oasislogs | [Intro Log #01] Enjoy your new vacation home

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[Intro Log #01] Enjoy your new vacation home

INTRO LOG #01

The Crash

"-̭̫̜̩̪̑̈́̓̌̐-̞͓̘̩͖̿́͒͑͘░͙͈̥̦̼̌̊̒̾̅░̨̢̠͙̖̉͊̽͌͝░̫͔͎̤̘̀̑͋͛̾ȩ̨̬̙͛̐̋̀̕͜m̻̬͈̠͒̌͌̍͌͜ ̡̲͈̙̼̽̾͆̊̃f̖̟͉̲̪̈́̾̀̂̀ą̢̯̘̙́̇͑̈̋i̪̱̙̘̟͌́̄̊͘ļ̢̛̲͕̣͐̎̿͛u͕̣̥̘̳̓̃͗͠͝r͉̠̗͖̰̉̅͗̚͘ę̛̺̥̝̘̄͑̌̈́.̣̫͕̰̭̓͂̈́̓͊ ̟̗͔̟͋̿̒̚̚ͅA̠̫̬̼̣̒̇͛́̊l̫̬͎̤͈͑̀͂̐̆ë̡̧̝̺͖́̍̂͂͝r͙͍̱̫͕̆͊̾͐̕ţ͙̻̣̝͒́̄̈́͆!͕̫͓͉̹̌̍̽̂̓ ̧̛̲͎͖̳̌̆̾̏░͖̲̞̼̹̇̄̌̈́̊░̡͍͎͍̘̇̈́̕͝░̪͚̼̦̃̋͊̆͜͠è̛̞̬͙̠̖̊͌̂m͖̝̟̗̣̽̄̐̚͠ ̛̹̯͈̮̼̈́͊͌͠f̧̰̖͋̊̈̊̑͜͜ą̨͚͎̹̀̎̑͋́i̞̬͓̭̳̎́̓͘͠l̢͈̲͇͕̈́̆̐̌̈́ư̰̞͚̻̺̔͑̓̑ṛ͎̯͚̇̔̾̔̏͜ę̛̻̼̭͊͆̕͜͝.̯̖̫̣͔̔̋̔̽͠ ̺̼̟̲͌́͒̔̅ͅĄ̹̝̖̺̂̇̽̒͊ĺ̛̺̰̰̤͎̾͗͝e̛̗̭̻͕̹̓̔͆̆r̢̛͙͖̘̻̈̚̚͘t̰̲̠̖̻̉͂̆̓̇!̬̞̟͉̺̂͆̊͑͐"

You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything...

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.

"W̞͓̝͓̓̀̍̒͘͜ȃ̢̗̪̤͇̔̃̚͝░̟͙̯̳̱̈͂̈́̈́͠n̬̘̬̤̠͛̅̈́͋͝i͓̟͈͎͙̐̆̈́̔̓n̡̟̤̟̤̑͐͋͐̚g̩̱͖͉̻͌͛̈͆̈́!̧̪̰͇̦̓̂̆̌͝ ̢͔̣̠̗̾̉́̌̒C̢̥̟͍͊͊͑̀̚ͅr̛͙̪̙̟͐̽̓̅͜i̫͖̻̣̘̽̑͂̾̎t̩͇̦̬̞͊̌̑̈́͝i̡̳̠̞̐̿̍̎̀͜c̡͕͙͕͕̓̊̌̾͘å̼̯͍̙̲̍̏̚͝l̢̥͉̮̙̋̆͐̆́ ̢̰̞͕̯̋̈́̈́̋͌f͇͔̟̻̈̽͌̒̉ͅa̳̰̠͉͔͒̑̈̈͘i̟̭̦̺͎̍̾̽̈́̐░͕̣̥̭͛̿̓̽̐ͅ░̰̪̠͇͍̆͛̀͝͝░̘̱̩̳̘͆̈́̆̀̚e̛̻͈̳̳̺̊̔̚̕.͙̟̳̼̾̀̅͊͊ͅ"

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

Between the crash and the ruined city is a lush forest full of skittish wild life, the ruins of a farmhouse-like structure, various flora, and the occasional body. Try not to get too close to those bodies, kids. They have a tendency to wake up and try to get ya. The closer to the city one gets, the more frequently they'll see a dormant body.

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."

Sitting on a porch with a shotgun balanced in his lap was a scarred gentleman wearing dark goggle-like glasses. He was missing a leg and looked a little worse for the wear. His voice was thick with a drawl, but he seemed to be well and alive. He chuckled and lowered the shotgun back to his lap, patting the barrel.

"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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Oh good, running. Well, it's fortunate he hasn't forgotten how to do that, and so as he's pushed, Castiel calculates a direction and breaks off into a jog, sparing just a glance back toward Dean as they weave between trees. There are other bodies, and they begin to stir from the commotion around them as they pass, just a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye...which suggests that running through this minefield isn't the best of choices.

The moment they stumble into a clearing, Castiel stops and whirls around, ready to stand his ground. Reaching into his bedraggled sleeve, he draws his angel blade out of concealment, the silvery hue catching the greenness of the light refracted through the leafy canopy, listening acutely for movement from behind the crashing that was Dean.

Just like back in purgatory--he may not want to fight, but he almost certainly has to. ]

[ Some part of Dean's brain should have assumed that running was a no go, but at the same time he could only hope that this zombie was a straggler. One of those undead that got separated from the pack and was idiotic enough to end up wandering the dregs of a forest, hoping to find a wayward deer just slow enough to be eaten whole. He'd never understood that in movies, as if woodland creatures weren't fast enough to escape the wrath of a sluggish zombie.

-- Anyway.

Dean can't help but get into a grappling match with the thing, like trying to punch a shark in the nose. It's the only defense he has for the time being, the edge of his elbow catching the undead in the jaw until he can make a literal break for it, boots digging into the soil as he finally pushes off and heads in the direction Cas had left. Frustration is still catching under his breath as he shoves his way through the scrub, fighting to find the vestiges of the angel.

For a second he almost shouts but that's maybe not the best idea when he doesn't know what else is around - instead, he makes just enough noise to be heard. Except the undead are equally as noisy, breaking through the trees just as Dean comes up on Cas, the angel having managed to find their way into a clearing. ]

So I take it this isn't gonna be a two on one kinda thing.

[ This blade is a part of him--not like he came here with pockets full of extras, not after Purgatory. But he gives Dean a cautious look, indicating that he should move behind him. Whether he cares for it or not, they've perfected this, fighting for their lives, and Dean has already demonstrated clearly that he's unarmed. He wouldn't have hesitated to behead that thing otherwise.

With his free hand, Castiel pulls the small survival bag from his back and throws it to the ground at Dean's feet. ]

Perhaps there's something in there.

[ And with that his attention snaps back to the forest, the lurching and crashing, the cracking of twigs as sluggish creatures tear themselves forward one step at a time, snagging themselves on the underbrush. ]

They're coming.

[ As petulant as Dean wants to be about getting stuffed in behind Castiel protectively, he doesn't question it, either. There's no time to be whiny when their lives are on the line and Dean's not entirely unused to one of them taking the lead over the other.

There are sacrifices in war, and on occasion one of them has been his pride, so Dean steps in behind Castiel as if he's done it a million times before, glancing around them both to keep watch from the rest of the angles. A plan that sort of falls apart the second Castiel flings his bag on the ground, an offering for Dean to find something, anything, that might make it easier to for him to fight back. ]

Any idea how much time we've got, I haven't figured out how fast they are.

[ Crouching down on the ground while Dean hurriedly speaks under his breath, it only takes him a second before he starts digging through the bag, moving aside various bulky objects. He's fairly sure that they managed to stuff all manner of nonsense in here - who even eats trail mix - but forgot the one thing that couldn't be more important. ]

-- mother fucker, who the hell doesn't pack a goddamn knife. I mean, c'mon, this is like hunting one-oh-one, here.

Dean--

[ Castiel grit his teeth, trying to listen a little harder to the noises beyond the tree line. His hand tightened around the smooth handle of the knife, at the ready to fight for his life, just like every day that had passed before this one. It still puzzled him that these creatures were alive in their own way, but he wasn't unprepared to cut through them, either way.

Vampires were alive in their own way too, after all, and he had no compunction with killing those.

So he waited, strained and on edge, and couldn't hear anything over Dean's complaining. ]

Dean, shut up.

[ At Castiel's words, Dean glanced up, glowering pointedly at the angel's back, now twice as annoyed as he'd been moments before. He knew what Cas was getting at, but he couldn't help but be frustrated by it. He was disarmed, out of the loop, and unable to fend for himself let alone help with the situation. And now he was being told off for kicking up a racket. ]

You know what, you- [ There really wasn't anything to bitch about here, a crack of sticks in the distance snagging Dean's attention before he looked back, returning to narrowing his gaze. ]

Fine.

[ The word was a huff under his breath, quietly stuffing the things back in the bag that he'd pulled out. Now there truly was nothing he could do but stand back up, attention slowly turning on the spot while he tried to distract himself with the horrors of the moment instead of being frustrated that he couldn't fight the way he wanted. ]

[ Dean finally fell quiet, after more griping, and Castiel finally had the opportunity to properly listen to the creatures in the underbrush. He didn't breathe, just listened to the sounds and the following lack of them. Everything slowly, finally, fell still, and Castiel waited a few more seconds just to be sure, before lowering his blade, turning back around toward Dean.

He offered him his hand, to help him back to his feet. ]

We seem to be in the clear. [ A pause. ] Did you fall here, through the portal?

[ Because the middle of an infested forest is where they should be having this conversation. ]

[ The whole thing seemed to last forever - Dean crouched down, waiting, frustrated but incapable of doing a single thing about it. He was practically holding his breath as the seconds ticked by, half expecting Cas to do something more than just stand there and listen. They didn't know what they were up against and Dean didn't like how they were utterly vulnerable, huddled in the center where anything could come from any direction.

But eventually the moment petered out, like the dwindling end of a song descending into silence. Finally he was pulled back up onto his feet, where Cas plastered him with a question he didn't feel like being asked. ]

No. [ That was a viable response, right? Dean hauled the pack back up onto his shoulder, face deadening into unenthralled seriousness. He really didn't want to be talking about this. Not here, not now. ] Why?

Because it's the last thing I remember.

[ So cheerful. The last thing he remembers is letting Dean fall into the portal, with every intention of not getting his own angelic ass free in the process. He was supposed to rot there, and Dean? Dean was supposed to go home, to Sam, and stay there.

And here Dean was, and Sam was nowhere in sight. That was the reality of the situation. ]

Never mind. We should probably move on, before anything else stumbles upon us. I can't fight them off alone.

[ Dean did go home. For a hot minute. Long enough for him to feel like he'd somehow made the wrong choice, ended up in the wrong place, left behind someone who shouldn't have stayed. It was all enough time for him to realize how the world had shifted sideways while he was gone and at the end of the day it didn't matter. He'd been dumped somewhere else all over again.

Home was a distant memory, and one that no longer sat well.

Turning his attention away from Cas while he spoke, Dean squinted off into the distance, trying to think instead through their possibilities and coming up with only one answer. ]

Then we keep going. Any idea what direction? [ It was the perfect escape from the conversation. Survival instead of sentiment. Dean didn't feel like discussing where they had been only days ago, instead trying to face down the here and now. ]

There's a farmhouse not far north of here.

[ He'd overheard people speaking about it, and it seemed like a good thing to strike out for, an oasis of safety in a forest that clearly wanted to kill them. If nothing else, it would give them a respite, and perhaps there would be farm equipment there that would provide Dean with a suitable weapon.

In any case, it was as good a destination as any, and if the others were heading there, there seemed to be no reason why they shouldn't follow, even if his predisposition to get as far away from other people as possible balked at the possibility of safety in numbers. ]

That way, [ He indicated, as though Dean didn't know which direction north was. ]

I still know my way around a compass, Cas.

[ It wasn't meant to be a witty remark, not snide or particularly cruel. It just was what it was, Dean deepening into his stern ways , once more removing himself from his head and returning to live in his surroundings. There was kill or be killed and the primitive nature of it was almost starting to feel homey. A disposition he was set into, that felt right.

Giving his head a minimal shake to clear his brain, he started off in the direction that Cas had pointed out, head bowed but gaze sweeping a steady line across his path. As much as he didn't really want to have to work with everyone that had crash landed with them.. well, the truth of the matter was they were going to cross paths eventually.

Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later. ]

[ Well. He knew that, really. Not that directions had been an easy thing to deal with back in Purgatory, where all they had to find their way around the place were a few stretches of water, lakes and rivers.

He stepped forward, following behind Dean rather than in front of him. If he stumbled into trouble, Castiel would be prepared to step in and protect him, and beyond that he was capable of minding his back that way.

They kept quiet, listening for any noises in the undergrowth. At any point something might appear, after all, ready to try and eat them up, and they needed to be prepared. ]

We aren't going to talk about it, are we?

[ Dean had been prepared to remain silent, to keep his eyes peeled and keep moving. But no, no apparently that wasn't good enough. Because Cas was already perking up with the questions again, speaking from behind him this time as if not seeing him in the process would somehow make Dean more inclined to speak. And while that was a distinct possibility, Dean was just annoyed to have things being brought up again. ]

I think you missed the part where you're talking about it right now.

[ Refusing to look over his shoulder, Dean remained with his gaze forward, trying to hear any startled movements from between the trees. It was the anything he could do to distract himself from the sentiment, wishing that maybe something could crop up just to shelve the conversation for the time being. ]

This isn't talking, Dean. This is avoiding the subject.

[ Well. It is. They're doing so well at avoiding the subject that they should make a sport out of it. Dean would be the winner. It'd be shiny gold trophies all the way.

Still, for Castiel to point it out - and so snappishly - was quite something. It was an edginess, a willfulness, that he didn't often exercise. And when he did, there was a point behind it. ]

I didn't want to go back. I don't want to go back. I can't be trusted around these people.

[ And that was the crux of the matter, really. He couldn't trust himself, and these people were in danger just by breathing his air. Dean had to know that--after all, he'd been living in danger just by being around him for months upon months; what felt like forever. ]

[ Wow, that was a new one. Dean almost stopped in his tracks immediately, a flare of anger sputtering triumphantly in his brain. It took all he had to not reel on Cas then and there, instead just shaking his head and continuing along their path. Moving was more important than kicking up a fuss, for the time being, and so Dean kept going, letting Castiel's words rattle around in his brain. ]

That's what i'm here for, right? To keep you in line.

[ And there he was, still avoiding the subject. Because he'd be keeping that up for as long as he possibly could, sweeping everything aside until the very second he couldn't escape from it. Not that it was any different from usual, but he hadn't had deep conversations in the middle of Purgatory either. There wasn't time for it, and Dean thought that was a damn good argument. ]

'Sides, It's not you we need to be worrying about.

[ Castiel doesn't think that's very fair. Keep him in line? As though he needs it. They could go their separate ways and everyone would be fine--had been fine, when they were in Purgatory, so why not again? ]

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. ]

That's not what I meant, Cas.

[ 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. ]

[ He cocks his head at him, all but scowling, so deep his frown cuts into his weathered Purgatory-face. But whatever he was going to say in return is cut off by the fact that they've come across these creatures. The two closest to them are beginning to stir, and Castiel flinches as their movement grows, tightening his grip on his blade.

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.

You been watching a lot of zombie movies lately?

[ 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. ]

[ Someone he'd spoken to had already warned him not to let the things bite him. So he assumed that that applied to Dean, too. The fear that he might end up like these creatures somehow genuinely frightens him. He also knows to aim for the head, but that's just like, Creature Killing 101.

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. ]

[ Dean only watches sidelong as Cas crashes into the zombie nearest to him, nailing it right through its rotting skull. Maybe there shouldn't be anything satisfying about the entire affair but Dean can't help but feel like he's somehow come back home. To where he's meant to be. And it's all wrong and he knows it; wrong in ways he can't define and doesn't really want to. But it's like breathing air he'd long since forgotten and catching sight of the flickering blade through the air is enough to make him reach over and snag it before it drops.

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. ]

[ It works out well enough; they make steady progress, after the first two, weaving through the bodies as they fall. It looked like there were more, when they were on the ground, but as they rise, the numbers almost seem to dwindle--or maybe that's because they're killing them.

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. ]

[ Dean would make the argument that exciting isn't a good word to use - that this doesn't excite him. It does, however, normalize everything. An honest day's work, something to that ridiculous extent. Something to placate the way it tears him up inside to realize that this feels good. It feels like coming home, coming back to the thing that he knows best in a way he doesn't know how to define. It's wrong but it's oh so right and there's nothing he can do to face that fact except move through it.

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. ]

[ And that's enough. Castiel turns his face away slightly, grimacing as the blade plunges through bone, killing the brain before its pulled free with the most unfortunate wet noise. He holds the body for a moment, before dropping it at his feet, a crumpled mess of a thing that barely resembles a human any more.

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. ]

[Intro Log #01] Enjoy your new vacation home

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