[IC Thread] The World of Ash

[Arctic]

Jovah approached the building, slowing at the edge of the parking lot and gazing around. His eyes fell to the snow just beneath him and he stopped entirely. Rather strangely, he took a large step forward, turning and wiping away some snow from the ground with the stock of his rifle, revealing the weathered curb separating sidewalk and street; it was as he was expecting some trap nestled in to the gutter, but there was nothing. With a slight suck of his lips, he turned, coughed in to his sleeve and approached the visitor's center. Alice approached the door, and Jovah headed to a window (which had been boarded up at some time, but the lower half had been pried open – the boards laid strewn about just inside the window), flattening against the wall beside it. Without a word, Laviendor approached and entered the doorway; Alice followed him and they seemed to split ways. Jovah climbed in, somewhat assured in that the redheaded woman would be taking another window or simply keeping an eye out for an ambush.

 

The inside of the visitor's center was dusty and decrepit. The ground floor, that which the group stood upon, was caked in a thin layer of dust and ash. Wallpaper had been ripped away to reveal the rusted metal supports and tattered insulation foam, much of which had been torn out for fire or as a makeshift blanket at one point or another. Windows were boarded up, though the boards were not fresh; brittle and frosted. It had been some time since anyone had stayed in here for any length of time. Jovah kept his rifle half-raised as his fatigued eyes surveyed the room. When he felt ensured there was nothing, he lowered the weapon and coughed a few times very quietly in to his sleeve.

 

They were standing in the main area. A large trail map display stood off to the left of the entrance and four or five long-since emptied display cases stood around the room. They, too, were caked in dust. The counter sat with a slightly ajar door behind it, clearly labeled 'STAIRWELL' by a bronze plaque. While Jovah had never been here, he had read up on the floor plan – guides were not in short supply for the old nature trails and national park buildings. They were useless to most, so for those who had the ability and time, they provided only some miscellaneous reading. The scavenger knew that the building had three floors; that they stood on, the upper level (a small office which had had its walls ripped away long ago by the winds - it essentially no longer existed) and the basement.

 

In one corner, chairs and tables and some splintering planks sat. While there were various little pieces of furniture scattered around, someone had pushed most of it aside to make space. One table in the midst of the room was stained brown with old, old blood; Jovah figured it had been used for surgery at some point.

 

He coughed and wiped away specks of ash from his face with his thumb. He shook his head slightly at Laviendor's question and resumed surveying the room, unsure if anyone had noticed the gesture.

 

"Question is, what is available for us to use to make a smoldering pit in here? The chairs would be an idea but, it might not be best to break one or two apart incase someone actually owns this Center. Also, I don't see a fireplace or a makeshift pit." Jasmine said.

 

Jovah turned to her, yawning and taking a seat on a display case with a sigh. The wood creaked, but held. "Looks like everything in the corner o'er there's wet. Not good for fire. This place has a basement, but no windows down there. Don't much care for the dark." He turned, motioning towards the wall. "Could burn some a' the, uh. Wall foam. It'd probably smell like death died, though. Either way, we won't be here long. Longer we take, more people get close to the city." He paused. "And, uh. About those drums. If anyone's uncomfortable by 'em, you can go back. We're probably going to run in to the Pack at some point – they only break those out for raids. They won't kill us, but they might rob us and turn us back. If we try to stop 'em, that's when they'll kill us." He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together.

 

(( For the record, you're more than welcome to detail the insides of buildings, but I *might* change the way they look in my next post if I have something planned. Sorry about the length of time between posts; told Lim I'd post before her, but I got caught up in searching for a job (which is looking good). ))

Edited September 19, 2013 by Arctic

[Limitless]

Red smiled slightly, simply a twitch at the corner of her mouth, as they approached the forest of metal skeletons. She had always been fond of them, despite the possiblities of ambushes and traps between cars. There was something almost peaceful about the scene, something of a resignation to the world. The splayed wires waved to her as they were caught by the wind, a small rainbow from an age long-gone. She looked to the corpses, thinking to herself that even the rags that had been left on the bodies could serve a purpose, but made no move to retrieve them. As she walked, her lingering eyes turned colder and sadder, making her seem far beyond her years, as the group passed by the trail of the dead. Red slowed her gait, falling behind the group as she drew from her pocket a wooden box, surprisingly well preserved, and took from it a small, colorful doll of twine and paper no bigger than the last digit of her forefinger. Holding it in one hand, between the first digit of her forefinger and thumb, she murmured what would, to anyone within earshot, sound like a prayer. She paused, stowing the doll back in the box and securing the entire thing back in her pocket, nodding reverently to the dead and moving on.

 

Red glanced at the others, watching as Alice reached into the car and pulled out a mirror. Otherwise, both she and Jasmine seemed to ignore the dead, while Jovah seemed rather disturbed by the bodies. Despite how prevalent religion was in their world of ice and ash, no one but Red had offered any sort of prayer or words to the dead. No respects were paid - but who had time for such anymore? Ruefully, Red decided that it was respecting the dead to leave them with the scraps of clothing still hanging off of them.

 

As they carried on, Red listened to the steady beat of the wars drums, thinking about how drums were made and wondering about variations in the old world, if the process was incredibly different now. Jovah's coughing shook her out of her reverie, and as Alice moved in front of him, she stood nearby as well, looking around for any sign that the coughing had been heard. All seemed well, and the group soon carried on.

 

When they reached the building, Red did indeed stay outside until everyone else was in, watching to make sure no ambush came. She thought about the Blood Pack as she watched the white, bleak landscape, wondering if they would send scouts ahead of them or simply marched together, wholly confident in their strenght. She figured the latter, considering they practically announced themselves anyways. Glancing back, she saw that everyone was inside, and backed towards the door, giving the open area one last sweep before turning and moving inside. She smiled a bit, looking around the room. She listened quietly to what the others were saying, nodding when Jovah made his remark about the Blood Pack. She would stay.

 

Looking around the room, Red decided she would be best served by sitting down at the corner table. Setting her bag down with a sigh, the redheaded woman stretched, scooting the chair out and turning it to face the rest of her companions, bag sitting between her legs. Carefully, she leaned the staff up against the corner before moving the scarf covering her face down somewhat and removing her hood, brushing a few flakes of ash out of her hair.

 

((Edit: Wrote what Red did when she came in.))

Edited September 13, 2013 by Limitless

[Mistress of Whispers]

Satisfied that the immediate area was secure, Alice turned her attention to the stairwell. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened for a while and then eased down the handle. When the handle was fully down, she carefully pressed herself against the door and opened it. Her actions were deliberate and controlled, opening the door in an almost imperceptible move. A cold air rolled from the stairwell beyond, though no howling winds accompanied it; the door above must be blocked or boarded. Leaning around the door, she peered into the darkness and carefully wedged loose the door handle. Removing the handle from the stairwell side, she closed the door again.

Edited September 19, 2013 by Mistress of Whispers

[Arctic]

Beyond the door, the only distinguishable sound was that of muffled gusts. As she opened it, the sound became more pronounced, but was still distant, filtering through the beaten walls and from the boarded up floor above. There was no draft accompanying it, however, though the stairwell certainly wasn't well insulated - it was nearly as cold as it was outside, though without the wind chill.

 

The handle to the door was bolted in place, though the metal of both it and the door itself were rusted and withered. It took some shaking, but eventually the handle came loose, and rather quietly at that, leaving a circular hole with four smaller screw pocks around it. Unfortunately, this seemed to upset the inner workings of the lock. Several small parts came tumbling out, the bolt of the door sliding back in disarray, ensuring that the door would no longer latch properly without some maintenance.

 

Luckily, the door was weighted to fall inward, and as Alice snaked back in to the room, that's what it did; while the bolt of the door no longer latched in to the wall, the door itself held firmly in place in the frame.

 

Jovah simply watched her curiously throughout the endeavor.

[Mistress of Whispers]

Picking screws, bolts and miscellaneous parts off the floor, Alice reached in her bag and retrieved her gun kit. Selecting some small implements, she carefully reconstructed parts of the lock, at one point using a piece of wood to effectively wedge pieces in places, until it was operational from the room again. With that done, she placed the main handle on the room-side and closed the door - while anyone on their side could still open it (with a accompanying good push), anyone coming in from the stairwell would have to find something to operate the tumbler (or use brute force to break the latch).

 

Edited September 19, 2013 by Mistress of Whispers

[Arctic]

As she worked upon the door, the only sound that accompanied her was the distant, varyingly intense and soft wind that flowed over the structure from the outside. The stairwell was still bitterly cold, but still a relief from the chill of the icy, never-ending storm outside. The lock itself was simple enough to repair, though it did take a little time.

 

As she finished fitting the lock in place, a distant, small, muffled light-hearted beeping could be heard over the wind, though only slightly, and only in the stairwell. It was musical in nature, though not in any way people of the Ash were used to, fluctuating up and down in an almost otherworldly fashion. It was nearly inaudible to her. If it hadn't kept going for more than a second, it might be written off entirely as a trick of the wind.

 

At one particular lull of the wind, in which the sound could be heard marginally better, it could be made out coming from the darkness of the basement. It was certainly not audible to any of those in the main room; only Alice.

[Mistress of Whispers]

Stepping back from the door carefully, Alice slid the crossbow off her back and into her hands. She briefly balanced the weapon in her right hand and raised the left in a fist to attract the attention of her companions. Then she tapped her ear with her index finger, once, and pointed to the door, before placing both hands firmly on the weapon and sliding a bolt into place. She did all this without taking her attention from the door, with her back still to the room and people sitting in it - she could only assume that at least one of them had seen her gesture. She strained her ears to pick up the sound again and her posture was cautious rather than alarmed.

Edited September 19, 2013 by Mistress of Whispers

[ValidEmotions]

Laviendor listened to the white-clad man's simple words, smirking at the comment about death having died. Funny how people tended to use exaggerating details when explaining some things like an unpleasant smell. Why this was the case, Levi had yet to figure out an answer. It certainly brought puzzling ideas to his mind, as did any human habits or wonders that could not be easily explained. Moving on...

 

He took note of the other brown-haired woman's movement, turning his gaze to watch her as she tinkered with the door handle. Should he describe her actions as "tinkering?" Again, that puzzling habit of word choice. Hmm... No matter. Levi wasn't the only one watching the woman as the white-clad man kept his eyes on her as well. Apparently, the man was just as curious about her actions as he was. Well, maybe three of them. The petite bard had taken similar notice, her fingers drumming against her knees. Was she nervous or was it to help pass the time?

 

When it became apparent what the woman was doing, Levi quickly raked his fingers through his faintly disheveled hair. "You know how things work. Did you learn on your own or did someone teach you?" Personally, he liked both forms of education, receiving lessons from someone else while also teaching himself how to do something or other. People were cautious, especially those who traveled frequently and their lives depended on how alert they were. He knew her actions arose from that caution - one could never be entirely certain. Yet, he wouldn't say anything of it, just voice his single question and be done with it whether or not the woman chose to answer him.

 

However, he wouldn't get that answer. Instead of turning around and speaking, she prepared her crossbow and signaled to the other four. At this, his emerald green eye narrowed a fraction, hands silently shifting to unsheathe two of his knives. At his feet, Gorf picked up on the tension and quickly lifted his head, attention focused on the woman's back and the door she stood at.

 

Jasmine stilled, her fingers laying against her knees, and held her breath. Why? Shouldn't she grab her crossbow and train it on the door? Briefly, she flicked her gaze away towards the others. She wouldn't move from where she sat at this point, the chair would most likely creak. Alice had heard something too soft for her to catch but, that didn't mean the woman was simply imagining things. In this world, something was less likely to be part of one's imagination and more likely to be a reality. Truthfully, that made the bard fearful and she didn't like to be afraid. She knew, however, that someone couldn't be entirely fearless; there was just no such thing.

 

Scared or not, everyone was stuck in this ash covered world and it was up to them whether or not they would survive. And, damn it, Jasmine planned to stay alive until death claimed her soul only once she was too old and weak to fight it off. Knowing this, determined to keep that desire, was the reason why she disliked being afraid. For her, fear could only be a hinderance but, on a few occasions, it could also provide a unique form of strength. Certainly, she wasn't a top marksman with any type of gun, but her silent fear kept her alert so long as she didn't let it become uncontrolled and turn into paranoia.

 

Now her hands moved, carefully removing her crossbow from the back of her chair and pulling the string back to the latch. She didn't put a bolt in just yet, it was uncertain whether or not she would actually need to. The bard also did not want to accidentally set her weapon off and misfire, lest she possible hurt someone.

[Limitless]

Red watched Alice move towards the door to the stairwell, smiling when she realized what the other woman's plan was. Clever. She snorted softly when Lavender spoke up, shaking her head slightly and looking back towards the front of the building. She didn't want someone to sneak in that way while they were all watching Alice work. Her eyes scanned the door, the half-boarded window, making shapes in the swirling white and grey, listening to the beat of the drums. She thought about darkness, how so many people didn't like it or feared it. Red herself had never been exceptionally bothered by darkness - it certainly wasn't her preference, but she found the darkness to be calming in some situations. Being alone in the darkness made her think about herself, about her place in the world. In the darkness, all alone, she occasionally felt like simply an observer, a wayfaring stranger. Red knew this wasn't so at all, and smiled about it, but still found it a very romantic notion.

 

She blinked, noticing that the room had suddenly gone tense and still. Her eyes scanned the entrances to the room once more, then she shifted softly, one hand moving to pick up her staff, taking reassurance from the hard, chipped wood, and looked over everyone. Alice was still at the door, and all eyes were there. Red tilted her head slightly, listening - partially for whatever Alice had obviously heard, partly for the footsteps of anyone approaching. She heard neither, and let herself relax a mite. Lifting the staff, she held it at a slight incline, across her body, from her hip to where her neck met her shoulder.

 

Red looked over her companions again, only moving her eyes. Alice had not reacted the way everyone else seemed to: while they were extremely tense, she was simply still, listening. She kept still herself, waiting for more indication of what her course of action should be.

[Arctic]

Jovah coughed against a closed fist, bringing his duffelbag around to rest on his lap a moment later, accompanying the movement being with the sound of fabric rubbing and against fabric, that distinctive zip. He checked the bag, ensuring there were no tears, or perhaps no frost damage. Once reasonably sure that his bag was still alright and wasn't going to rip and spill its contents, he turned it over to get access to a buttoned-up side pocket. He worked to free the lip buttons from their slits and, once the pocket was open, drew out an old, wrinkled newspaper, covered in tape to hold it together. He smoothed it out over the surface of the bag, opening it gently to reveal a map booklet within. He didn't seem too concerned about anyone spotting it – maps were valuable, but nothing worth slaughtering over. While in Winterbury, he had had to worry about some sneaky pickpocket plucking the thing away from him, he was outside now, and unless he expected a companion to mug him, it wasn't a thing to be disguised. If he was searched by raiders, it would be found anyway.

 

He seemed to tune the rest of the group out, only giving Alice one fleeting glance as she moved to the stairwell and fiddled with the lock, before he went back to plotting courses (or at least attempting to; the various cave-ins and collapses had vastly rendered most roads and tunnels listed on the map useless or too dangerous to be worthwhile). A few minutes passed, and eventually he noticed a certain tension in the room. He raised his eyes in time to see the female redhead adjust her grip on her staff, see the man and his dog perk up, Jasmine adjusting her crossbow before he finally noticed Alice standing defensively near the stairwell. Was there something? What had she seen? For a split second Jovah opened his mouth to ask, but decided against it and tentatively closed his lips. He simply snaked the strap of his bag over his head, setting it aside and half-raising the rifle. He looked to Alice questioningly, furrowing his brow and giving a small glance to each of the others, seemingly entirely at a loss as to what was going on, and more so at how he had missed it.

 

---

 

As Alice's ears adjusted and strained to pick up the sound, the musical beeping could once more be heard. It was speeding up, growing just a little bit louder, and another layer of sound was being added on to it. The beeping sped up, chirping on higher notes a few times before easing down. Softer notes played over it. It was, by all accounts, a self contained electric symphony, however quiet it might be. Had she heard any old world music before, the sounds would be reminiscent of that, though for anyone unexposed to such treasures, it was simply a vaguely musical series of sounds. What stood out was perhaps twenty seconds into her listening, a definitive male voice spoke up, distorted and grainy; it simply said touch, speaking in tandem with the musical beeping, and then again a matter of seconds later.

 

While all of that was only audible to Alice, the next sound was loud enough for all of those in the lobby to hear; a loud clattering as metal dropped to the floor of the concrete basement below, echoing in to the stairwell and in to the visitor's center.

 

I remember touch, the voice continued, still only audible to Alice, and still only barely. The static surrounding the voice seemed to be more prominent now, though the musical chirps accompanying it were still clear.

 

The sound of metal grinding on concrete (as if being dragged across the rough stone) sounded out, audible to all, drowning out the music for Alice and leaving no doubt that someone or something was in the basement.

Edited September 26, 2013 by Arctic

[Mistress of Whispers]

Alice strained to make out the music. The tones were alien, but also beautiful - she liked music, even if her life had never permitted her to learn to play an instrument or sing. For a moment the world of death and ice was replaced by something else; a wonderful uplifting where neither pain nor memory existed. Then, metal clattered in the basement and Alice started from her reverie. Something slid over the floor and she thought she knew the sound - someone was coming in through the tunnels and entering the building from below.

 

She took a step away from the door to ensure it could swing open (either pulled from this side or forced from the other) without hitting her. Her breathing slowed as her body began to focus and prepare for a possible confrontation - this, at least, was something she was familiar with and could handle.

 

"Fight or run?" she asked her companions in a whisper. It never even occured to her that the intruders could be friendly; they were too far from Winterbury and too close to Blood Raider territory for that. Her voice gave no hint of preference for either option, but she did add "We should not be boxed in." If there were indeed Raiders coming up through the tunnels, they would have to kill the group or retreat and try a different path entirely, rather than risk getting caught between a scouting party and their main forces in the city.

[ValidEmotions]

"Fight or run?"

 

Jasmine jumped faintly when metal clattered from down in the basement, her eyes locked on the door until Alice spoke. The question seemed to create a dilemma. They could run but it would be awhile until they found another decent place to rest. They could also fight but they had no knowledge of what was moving below them. "I think we should run..." Not because she didn't trust her abilities nor doubted anyone else's. She was simply taking caution based on her lack of knowledge.

 

The bard was out of her seat by now but still hovering beside the worn-down piece of furniture. She could snatch up her few things in a moment's notice, muscles tensed and weight off her toes. Her crossbow was held ready, right index lightly laying against the trigger for when (and if) she needed to fire the nocked bolt.

 

Levi was more at ease than the short bard, remaining where he sat with his right arm rested atop the back of his seat and left hand gently pinching two of his knives between his fingers. Alice had backed away from the door, allowing him a better line of sight and shot should anything hostile enter from the basement. "Running may be the wise choice. No idea what's down there. Any of you three have a clue?" Rhetorical. His tone was light, his words mildly playful. No, he didn't take pleasure out of facing possible trouble or life-threatening situations. But he wasn't going to let them make his mood sour. Certainly not!

 

Gorf's hackles had raised, a low growl starting to rise from his chest as the grinding sound of metal against concrete ensued. The canine moved from his position, placing all fours beneath him while holding his head close to the dusty floor. Tail held stiffly behind him, he didn't make any other move without Levi's command.

[Limitless]

Red was silent, eyes focused on the floor between the door and the tile. Fight or flee? She blinked at Lavender's question, refraining from rolling her eyes, and titled her head slightly.

 

Fight or flee? Alice had heard something they hadn't to start with. Red's curiosity was roused, but there was no telling what sort of conditions were in the basement as far as defense and movement went, and that which had made the scraping noise was likely hostile. She eyed the dog with a bit of contempt, hoping the stranger in the basement didn't hear the growl.

 

Finally, she looked up to Alice. "Flee. I'd rather not take foolish chances," she murmured, deciding to ask Alice what exactly it was she'd heard the next chance they got.

[Mistress of Whispers]

"Running may be the wise choice. No idea what's down there. Any of you three have a clue?"

"Music," Alice replied in answer to Laviendor's question. "One voice, male, maybe belong to music." The words came out slowly, deliberately, as she painstakingly put them in the correct order and forced them out of her throat - she could barely hear herself over the howling of the wind outside and hoped the others understood her. She wanted to add more - how fleeing meant they should move *away* from the city so as not to get caught between an advance party and the Blood Pack's main forces - but the idea of saying more than she already had was too daunting. So she remained silent; she could always speak more later if it was necessary (though she hoped it wouldn't be). Meanwhile she strained her ears to pick up more sounds - the telltale shuffling of feet or even (she hoped not) footsteps coming up the stairs.

[Arctic]

"Fight or run?"

 

Jovah wasn't sure what Alice had seen, heard, smelled; it mattered not. Perhaps the situation was a gross overreaction, perhaps she had just heard a rat scurrying across the floor. Perhaps the whipping winds had rattled the foundations to the point where some precariously situated mug had fallen from a table to the floor and given off the impression of some large animal maneuvering around, knocking furniture from place to place. No. These thoughts were dangerous. Jovah heard the scrape of metal on concrete as some object was dragged or pushed across the floor downstairs. It wasn't an animal, it wasn't the wind, it wasn't some ghastly spectre toying with their brains. If he were alone, his course of action would be clear to him, but here he was with a group; four other people. Four. When was the last time he had had a companion, let alone this many? Not since he was a teenager, at the very least.

 

Run, the Bard said.

 

He pulled his tomahawk from his belt, turning it over in his hands and discretely moving around a display case, standing on the side of the counter opposite from the door. The sound was clearer now. It was as if a desk was being pushed across the floor, the metal grinding sound.

 

Flee, the redheaded woman suggested.

 

"Running may be the wise choice. No idea what's down there. Any of you three have a clue?"

 

“Music,” Alice had replied.

 

“One voice, male, maybe belong to music.”

 

Jovah puckered his lips and furrowed his brow, shooting Alice a cautious glance, though he said nothing. He strained his ears, stifling a cough into his jacket sleeve. He thought he could catch a glimpse of some sound other than the grinding of the metal, but he couldn't be sure. He continued to stand near the counter, prepared to duck behind it should need arise.

 

His focus was interrupted by a clatter.

 

----------

 

The metal grinding stopped abruptly and the sound of wood clattering to the echoed out, quickly quieting to nothingness as the reverberations halted. All was silent for a moment. There was suddenly a loud burst of static, then another, muffled from behind the door; the music came back, louder, audible to all, though still only a distant cry from beyond the door. The music leaked out from around the edges of it, spilling in to the lobby of the building. It was only as audible as a whisper, but they now heard what Alice had heard; the musical chirping, the highs and lows as the notes bubbled up and down, and the voice spoke again, once more grainy and echoed in the throes of the music.

 

Touch, it repeated, more whispered, more resigned.

 

Touch, the man spoke, less resigned, back to his regular volume. Though his voice was certainly part of the otherworldly song, he was not singing; simply speaking over the musical beeps and chimes.

 

I remember touch, the voice continued, a small fit of static nearly drowning out the words.

 

Where do I belong? The words were overlayed with a small hiss as a low note rose up to a high one. The music was unlike anything heard in that time and age, only barely recognizable as such. Foreign. Strange.

 

----------

 

Jovah spoke up, voice quiet and cautious. "Voice sounds... distorted. Maybe an old service android trying to clean up down there? Not too sure about the music." The words were hollow, and he seemed to know it. There was no belief behind them. It was simply an attempt to explain the as-of-yet unknown.

Edited October 6, 2013 by Arctic

[Mistress of Whispers]

While Alice had initially been mesmerized by the music, the static and strange, almost detached, voice made her feel uneasy. She had never heard anything like it and struggled to fit it into her frame of reference.

 

"Voice sounds... distorted. Maybe an old service android trying to clean up down there? Not too sure about the music." Jovah offered by way of explanation, but Alice shook her head. She supposed that it could be an 'Android' - which as far as she knew was some sort of self-moving machine from the time of the great cities - but somehow she doubted it. There was an undertone to the old scavenger's voice that implied he doubted it too.

 

She carefully walked backward, keeping her eye and weapon alike on the door, and stepped around the old, dusty counter. She stayed put at the far end, rather than move to Jovah's position, so they could lay down fire from two different angles if need be. The remains of the handle she had tinkered with lay on the counter in front of her, but she never spared it a glance, intent as she was on the door alone.

 

"If we leave, then *now*," she cautioned again at a hoarse whisper, her voice still struggling with the unfamiliarity of pronouncing words.

 

Alice was fine with either fighting or fleeing - she had done both often enough in her life and felt it couldn't possibly be more difficult than this 'talking' business - but the majority of the group had chosen for the latter and she didn't want them to miss their window of opportunity; once the presence downstairs detected them, it would be too late to go anywhere. She raised the crossbow, peering through the cross-hairs and readied to fire. Her breathing slowed as her concentration increased...

Edited October 12, 2013 by Mistress of Whispers

[ValidEmotions]

Music... Jasmine hadn't heard any type of music outside of playing her own flute in some years. It was different and almost nostalgic, listening to the product of someone else's creation. For a moment, she just sat there and enjoyed it, pictures flickering in her mind that were called into form by the bubbly notes. When the voice joined into it, she blinked rapidly for a moment, a bout of confusion playing in her eyes. "It must be an old recording. But, what's moving in the basement? Android's haven't been used in years..." Words she didn't need to utter, spoken in a quiet mumble, as the fact was clearly noted by the two closest to the basement door and possibly by the two who were not.

 

She caught sight of Alice's movement, lifting her crossbow a bit more in preparation. In turn, Jasmine faintly tightened her grip on her own weapon. It vaguely felt like the suspense she would have when listening to the stories her parents would share through word or notes. However, that was different from the suspension she felt now. The feeling she got from her parents' tales was built on anticipation, eagerness to discover what came next. This time, she did not want know. At this moment, her suspension was built on anxiety, nervous and restless wondering about what could possibly await their little group.

 

Whatever could go wrong, will.

 

But the bard needed to relax. Things went astray most when people started to panic. Her mother had never panicked from what Jasmine remembered, keeping a collected demeanor about her and prevailing mentally over whatever she encountered. Perhaps most of it had been a farce and her mother had panicked at times, no one was perfect. But that mattered not. The point still rested and the short bard knew she couldn't let herself panic.

 

So, now, she tensely waited like the rest.

[Arctic]

The music began to dull, static starting to overtake it, when suddenly the wind outside picked up, washing over the building and making the walls creak and groan as they bent to the will of the elements for the umpteenth time. The roar of the gusts drown out any inkling of the musical sounds from below.

 

The room was silent (barring the roar of wind) for several long moments. Jovah stood tense, gripping the carbon tomahawk white-knuckled in his right hand, left resting atop the dusty counter. He seemed entirely prepared to run for the door; it seemed that the only reason at all he was weighing options was because he was with others.

 

"Nah." The utterance was clear. Jovah was no longer statuesque, moving very particularly. He turned on a heel, sidestepping away from the counter, leaving bootprints in the powdered ash covering the tile floor. He paused, looking down and fastening his tomahawk to his beltloop, before wrapping both hands over his rifle and shouldering it, keeping the barrel pointing half down.

 

"We're going. Let's move, come on." His voice was solid, but there was some disquieted undertone – not because he was afraid of what was below, but because it was an entirely new situation to him. He seemed almost ashamed that they weren't already outside, that he hadn't made the decision to leave at the first sound. Questioning these things. Making jabs at explaining things you know nothing about. No good at all.

 

Curiosity killed the cat. Satisfaction brought him back. Better be damn sure you'll be satisfied.

 

He backed in to the push-door, fighting against to wind to get it open. The hinges squeaked, but ultimately the door gave. As it gently lurched its way open, Jovah raised the rifle straight up, then swung it down so the barrel was pointed outward in to the snowy parking lot – he scanned back and forth, then pushed his back against the door, held it open and beckoned to the group to come out, running his tongue over his ashen lips dryly.

 

The cold began to creep in, filling the room with a crisp chill as ash and snow fluttered in. The wind carried with it the same smokey smell as it had as they approached, but it was far more prominent now; the gusts now came from towards the city, though the fog remained, disallowing one from seeing much farther than perhaps thirty meters.

 

(( Not my best writing - I'm feeling ill, but I felt the need to put in a response to move things along. Apologies. ))

Edited October 15, 2013 by Arctic

[Mistress of Whispers]

Alice nodded to indicate that she'd heard Jovah, though she kept her attention (and bow) on the door. She seemed to be the one to have this particular threat covered and she felt somehow obligated to remain doing so until the others were clear of the room. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time she was the 'last one out'. A more philosophical mind might have hoped it wasn't the *last* time either, but Alice rarely thought about the future and it never occurred to her.

 

She was, however, vaguely pleased with the leadership Jovah was showing. So far, everyone had had a chance to speak up and he seemed to have taken their opinions into consideration before taking charge. Although, she thought, it might have been entirely coincidental that his assessment of the situation was the same as the group's. Perhaps next time they'd disagree and he'd show his colours. Regardless, she was ready to follow his lead at this particular time.

 

From the corner of her eye she saw the scavenger turn strangely mechanically on his heels, reminding her somewhat of the trained militias she'd encountered. Did Jovah have a military background? At the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she knew very little about her new companions, though possibly she knew enough. None of them had bolted when the strange sounds started - even though the bard had looked very anxious, she had stayed with them - and no one seemed to be planning to throw the others to the wolves. In Alice's world, that was usually all she needed to know. Nevertheless, the same undefined drive that had pushed her to Winterbury, seeking companionship for the first time since a long time, made her resolve to get to know them better when she had the chance. Later. Once things quieted down. She wasn't sure it was a resolution she would keep.

 

Outside, the wind picked up and drowned out sound and though. Focusing on the stairwell door again, Alice slowly took a few steps backwards to the exit while she waited for the rest of the group to leave.

Edited October 16, 2013 by Mistress of Whispers

[ValidEmotions]

A decision was finally made: they were leaving. Still holding his knife, Levi got up from his seat and idly shifted his rifle into place on his back. Gorf moved when he did, hurrying for the open door where the white-clad man stood, waiting for the others to head out of the building. The canine didn't go far beyond the threshold, paws sinking an inch or two in wind-shifted snow, and shook out his fur. Levi watched the woman focused on the basement door, aware that her actions indicated she was ready to be the last one out. Now, that just wouldn't do.

 

Smiling, he motioned to the center's entrance as he moved into her field of vision. "Now, what sort of character would I be if I let you bring up the rear?" No, he wasn't insulting her nor had the thought of how weak or strong she could be even crossed his mind. All he was implying was that he would follow everyone else out, keeping watch on the basement door while she could relax with knowing her back was covered.

 

That is to say, if she trusted him enough to know he would cover her and the others. Of course, Laviendor was set in his own decisions and still end up at the rear of their group, exiting the building at a sort of angle that would allow him to see the basement door and keep from walking into the doorframe.

 

Jasmine made her way to the door at Jovah's call, fixing her scarf over her mouth and nose against the wind. She had quickly secured her flute on her back with her bag, leaving her hands better able to hold her crossbow. Snow crunched under boot and the roaring wind buffeted her ears as she moved to stand near the German Shepherd; the dog had the same idea about staying out of the way of the door but not traveling far from the group. Now, whether that was because the dog was aware of the possibility of ambush or because he was staying close to Laviendor, she couldn't exactly say. But she figured it was a mixture of both cases.

 

She didn't move further for two reasons: she was aware of the chance of ambushes and she did not know where the closest road to San Francisco lay beneath the white wasteland. She knew general directions, certainly, but as she had never traveled this way before, it may as well be considered foreign land to her. Additionally, though, she wasn't much for leading people and felt better with following Jovah's guidance than trying to indirectly press hers on others. If she were traveling alone, then she could travel her own pace and not have to worry about someone else's. Still, she wasn't against traveling with people so long as the group didn't grow too large.

[Maus]

The War drum beat in the distance, "I must escape, we must escape...never again I won't let them take her..". The world seemed to be against Helmuth, against his goal of freedom. Every turn he took, every step he made, he was at risk. The snow and wind didn't help. The mute's feet became bogged down in the snow. This would not be easy, this would be a true challenge. The weight of Helmuth's clothes and his pack slowed him down. If it wasn't for their value, he would have left it all behind. The pack was filled to the brim with medical equipment and his personal belongings, and Helmuth preferred to keep it that way. They were his belongings, and no pack of wild savages would separate him from them. Below his belt, Helmuth pulled his knife from its place. It was old but strong, and he had relied on it more than once in his life. The cold steel of the trench knife burned against his tattooed palm, a welcome pain at the moment. Helmuth turned the corner and eyed the lot. dead hulks of steel, the vehicles of old. Perhaps safety could be found here. With an open palm raised over his shoulder, the mute signaled to move on. The man knew they were close, his enemies, he must escape, he must find safety.

 

A singular building stood before him, it was old, crumbling, and boarded up. It looked abandoned, perhaps it would constitute a proper hole in which to hide. Through the snow, Helmuth tumbled, rather ungracefully, until he met with a wall. Nearby a window was cracked, the boards guarding it from the outside were old and snapped. He peaked into the hole. There was something, someone, moving around in the room. The wind and snow and ice blowing around his eyes made it impossible to make out details. A vague sense of panic filled Helmuth, they could be Blood pack....they could be the enemy. He signaled over his shoulder again, a closed fist followed by an open palm and a curved hand. He didn't turn around to see if Amber had gotten the message. For him, one of two outcomes stood before him, a fight or quite a bit of running, and Helmuth preferred neither of them. From his pack, Helmuth scavenged out two shells for the shotgun. It was loud, clumsy,unreliable, and old....and he hated it. He hated every aspect of it, especially the fact that he had to use it. Ever. But there were times like today, that he needed the firearm. No matter how many times the knife had saved his life, the shotgun would be more reliable in this situation.

But he was still willing to use the sad excuse of a weapon, if the need be. Slowly but surely, he turned the corner, no door was visible, it must be on the next wall. Helmuth lowered himself, low to the ground, and his white coat made him blend in. From his position, he low-crawled his way to the edge of the corner, and waited. He waited and waited and waited until Helmuth felt that familiar tap on the edge of his boot. "She's ready", he thought, "God hoping that I am" .

 

There was a sound, a door, it opened. The hulk of a man couldn't see around the corner, but he was familiar with the squeak of hinges. Helmuth jumped at the opportunity, the door was opening towards him. Helmuth tumbled from his hiding spot. The combat roll was finished with a quick snap to his feet, putting him a few yards from the group. As loudly as he could, Helmuth pumped the shotgun. This was more of a warning than anything else, he truly hoped for no reason to use the weapon, but if they were Blood Pack....There would be no pause after that familiar clunk of a shell entering the chamber. The barrel was quick, as quick as the hand would allow, it found its first target. The first man to leave the building. Helmuth would shout, but language was no longer his duty in this world. In silence, the man stood, his weapon primed for use.

[XiziX]

Helmuth's companion would slowly pull her gloved hand away from the edge of his boot. The gentle tapping of her frozen fingers had silently spoken her somewhat readiness for what was to come next. Fear pulsed through her veins, tensing her muscles and syncing with her shivering form as the cold ash and snow clawed at the seams of her cloathing. Her goggles began to fog up, making visibility difficult. So with a quick motion, Amber tugged them down around her neck and pulled the white hood of her jacket over her head to camoflage herself from prying eyes.

It was then a sound reached her ears, and Amber's shivering form grew still. The door began to swing open, and that was when everything in Amber's mind seemed to slow down. Whatever her eyes perceived, she felt it was as if it were a dream. The ash and snow falling from the sky fell in slow motion, and Helmuth before her began to move. Her brown eyes watched as the snow and ash cascaded down his dirty white jacket before her. Such a quick reaction to the opening of the door made her heart beat faster, and fear took over her thoughts as they predicted what may happen next, all of which fueled her ever growing anxiety.

She prayed to whatever would listen that nothing bad would come of this situation. That the drums of the Blood Pack were just a distant threat, and that whomever was about to cross their path would be anything but their worst fears.

Even she, a former slave girl, knew silent prayers would do nothing to help them now. So when Helmuth tumbled, stood, and pumped the shotgun, she too moved to follow suit. From behind his form, she looked to the man who had opened the door. Like her companion, he too had a firearm. Unlike herself and Helmuth, he had friends.

This could get bad, very bad. The world once again sped up to real time in her mind. Helmuth had no voice, therefore, Amber stepped out from behind him, showing only half of her form as she called out to them, "Wait!"

Her voice was loud, but not high pitched by any means, but she knew she'd have to say more to help relieve the situation, "You don't...look like the Blood Pack..." Amber spoke hesitantly at first, but kept it up by adding, "We heard the drums earlier... "

To Amber's slight relief, this man didn't seem like he was one of those savages, but there was always a possibility....and there was more than just one person making their way out of the building.

Such an observation only made Amber move closer to Helmuth, her smaller frame almost touching his back as she hid behind her companion. That was what he wanted her to do in these situations.

"We don't want any trouble..." Lifting her hands up in a passive motion to show she herself didn't have a weapon, Amber glanced up towards Helmuth's gas mask. Perhaps he was just as scared as she was now...being around what looked like a group of strangers. Slowly, one of Amber's hands would move to pull the scarf down from around her mouth to show the rest of her face to the others around them. A gesture she hoped would help ease the situation slightly, "Who are you?"

One could not blame Helmuth and Amber's actions. This world was full of threats, so greeting a sudden group of strangers crossing your path at gunpoint was probably a common practice. It was just the pulling of the trigger and asking questions after that Amber feared now. Hopefully this group would realize that they truly didn't want this to end with anyone getting hurt or killed.

Hopefully.

[Mistress of Whispers]

Smiling, Levi motioned to the center's entrance as he moved into Alice's field of vision. "Now, what sort of character would I be if I let you bring up the rear?"

 

Alice raised a single eyebrow, uncertain as she was about Levi's offer or his motives. He didn't seem to be offering insult or planning a betrayal, but in this world it was impossible to be sure. Still, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and, with a curt nod, she began retreating backwards to the door. Her footsteps, barely audible against the stone floor as it was, were masked by the roaring winds outside. Nearing the door, she cast one last glance at Levi guarding the stairwell and then turned to look over her shoulder at the door leading outside.

 

Jovah and Jasmine were already outside, with the group leader holding the door open and snow and cold drifting inside. Alice was about to join them, when she heard the unmistakable click-clack of a weapon being loaded. Without missing a beat, she sidestepped and moved into cover behind the doorpost. She made a soft sound to alert Levi and Red, who were still in the building with her, then crept towards the window. Boarded up with thick, criss-crossing planks, Alice nonetheless found a small creak that allowed her to see through and what she saw, nearly stopped her in her tracks.

 

Outside stood possible the largest man she had ever seen; looking quite menacing brandishing a scrap shotgun. His face was hidden behind a gas mask, which gave Alice pause - was this part of an intimidation tactic, or was the shotgun loaded with gas shells? Before she could give it more thought, though, a second stranger - a petite woman - spoke up.

"Wait! You don't...look like the Blood Pack..." the woman spoke hesitantly, but continued nonetheless "We heard the drums earlier... We don't want any trouble... "Who are you?"

 

By the time she finished speaking, the woman had pulled her scarf down to reveal a scarred face. She has also raised her hands to show that she was unarmed, but Alice didn't fail to notice that the large man made no such conciliatory gesture. Briefly looking over her shoulder to Red and Levi, who were still in the building with her, Alice held up a hand with two fingers, paused briefly, then held up a single finger before mimicking loading a shotgun, paused again, held up a single finger and holding up an empty hand.

 

Hoping that the other two understood her, Alice crept towards the next window - perhaps she'd find an opening between the boards that was large enough to fire a crossbow bolt through. In her mind, there was no doubt that the scarred woman's peaceful overture must be false - the newcomers' arrival coincided far too perfectly with the potential thread coming up from the basement. She would hold off on firing until Levi and Jasmine had a chance to respond and hopefully find cover, since they were in direct line of fire from the masked man, but she wanted to have a shot lined up when the time came. Outside, snow continued to fall...

[Arctic]

As the door opened, the first thing out was the barrel of a rifle, covered with white masking tape, scanning the parking lot outside, the roadway and the hills nearby; the owner of the weapon, however, did not think of looking around the door. Unknown to most, this error was brought about by habit; it tended to be more lucrative for a would-be bandit in wait to position themselves across from a doorway. Any unwary scavenger would be a prime target as they came out, and they would have already done the work of picking the building clean. Few thought to hide behind where the door itself opened, as it was rare for any sort of commercial, governmental or bureaucratic building to be equipped with anything but broad windows, lending to the potential of being noticed if you got too close. The Sweeney Ridge Visitor Center was indeed governmental, but it had none of the sleek architecture of such structures commonly found in the city.

 

Jovah tended to move left to right when he scanned. His rifle hadn’t been trained on Helmuth when he rolled in to view, but just as the man racked the shotgun and raised it up to aim at Jovah, so too did Jovah train his rifle on the man, tensing his posture and snaking his finger over the trigger, turning his back entirely to the group behind him. Jasmine stood near him, just outside the door. Jovah’s first instinct was not to fire (if either man fired, the other would surely do the same, dooming them both), but to move away from the door, letting it close behind him, leaving the group disguised and hopefully unnoticed inside (with the exception of he and Jasmine, who stood near the door, unless she have moved in the fray). Of course, he kept the rifle trained on Helmuth, and said nothing to him, following the man’s own conversational habits. Jovah’s brow was furrowed, eyes concentrated, hand tense, and lips turned downward into a frown.

 

He had rarely seen men in such attire as his. The gas mask was surely the most interesting thing (aside from the shotgun, which – while not exactly being exceptionally well crafted – was likely pump-action or semiautomatic, which was unfortunate for he and his friends). It was likely an intimidation tactic, or a paranoid’s man attempt to keep ash from kissing at his lungs. Or perhaps the man was infamous and wished to hide his face. Unimportant thoughts, Jovah told himself, and brushed them to the side for the moment.

 

It was a tense moment, worsened by the distant thump of the Blood Pack’s drums, which almost seemed to beat with one’s own heart. And then Jovah noticed the woman move behind the large man, and step out somewhat a moment later.

 

"Wait!" The woman’s voice spoke up, piercing the tension in the air. Jovah kept the rifle trained on the more imminent threat, offering the woman only a brief flicker of his eyes. He adjusted his stance, though the prospect of two armed strangers seemed to set him on edge, as his body tensed up. He fought to keep the rifle steady, and seemingly did a good job at it – it hardly wavered, remaining at point at Helmuth’s chest. A man couldn’t help but be afraid when faced with potential demise, and the extra adrenaline did little to help him fight through anything but pain and a good, long sprint.

 

"You don't... look like the Blood Pack... We heard the drums earlier... ” The woman said. She almost imperceptibly moved closer to the large man. Jovah opened his mouth slightly to speak, pausing to choose his words carefully, but the woman spoke before him. "We don't want any trouble..."

 

Jovah adjusted his shoulders slightly, giving a slight smile and exhale, almost a chuckle, of disbelief.

 

"Who are you?"

 

Jovah spoke very clearly, his voice far louder than his companions would be used to; normally a quiet man, it was as if he had flipped a switch to be more direct, more emphasizing and more gruff. Certainly a trait brought about by extensive dealings with other scavengers in his life.

 

”Not Pack.” He inhaled, then slowly exhaled, speaking as he did. “But until Goliath there points that away from me, an enemy.” He continued to stare at the large man.

Edited November 2, 2013 by Arctic

[Limitless]

As the group cast their lots in for leaving, Red listened, thinking about the music and the grinding sound. It had sounded like metal on concrete, but could perhaps also have been the sound of a blade being sharpened. What truly sentient being would sharpen a blade that way, though, was beyond her. Touch, she thought. Touch. And the sounds, the music, a piece undoubtedly pre-war in nature; otherworldly and synthesized, seeming to be both melancholy and bubbly at the same time. She smiled, turning to follow Jasmine, too lost in thoughts of the music to roll her eyes at what she believed to be Lavender's mock-chivalry.

 

Touch. Touch. What did it mean? No, she mused, grinning. Where do I belong? Then there was the topic of the supposed android. Red had heard of androids, but had never actually encountered a live one. Dead, metallic husks resting in corners, splayed out and rusted were all she had found. And aside from that, they were described as distinctly inhuman; why would one want to listen to music? Would they even have appreciation for such a thing? And, beyond that, this place had been thoroughly cleaned out by one group or another. If here had been a working android, even a service one, someone would have found it. Furthermore, unless it was damaged, it shouldn't have made those strange sounds, the scraping that followed the music. She highly doubted that it was an android. Stepping lightly into the snow that had blown across the threshold of the door, Red removed herself from such thoughts, watching Jovah scan the parking lot. She adjusted her hat ever so slightly and paused, listening for any foreign sound amongst the roar of the wind when suddenly, a whirl of motion appeared, mostly obscured by Jovah. Without a second of hesitation, she jumped back, crouching behind the wall, just inside the door, near where Alice was stationed, giving a small wince as she settled down on her left knee. Her heart was racing. What was this? Had a Blood Pack scouting party found them? Red felt almost reassured when Jovah let the door close, hiding the rest of the party, but she worried about he and Jasmine being out there by themselves. She carefully shifted her staff horizontally and lowered it to the ground, setting it down as slowly as possible as not to create any noise. She caught Alice's hand signs as she shifted her rifle over her shoulder and moved it into a firing position. Two people, one armed. She hoped she had gathered that right.

 

Thinking a bit more, she exhaled, quickly and quietly switching the rifle for the staff. If the strangers were hostile, she would have no choice but to kill them. Neither of her weapons were ideal for such close quarters, but with her staff, Red could knock the first to enter off their feet and let Alice or Lavender deal with them while she incapacitated and killed the other. Two people. She only heard one voice, beseeching them to wait, then Jovah's reply. She felt a small smirk tug at the corner of her lips. Goliath, indeed.