Dies Irae: Main Street
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Sparrowhawke on 29-09-2012, 10:08:54</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Dies Irae: Main Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>29-09-2012, 10:08:54</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/diesiraemainsign_big.png)<br>If you have not been invited to this game, please do not post in any of the Dies Irae threads.<br>This is a <span class="bbc_u">PRIVATE</span> game.<br>Thank you.<br><hr><hr>(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/mainstreet2.jpg)</div><hr><hr><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><span class="bbc_u">Residents</span></span><br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">People who call this location their home:</span><br><em>None</em><br><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><span class="bbc_u">About</span></span><br>The main street runs through most of the surviving part of the city, ending in the bridge that connects the north and south sections. Fighting between the two main groups is common here, as it is the place where most of the remaining resources can be found. Both the mental hospital and the prison are on this stretch of road, though on different ends. The hospital is near the bridge, while the prison is further north. <br><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><span class="bbc_u">Available Resources</span></span><br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">Includes, but is not limited to:</span><br>&gt; Food (Canned) — <em>There is a large supermarket on the main street, accompanied by a number of smaller stores. While all the perishables have, of course, perished, there are still some dwindling supplies of canned goods.</em><br>&gt; Food (Fresh) — <em>Animals run rampant through the street. Many have mutated, leaving them strange variations of what they once were, but many of them are perfectly edible. So long as they don't eat you first, of course.</em><br>&gt; 'Personal' products — <em>Hygiene might not be the most important to survivors in this era, and perhaps that's why so much of these products are still around.</em><br>&gt; Ammunition — <em>While few and far between, and extremely difficult to locate, some ammunition caches still exist out there.</em>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: Main Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>30-09-2012, 20:25:46</strong>
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				It was dusk, the heavy, low clouds that choked the sky rumbling and flickering with weak lightning. There was no rain the the smog clouds, and even if there were it would just be as poisonous as the toxic air they fell from. The quickly fading light didn't bother Oberon now that his night vision was back online, but the rumbling made him twitchy. It hid the crack of gunfire and stirred memories like sediment&nbsp; kicked up in a scummy puddle. <br><br>He walked an almost familiar route, following the wide road south. It was instinct rather than conscious decision that kept him from going too close to Mysli territory. He instead kicked in the door of one building and ventured inside, gun up and ready, an icy prickling of fear running down his spine. He hated the uncertainty of exploring new areas, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He <em>knew</em> a few places that would have better alcohol than the piss the&nbsp; boss was drinking, but he couldn’t go now he was inside here, not without looking around and knowing what was here. The fear of leaving and never knowing was greater than the fear of staying and finding out. <br><br>He pressed forwards, looking around. It held the echoes of how life had once been, though Oberon couldn’t imagine it. How had anyone survived before the war ended the world? It was as odd as seeing a skeleton of a creature he had never seen in full flesh.<br><br>It made him nervous, the pocket of preserved history. He did his best to ignore how it made sweat creep down his spine, and instead edged deeper into the store, listening as much as his helmet allowed.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: Main Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>28-11-2012, 03:50:20</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/hacker.png)</div></div><strong><span style="font-size: 36pt;" class="bbc_size">. . .</span></strong><br><hr><hr><br>A rough, sharp burst of static was forced into the helm of Oberon, though it was broken just as swiftly as it came.<br><br>"What are you looking for, mate?"<br><br>The voice was unclear thanks to the distance between its owner and the target, but understandable.&nbsp; Unfortunately for Oberon, he'd find that all other communication was blocked, if he checked; his only form of company was the mystery man some many miles away, presumably monitoring his every move.<br><br>"Hmm," the man voiced, the quiet tapping of keys echoing through the microphone, "Let's see if I can get a better view, eh?"<br><br>Nearby, an ancient camera's red active light switched on and the device turned to focus on Oberon.<br><br>"...Ahh, there we are..."<br><br><hr><div class="floatright"><div align="center">TAGGING: oberon<br>PERCEIVED LOCATION: oberon's helm<br>ACTUAL LOCATION: unknown</div></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: Main Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Suiko</strong> on <strong>29-11-2012, 01:30:56</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/7MAuJ.png)<br><strong>Location:</strong> What was once a small newsstand.<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Open.</div>"Fuck, fuck, fuck... Come on you bastards..." Quiet mutterings echoed from the remains of a modestly-sized newsstand, the rustling of decayed packaging and rotten food being the sounds of someone frantically searching for something specific. Black woolen gloves (minus a few fingers) scrabbled about amidst the remains of what was once freely and easily sold and dark eyes were narrowed in clear irritation as Mik struggled to find his quarry.<br><br>He could have been out scouting for food, or safe drinking water or medication, but he was in fact seeking something much more important. The one thing, sex excluded, that gave his life any shred of pleasure. Cigarettes. The thought that even if he did find any they would be long-since stale didn't occur to him as he frowned deeply and rose from his crouched position behind the counter. Hands brushed down faded dark blue jeans and he groaned loudly, blinking upward at the disheveled shelves.<br><br>"Fuck sake... Not one cig anywhere... Just one... Come on...!" Even angry as he was he had the sense to keep his shouts to a moderate level. He was hardly a fighter, and being so far from the base was dangerous, but even so he couldn't help but search. He needed to feel that lovely inhale of sweet, lung-clogging tar again. Just one more; he'd quit after.<br><br>He bent over the counter and rifled through the drawers, finding nothing more than a couple of dead rats which only further soured his mood. This was a bust, just like the stand before. He pondered heading to the large store, but that would be too obvious, too dangerous without backup and so he resigned himself to continuing to scurry between small stands in search of a smoke. He pulled the dark brown hood over his head, glancing about briefly before lowering his body and jogging across the large, empty road to the opposite side.<br><br>"Come on... This time. I've got a good feeling. Come on Lady Luck..."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: Main Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>29-11-2012, 22:52:49</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 36pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: andale mono;" class="bbc_font">MACK</span></span></div><hr><hr><div class="floatright"><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: andale mono;" class="bbc_font"><span class="bbc_u">LOCATION</span><br>Prison Dining Hall;<br>Entering Main Street<br><br><span class="bbc_u">TAGGING</span><br>Mik</span></strong></div></td></tr></tbody></table></div>Mack passed out for some time after his encounter with Oberon.&nbsp; He'd collapsed in his 'throne' -- an old electrocution chair draped in rags -- and left consciousness shortly after, the bottle of vodka gripped firmly despite his absence.&nbsp; When he woke, perhaps an hour or so later, he couldn't remember having seen Oberon, that day, and the bottle in his hand was a welcome taste on his lips.&nbsp; He stood and wobbled off to his room, dressed in his tech-suit, and left the prison with a mission: to hunt down Vern.<br><br>Of course, Mack knew better than to go after the man directly, but that didn't mean his mangy crew wasn't wandering around out there with secrets.&nbsp; There was a perfect opportunity with the lull both sides had been experiencing to expect men with their guards down; if he could just snatch the right one...<br><br>He held his rail gun at the ready, not stupid enough to think the streets were safe, and headed through an alleyway as he approached Main Street.&nbsp; The area was prime for scavengers, and he was lucky to have his infrared scanners pick up on heat a few blocks down straight away.&nbsp; He couldn't help the smirk that spread over his lips, marking the location on the map his helm generated before heading back into the alley, and then up to intercept his target.&nbsp; The overhead rumblings helped to disguise his slow, careful footsteps, though that didn't necessarily mean he was completely unhidden.&nbsp; The man seemed to be looking for something and found himself rather unfortunate; he was desperate, even, and thus Mack's chances skyrocketed.&nbsp; He was an easy target, <em>and</em> he recognized him as Vern's medic.<br><br>If deities existed, they were on his side.&nbsp; He powered his rail gun and stepped from the nearest alleyway, speaking through his mask to his potential victim.&nbsp; "Stand slowly and follow me or this rail goes through your skull."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: Main Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Suiko</strong> on <strong>30-11-2012, 00:07:51</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/7MAuJ.png)<br><strong>Location:</strong> Newsstand. About to find himself in a bad situation <br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Mack.</div>It seemed today wasn't his day. Normally he happened upon something useful or a lovely little treat like some sealed chocolate, but no matter how long he searched around what was the fifth... or sixth newsstand, he turned up empty. He was glad that at least he hadn't told anyone he was going on; he wouldn't have to explain how he was empty-handed when he returned. "Some God fucking hates me..." He grumbled, straightening up and glancing around for a brief moment to check for any danger before returning to his task.<br><br>Maybe he was foolish to be so careless, but the street was so open and so quiet. Not even the animals seemed to be lingering around at that moment and so he was secure in the knowledge that he would be able to hear anyone approaching.&nbsp; He was usually more quiet and more weary of venturing out alone, but his desperation for a smoke had reached the point that it was undeniable and he groaned softly, running a hand feverishly through his hair. <br><br>Hm?&nbsp; He glanced back over his shoulder where he was crouched with a small frown. Had he heard something? A shadow of a sound? For a moment he continued scanning the area before shrugging hiatus shoulders and dismissing it as paranoia and returning to the task at hand. It was only when the faint click of the gun being readied somewhere behind his head that Mik was suddenly sure that someone was there, and by that time it was much too late, even if his fingers had curled around the handle of his pistol. He didn't know where the man was who spoke, and he had no doubt whatever weapon was directed towards his head.<br><br>"Fuck..." He hissed quietly, gritting his teeth as he slowly rose to his feet and kettles the hand drooling from his gun before turning slowly to see just who had spotted him. Shit. His gaze flicked over the armour that hid the identity of his would-be kidnapper; it hardly mattered just who it was, their allegiance was obvious and Mik's stomach clenched.<br><br>"Is there any point? You're probably just going to shoot me anyway..." Even as he spoke he edged towards the other man, frowning deeply. "If you're going to shoot me then get it over with. I'm pissed off enough without you adding to it..."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: Main Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>30-11-2012, 05:50:12</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 36pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: andale mono;" class="bbc_font">MACK</span></span></div><hr><hr><div class="floatright"><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: andale mono;" class="bbc_font"><span class="bbc_u">LOCATION</span><br>Leaving Main Street;<br>Entering the Prison<br><br><span class="bbc_u">TAGGING</span><br>Mik</span></strong></div></td></tr></tbody></table></div>Mack grinned darkly behind his mask as he watched his new captive move and listened carefully to each word; it was horribly amusing how obvious it was the man had no idea who he was.&nbsp; Mack as more cunning than he looked, on most days, especially with liquor factored in.&nbsp; He couldn't waste such an easy prey, nor would he want to waste a rail on a single man.&nbsp; He allowed a laugh to filter through his helm as he fixed his gun on his back.&nbsp; Two powered fists gripped Mik's arms and brought them back before clasping a set of old cuffs on his wrists, bound with a small fingerprint reader to keep any untrusted men from setting him lose.&nbsp; He used the man's hair to guide him, his grip threatening to rip the follicles from his skull, and then some.<br><br>"How about you shut the fuck up.&nbsp; I won't shoot you unless I have to, prick."&nbsp; He'd near-drag Mik to the prison if he had to.&nbsp; "I have more uses for you alive than dead, though I s'pose you'd make a few of my men's stomachs happy if you decide to fight..."&nbsp; There was no telling if he was kidding, his tone as serious as if he were delivering a death message to family members.&nbsp; Behind the mask, however, there was a sick grin.&nbsp; As he made his way to the base, he alerted his men to his return, and to his findings.&nbsp; He ordered them to open a cell up and throw in a bucket of water and some food; he was even nice enough to add a pillow and blanket to that list, though not much more.&nbsp; The man was going to stay with them for a while, so they had to make sure he wasn't going to die on them.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: Main Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Suiko</strong> on <strong>30-11-2012, 18:44:30</strong>
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				Mik grimaced as he felt the powered fists tightly grip his wrists and jerk then backwards, staggering slightly under the physical strength used in the movement. "Ah, fuck! You got me... No need to disclose my fucking arms..." He muttered quietly, an eyebrow twitching at the clip of the cuffs fastened tight about his hands to keep them secured. A brief feel with hiatus fingertips told him he wouldn't be squirming hiswway out of them anytime soon and he grimaced at the joke -he hoped it was a joke- about his corpse making a good meal for the other men. Wait. 'My' men?<br><br>"Your men?" He voiced, glancing over his shoulder with the first expression of nervousness since he'd been captured. Shit. If he'd been stumbled upon by one of the higher-ups, fuck-knows where he'd end up, or what would happen to him when he got there. "Nngh!" Mik grimaced at the harsh grip upon his dark hair, his head arched back under the unnecessary force used to march him along the street; further away from safe territory.<br><br>Shit. Even Mik could admit that he was rather roundly fucked.&nbsp; No one knew he was out of the base and how long would it be before anyone even realised that fact? He didn't like being on his own so far out of familiar places and his heart shudder wildly within his chest as he continued to move, his eyes flicking left and right to try and remember even vaguely the route.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: Main Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>18-02-2013, 04:07:34</strong>
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				The sudden crackle of static made Oberon gasp in surprise, twisting slightly in brief-lived panic - he had, for in instant, seen huge insects with chittering pincers and bodies of slick, gleaming armour, seething over the counters and coming at him - <br><br>but it was only his imagination, and there was nothing at all to be seen but relics of life as it once was. <br><br>He didn’t recognise the voice that followed the rasp of empty air, and he growled, “Fucking piece of -” before he saw the camera light flick on, and twist around to him. His gun twitched up towards it instinctively, though he didn’t squeeze the trigger. “...what... fucking...” He stopped speaking for a moment, looking away from the camera, peering around. Expecting an ambush after the distraction. <br><br>“It is a good trick,” he said, once he was sure no one was creeping up on him. “Clever. It...” He noticed, finally, how there was no signal bars on the Krovi secure network. Everything was dead. “That piss filled bag of a mechanic is going to choke on his own radiation withered balls!”&nbsp; &nbsp; 
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