Post by AegisFate on Aug 4, 2015 1:52:31 GMT
Day 1: A Ride to Nowhere
They met up after the three days passed, each and every one of them looking at each other, some with anticipation, some with detached curiosity, and perhaps some sadistic glee, but for the most part, the man named Murder who gathered them together dominated the conversation, the silent specter of a woman following him around introduced as Katja. His appearance was different from the casual man smoking a cigarette in the hangar, sitting on a disused crate, talking at length about the dangers in the waste. Now he was decked out in full gear more fitting on a soldier from times long past than a hunter, various trappings of his craft leaving little to the imagination, a compact bullpup clipped to his vest, the weapon looking beaten and well used, but belying its capabilities, a bulky backpack on his shoulders, a few patches here and there on the rough and tumble fabric. His companion was loaded similarly, although she was more lightly loaded. The room itself was one of the many planning rooms used by traders, hunters and other travelers to the outside of Icarus, a few crates recently moved in serving as an impromptu table.
Murder cleared his a throat for a moment, pulling out a map from a vest pocket, the material faded and worn, various additional sketch marks added over time to the original map to denote things as of yet unknown. His voice was the same firm tone, most likely little used over many years, his companion still silent. “Here's our travel plan. We're heading to The Smithy in order to get ready for an expedition across the Scar, as I told you all before. Our timing is not the best, as this time of year, the bandits get a little more bold with the Consortium buttoning up for the Season of Storms. Most folk don't want to take an auto out this close either, so we'll be taking a truck to about here,” he motioned to a spot on the map, “From here, we'll be on foot, to keep a low profile in bandit territory. If all goes well, we should be to the Smithy before the first storm hits.”
“Why not go through here instead of taking the road?” Karrus asked, the planned route going around a large area listed only as 'The Dead City.'
“Too dangerous. Its a breeding ground for a ton of Crawler nests, and you don't want to wake thirty of the bastards up at once because you brushed up against something wrong. We go on foot through the regular route, and that's final.” His response was harsh, as if scolding a child, before he turned to the rest of the gathered, packing the map back up before pulling the lid off the crate he was using as an impromptu table. He pulled the lid off and motioned inside, various pieces of basic equipment, gas masks, filters and compact radios occupying most of the space inside. “Take a mask if you don't have one, five filters per person and a radio for everyone.”
-Thirty Minutes Later-
“Yer lucky I'm jus'o nice 'nuff to give ya a ride in this time 'o year,” a man grunted at Murder, his hair gray and his vehicle battered and possessing a multitude of additional repairs. The machine itself appeared to be a standard merchant caravan truck, with a large covered bed attached to the main cab of the truck for goods, people or weapons. “This 'ta last favor yeh be gettin' though Murder, las'one 'ad me cleanin' squealer guts outta the grill fer weeks.”
Murder nodded, motioning to the rest of the party to embark, his companion lifting a crate into the vehicle as well. The inside of the vehicle was relatively well kept, four cots, two to a side with one over the other present. As they all shuffled in, he spoke up, “Twelve hour watches, four per watch, get some sleep otherwise. Nathan, Danik, Jackie, you're on first watch with Katja, the rest of you will be with me.” With that he rapped the door leading to the front cabin and the vehicle roared to life, its engine cycling up before settling at a dull hum, a jolt of movement announcing their acceleration.
Slowly as the truck left the enclosed area that was the Gash's major exit point, did they see the outside world. Through faded windows, a massive plain of dark orange grass expanded endlessly, only interrupted by a few rocks jutting outwards and a multitude of twisted metal spires in the distance, the hulk of Icarus behind them, its scorched hull slowly being taken over by verdant creeping vines, the harsh sunlight beating down on those below.
It was truly a world few cared to know about from the safety of Icarus. It was a world touched by man's sin.
They met up after the three days passed, each and every one of them looking at each other, some with anticipation, some with detached curiosity, and perhaps some sadistic glee, but for the most part, the man named Murder who gathered them together dominated the conversation, the silent specter of a woman following him around introduced as Katja. His appearance was different from the casual man smoking a cigarette in the hangar, sitting on a disused crate, talking at length about the dangers in the waste. Now he was decked out in full gear more fitting on a soldier from times long past than a hunter, various trappings of his craft leaving little to the imagination, a compact bullpup clipped to his vest, the weapon looking beaten and well used, but belying its capabilities, a bulky backpack on his shoulders, a few patches here and there on the rough and tumble fabric. His companion was loaded similarly, although she was more lightly loaded. The room itself was one of the many planning rooms used by traders, hunters and other travelers to the outside of Icarus, a few crates recently moved in serving as an impromptu table.
Murder cleared his a throat for a moment, pulling out a map from a vest pocket, the material faded and worn, various additional sketch marks added over time to the original map to denote things as of yet unknown. His voice was the same firm tone, most likely little used over many years, his companion still silent. “Here's our travel plan. We're heading to The Smithy in order to get ready for an expedition across the Scar, as I told you all before. Our timing is not the best, as this time of year, the bandits get a little more bold with the Consortium buttoning up for the Season of Storms. Most folk don't want to take an auto out this close either, so we'll be taking a truck to about here,” he motioned to a spot on the map, “From here, we'll be on foot, to keep a low profile in bandit territory. If all goes well, we should be to the Smithy before the first storm hits.”
“Why not go through here instead of taking the road?” Karrus asked, the planned route going around a large area listed only as 'The Dead City.'
“Too dangerous. Its a breeding ground for a ton of Crawler nests, and you don't want to wake thirty of the bastards up at once because you brushed up against something wrong. We go on foot through the regular route, and that's final.” His response was harsh, as if scolding a child, before he turned to the rest of the gathered, packing the map back up before pulling the lid off the crate he was using as an impromptu table. He pulled the lid off and motioned inside, various pieces of basic equipment, gas masks, filters and compact radios occupying most of the space inside. “Take a mask if you don't have one, five filters per person and a radio for everyone.”
-Thirty Minutes Later-
“Yer lucky I'm jus'o nice 'nuff to give ya a ride in this time 'o year,” a man grunted at Murder, his hair gray and his vehicle battered and possessing a multitude of additional repairs. The machine itself appeared to be a standard merchant caravan truck, with a large covered bed attached to the main cab of the truck for goods, people or weapons. “This 'ta last favor yeh be gettin' though Murder, las'one 'ad me cleanin' squealer guts outta the grill fer weeks.”
Murder nodded, motioning to the rest of the party to embark, his companion lifting a crate into the vehicle as well. The inside of the vehicle was relatively well kept, four cots, two to a side with one over the other present. As they all shuffled in, he spoke up, “Twelve hour watches, four per watch, get some sleep otherwise. Nathan, Danik, Jackie, you're on first watch with Katja, the rest of you will be with me.” With that he rapped the door leading to the front cabin and the vehicle roared to life, its engine cycling up before settling at a dull hum, a jolt of movement announcing their acceleration.
Slowly as the truck left the enclosed area that was the Gash's major exit point, did they see the outside world. Through faded windows, a massive plain of dark orange grass expanded endlessly, only interrupted by a few rocks jutting outwards and a multitude of twisted metal spires in the distance, the hulk of Icarus behind them, its scorched hull slowly being taken over by verdant creeping vines, the harsh sunlight beating down on those below.
It was truly a world few cared to know about from the safety of Icarus. It was a world touched by man's sin.