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June 21st, 3:24 P.M. Arriving at the front of Bridget's Books, Mike and John find the door altogether missing from the entrance, and the near dozen or so corpses strewn about the street not far from it. Most of them are fairly decayed by now, however. The stench is absolutely terrible without the ventilation of gas masks, coaxing retching sensations. No radio this time--just the first voice you had heard over the radio. "Easy with that shotgun, Tex." Towards the back of the store, inside, the man from the roof is poised behind a counter with his rifle ready--albeit not pointed directly at either of you. He is garbed in full riot gear, though he isn't wearing a helmet. Curiously, you notice a machete sheathed at his hip, and a radio strapped to his shoulder. "You're Markson?" he nods towards John, though apparently rhetorical, as he immediately follows up with "Militia? Army?" though with the latter mention he quirks an eyebrow, eying John's 'staff'. His own armament appears to be a high-powered rifle with a visible clip and a scope. "What are you doing here?"
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Jul 10, 2007 06:06
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Markson "We're just surviving survivors, and we like staying that way. We've been wandering for awhile now, and we've gotten pretty tightknit. We came here in search of supplies and information, and we're willing to talk about things we can do to trade for them. If it's all the same to you, sitting out in the streets makes me kind of nervous. Especially with those... things wandering about." John hopes that sounded good. He's not used to this kind of stuff. ST 9 DX 11 IQ 14 HT 9 HP 8 Will 11 Per 14 FP 8
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Jul 10, 2007 06:14
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"What 'things' wandering around?" he scowls visibly and glares. "You've got some nerve. It isn't all the same to me, because there's two of you, and I can hear you just fine from back here." The inside of the book store has been roughed up considerably, but hardly ransacked like most of the other vendors down the street. It would seem that demand for books was not so high in the end. There is a large metal case on the counter, by the register, which is a dark matte green. "You want supplies, go scavenging."
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Jul 10, 2007 06:23
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Mike O'Neill Puts one hand up, placatingly, the other still holding the shotgun. "Just want to know who you guys are. You look pretty loving organized. What are you doing here?" He remembers some of the radio conversation, something about trouble coming in from the north. "Sounds like you've got some trouble coming, too." He stops and looks at the man, sharply. "Wait, what do you mean "what things"? You know what we're talking about." code:Captain Rehab fucked around with this message at 06:29 on Jul 10, 2007 |
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Jul 10, 2007 06:25
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Markson Markson sits back quietly, hoping that his partner in survival can do a better job then he was able to. However, if the man looks, Markson is going to do a better job of looking better, and taking advantage of the fact he's fairly pitiable looking. R. Stuff: Attractive, Pitiable ST 9 DX 11 IQ 14 HT 9 HP 8 Will 11 Per 14 FP 8
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Jul 10, 2007 06:30
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"If by the 'things' you're referring you mean plague victims, they've already been dealt with." he spits to the side, rolling his shoulder to tighten his rifle's strap a tad in his grip. "You're not gonna want to be here when poo poo does go down. If you're -not- military, then shove off and move on, the town's long dead and we won't be here long." ~~~~~ Those remaining uphill feel a sudden tremendous rumble underfoot, accompanied by a loud crack muffled underground. In the meantime, north of Brady Heights, the sky has begun to darken drastically, clouds rolling in from the northwest with alarming speed. Back in the vicinity of the pillar of smoke, gunfire erupts in a chorus of chaos, and three separate new voices all vie for radio time, shouting and screaming nigh incomprehensibly. The man in Bridget's Books, moves a hand to the radio on his shoulder. "gently caress!" He grabs the metal case on the counter, then bolts through a door behind the counter, the sound of a door being kicked open following not long after. The blackbird atop the building begins to caw wildly. John and Mike feel the ground rumbling faintly underfoot.
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Jul 10, 2007 06:44
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Markson Worry blanketing his entire face, Markson turns to Mike and asks "What do we do? Follow him? Run for everyone else? Run for shelter? It sounds like serious poo poo is going down."
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Jul 10, 2007 06:47
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Mike O'Neill Mike tries to make the quickest, best decision. This might be our only chance to find out what's going on. "gently caress it, he said he's military, right? We see what's happening, and if its out of our league, we hightail it out of here." He goes to follow the man, thinking all the time: gently caress, I hope I'm not getting us killed...
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Jul 10, 2007 06:57
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Markson Markson runs after Mike, at the same time turning on his walkie talkie and telling the group uphill. "Um... we're running into a situation that one might refer to as... interesting. The guys havn't attacked us, but I don't think that's going to be our main problem." Taking his hand off the call button, he says to Mike, "I hope we're not doing something really stupid. What in the flying gently caress is going on?"
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Jul 10, 2007 08:52
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Mike O'Neill Mike comes to a sudden stop after Markson asks him what is going on, and realizes that he doesn't have even the tiniest inkling. "gently caress!", he hisses, "gently caress, I don't know. You're right, maybe we should stay back. I get a little carried away sometimes. Maybe we should drop back and see if the other guys can see anything from up there." Christ, Mike thinks, I probably nearly got us both killed. Sooner I get it into my head I'm not Superman the better. Last time I did something like this a crazy guy nearly clawed my eyes out. Thank God Markson's got more brains than I do. Captain Rehab fucked around with this message at 09:11 on Jul 10, 2007 |
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Jul 10, 2007 09:04
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Markson "No, I actually agree with going in, I was just being rhetorical." Markson begins quickly, then slows down, thinking over if he's just getting carried away as well. Maybe Mike's right. This is probably going to go badly. Maybe we should just go back to the car and move on to battle creek... No. These people are the only link to civilization we have... "I'm not going if you don't, but they're the only links to civilization we have at all, and if we get on thier good side, we might do better then we're doing now." Markson then quickly adds "Whatever we do, we better decide quickly, because I don't know where he's going, and we need to catch up."
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Jul 10, 2007 09:14
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Mike O'Neill Mike actually laughs, despite the stress and fear. "OK, gently caress it, let's go." Mike moves to follow the man. Captain Rehab fucked around with this message at 10:27 on Jul 10, 2007 |
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Jul 10, 2007 10:10
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Raymond Back on the hill outside of town, Raymond eyes the darkening horizon with a worried look. "I-i-if it's going to r-r-r-r-rain again, I don't want to be outside, even in the c-c-car. W-w-we should drive into town and find a b-building for cover."
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Jul 10, 2007 11:21
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Markson Damnit, I don't have a real weapon, Mike's injured... I can't let ourselves do this. "Wait! gently caress. I really want to go, I really do, I'm reconsidering it now and I know that I'll stay up nights wondering what the hell happened and what we ran away from, but I have to face the facts. You're injured, I'm not holding a real weapon, it's just us, and our team is over two miles away. Jesus goddamn christ in heaven I can't let us do this." Markson looks incredibly disapointed by this, and looks to door the man ran into, knowing that this might have been the opertunity of his lifetime. "Damnit, I'm at least getting some new books to make myself feel better. Can I have half an hour to look around and get something? Just yell at me if I take longer."
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Jul 10, 2007 12:46
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Brandon Brandon watches the goings-on from through a pair of binoculars, with Markson's rifle strapped over his shoulder. "I don't think it'd be a good idea to go into town, Ray. Whatever's going on in there seems to have these others worried, and they're a lot more organized than us." He jumps somewhat as the ground trembles underfoot, as though someone were setting off explosives underground. Brandon, with rising fear, wonders what the face smiles, wider and wider, until the skin of its cheek splits and tears, blood and juices running down its chin. A blackbird caws could be going on under there. His right arm begins to throb. Brandon picks up the radio. "Guys, we need to get out of here. It doesn't sound like they want our help or our company. I have a really bad feeling about what's going on here. There's no need to go through this township to get to Battle Creek, right? Let's take the car and find another way around. Please."
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Jul 10, 2007 13:05
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Mike O'Neill "OK, gently caress it, we've probably lost him anyway. I don't think we've got half an hour, though. Grab what you can quick and lets get going. I say we drop back to the town hall and see if the guys can pick us up." Mike uses the walkie talkie to talk to the group as he retreats from the bookstore. "Guys, we're getting the gently caress out of here. Come and pick us up at the town hall if you can - I think these guys have bigger fish to fry than us right now, gigantic loving fish. If you don't mind, I'd like to stop a safe distance away from town and see if we can see what the gently caress's going on, or pick up some more on the radio. I think the guy we spoke to said they were military, and they weren't shooting at us." With that he backs out of the bookstore quickly, eyes darting from the door the man disappeared through to the surrounding streets, aiming to get to the town hall as quickly as possible. Captain Rehab fucked around with this message at 13:18 on Jul 10, 2007 |
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Jul 10, 2007 13:12
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Markson "Damnit! Fine, I'll just take ones I can remember the title of and desperately want. I'll be right behind you." Markson makes a beeline to where a complete collection of Sherlock Homes stories would be, and then runs to the town hall. ST 9 DX 11 IQ 14 HT 9 HP 8 Will 11 Per 14 FP 8 Basic Move 6 13 - Prof-Skill (Librarian) 10 - Running
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Jul 10, 2007 13:29
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June 21st, 3:40 P.M. Compared to the silence previously experienced, the plethora of loud and wild noises is a veritable cacophony of adrenaline and tension. Mike is the first to notice that added to the mixture is now an increasingly -worse- stench than that of the bodies outside. Something in between acrid rotting meat and sulfur. Not long after, Mike feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he watched John hurriedly trying to pick through scattered piles of books on the floor. As if the symphony of gunfire and the screaming over the radios had not been enough indicator of something terrible transpiring, the light outside of the book store dims suddenly and dramatically, clouds having roiled to block out the sun. With a final excited caw, the blackbird takes to flight, wafting away from the structure on beating wings. John scarcely notices another, smaller 'aftershock' to the earlier rumbling tremor--he's spotted an excellent condition compilation of the collective Sherlock Holmes mysteries in an aisle. As he hurries closer to the tome, faint wisps of smoky vapor unfurl from a hole in the floor behind it, just shy of two feet in diameter. Something moves down in it--and he hears the faintest echo of muffled gunfire from the hole--though this sound is overtaken by a scrabbling, scratching sound. Emerging from the dark depths of the hole a gaunt pale face appears, misshapen and askew--asymmetrical. He hauls and drags, feverishly eager to climb free of the tight tunnel, wholly black eyes locked intently on the man stooped so close. As it nears the surface, and John, its lips curl back into a broad wicked smile, jaws beginning to clatter rapidly, creating a crackling, keening sound. Mike hears an unholy high-pitched squeal from not far from John. A few spattering droplets of rain hit the pavement outside. From the hill, the remainder of the group observes the semi cab and two other vehicles driving quickly eastward towards the edge of town. From the rearmost vehicle periodic muzzle flashes appear accompanied by the sound of rapid gunfire. Some strange lumpy mass, perhaps the size of a grizzly bear, bolts down the street in pursuit of the vehicles. Thunder rumbles over the city, and with a sudden crack, a bolt of lightning arcs from the sky and strikes the lightning rod atop City Hall.
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Jul 10, 2007 13:52
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Markson "poo poo! poo poo! Mother of gently caress! poo poo!" and other various 'useful' phrases fly out of Markson's mouth as he sees Mr. Pale creepy crawler. Markson jumps backwards, lands on his rear end, but pulls himself up pretty quickly, turning as he gets up running towards Mike and presumably the exit, while at the same time getting his walkie talkie out, yelling into it: "WHOEVER IS HOLDING THE RIFLE RIGHT NOW, YOU HAD BETTER drat WELL BE GETTING READY TO COVER US." ST 9 DX 11 IQ 14 HT 9 HP 8 Will 11 Per 14 FP 8 Basic Move 6 Combat Paralysis Wutasumi fucked around with this message at 14:03 on Jul 10, 2007 |
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Jul 10, 2007 14:00
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Jacob Jacob jumps in the drivers seat, "GET IN!" Once the other guys are in the car Jacob backs it out onto the street and tries to quickly get to the group at the book store without doing damage to the car. "Tell them to get their asses outside and be ready to pile in!" code:
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Jul 10, 2007 18:14
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Evan Douglas "You guys, this storm is moving fast. We need to get the car under cover quick, I don't know how long it takes to go from this to that," says Evan, pointing first at the Taurus and second at one of the rusted-out wrecks, "But today's not the day I want to find out." Evan sits down and buckles up, his revolver at the ready, just in case. code:
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Jul 10, 2007 18:53
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Raymond Looking up to the sky, Raymond feels a malicious intent in the speed of the storm's approach. We're not going to make it in time. He loosely wraps a poncho around his hands, ready to force to door open the moment the get to the two in town, hopefully without getting any of the precipitation on himself. "T-t-tell them to g-g-get ready to jump in! We have to g-grab them and then get under s-s-something!"
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Jul 10, 2007 20:33
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Brandon Brandon grabs the radio and unslings the hunting rifle, slipping into the shotgun seat. "Guys, get out of the building and try to find some place where you're shielded from the rain. I'm coming to pick you up. Whatever you do, stay away from any holes in the ground." Brandon turns to Jacob. "I know we're in a hurry but you've got to take it pretty easy. There's tons of obstacles on the way there and if we crash the car we'll be stranded in the rain and we'll all die." Seeing his excitement, Brandon does his best to seem calm, though his heart is racing. "Just don't panic, whatever you do. We'll all get out of this just fine. Just make sure to steer clear of any potholes or any other large holes in the road." If something gets too close and seems like an imminent danger, I will take as many rounds to aim at it as seems practical, until I max out the aiming bonus, and will then take a shot with the rifle. code:
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Jul 10, 2007 20:54
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Mike O'Neill "TOWN HALL! TOWN HALL!", Mike is yelling both into the walkie talkie and at Markson. He lets Markson run past him just a little and follows, throwing glances behind him to see if whatever was making that horrible noise in the bookstore is following. He recalls some burnt out barricades at the town hall entrance and hopes that between them and his shotgun he can hold off whatever's coming long enough for the other guys to pick them up. code:
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Jul 10, 2007 23:07
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Blackbird Dreams - Sordid Soliloquy(Chapter 1) June 21st, 4:00 P.M. Mike and John beat feet for the main steps of City Hall--and Mike gets more than he bargained for with his fleeting glance, seeing the misshapen man emerging from that hole giddily cackling and squealing. Even armed, the prospect of loosing a shotgun round at that thing is too much standing still for one's own good. Still, hauling down the main street, the thing does not seem to follow the duo out in the open. Thunder rumbles once more overhead, another arch of lightning splitting the sky and cracking down into a stop sign on the opposite sidewalk, flaring up a shower of sparks and shrapnel. Something about the storm seems downright freakish and sinister--and the fat drizzle that dapples at the two is uncomfortably hot and irritates whatever flesh it -does- find, indicative of what a proper downpour will reap. The remainder of the party, loaded up into the Taurus, does their best to navigate down the remainder of the hill and into Brady Heights. Jacob is faced with some tricky driving to avoid obstacles in the street, from rusted car pile-ups to wreckage, the felled front of a building, and an enormous sinkhole with a decidedly more unsettling air about it than those previously encountered. The report of gunfire has grown somewhat distant by now to the east, though it does continue from time to time--the triage of vehicles long gone by now. As the rain begins to fall more heavily, a faint mist sizzles from the blacktop of the pavement, Mike and John reaching the awning at the front of City Hall scantly in time to avoid any serious acid rain. Inside of the building, however, the two receive more than they bargained for. The entire entryway is literally piled with corpses in various states of decay, and the smell is nearly enough to make knees week and heads light. The Taurus pulls into sight, a mere block away now, and the two holed up in City Hall see a surge of movement at the southern edge of town--more than dozen individuals, striding headlong through the rain as they are scathed and sizzled against their exposed flesh, seeming unhindered by the pain of the acidic fluid. The lot of them seem to be clamoring for entrance to the vehicle, though slow as it goes it remains out of their reach as of yet. "Stop!" they cry. "See with us!" they wail, a mixture of male and female voices pleading--though the faces to whom they belong are all possessed of hollowed, empty sockets. There is a rumble again, and the floor shakes within City Hall. Behind Mike and John, tile begins to buckle in upheaval, dirty and splintered understructure sinking readily into a widening hole in the floor. The two catch glimpse of eyes within the recesses of the unholy pit gaping before them, and Mike can't help but squeeze off a round from his shotgun, though to seemingly little effect. Jacob pulls the car around to the base of the steps, honking the horn insistently. Rain sizzles against the poncho covering the sun roof, and the dirty on the chassis of the Taurus seems to melt readily away beneath the rain. As of yet, however, the paint job of the sedan seems to be holding up to the caustic downpour--but then again, the rain has hardly begun to start as of yet. Mike and John expend two fatigue points hauling rear end for dear life. Jacob does some successful tricky driving to avoid getting the Taurus stuck through some particularly tight turns and obstacles. There are more than twelve apparent Cerebrosus victims approaching from the south, still about a block away. Inside of City hall, Mike and John are subject to a fright check, which both fail to a minor degree, and will thus suffer some roll penalties till they stabilize. The hole which has opened up within City Hall is about forty feet away from the two, at the base of the main staircase in the structure. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 00:53 on Jul 11, 2007 |
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Jul 11, 2007 00:30
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Mike O'Neill All rational thought seems to have deserted Mike at this point, and the only reaction his body can muster to all the horrors around him is a primal one: flee. He runs as fast as he can towards the waiting car, attempting to get to, and inside, it as quickly as possible, before the cerebrosus victims down the street or the thing in the town hall catch up. All he can do once both him and Markson are inside the car is yell "DRIVE! DRIVE!" code:
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Jul 11, 2007 01:02
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Brandon Gray Brandon reaches for the door behind his seat and flings it open as Markson and O'Neill sprint for the car. He is holding the rifle between his legs now, with the safety on, muzzle facing the ceiling--it would be stupid to ruin it by dangling it outside in the acid rain to take useless shots at an essentially unstoppable horde of cerebrosus victims. Instead, he brandishes the small .22 revolver in one hand while gesturing insistently for the others to come on with the other. Once they are in, he keeps a close eye on the approaching group and says to Jacob without turning around: "Just don't drive faster than you have to. I'll tell you if they're getting close and you need to speed up, just concentrate on not hitting anything. If the car crashes, we're all dead." I'm assuming at this point that the only real way out of the town is straight through, right? code:
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Jul 11, 2007 01:09
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Markson Markson has learned many things from Mike over the year in the Bunker, but one thing he never realized before was the insane amount of curse words he picked up. This wonderous ability he learned only came up when the hole came up, and when he heard the horn honking, ran as quickly as he had ever run before in his life. ST 9 DX 11 IQ 14 HT 9 HP 9 Will 11 Per 14 FP 6 Basic Move 6 R. Skill: 10 - Running
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Jul 11, 2007 01:09
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Mike and John successfully rejoin the rest of the group in the Taurus. Viable routes are north and east, though you could also conceivably turn the vehicle around and attempt to drive through the cerebrosus victims, back to the south & west. The rain is still not especially heavy, though it does irritate skin exposed to it. Foul smells hang in the air, even inside of the Taurus at present.
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Jul 11, 2007 01:12
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Brandon Gray Brandon looks at O'Neill and Markson as the door shuts and the car drives away, hopefully leaving the approaching horde at a fairly safe distance. Keeping one eye on the victims down the street, he says: "Careful not to touch anyone else with those ponchos. Are either of you burned?" Little too early to risk this fancy new car committing mass vehicular homicide just for the sake of going over the slim pickings in the convenience store again. I vote we continue on to the north, out of the town and toward Battle Creek.
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Jul 11, 2007 01:18
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Raymond Looking through the rear window of the vehicle as they travel, much too slowly, through the city, leave's Raymonds knunckles white as he clutches the door handle. His seat belt is the primary means of preventing him from falling to the pavement when he bursts the rear door of the Taurus open to grant Mike and Markson entry. "G-g-g-g-g-g-get in get GET IN!" he cries, starting seconds before they even reach the door. If those...people...don't get us, the rain is going to dissolve the car and turn us into them as well. They're going to reach us and smash the windows, and we'll all get soaked. We can't escape. We're going to run out of gas before we can reach any shelter. It's going to be a slow, painful descent into madness. We should never have left the shelter. Even if we escape, we'll run out of food and water. Oh god. Slamming his hand on the door lock, he joins the chorus directed at Jacob. "D-DRIVE! DRIVE!"
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Jul 11, 2007 01:19
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Jacob "North? North looks good, it will get us farther away from those things coming from the south." Without really waiting Jacob takes off to the north trying to get as far as possible before the rain really kicks into gear. "We gotta find some shelter before we do too much damage to the car. Keep a look out for something, anything." Jacob concentrates on the road and keeping from hitting anything.
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Jul 11, 2007 01:23
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Markson Markson attempts not to touch anyone with the poncho as best he can, while at the same time, shouting "DRIVE! THERE'S SOMETHING BACK THERE! IT'S *HUGE*!" We know the road conditions to the store, and we know there arn't insane carjackers there, and we also know there's more then ample cover and decent sleeping positions. I vote mass vehicular homocide EDIT: Guess my vote dosn't count. I'm going to spend a few rounds thinking happy thoughts and calming down, getting rid of that fright penalty
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Jul 11, 2007 01:23
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Mike O'Neill "I'm not burnt, I don't think. I'm not burnt", Mike says breathlessly as the car starts driving. When he calms down and notices that they're driving north, he says, "Guys, we'll be driving straight into the storm if we keep going north. I'd rather head east and take my chances with the guy we talked to and his buddies. For all we know Battle Creek is full of these fuckers."
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Jul 11, 2007 01:38
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Maneuvering the vehicle is about as tricky as it had been approaching from the south. To make matters worse, not long after you pull off from the municipal City Hall building, the glass quadruple doors of the entryway buckle and explode outward to make way for a grizzly-bear sized mass of flesh, eyeballs, and screeching doom. Clawing deep scything gouges into the pavement of the steps, it begins a hot pursuit of the Taurus, heedless of the very obstacles which slow your own progress down! Just off the edge of town, there is a concrete bridge over a river. At best, you may be able to drive at 30mph in these conditions, and to make matters worse the rain on the pavement seems to be making your tires stick! Edit: Removed North. Not trying to lead you folks on. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 02:00 on Jul 11, 2007 |
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Jul 11, 2007 01:41
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Markson "What in the gently caress is chasing us!? What's going on with this goddamn world!?! I don't care what direction we're going as long as it's loving away from that... that... THING." Markson is visibly freaked out at this point, breathing heavily and his eyes darting in every direction. Noticing this himself, he attempts to breath deep, calm breaths, knowing that freaking out isn't going to do him any good.
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Jul 11, 2007 02:13
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Raymond "Ev-ev-everything is corrupt, d-defiled...I knew it...I knew it..." Raymond's starting to breath quickly, the atmosphere of terror in the vehicle driving him into his own world for a brief moment before the sluggish handling of the car jars him back into reality. These are the monstrocities that were chasing us in my dreams. They'll never grow tired, never lose interest, and never give up. I have to figure out what's going on, how we can fight back... "W-w-we must go faster! If th-th-that thing catches us, w-w-were finished!"
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Jul 11, 2007 02:57
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Brandon "Jacob," Brandon says, unable to take his eyes off the massive creature, "you're doing good. Just keep concentrating on the road ahead, and pick up the pace a little." He does his utmost to keep his rising panic out of his voice. "We're almost out of here."
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Jul 11, 2007 03:44
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Markson "We can't even shoot the thing because we'd have to open the windows in this rainstorm to do that! Damnit! What are we supposted to do?!" Markson yells out to noone in particular as the road bounces on ahead, John totally unable to keep his eyes off the creature chasing them as they bounce along.
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Jul 11, 2007 03:53
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Blackbird Dreams - Sordid Soliloquy(Chapter 1) June 21st, 4:06 P.M. Lightning booms across the sky, lighting up the beast as rain begins to hammer the scene around you now. With a proper glimpse of the thing, you immediately wish you hadn't--though it is similar in size to a bear, it looks like anything but. Instead, its very existence is a crime against all that is good and wholesome; each of its four misshapen legs is in actuality a lumpy cornucopia of melted and scarred flesh, composed of several formerly 'human' limbs--arms and legs twisted together as casually as vines might encircle a tree trunk. The 'head' of the beast snaps and gibbers with more than a dozen toothy mouths, but worst of all are the eyes. Dozens of them, some bloodshot, some milky, all of them darting wildly, ceaselessly searching. It is as if man piled onto man, woman onto woman, and their collaborative flesh ran and pooled together. Jacob's glimpse in the rear-view mirror is just brief enough to return his eyes ahead, whereupon he swerves barely in time to avoid hitting the creature Mike and John had fled from in the book store. It leaps at the Taurus, bouncing off of the rear driver side door with a wet smack. Behind you, the beast rears its 'head' and roars a terrible chorus of wailing cries that make your head hurt. It takes several awkward lumbering steps after the fleeing vehicle, loose red flesh slapping against the pavement and leaving sticky trails of gooey skin and pus. BOOM! Thunder crackles, and lightning strikes a lamp post not far ahead, sending sparks and shards of glass flying. The traction on the Taurus becomes difficult--a combination of slightly melted rubber and hydroplaning streaking skids. Lumbering hurriedly in your wake, the beast wheezes large trails of phlegm from its many orifices, but has difficulty keeping up once you pick up speed. Jacob swerves again, weaving amidst pot holes and debris--it would seem that you're nearly in the clear. With a heavy shudder and a sound like flesh being crackled like bubble-wrap, the beast rolls a large lump of flesh sharply. The back window of the Taurus spiderwebs cracks around a hole the size of a quarter as a sharp foot long bone buries into the dashboard. John feels a sharp pain--the trajectory scathed his right shoulder. Tires screech and squeal as another, final, sharp turn is made successfully without spinning out of control. Behind you, the beast seems to now decided to occupy itself with the flock of cerebrosus victims--and faintly, over the rain and distance, you can hear them wail and scream, begging for mercy's favor as the creature begins gorging upon their still-living flesh ravenously. Jacob pulls away from the edge of Brady Heights, and is very nearly in the clear. Ahead lies the bridge out of the north end of town; there is a deep furrow in the ground which had been a river long ago. Fluid still flows in the recess, but its true content is questionable at best now. The bridge does not seem to be in the best of shape--a large hole having crumbled out from the lane opposite your own. The fabric behind the back seats sizzles with rain leaking through the hole there, hissing loudly. Louder still is the WHUMP that resounds when John's friend from the book store lands atop the Taurus's trunk, gashing deep gouges into the steel of the vehicle with its claws in a display of shocking ease. It begins giggling madly, smile spreading wider, and wider, and wider until the skin begins to rip and tear, exposing more and more of the teeth in its jaws. This display is sufficient opportunity for a shot to be taken from one regaining their nerve inside the Taurus--the hitchhiker bounces from the rear of the car, and vanishes into the gap in the bridge, the report of a splash sounding from the 'river' below. June 21st, 4:36 P.M. Brady Heights has all but disappeared in the distance behind you, and it isn't long before you've driven clear of the acid rain once again. To one side of the road, a rusted sign is passed, upon which you barely make out: 'Battle Creek 28' Some amazing success rolls for evasive driving by Jacob, bravo. John takes 2 hit points of damage. Deduct a round of shotgun ammunition for sending your salient stowaway off the vehicle. The Taurus has taken an undisclosed amount of damage. Roughly 12 miles worth of gas is used up in the above narrative. 2 fatigue points from everyone. You're all feeling very hungry and thirsty. Edit: As Prussian has mentioned to me, the cackling of your unexpected passenger was not far off from the 'noid' of old dominos commercials, but hardly so light-hearted. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 04:12 on Jul 11, 2007 |
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Jul 11, 2007 04:09
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