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Post by TheBrobotLol on Aug 15, 2015 21:04:46 GMT
Danik Grunted suddenly as the truck's interior erupted into chaos, its alarmed inhabitants in myriad different states of shock, surprise, dismay and sturdy resoluteness. Sitting up sharply, he cursed himself for his fleeting state of inattention; already poised steadfast at the truck's end was Nathan, shotgun in hand. Not one to be called listless though, he pulled himself steadily to his feet, hands already clasped firmly around his helmet; cool and adamant in his hands. Looking up, he saw Nathan turn momentarily towards him, no doubt barking some hollow, self-satisfied quip, a loathsome grin plastered across his face. He wasn't listening anyway.
Striding purposefully forward, he inhaled sharply, and brought down the helm upon his head. For one, nebulous moment, the discord and disarray of their circumstances seemed removed; altogether detatched from himself. Through steel eyes he saw Nathan, and Jackie, Karrus and Emily, all scrabbling about, discordantly dancing to the beating drums of chaos; puppets, tangled in each others' strings. He turned again to face Nathan, his movements serene in their composure. Nathan cavorted wildly, unseen strings fiercely tugging his arms, hands, fingers as he leveled his heavy shotgun towards the unfriendly Fauna just at their heels. The puppet growled something through gnarled fangs as Danik looked on.
"Hey Danny, that one a friend of yours?"
He blinked, knuckles white as he grasped the hilt of his Kukri, body swaying sluggishly. There were no words now, there was no light, only the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums, and the sweltering blackness which encapsulated him and all things; the yawning event-horizon of pandemonium.
"You know, the ugly one on the left there. Could be a long-lost relative."
With a sudden rattling exhalation, he trudged forward besides Nathan, his contorted, distant expression masked by his steel visage, eyes gazing vacantly into nothingness. With one sharp, practiced movement he drew his pistol from its resting place at its holster, and slammed home a magazine from a pouch at his belt.
"You want an introduction, well be my guest. After-all, we may share a resemblance, but I never did inherit his good side."
With a croaking chuckle, he slowly leveled the gun, its barrel deftly tracking one of their pursuers, not hesitating as the beast ran frenziedly side-to-side, his focus unfaltering.
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Post by AegisFate on Aug 18, 2015 22:02:20 GMT
It was ten minutes until they creatures got within range, each one scrambling on four grotesque legs, their hairless hides thick to survive the world outside. Their maws opened wide with yelps and howls as they came closer and closer, even as the road moved faster beneath them. Murder had made them establish a more organized firing line, standing with his rifle raised, the compact bullpup shape clear as he slapped a magazine home and racked the slide. His companion, Katja had given Emily a compact sub-machine gun at Murder's insistence, drawing a pair of pistols herself as she readied for the onslaught.
The first one jumped at the truck, its mouth gaping wide as it tried to bite down on the first thing it came across, heading straight for Nathan. A shotgun blast from his weapon blew it away, the man who had gotten them all there declaring with a sense of finality 'Weapon's free!' as he began to fire into the advancing horde, short bursts cracked the air as the men and women of the little expedition began letting loose. Creatures fell, their bodies falling in the distance as the chase continued, monsters trying to jump into or onto the truck, a few loud bumps the corpses of a few who tried to overtake them.
Then all hell broke loose, a trio of them leaping overhead to land with a loud thump on the roof, their claws scratching into the thin steel covering as they tried to make their way inside.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 22, 2015 1:57:22 GMT
Armed with only a 6 shot revolver Jackie had fired two shots at the beasts chasing the truck, both of which had missed. Stepping back to steady her aim she saw a blur of shapes as a trio of beasts jumped onto the top of the truck and started tearing their way in. Struggling to rein in the panic coursing through her she raised the bulky gun and fired at the roof, hoping to hit something before they killed everyone.
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Post by Lord Harrab on Aug 26, 2015 7:36:04 GMT
Shortfuse felt nothing for her companions, nor her employer, the truck driver or anyone else. Keeping to herself throughout most of the ride, counting her heartbeat, casual pondering of what the future might hold and brushing off any any all attempts to strike up conversation with her. She felt numb, bored, existing only in a state of lethargy broken only by her mild amusement at the quivering bag of nerves that was the little girl who clutched her revolver like a safety blanket, Christ, what was she doing out here except waiting to die? The truck hit a bump and in that second before the wheels hit the dirt once more, Short-fuse's eyes snapped open and she grinned. The scent of a fight. Instantly she felt more alive as around her the four minor horsemen of panic, confusion, fear and shouting took hold, weapons were readied, firing positions adopted and with a song that sent her heart pounding in her chest, the gunfire started. Unfortunately her position in the truck and her short range armament meant she was stuck beside the brat and it was only when the heavy impact of bodies on the roof did she flick off her safety catch, and proliferate the metal and air above the truck with buckshot.
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Post by Draxy on Aug 29, 2015 16:35:53 GMT
There where many things that Emily imagined could help to curb her boredom, she wouldn't say that the descending horde of runners was one of them, but well....it certainly helped. The SMG she was handed by Katja felt weird in her hands. The blond was familiar with the weapon sure, but it wasn't hers, her rifle, her gun. Though she could certainly understand how a bolt action weapon wouldn't be best in the current situation.
She let out a final calming breath, before opening fire the first burst tore into the beasts side, it may not of been enough to kill it in itself but the beast stumbled and fell only to be trampled by its pack mates leaving it dead surely. She quickly switched targets to the next to repeat the process. The pack did not seem to be thinning.
"Hey!" Emily suddenly called, attempting to be heard above the noise. "How about a little competition? Most kills, right?"
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Post by Warork on Aug 29, 2015 16:41:23 GMT
"DID SOMEONE SAY FIRING LINE?!"
Karrus cackled from the back of the truck as he made his way forward, swining his heavy weapon in front of him, its pilot light leaping forward with a slight swoosh of air pressure. A savage grin of glee was on his face as well as a mischievous glint in his eye as he thumbed the safety off of the flamethrowers trigger. Others around him had already started shooting and the cacophony of gunfire mixed with the roar of the wasteland beasts was enough to make most men's blood run cold...
Karrus was not most men...Hell...he was barely human.
"Don't mind if I do!" He shouted above the noise as he leveled his flamethrower at the slobbering, snapping maws that were questing to dine on their flesh. With his free hand, Karrus lowered his glare goggles over his eyes. "Hope you boys enjoy a tan!"
He pulled the trigger...there was a guttural FWOOSH accompanied by a dragon's tongue of flame that shot out of the end of his weapon in a seething, burning mass of orange and yellow light. It enveloped the pack of monsters that was chasing them, with Karrus laughing like a madman the entire time. He watched several of the beasts fall out of line and tumble away, having been turned into living torches by the gout of fire. One enterprising monster decided to try to leap up to the top of the truck like his fellows had a few seconds before. Karrus simply adjusted his aim and caught the bastard mid air with another fiery spout.
"Smoooooke on the waaaater!" Karrus sang as he hosed the road behind the truck, slowly waving the flamethrower left and right in short spurts, alive with the glee that only a burning inferno could bring him. "AND FIRE IN THE SKY!"
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Post by AegisFate on Sept 1, 2015 5:02:33 GMT
Yelps and screams resounded, the shotgun blasts into the roof of the truck at least wounding some of the creatures, a pair of them falling from the sides. The third itself leaped forwards, avoiding the shells and a loud bang from the front of the truck signified the driver's involvement. For a moment, as the flames reached out, Karrus and the rest watching the rear could smell the burning flesh amidst the petrol the flamer launched out. The pack itself appeared to lag behind after that, the fear of fire far greater than their fear of bullets, half heard yips and yelps coming from them as they began to disappear into the horizon. Karrus could feel the glory in how he had driven off, and certainly he would brag about it in the future, even as the truck began to slow, the vehicle gaining a rather odd shaking sensation to it.
"Marik? What the fuck is going on with the truck?" Murder shouted, his only look at Karrus being one of approval for the rather judicious usage of the flamethrower, stowing his rifle away as he moved to the door separating the back from the cabin. Even though they were slowing, the landscape still passed by blisteringly fast, and the shaking felt more and more dangerous as the vehicle began to swerve and move erratically.
"Fuckers blew a tire an' I'm havin' a 'ell of a time keepin' her stab-" the man who drove them so far responded, his words cut off as a bump in the road forced their course to shift rather dangerously, the vehicle tilted to the side, riding on the edge for a few pregnant moments before the scraping noise erupted, a loud, painful screech as metal burrowed into packed dirt, the vehicle hitting another bit of resistance. With a violent lurch, the vehicle flipped, the occupants being flung rather violently from the rear of the truck.
The truck had flipped, that much was certain, rolling a few hundred feet down the path until finding its stop, perched diagonally, the frame beaten and bruised. Strewn behind it's path was debris, people and supplies, a few bags torn from the sharp pieces of metal that dug themselves into the earth.
(Carter suffering a sprained right wrist and a few major scrapes) (Micar suffering a few minor scrapes and bruises) (Karrus suffering heavy bruises and a few major scrapes/cuts) (Shortfuse suffering heavy bruises and a few minor scrapes, along with gash across the forehead) (Kincade suffering heavy bruises and a cracked rib) (Vance suffering major bruises, a cracked rib and a gash down the left arm)
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Post by Lord Harrab on Sept 1, 2015 12:59:44 GMT
From those thrown from the truck there were groans, whimpers, curses, most just lay where they had fallen, too stunned or bruised to attempt moving just yet, waiting for their body to recover enough to remember that it could move and react accordingly. To Shortfuse, the pain was blissful, almost orgasmic reminder of life and she loved every twinge and gash her body protested and warned her about, her instincts formed over thousands of years of evolution singing to her in a voice sweeter than any music. She stood up from where the crash had thrown her, shotgun still grasped in one hand as the other playfully quested and checked herself for injury. A chuckle escaped her lips, she would have several beautiful bruises along her ribs to admire, and she was fairly certain the gash on her forehead had been caused by her impact with the hard ground, but there was blood on her bayonet and a self inflicted gash of this sort wasn't too unusual from times when she had felt hollow and dead. Her grin was feral as she glanced around at her fellows, mildly surprised to see they were still alive and she reached into the medpack kept in the small of her back for a wound dressing she slapped onto the cut with casual nonchalance, the pain was welcome, an old friend, but blood in her eyes was not. Shortfuse sucked her finger in a absentminded way as she trotted towards where the truck had come to a halt, cleaning the blood from the digit as she sniffed for traces of spilled fuel that could ignite and send the truck and whatever supplies it contained up in smoke. Then as an afterthought, she hosted herself upon the truck's side and peered into the cab expectantly, mightas well see if the driver had survived, and if he had not, well he'd have gear the rest of them could use. This adventure was turning out to be worthwhile after all.
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Post by TheBrobotLol on Sept 1, 2015 15:23:51 GMT
In every direction, people were stirring. From somewhere to his left, someone yelped sharply in sudden pain, while another blurted out a pained string of curses under their labouring breath. From somewhere to his right a cacophony of grunts and groans chanted out in agonised prayer to the Primordial truth, no doubt others had fresh miseries and pains of their own, exposed nerves shredded and raw, torn flesh open to the skies. Adrenaline was flowing, blood was pumping and biological systems were working overtime to just keep people awake and aware, programmed at the basest level to deny them blissful rest. Even now, evolution couldn't help but salt the wounds.
With a rattling cry, his eyes cracked open. Scarcely a metre away, an obscure figure trudged past, a large shotgun clutched lazily in one hand. His eyes burned in the sun's glare, his gaze was unfocused, but he was sure it was either Nathan, or the hateful woman who didn't talk much. He hadn't caught the name, and didn't care much to learn it. Either way, it was best to say something to someone, and for whatever reason his side ached like hell. When he leant up abruptly in an ill-advised haste, he had meant to say,
"Hey, lady, could you give me a hand?"
But when he rose up onto one elbow, all of a sudden the words crumpled and died in his parched throat, as a barbed agony coiled up his side, rising slowly before culminating in a clear, white light at his ribs, that seared his nerves and choked his thoughts. All he did then was writhe sluggishly in the dust, before growling loudly,
"Fucking motherfucking fuck"
His gaze was malignant as he glanced around at the others, each gathering themselves carefully, some nursing wounds, others only just rising to their feet. A twinge of resentment crawled through his thoughts as he witnessed them. He saw bruises, some cuts and scrapes, but nothing significant, no one dead, no one crippled or maimed. The puppets were faltering and floundering, but soon the dance and the drums would resume unimpeded, still the strings remained uncut. But here he was, at least one rib broken or cracked, while these marionettes cavorted and smiled. The bitch with the shotgun was 'smiling'. What was there possibly to smile about?
He shuddered and groaned as his elbow slipped out from under his weight, planting him firmly in the dust yet again, while his bruised and battered back protested beneath him. Closing his throbbing eyes, he raised one bloodied hand to his face and felt the cold Steel of his helm, and the myriad scratches and cuts freshly gouged across its surface. At least he still had his head.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 1, 2015 17:55:52 GMT
Jackie shrieked as she was thrown from the truck, landing hard in the sand and dirt on the side of the road. She lay for a few moments, whimpering in pain. Slowly she gathered her wits, everything hurt, but nothing felt broken. Carefully picking herself up she checked herself over for injuries. Scrapes and bruises covered her body, but miraculously she seemed to have avoided in serious injuries. A cacophony of swearing drew her attention to the masked man who had told her to leave earlier. Wincing from the pain she slowly walked over to where he had fallen, "Are, are you okay?" She asked timidly.
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