin glow-in-the-dark bugs...
Howd this happen? These crates have live cargo?
Jelly, Davison nodded towards the spilled canister. Must be tainted, pulled from the
wrong hive. Fuckin Garbonis...
Blow it, the Marine said, motioning to the collection of crates and containers. Get one
of the demo experts down here, rig them with explosive and flush them, I want them all
destroyed, and I want everyone armed with Dog-Choppers and burners. Sweep the ship,
clear it out. And bring that fuck Garbonis here, I want to know what the shitting hells hes
playing at.
Ben Black LXXIII
Even after the threat on Braxis has been eliminated, that isnt necessarily the end of the
campaign: the story can continue with a number of different scenarios, depending on how
you want to develop it.
The GarbonIs
After escaping from the decimated world of Braxis, a number of cargo containers have
been compromised during transit, including samples of jelly and the Lazarus compound.
The canisters of Royal Jelly were amongst the first to be tampered with, though the
substance in question wasnt jelly taken from a regular Alien Queen, but a Lazarus Queen.
This jelly has a mutating quality, as noted in previous sections, and leads to Lazarus
Humans being made. In their eagerness to get hold of more Jelly, more crates are torn
open, infecting samples of dead Aliens and Predators that have been brought aboard the
craft.
Also, unknown to the people travelling in the ship, more than just humans were picked up
when the ship dipped low into orbit and evacuated the survivors. In the deepest depths of
the craft, close to the reactor unit, a lone Yautja has stowed away aboard the craft, hoping
to make his own way back to what remains of his clan.
As the alien threat spreads throughout the vehicle, the Yautja prepares to conduct one
final hunt, while the tempers between Marines and Raiders can flare to fever pitch, forcing
the cast to pick a side or try and unite the two in a bid to eradicate the danger before the
ship is destroyed. With the one Berserker unit left to recuperate after its battle, its only a
matter of time until this armoured shell is reactivated, either through Lazarus infection or
replacement of the pilot.
Ben Black LXXIV
Leesons PoInt
Or maybe the journey to Leesons Point goes without a hitch. The Marines and the rest of
the cast are dropped off at one of the docks, forced at gunpoint to leave the ship, and the
Raiders take it upon themselves to offload some of their ill-gotten gains before moving on.
Jelly is the main cargo offloaded, though one eccentric billionaire is on the lookout for an
obscure pet, and is looking to buy a live alien, and Garbonis just happened to have stored
in a special stasis booth an inert egg, the seed within still unspent.
With his purchase locked up in a storage facility until he is ready to leave for his pleasure
moon, the eccentric billionaire leaves his unhatched pet and returns to his extravagant
lifestyle, unaware that Leesons Point is populated with a number of petty thieves that make
a living by raiding cargo lockers and selling what they can for a tidy profit.
One such thief stumbled across the egg, and falls prey to the facehugger within as the
egg is activated.
With the alien unleashed in the station, it can travel effortlessly between different areas
through the air ducts and conduits, and is able to smell the cargo of Jelly that remains on
the stations after a lockdown is initiated.
Should the alien find the Jelly, it is able to morph itself into a queen to start a hive in the
station, slowly overtaking it. Such an infestation would be a prime target for a Berserker
squad.
A squad that is already on the station, sitting waiting for a military convoy to pick them up
and issue them with a new platoon. Its up to the cast members to try and hunt down this
single alien, before it can create its own hive and completely overrun the station
Ben Black LXXV
Gates of Eden Colony Settler
A colony-class cruiser fitted out with enough supplies and materials to build atmosphere
processors and carrying hydroponics domes filled with plant and animal life, these crafts are
often deep space vehicles that can go for years without docking at a space station.
Often the targets for Raiders who seek the expensive equipment they carry, Gates of Eden
is no different, and has been targeted by The Garbonis, the Raiders on the lookout for an
easy way to make money after the failure on Braxis World.
The raid is a failure as the security forces repel the attack, but Raiders are not the type of
people you want to upset.
As a final act of vengence against the defence, the Raiders unleash some of their cargo
before disembarking, a small group of Aliens that tear through the ship, infecting men,
women and animals and completely wiping out the inhabitants of the ship, turning a colony
settler teeming with life into a ghostly hive-ship.
A ship like this is more than an ideal target for a Berserker unit, and one of the few
remaining squads from the Braxis incident on their way to their new assigned squads
happen to be close by. Despite the lack of R&R, theyre pushed back into battle.
The colony settler, peppered with seven different domes filled with different flora and
fauna, holds more than enough life for one hive: in fact, in the time it takes for the
Berserker squad to arrive at the ship, there are no less than three separate hives aboard the
craft, with the aliens waging a war against one another as they struggle to survive and claim
the entire ship as their own.
With the Aliens squabbling among one another, the cast may well think that theyre in for
an easier job with the genocidal war, but thats far from the truth.
Ben Black LXXVI
Mv-786 Mensana
A mist-shrouded almost twice as large as Earth, this mysterious planet is deep in the
furthest reaches of space that has barely been charted, though deep space probes indicate
that there is a massive amount of life readings.
An expedition of surveyors land on the planet to explore what lies there so they can
assess if the world is suitable for colonisation, only to find the surface of the planet is littered
with hive constructions, spaced around seven or eight hundred miles apart. With
confirmation that the planet is grossly over-infested the explorers drop a probe and move to
leave, but theyre not the only craft in orbit above the planet.
The freshly christened Clan Ship Kal Murall, the Death Seeker, is a Yautja craft on a
mission to extract an egg-laying Hard Meat for their hunting purposes.
With the disaster of Braxis fresh in the minds of the hunters, they open fire on the human
craft, sending it crashing down to the surface, but not before they release a distress call.
The distress call eventually reaches a relay station and gets passed on to Marine
Command unit, who issue an order to a heavily armed MOX unit to conduct a rescue
mission.
The planet is an unknown factor, and if it truly is the home world of the Alien, then whos
to say that there arent any natural predators to the bugs, an unseen creature that, unlike
the deadly parasitic creatures that seem to be able to spread across the galaxy at the drop
of a hat, are rooted firmly on the surface of Mensanna. It could be that the Aliens arent at
the top of the food chain, and if thats the case, then where does that leave the humans?
Ben Black LXXVII
Deep Space:
Zeta ReItculI sector:
Darkness engulfed her gargantuan form as she spiralled through the immense gulf of
space, her limbs drawn in and coiled into a foetal position she hadn't experienced since
her birth.
The depths of the endless void were freezing cold, though she couldn't feel it through
her thickened chitinous hide or in the acidic blood that flowed through her veins. Tendrils
of opaque saliva flowed from her mouth, frozen pendants hanging like stalactites in a
subterranean cave.
She had no conception of time, couldn't tell how long she had lain dormant in suspended
animation while she had drifted past moons and planetoids, celestial bodies far from her
grasp. As she slept, she remembered her children, the hundreds of her brood that had
been lost in the searing white fire that had engulfed her nest. She remembered the
woman warrior who had obliterated her hive; who had fought her with a metal construct,
seared her flesh, and threw her from the flying platform she had infiltrated. She also
remembered the last of her children who had stowed away with her, felt their presence as
she slipped away from them, and sank into a state of limbo while she rested. Though it
had taken time; years perhaps, her rage and anger had subsided and gave way to a
sense of surreal calmness, for she knew that her time would come again, for she was
eternal.
Her slumber was disturbed as her enhanced senses detected something, an immense
presence, a concentration of life force she hadn't experienced in her lifetime: far stronger
than the creatures she had sensed around her previous nesting ground. Hundreds, maybe
thousands of potential hosts were nearby, and within her reach. They seemed to be
moving towards her, slowly approaching and bringing with it the chance of creating
another hive.
After what could have been a decade of being immobilised, her limbs stretched, talons
flexed, and the coiled prehensile tail slowly snaked out from around her. Shifting the
massive crown of her head, her lower jaw shifted forward from within the protective cowl
surrounding her muzzle, lips parting and teeth gleaming dimly in the faint light of the
nearest star. With a silent scream, the saliva caked around her mouth fractured and
broke away into crystals as she tried to move, to alter her trajectory and reach out to grip
one of the star ships as they passed by.
Her clawed hands brushed the slick metallic surface of the vehicle, and with mindless
ferocity she erupted into a violent fury, scrabbling with nails and tail to secure a strong
hold. Her fingers tore through the hull of the ship, and she created her own handholds as
she slowly heaved herself across the surface of the spacecraft.
As she moved closer towards a familiar panel on the surface, the mix of the vibrations of
the engine and the potency of the life force within the ship excited her, urging her
onwards as she moved towards her target. The frayed hull of the ship sliced her digits as
she moved, spewing crystals of frozen acid as she went, until she reached a control panel
beside a door marked 'Airlock'.
The writing meant nothing to her, as did the strange symbols on the controls, but she
knew these small pieces of plastic could help her: they had in the past, when the metal
cage had pulled her out the depths of her doomed nursery. They had also aided the
female warrior in throwing her from the ship.
She banged and pounded mindlessly at the controls, the blood from her fresh wounds
seeping onto the buttons and slowly melting through wiring behind them. The panel
Ben Black LXXVIII
erupted in a small shower of sparks, and the seam of the airlock parted, giving her a
space to work on with her ungodly strength as she pried to port open, heaving her
immense bulk into the ship and buckling slightly as the pull of gravity quickly dragged her
down. The weightlessness she had experienced for so long quickly lost, she lay in the
airlock as the door automatically sealed behind her and a rush of fresh air flooded into
the room, trying to become accustomed to the environment that she had been missing for
what seemed like a lifetime.
After she had rested and recovered, she would have to begin work on her new hive, and
she would have to move fast before she was discovered.
It Begins Once More....
Ben Black LXXIX
Additional Skills/ Aspects used:
Preternatural Strength +16
Devastating strength that can prove to be an incredibly tough opponent for the most battle-
hardened Berserker unit, the creature imbued with this miracle of science enjoys not only
domineering strength in battle, but an increase of 300 in lifepoints. Strength 20
Mother Knows Best +8
A special brand of intelligence shared by the Alien, this version of a Hive Mind allows
Aliens to sense what each other experiences, often using the Queen as a central
communication hub. As an extension to this, the creatures also have a genetic memory,
meaning that each creature is born with the same knowledge as the latter.
Elite Strength +12
An enhancement of the Monstrous strength aspect (AFMBE, page 151), the creature
imbued with this strength quality is quite capable of rending flesh, bone, concrete and steel.
Crushing a skull is no problem for anything with this level of strength as its joints, even
finger joints, are as strong as pneumatic pistons. Strength 10
Unnatural Strength +13,
And you thought Elite Strength was tough! Making the tough impossibly tougher, this
knocks the strength of the creature up to a level unheard of, making it a rarity to behold
and something few would live to tell the tale of. Strength 15
Legendary Hero rules: See AFMBE Pulp Zombies
Essence Channelling, Ain!t Got Time to Bleed, Balance of the Cat, Running the
Gauntlet, Iron Palm: see Enter The Zombie
Wall Crawl aspect: See Zombie Master Screen/ Coffee break Of The Living Dead
No Pain aspect, Rage aspect: See Atlas Of The Dead
Ben Black LXXX
Everyone on the Eden discussion boards for passing on comments and positive feedback
that spurned me on to pull my finger out and work on the sequel as soon as possible, and
the ideas that came together.
Old Lord Skull and kind folks and www.oldlordskull.com, for hosting the original write-up of
the first instalment and keeping me informed of the 400+ downloads that was a contributing
factor to me making this sequel. Hopefully, hell host this, too.
Blue Oyster Cult, Iron Maiden, Motorhead, Marilyn Manson, Aerosmith... to name but a
few of the bands I listened to long into the night. Without the constant beats and rhythms
you provided, Im sure my head would have bounced off the keyboard a lot more than it
actually did.
Darkhorse: The comics, the novels, the general expansion of the Aliens universe that took
us beyond the film.
Books used this time around...
All Flesh Must Be Eaten Core Rule book The Bible of Zombie RPG
Atlas Of The Dead All Flesh Supplement
Aliens: Berserker Graphic Novel
Aliens : Hive Graphic Novel
Aliens : Rogue Graphic Novel
Aliens : Stronghold Graphic Novel
Aliens Versus Predator: War Graphic Novel
Aliens: Tribes Graphic Novel (ish. Kinda.)
Aliens: Berserker Paperback Novel
Aliens: Harvest Paperback Novel
Aliens: Rogue Paperback Novel
Aliens: Labyrinth Paperback Novel
Visual material:
3D people, Predators, Aliens and craft posed and rendered in Poser 5. Models and
textures supplied by Daz3D, Sixus-1, TBKoen and Sparkies World.
Photograph of Nostromo (Styx Cargo Hauler) taken by me. Model supplied by some sweet
company in Hong Kong. When I say sweet company, I mean a company that made sweets
and included models. Kinda like Kinder Eggs. I dont know if that means anything to the
American viewers...
Ben Black LXXXI
Square Enix: If you hadnt released three or four Final Fantasy games in the space of six
months I would have completed this a damn sight sooner.
Real Life: your constant bombardment of bills and going to work and things like that is a
never ending charade that I always have to put up with. Until my numbers come up in the
lottery, you will continue to be the bane of my existence.
The dumb bastard that installed Diablo II on my laptop. Wait, that was me...
The Druids. Because sometimes we need more than 24 hours in a day.
Alien, Aliens, Alien3 and Alien Resurrection, Predator, Predator 2 and Aliens Versus
Predator: AVP are trademarks of 20th Century Fox. Fox are in now way affiliated with the
production of this document. Ill be honest, they probably wont know this document exists.
And if they do? Hey, make Alien 5 and make it not suck.
Additional material outside the films based on graphic novels and paperback books by
Darkhorse and Bantam respectively.
All Flesh Must Be Eaten, corresponding rule books and adventure add-ons such as Enter
The Zombie, Pulp Zombie, Atlas of the Dead, the Unisystem et al are property and
trademarks of Eden Studios.
Ben Black LXXXII

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