oasislogs | [Intro Log #2] Whoops...

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[Intro Log #2] Whoops...

INTRO LOG #02

Shipwrecked

Around midnight the sky lights up in fire with the entry of a new dropship. Somehow, the second ship to come from the sky crashes even worse than the first, killing over half the crew when lands on its front, crushing in on itself like a tin can; clearly it was not meant to land like that. The few survivors will be thankful for their secure belts, keeping them in their seats otherwise they'll faceplant into the remains of what seemed to be the crew and the front of the ship. Good luck getting out of that without falling on your face...

The backpacks that were stuffed securely under their seats came loose falling forward. There are backpacks strewn throughout the ship though, most are crushed with the deceased crew that had taken up the front of the ship. Scavenging supplies is definitely still a thing though, jugs of water, bags of trail mix and backpacks are strewn all over the place, some easier to get to than others.

This time there is no warnings or lights or even static to awaken those on the ship, which probably isn't a good sign for anyone looking to cannibalise the ship for parts. The surviors are few but the supplies were for many more. Clearly, whoever sent them down didn't intend for so many people to die in the crash.

It's probably not the landing anyone was hoping for, but at least not everyone's dead... right?

The Infected

What might awaken the passengers on the ship is the pounding, incessant and loud. At first it sounds like a pair of fists against the metal outside of the ship, but quickly another pair of fists join it. Then another. And another. This continues until there are too many too count. The infected are hungry and they know there are living inside. Luckily, they don't seem to know how to get inside, so for now, the survivors are safe, that is if the ship doesn't catch fire or explode.

It's not just normal infected but it's the quick moving ones as well, the ones that have no issue climbing on top of the ship and pounding at it until whoever is inside is awake. They don't seem to care that the metal won't give because they just keep pounding at it, in some futile effort to get inside. Occasionally an infected will let out a screech that sounds almost inhuman in nature but gets the point across: it's frustrated by the metal separating it from the meal it could be having.

Anyone who comes onto the ship will be attacked by the horde that's collected around the ship trying to get themselves an easy meal. Their pounding only draws more infected to them with the sound, not that the crash didn't do that well enough. The only safety the passengers have are the safely sealed doors... The question is, do you wait it out or try to get the doors open and make a run for it?

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[When they finally make it out of the ship, Minho feels surprisingly relieved despite the Cranks and unfamiliar landscape. But this is what he's good at, and he wields his large knife and makeshift machete with the intention of taking out as many Cranks as he has in order to survive. He sticks with the others from the ship, half because he can't watch his own back and also because it's clear they can fight.

As he hacks and pushes through towards the treeline, he starts to notice that there are two types of Crank: The fast ones, the ones that tear after him with a tenacity and can only be stopped with a blow to the head of by chopping off a leg; and the slower ones that amble in from trees or are slow to turn around from the ship.

He doesn't have much time to process this when someone comes hacking through the crowd in front of him, and he's instantly on defense in case it's a Crank with a weapon. Or someone who's not a Crank looking to cut him down as a distraction.]

Wildcard
[Choose your own adventure! This is a good one for inside the dropship or after everyone gets to safety.]

[ when daryl asked is newt was the only other person in his group, it was with a kind of sadness that he'd told him yes. he's gotten newt back, but he's lost everyone else, and he still has no idea where brenda or minho went. if they made it safely through to the other side. either way, he wasn't expecting to see them again. not here.

so when the propane bomb they'd tossed goes off, and they start fighting off what's left of the horde, thomas isn't looking at the drop ship when the door opens. it's not until later, when he spots a familiar puff of dark hair, attached to someone aggressively wielding a machete, that he finally sees him. and nearly gets his throat clawed out for stopping and staring in the middle of a battlefield. ] Shit--

[ okay, duck that, take the zombie's legs out, and then back to peering around through the crowd for a teenager with offensive hair and really big arms. Oh. there he is. ]

Minho! Minho! [ as thomas ducks and weaves and near on parkours his way through both comrades and zombies, he's still shouting for him the entire way, up until he dives past gamora (he thinks it's gamora, there was a lot of green), and near on tackles his friend. ] Dude!

[ he's so stupid happy to see you, it's embarrassing. someone tell thomas this is not the time for reunion hugs. ]

Edited 2016-02-29 10:47 (UTC)

[At first he doesn't hear it—it's hard to try and focus on something he's not expecting to hear when there are Cranks attacking and moaning and shrieking as his blade lands blow after blow. But as it gets louder, he tunes and and realizes someone is calling his name. Someone familiar. Thomas is damn lucky that Minho recognizes him before trying to cut his head off his shoulders like he does the Crank that follows up behind him.]

Thomas! You ugly shank, I knew you had to be here somewhere!

[He's grinning through the blood spatter on his face, the diseased color abnormally dark even against his tanned skin.]

Where's Newt? He here too?

[ thanks for not decapitating him, buddy, you're a pal. the reunion hug is short lived, as they haven't cleared the area, and when thomas looks over Minho's shoulder, there's another couple charging towards them. releasing him, Thomas ducks under one of Minho's ~~huge~~ arms, popping up in time to plant a foot in the chest of the oncoming zombie, and sends it toppling back against the one behind it. ]

Thanks. I try to be ugly enough it's memorable. Since we tend to have problems with that.

[ said with a grin, which probably looks kind of weird as he takes his makeshift machete to the two zombies knocked down, hacking their heads off. ]

Yeah, he's-- [ there's something up with Newt. Right now isn't the best time to talk about it. ] I'll tell you everything once these shanks get the hint we don't wanna play, ok? They're not cranks - you gotta go for the heads.

When you'd get so funny, Thomas?

[He doesn't have time to reply about memories, knowing what Thomas is getting at and focusing instead on what's going around them. And instead of showing his confusion about these things not being Cranks, he takes the advice and sinks his machete into the head of one that comes running up. He turns, keeping Thomas at his back to cover him as he struggles a moment before ripping the blade free.]

Not Cranks? [Well, if Thomas insists then he isn't going to hide the fact that he fights with a less restrained brutality since these things are monsters, not people.]

[The rescue of the three survivors could have gone a lot better. Happening in the middle of the night hadn't done much to help anyone. But everyone that had gone out seemed to have survived as far as Daryl was aware. He'd be taking a head count as soon as he realistically could. In the meantime, he had some newcomers to talk to.

Daryl had noticed Thomas reacting to the new kid like he was some long-lost friend. So he figured the kid was probably going to be one of his by the end of the week if not sooner. Might as well get it sorted and out of the way.

He walked up to the kid and nodded at him.]

You with Thomas, then?

[This is familiar in an unsettling way—the walls to keep them safe from whatever monsters lurk outside. It's not the same as the Glade, though, because there's a bigger variety of people and everyone's got their memories as far as he can tell. He's just thankful this isn't another lawless, barren wasteland like the Scorch.

He's bone-tired after the skirmish, and he wants to catch up with Thomas and find Newt, but he's stopped by one of the rescue party he'd recognized earlier outside the walls. Nodding back, he takes out a rag from his backpack and starts cleaning his knife. It's a good excuse to keep it handy, because sorry but he doesn't trust adults. Not even ones pretending to save him.]

Yeah, we go back. What about you? How'd you get here?

Same as everyone else. One of them ships.

[Daryl jerked his head to one side, out of habit, toward the gates and the forest beyond.

After a second he sucked in a breath and crossed his arms, fingers curling into the armholes of his vest.]

Thomas and Newt. They're with me. If you're with them, then you're with me, too. Thomas made the arrangements a while ago.

[I.e. a couple weeks ago.]

I need to know what you can do.

[He gets the idea, that people have been showing up the same way. Sounds familiar, except the subject pool is much wider than back in the Maze. Here he's seen both men and women, not to mention plenty of people who were older than anyone ever stuck in a maze as far as he knows.

Raising an eyebrow, Minho adopts a similar stance of hands gripping either arm strap of the leather harness he wears over his shirt. It's comfortable, since he's far from intimidated, but it also puts his hands closer to the knife on his back. He doesn't know what kind of arrangements this guy is talking about, but Gladers didn't trust adults easily.]

Listen, gramps, I'm with them and that's the only alliance I care about. I need to check with Thomas about whatever these "arrangements" are. [He says the word with a healthy dose of cynicism to make it clear he's not about to trust the first person who comes to save him—he's been burned by that ploy before.]

[Gramps? He wasn't that old. Son of a bitch, the kid was going to be worse than Thomas wasn't he?

His jaw tightened a bit, but he wasn't trying to be intimidating or wanting to scare the kid. Just wanted to get the ground rules out of the way and done with.]

uh huh.

[It was said with a popping sound as he nodded slowly. Then he turned pointed toward the hotel, who's eight stories could be seen above most of the city and from most points in the city.]

That's the hotel. Thomas and Newt stay there. A few of the others in the group do, too. Newt's starting a garden and the guy, Castiel. He's got himself some bees up there you don't want to mess with.

[Then he turned south and gestured in that direction.]

Rest of us stay in a warehouse thattaway. Thomas or Newt can show you where if you care. Once you check in with him, figure out if you want to learn to track and hunt. If you do, you start lessons with me as soon you're able.

[After a moment:]

The name's Daryl.

[Hey, try not to take it personally; Minho insults everyone. His eyes flicked to Daryl's jaw, catching the irritated little tick but remaining expressionless. He doesn't want to piss the guy off, but he's not going to blindly sign up to play his game.

He does, however, smile a little at the news that Newt is starting a garden. The guy had a talent for keeping things alive and thriving. The rest of the information is cataloged and stored for later when he can take a run through the area and map it out for himself. He can't stop himself from snorting a little about lessons, though.]

Minho. What kind of tracking are you talking?

Start with rabbits and other small game. Move up to something larger. Walkers and people as we come across it. Newt asked me to teach Thomas, so I'm teaching both as they're up for it.

[Which is why he's extending the offer to Minho. If they're in a crew together, their skills probably overlap a lot and their experience and knowledge, from what he'd been told of the Gladers, was relatively limited.]

Someone needs to look after those stubborn shanks. [Thomas was bad enough, but he had a feeling Newt would push himself too hard if left unchecked. Hesitating a moment, he sighs.] Looks like you'll be teaching three-on-one.

[He has to admit that it sounds like a useful skill. There's a difference between memorizing route by geographical markers and following prey that thinks organically. Nodding slowly, he extends a hand. He's a brat, but he's a brat that knows the importance of working together in situations like this. And he isn't going to just pass up the opportunity to learn a new skill.]

[Daryl shook his head.]

Nah. That many people make too much noise. It's one-on-one until I know you can keep quiet.

[He extended his hand as well. Not taking Minho's since he'd just altered the deal the other man was willing to shake on. If Minho was good with it, then he could still take Daryl's hand for a moment.]

[He pulled his hand back at that, grimacing at the thought of them splitting up for this. But if Thomas had agreed to it, he has to trust his judgement. Even if his friend is an idiot sometimes.

Still, he lets his hand drop as he returns to the choice to talk to his friends before agreeing to anything.] I'll take it up with them.

[Daryl pulled his hand back and inclined his head.]

You do that. Let me know.

[He stood there for a minute before turning around and walking away. They might be inside the walls, but Daryl still felt the need to check up on the rest of his people. Again.]

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[Intro Log #2] Whoops...

Minho | The Maze Runner (for Thomas but others welcome!)

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Wildcard - Inside the Walls

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