This is Their Story: Restoration

Joeyray's Bar
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Ducking into cover behind the door, my hand automatically drops to my hip, only to grasp empty air;!t, where?...
I think frantically, quickly looking everywhere for my gun before spotting it within a couple dozen feet of the ship. Without really thinking, I make a running leap for it, dive, pick my gun up out of the snow as I roll. Coming up to one knee, I put a quick 3 round burst into the remaining man's head & chest.
Man, that's two RPs my character's gotten the cold shoulder of loneliness in...

IC: Not getting a response and absolutely certain that everyone else on that ship I'd woken up on was dead, I pick a direction and start walking, climbing a hill that I'd hoped was tall enough to give me a way to survey the land around me. The entire time, I mumbled quietly to myself about the many ways I would kill the pilot if they'd survived and left me for dead rather than check for survivors. Even as I rambled though, I couldn't help but wonder how I knew how to pull a man's spine apart one vertebrae at a time.

A set of skills I can't remember getting, knowledge I can't remember learning and a name that I don't remember being given. What the hell happened? Shaking my head slowly in slight amusement, I crest the hill and look about, taking stock of everything I could see. So far it was more hills and lots of rock formations, though there was a thin trail of smoke rising into the sky a good ten miles south of me, and it wasn't from my ship. "Well then," I mutter, "into the unknown." Destination in mind, I set off towards the rising smoke, a hand on the pistol should I be attacked.
2 rounds land in each side of the man's chest, then one in the center of his face. He falls backwards and twitches for a bit before finally dying.

I walk over to them, my transparency wearing off. I want to ask if they're okay, but a part of me doesn't care...

I decide to go over anyways. "Are any of you hurt?" I say, sheathing my sword.

OOC: And a present for Zarkun

DM: The snow beneath him begins to slide. Before he can react a large mutated creature, the legs of a crab, the body of a bear and 2 heads of a wolf emerges. Along its back, and on its joints are bone spikes that look as sharp as a blade. The creature is slightly smaller than the size of a man, but is nonetheless fearsome and its howl pierces the ears of those nearby (Jerus)
"N-no ... just a little cold." I say as my psionics fade. Psionics? what the hell are psionics? I wonder to myself as I enter the wreck to try and warm up and see if I can make my suit work properly in regards to the environmental controls.
The howl had certainly caught me off guard, my mind too busy trying to push through the haze that surrounded my memory, along with the shifting snow, and it had also given me quite the headache courtesy of the howl. Leaping back from the howl, my mind shifts into a battle readiness that disturbed me to a degree. As the strange mutant moved towards me, I leap up and over it, drawing both scythes in a smooth motion and flicking the blades into an open position, landing in a roll behind it and coming up with the weapons crossed in front of me, baiting the mutant to attack again.

This time when it moved towards me, I side stepped the attack and swing both scythe blades into one of it's heads on the left side, twisting the blades and pulling them towards the front and back of the head. As it splits open, I feel a rush inside me as the blood spills onto the ground, a beautiful red liquid that improved my mood in a disturbing way. Ducking a swipe from it's spiked appendage on the side I was standing, I reach out to the red liquid now dying the snow crimson red and form two knives from it. Positioning them underneath it's belly as I roll away from another strike, I will them upwards with incredible force, the blades plunging deep inside the mutant and earning a loud, pained whimper.
The creature is incapacitated for a moment, then slowly dies, blood spilling from its wounds and mouth.

I nod and climb atop the ship and try to see anything in the distance. Far off in what I believe is north I see a road, make out of cobblestone and risen above the ground. But it is rather far, and the sun will begin starting to set soon.

OOC: So anyone who isn't with us (Zarkun is on his way, so SF and Sneak, I recommend you either meet with one another or find us, night is not a forgiving thing in this universe.)
Stepping up out out of the snow, I shake my head, heading after Oraia;
"Nah, I'm fine."
Breathing little heavier than I had been before the attack, I fold the scythes back into their storage position and place them back on my waist, noting the setting sun. I'm running out of time...Best hurry and cover as much ground as possible. Setting off at a light jog, I notice a ramp made from one of the rock formations and run up it, leaping across the formations in an effort to avoid another mutant. I also seemed to be covering distance faster, noting that there were now trees in sight in the distance.

"At this pace," I say to myself, "I should be there with in an hour or so. Thank Lord Garreth." I almost stop mid leap when the phrase leaves my mouth. Where was that from and how did I know it? Bah, more knowledge I don't remember learning. Hope this sorts itself out soon. Landing on another formation, I stop a moment and call out again. "Hello?! Is anyone out there?!"
I stepped back, appreciating my handiwork. The the walls weren't sturdy or thick, but they should keep sight and the cold off of me, mostly. A heavy sigh escaped me as I looked around to see if there was any change in the consistency of animals, but there was nothing around me. How could a play like this be bare? my thoughts echoed. With reluctance I entered the shoddy living spaces as a chilly wind swept by me. The sun was already falling from the sky.

= = = = = = = =

Oswald pushed himself up, the snow crunching beneath his weight, and if it weren't for his HE suit, his hands would have been freezing too. The marksman grabbed his dropped revolver, replacing the half empty roll's slots with four bullets. Muttering to himself as he decided to walk towards the sound of nearby gunfire, praying it wasn't from the echoing of his own gun. Though, what would it echo off of anyways? Oswald asked of himself, keeping the revolver up, as it would be easier to use in a forest than a god damn rifle.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Every step made the marksman cringe. Oswald could never possibly hope to be stealthy with the sound he was creating underfoot. Anything that wanted him dead within fifty meters would know he was coming.
I brush off a bench that was covered in a little ash and sit down. I got a quiet message that my temperature was normalizing, my suit was automatically readjusting environmental controls and that I should stay where it was warm. "Uggh what the hell happened ..." I mumble as I take my rifle off my shoulder and set it beside me having completely forgotten it in the previous conflict. I have my faceplate and in fact my entire helmet retract folding up into a small section on my back as my hair and tendrils fall feel around my face.
After a few minutes of fruitless searching, Donovan gave up on finding the figure he saw in the distance.

I wonder... if they began fighting something?

Don tightened his fist beneath his cloak.


That's a word he's familiar with. It had meaning beyond just being a few letters... it inspired something in him. For a second, he felt an overwhelming desire to unfurl his cloak in a dramatic fashion and unleash a heroic sentiment. The urge ran deep through him, a teaching and a code that he concluded he must have lived by in a past life... or currently did. Heck if Don knows.

Growing tired with the demanding task of figuring out who the hell he was, Don shoulders his cloak and begins a journey back towards where he woke from in the marsh, in an attempt to find another person.

To Don's surprise, he finds a man-made shelter built out of grassy material that he had not previously seen.

Oh right. Shelter. Survival. That would be good right about now.

Don gazes at the sun in the sky, reaffirming that the sun would indeed set at one point and he would need somewhere to rest.

"Heeeey! Room for two in there?"

OOC: @ShadowFury this is directed at Nathan
IC: "I think we'll need to get some shelter soon."
I completely forgot he made that... I am sorry... Just delete the post and wait until he responds. Once again my bad.
OOC: Totally fine, I probably should specify to make it more clear anyway :P
I resume my leaping sprint, frowning behind my face plate at the lack of response each time I'd called out. Even the wildlife had remained silent. It was worrying and disconcerting, but with the trees only a couple miles away by this point, I remain hopeful. While I knew by this point I preferred to work in solitude, my survival instincts screamed at me to find a group and find shelter, though not necessarily in that order with the sun setting.

Stopping on a rock outcrop just a few hundred feet from the woods, I realize that I would have to cross the last bit on the snow, a prospect I was less than looking forward to. How many of those crab creatures are waiting out there I wonder. Hell, I can't help but wonder if there are even any other survivors. Shaking my head at the thought, I jump out as far as I can onto the flat land and land rolling, coming out of the roll in a dead on sprint. Reaching the trees, I use one of the scythes to catch a lower hanging branch and swing up and around onto it, then scale up into the middle branches as fast as I can, not stopping to look back before continuing my leaping sprint through the branches, though I couldn't keep it up forever.

Stopping a good mile into the trees, I sit on a branch and lean against the trunk, breathing heavily and sighing. I wasn't accomplishing much at this point. Still, I was probably better off up here than on the ground once the sun set. Looking around, I decide to stay put and wait, see what came out of the night shadows to challenge me.
Having heard the yell I grip my sword tightly, but drawing it would take away from its greatest strength. I wait for a moment before I exit the small hut, my knuckles white on the hilt. "Who are you?"

= = = = =

Oswald heard something in the trees as he stumbled along. Almost like, heavy breathing? He pointed his revolver up in the air, where he had heard the sound coming from. It was a man dressed in black and red, and rather intimidating looking. "Oh sh!t, oh sh!t..." The marksman whispered to himself as he began to back away.
Hearing muttering somewhere below me, I glance down at the forest floor and spot a man appearing to be aiming a revolver at me, something that I didn't like for obvious reasons. Drawing my own weapon, the machine pistol I'd found with the scythes, and casually set it in my lap. "Do you mind pointing that thing elsewhere? Getting shot is not on my things to do today list and I'd really rather not shoot you."
Don backs away, holding one hand up.

"Wow, wow hold on! I just saw that you made some shelter, and uh, wanted to mooch. If that's okay. As for who I am... this might sound weird but I'm not sure. I know my name is Donovan, though. Donovan Iver. I... think I prefer Don though?"

Don felt around in his pockets.

"I don't have anything like food to offer but uh... I've got these round black things?" Rob said, holding out his smoke grenades.
Stepping into wreaked ship, I pull the hatch more or less closed and head over to Oraia, my suit shifting from white to a soot gray-black;
"You going to need any help with repairing your armor?"

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