A Harsh Reality Chapter 1 : Legacies, Lovers and Toxins

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"Bloody Hell!" Remington yelled as he looked around for escape routes "You're not expecting me to fight these guys are you?"
"What?" Ferago replied in a somewhat shocked voice "You're going to run away?"
"Hell yeah!" Remington said as he ran down the left alley. As he passed the corner, he ran straight into the end of one of the attackers.

Ferago quickly turned his head as he heard a gun shot from the direction of which Remington had runned. Ferago crawled over to the other side of the roof, from there he saw a man walk down the alley. It was one of the attackers. As Ferago made ready to shoot the man, he could see another man comming around the alley. He was holding his left arm to his chest, and his right arm was firmly pointing a .223 at the back of the attacker. The gun went of, and the attacker fell to the ground.

"Thank god for Leather Armor Mark II!" Remington yelled as he walked up to the body of the attacker "It's not the first time it's saved my life you know!" Remington said as he fired a bullet into the head of the attacker.
"Very high quality!" he contiued while firing yet another bullet into the head of the attaker. "I do so love it!" Remington said as he shot a final bullet into what remained of the attackers head.
 
"Waco" Ferago said as he turned his attention back to the front of the building. He took aim at a faction member in the middle of the crowd. Ferago fired once and hit the man in the chest, killing him. Unfortunately for Ferago this didn't go unnoticed. A woman, who was next to the man, saw Ferago on the roof. Putting her sword away she pulled an Uzi from her trench coat and began making her way through the battle toward the front of the inn, firing at the roof as she went. Ferago ducked back behind the chimney, bullets chipping and whizzing off the stone near him. The firing suddenly stopped. "She must be reloading" Ferago said to him self, "Or she's coming up here" The after thought wasn't very pleasing. He turned his attention to the ladder, expecting her to appear over the side of the roof. CLINK! Something landed on the roof next to Ferago. "Damn it!" It was a grenade. Panicking he kicked the grenade off the roof and jumped back behind the chimney. The grenade didn't travel very far before it exploded in mid air, spraying shrapnel down on the crowd.
 
OOC - My posts are kind of different for now but here goes.

The conflict unfolded, moving on at a rapid pace. Watchers looked on in interest from every direction. Some hid in the buildings, in retreat from the battle, others sat in their homes with no intent to interfere. Likely the townspeople who had seen combat often, though never on this scale it was still too frequent an occurrence.

Now the counter attack seemed based around conflict from the roof tops. Though that was not entirely true. On one distant building to the south of the square a black figure was stood, dressed in a long leather coat like the attackers he dusted his hands, eyes set on the battle before him. It seemed he was studying it somehow. In his position, he was far enough from the conflict to be caught in the conflict.

Moments later he seemed satisfied he had seen what he needed. He moved forward and took a jump off of the one story building landing gracefully on the floor in front. The dead shell of an automobile shaded the ground in front of him.

The figure closed on the vehicle with his coat blowing in a gentle breeze behind him. His face showed no emotion but a hardened traveler perfectly read for a fight. He closed on the car taking up a position just beneath the window.

The figure had red hair parted at the front and hanging just at shoulder level. A stylish pre-war dye obviously created the dark glint in his hair. It mingled perfectly with the darkness of his Trench Coat, a slightly tilted head setting it’s eyes forward on the conflict. He was about 6’ 5” in height though that was probably out somewhat. He wore a simple black T-shirt and pants under his coat though they were well hidden by it’s bulk. He had a black rucksack swung gently over his back. It was about a quarter filled though probably less with a fairly large capacity. He placed that on the floor and took out a sniper rifle. He set that upon the smashed window of the car and placed his eye on the sight.

He was confident he was currently unseen. He set the weapon upon one target in the inside circle. With a gentle pull of the trigger and a slight click a skull was pierced and a face covered in blood. The faction members quickly fell to the ground clutching at his face. Though he seemed to have survived that, one further click ended his life. The figure let out a gentle smile, they were winning.

He turned and set the sight on another target, another click and another life gone.

OOC – I think the battle can continue for a few more posts like this. Likely sometime over the weekend I’ll bring the combat to an end if you guys don’t mind. That is if your chas want to try anything do so now because at least for a while this might be the last of the combat situation posts. We’ll probably be moving into introductions and stories soon of course. I have some plans for the future. As I previously said those surviving should meet up in Garret’s Tavern. We’ll arrange cha sheets and such there. I think I know what’ll be done by the enemy from here though it will be at a great cost.

Keep up the good work


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It's only cheating if you get caught
- Fang_Of_the_BOS@hotmail.com
 
Bob kicked the humvee into revearse and backed off of the people he hit. He put it back in drive when Bob noticed someone shooting at the roof. Unabel to see anything on the roof he turned his attention to her again. She tosed a grenade on the roof. "@^*%! That might hit me." Bob turned in his seat to watch were he was going when he back way from the fight. He never shifted from drive. The humvee barrled through a thinner portion of the mob. Fragments from the explosion peircee the trunk. Bob stomped on the breaks. "My car!" Bob came out through the gun hatch. He swung the M60 around to shoot at the crowd. Suddenly he noticed a man on the roof shooting down on the people.
 
OOC – Ahh well I couldn’t resist

Blade raised his head once more and let out another burst “Damn” He whispered.

His bursts were well aimed but not as effective as he’d hoped. From his position he was sure that precise weapons would have worked better. Frantically he rummaged through his pack but alas, there was nothing of the sort there. Now where was his rifle he wondered?

At last he pulled a pack of grenades from his rucksack. With a smile he pulled the pin of the first and launched it as far as he could through the window to the center of the square

“Whoops,” He thought as the grenade rolled and exploded in close proximity to the vehicle in the middle of the battlefield, throwing shrapnel in every direction. The inner most section of the circle was barely effected but it left a dent on the outside. And that was all he needed.

Blade shoved open the door an burst out. He raised his weapon and let out a burst on the first soldier he saw, who was wounded by the blast. With a smothering of blood he was reduced to the status of a mere corpse. With superior agility and a hell of a lot of adrenaline he spun around to destroy the next victim. With another burst and a further spilling of blood he had created a fair whole in the shell the attackers had now formed. There was a third victim a way in front of him and slightly to the right. He pulled on the trigger leaping backwards and through the door way.

He looked out of the window as soon as he got through. His last victim was rather bloody though still well within the reach of life. With that he stood up, blood covering the surface before him. He laughed, with his weapon already raised he had set up a perfect shot. He chuckled as he closed on the northern tavern and inn.

“Just a little closer,” Blade though to himself as the attacker came towards him

With several more steps Blade prepped and threw the grenade in his hand out of the window. It struck directly onto the figure charging. Blade ducked to shield himself from the impact. Several seconds later after the BOOM had expired he raised himself to his feet looking out onto the damage caused. Before him the remaining, but now severed, limbs of the attackers, still coated in black leather lay around the floor. A gentle blaze animated them as what was left soon burned away. Around that the stains of shrapnel and not to mention the blood of the fallen were sat. Somehow that gave Blade a laugh. He’d done it

*********************************************************************

Blade looked out at the dent he had carved into the structure of the attackers. He smiled slightly and let out a full burst to the inner circle. It was still way too dangerous to make any sort of approach beyond this shelter. Even now more reinforcements were plummeting over the buildings to Blade’s right were filling in the missing spaces

But Blade was determined not to let the opportunity pass. With a solemn look in his eyes he turned right and set a burst across the oncoming reinforcements. For some reason he had set himself up well for the newer combatants were jumping right into his bullets. The first few were caught in the reign of bullets, they began to dance, blood leaking from their veins, they fell to the floor to join their comrades in death. More and more of them came and from all sides of that building but Blade caught them all within his burst. Until a couple of dozen bodies lay on the floor to his right and his rifle gave an all too familiar *Click* to symbolize that he was out of ammunition. He placed his weapon the floor beside him, somewhat reluctantly but proudly.



*********************************************************************
Garret had retreated somewhat and was now propped against his establishment door and frantically releasing rounds from his rifle towards the crowd. Now he was only fighting to keep himself from being struck down. Rank was beside him also letting off shots forward. Garret was slowly backing up until suddenly he was able to duck into his establishment with Rank behind him they jammed a table into the door.

Garret directed the frantic crowds within back into the chambers of the building and aided in slowly attempting to direct some of them out of the windows to flee.

Meanwhile, Rank was perched against a window letting out defensive fire to cover his area though now it was barely being covered by enemy fire. Instead it seemed that those core troops were moving outwards to take on some previously unseen opponents.

*********************************************************************

The figure looked to his left (Blade’s right), coming towards him a great crowd of reinforcements. Seemingly, they were less skilled than the first else a dozen of their bodies wouldn’t already be littering the floor. Most were coming from atop that building though many came from the sides. The most from the distant side and the roof, Blade has taken out previously. The figure placed his weapon the ground, a few more shoots accomplished first of course, and picked out two SMGs.

He frantically reached forward, opening the vehicle door and perching behind it. The Window was mostly smashed and provided a perfect rest for both his guns to sit. He focused them forward and with another sly smile, pulled back the trigger and let it rip.

Though some escaped the fold the majority were caught in the fire and their battered remains littered the distant floor. Figures fell to lie upon others, they seemed so casual in their eternal rest. It was nearly sad, “Nah,” he thought, keeping the trigger pressed

“How much longer can they keep this up?” The question on all the defenders minds was. They were using up a large amount of resources. Though perhaps this was only a diversion, the figure thought.

OOC – Any of you have ICQ?

My Number is: 104471890 I believe


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It's only cheating if you get caught
- Fang_Of_the_BOS@hotmail.com
 
OOC - By the way, do you guys want me to do as Squigge did with South of the Border? That is take all the posts and check and correct them for spelling, grammar and plot mistakes and overall correct some of the things that went wrong.

I've been told, By Archon if any of you know him, that these threads make for losuy reads no matter how good they are to play. /Me blames that on the countless spelling and plot mistakes we happen to lay everywhere.

Anyway i had hope'd as Squigee did, feeling somewhat reponsible for this ideas and wanting to make it a presentable as possible. Besides most of the spelling mistakes are on my part anyways

Besides this system only allows us to make changes to the posts if it's within 30 minutes right? Kinda crappy if we want to update a month later right.

Ohh and of course remove all the OOC's from the finished version. - Can't forget that!
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It's only cheating if you get caught
- Fang_Of_the_BOS@hotmail.com
 
OOC: Ok, I said I was going to come in and now I am. ;)

IC: It was the staccatto noise of gunfire that finally awoke the young man from his feverish hallucinations. Swirling between the horizon of his reality and imagination were buildings, large metal skeletons thrusting their dead limbs in the air as if surrendering to their dismal fate. He realized that his feet were moving, and he forced them to stop. Rubbing two grimy fists in his large, hazel eyes, he finally cleared the remaining cobwebs of fantasy from his perception, and surveyed his surroundings. Of course, he could not have known where he was. The Waste stared back at him, unyielding and unremorseful. He suddenly realized that he had come that way, and now could never go back. He turned his back to it in a gesture of dismissal and hunched his back to the slight breeze coming in from the buildings.

It came in a rush, a sickening wave that tore his gut out of his body and threw it to the ground. He couldn't remember anything about who he was or what he was supposed to be doing. He stopped again, groping about his body for some sign of recognition, some object that would identify him. His drab, olive-colored jump suit did not provide him with any answers, but his fingers picked up a minute bulge in one of his many pockets. Digging in with searching fingers, his hand closed on something smooth and metallic. Withdrawing the object from his pocket, he held it up to the feeble rays of sun that escaped the cover of the clouds. "HSI Mauser M/96," he mumbled, "Nine millimeter ammunition, seven round magazine." A weapon used to kill. The wooden handgrip felt familiar to him, comforting in a strange way. He returned it to his pocket, keeping a grasp on the handle with desperation. "What does it mean, what does it tell me," he silently thought to himself, but the whispers of memories forgotten tormented him, and he could not bear to press his thoughts deeper. Indeed, thinking just made his head hurt worse than it already was...This new observation caused his hand to jerk awkwardly up to his forhead, and it was met by a dried, crusted substance. He slowly withdrew his hand, realizing that the substance was his own blood.

The distant yawn of an explosive once again woke him from his own horrible thoughts. A new curiosity arose in him as he recognized more familiar sounds. Gunfire. A conflict. "Maybe it is something important," he reassured himself, although he was not convinced. He set off at a trot, his feet kicking up dust that soon merged with the dust from the fighting in the town.

Using the cover of buildings to shield his movement in a method familiar yet clouded, the young man closed on the site, the shouts and noise of the participants now carrying more clearly on the wind. The occational round cleared the fray and came whizzing toward him, but he was well protected by the ancient skeletal buildings. Seeing the flash of a broken set of stairs inside one of structures, he rushed inside, avoiding various pieces of derelict furniture to reach his destination. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, he barely reached the top before the twisted metal finally gave way to his weight, crashing to the floor below. The young man stumbled away from the gaping hole, falling to the surface of the roof. Turning onto his stomach, he crawled to the edge of flat surface, cautiously peering over the raised railing toward the source of the noise...

Bodies. Suddenly, the young man was somewhere else, his eyes glazed over in an unseeing stare. Images flashed before him, as raw as a fresh wound from a knife. Bodies torn apart...he was back, crouching from twenty-five feet above the fallen corpses of the townfolk, felled as they were fleeing from their antagonizers. He blinked, brushing his long, sandy hair away from his eyes. "Ok, focus, don't crack up," he chanted to himself, trying to keep hysteria from taking control of his limbs. Exhaling sharply, he retrieved his Mauser from it's resting place, flicking the safety off in the process. Hoisting it against his shoulder, he observed the situation again, trying to distingush the attackers from the defenders and being careful not to look at any more cadavers. Apparently, the soldiers clad in black were attacking the defenders of this portion of the town. Occasionally their concentration of fire would catch pockets of townspeople that could not find shelter fast enough. "Right, maybe I should do something besides gawk at the whole scene," the young man thought, leveling his gun at one of the many soldiers trying to assault one of the squat buildings surrounding the sqare. His finger rested on the trigger, his hand was steady, but he hesitated. The uneasy feeling of inexperience settled over him, and he realized that killing was something he had never had to do. Swallowing hard, he again lined up his shot and forced his finger to lightly squeeze the trigger. The recoil of the gun felt familiar and he quickly recovered his aim. His target had toppled and was now bleeding from the temple and writhing on the ground. He breathed a sigh of relief, exhausted by the effort of having to kill a fellow human. Using an effort of will, he steeled himself and leveled his pistol again...

OOC: Sorry that was so long, but I had to establish my character and myself. As for correction, Fang, that would be cool. It's always good to have correct spelling, etc. Can't wait to see what'll happen next!

-The Vault Drooler-
-fingledorf@hotmail.com-
 
OOC - Sorry, I was just making sure no one wanted to use this oppertunity for anything. A combat of this scale probably won't occur again for a while. Anyway if you are happy for combat to come to a conclusion i'll make and IC post tommorow (or later tonight if i'm lucky)

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It's only cheating if you get caught
- Fang_Of_the_BOS@hotmail.com
 
[font size=1" color="#FF0000]LAST EDITED ON Jan-29-02 AT 09:21PM (GMT)[p]OOC:just freakin' end the battle.
 
[font size=1" color="#FF0000]LAST EDITED ON Jan-29-02 AT 09:22PM (GMT)[p]OOC:Oops my finger sliped
 
[font size=1" color="#FF0000]LAST EDITED ON Feb-03-02 AT 08:09PM (GMT)[p]OOC - Sorry, school's been busy, if you're still in this here goes. Rather short but i've rewritten it ten times or so

IC -

A Masked figure erupted from the crowd of attackers, previously established as a leader, he wore a golden mask across his face. He was rather tall and muscular though much of his bulk was hidden under black leather. You could almost see a cruel smile mounting on his masked face as he looked down on his enemy. Groans erupted from the fallen victim, the masked figure swung his leg and kicked his victim in the ribs. He raised his weapon and aimed it at victim. He approached further and placed it against his skull. The victim was a long haired youth clad in a blue overall, it was torn and broken at the seams and ripped all over, much of it had been patched and re-patched and was covered in dirt. Despite this though he was sensible and his image reassuring, he had been earlier establishing peace between two confronting warriors. He was one of the guardians and had stayed at his post until the very last moment. Now he was upon the floor and being beaten. The masked figure grappled his neck and lifted him from the floor until he was about a foot above it. He turned and released his victim who fell hard to the tarmac with a loud scream. The figure rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a handcuff, he bound one end to his wrist and the other to that of the victim. He raised himself and grabbed the rist of the victim and dragged him rapidly, shouting and screaming from the scene.

Around him the leather figure formed a circle of protection so as to shield their leader from stray bullets. Another figure sat behind a nearby vehicle set his sights on that one, raising his rifle. He placed his eye by the site and smiled slightly, this would be a sweet victory

*CLICK* The shot rang in the air, *CLICK*,*CLICK*,*CLICK*,*CLICK*,*CLICK*

He looked up from the ringing of his rifle as to look onto the destruction above him. There the figure was still stood and dragging the victim. He turned around grabbing at his SMGs, raising them to the level of his attacker’s heads.

*CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK*

And blood stained the Earth and he rose and with one more *CLICK* there was death before him. Enraged he gritted his teeth and stood, taking a blade from his pack he made sure that none of them still clutched life. The figure sighed and grabbed at the bodies flinging them from his way. Still they had done what they need do, even if they had given their life for it. He turned and dropped the two machine guns and took up his rifle instead, looking forward through the site.

The Masked figure was gone and gone.

*********************************************************************



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It's only cheating if you get caught
- Fang_Of_the_BOS@hotmail.com
 
[font size=1" color="#FF0000]LAST EDITED ON Feb-13-02 AT 02:53PM (GMT)[p]OOC: Sorry about the wait, Fang, school is taking up so much of my time...

IC: *Clack* As the young man finished off his last round, the metal clip slipped from the barrel of the Mauser and landed with a hollow sound. Quickly dropping to the ground to avoid being hit by any returning fire, he fished in his myriad of pockets for another clip, only to be greeted by the rough touch of the fabric of his jumpsuit. "Great, just great," he muttered to himself, shoving his Mauser back into its resting place. Cautiously placing his hands on the metal railing, he peered over to see if his efforts had been rewarded by the death of his enemies...

Yule Byron allowed a broad grin to sweep across his face as the dying screams of some Guardians graced his ears. With one fluid, mechanical motion Yule snatched a clip from his belt and rammed it into his MP5. One of his companions shouted, "Incoming," so Yule was able to hurl himself out of the way in time to shield himself from a fragmentation grenade right as it thumped across the dusty ground and exploded. His ears ringing, Yule rose up from the scrap heap that had shielded him and triggered a fierce burst from his weapon. His skill had not diminished, and his antagonizer was spun around by the impact of rounds into his right side. Yule dropped to the ground again, turning to flash a toothy smile at his companion who was standing behind a wall to shield himself. Yule saw him start to grin back when he suddenly pitched himself down into the dirt, blood oozing from a large wound to the side of his head. Yule quickly leveled his submachine gun and scanned the swiftly ending battle for this unseen assailent. "Lesse," he thought to himself, "tha bullet musta come from an' elevated level due to tha angle of tha woun'..." He crept forward in a crouch, scanning the rooftops with his piercing blue eyes. There! His caution was rewarded by the sight that greeted his eyes: A young snip of a man firing off rounds from a pistol on top of a rooftop about a hundred yards away. "Nighty night," Yule said aloud as he took careful aim down the protruding barrel of his weapon and squeezed the trigger...

*Vip* *Ving* *Fwing* *Ping* "Shit" the young man screamed as a hail of bullets sailed past his head, creating the sound of a buzzing fury of bees. Instinctively he hit the ground as another burst passed through the space where his head had just been. Lying prone on the metallic roof of the building, his head sank to touch the ground. "God, that was close," he whispered. He was starting to consider his new position and a way out of it when the floor started to vibrate with the impact of...something. Then it stopped as quickly as it had started. The young man sat up abruptly. "What the hell was that," he whispered aloud. He was answered only by the dying gunfire coming from the conflict below. Again the roof shivered with another impact, the metal supports below groaning and shifting in protest. He was almost shaken off balance, but quickly put out a hand and steadied himself on the railing. Licking his dry, cracked lips in confusion and nervousness, he tensed, not understanding what was happening. Suddenly, another impact. This time the metal supports beneath him shrieked a final protest and gave way. He plunged downward with a speed that sickened him. His fall was broken almost as soon as it was started, and he was pitched towards the railing and slung over the edge. His flailing arms and legs found no purchase except the rushing air on every side.

Yule grinned as he lowered his gun. He had just cut out the metal supports holding up a side of the building, causing about a fourth of it to collapse in the dust, kicking up plumes of the stuff. "Teach th' lil' bastard not to mess wit' ole' Yule," he muttered to himself, turning his concentration to other, more important tasks. "Ah, there's th' leader now," he thought as he spied a man in a mask running away with the collar of a hostage or something in his hand. "Time to blow dis' joint!"

The young man landed badly, on his side. The impact shook every bone in his body, and his left arm, caught between the ground and his ribs, snapped like a twig. Pain shot into his system like a needle, and it was all he could do to keep from passing out. His gun lay a few feet from him, covered now by dust. His vision swam, but through the stars and bright lights he could make out the last of the building coming down...straight for him! He had a few seconds at best. He rose like a flash with the help of his good hand and he flung his body forward about six feet, landing in a defeated heap. The pain was too much, he couldn't take it any more. The last noise that he was aware of was the *Click* *Click* *Click* of distant gunfire...

OOC: There, I posted. Now everyone has to get back into it! ;-)

-The Vault Drooler-
fingledorf@hotmail.com
 
[font size=1" color="#FF0000]LAST EDITED ON Feb-15-02 AT 03:22PM (GMT)[p]Bob raised his sniper rifle. He peered through the scope. The man in the center of the was shrowded by the soldiers. Bob put the target over the mans head. A grin streched across Bob's face as he pulled the trigger. The second the shoot went of one of the soldiers shot the rifle out of Bob's hands in a burst of sparkes. The ruined rifle fell to the ground. "What the shit!" The bullet from the rifle hurled into the mans arm. Bob reloded his M60. "Crap! Running low on ammo." Bob luanched a spray of hot lead into the crowd ripping the men to shreds.

OOC:You guys have spent too much time in the fan fic board. Quit making chapter long post and start role playing. If you need my character to end this combat go ahead and use him. just get the #!&^ story going.

If you wanted me to snipe him, sorry about that. i have a habbit of prolonging story lines. Besides, i got an M60. I'm about to plow them down.
 
OOC - Ok, you got it. Forgive me, I'm a little rusty

IC -

Blade scanned the battlefield, the troops were disappearing rapidly now their leader was out of sight. Blade looked around, they were abandoning the scene with no regard for the troops left. He retreated himself and headed towards his room where he had two more pistols stashed.

About five minutes later he returned to the front room of the small, empty bar. He smiled; the men were gone from sight now, save for a bunch still on the field. When he was confident that he was not running into an ambush, Blade climbed through the empty window, shrugging as he ran past the door, he headed inwards, both his weapons ringing as he tore down the remaining black soldiers.



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It's only cheating if you get caught
- Fang_Of_the_BOS@hotmail.com
 
OOC - It's short, and kinda crappy but here goes

IC -

Blade picked up his beer and took a swig, “So what was that all about he asked?”

“Gods knows,” Bob replied, standing up and rummaging through his pack

“I’m afraid the town has been consumed in violence as of late. I’m afraid that the Children of Light, have some secret goal,” Garret added serving several more drinks

“Who doesn’t nowadays,” A leather-clad figure called from the corner, “There is something going on in the east and everyone wants a piece of it.”

“Who are you?” Blade asked strangely

“I’m Fang,” The figure answered, “But we’ll save the pleasantries ‘til later. One combat’s over but we shouldn’t wait for long before another arises. Perhaps not as large as that one.”

“Who made you boss?” Blade asked from behind his beer

“I’ve been around enough to know what I’m talking about.” Fang answered, “These Children of Light are up to something. Who would expend so many resources just for one man?”

“The children of light are kinda freaky,” said Garret, “Only they would do such stuff.”

“But what do you think they want?” Blade added

“That’s what we need to find out,” Fang replied, “I propose we head over there in the morning.”

“Walk into their stronghold?” Garret almost yelled, “that’s crazy.”


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It's only cheating if you get caught
- Fang_Of_the_BOS@hotmail.com
 
OOC: Good to see some action here! Let's roll...

IC: The darkness finally gave way to a painful light as the young man finally was roused from his not-so-nice slumber. His left arm felt like a stampede of wild brahmin had crushed it to a pulp. Involuntary memories of the domesticated, two-headed beasts flooded his mind, but the pain soon made him push such thoughts out of his head. Using his good right arm, he pushed himself off the jagged ground. One side of his body was now covered in dust and filth, but that didn't matter to him. Hesitantly he glanced down at his arm. Luckily the bone had only snapped in one place, but the dull glare of white that greeted his eyes told him that this was a compound fracture. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. The words rang with a new volume, and he was startled. All was quiet now, except for the occational groan of the wounded or dying. The stillness was disconcerting, and he shifted his carriage uneasily, looking for someplace that would break the stiffling silence. A sign above a squat building loomed forward in his gaze, one that spoke of rest and comfort. "At least I'll be able to drink myself out of my pain," he said to himself again, stumbling forward towards the inn and clutching his broken arm to his chest.

The metal door squeaked on its hinges as the young man pushed it open and stepped into the well-light room. "Any doctors around here, my arm's broken," he articulated, surveying the occupants of the room. There was a bartender, that he recognized, but he didn't know anyone else. Of course he didn't, he couldn't even remember his own name! After a few moments to clear his head and catch his bearings through the ever-present haze of pain, he sauntered towards the bar, pulling up an ancient stool to sit down.

OOC: Sorry Bob, I just love long posts! ;-)
 
Fang remained still as another figure stumbled through the door, his arms were rested against the corner, eyes sucking in his surroundings. One hand rested gently against the end of a sub machine gun, his fingers stroking his weapon gently. His glare kept watching, occasionally redirecting itself to the window next to him. The figure was attended to, by some strange luck there happened to be a doctor in the inn.

The black dressed figure kept watching as the figures engaged in random small talk, he’d heard too much of that in his time. Now it was time to get to business. It seemed they were thinking about his proposal.

Fang sat back and waited for the conversation to turn back towards the topic at hand. He was careful to listen however, taking in the random details about the people around him, record them neatly in his mind, in case any of them were ever needed.

His eyes turned on the ground and he waited, waited, as the groups drowned themselves in their ales. Fang picked up his own drink every now and then, nodding his head to acknowledge points in the conversation.

He was thinking about his own proposal. There was of course a chance that the events reported in the east had nothing to do with the conflict that occurred that evening. But that chance was remote. He had been that way a short while ago, the events in Broken Hills to the west were always strange, always needed attention.

But if they were going to investigate the oncoming plague, they would benefit strongly from a head start. They could easily be on their way by morning Fang thought. Or they could stay and investigate things here.

This was not the sort of thing Fang usually put much thought in, it was off impulses. Split second decisions in the midst of combat. He always summarized the situations but ultimately the decision was not his to make. He nodded again and took another sip from his beer.

OOC – This is your call guys, basically the group could stay here and investigate this faction, their motives, help protect the refugees and continue with the story here, or we could head straight out east on our journey to find out whatever’s happening there. Either way the stories will likely be interconnected. But as the sorta GM I can’t make many decisions otherwise it becomes as if the other players are just pawns.

Ok, so, take as much time IC as you need. I should be able to make two short posts a day.


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It's only cheating if you get caught
- Fang_Of_the_BOS@hotmail.com
 
OOC: who reads long post all the way through without skimming a bit any way? Just a poll:-)

IC: "Either way, I'm gonna clean the pockets of those bastards outside."

Fang: "You don't have any opinion on what we do or where we go? Are you even comming?"

Bob: "Well it's been my experiance, which I have a lot of, that running of east ends up getting you caught up in somthing that you were never ment to be in and probably should never have gotten into. People end up diing that way." everyone looks at him blankly. "To put it simply I don't have to many happy memories of the east. But if you guys decide to go, it's better than staying here huntin' mutis. There's enough of them out there. I'm in." Bob walks out the door picking up guns and other belongings of the dead men and women in the streets.
 
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