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[Intro Log #01] Enjoy your new vacation home
| INTRO LOG #01 |
The Crash  You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash. You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable. Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go. With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry. [Mod Note: In case you missed the testdrive, this is your chance to play out your arrival or any other intro CR] Traversing the Forest  Hopefully you took the time to set up your small ear piece. Once inserted into the ear, the device will prompt you for your name. Once spoken, the device in your ear will be given its own address and all someone has to do is tap the button on their ear piece, speak "private to" then their friend's name, and it will open a private channel to the comm device coded with that name. Open radio signals can be sent by simply tapping the button and speaking. Once you reach the city gates, you will find a mass of corpses piled against the closed gates. These corpses will stir when they catch the scent of the survivors or hear their approach. You may want to take care of the dormant infected before they fully regain awareness. Or, you know, trip the closest person to you and run like hell. Maybe they'll be too distracted chewing on your former friend to follow... Once inside the city, you'll meet its only surviving occupant. He's a bit unique and a bit... well... he's unique. ⨷ TK Baha's Warm Welcome  ⨷[TALK] "Smells like livin' folk. Yer just lucky I got no munitions left." "Naw, ain't seen nothin' worth shootin' in a long time. Heehee! Ohhh-hoo boy, you lot've seen better days. Well, come on over here and git that gate shut before somethin' with an appetite thinks we're open for business." TK smiled and laughed again, beckoning the shipwrecked survivors to come closer. "Let's see. First things first, you lot gotta have somewhere to stay. Hotel's open an' prices 're cheaper than ever! Forgive the staff, they ain't too lively, though if you know what I mean. Heeheehee! You get it, right? 'cause they're all dead. Make yerselves at home. You're gonna be here a while." TK pulls out an old, worn, folded pamphlet and holds it out. There are plenty to go around. "This here's a tourist's guide ta everythin' ya need to know. Or, well, kinda some of it. Anyway, it's useful. Take it. The name's TK Baha and I been around these parts a while. Anything you need, you let me know, okay?" "You got a good set a' legs, right? See, I gotta ask you a favour. I ain't been keeping up with things. Gonna need you to find me a power cell for this here transceiver. Think I stashed the last one at the hotel reception desk. Or was it the minimart? The fuel station? Anyway, you get me that and I'll get this here piece of scrap workin' again." |
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no subject
There's nothing wrong with you.
[ Because that's what he thinks that Dean is saying, not that he's suspicious of all the strangers. But then, maybe Dean is just worried that Purgatory has changed him, and he's likely to stab all the people as much as look at them. Also possible, right?
Still, they have other things to worry about, as he said, like coming upon another clearing with a dozen apparently dead bodies laying in it. ]
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[ It's not like Dean would ever flippantly talk about how screwed up he is, oh no. Dean would never say speak of anything like that. Which isn't even remotely true but Dean would like to believe it is if only so he doesn't have to face his own self-deprecation. But he was the one who didn't want to talk about this, didn't want to face the things Castiel was trying to chat about like they were no big deal. Because they were a very big deal to Dean who was more than willing to ignore it all in favor of blissfully fighting his way through this new fangled Purgatory.
Which is why he's weirdly thankful - in a way that only reminds him of his own damn guilt - for the sprawling sight laid out before them. ]
We're not getting outta this one quite so easy, are we.
[ Dean spoke in truly hushed tones, breathing low, shooting a look to Cas that sang of past experiences. They might not've dealt with something like this before, but they'd been through enough fights together at this point that all it took was an extra look. ]
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He takes a careful step back. ]
We should go around, [ He says, even though he knows that Dean isn't prepared to walk away from this. They've already been cut off once. ]
But if we must fight--
[ They'd switch the weapon in battle, to whomsoever of the two of them needed it most at the time. ]
--Don't get bitten.
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[ Dean may lift an eyebrow in response, tone almost playful, but his attention isn't really on Cas. It's splintered but close to fully focused on the zombies. Because Dean is good at this. Ignoring all the rest and centering himself on a fight. And while he's good, he's not that good, not helped by the fact that he isn't even remotely prepared for this. Cas is the one with the blade and at the end of the day, it's his to use. Dean isn't prepared to toss the thing back and forth - though he'll do it - wishing he had something of his own.
Doesn't mean he won't figure it out.
He does know in equal measure that they should just go around. Move quickly, not make a racket, do something to get out of the way of the oncoming hoard. It'd be smarter (an understatement) and infinitely safer. But if this doesn't feel like a fight coming round the bend then he doesn't know what does, and he's just too much of a sucker when it comes to punching a monster in the face. And the fact that he's standing his ground is saying something, gaze darkening while he stares down the ones that are finally getting up the slow-dragging speed to move closer. ]
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He moves forward before the nearest creature can pull itself upward, and puts the blade through it's head, jamming home despite the unfortunate sound it makes. Flicking the blood off the blade and checking Dean, he balances his grip before lightly throwing the angel blade across to him. Dean does killing monsters better than Cas, and, after all, he isn't unarmed even when he's unarmed. He steps in backward to guard Dean's flank. ]
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Spinning it in his palm, Dean's gaze narrows, darkens, as he brings it sideways and takes a number of steps forward, only to crack the blade near hilt tilt into the neck of an encroaching zombie. With a significant rip, he takes the head clean off, letting it tumble off sight out of the clearing before Dean can focus on the next.
So maybe he missed this. Sue him. ]
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Castiel burns off the face of a second one, and it falls as a third launches itself at him. Grabbing it by its mashed, gnashing jaw, he wheels clumsily around, almost presenting the creature out toward Dean, needing him to strike the killing below. It may be exciting to him, getting back into what Purgatory is all about, but the killing doesn't settle well with Castiel. He doesn't enjoy it. ]
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Not even halfway keeping an eye on Cas, Dean is fighting his own battles. Clipping one zombie on the chin, knocking it back a few paces, the next one gets nailed through the drooping eye socket, before Dean turns to find himself face to face with one that Cas has in his grasp. Clenching his own jaw, he impales it straight away, swinging the blade until it's buried hilt deep in the zombie's skull. ]
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It's a waste. A waste of life, a waste of a death. How many of these things are out there, if they've come across so many already?
He sidestepped around the corpse, wiping his hands off on his coat. He'd smell of rotting death if he kept this up--which was about when the one Dean had made stumble came weaving toward him. ]
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[ Dean is fully oblivious to Cas' feelings on the matter, instead turning to face what he believes is an oncoming hoard. He's expecting more to pop out of the bushes, a flock to appear, monsters running towards them dragging the weight of their dead bodies. He's primed and ready to go and ignoring the misery pounding down on his head. Because it's easier to fight than it is to think and so he's here, only here, nowhere else.
All he wants is for the fight to go on until there's nothing left. Let him return to the murky shadows of warfare for a few more seconds, but there isn't a horde, and there isn't anything but the fallen bodies, the creak of the forest surround. ]
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That's all of them, now. We should push ahead, while it seems clear.
[ And the farmhouse isn't far now. It'll be a good place to rest, catch their own breath. ]
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[ Ducking his head and carrying on, Dean started back up on his path, leading the way without truly intending to. He wasn't even sure what direction he was supposed to be going in, but walking seemed to be the best option, carefully stepping over whatever scrub he could, trying to keep from brushing up against plant life and overall storming along until the farmhouse came into sight. ]
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So this was not his strong suit. He crunched things, and he swished things, and really what he needed most was a crash course in being subtle.
But here the farmhouse came now, and he reached up to touch Dean's shoulder. ]
There's bodies around the door. They seem restless.
no subject
Really, dude, hush up. Really.
Except by the time he was annoyed enough about the whole thing, they were coming up on the farmhouse and he slowed to a halt, turning halfway to face Cas with the hand on his shoulder. ]
Cas, I think they're always gonna be restless.