Iwaku SHATTERED - Redux

Status
Not open for further replies.
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

[dash=#ff5f29]It was interesting, how things changed so quickly. From bad to worse, good to better, safe to unsafe, all changes. Rift Town was no different. It was there, and then it wasn't. It was almost amusing to Zypher, in truth, he giggled a little when he thought about it. No, changes like that weren't interesting, they were almost...funny! The escape from Rift Town was intense, between him and the woman who had turned out to be the one he had neglected to bring along he had managed to hold off more collectors than he had thought. She was quite the fighter herself as well, something to keep an eye on her for.

Alas, all fun trips on giant floating contraptions must come to an end, this one a bit rougher than his strange floating tower. He wondered if that had survived the attack on Rift Town as he scrambled amongst the netting that had ensnared him. Things were a bit topsy turvy, it had seemed that Zypher had gotten himself stuck upside down and his crown had conveniently misplaced itself. No time to worry about that! First thing was first, he thrashed a bit against the netting, and when that failed her set to work working out the twists and turns the netting had around his legs.

He had heard Spears calling out, "Regent Zypher here, uh, sir?" He waved as his leg popped free and he collapsed into a heap on the floor below. Feeling a sharp pain in his side he reached under himself to find his crown, a little dusty and a little bent but it was certainly his. He proudly placed it atop his shaggy red hair and moved to where Spears was. "Still got my guns, but I'm pretty low on ammo." Zypher nodded, pulling each pistol free and checking each clip carefully before returning them to their holsters. Was he being to casual for a regent? Was being a regent even something that mattered and besides, if he was regent, what was he ruling over? It wasn't like any of these scraps of land he could call his own, no he just had his tower, and well now these people as potential friends. "Tell me what you need and I'll help to, uh, the best of my abilities I guess?" He offered, a light shrug accompanying. For being tossed around and in peril almost constantly it was a bit strange, even to himself, to be so calm.[/dash]

Zypher tries waxing poetic about the fate of Rift Town but is caught in a net during the crash and joins the other survivors
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

Tragedy wore many faces. Truly, the human face was a remarkable thing of shifting muscles, skin, and organs all working in tandem to create the most pointless effects. Personally, Doctor Surgeon could not fathom why the race needed so complex a face. After all, he got around just fine with a mask...and no one could speak out against his remarkable charm. And this, THIS was charm that required no ludicrous amount of ligaments and synapses to work. If he took comfort in that fact, he made no vocal note of it, scurrying from survivor to survivor with swift diligence. Although there were other healers on the Balloon Boat, their magics were clumsy and overt, nothing so complex as the neat procedures it took to IMPROVE upon a wound's design. Nothing worse than a magic toting healer high off his or her own mastery of medical procedure. Sadly enough, placing them anywhere near a needle and thread found them woefully inept. The difference between a magical healer and a real Doctor? Simple.

Healers only participated in limited time regression, restoring a wound to its previously unmarred state. A Doctor, however, did not mislead the patient about their own ticking mortality. A doctor left scars not because he wanted to, but because the scar would be a ghostly reminder of limitations...perfect injury prevention. And of course, if that didn't work, he could always inflict a more grievous wound upon them to illustrate the effects of the human circulatory system and its excited need to pump its own blood into empty air, denied the path of arterial gateways.

Doctor Surgeon only briefly paused to heal himself, stitching a wound closed across his arm. It was a minor laceration, really, but the Doctor paid it as much attention as he might a shattered leg...or an angry vole burrowing through a calf muscle. When he finished stitching his arm, Doctor Surgeon briefly rooted in his pockets for a beaten tin of smiley faced bandages. Blatant yellow with an infuriatingly vague expression of happieness spread across them, Doctor Surgeon still recieved raised eyebrows when he pulled them out to apply on himself or children. A mother in a small village had gifted him these once, relics from another place, another time. In that time medical science had progressed into the strange realm of arcane symbolism and had stumbled on an alarming discovery. For children, a smiley face on the bandage over a wound made the victim feel 'better' even encouraged faster healing. The old woman had sworn by it, exhibiting its effects on a boy who had scraped his knee. Shockingly, the application of this magical smiley face had erased his pain!

Unfortunately, it appeared the body soon grew suspicious of such banal expressions of moderate contentedness, and so the band-aids were really only effective on children.

Well. Doctor Surgeon (To his knowledge) Had only been born eight years ago, when he woke up...and this meant he was still a child by popular polled opinion. He almost pitied the adults around him, denied this tiny miracle by virtue of organic aging.

Ah well.

His stitches were swift and he moved with almost subconscious direction among the injured. Before the Balloon Boat had begun its inevitable descent, he had successfully treated everyone aboard.

Of course, he was annoyed when their celestial carriage crashed into the sand with all the grace of surgery with a hammer...had he been forewarned, medical assistance would have been abstained till such a time that he could treat them in totality.

"Ah, a lifeless desert," He mused to no one in particular, cocking his bird mask to the side, "Fantastic variation from a recently lifeless town." Glancing to picture girl, he pointed his two index fingers together beneath his beak in an inverted 'v', a symbol of his distaste. "Could we not have simply circled and waited for such unskilled medical operators to leave? At least shelter and food was still in relative abundance where we came from."

He glanced around the survivors, immediately picking out the larger of them and shaking his head sadly. "I'm afraid refugee number thirteen will be the first, but how could I possibly ration him among so many?" It was perplexing, but certainly the conundrum would be addressed civilly when the time arose to consume each other in necessary cannibalism.

If only their young captain was not so thin...eating her would be a noble punishment for landing them in such a poor geography...but now the idea was simply ludicrous.

Besides, according to the vision of his Diagnosis, he had need of her back for his project...and almost certainly there would be coveted meat there.

Perhaps it was time to establish his position in this hierarchy of dividing organic matter.

Forcing himself to the bow of the boat, Doctor Surgeon stood as high as he could and waved his arms wildly to get all of their attention. Those with wounds, he had treated, and certainly the majority of the members here had benefitted from his nimble fingers and wide array of equipment and knowledge.

"Erm, Hello, hello," He began, his voice echoing strangely within the confines of his mask, "You may be aware by now that I am the trained medical doctor who has been administering to your wounds since after the attack. My name is Doctor Surgeon, Doctor Surge for short, Doc for shorter and _______ for shortest. I'm sure most of you were distracted with irrelevant past events and regrettable losses of life while I attended you, but I wanted to let you all know that my services were not granted in charity. If you have recently found you are no longer losing vital fluids through practice of my craft, you are welcome, but I will be accepting payment in the form of favors in equal exchange of value until such a time as we reach civilization...or learn sand beetles exchange currency for goods and services. Thank you for your time and do not hesitate to call on my expertise in case this 'safer' place we've crashed into is perhaps riddled with aberrational dangers just beneath the sand."

Pressing his two index fingers together in a 'v', Doctor Surgeon gave a short bow and stepped away from the edge of the boat.

Or rather he would, save for the tip tapping fellow with a spear poking around the hull. Had he fallen out in the crash? No...it was someone new.

He nearly leaped for excitement. Civilization! At last!

A thought crossed his mind swiftly after the first...an awful realization.

There were no homes on the horizon.

By the unfortunate gods of the Shattered world...

They had come to a kingdom of the homeless.

Arguably worse than a desert riddled with dangers.




Summary: Doctor Surgeon attends to those who need medical care, announcing after the landing he will accept payment in favors of equal value. He notices Exvind but denies hailing him, suddenly afraid they have come upon a kingdom of the homeless...who will have nothing to offer for his medical services.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED


From the not so gently or neat takeoff and the manner with which the ship had been restored, Na'ava couldn't have honestly made any comment that she was surprised as to how their little jaunt had ended. All these weirdos and magical freaks on one airship... it was enough to make anyone nervous, anyway. She had escaped with them because it had been her only option but to be certain, she had no real interest in staying with them now that they had shown their use and helped her escape from the town. True, she owed one or a couple some gratitude for helping her fight and hold the line, but it was every bit as much for their benefit as hers so she didn't feel terribly indebted.

The parody form of a doctor was rambling again, something like a whirring hum at the corners of her vision and Na'ava realized that she'd been making all of these observations with her eyes closed. This mental rundown had all happened in a sort of suspended time to her, though really it was more easily explainable than that. She was not grateful to the doctor for waking her - she was certain that she would have woken eventually anyway and if she hadn't woken to his babbling, she certainly would have heard something more pleasant than his voice to draw her from the prison of her thoughts.

Opening her eyes slowly, Na'ava examined her surroundings with still slightly blurry vision. The crash had tossed the smallish girl against the metal walls and from the sticky blood congealed at her temple, she figured that she'd banged her head something fierce. The girl who'd been piloting the ship had done more damage to Na'ava than the collectors had managed to do. If it weren't for the fact that she was fairly certain being left alone with the crazed invaders was a fate worse than this desert wasteland, Na'ava would likely have been furious with the girl.

Voices were echoing around here, people whispering to themselves and a man in a uniform who seemed to be trying to direct people to a certain area, though it was hard to tell with the poor lighting. Applying pressure to her temple, which gave a painful throb as she tried to sit up, Na'ava struggled against the webbing which had only done its job to the loosest degree. The crash landing, she surmised, must have knocked her out, the webbing not restricting her head from smacking against something, but after she'd had a chance to take in the situation. Which was to say, after she'd had ample opportunity to register the fact that the people aboard the airship were liked to be in for some hardships, herself included.

Finally getting loose from the webbing, Na'ava stumbled to the voice of a man who sounded like he knew what was going on here. It was better than fumbling around in the darkness and her keen eyesight was still severely limited in the lack of light.
​
​

Contemplating her fellows and the situation, Na'ava realizes that she banged her head in the crash. She gets loose of the webbing and makes her way toward Spears instead of bumbling around in the dark.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

Talk about rude awakenings. After the ship stopped rumbling and shaking so much, Effort fell asleep as soon as he found something to lean his head against. Then he woke up to a rude jerk and more shaking but this time it was more violent. By the time it stopped, Effort had rug burns on his arms and what felt like a sprained wrist. Well they'd crashed, but at least they escaped the Collectors for now.

Through the dim lighting Effort saw the other people started releasing themselves from the webbing and decided to follow suit. He hopped onto the sloped floor after releasing himself from the webbing. He heard some one shouting out for people who could do magic to create some light. Even though he himself didn't actually consider it magic, he thought he could help with that. He closed his eyes for a minute. Clothes he was wearing conformed to his body as spines sprouted along his forearms, calves, and spine. His limbs became a bit thinner and his eyes darker and wide. The tips of the hair on his head began to glow. By the time his eyes opened he was shedding an admirable amount of green light. Effort found it highly amusing to see the palms of his hands glowing and even more so when he stuck out his tongue and saw it glowing. Some of the people around him though were more freaked out by the phenomenon and weren't amused as he was by the whole glowing thing. They had needed light but didn't like what they saw. Oh well, as long as it got the job done, and was fun to do at the same time.

He made his way through the people to get to the dude that had taken charge while the Doctor Surgeon dude made his announcement. It wasn't really hard to do since he was easy to notice and most people wanted to get out of his freaky-looking way. He recognized Na'ava as the chick he tried to team up with while holding off the Collectors and also recognized the military dude. Who he didn't recognize, aside from mostly everyone, was the dude with the crown but he concurred with what he had said. "Word up, Chief. I'm here to help too." He winked a friendly, green-glowing scera-ed eye at Na'ava.

Effort shoos Doctor Surgeon off of him as he frees himself from the webbing and partially transforms enough to be able to produce some bio luminous spines and portions of his body to shed light on the dim situation. He makes his way to the Sarge and offers his services.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

[DASH=white]If Raymond had thought the day could not get any worse, fate had to show him it could.

First his bounty escaped (though the airship the fugitive was on could've been attacked by Collectors before it got away), the Collectors attacked, he and the others barely escaped, and now they had crashed lord only knows where.

The best part... it was only late afternoon.

Raymond got up from the wall where he had been thrown. The adrenaline from earlier had already worn off. His head felt as though it was in a fog, there was a dull flat dry taste in his mouth, and now he was sure he had a developing bruise on his right shoulder. On the plus side even though the hallway was now only powered by emergency lights, he could tell he was near the hanger.

One has to savor the little victories.

Slinging the M-16 back onto his shoulder he carefully trod back into the hanger. Spears was apparently trying to organize the survivors, the remnants of Rift Town. Raymond carefully worked past a young girl with an umbrella who was attempting to preach to two other survivors that it was thanks to "Shroomy" that they survived. Whatever or whoever the hell "Shroomy" meant.

It was darker in the hanger than in the hallway. Raymond resolved to fix that little problem, might as well be able to see something. Moving to where they had entered the ship he examined the controls in the dim light. Now the mask wearin' self proclaimed "Doc" was declaring his services for a price to the survivors. Raymond mentally blocked the shrill voice out; his headache was bad enough as it was. With a click and a mechanical sigh the metal plates slowly retracted. Part of the Cargo Bay filling with a harsh dry light.

There in front of him stood a slightly surprised man, clad in travelers' clothes, a spear half ready to rap the side of the ship once again.

At first Raymond thought it was a local of the area and was about to speak. But then Doctor Surgeon swept past Raymond and toward the stranger, standing in between them. Raymond looked past the stranger to the horizon.

They were in a desert. There was nothing but jagged rocks and aged sand for who knew how far around. The wind picked up some particles of sand and blew into the hanger. Raymond took it as a forbidding sign.

No food, no water, no resources, and now in the middle of nowhere.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

[/DASH]
Raymond was in a hallway during the crash. Enters the hanger and provides ample light by opening the doors that they entered by. Discovers they are in a desert.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

At Spears' order, Curiose went over to the small group of people, holding her Shroom in the air, waving it slowly. She praised its doings to everyone, stating that it was because of the 'shroom they all survived, never mind the help of the others. Well, she did acknowledge them-- just a smidgeon.

Gleefully she held it close to her, dropping the umbrella in the hold and spinning around.

"Yes, we made it! We made it. But my, is it hot here... Is there any water here?"

The gleeful feeling lasted only a minute as she saw all the other souls sitting around, some injured, others bruised. She was lucky. The tumbling crash landing did not much for her, aside from bruise her limbs ever so slightly. All of which, she was confident would heal as she praised the word of her God. All she could think of was this new colony of people, and how they would be the first stepping stones to the new rule of the fungus.

There was a survivor in the opposite corner of her, nursing a bloody scratch in his arm. Out of pity, Curiose went over to help nurse the man, ripping a piece of the bottom hemming of her dress to tie around the cut, and attempt to end any more blood loss. While she did so, she quoted the 'Shroom's visions, its ideals to the survivor, blabbering on insecantly despite obvious lack of care from her patient.

She had made it, Shroomy had made it, that's all that mattered.

Curiose, upon settling down after the crash, began to do her work as a missionary and tended to a wounded survivor, oblivious to everyone else.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED


Miraculously enough he had made it into the ship with Sakura, after pushing the durability of his seemingly unbreakable weapon beyond what any normal surfboard would have ever withstood. Truly it was an item which bent reality to a dangerous extreme. Luckily the day to find out just how much punishment it could take had not come. Instead it helped save the lives of several people from Rift Town. Now the odd armament had taken on the less conspicuous keychain form and hung off his trigger finger by the keyring. But every few moments his thoughts would go back to the downfall of Rift Town. For him it had been the first town he had ever seen since waking up on the airship. A place he had barely gotten to know before watching it get destroyed by these strange creatures that everyone else called Collectors.

"We're making an emergency landing! This is gonna be bumpy!"

Now the ship was heading on a crash course with the unknown below. All around him panic set in for those who knew nothing about staying mellow. But their bad vibes were nothing against what the Surfer among them had hidden deep down inside. Part of him still wondered where all that power displayed by him earlier had come from. Everything had basically just been instinct. Orion looked over at the girl he had rescued named Sakura with an otherworldly calm in his ocean blue eyes. Silently a promise was made to the girl that he would continue to protect her until she wished to part ways with him. An obstacle to all those who wished her harm.

Bracing himself for impact with the cargo webbing, Orion waited with the bravery of a brah for what was to come.

Even before the rough landing he had already suffered injuries at the hands of the collectors. Wounds that would heal with enough time until the next physically traumatic event of his life. Clearly from how the airship had ran out of luck and fuel at the same time the cycle had other plans for Orion's road to recovery. Not to mention everyone else on the quickly sinking sky relic.

After it was all said and dunzo, the Surfer survived one of the harshest wipeouts he had ever gone through. That he could remember anyway. It came number two on a list only topped by falling into an airship around a week ago. Orion started to wonder if he should start avoiding these odd vehicles everyone else kept using and just stick to his surfboard. Blue eyes opened to find that some had not fared too well during the crash. Systematically the Surfer started to tense or otherwise move parts of his body to make sure everything still worked. Internal bleeding and fatal organ damage would have to rear their ugly heads later since checking for that usually required a more thorough professional practicioner of medicine. If the Sentient Star actually even had organs inside placed somewhere around all that cosmic energy.

Untangling his arm from the cargo webbing, Orion started to check over Sakura for injuries first. Right now she was the only actual friend he had among so many strangers. Hopefully she wouldn't mind his hands groping at her bones for a few minutes in the name of her well-being. Skull came first on the list, before examining her carefully all the way down to her dainty little toes.

Several minutes of 'Does this hurt?' later. . .

From what he could tell nothing had been broken or fractured during the crash. All the muscles were still intact and nothing had been torn from what he could discern through cautiously moving her limbs. Diagnosis from a guy who knew absolutely no medical terms would obviously alleviate all her worries. Bruises wouldn't show up for a little while longer. . . so there was no real use in trying to figure that out right now. Soreness could not exactly be seen which made that a moot point unless she answered affirmatively to his question. Cuts to her delicate skin were rare, putting a smile on his lips as well as his eyes.

"Well Sakura, looks like your bod's just fine."

Now that the girl had been relatively taken care of, Orion started to wander around helping those still trapped in the webbing. If they had to suddenly flee the Surfer felt that no one needed to get left behind. Rift town had been crazy circumstances beyond his control. But an airship full of people who needed help was a totally different situation.

Hopefully it would be a while until he witnessed the horror awaiting him outside.


Summary:
Orion survives the crash with minor injuries. Checks up on how bad Sakura got hurt. Then starts helping out around the cargo hold in case of a sudden need to evacuate. NO MAN LEFT BEHIND!
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

Raziel spent the flight tied to the cargo netting, the girl held against him. He didn't know her name but he had taken responsibility for her safety and it was his fault he couldn't look after himself. He could feel them rapidly descending and his grip tightened, in the back of his mind wondering if the ties around himself would keep both of them safe of under the force of the impact and the velocity of two bodies or if they would break sending them both slamming into the bulkhead. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts, their own concerns or perhaps has resigned themselves to their fates.

'Here we go.'

The crash was harder than he thought it would be but softer then his worst fears. He was jolted to the side his grip on his charge tightening as he was thrown from side to side against his restraints. He could hear loos items being thrown around the ship and closed his eyes, it was all he could do to hold onto her.. the rest of the world would have to wait.

Then as suddenly as it started it was over and startling yet short lived silence descended.

"Here." he called in reply to the soldier's call for the survivors to sound off.

"Raziel and.. I don't know who this is." he admitted.

He cut himself free and Chanter cradled against him he stepped over to where the wounded were and set her down, removed his coat and placed it over her before following the others leaving her in the shelter of the cargo hold. Noticing Doc Surgeon heading out into the sun through a side-door he hesitated, but followed him through. He didn't have a lot to trade but..

"Hey Doc... how much to look over someone who was hit over the head with a revolver?"

Raz covers Chanter in his coat then follows Doc to ask him how much to look over the girl. He does not have anything worth trading other than his weapons.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

The ride was more than tolerable to a space marine, the ship shook gently with it's ancient engines and the windage, but it wasn't enough to break his concentration. Regeneration was a difficult power to manifest at the best of times, it required almost all of the users attention as he rebuilt the damaged tissue, channeling the power of the warp into granting him amazing cellular regeneration.

When the Airship began going down, a small part of him expected it.

Reacting with the speed only an Astartes can manage he began securing the civilians to whatever would lessen the impact, chaining himself to the deck only after he'd helped as many as he could. He'd been trained how to react in the event a transport went down sure, but that was tailored towards Thunderhawk and Stormraven class aircraft, with equipment that could hold the bulk of an astartes securely. This however, was not.

With the first impact he was torn free, and sent skidding into the nearest bulkhead and leaving a noticeable dent. He managed to catch onto a latch handle and hold himself in place for the rest of the crash. He rose before the others, checked on the civilians and used the came warp infused regeneration technique on those who were the most injured when the ship's Vox-Caster analog

"Sound off!" The voice belonged to Spears "Anyone who can walk, regroup on me. We have injured to triage. Magic-users, light us up. Check your weapons."

After he had finished he made his way to the bridge, the sound of tapping on the hull bothering him on his way up. The thumping of his boots announcing his presence long before he ducked through the hatch and entered, just as Jake was pulling Marvin to his feet.

"Any idea as to where we are?"
Grey_Knight_alt_pose_by_TerronViking.jpg


 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

[size=+1]The survivors of Rift Town slowly disentangle themselves from the netting in the hanger, most of them slightly shaky on their feet following the crash but still able to move about without much difficulty.

Some aren't so lucky.

Cyanide lies unconscious amidst the rope, his head having been bashed off the side of the hull during the crash. Several others have sustained injuries from the crash, and many of the wounded from the battle at Rift Town are even worse for wear now; they will not last much longer in some cases.

And then there are the truly unfortunate.

One or two of the survivors did not manage to get themselves to the netting in time. They lie broken across the hanger, limbs shattered, backs broken, no longer breathing. And one who reached the netting did not survive the crash either; lying crumpled amidst the others, part of the netting having somehow wrapped itself around her neck and strangled her during the crash, is Skye. Her eyes stare lifelessly up to the ceiling of the ship, her arms forever pulling at the rope she never managed to get free of in time.

In amidst the rest of the group the bartender of The Runaway clambers free of the netting, his shotgun dangling limply from one arm and the other holding a rucksack. Following in his wake is a tall, lanky man in tattered clothing who seems entirely too calm to be in the situation he's in, smoking a foul-smelling cigarette of some kind.
"I'm still here, hoss," he mutters in a low, growling voice to Spears as he walks over, "And in better shape than some, too. I hope you've got a lot of bandages, cos that's an ass-load of triages you're gonna need to do." He watches Doctor Surgeon deliver his declaration that he will be taking favours in return for his medical services before heading out into the hot sun of the desert.

Sighing, the bartender staggers outside after the doctor and puts the bag he's carrying down next to him. "That's what's left of the painkillers and drugs we had at The Runaway. Maybe not good enough for some people," he shoots evils towards Raziel, "But out here beggars can't be choosers, right? They should help, at least. Call that payment for the survivors for now; you're probably the only person here who can get much use out of those drugs anyways... save maybe Sho here." He pats the tall, spaced-out man following on the back heavily, who barely seems to react to his name being spoken.
"Moo..." Sho responds in a sleepy, dreamy voice.
"Yeah, I think he's fine as he is just now." He waddles back into the hanger, already sweating from the heat, and asks loudly, "Right then, what's needing done? No point sitting about with our thumbs in our asses anymore; can we at least figure out where the fuck we are?"

A few survivors have been injured by the crash, but Doctor Surgeon has seen to them. A few will not survive much longer. And a few, including Skye, have perished in the crash. The bartender of The Runaway offers Doctor Surgeon the remaining painkillers and drugs from his old bar as payment for treating the survivors for now, before suggesting they get the doors open so they can see where they've landed.
[/size]


[size=+1]I'm helped to my feet by Jake, who's still the image of calm despite all we've gone through today. Got to hand it to the man; I don't know how he keeps his head on so straight in these sort of situations. Maybe because he's got Marvin to look after. Marvin who, true to character, has managed to get himself stuck again and is freaking out about it royally.

The impact has left my head spinning, however, and I'm forced to steady myself against one of the consoles and keep my eyes shut for a good ten seconds in an attempt to steady myself. I could swear I can hear banging against the side of the hull... but Marvin's screams are drowning them out. If they're even there at all; I've just survived a fucking airship crash, so it stands to reason I might be hearing things a bit. Finally, I open my eyes again and stagger over to help get Marvin free from the console he's managed to get himself stuck under.

Between Jake and I we eventually manage to get him free, but it's not exactly easy. Nor is it helped by his constant panicking.
"By the Cycle, Marv'n!" I exclaim as we finally pull him out from under there, "How the fuck d'ye manage to do th's so dam often?" My head still reels a bit from the crash, but I'm slightly more steady on my feet now. "Fuck 't, I dun wanna know actually," I continue, chuckling slightly. I'm finding that laughter comes easy after such an experience; you find yourself surprised you're still alive and after that anything's funny. "Let's go see how t'others are do'ng. We m'ght be needed down there--"

"Any idea where we are?"

The voice is loud, heavy and authoritative. I have a good idea who the source is even before I spin around to see Karsikan standing in the doorway of the bridge.
"At th's po'nt your guess's as good as m'ne, b'g man," I reply as I walk towards him, "How are th'ngs down 'n the hanger?" Karsikan shrugs.
"We are patching up who we can. Most are just shaken from the crash. Some were unlucky."
"Any deaths?"
"...not many." I sigh.
"Tha's... someth'n at least. C'mon, let's get down there an' get t'doors open. See 'f we can't find out where we landed."

If you can call what we just went through a landing.

Marvin's cries and the shock of the crash drown out any chance of Aeolus hearing the tapping on the hull. Steadying herself, she assists Jake in pulling Marvin free before Karsikan appears in the bridge. Asking the space marine for details as to what's occurred down in the Bridge, Aeolus sets off down there herself.
[/size]
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

three.png

<table ALIGN="CENTER"]><tr><td width=175 align="center">Marvin</td><td width=184 align="center">Sergeant Spears</td><td width=198 align="center">Jake</td></tr></table>​

Question 1: What are the enemy doing, and why? Analysis of objectives, dominating ground, killing areas, obstacles, key terrain, visibilities and axes. Assess enemy doctrine, equipment, weapons, morale and vulnerabilities. Factor - Deduction - Task/Constraint.

Question 2: What have I been told to do, and why? Mission analysis of CO's intent, my part, specified and implied tasks, main effect, resources, parameters and H-Hour line. Factor - Deduction - Constraint.

Question 3: What effects do I want to have on the enemy? Identify main effort and send warning order. One-third/two thirds rule.

Question 4: How can I best accomplish these effects? Identify three courses of actions. Factor in final assault, limits of operation, forming up and suppression points.

Question 5: What control measures do I need to impose? Fire support, counter-surveillance, COMSEC, EMCON and limit of exploitation. Category - Measure - Action.

SITUATION - MISSION - EXECUTION. H-Hour is in 10 minutes. This gives you 3 minutes to prepare.


The old platoon drills from Basic Training echoed in his mind. They were the bedrock of the ISAF. They were all he had. If Spears was not the ISAF, then he was nothing, and he would break apart in this desolate world.

The Sergeant turned to the people who had gathered on his position. He was holding his arms out slightly, the burns clear on his flesh, but despite the pain he kept his composure, gesturing to each of them in turn. "First step: Shake and Shout. If no response, check breathing. Clear the mouth of debris, use your thumbs to move the jaw forward and tilt the head. Then place in the three-quarter prone position." Using the light provided by Effort, which reflected sharply from Acqua's necklace, he turned one of the casualties onto their side, adjusting the arm and leg to show the standard prone position. Then he swayed a little as he returned to his feet. If breathing, check for bleeding. Apply pressure to wounds. Do not remove foreign objects. Elevate bleeding limbs. If bandages do not stop bleeding, apply tourniquet." He noticed Raymond slipping out into the hallway, whilst Curiose, Doc and Raziel seemed to be doing their own thing. The sergeant's half-closed eyes fluttered a little as he straightened his back. "If not bleeding, check for breaks, swellings and deformities. Splint broken limbs. Any burns can be treated with cold water up to 10 minutes after the burn." He noticed Orion helping Sakura - a clumsy imitation of the very checks he was now describing. Then he nodded to the barman, who had passed a bag of meds to the Surgeon creature. "Apply pain relief to all injuries except head, breathing and non-responsives. Repeat application every 30 minutes." He reached into this belt webbing, removing three marker pens. "Write on the foreheads with these." He handed the first to Zypher, whilst pointing to one corner of the room, "P1 for unresponsives, blocked airways, breathing difficulties, tourniquets and airway burns - upper left corner." He handed the next marker to Na'ava and pointed to the opposite corner, "P3 for all walking wounded - lower left corner." He handed the last marker to Acqua and pointed to the third corner, "P2 for all other casualties - upper right corner." He put his hand on Effort's shoulder, a little too heavily, leaning his weight onto the man. "Keep them lit up - all the light you can manage." Then his burnt arm indicated to the final corner. "Command and medication point will be here. I want a sitrep from each corner in 10 minutes. Let's move."

He turned from the others, taking a few steps before he stumbled. Luckily, Jake was there to catch him, putting his shoulder underneath the sergeant's arm. "Woah... Sarge, you okay?"

"Just... a little crispy..."

"Oh shit, they killed the Sarge!" muttered Marvin, who stood in the cargo bay doorway with Aeolus. Behind them, Karsikan was blocking out most of the light from the corridor.

"Sit down," Jake said as he helped Spears to slump against the bulkhead. "Marvin, give me your canteen." As Marvin unclipped his water bottle, Jake carefully unpeeled the shreds of the drill sergeant's charred shirt. "Y'know, there's a reason the 50 cal. is mounted..."

"Stow the 'tude, soldier," Spears grunted as he settled on the ground. "You need to... keep an eye on the triage."

"Aye aye, Sergeant," Jake replied, before drawing a 'P3' on his superior's forehead.



Spears uses his training to order a military triage of the survivors. Then he collapses from the pain of his burnt arms, leaving Jake and Marvin in charge of the triage.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

Effort noticed the Sarge's burnt condition and considered offering to try and fix his arms, but he had almost no experience fixing burnt flesh because he had never experienced such wounds. "You got it chief. Take it easy." He turned around and scooted through the people as the plan started going into effect.

Slowly things started getting organized and other people started helping. Effort provided as much light as he could, and near the time the reps from each corner were supposed to meet back at the Command and Medication point, his stomach started to gurgle with hunger.

Effort walks around providing light for everyone. Time passes and the light Effort is producing is starting to take it's toll on his body. It's almost time for the site reps to meet.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

"Excuse me you two" Karsikan stepped past Aeolus and Marvin as they moved. He knelt beside spears, placing a gauntleted hand on his chest after Jake had moved on "I admire your tenacity Sergeant," he stated with half smile "but everyone, even I, have limits to what their body can take, do try and be more careful." he concentrated for a moment, azure flames leaping from his closed eyes "This will fee strange, the bodies natural healing processes are normally too slow to be perceived." He took control of Spears' body, numbing the pain of his wounds and paralyzing him temporarily, he willed the wounded man's body to function as he accelerated his healing process. Within a few moments the burns were starting to lose their edge and Karsikan returned Spears' body to it's rightful owner, while holding Spears down with his main hand, "Easy, you're going to be disoriented for a moment, this is normal." He allowed Spears to rise slowly on his own before doing so himself "I suggest we organize a few of us to head outside, get our bearings and perhaps, Emperor willing, find some sort of settlement and gather supplies. Who is interested?"


Summary: GMK uses Lay on Hands on Spears, before suggesting that we crack open a door and take a look outside.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

[size=+1]Marvin, Jake and Karsikan attend to the wounded Sergeant Spears as I survey the survivors strewn around the hanger.

Many injured, a few dead, and all exhausted. They've just stared almost-certain death in the face and the adrenaline's worn off now. A bunch of tired, terrified faces are starting to take note of my presence in the hanger.

And I can't help but notice the looks of anger I'm getting, too.

Guess they didn't appreciate the crash.

This is a situation I'll have to handle carefully if I want to remain in command of this airship. And not get lynched by angry survivors. I need to make these people know that I'm the one in charge here, that I'm the one who pulled their asses out of the fire and onto this ship in the nick of time. After all, I need this ship too damn much to lose it now.

So I meet those angry gazes and I stare right back.
"Y'all are probably wonder'n why we had such an... 'nterest'n land'n," I begin, my voice echoing around the hanger, "'Ah can 'mag'ne some of y'are a b't p'ssed about the whole th'ng." There's some snarls in agreement from some. "Understandable. 'F ah could have done 't d'fferently ah would've. Bel'eve me, ah d'dn't much fancy land'n 'n the manner we d'd e'ther.

"But we'd lost all the damn fuel an' the w'nds had taken the sh'p; we was be'n steered 'nto the Abyss, and that's a tr'p none of us would've been com'n back from. So ah d'd the only th'ng ah could an' landed th's ol' th'ng 'fore we got blown down 'nto etern'ty. Ah real'se 't got some of you hurt. Hell, we lost a few of us 'n the damn 'mpact. But 'f ah'd jus' left th's sh'p float'n up there under the w'nd's control? You better bet your asses we'd all be a hell of a lot worse off now.

"So 'f anyone has a problem with the way ah'm call'n the shots, 'f anyone reckons they can do better? Then you come an' fuck'n say so. 'N the meantime..." I pause as the M16-wielding man from Rift Town begins to open the main doors of the hanger, "...ah'm gonna head outs'de and see 'f ah can't f'gure where the fuck exactly we've landed."

Sunlight begins to spill into the hanger as the doors unseal themselves and slide open, followed quickly by heat and sand. I cover my eyes to keep the sand from them as I stride through the crowd of survivors, exiting the ship alongside Raymond.

the_elder_desert.jpg

The sight of endless dunes and rock greets us, with only the horizon of the Abyss changing the scenery. Nothing but sand and empty desert wherever you look.
"Goddamn..." I mutter, loud enough for Raymond to hear, "...th's sh't jus' gets better an' better..."

Food and water are gonna be a problem. As are the injured amongst us; we don't have many bodies fit to defend the ship from threats or get her up and running again.

But those are problems for later.

Right now all I can do is marvel at the scale of the desert before me.

Aeolus stares down the slightly irritated crowd of survivors and explains why the ship crashed before following Raymond out into the desert.
[/size]
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

A voice of authority came through the hanger, Sergeant Spears giving a speech about how to handle those who were injured. Letters and numbers assigned to the wounded via magic marker to discern their biological status. Good enough way to handle the situation given their limited resources. Unsurprisingly the Surfer did not receive one of the three markers from Spears. Not that it bothered the blond in the least. More than likely it would get those involved who might not initially help with the diagnosis process. Perhaps if people were not in danger of dying or whatever complications their fragile condition present, they would have to worry about magic marker wiener drawings ending up on the faces of those who were unconscious. But alas those who were in relatively good shape still had plenty of weariness to keep them away from mischief.

Each step the Surfer took came just a touch slower than usual but they still led him back to Sakura nonetheless. Taking a seat beside her, the blond leaned over to whisper a joke into her ear about the man's rather crispy condition. One that he found found rather funny. Though others might not share his outlook on a dose of good-natured ribbing.

"Dude over there looks like Burnt Reynolds."

After that joke the Surfer briefly allowed himself to rest with both eyes closed. Only for appearances though since sleep did not rank high on the list of a being powered by cosmic energy. Not that he remembered any such facts abut his own physiology. Right now coming to terms with how had fought against the Collectors was certainly enough. Somehow he was a walking dictionary of surfer lingo and innate fighting prowess without any understanding as to why at all. Concentration burned behind those closed eyes while focus went into the desire of healing rather soon. Though that was merely a desire of pure will which had no guarantee that it would actually increase his healing abilities. Hope allowed him enough confidence to try. If he did not recover quickly it would slow the rest down. Plus it would keep him from surfing!

At that time, Aeolus walked out into the hanger in front of everyone else.

Weariness and terror did not exist on the Surfer's face, unlike most of the others. Perhaps that would give the one who had provided their escape some confidence. At least enough to believe that not everyone wanted to try causing a mutiny while so many suffered from exhaustion. And those were the lucky ones. Even with both eyes closed in a sort of mellow meditation, each ear picked up every word of the speech. Ironically it took him a few seconds to process what Aeolus actually said given the thick accent. Which of them was harder to understand? The boy with the almost alien slang language or the girl with an unbelievably thick accent? Only time would truly tell when a moment of pressure came and the two actually had to communicate with one another.

Word came that they were going outside.

Orion smiled optimistically at the sound of such a promising proposition. After all he loved going outside. That much he certainly remembered about himself. Keeping him caged up inside the crashed airship would start to get to him after a while without any exposure to sunlight and the fresh air. Foregoing any thought that heading outside could end up potentially hazardous the Surfer rose up from his makeshift 'seat' and opened up those ocean blue eyes. Despite his injuries, hope motivated him to get near the doors quickly enough while they were opened wide.

Heat and sand struck his face.

Orion's heart started to pound wildly in his chest with excitement that could not be contained even by the shell which held so much cosmic energy. Rushing through the crowd of survivors, past Aeolus and Raymond, he leaped right out onto the sand without a second's hesitation. Bare feet scampered across the desert sand with all the fervor of a young boy on summer vacation who bolted straight from the family car to the beach. Just one look at his face would have told anyone why he was so willing to run twenty yards out into the desert. Seconds flew by before the reality of the current situation finally sunk in for the Surfer as his ocean blue eyes started to dart around in confusion.

Inch by inch he looked in every direction.

Not a drop of water existed for what looked like miles.

A myriad of emotions started to well up in the naturally calm surfer. Rarely did his mellowness give way to any sort of despair but this situation had tested him beyond his limits. This was not some strange noir version of him which had years to cope with no sun and surf. Eventually he turned to face those who he had left in the dust heading toward a beach that did not exist. Orion's face served as the quintessential portrait of desolate despair. Surfing in a place such as this served as nothing more than a fantasy for the foolish. Unless water truly was just out of sight by some sheer chance of fate. But thoughts of such optimism had utterly abandoned him at the sight of a sand-filled wasteland. Falling to his knees with both hands balled into fists raised high up toward the sky shaking with righteous fury, he let loose a wail of pure agony that echoed from dune to dune.

"It's a beach. . . WITHOUT ANY WATER! WHAT KINDDA ASS CLOWN WOULD MAKE THIS?! THE HORROR DUUUUUUUUDEEEE!!!!! THE HORROR!!!!!"





Summary:
Orion comes to relax next to Sakura for a few minutes. Then he learns that others are going outside and joins them. Upon realizing the vast desert is NOT a beach. . . he shows his first signs of an emotion other than mellow.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

First Movement - Bleak Introductions

​
The proddings of the ship were largely useless, at first. This...thing...was a titan. A relic. Forgotten, old, and beaten...but here it was all the same. The rusted metal seemed to be one solid, until, from seemingly nowhere, a split appeared. Seamless. Slipping back to reveal figures. One after another, they emerged, apparently working from most strange to least. First there was the masked creature in black, who frankly took up most of the Bard's attention while the others filed out. When it became apparent that this door would be the primary one from which the travelers would emerge, he planted his Spear into the sand, and promptly began to use it as a leaning stick, taking some of the weight off of his weary bones. With a sigh, he tugged down his scarf, the weakened fabric scratching against the persistent grey roughness on his cheeks and chin that never seemed to vanish, even when he 'could' shave. With all of this excitement, the blazing sun seemed less...intense. It was the sort of euphoria one experiences when they experience something new - that thrill of dropping on a roller coaster though notably less visceral.

Exvind was quiet. Patient. Waiting for more of them to appear before becoming something other than part of the landscape. A girl - truly, that's what she was when compared to someone who had apparently lived a rather full life - emerged with the sort of exasperated sigh one expects from a survivor. One crisis averted, only to be replaced. He was preparing to say something, perhaps something comforting at least in part? - Before some eccentric-looking punk stumbled out, gave the desert one look, and collapsed to his knees wailing as if his soul had been torn out and devoured by a pair of murderously savage demonic monstrosities. That being said, the Wanderer's expression could be expressed as one of sophisticated disdain and composure. But, any common man would cite his expression as one of, 'Are you fucking kidding me?'

"It's called a desert. Any water found out here is for conservation and drinking.....'Dude.' Now man up and don't end up sobbing...you'll simply end up dehydrated."

His voice was, for lack of a better word, jagged. Tired. Worn out. He stood fully alert and poised, but such was the way of all who traveled the Abyss....the ones who had done it the most held that 'broken' sound about them. That, or perhaps it was his age peaking through. He did not rasp like some infirm, or wheeze. There simply was no smoothness to the sound that came from his throat. Narrowed grey eyes scanned over the growing crowd, before he slowly dipped a hand back into his pack, shuffling through before drawing out the heavy, black leather-bound book at the bottom. Still braced against his Spear, he flipped through it. Each and every page was filled to the brim with a winding cacophony of symbols, lines, blots, and numbers that would make no sense to any human being...unless they knew how to read sheet music. From page to page, they seemed to shift, and twist, and bend. The older man went from page to page, before stopping, licking his finger and placing it down on one line. He traced its course, before nodding, tucking the Score away, and looking up, directly at the girl with the tattoos.

"I am going to assume you're the leader....well...assuming you have even some water on this ship of yours, I'll gamble and say this Desert will be kinder to you than whatever you were running from. No predators. No plants. No life here save the relics and fools who wander it. If you don't..."

No more needed to be said. The Desert spoke on its own accord. The heat. The sun. The lack of water. It was going to cull those who were not fit enough to survive it. It would draw them into its depths, an Abyss of Sand rather than Void. More merciful than falling to eternity, but only just. A black mercy - simply being too exhausted to carry on and collapsing rather than being taken down by the other horrors of the world. There were worse ways to die.

But the time to talk was over. The audience had assembled. The Score read that he was supposed to play now. To resonate. Strike a chord with these people. The brown-clad man pulled back from his Spear, the chain binding them clicking quietly like macabre chimes as he pressed a small button near the blade. From the sides, two small slats of wood emerged - just thick enough to hold the Score - which was promptly placed on it. In moments, the Spear had become a weaponized music stand. Again, he tore through the pages with reverence, stopping near the beginning this time, the notes winding through his mind as from his back, he drew out a small, steel case tucked under his coat, close to him. Silently, he drew out the burned case's charge - a violin. As old as the man who held it, from first glance.

In his mind, the people did not exist anymore. They were simply notes - a rest. Quarter. Half. 3/4 time. A Waltz. Fermata. Pieces of a greater puzzle - art. They existed in the background as, for the first time in weeks, he began to play from the Score.


One. Two. Three. Four.



Each note.

​
Resonance.​

​
The sound carries into the ship. Aiming for​

​
heartstrings. mementos. Relics of memories​

heartbeats. Gone.

All can hear. The wounded. The dying. It echoes

​
peace for some tranquility for others.... final sounds instead of​

And then...comes to an end. Did time pass? Perhaps, but the winds stilled as the Bard played, drawing string over string, playing the melancholy piece. Not out of any sort of dominance, but a respect. Mankind may have forgotten the past, but, in some sense, so did nature. The world was the audience when the Score was played, but once the song was over, the magic ended. He said nothing as the violin was tucked away. Then the Score. Then the additions to the Spear. Within moments, he was again, just the wanderer.

"...I am Exvind...pleasure to meet you all....that being said, the sun plays tricks. Nightfall will come far sooner than expected, and you will want to be prepared...all this heat will turn to cold. I will help as best as I am able..."

Exvind has a lovely little chat with those that walk outside, gives a brief warning about the Desert, and plays from his Score which promptly laughs at the laws of how sound should be carried and rings through the whole bloody ship.
​
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

In times of crisis, every amateur with a bleeding heart steps up to be a doctor. Humanity resonates in even the most unskilled fleshbag, filling hospitals with malpractice and ending perfectly healthy lives over unnecessary amputation, or treatment. Doctor Surgeon could only shake his bird-like head as the sergeant went to work on the injured, superseding Doctor Surgeon's authority to play army in a time of real crisis. Never mind that his suggestions were sound, his medical advice wise, and his heart in the right place...last the Doctor checked, there was no honorific Dr. in front of his name. No, no. The man had chosen to lead men TO injury rather than to treat the injured. He should be elsewhere, outside the ship, convincing perfectly healthy humans to walk blindly into pointless combat.

A passenger hissed in pain, the Doctor's wraps too tight along a fractured tibia. Pausing, he gently undid the gauze and rewrapped it, inverting his two index fingers up to express his apology. Now their meddling was confusing his concentration, perfect. All of it was perfect, really. The whole mess of it. A little girl had made one right choice in the entirety of the trip...and that was reactivating the balloon boat. But even good decisions could turn out poorly and rather than logically travel to some place of at least moderate civilization, they landed in a desert populated by the poor and homeless...destitute degenerates who wouldn't know medical knowledge if someone hit them in the head with an appendix...removed, naturally, to prevent appendicitis. It was only when the man from the bar approached him, a moderately more familiar face than anyone else's, that the Doctor had a chance to sit back and collect his concentration. He was a doctor, damn it, not some gibbering human in a military uniform.

When he laid the stitched girl at his feet, Doctor Surgeon was quick to asses her, gently lifting her limbs, running a gloved finger along her scars, and checking her pulse. Simple loss of consciousness really, nothing too pressing unless it lasted for much longer. Longer than a day or two, and they entered the realm of the comatose and anyone's guess was viable for her recovery.

"If you are committing her into my care, you need pay nothing," The Doctor assured, cutting down some netting and moving a few ancient furniture aside to begin constructing a litter, "She will need to pay the fees of my processing upon awakening and you are welcome to assist financially then...no sooner." It wouldn't do to take his money if she ended up dead. No payment for a corpse, none at all. It was a new policy, one that had become necessary when the angry wanted answers as to why the injured became the dead. It did little good to explain that medical science was not magic, and so the new policy had been adopted to facilitate those who felt they were paying for healthy results, not funeral preparations.

Of course, Doctor Surgeon wouldn't charge them anyways...he only took from the treated...and when they passed away, he took stock in what they left behind. For her? It was the left eye. It gleamed in his vision with the special sort of light he was now accustomed to seeing. She had the left eye of the hero...and should she perish, he would take it.

He was about to assure his companion her health was in good hands when something died outside. It died with such ravaged force that it rent the air with its passage, shrieking up and down through every nook and cranny, reverberating the very core of his being and setting the teeth beyond his mask grating in agony. Where...where...WHERE? Leaping to his feet, Doctor Surgeon strode across the deck of the ship and down the gangplank, both hands up to the side of his mask as if shutting out the awful dirge that the very depths of his soul spurned with all the power it had stored.

"Shut up, shut up, shut UP!" He growled, his voice echoing and tinny within the mask, "Cease and desist, cease and desist. Whatever murder you are committing here, continue only if you can end this infernal racket!"

His eyes were on Exvind, the last notes of his Score hovering around him like loathsome bats. Doctor Surgeon mimed tearing hair from his skull, strongly considering attempted murder...but thought better of it. The expressions of the others were something akin to awe, calm, even happiness. How their primitive skulls could interpret that din of devils into something pleasurable was beyond Doctor Surgeon's comprehension...perhaps they were all suffering from shared mass delusion, or maybe a communicative ear infection. Either way, he was the first to speak, interrupting Exvind angrily.

"Yes, yes. Enough, enough already. What are you again? An Ex-Finned? Some sort of amphibious castaway trading scales and fins for the ability to play murder into the ears of others? I have a fantastic way you can assist. Kindly point your noise making machine at any enemy we come across, that they might hear and die in agony rather than us. Or, or, or, if you feel so inclined, you can remove your skin and fashion a blanket of it to ward off the cold...or...or, perhaps best yet. Let us feed your stringed...stringed...thing into a fire that we may all benefit from the end of such an abominable invention."


Summary: Apparently, Doctor Surgeon cannot hear music well...and seems insistent Exvind stop. Likewise he has taken Chanter into his care. He requires no price, at least till she is awake, healed, and can offer payment.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

Effort hadn't noticed the tapping on the hull because of the clamor everyone had created. He had gone about the business of providing light for people who needed it and as the job was starting to wear on him a whole lot of light came flooding harshly into the cargo bay. "Aagh!" Effort was not ready for the sudden light, the way he transformed had made his eyes more sensitive to light. He shielded his face from the searing rays of the sun and the sandy air blowing into their little enclosure.

It was evident that he no longer needed to remain in this state to shed light. The spines that protruded from his body retracted and soon he looked normal. As he was transforming back he heard a cry coming from outside. Effort looked around to get a look at who it was and wandered into the sunlight with a few others who were also shielding their eyes. He spotted the dude who had the surf board and then he noticed the music going, taking small notice of the Doctor's discomfort as he rushed out.

He looked around at everything. The downed ship, the injured passengers, the forbidding desert, the glaring sun. He threw his hands up briefly and let them fall back to his sides, a gesture of "Oh well" and trudged back into the ship to continue helping with the injured and dead passengers.


Effort changes back to normal because the big door is open and letting light in. He expresses moderate distress at the situation but continues to help passengers.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED

It had been a week since Xenoxis had left town to continue his exploration of the wastes. So far, he had come up with nothing. Six days in, though, he spotted an airship floating lazily in the sky. It was an odd sight. Sure, airships weren't exactly a new sight to Xenoxis, even on this barren fragment, but they never hung around long, let alone drifted. Not unless they were in trouble, that is. Xenoxis decided to follow it at a distance, in case a certain tribe came along thinking it sport to shoot it down. The next day, as the airship began to draw dangerously close to edge of the Abyss, the balloon holding the ship aloft suddenly began to collapse. Xenoxis, worried that the inhabitants might be hurt, and that the airship's parts might be damaged, should there be no crew left, started to make for the downed zeppelin even before it hit the ground. But before he had gone more than ten feet, the scavenger spotted another figure in his peripheral vision. Another wanderer had apparently seen the airship and decided to investigate. That's when a thought occurred to Xenoxis. "Maybe the reason the airship wasn't in a hurry was because it had been captured. Maybe the new owners, probably raiders, weren't sure how to pilot it, and that's why the balloon deflated." Not wanting to be met by a bunch of crazed tribals again, Xenoxis decided to let this newcomer take a peek.

Xenoxis crouched down, shrinking his silhouette, and crawled to the top of a nearby dune, close enough to get a good view of the wreck, but not so close as to get himself noticed. He peeked over the top and watched as the newcomer approached. It was times like this that Xenoxis wished he carried around a spy glass with him. He watched as the wanderer ran towards the vessel, eager to reach the metal carcass. Whether the man was eager to help the crew, or strip the ship, Xenoxis was unsure. Upon reaching the downed craft, Xenoxis watch the man examine its hull, first with his hands, then by tapping his staff or spear, it was too far to tell which, along the length of the hull, heading towards the front. Then the ship begins to open, revealing a hold full of people. Details lost in the crowd are made more indistinct because of the distance. However, two things are clear, these are no raiders or bandits, or rogue tribals, and they are hurt. Xenoxis waits to see how they all respond to the wanderer before deciding whether or not to go down and investigate himself.

Xenoxis follows the airship as it drifts, then, after it crashes, notices that Exvind is already nearby, and decides to wait and see what transpires.
 
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED


When Sarge handed Na'ava the marker, she felt oddly as though she should listen to him. He had an oddly compelling manner about him, some sort of confidence that bespoke of some kind of experience. She had no reason to go against his orders, at any rate, and accepted it from him without any qualm or question. For now, at least, she was relying on others, since she alone could not hope to make it out of the desert if she got on the wrong side of these people. For that, she would cooperate with getting everything under control.

Popping the cap off of the marker, she glanced around at the survivors. She had made the first few steps toward someone, intent on writing on their forehead with her marker as instructed, when some noise filled her ears. There was another protestor to the noise, whose voice she joined with her own in requesting that the horrid sound stop. It was so unnatural to her ears that she felt irritation building up inside of her just listening to it. He completely made her lose her focus for a moment and all she could think of was ending the sound. Who made such wailing noises in a hull full of people? Someone inconsiderate, she answered herself, that's who.

"Shut the racket before I make it stop" Na'ava hissed, her eyes narrowing as she glanced in the direction of the sound. If it started up again, well, she had warned him. She wanted to get outside, to see what exactly they were looking at here, but she'd been assigned a task and she could at least agree with the sentiment that things needed to be orderly. She paused next to one of the crumpled bodies, pressing her fingers to the neck before nodding solemnly. He was certainly dead. Sticking her tongue out between her teeth, she wrote in large characters a bold "P". She jabbed the body in the throat once more, ascertaining that blocked airways were not his main concern. She added a three to the end of the P and hoped that she'd done the correct thing.

This group was going to be a royal pain to organize, Na'ava considered while scrawling more P and number combinations on foreheads. They were not what one might call a harmonious group thus far and it didn't seem like there was anything in common between them except for the mutual desire to not die at the hands of those Collectors. The group could hardly have been more varied if they're tried to find people who were the least like themselves.
​
​
Na'ava takes the marker and does as she's told, while making threats to the violinist and contemplating diversity.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back