[Minibit] Colosseum [Mglo]

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Minibit, Aug 20, 2014.

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  1. A clap of thunder shook the rocky wall Fane was leaning against, shaking it to its foundations, reverberating through her spine and shoulders, down to her fingers on the hard earth. She had her eyes closed, listening to the storm.

    The storms were intense here; and near-constant. It was the only comforting thing about the place, to her mind. The atmosphere was thick and cloudy, and constantly held a faint odour, like a plant was rotting somewhere. But there were no plants here; none that would rot, anyway. All that she had found seemed like they were more likely to crumble into dust than go through any other kind of decomposition process. Thistles, thorns, and bits of dry moss were all there were to be found within a day's walk of this place. No, if anything grew here, it was stones. Gigantic stones, chunks of mountain and cliff possibly struck asunder by the constant storms.

    The air crackled with static, and sent a shiver crawling across her skin, causing her scalp to prickle as her tangled black mop felt like it stood up on her head. If there were only a breath of wind, it might have felt like home. Mobius was always under electric storms; the jade-green skies were positively crackling with them, dying down only at night; whipping winds and storms had necessitated the magnificent domes which enclosed the cities in carefully-venthillated peace. But outside the domes, moving people and things between cities, especially travelling by air instead of the swampy, treacherous land, that was when you really got to experience the true wonder of Mobius. Fane sighed as she leaned her starved back against the wall of piled stone, waiting for the next thunderclap. She should have been sleeping; this being what passed for 'daytime' on a planet with three suns that they'd seen so far. It never really got Dark dark, but there was definitely a cycle when the fog got thicker and the shadows deeper, and that was when the things came out. The things that necessitated the wall, the things that had necessitated grouping in this camp, the things that Fane stayed up at night to help fight off. They didn't know if they had a proper name; everybody on site just called them the Jackals. She didn't know why; there was no such word or thing on Mobius; and the person who suggested it admitted that they looked nothing like the creature which served as their namesake. However they were dark in colour, frightening, and they did prey on the weak and dying. So she supposed the name was not totally inappropriate.

    She'd learned of many new things since her 'arrival' who knew how long ago. There was no real system of keeping track of time here. She'd tried making marks on a stone, but gave it up after about eighty. There were a few people who were newer here than her; most of the rest of that group had died on arrival. Someone in camp was a doctor, said that they'd been subjected to some kind of incredible shock. Fane remembered feeling dizzy and nauseated, and passing out almost immediately upon finding herself in this place, but nothing about how she got there. No one seemed to remember that.

    Someone tripped over the toe of her worn leather boot, and she startled back to alertness, scowling angrily after whoever had done it. It was difficult to tell though; everybody seemed to be moving in one direction. Shifting her focus from the storm to the hushed murmur of what passed for a crowd, she heard words of new arrivals, strangers, and new blood. Gathering herself up, she dusted off her ragged clothes as she followed along to 'the landing site' just outside camp. Everyone seemed to drop in the same spot; an unfortunately sharp crag about twenty meters from the camp. Measures had been taken to level the turf after someone 'landed' right on the edge of the crag, fell over, and promptly split their head on the rocks below. They didn't die immediately; it might have been more merciful if they had. Still though; no one arrived in tip top shape. Whatever it was that plucked them from their homes and dragged them to this waste did a number on them by itself, without being dropped into a world of noxious fumes and hard stones.

    As she exited the temporarily-open gap in the wall, Fane hefted the leather coil at her side. She wished she'd been carrying something more useful than a winda bridle when she'd found herself somehow transported here, but there wasn't much to be done about it. And, properly rearranged, it made a serviceable whip and rope. Looking at the density of the fog, she guessed there was a while yet before the Jackals would come to try yet again, but just to be safe she picked up a sharply-angled rock as she passed it and started tying the end of the long strap around it as she walked.
    #1 Minibit, Aug 20, 2014
    Last edited: Sep 30, 2014
  2. A loud crackling woke him up. The ground was still trembling from the loud roar as he swallowed his own saliva and moved to lift his head from the cold hard ground. He recoiled from the sharp pain it provoked and laid his head back on the ground. His head felt like it was splitting into several pieces all of them painfully resisting to stay together.

    "This one's bleedin'. He done cracked his head a bit" he heard someone say. With a frown he quickly reached up with one hand to feel his own head and opened his eyes wide with the horrifying thought of having a broken head. Except, he soon noticed, the bleeding one the voice had been talking about was a man a few feet away from him. His body was was intact but his head had landed awkwardly on the edge of a rock. He was bleeding a lot. Thunder roared in the background loud enough to startle him and send another jolt of electrifying pain. A set of hands pulled him up just then, half dragging him away. The air smelled musty and damp and his head pulsed as if with every pulse it expanded and doubled in size.

    "What happened?" he managed to say but there was too much of a commotion and a near constant thundering that no one seemed to hear him. It seemed they were caught in a storm, a very severe storm by the sound of it. He was finding it hard to breathe but it seemed to be more because of the air or wind around him than because of his lungs. Sure, his body felt heavy and sore and he felt sick but if they were ignoring him for the most part, then his injuries were unlikely to be serious. Still, he wondered why so many where out in the open instead of taking shelter from the storm. The static made his straight hair rise like it was never prone to do. He felt the danger of it all but couldn't quite move on his own even though he could sense his pain and therefore his body. His mind was confused, he figured he had a concussion or something along those lines because the pain prevented him from being able to focus. The light hurt him and each breath disoriented him. He really didn't want to throw up. Anything but that.

    After a moment of holding on to his head between his knees he desperately cried out "HELP! I can't - someone!" but he couldn't go on as he began to hyperventilate. It was then that someone gently rubbed his back and likely saved him from slamming his own head into the ground just to make it stop.
  3. When Fane approached the arrival area, there were already a few people milling about. One, bleeding from the mouth and eyes, was being made a great fuss over. Cringing as she observed the way he struggled against those trying to sit him up and get a rag over his mouth - this wasn't the first case that seemed to have reacted badly to the atmosphere of this place.

    She was wondering if he'd survive long enough to get to the camp when an outburst from behind her caused Fane to turn around. Attention diverted by his shout, one of the men fussing over the internal bleeder shouted for a bandage and waved vaguely at the other one. Had she not been standing within arms reach, she probably wouldn't have heard. There seemed to be five survivors in all, and those who hadn't bloodied themselves 'landing' were groaning and demanding answers through a haze of dizziness and nausea.

    With no bandages handy, Fane tore a strip from the arm of her shirt. It was easier than she expected, but then this wasn't exactly a new shirt when she'd arrived, and it'd seen some wear since then. She tried to be careful wrapping it around the survivor's wound, but she doubted any way of doing it would be comfortable.
  4. Dwilas rubbed the poor fellow's back while he surveyed the area for anything useful the new arrivals might have dropped. He looked to the side and saw Fane already at work on a bleeding mass.
    Dwilas was a big guy. He was strong and warrior-like. Back at home things had been much simpler and he'd been a strong believer of the idea that the strong survive and take what they want because it is their divine right. Since he'd arrived here, he'd thought it through. After all, he found it harder to believe in now that he wasn't at the top.

    The fellow whose back he was rubbing looked weak. He was long but not as tall as Dwilas. He lacked muscle, he thought. His fingers where long and smooth, probably never worked a day in his life. Dwilas shook his head, he was sure the poor fellow wasn't going to make it for long.

    He called over to Fane, "What do you think? You see anything useful?"

    The pale fellow groaned next to him. This place took some getting used to. The man was dressed in sleek blue navy and grey, all very form fitting and elegant although Dwilas would call it strange and uncomfortable. His hair, if hair is what you called it, was black and feathery. Dwilas had yet so see his face since the frail looking thing was too nauseous to lift his head from his knees.
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