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| Pandora's Blood; The RP Thread | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 30 2008, 11:27 PM (753 Views) | |
| Squall250 | Nov 6 2008, 10:24 PM Post #16 |
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The serpentine beast's tongue flicked out once, twice, and then its tail lashed out, bursting through the wall and into the hallway, directly in Robert's path. The tail whipped up and down wildly, effectively blocking the path entirely. "Retract the tail!" Terra yelled, knowing full well there was only one reason he'd have done that. Within about the same frame of time it had taken the beast to push its tail through the wall, Terra's hands had drawn her guns, each now holding one pointed directly at the snake's tail. "Pull it back or I'll blow it off." She was hesitant to create direct hostilities with this beast, at least right now. Her hope was to chase it off for now, though she knew it was false. She leaned towards Chaim slightly, even as the snake pulled his tail from the wall, reluctantly. It knew full well that she would do it, and that she could. Such a situation would be undesirable. "Leave, join Robert and the girl, go to the garage. There should be a few trucks or something there, get out and drive. I'll follow your tracks." Her tone left no room for debate, "It's that or I'll be killed protecting you. There's something special about the three of you, as the Demon identified. Go, and we'll find a way to fix things." The instant the snake's tail was fully within the room, it leapt up, bursting through the ceiling and vanishing within seconds. Terra shot her gaze at Chaim, "Go, now! I'll try to save this shelter, you have to live to fight another day. I'll join you soon!" She leapt over the bed, looking up at the hole. He'd gone up several levels. A faint glow engulfed her feet, and she leapt up through the hole, jumping from floor to floor through the wreckage he'd created. On the fifth level she spotted him, his tail vanishing down the corner. She ran after, right into his trap. The serpent lunged at her, mouth agape. A smirk, and Terra leapt, flipping over the monster's head, eliciting a hiss from the creature's wide open maw. Even as she'd jumped, she pointed her guns, a faint glow flowing from her hands to the barrels. Upside-down now, she aimed both down, releasing two pulsating golden rounds into the base of his head. The force from the bullets slammed him to the ground with an even louder hiss, leaving a pair of small craters in his armored scales, and as Terra's feet landed lightly on his back he began thrashing violently. "I've practiced since last we met, snake." She growled, as she lowered herself down, balancing, however shakily, on his back. He stopped, and Terra cocked her head. "In that case, I shall simply crush this building around you!" Came the angry hiss, and the snake took off down the hallway, the sudden movement sending her sprawling to her back with a grunt. At least two minutes had passed now since the snake had torn his way up to the fifth level, and she hoped that had bought enough time for everyone to get out. She rose to her feet quickly, running after the beast and finding another pathway he'd torn towards the ground. "He's underground now." She said quietly, and no sooner had she said it than the shelter began to shake wildly. She cursed, aiming her gun up and firing a glowing round up through the ceiling, blasting a hole in it through which she leapt to the rooftop. "Hope this works." She muttered, kneeling down as the structure beneath her began to crumble. The idea was to ride the wreckage to the ground, as she wasn't especially keen on the idea of a six story leap. |
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| tormenteddragon | Nov 7 2008, 01:02 AM Post #17 |
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It can't be said that Robert expected the snake's reaction to be what it was. He did not know that it would barrel its tail through the solid wall to block his path. But he was certainly not surprised to see the gigantic, thrashing weapon in front of him, and so his reaction was not delayed. He immediately halted his flight, and leapt backwards, just out of reach of the snake's coils. "Varrana," he said, as he put her down, "we are evacuating. We're going to gather some necessities and then we're getting out. Either stick with me or go straight to the garage. Either way, do not stop for any reason." Hopefully she would have the presence of mind to do so. There was no time to stand around in shock, especially as the quick route had been cut off to them. The other way was wide open, however, and as he ran down the corridor nothing came crashing through the wall to block his path. Each time he ran across another of the panic buttons, he pounded it once again, hoping that someone would have the presence of mind to realize that this was an evacuation situation, not a lockdown situation. As he came to the path that would lead him to the garage, however, he turned instead down another corridor. This route took longer, yes, but took them to one of the special evacuation rooms. These rooms were stocked with evacuation packs, which, if they wanted to live for very long after leaving the shelter, would be essential. He hoisted a couple onto his shoulders, with a shouted command of "grab what you can!" to Varrana, and made sure that he had medical supplies before rushing from the room and towards the garage. The building, by this time, was shaking and groaning, and given that it was built to withstand worst that nature could throw at it, that was downright frightening. Shouts and screams could be heard echoing through the corridors, as people realized just how serious the situation was, and panic began to set in. But there was, of course, no time for panic. Robert pounded his way to the nearest vehicle, a jeep with a mounted chain-gun, and tossed the supplies in, yelling to Varrana to get it started. Without a backward glance, he ran to the armory, and started gathering up weaponry. This shelter, as sturdy as it was, had not long to live, and that meant an extended period of travel. They would not survive without weapons. |
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| Zylo | Nov 11 2008, 09:53 PM Post #18 |
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Chaim had to be an idiot. Or just bloody out of his mind. One way or the other, there was certainly something wrong with him. He had every intention of standing there and dying. It wasn't that he thought himself invincible, or that he figured he was better than everyone else. It was moreso the thought that he was known by nearly everyone in that shelter, so he figured that perhaps if he died then he would be seen as a martyr. And it wasn't that he wanted to be seen as a martyr for the sake of his own reputation. It was that he intended to be a catalyst. If he died, they'd mourn. And in their mourning, they would get upset. This upset would build into anger, the anger into want. The want to avenge him would merge with the want to protect themselves. And then they would come together, truly, and find a way to defeat these creatures. Aah, idealistic fantasies. Perhaps. But, in the end, it was the idealists who would rise up because those who had no hope or faith would merely wither and die. However, it seemed as though today was not the day for this to live out. Her words made sense and he didn't want her to die senselessly. She was the only one that he knew of who had the power to stop these creatures, or at least hold them at bay. On a larger scale, she was a trump card that they could not afford to lose, that the world could not afford to lose. She was a weapon, as much as he loathed to compare people to inanimate objects, especially ones meant for destruction. But, she was not a weapon of destruction. He saw her as a woman, and as a weapon of rebirth. She could save the world, but she'd need help. And if he died he couldn't help her. And, hell, if she died she couldn't save the world. "Alright. Make sure you live. I still have more questions." He was calm, too calm. He didn't even run for his life. He sighed and shook his head to himself, then walked out, heading down towards the armory to begin with. After a moment, he started running. Yet, his face was stoic. He was running because it was the quicker way to get there. When he arrived, he picked his weapons carefully, even if he grabbed a bit in excess. He didn't know what the others could use, but he knew what he could use and that consisted with... well, just about everything, but he had the ones he excelled in and made sure to gather a wide variety of options. He made sure to grab ammunition, taking four bags full of different things, two over each shoulder. They were heavy, weighed him down a great deal, but he didn't stop. His next stop was the garage, but he wasn't ready to leave just yet. He had to get these bags off his shoulders if he hoped to grab anyone. So he threw them off inside of a recon vehicle, a six by six. He knew he would need them. And he would need a vehicle this size. He opened the back hatch and made sure to get one more thing up inside of there before he left, a... personal item, he supposed. He had come to this place with this item and he would leave this place with it. After he closed the hatch, he was taking off towards the basement. He had yet to see anyone, though, so perhaps they were all hiding still. Or worse. And he wondered of Robert and Varanna. But, he didn't have the time to think about it. He had to get things done and he knew it. But when he reached the basement, he realized he would have much rather thought about Robert and Varrana. The ground was shaking, the people had started to flee. The children were sitting there still, in a corner, screaming and crying. They had been abandoned... Well, he would not abandon them. "Hurry, this way!" His voice rang out over the sound of the rumbling. His calm demeanor seemed to have an immediate effect on them. They were shaking and crying, some calling out for their parents and others even calling out for him. But, they all hurried towards him as he led them out and back through towards the evacuation rooms. He didn't realize that Robert and himself had the same train of thoughts, just in the different order, but that didn't matter now. He took them all through the rooms and had each of the children grab one, grabbing three of them in his arms and picking up Eliza with them. She wasn't moving fast enough and he had no intention of leaving anyone behind. Back down towards the garage, they were almost there. They were close, so close, but the way the ground waas shaking and the building was beginning to fall apart was weighing heavily on his mind. He knew something bad was about to happen. And then it did. A large piece of the ceiling fell, missing him only barely. It smashed down on the tightly held group of children, though. He had turned just in time to have his face covered in blood. They were there, at the entrance of the garage, right there at where they needed to get, and this had to happen... His calm demeanor broke, inside he shattered, but outside he did his best to keep as strong as possible. "Eliza," he said quietly, "go get in that vehicle..." He pointed her towards the recon vehicle and handed her off the bags. He reached up under the debris, trying his hardest to lift it, but to no avail. It was then that he heard the cry. He wondered if he hadn't heard it before because he was lost in this sense of horrific amazement and disgust. But he ran to the other side quickly, seeing the young boy who was halfway beneath the piece of roof. This was... unacceptable. Chaim knelt down, using all his might and then some, though he didn't know where he got this strength from, to raise the debris up, enough to reach a hand down and pull the boy out. Dropping it, he picked the child up carefully, taking him to the vehicle. Now would have been a good time for Robert to show up. Chaim was no medic. |
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| Squall250 | Dec 26 2008, 09:30 PM Post #19 |
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At her height, six stories up from the ground, the strong winds took hold of her cloak, creating a violent storm that swirled around her as she crouched atop the roof. Her blue eyes opened slowly as the building beneath her trembled from a power anyone who wasn't a vegetable would fear. Nothing should have been able to tear apart this shelter, yet below them, at this very minute, a power inhuman worked to prove otherwise. She just hoped she had bought time for the others to get out alive. Beneath her, the building began to crumble. The part of the building that started to fall first, however, made her curse under her breath. She looked back, seeing that she now stood at a level higher than the rest of the roof. Another curse. The building was starting to fall in first on the side opposite her. There was no predicting how this thing would crumble with the way it was being torn down. The other side could fall in and then she could be left to topple over with the entire northern wall. Or it could just be an erratic mess and create a vacuum, pulling her into the center of the collapsing mass and crushing her within the rubble. Deciding to let the building fall how it would, she held her position, looking towards the center of the roof to see how it would fall. At first, it looked like it was sinking in on the southern side, opposite her. But then the supports collapsed in the center, and the middle of the roof fell in, and the vacuum she had feared seemed to be creating itself. The southern end was still lower, but the hole in the roof was quickly becoming larger, and if she stayed where she was she'd be fed to the gaping maw of the dying shelter. It was only a few more precious seconds before she realized that was her answer. She stepped back just a little bit, until she was directly standing on the north wall of the shelter. As the building collapsed upon itself, the wall would be the last part to go, falling inwards and creating a slant which she hoped to use for her escape. She couldn't run down a straight wall, but perhaps she might just manage a steep slope. It didn't take long before she was given the opportunity to test her idea. She felt the wall beginning to give way beneath her and braced herself. There was nothing but a pit in front of her now, and if the wall managed to throw her into it she was done for. She turned, waiting until the last possible second to make her move. As she felt gravity pulling her towards the hole, she leaned forward. It was a steep slant, certainly more than she should be trying to run down, but she didn't have a lot of choice in the matter. She started running and focused her energy into her feet, using her power to try and steady herself as she ran down the wall. It could have just as easily been called falling, considering gravity only lent itself to her speed, but she managed to maintain a semblance of control. Halfway down the second story, she leaped. Her 'fall' seemed to stop for a fraction of a second, and then she was thrown forwards and slightly up, just enough to break the momentum that would otherwise have stopped fatally on the ground. She landed in the soft, loose dirt—barely more than sand—with a painful-looking roll and a loud grunt. The roll ended with her on her back, lying almost perfectly still, save her slow, labored breaths. That was quite possibly the most insane thing she had ever done, and she took a few moments to gather herself as the building—now roughly five yards behind her—fell to the ground in a large explosion of dust. Terra knew there was no time to relax, but she was finding it hard to move right now. She just hoped she wasn't the only one to have made it out alive. |
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| Zylo | Mar 25 2009, 02:47 AM Post #20 |
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There was no more shelter. That was what it had come down to. It was gone, destroyed. And what about their hope for salvation from this Hell on Earth? Did it even matter? Besides Eliza and the quickly fading little boy, the children were dead. The boy would be soon, though Chaim didn't have it in him to tell the child so. Those who had made it outside were either afraid or had already fled and seeing as it lacked any order, it was very likely that they would all soon die. He moved quickly into the six by six and drove from the garage before it could collapse on him, which wasn't long awaiting. He was lucky tyo have made it out in time, though dodging the falling and fallen debris had more to do with instinctual skill than luck. Old habits died hard, he supposed. That he would so easily slip back into a militant thought pattern made it painfully obvious that he could not hide from what he was. There were no real soldiers any longer, except for the few exceptions who protected what they could and those who decided to choose a brigand's lifestyle over the protection of their fellow man. He could still recall first coming to in a world that was no longer his own, in a land devoured by the kinds of evil foretold in ancient prophecies and children's stories the same. A civilization destroyed and all these former soldiers, protectors of the people wanted to do was plunder and pillage like common medieval pirates. It had been a foolish endeavor when he first began, fighting these fools. He was better trained, higher skilled, a quicker thinker, a better tactician. He was a foreigner, a former soldier from an entirely militant nation. This country and it's people had grown too accustomed to having ultimate power, to not having to struggle for what they wanted, not having to fight just to survive. Back home, every breath was earned, every step fought for. His time serving had made him many things; a powerful warrior, a highly trained soldier, a cold-blooded killer, a skilled guerilla fighter, an ingenious scientist and even a test subject. He hadn't found many of his talents thay useful after being discharged, even less after the apocalypse. Now, perhaps, it seemed as though it was coming out whether useful or useless. He wasn't sure which, but he was positive that he would be finding out soon enough. Then he found something else. Amidst the latest wreckage, the incredibly strong woman had fallen. He wasn't sure just how he noticed it. If she called out to him, he had not heard her. If she had motioned, he had not seen it. He only knew that his eyes had been drawn there, to her presence. He slid the recon vehicle to a skidding halt as naturally as though he were driving a small car, telling Eliza to move to the back and stay put as he quickly jumped out and headed towards her. "Oy, you need to get looked at." His calm demeanor was not totally back yet, but it was returning. "I didn't see Robert around yet, but we can find a doctor if we must. Do you need help moving?" He stepped forward, prepared quite simply to carry her if need be. And to him, it was that simple. |
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| Squall250 | Dec 28 2009, 06:52 PM Post #21 |
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Stumbling footsteps carried a lone form across the yellow wastes, a cloud of dust in the distance behind her warning of an approaching storm. If she even noticed, though, she didn't seem to care, pressing on with what little she had left, each unsteady footstep bringing her that much closer to oblivion. The torn remains a violet cloak whipped around her form in the wind; tangled, dirty, blonde hair covering her eyes, reaching just to the top of her neck as it was, though it was clearly a bit longer than the mess would allow. She stumbled a few times, black leather boots catching on a rock or a crack in the broken earth; the plates on top of them protected her from hurting herself, but not from the near fall which followed. The cloak's sleeves were torn off, though the garment was clearly not designed that way. A tattered white t-shirt covered her upper body beneath the cloak. A pair of tight, tanned pants covered her legs, but these too had seen better days. Everything from the top of the knee down on the left pant leg was gone, and the front of the thigh on the right was shredded. Despite the obvious destruction of her clothing, though, the woman looked none the worse for wear. Dirty, yes; worn out and ragged, definitely. But there wasn't a wound to be found. Regardless of the woman's apparent good shape, she still needed food. And she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. Then there was the fact that she shouldn't even have been alive, and she knew it. She questioned it with every step she took. Why had she survived, when nobody else had? She had thought they'd escaped. Robert and Chaim should have gotten out before her, and she had essentially surfed down the building as it fell. The last thing she clearly remembered was Chaim approaching her and suggesting she get looked at. Just as she was starting to rise, the serpent had burst from the wreckage... And after that, everything was a blur. The best she could assume was that the snake had killed them all, and for whatever reason, spared her life. Or maybe she'd fought it off in a stupor. She just didn't know. “Why...” She questioned in a weak, broken voice. “Why me...” She paused as the wind picked up, whipping her cloak around her form once more, dust stinging her exposed skin and getting in her eyes. She reached up, rubbing them lightly and shaking her head. “I should have died with them.” Of course, at the rate she was going, there was a good chance that was going to happen anyways. Her bike had been lost, she'd been wandering for days and hadn't seen a soul. To top it all off, she couldn't remember when she'd eaten last. It wouldn't be long before she collapsed and couldn't move. Sighing, she took a look around, getting a feel for her surroundings. There were weathered, rocky hills to her right—north. To the south, her left, more plains, as well as to her west. Behind her, to the east, all she could make out was a cloud of dust. A sandstorm, she imagined, which would be upon her within the hour. She couldn't outrun it, and even though she'd survived as long as she had, there was no doubt in her mind that the storm would claim her. Her willpower gave out, and she fell to her hands and knees upon the dusty, decaying earth. There was no reason to go on anymore. Even if she could muster the strength to run, it wouldn't get her away from the storm. She could take cover in the hills, if she could reach them, but even then... She'd only be buying herself time. “Why... Ryst... Why did you do this...” Her eyes closed and she fell forward in the dirt, her consciousness fading as she heard the sandstorm growing closer, not realizing that it sounded more like a storm of motors than it did one of wind. |
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| tormenteddragon | Dec 29 2009, 01:56 AM Post #22 |
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Caesar's Legion, it was called. A caravan of transports, armed and armored, and the equally armed and armored patrol vehicles that escorted them, staffed by some of the toughest, no-nonsense people to ever lug a gun. So far as news traveled, it said that the Legion was the one way to travel and be sure to get there safe. Today, the Legion was doing a run from Southport to Old Salty, taking a few families and a bunch of trade goods. Things were a bit on edge; they'd seen smoke at Haven and gone to investigate, only to find the place reduced to rubble and slag. But somehow, there'd been one room that had survived, untouched, a path miraculously clear to the still-functioning door, though that had the grisly imprint of a grown man's body. Almost, it seemed, as if he'd been shielding the room somehow. And inside? The children. As Book had put it, a miracle. But children meant complications. Children meant more work for the families, and fewer guns at the ready. So it was that Caesar himself was up on the turret on Behemoth, his guns at the ready and the mounted piece primed for trouble. But right now... "You see something, Caesar?" "No, Shane. Not yet." "Got one of those hunches?" "Mm. Call it down, I want the search speeds for a while. Get the feeling there's something coming up we don't want to miss." "Will do, Caesar." In truth, his name was Marcus. But Book had studied history, more so than most of the Legion, and he'd told Marcus his name was that of one of the Roman Caesars, way back when. And thus, he was Caesar. He didn't complain. The name would have been pretentious if he'd given it himself. But the Legion had liked it, and they'd given it to him, and then called themselves his. And that was something. Two hours later, he spotted the straggler through his binoculars, staggering along the wayside. "Ho, Shane! Got a walker on the road. Let's do a pick-up, eh?" "Uncanny, you are. Never a wrong hunch." "Don't trust it too much, Shane. Might lead us into trouble someday." "Whatever you say, boss. Hoy, Wheeler! We got a walker! Send out the word!" "This one's beat, Shane. Just collapsed right now. Lucky for him we came along, hm?" "Aye. Luck." "This is not a he." "Yeah. I can see that, Shane." "She looks beat up, boss." "Yeah. That she does." He bent down, and gathered her in his arms. It was a bit tougher than it might have otherwise been, as the girl had length to her, and the weight that came with muscle. No weakling, this. His eyes traveled along her body, lightning quick, and then came to rest on her face. "Take her to Doc, then?" He shook his head. "She won't need it. He can take a look, to be sure, but I bet all she'll need is rest, and some food when she wakes." "You sure?" "Pretty damn." "As Caesar says." |
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| Squall250 | Dec 30 2009, 01:35 AM Post #23 |
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She was vaguely aware of the rumble of movement beneath her, around her, the faint sound of roaring motors reaching her ears. She felt like she'd slept for a month without moving a single muscle, every one as sore as she could recall them ever being and about twice as stiff. It was a few minutes still before she found the will and the strength to open her eyes, and they fluttered slowly, deep green pools greeting the inside of a trailer. Whatever she was lying on, she could swear it wasn't meant for the human body. Oh, it felt enough like a mattress, but she couldn't remember ever feeling one so stiff. It certainly didn't help her muscles any. By contrast, though, the warm blankets which covered her—those and the t-shirt that was perhaps ten sizes too big—were more comfortable than anything she'd slept in for the past year. Perhaps even before then. She turned her head slowly, trying to get a feel for her surroundings through blurred vision. Then, when she realized it wasn't working, she blinked a few times, abused muscles laboring to move her hand up to her face to rub at her eyes. It was that movement that got the doc's attention. “Oh, you're awake.” It was a woman, at least ten years older than she, though Terra had never been a very good judge of age. Her vision was just starting to clear, and she looked up at the woman slowly. “Nn...” She groaned, trying to get her tongue to cooperate with her as she started sliding back, then again as that motion sent the sensation of pins and needles throughout her body, muscles not used in half a day suddenly worked against their will. With a grunt she managed to push herself up to a seat, leaning against the wall behind her as she looked at the doc. “You probably shouldn't be moving, but you're not going to listen to me, are you?” She asked with a friendly smile, “You're lucky to have made it. You'd just collapsed when we found you.” Terra blinked a few times, her stare almost blank for a moment before she lowered her gaze. “I...” She whispered, “How long... Have I been out?” “About half the day. Here,” she walked away for a moment, then returned with a tray of food. Mostly dried meats. “Eat something, you must be starving.” She bit her lower lip softly. While there was no denying her hunger, she couldn't work up an appetite. “You should have left me,” she muttered, and the doc perked a brow. “Oh? Why's that? Not worthy to live? Did something terrible, did you?” Her expression became a stern one quickly, “Stow it, girl. I've heard every excuse in the book, even before this whole mess started. There's never a good reason to leave someone to die.” Even when scolding the doc managed to be friendly, though there was no denying how serious she was. Terra looked away slowly, either hand clenching the top of the blanket tightly. “I shouldn't have survived.” “Right, well, death wishes aside, you're going to get some nutrition if I have to put you under and do an IV. Either take a bite or we can move straight to the hard way, hm?” She swallowed, one hand idly reaching for the tray and taking a piece of meet. Grudgingly, she brought it to her lips and took a bite. It wasn't long before she'd cleaned the tray. |
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| tormenteddragon | Dec 30 2009, 04:00 AM Post #24 |
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The hatch opened up, admitting another source of bright daylight. It was obscured, then, by a pair of heavy-duty combat boots coming down the ladder, soles ringing on the metal rungs. The man jumped the last few steps, popping off a salute to Doc as he approached. "How are your patients today, Doc?" "Well as can be, Marcus. Your girl here just woke up." "Oh? Good. Just needed the rest, then?" "Mm, and food. And a little lesson in the value of life." "Ah." He looked at her, their eyes meeting, each holding the others gaze for a while. The oversized shirt made her look smaller than she was, a bit more fragile now than when he'd carried her in. Still, it struck him that she was one of those. A strong woman, to live as long as she had on foot, so what would break her? "So I imagine Doc already gave you a small lecture, but I'm afflicted with the disease of curiosity," he said, still holding her gaze. "What brought you so low?" She considered for a moment, lips pursed, and finally broke the gaze and looked away. "Sometimes things just become too much to bear," she whispered, a quiet sigh passing her lips. "You fight for something for all you're worth, save as many as you can..." It was tears that blurred her vision, now, but she looked away still and refused to let so much as a crack into her voice. "Next thing you know, you're the sole survivor. Again." She shook her head slowly, "I tried to buy them some time to get away, but the next thing I knew... Alone again." She slid back under the blankets, biting the inside of her lip. "It was almost over..." He and Doc exchanged glances, and his face grew thoughtful. The road they were on, it was a direct route from Haven, which was just about the only place within walking distance. And that settlement was only recently destroyed. Sounded right. And if it was, there was that demon corpse they'd found, with the shot wounds. He tapped the holster of his revolver, shifting one shoulder to adjust the strap on the M16 he carried on his back. How to put this? Hell, he'd started direct, keep it that way. "You fought demons, or bandits?" She blinked a few times, quickly, and brought her hand up to rub her eyes, trying to hide her tears before she turned her head to look at him. "Demons." He nodded, still tapping his revolver. "Got hit by a big one in the end, right? Not much you can do about those. What's your name?" "Yeah... Real big one," she said with a nod, still failing to find the will to bring her eyes to his. "Terra." "Pleased to meet you, Terra. My name is Marcus, though the boys call me Caesar. You're traveling with the Legion, and we're about four hours out from Old Salty. Should be there by sunset." His words served to cover the tempo his mind was suddenly keeping. She could hurt them. Hell, kill them. And she'd actually fought one of the Kings, alone, by the sound of it, and lived to walk away. She could fight them. Like he could fight them. And if there were two... well. Keep the hopes realistic. "I suggest you follow Doc's orders, which, if I guess right from past experience, are going to be to keep resting. Right, Doc?" "Right, Marcus." "Though... think it might help if I sent one of the Haven kids in to visit?" She sat up quick at that, and immediately regretted it as worn muscles screamed at her, her arms wrapping around her belly as she grunted. Still, she brought her eyes up at that, locking them with Marcus'. "Haven kids?" she asked, and it seemed like new life had suddenly been breathed into the woman. "There were survivors?" Groaning, she laid herself back down; almost looked like she'd even smile. "I can't believe it..." He flat out grinned. "So it was Haven. Yeah, the kids survived. Found them in a safe room, somehow shielded from the collapse. Not sure how. Tell you what, you can look in on them when we get to Old Salty. For now, I'll let you rest up." The grin faded a bit as he turned to Doc, and he raised one eyebrow at her, a little message passed. Doc had seen Haven, too, seen the corpse. "I'm going back topside. Shift ain't over yet." She nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving his 'til he turned back to the Doc, and then she settled into the bed again, sighing quietly. Suddenly she felt as if there was some meaning to it all, again. She couldn't say if it was her work that had spared the children or not, but they'd survived and that was all that mattered. The last thing she saw as she drifted into a sleep far more peaceful than before was Marcus heading for the ladder and starting the climb back up. "So how's the girl, Caesar?" "She'll be fine, Shane. She'll be fine. Her name is Terra, too. Remember that." "Remember the name, hm? She that pretty, Caesar?" "Yeah, she cleans up nice, Shane. I picked her up to put her in a dress and have her cook my meals. I'm sure she'll be just fine with that, eager even." "Heh. There's a few as would." "The corpse we found at Haven." "Yeah?" "That was her work." Shane whistled. "Beauty." "I'm not the only one." "Maybe there's hope for us poor sods yet, hm?" "Maybe, Shane. Maybe." |
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| The Dragon Knight | Dec 31 2009, 05:24 PM Post #25 |
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The nurse stood off to the side, watching intently in acute fascination. She loved to watch whenever the Surgeon performed some kind of operation. It never failed to amaze her. It wasn't just his skill, which was considerable, or the way he hummed to himself as he performed the most delicate surgeries as he if had not a care in the world. It wasn't the fact that he was six foot eight and that his head brushed the ceiling when he stood up straight. It was how clean he was throughout it all. As a doctor he was expected to have certain levels of cleanliness so as to avoid infecting patients, but the Surgeon was on a whole other level; and not through any fault of his own. Being a half-Illarian, he had inherited one of the most unusual traits of his ancestral race. Illarians never got dirty. Oh, it wasn't like they avoided touching dirty things or shirked hard work. Far from it, in fact. It was simply this: dirt and particulates just.... avoided them altogether. It was something about the aura they gave off. It was like a reverse static charge that repelled small particles away from their bodies. Dust, dirt, blown leaves, blood droplets, even rain. The nurse had once watched the Surgeon walk through a torrential thunder storm and emerge from it bone dry, without the aid of an umbrella. This wasn't to say that they never got wet, or never got dirty at ALL, of course. If an Illarian were to jump into a lake or take a bath, or if they were to pick up a handful of mud, they would certainly be covered in the stuff. But all they had to do was brush their hands together, and the mud would simply fall away, leaving no trace it had been there. Or they could simply shake themselves vigorously, and all of the water droplets would be dislodged. The aura even penetrated their clothing, prevent dirt from accumulating on their garments. Most Illarians typically only ever own two or three sets of clothes and wash them about once a year, since even the bacteria that cause odor is repelled. It was such a remarkable ability, and yet it really had no practical uses. Right now Ivan Badowski, more commonly known as The Surgeon, was in the middle of an operation, repairing the damage to a man's thigh. He wore no apron, and he had removed his finely styled coat and set it on an old coat rack. His hands were covered in blood where he had touched and manipulated the tissues and blood vessels, but not a drop could be seen on the cream colored silk cravat he wore, nor on his fine black vest with the silver embroidery. “Nurse Dallet? Please bring me the 4-O silk.” The man's voice was smooth and gentle, and he was always polite. A gentleman in a time when people were more accustomed to gruff, paranoid scrutiny and every-man-for-himself behavior. The gentle tone did not seem like it should go with a man who was over six and a half feet tall, but it seemed to fit this man perfectly. His Illarian and human ancestry gave him the appearance of a very tall, surprisingly thin human. He reminded people of a sapling, tall and straight, bending in the breeze. The young nurse smiled warmly and quickly fetched the silk thread from the medical supply tray. She threaded the needle and placed it carefully in the Surgeon's hand. “Thank you.” was all he said. His hands moved with a steadiness and swift confidence that came from years of practice. He had once told her that his Illarian people lived for several hundred years, and that he, as a half-breed, would also likely outlive the average human, assuming he survived long enough to die of old age. He was already over fifty years old, but had the appearance of a man in his twenties. As he deftly knotted the final suture, he gave the thread a practiced flick that snapped it in just the right place. “Please finish up for me, my dear. I believe I shall go and wash up.” He stepped away from the operating table and headed for the sink as she began to clean the area around the wound with a damp sponge. He gave his hands a quick rinse, the blood needing no scrubbing to part from his fingers. Satisfied, he gave his hands a couple of shakes to dry them and then stepped out of the infirmary. The door opened onto the streets of Old Salty. The town was quiet, as usual, and the sun was spreading it's final rays of the evening over the horizon. He leaned back against the wall, taking in a deep breath of the dusty air, enjoying the warmth that the sun's rays gave him. It had been a long day. First there had been old lady Murphy who had broken a leg falling from one of the catwalks that circled the walls. He had set that to rights and given her explicit orders to not do any more climbing until he removed the cast. Next had been one of the Jefferson twins. They had been amusing themselves by seeing who could beat who with sticks, pretending that they were swords, and young Richard had come to him with a split scalp and a swollen eye. Even though they had told him that they wanted to play swordsman after seeing him in action, he had given them a stern lecture on the dangers of such play and warned them that next time they might not come off as lucky. Last had been Ferguson. His was the wound that he had just operated on. The man was one of the salvagers, constantly searching the old steel hulks rotting off the piers, taking what he could find in order to make their lives a little easier. It was an important job, but it was often prone to accidents. That morning the ship that Ferguson had been searching had shifted in her moorings, and a stack of old pipes had broken loose and fallen upon the poor man. One of them had pierced his leg, going right through it, and it had taken the better part of the day to repair the damage to the nerves and blood vessels. Now Ivan was content to relax for a few minutes, enjoying the sunset. He rested his left hand upon the hilt at his hip, idly tapping the beautiful cage that would protect the hand. He hummed a nameless tune to himself, quite content and at peace. It did not last long, unfortunately. A few minutes had passed when he became aware of a commotion. A couple of younger people were running down the street, whooping and laughing, and shouting out something. As they got closer he made out the words: The Legion is coming! We can see the column from the walls! So, he thought to himself. The famous Caesar's Legion was coming here. He had not been in Old Salty all that long and had never seen them before. He had, however, heard all sorts of tales about the Caesar and his band of warriors. They made the rounds in these wastes, transporting goods and supplies to where they were desperately needed, braving the desolate roads that the weaker survivors simply could not tread. Having the Legion in town should help to buoy some of the spirits. Many people had been getting more and more worried about the lack of demon sightings, and having the Caesar to help guard the town for a while would help to put the worriers at ease. Curious to see this near legendary troupe, Ivan pushed himself off the wall, retrieved his coat from inside and, slinging the coat over a shoulder, headed for the main gate. Who knows, he thought, maybe they'll have some medical supplies that I can use to re-stock the infirmary. Ivan had arrived at a fortuitous time for the settlement. Their previous physician had died of a terrible infection he had gotten while treating a contagious patient. Doc Hoffe had been a kindly old soul, but his knowledge of more recent medical techniques was minimal, as he had been retired for years before the apocalypse forced him back into service. Finding the town without any medical expertise, Ivan had approached the good Colonel Drake to offer his services. The Colonel was skeptical of letting a total stranger care for his people, but had been forced to take the chance. Drake had not regretted it a single moment since then. Ivan's skill was first rate, having studied medical procedures under his Illarian mother, who had been a world class physician herself, for the past thirty or so years. Now, with the world torn asunder and death seemingly on everyone's doorstep, Ivan had found his services made him popular anywhere he went. It also didn't hurt that he was an incredibly skilled fighter, and had helped to fend off bandits and slavers with his blades. As the sun filtered down upon the shattered city in hues of pink and orange, Ivan's long gait brought him up to the town entrance where he idly hung at the back of the crowd that had gathered to witness the arrival of the Legion. His height allowed him to see over even the tallest resident, and he watched the dusty column approach with interest. |
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| Mittoo | Dec 31 2009, 09:40 PM Post #26 |
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Some reasonable length of time ago. Not too long, mind you. "They're coming! Get down! GET DOWN!" 'They' turned out to be little more than a sprite, but the initial laughter of the men in the watchtower quickly turned to pained screams as it calmly wandered through the scattered AK-47 gunfire and tore them to bloody shreds. A few explosions from abandoned grenades became something of an orchestral background as the demon made its slow way through the defenders. The women and children ran to the underground bunkers, made for a war that had never come to pass, and would probably be safe unless larger demons came along. One defender remained in the city blocks, though. He had a plan. He called out, the sound resonating around a settlement that had very, very quickly become utterly silent bar the child-like steps of the demon. They grew louder now. Louder still...and there it was, peeking at the determined face at the other end of the rocket launcher with something approaching curiosity. It didn't react at the projectile screaming towards it, but that was to be expected. It was, quite clearly, almost entirely unfazed once the smoke cloud had cleared, but that, too, was to be expected. What it had done, though, was dirty its armour, and that didn't rank the man too highly on the demon's list. It gave chase, and the human ran, dodging through abandoned tower blocks with practise and training guiding his steps. The demon was showing surprising speed for such a small frame, but the man was gifted with the same ability, thankfully. The man, too, had the advantage of knowing where he was going, and this brought him to a particular tower building in good time. As the imp waddled slowly toward him, the man gave a convincing enough illusion of being trapped. The demon waddled closer, and closer, drawing its satisfied grin ever further... It certainly looked surprised when the man seemed to vanish into a hidden escape passageway, and especially so when the sapper charges detonated at the building's foundations, bringing several hundred tonnes of concrete crashing down onto the demon. The man, now heading through a painstakingly crafted tunnel, let out a grin as the dust settled behind him. Now. Ish. The man was Thaddeus - or, at least, it was what he called himself. He was a bit of an enigma to Old Salty, really - he spoke little, preferred the watch tower over the mess hall and never revealed his story, as most have. All that people really knew about him was his name, his ability with explosives and his accent - most swore that it was Molaizian, and others claimed it was of the Black Lands. There was a pool going around as to where exactly Thaddeus originally lived, and the price was growing steadily higher - it featured a car engine, a box of 5.56mm rounds and two weeks off guard duty as its highest bidders. Thaddeus enjoyed this interest, though. Luckily, it wasn't compounded with people harrassing him; he was largely left to his own devices, to let people speculate and gossip about him. It gave him more time to set up his explosive perimeter tripmines, or glance casually down the main road with his trusted RPG-7 in hand. It was during one such volunteered guard duty that shadows appeared on the horizon. His finger twitched on the trigger, readying the detonators for the satchel charges he had spent the past week installing. They would not kill the demons, and he had no tower blocks to drop on them this time. Even still, the explosions would slow their advance, and warn the others more quickly than any alarm could. Come, demon. Closer...Wait. A window? Thaddeus relaxed his body, letting a smile creak its way upward as he ran a hand over hair constantly kept to stubble. The convoy often served as a welcome distraction from the rumourmongering, and allowed Thaddeus his quota of conversation. He lay down his rocket launcher, and collected his rifle from a holster on his back, peering down the scope to see anything of interest. Of particular interest were the two shapes Thaddeus identified as Caesar and his friend. The smile widened; Caesar was one of the few men who Thaddeus knew well, and the pair had grown as close as two military men who had only met four months ago could be. As his vehicle drew closer, he gave a simple, short and crisp wave. "You should be careful to be giving more warning when you come, Caesar," he called down, his accent thick, "I was almost blowing you to pieces, and that would not do. It is good to see you, my friend." |
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| Squall250 | Jan 1 2010, 03:05 PM Post #27 |
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It was all over the news. Anyone watching TV that day really had no choice but to watch it. Someone had found it. One of those crazy treasure hunters had actually come across the fabled Box. Terra lounged back on the couch at her home, half a bottle of scotch on the coffee table in front of her. She wore just a t-shirt, now, and was in quite a mood as she stared at the screen. “Stupid bastards...” She muttered under her breath, taking another swig from the bottle before her. She also seemed to be a tad drunk. A month before, he'd come to her and told her he knew where to find it. She wanted no part of it, and he left to go and search for it with just his team. She'd been a bit of a hunter, herself, but unlike most, she was quite thorough in reading the legends about each artifact she sought. Most were based in truth, in some way or another, she figured. So far, her wisdom had kept her from getting killed. Ryst, however, didn't share her caution. He would chase after anything and everything, regardless of what warnings came attached. And now... “...And today, we have a special guest! Ryst Lunars, Ceraisle's top-ranked artifact hunter, will be joining us in just a few moments. As our viewers know, he has apparently managed to find the fabled Pandora's Box! We at CXBTV News are absolutely thrilled to have him with us today, and there's even rumors floating around that he might OPEN the Box for the first time, live in this studio!” “You have got to be kidding me...” She mumbled, taking another swig as she leaned forward. “Ryst, you stupid bastard... if you open that box I swear...” Ryst came on the screen, carrying a small, lovely ornate box. Golden lines circled it, and even through the cameras Terra could make out the runes on it. “No.” She whispered, as he set the box down. Whatever they were saying on the news, it was a blur now, as she watched his hands going for that box. “No!” His hand flipped the latch, and the box burst open, pouring forth a foul darkness which seemed to engulf all of the light in the studio. Everything else on the TV blurred as Terra fell forward onto her knees, screaming... And it was with a scream she awoke, sitting up fast. Sweat poured from her body and tears stung her eyes as she hunched forward, wrapping her arms around herself. “Brother...” She whispered, staring down at the blankets which had pooled in her lap. That day had indeed been a nightmare... and this was not the first time she had been forced to relive it. She knew that Ryst had become... Something. Not human. But she couldn't remember what it looked like... if she'd even seen it. All she knew was that she saw him change... Doc heard her scream, and walked over to check on her, “You alright?” She reached up to rub her eyes, then looked up, into Doc's, nodding slowly. “Y... yeah,” she said shakily, “Just a bad dream.” Taking a moment to compose herself and catch her breath, she looked around slowly, “How far out are we?” “Shouldn't be long now, just...” She stopped as she felt the truck slowing, grinning to herself, “There we are, looks like we're pulling into Old Salty now. Let me have a look at you.” Doc pulled the covers down and checked the woman out, specifically the areas where the clothing had been damaged most. As she finished, she whistled, “I'll be damned. Not so much as a tender spot left on you, girl, and it's not even been a day.” She stepped back, shaking her head, “If everyone healed like you do, I'd be out of work. You're clear to head out whenever you want. Ever been to Old Salty?” She shook her head. “Nice place. Calm, peaceful. They take care of people, here.” “How long have they been standing?” “Since shortly after the demons started showing. Apparently, it suffered a major attack before; wiped out everyone inside and tore the place up pretty good. Colonel Drake set up shop soon after, place has been more or less safe ever since. One of precious few.” “Where are my clothes? My guns?” “Set the clothes aside. Til we can get 'em cleaned or fixed, I'll be damned if I'll let you put those things back on. Got a fresh set for you at the foot of the bed, your guns are on the rack in the corner, along with the belts. I'll set up a screen so you can get changed once we stop.” And so she did. Terra slipped out from under the covers, grabbing the pile of clothes without so much as glancing at it and stepping behind the screen. It wasn't near as much coverage as she liked, being a wanderer, but it would do for now. She slipped out of the giant t-shirt, and into a fitting white tank and a pair of blue jeans. Her boots had been pretty well worn out, too, so she was given a pair of brown hiking boots. She wasn't nearly as comfortable in them, but they would do until she could get something better. Her tone showed quite nicely, now that she was wearing fitting clothing and her arms were bared. She still felt filthy. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd bathed. Not that it wasn't a particularly unfamiliar feeling, but if she was going to be spending any amount of time relaxing, she'd much rather be clean. She stepped away from the screen and walked to the rack, grabbing her belts and strapping them around her waist, crossed in the front with a gun resting low on either hip. She didn't think to check her guns before climbing the ladder and opening the hatch. Once she was standing atop the rig, she took a look around, whistling at the sight. The city was a wreck... But it had life. Half the buildings didn't look like they'd stand for another day, but... There was life! Children running and playing in the streets, parents going about their business... It was... Amazing. Her eyes caught sight of Marcus talking to a man dressed in military garb. He wore medals from his army days, so Terra could guess that if he wasn't in charge, he was probably up there. She hopped down from the rig, not even thinking to use a ladder and landed hard on her feet with a grunt and audible thud, her knees bending to absorb the impact. Then she just stood up straight and walked towards the pair, unfazed. If nothing else, she could thank Marcus for saving her, now that she actually felt grateful. |
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| tormenteddragon | Jan 2 2010, 04:05 AM Post #28 |
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Advanced Member
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Marcus grinned up at the Molaivian, waving at him in return. "Mighty glad you decided we weren't demons, then! Our radio's gone out, see," he called back up. "I'll meet you inside, bud, once we're parked and all the greets are through, aye?" Thus the Legion came to town, passing the makeshift wall that marked the border of Old Salty. And there were people there to meet them a few cheering, many smiling, hardly an unhappy face in the crowd. But that just made sense. The Legion brought necessary supplies, something everyone had come to appreciate far more than usual, and indicated a chance at getting some of the simple luxuries back. They also brought their guns and their travel-hardened skills, and so in this time of nervousness, they meant just that much added security. For a few, they meant a chance to travel. To get away from Old Salty, to satisfy a wanderlust, to keep moving in their effort to find people, or a place to really call home. This was a bright spot in an otherwise dark world. The convoy stopped in one of the few truly open spaces in Old Salty, and the Legionairres quickly set about the process of setting up shop. The rigs were opened, the shelters brought out, and business began almost as soon as it possibly could. In the orange glow of twilight, the settlement had come to life. Marcus was on the ground from the first, eyes scanning for the face he'd learned on their first visit here. Drake would be somewhere, here. The Colonel would be wanting news, no doubt, in addition to a report on what they were bringing in. And there was a question he needed to answer before talking to the man, if possible. The knowledge that Marcus could actually kill the demons was something kept within the Legion. Book had explained it, see, in light of human nature, and how that nature was naturally selfish. With the word out, every settlement would be trying to get him to take up permanent residence, at best... at worst, people would be trying to put him through tests to figure out why he could kill the beasts. Neither scenario appealed. But now? Now there was another one. That changed things. With it just him, it was a fluke, an oddity, and one man can do only so much. With her, though... he was not unique. There was at least one other person who shared this power to penetrate the demon armor, and that could mean there were others with the same power. Drake, too, seemed like a trustworthy man, with the discipline to keep it hush, and the ability to see that Marcus was doing the most good right where he was. If he was gonna share it... he could share it to Drake, right, so he could know it was possible, and to keep an eye out for others. Or was it too soon to make that call? And there he was, recognizable by the military uniform and the build. Marcus waved him down, walked over, and gave a salute... one officer to another. That, he had found out last time. Marcus had a command. And that, in Drake's eyes, gave him an equal rank, and he was to remember that. "Hello, Colonel! Glad to see you're all still here." With news that the Legion was arriving, Drake was quick to find his way to the convoy and as he neared, he caught sight of Marcus, who waved him down. He nodded, and as the Legion's leader approached and gave salute, Drake responded in kind. "I could say the same to you, Caesar! Good to see you're still making your path through the wastes. Your timing couldn't be better. We've been calm for some time now, people are getting nervous. You'll be sure to set their minds at ease, for a while." "Anything to help, of course. Hopefully if you're in the calm before the storm it'll hit while we're here, then. Oh, best tell you the bad news first off. Haven's gone." "Haven is? Damn... Poor bastards have been there half this nightmare, too. How bad was it?" "Whole place was torn apart, parts of the floor caved in on the underground sections. Damage looked like it mostly came from the inside. I'd say it was a digger. A big one." He shook his head, "Damn. Well, any luck, we won't find out what did it. I'll have Preach hold a service in memory. Meantime, how's your rounds been?" "Going well, going well. We've been lucky, haven't lost many people to the small ones, haven't run into the really big fuckers. Southport's still standing, so are the other places we set up shop in. But we've run across brand new settlements and found half the ones that were there on the last trip are gone now, like Haven. Those ones are hard." The smiles are gone now, as flashes of the dead settlements run through his mind. "Haven wasn't quite so hard as some, though. We found the children in a sealed room, still living. Scared out of their minds, but alive." "Did you? At least there's some good news in all of this,then. You can drop them off here, if you want. Always a few willing to take in a child or two, give them a good home. As good as any can get these days, any rate. Good to hear there were survivors, at least." "Yeah, I was hoping we could do that. The Legion's better than some places for kids, but I don't know as any of my people are looking to adopt." Movement caught his eye, and he looked over, seeing a woman approaching. She seemed fam.. oh. Terra. Up already, hm? He nodded by way of indication. "And there's another survivor, damn lucky girl. Picked her up on the side of the road, walking from Haven. I see you're up and about, Terra." Drake nodded, looking the girl over with a quick and practiced eye. "A tough young lady, I see. Welcome to Old Salty, seems Caesar here's had quite the run this time around." Terra stepped up near Marcus and nodded, "Have to be to survive this nightmare. If it weren't for Marcus, though, I'd be done by now." She looked at him with a faint smile, "And I didn't thank you earlier. Thanks." "It's just part of what we do." His mind was racing, asking the question over and over. Do I tell him? Do I keep it secret? How do I handle this, dammit? "Terra, this is Colonel Drake, the man responsible for Old Salty's survival and safety." And then it suddenly hit him that he had yet to tell her about his own ability. She probably thought she was the only one who could kill the creatures, and no wonder she was in such a state over Haven, not to mention so beat up. If she was going around trying to be that hero... oh hell. That revelation would be all kinds of awkward. No. No, best to leave the question of whether to tell Drake unanswered for now. "I'd salute but I never even had family in the military," she said as she reached out to take his hand. He took her hand and gave it a firm shake, a bit surprised by the strength of her own grip. "Perfectly fine, only people I ask for that kind of formality from are my men. Visitors and citizens are exempt." She smiled, nodding as she stepped back. "It's nice to meet you, Colonel. This city is a gem in the wasteland. Looks like you're doing a hell of a job." "I appreciate that," he said, nodding, and looked at Marcus, "Was there anything you needed to discuss immediately? I should probably let you get to your convoy, and I have an inspection to get out of the way myself. Perhaps we should meet up for dinner?" "Yeah, sounds good, Colonel. Better place to give a full report than here in the fairgrounds." Marcus took the man's hand and gave it a firm shake. "I'll see you then." "I think I could deal with that, this time. I'll see you in an hour or two, then, whenever you're all set up and settled in. In the meantime," he gave a salute, then turned and headed off towards the gate, "A leader's work is never done." "I hear that," he said, and returned the salute, before turning to Terra. "I see Doc outfitted you with some new threads. Good woman, that." "Yeah, she is. Kind of feel bad, being uncooperative like I was..." She glanced away, absently rubbing her shoulder. "Not as much coverage as I like, but I'm used to crossing the wastes on a bike. Don't want to get caught in a sandstorm dressed like this. It's clean, though, and it fits. Can't complain, though I could use a bath." "I can imagine. You'll have to wait a bit for one, though, 'til the fairgrounds are set and everything is settled. In the meantime, anything else you feel like doing? Setup is one of those times where I'm no more help than any other guy, and we've got plenty of hands this time around, so..." Had Doc put her in a tanktop on purpose? If so, he'd have to either thank her, or chew her out for it. Maybe both. Because this woman looked good in it, and he wasn't sure if that thought was going to turn out well, or end up very, very poorly. Biting the inside of her lip lightly in consideration, she looked up at Marcus. "Mm... Hard to think about relaxation when you feel like you've just bathed in grime," she said with a forced grin, "but I wouldn't mind getting a feel for the place." "Right, then I'll play tour guide. And don't worry, you don't look like you feel." |
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| The Dragon Knight | Jan 3 2010, 10:03 PM Post #29 |
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Advanced Member
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Impressive. That was the word that kept funneling through Ivan's mind as he wandered through the newly opened market. The type and number of goods that were available from the Legion was incredible. They certainly made good use of their time scouring the wastes. Everything from foodstuffs to explosives and weapons to everyday sundries like fabric, pots and pans and various household implements. Even raw materials such as scrap metal and bags of cement mix were to be found in the Legion's convoy. If there was anything a person needed, there was a decent chance that you could either find it with the Legion, or at least find the base materials with them with which to build it yourself. The dusty air was filled with the hum of activity as citizens and Legionnaires alike hustled from one stall to another, catching up on the latest gossip and soliciting work and trade. Ivan glided effortlessly through the thin crowds, his tall, thin form weaving around the knots of people as he looked from above them at the various items on display. He paused at one stall that held various articles of clothing and numerous fabrics, undoubtedly salvaged from a tailor's shop in one of the old ruins. Many of the clothes were worn and patched, but in good repair. Very few of them were brand new. The man who tended the kiosk stared in awe at the spotless and patchless clothing that Ivan wore. “I'd be willing to offer you a fair piece for those threads, mate.” the man remarked, eying the silver embroidered vest and silk cravat with an appraising eye. Ivan merely smiled and shook his head, giving the man a courteous bow and wishing him a profitable stay before moving on to the next stall. It wasn't long before the tall Illarian surgeon reached the convoy's infirmary. Ducking down a considerable distance to make his way into the canvas tent, he was greeted by the Legion's doctor. She was cheerful enough, but she had the look of one who had dealt with too much death in too short a time. Ivan knew exactly how she felt. “Hello there. I'm Doctor Cerise, or just Doc as everyone calls me. Can I help you with anything? Do you require medical attention?” Ivan smiled warmly. The woman's concern was commendable. It wasn't enough for her to care about her own people, she was dedicated enough to her trade to want to treat anyone who needed it. He shook his head in answer to her question and introduced himself. “No, no. I'm not injured. Quite the opposite, actually. I thought I aught come by and introduce myself. I'm the new chief of medicine here in Old Salty, Ivan Badowsky. It is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Cerise.” He offered his hand to hers and she shook it gladly, her eyes lighting up. “Another practitioner, are you? Yes, that's right, we had heard from some travelers we'd run into about a month back that Doctor Hoffe had died of infection. They'd mentioned that somebody had drifted in and replaced him, but I had no idea it might be you. You're an Illarian, aren't you?” She cocked her head upwards, taking in his crouched stature with a keen interest. “Yes, in part. My mother was an Illarian, and a brilliant physician, while my father was human. He was actually a mercenary and taught me how to fight, while my mother taught me the skills I use now. I've been in practice now for quite a few years, but this past year has sharpened my skills far more than the other thirty combined. I'm sure you understand.” The two chatted on for a while in a comfortable fashion, exchanging news, discussing various diseases that seemed to be proliferating since the apocalypse and comparing medical techniques. She was more than a little impressed with his knowledge, and with his gentle bedside manner. He went with her on her rounds that evening, visiting the ward and helping with the examination of a few recuperating patients. She admitted to being surprised that there had been no new business for her upon arrival. The last few settlements had all had people who were in need of her more advanced care than the local doctors could provide. Ivan thanked her for the oblique compliment to his skill and admitted that there had, so far, not been any real test of his abilities in Old Salty. However he continued to add that he would be quite happy if it remained that way. “As unlikely as that is, I'm afraid.” She nodded her understanding. With food and water becoming more scarce, and with the dwindling population, the likelihood of a major epidemic or accident increased daily. Finally, Ivan informed the good doctor that he had to return to his own ward. She thanked him kindly for taking the time to visit and suggested that he introduce himself to the Caesar. He advised her that he just might do that, and then asked her if the Legion was trading medical supplies. “Just give me a list of what you need and I'll see that it's brought to the clinic.” She smiled, shaking his hand in farewell. “I shall have one for you in the morning. Colonel Drake has made arrangements with me, as chief of medicine for the city, so that I only have to let him know what items the clinic requires and he'll have the funds taken out of the city's coffers. I'll come see you again once I've spoken to the Colonel. Until then, Doctor.” With a bow, the tall Illarian made his way from the tent and walked casually back to the clinic. By now it was late in the evening and many people were turning in for the night. He sniffed the air, catching an unidentifiable scent on the breeze, and puzzled over it for a moment. Then he shrugged and headed indoors. It was probably nothing. He settled down on his cot for the night. He'd need a good night's rest if he was to be ready for the next day. |
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| Squall250 | Jan 5 2010, 05:08 AM Post #30 |
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Her face warmed at that, though the dirt made that likely hard to notice. It was hard to imagine that she looked good at all, but it wasn't as if he had reason to lie to her. “I'll take your word for it,” she said, “I haven't seen a proper mirror in months.” He chuckled, and grinned back at her. "That's one commodity's in short supply, being as it's not a necessity. I've got a nice shiny piece of metal lets me shave, though, you should probably be able to find something similar. What you interested first, food or the town's layout?" She considered for a moment, then shrugged, "I ate enough before that I'm not too hungry. And I think the Colonel wanted to meet you for dinner, anyways, so the layout sounds good to me." With that he led her through Old Salty, and she took in the area quite eagerly. Everywhere she went things had been so helpless, ever since the Box had been opened. Here, though... Here it was different. It was like a shining ray of hope in the dying wastes, one glinting ray of sunlight piercing through the blackest clouds. For the first time in a year, she actually felt peaceful. She never thought she'd feel peace again, and this brought a smile to her face as she walked alongside the Legion's leader. She was protected by makeshift walls—wooden constructs, sandbags, barricades, the like. There wasn't really a set residential district or market. People set up homes, set up shop, where they could. Every now and then, a building would come down and people would relocate, but normally there was enough warning before it happened that they could get out before the place would fall. Then, the building would be salvaged, pieces used to reinforce the walls and anything else they could use them for. Debris didn't last long, as there was always something to use it for, and this made sure the streets were relatively clean. The only spot that wasn't occupied on a daily basis was the square. This was a gathering place, used for meetings, markets and fairs, such as the Legion. The docks were perhaps the most interesting part of the settlement. Old, rotting hulls floated on the water, but even these found use as homes, shops and storage. Everything that could be used, was. Anything that couldn't was either recycled or disposed of in some way or another. Drake kept his settlement clean and efficient as possible, even in these tough times. There was a lot to respect about the man. Marcus, too... As they walked, she found herself growing curious about him. They were alone at the moment, leaving the docks, and Terra couldn't stave off her curiosity any longer. “How long has the Legion been around?” She asked finally, perhaps a bit nervously. It wasn't the best way to start, she felt, but it worked. "Hmmmm, well, it had its roots in the old trucking business, but the Legion as it is now really started with my uncle, Bill Hodge. Old military guy, retired, but the Box unretired a lot of people, you know? Well, he started it. Got us going. That was, oh, nine months ago, now? Bill could read where things were going, had a feeling something like the Legion would be needed." She nodded, “So you followed with him, then. How did you end up leading the outfit?” She got the feeling the answer would be depressing, as were a lot of stories these days. As soon as she'd asked the question, though, she regretted it. The man was family, and she'd basically just asked him to go into what she imagined would be a painful story for him. “Um... If it's not too painful...” She added nervously, rubbing her shoulder. He shook his head, smiling, though it was a bit of a sad smile. "No, it's alright. Bill, he was old, and he'd been a smoker all his life, right? Actually, before the Box, he'd been scheduled to start treatment for the cancer. That's what killed him, about a month into it. By then, though, he'd laid the groundwork for me. I just picked up where he left off." His fingers touched the dogtags around his neck, rubbing them as he fell silent, then brought them to his lips for a quick kiss. "Rest in Peace, Bill." She bit the inside of her lip as she listened to him. “He meant a lot to you, huh?” She asked quietly, he gaze dropping as she walked beside him. She could sympathize—she'd lost everything, mostly due to the damned Box. A melancholy sigh passed her lips, before she looked back up, “But he left you with something special; left the world with something special, and it looks to me like you've taken real good care of it. I admit, I'm not sure how. A convoy like that is sure to attract attention. You must be real lucky.” "Yeah. Lucky." He coughed, scratching his head. "It's a bit more than luck, really. If you know where to shoot and you've got the aim for it, you can hit them in the weak spots. It freaks the hell out of them, makes them split just that much faster." "But it helps that when I'm the one shooting the gun, the demons get more than annoyed." He turned his head, looking her straight in the eye. "When I shoot the gun, they get hurt. And they die." She began to slow as he spoke, wondering what he was getting at. The weak spots? Sure, they had to have them... But they must have been a bitch to be able to find. Then he turned to look her in the eye and she froze in her spot, a knot forming in her chest as she processed this information. “Die...” She whispered, blinking back unbidden tears. Why would she be crying right now? She certainly wasn't sad! “You can... You can kill them...?” She whispered in disbelief, just staring at him. "Hard to believe, I know. I mean, I could hardly believe that you could do it, but that corpse you left all full of holes at Haven... well, that speaks." He paused, looking at her, then asked another question. "You heal fast, don't you? That's why there was hardly a mark on you when I found you." She nodded, slowly. There was no doubt he was being honest... Hell, that was the only sane explanation for why the Legion had lasted so long. “Yeah... Impossibly fast. That one I blew holes in busted a few ribs and gave me a concussion, I think... And I was up in a couple hours. As for when you found me... I... Don't remember what happened to me when Haven was destroyed. I just remember giving up afterward...” "You see enough death, try too hard too many times and keep having it taken away, and anyone will break. The heart don't heal like the body do." He shook his head. "Do you believe what I've just told you? I can't exactly kill a demon for you, but I could prove it for you, just the same." “Exactly,” she answered in a whisper. Even as her body pressed on, her heart had given up. Now, though, there was new hope—both thanks to Old Salty, and the revelation that she wasn't necessarily alone. “I do,” she said quietly, “it's the only answer that makes sense. The Legion... Would not have lasted as long as it has on luck alone. You're doing something good, Marcus,” she said with a shaky smile. It was still so hard to believe... But she knew it was the truth. "Yeah. I think so. Bill thought so." He gave another sigh. "While we're here, Terra, I'd suggest keeping our abilities secret. The Legion, they know about me, and they'll know about you soon enough. But the people here, those outside the Legion, they don't know. Not even Drake, though I'm thinking of telling him tonight." “I'll gladly keep it that way,” she said quickly and with a surprising conviction, as if she'd thought on it before. “I had to show them at Haven... But, well...” She didn't finish the thought. “Anyways... Shortly after the Box...” She shuddered, “People get curious about what they don't know. It's not something I want to relive. Drake seems trustworthy, but in general...” She shuddered again at the thought. "Yeah." He was watching her, his face mostly passive, but there was sorrow in his eyes. "Yeah. I'm lucky, I guess. I had Bill, and I've still got Book. I'll need to introduce you to Book." He looked up, eyes on the orange-lit sky, as the last bits of sunlight started to fade. "You want that bath, right? We should head back to the fair." “I could really use it, yeah,” she answered, “The sooner the better. Chance to relax, get cleaned up... Clear my head, too, I guess. Been an interesting day.” A liberating one, too. Uplifting, comforting... at the moment, peaceful. Perhaps the best day since the Box had been opened, for her. “Thank you.” "You're welcome." And they went on, heading back towards the fair. As they rounded a corner though, Terra froze. “Would you look at that...” Damn, but she was a beauty. Terra darted ahead, fingers running along the chassis of the old, worn-out bike. “She's in rough shape,” she said, “But there's a lot of potential here.” “You want?” A middle-aged woman stepped out of the doorway of a small home, and Terra looked at her slowly. “Was my husband's, he always meant to get it fixed up. Then all this... He died a couple months ago.” Terra bit her lower lip softly, “I'm sorry to hear that.” She shook her head, “Nothing you could have done, dear. But he'd want to see this girl fixed up. I can't do it, don't know anyone who can. If you can get her running and maybe prettied up a bit, though... It'd be doing his memory a lot of service.” Swallowing, the girl glanced from the woman to the bike. “Are you sure--” “I insist. If you have the ability to fix her up, that is.” “I do.” “Then all I ask is that you let me see her when you're finished.” “I will,” said Terra with a smile, looking to the woman, “And I'll put my best effort into it.” The woman smiled in return, “I look forward to seeing it.” The sound of children yelling came from inside, and she sighed, “Excuse me, but I think I am needed.” She nodded to the pair, looking between them with an eye that seemed to say 'cute couple' then smiled and returned to her home. "Now that," he said, bending down to look at the rusty thing, "is quite the find, and a generous offer. There's tools back with the trucks, and I'm sure the gearheads would be happy to get in your way with all sorts of unwanted advice and much needed parts. What think?" She giggled, suddenly feeling almost giddy to have an opportunity like this fall right into her lap. "I think it sounds great," she said, nodding as she took hold of the bars and flipped up the stand, "I lost my bike at Haven. This couldn't have worked out better. I get a chance to work on one again, too. It's been..." She laughed, "Way too long." He grinned, and chuckled at her enthusiasm."Well, then, we should be getting back soon as we can, eh? Get that bath, eat that dinner, and the sooner you can get started." She nodded at that, and started back with him towards the fair, rolling the bike the whole way. So much all in one day... She'd given up on life entirely just that morning, and now found herself with renewed hope. After Haven's fall... She had no doubt that Marcus finding her was the best thing that could have happened. Most importantly... She wasn't alone. There was somebody else like her. And if there was one... Well, maybe, just maybe... She shook her head, looking at him with a genuine smile. Perhaps there was hope for the world after all. |
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9:12 AM Jul 11