Character Name: Eagle
Alternate Identities: Ernest Ts'aak, Ern (never Ernie)
Player Name: NPC
Val Char Base Points Total Roll Notes
24 STR 10 14 24 14- HTH Damage 4 1/2d6 END [2]
28 DEX 10 54 28 15- OCV 9 DCV 9
29 CON 10 38 29 15-
11 BODY 10 2 11 11-
14 INT 10 4 14 12- PER Roll 12-
14 EGO 10 8 14 12- ECV: 5
19 PRE 10 9 19 13- PRE Attack: 3 1/2d6
12 COM 10 1 12 11-
20 PD 5 15 20 20 PD (10 rPD)
19 ED 6 13 19 19 ED (9 rED)
6 SPD 3.8 22 6 Phases: 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12
11 REC 11 0 11
60 END 58 1 60
39 STUN 38 1 39
6" Running 6 0 6"
2" Swimming 2 0 2"
5" Leaping 5 1 5 1/2" 183 Total Characteristics Points
Total earned: 0
Spent: 0
Unspent: 0
Base Points: 200
Disad Points: 150
Total Points: 350
Type Total
Run (6) 6"
Swim (2) 2"
H. Leap (5") 5 1/2"
V. Leap (2") 2 1/2"
Type Amount
Physical Defense 20
Res. Phys. Defense 10
Energy Defense 19
Res. Energy Defense 9
Mental Defense 0
Power Defense 0
OCV: 9 DCV: 9
Combat Skill Levels: +4 with Missile Deflection
Maneuver Phase OCV DCV Effect
Range 0-4 5-8 9-16 17-32 33-64 65-128
RMOD 0 -2 -4 -6 -8 -10
Cost  Disadvantage
10 Distinctive Features: Mutant (Not Concealable; Always Noticed and Causes Major Reaction; Detectable Only By Unusual Senses)
10 Distinctive Features: Winged Human (Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses)
20 Hunted: Genocide 8- (Mo Pow, NCI, Harshly Punish)
5 Physical Limitation: Minor (Infrequently, Slightly Impairing)
10 Physical Limitation: Young (Infrequently, Greatly Impairing)
20 Psychological Limitation: Ardent Ecologist (Very Common, Strong)
10 Psychological Limitation: Nags others about being 'Green' (Common, Moderate)
5 Reputation: Member of Green Peace, 8-
15 Social Limitation: Minority(mutant) (Very Frequently, Minor)
15 Social Limitation: Secret ID (Frequently, Major)
10 Susceptibility: Airborne Toxins (Bug spray, etc.) 1d6 damage per Turn (Uncommon)
10 Vulnerability: 2 x BODY Toxin-based Attacks (Uncommon)
10 Vulnerability: 2 x STUN Toxin-based Attacks (Uncommon)
150 Total Disadvantages Cost

Character Name: Eagle
Alternate Identities: Ernest Ts'aak, Ern (never Ernie)
Player Name: NPC
Cost  Name
3 Acrobatics 15-
0 Acting 8-
0 AK: Southern Alaska 8-
2 Animal Handler (Raptors) 13-
3 Breakfall 15-
3 Climbing 15-
3 Concealment 12-
0 Conversation 8-
0 Deduction 8-
2 KS: Western North American Fauna 11-
2 KS: Western North American Flora 11-
2 KS: Haida Herb Lore 11-
0 Language: English (Idiomatic)
0 Language: Haida (Idiomatic)
0 PS: Student 11-
3 Paramedics 12-
0 Persuasion 8-
3 Shadowing 12-
3 Stealth 15-
4 Survival (Arctic/Subarctic Forests, Mountain, Temperate/Subtropical Coasts) 12-
0 TF: Small Motorized Ground Vehicles
3 Tracking 12-
1 WF: Bows
37 Total Skills Cost
Cost  Name
3 Bump Of Direction
3 Total Talents Cost
Cost  Power END
50 Wing Tricks: Multipower, 75-point reserve, all slots : Wings Are Restrainable (-1/2)
1) Wing Wind: Dispel Fire Powers 20d6, One At A Time (+1/4); : Wings Are Restrainable (-1/2)
Notes: This power represents the user's ability to blow out flames by using his wings to create a massive gust.
2) Wing Buffet: Energy Blast 8d6+1, Double Knockback (+3/4); : Wings Are Restrainable (-1/2), Does Not Work Under Water Or In Vacuum (-1/4)
Notes: This power represents the user's ability to blow a target from their feet with a gust of wind created by his wings.
3) Steal The Wind: Suppress: Flight or Gliding 12d6, One Power At A Time (+1/4); Only works on flight/gliding requiring an atmosphere (-1/2), : Wings Are Restrainable (-1/2)
Notes: This power represents the user's ability to temporarily disrupt the very air another flyer is using to support themselves. This power works on any flight the requires an atmosphere such as aircraft, birds, hovercraft, missiles, etc. It will not work flight that utilizes anti-gravity, magic or the like.
4) Wing Tornado: Energy Blast 7d6+1, Area Of Effect (4" Radius; +1); : Wings Are Restrainable (-1/2), Does Not Work Under Water Or In Vacuum (-1/4)
Notes: This power represents the user's ability to create a small tornado and use its power to batter an opponent.
27 Wings: Flight 20"; Restrainable (-1/2)
Notes: This power is based on natural wings and so can be restrained by normal means.
15 Wing Shield: Missile Deflection (Bullets & Shrapnel) (15 Active Points); Costs Endurance (-1/2), Restrainable (-1/2) plus +4 with Missile Deflection
Notes: The user is able to use his wings to deflect incoming attack that have a physical component, bullets, arrows, etc.
9 Tough Skin: Damage Resistance (10 PD/9 ED)0
6 Eagle's Eyes: +13 versus Range Modifier for Normal Sight0
3 Haida Medicine Pouch: Healing BODY 1d6; OAF: Various Herbs, etc. Expendable (Difficult to obtain new Focus; -1 1/4), 6 Charges (-3/4)[6]
127 Total Powers Cost

Character Name: Eagle
Alternate Identities: Ernest Ts'aak, Ern (never Ernie)
Player Name: NPC
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Brown
Height: 6' 0"
Weight: 150 lbs

            Two bald eagles circled over the bay as the photographer adjusted the focus on his camera.  Something flashed across the lens, little more than a blur and he lifted his head to scan the sky through unaided eyes.  There it was.  The biggest bird he’d ever seen.  Lifting the camera, he caught the creature in the frame, and nearly dropped his Nikon.  Regaining his target he fired off every shot he could, following his subject across the sky until it disappeared into the dark green of the distance forest.  Only when he was sure it wasn’t coming back did he lower the camera.  It had been a fresh roll, 36 shots.  Some had to come out.

            Shivering in excitement he carefully packed the Nikon in the padded aluminum case and snapped it shut while flipping the tumblers on the locks.  Clutching the case to his chest like the treasure it was he stumbled back to the turn out and climbed into the car.  The case seat-belted into the passenger’s seat and flinging gravel, he headed south.


             “Goddamn cheap sons-a-bitches!” he growled three days later.  He glared at the offending scrap of paper in his hand.  Three hundred buck!  A lousy three hundred bucks for pictures of a flying kid!   What kind of shit was that?  The harsh buzz of his doorbell made him crumple the check in his fist and as he yanked the door open he snarled “What do ya want?”

            “Mr. Richmond?” A man in the tailored black suit held up a leather wallet with a gold shield and FBI identification.

            Irritation morphed into guilt even though there was no rational reason.  The man held up an 8x10 copy of one of his shots he’d taken of the flying boy.

            “Where was this taken?” 


             The black SUV with tinted windows all around rolled up to the town’s only diner and parked.  The four men that climbed out sent an instant alert to the entire populace.  Feds.   No local police ever dressed like that, not in Alaska.

            The youngest of the group stepped quickly up to the diner and held the door for his three elders.  The man that entered first stopped just inside and scanned the room.  Thirteen occupants, two servers, the cook and ten customers.  Seven women, six men, all over the age of thirty.

            “What can I do for you,” one of the waitresses said in a flat tone.

            “I am looking for Ernest Task,” the man said.

            “Task?” She looked puzzled.  “We got no Tasks in this town.”

            The man pulled a note pad from the inside pocket of his coat and consulted it.

            “T S A A K,” he spelled.

            “What chu want Ern for?” a weathered man in his sixties asked.

            “Government business,” the man replied.

            “You got a warrant?” another man asked.

            “We just need to talk to him,” the agent said.  “As far as we know he has broken no laws.”

            “Them whalers again, I bet,” the weathered man said.

            “Ern ain’t been out on the boat in months,” another said.

            “Probably them loggers then,” said a third.

            “Boy sure don’t like loggers,” the weathered man agreed.

            The agent broke in. “Where can we find him?”

            “Probably out in the woods,” the weathered man replied.  The other two nodded sagely.

            “How do we find him?”

            “You wait,” the weathered man replied and returned to his coffee.

            A woman pushed into the diner and turned to confront the four FBI agents.  She was quite beautiful with light brown skin, long black hair and the most startling turquoise eyes anyone had ever seen in a Native American face.  She was also mad as hell.

            “What do you want Ern for?” she demanded.

            “And you are?” the lead agent asked.

            “The one that’s going to decide if you see him or not,” she said, fists settling on her hips.

            “Ma’am, this is a matter of national security,” the lead agent replied.  “We can arrest him if we need to.”

            The woman snorted.  “Not if he don’t want you to,” she said.

            The lead agent glanced at his three companions, “Get some coffee.”

            “We might be out,” the waitress said.

            “That’s okay, Alice,” the woman said.

            “Can we take this outside, ma’am?” the agent said, holding the door open for her.

            She glared at him for a long moment then stepped out into the cool morning and briskly headed north along the town’s only street.  The agent was forced to quick-step in order to catch up but when he did it, was obvious she wasn’t in the mood for talk.  Silently he followed her to the last house along the road.  Outside towered six totem poles.

            She led him around the house into an open sided shed where a partially carved totem pole lay on sawhorses.  Picking up a wooden mallet and chisel she stepped up to the log and placed the edge of the chisel along a line drawn in white chalk.

            “What national security?” she asked, tapping the butt of the chisel.

            He laid a photograph of the flying boy on the log beside her cut.

            “You are Mrs. Task?”

            “Ts’aak,” she said.  “Yes.”

            He plucked the picture up just as she returned to tapping the chisel.

            “Even up here in the woods, we know about Photoshop,” she said.

            “Ma’am my name is Miller, Special Agent Miller and I have been assigned by the President of the United States to find, recruit and train what the media is calling metahumans for the purposes of National Security.”

            “President himself, huh?” she said flatly.

            “Yes ma’am,” he replied.  “Your son is a meta.”

            “And you want to draft him into your army?”

            “Not Army, ma’am,” Miller said.  “This is not a military unit.”

            She brushed wood chips away.

            “So, service to his country,” she said.  “My father did his service to his country and didn’t come back from your war over in Southeast Asia.  We got a letter and a medal and a folded flag.  We didn’t even get his body.”

            “Ma’am, this is voluntary,” Miller said.  “And for his services he will be given a college education plus anything else he needs.”

            She turned to face him, the chisel held up like a knife.

            “So, you think you can buy my son with a college education?”

            Miller took an involuntary step back.

            “Tell me of this college education,” a voice came from behind the agent.

            He turned to find a bare-chested youth of about 16 staring hard at him through the same eyes as his mother.  Dark brown feathered wings were folded tightly across his back.

            “It starts with school, the President insisted that the candidates receive the best schooling we can give them in the college of their choice before they even begin service,” Miller said.  “That includes high school.  You will be with others of your kind, train with them, go to class with them.”

            “Other of his kind?” the woman said.  “We are his kind.”

            “There are others with wings like me,” the boy asked.

            “No,” Miller said.  “Not so far.”

            “Where is this school?”

            “San Diego.”

            “And I can take any college courses I want?”

            Miller nodded.  “Any.”

            “What are my terms of service?”

            “We haven’t worked that out yet,” Miller said.  “We are just now gathering the first class.”

            “How many so far?”

            “You will make seven.”

            The boy turned and spread his wings.  Taking two steps he powered into the sky.  Miller stepped quickly out of the shed and watched him circle then disappear into the trees.

            “What now?” he said, turning back to the woman.

            “Now you go get coffee,” she replied, returning her attention to the wood.


             “I can stay, and be a fisherman,” the boy said.  “I can marry a local girl and give you fat grandchildren.  I can watch my children grow up to be fishermen and marry locals.”

            His mother laid a hand on his arm.  They sat as the kitchen table, a fish stew cooling in mismatched soup bowls.

            “Their world is strange to us, even in this day and age,” she said.  “Your grandfather . . .”

            “My grandfather went to serve his country proudly,” the boy replied.  “I can do no less.”

            His mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

            “If it is what you want, my son.”


             It was strange sitting in a chair in a metal cylinder instead of soaring with the eagles but Ern would rather have been with the eagles.  At least they had spirits, not like this beast in whose belly he flew now.  Everything about the airplane screamed ‘wrong’ to him.  It was smelly and billowed great grey clouds of poison.  He shook his head.  It was wrong.


             As he stepped out of the terminal building a wave of heat washed over him and he steeled himself.  One more thing, he thought, and then his eyes met aquamarine blue.

            She was shorter by several inches, with long lustrous hair the color of black walnut and she looked as nervous as he.  He nodded slightly; she flushed and lowered her eyes.  It was then he realized that she too was being escorted by two men in black suits.  They met at the curb beside the ubiquitous black SUV and one of the escorts pulled open the door.

            “Miss,” he said.

            She stepped up and slid across the seat to press against the opposite door.

            “Sir,” the agent said to Ern.

            He stepped up and also slid across the seat, stopping with an inch of space between their thighs.  The agent slammed the door and Ern realized the man hadn’t joined them in the truck.  Rather than a quick retreat to ‘his’ side of the vehicle, he held out a hand.

            “Ernest Ts’aak,” he said.

            Hesitantly the girl took his hand.

            “Shannon Flores,” she replied.

             He nodded then slid across the truck but not to the point he was leaning on the door.

            “Are you a meta, too?” she whispered.

            He nodded and she looked relieved.

            “They said there would be others but you’re the only other so far,” she said then lapsed into silence, staring at her laced fingers.

            “I have the wings of an eagle,” he said quietly wanting to get it out before he did something to shock her with his secret.

            She glanced across at him.

            “Where do you hide them?” she asked.

            He shrugged.  “They fold pretty small.”

            It was then he realized he was staring.  It was impossible not to.  The girl was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen and for some reason he wanted to soar through the skies with her.  Tearing his eyes from her he noted through the windshield they were approaching a gated fence with two armed guards.

            No effort was made to delay them and the truck swept around a curve, the blue of the ocean coming into view.  This heartened him, knowing he would still have the sea in his life.  He might not be running long lines but it was there if he needed it.  The girl next to his made a soft sound and he turned to her.

            “It’s so beautiful,” she said in a small voice.

            “Yes,” he agreed.

            “I am from Minnesota, we only have lakes.”

            “Alaska,” he replied.

            The vehicle rolled to a stop and Agent Miller pulled open the door on the girl’s side.

            “Ms. Flores,” he said as she stepped down.  “Mr. Task.”  Ernest didn’t bother to correct the man.  “This way.”

            He lead them into the center section of a four story building that looked as if it had just been erected and as they stepped into the air conditioned and circular entry, it smelled like it too.   The place was furnished in ‘government standard’ with a reception desk, ugly carpet and three couches that looked stiff enough to bounce a rock.  Five people of about his age sat awkwardly on the edge of their seat, one with his back ramrod straight.  Miller indicated the couches.

            “Sit,” he commanded.

            Ern moved to the only open seats on a couch with an angry looking black girl currently being deafened by the music blaring from the ear buds she had screwed into her ears.  He paused to offer Shannon her choice of the two remaining seats.  She chose to seat as far from the black girl as possible.  He sat between them suddenly feeling like it was right that he should be the one between her and the unknown other girl.  Once they were settled, Agent Miller turned on his heel and head down the left wing of the building.

            Detached, Ern scanned each of the others trying to determine what might make them metas.  With an internal sigh he resigned himself to being the only one in the group with outward signs of his ‘difference’.   Catching the continuing glare from the black girl he shifted his attention back to his fellow SUV passenger.  She looked as if she wanted to bolt.  He started to lean toward her to offer a friendly word when the doors opened.

            A skinny black kid stepped in as if he owned the place.  He swept the room, his eyes coming to rest on the hostile girl next to Ern.  With barely a check in his step he marched over to Ern and put his fists on his hips.  Ern regarded him silently until the boy started to fidget.  That lasted about ten more second.

            “Can I sit there?” the boy pointed to the gap beside the black girl.

            Ern glanced at the three inch gap between Shannon’s and his thigh then silently rose and stepped over to her opposite side.  Completely relaxed, he stood with his arms motionless at his sides while the pre-teen kid dropped into his just vacated spot with a smug look of satisfaction.  Shannon looked up at him with a question in her eyes but when he said nothing she returned to studying their fellows.  Something brushed his hip and came to rest there, her arm on the arm of the couch.

            “Alright!” Miller snapped, drawing their attention.  “This way to orientation.”  He pointed with an outstretched arm down the left hall.  “Second door on the right.”


If you have questions or comments please contact