The Deadland

So, 'people of Asper'. It sounds like you're all getting the hang of fighting, and I'm sure you can be proud of yourselves for that. [ or whatever. He's hidden his sarcasm well, and mostly just sounds affable and amused. ] But we're not a pack of savages. There's more to civilisation than killing things. The theatre, for example. How many of you have even heard of Shakespeare?

[ and a brief pause later ]

What I'm saying is, who'd be interested in putting on a performance with me.

It is noon.

The TVs turn on to static, and the creatures start to attack.

Each monster when killed has a chance of dropping a random item, or a special item: Energy & 5 Fish Scales. Not every kill will drop something, but more likely than not it will drop at least some Energy.

[ ooc: Hi guys! We're testing out something new this week. Please comment in this post to fight the aggressive, Energy-dropping monsters out and about in Asper today! This in lieu of a whole new post for every person who wants to play out their character collecting items/Energy. Thank you. ]

Hey! [She stops and giggles, radios are so much fun.] This is Jade Harley!

Uh-- What's that they say? Rodger? Over and out? [More giggling. Teeheehee this is so much fun.]


[action]

[if for whatever reason you're out in this godforesaken town, you might find Jade, darting around from building to building, looking for other people! She's being sneaky-sneaky, since she already had to deal with a few monsters, but you can still spot her as she darts around corners and things, her long hood trailing behind her.]

--- radio ---

[ there's a bit of crackle on the channel before a voice, mellifluous and utterly calm, starts broadcasting. monsters everywhere? psh. that's a minor concern compared to other things. ]

It's all a very interesting game. Familiar, too, in a way. Asper the board, we the pawns, and the synergy between each piece will be what brings about the salvation and success of this faltering world.

he pauses for a moment before he chuckles lightly ]

But it makes you wonder: who, exactly, is moving us all?

--- action ---

[ and for those who might be near the department store and happen to chance a peek inside, they might see a man with a pair of bloodstained scissors in his hands and a faint smile on his face. there is the smallest puddle of blood near his feet, in which lies in the corpse of a puppycat. look closely enough, though, and you might notice that a few usually prominent facial features seem to have gone conveniently missing... ]

Actually Shion thought sticking with the others in the apartments would be the better idea, after all there wern't many of them and a lot of monsters, and surely helping each other out would be much easier than everyone going alone. But of course this was Rat so Shion really wasn't surprised. Allen had gone and Rat walked off in the opposite direction. Shion looked down at the mouse at his feet and picked it up. "Come on then Horatio," he hurried after Rat.

The sounds of monsters had become almost normal and none sounded too close... as long as they got inside quickly. "Where are we going Rat?"

Outside the bakery on Mercy Cross there are several bits of the attacking beasties thrown about, namely arms and legs and chest cavities and whatnot, chopped up much like you’d expect from the butcher next door. And one of the front plate glass doors is bent, tempered glass crinkling and cracked in spider-web like designs as its nearly off its last hinge. Through the blood there isn’t a trail of any footprints inward, though there is a man inside the bakery, packing loaves of bread into a large brown paper bag with a strawberry danish between his teeth. If money only mattered, he’d be into the cash register as well.

In a black long sleeve shirt, one sleeve pulled back to his elbow and a pair of dark jeans, he’s finally changed out of his white sleeved jacket to something a little more inconspicuous to rummage around the shops in. And even this inconspicuous outfit is splattered with a bit of blood.

[ when Rat can focus again against the lurch and shift of worlds and consciousness, it's the smell that hits him first. The overwhelming stench of rotten flesh and clotted blood, offal and bacteria. And the rust of iron.

When his vision slides back, he recognises the cage for what it is. What he doesn't recognise is the pile of meat that must have been a large animal at some point in the past. He's used to dead things, though, and after he remembers to breathe shallowly and through his mouth, he can occupy himself with working out a way out of the cage some bastard left him in.


An hour or so later, and he's exhausted himself trying to break the lock with alternatively a large rock and a shard of femur. It's only after this resounding failure that he deigns to try the radio. ]

Someone want to tell me why I'm in a fucking cage?