Close to Midnight [Non-Canon]

There's a dilapidated old fishing town not too far beyond the range of Respawn, and despite the fact that it's a tired little backwater, it's still a modicum of civilization that the (human) mercenaries may visit during the off hours.
If they can get there.

Close to Midnight [Non-Canon]

Postby Penultimate Pi » Sat Aug 24, 2013 8:22 pm

{{ As stated in the subject, the events in this thread may not be considered canon to the story, although this may be subject to change in lieu of the dead space of this forum. The general premise is that some of our mercenaries (teams and species notwithstanding) have somehow stirred up some negative attention from the Innsmouth locals. An escape attempt is done in the dead of night, leading right into Lower Innsmouth, the flooded sector. Strange things are indeed amok, and we're caught right in the thick of them with nobody friendly around. What those strange things are, though... }}

It was dark out, no denying that. Not dark enough to not see, but maybe that was because of the faint lights of quiet Innsmouth behind them and the waxing moon above. It certainly set the tone of their peril as they slopped their way through the soupy waters, the poor footing underneath setting the other tone of difficult passing, where knee-deep might dive down to waist deep with no warning. Someone would be getting a cold tonight, or worse.

Josif led the way. He wasn't the only one who had thought to bring a weapon on their unscheduled outing, but he had the shotgun and was best suited to using it, so he was taking point, against all better judgements possible. The ragtag group had made a decision to not use a better light so as not to give themselves away to anyone who might end up being out of their blood. Not that it might stop such people, yet the mercenaries were both fortunate and unfortunate enough that they hadn't seen anyone tailing them yet.

The soldier, who at this point who had made it up to the second building on the left, peered cautiously around the building's rotted corner. The moonlight made a stout reflection of light upon the troubled waters, making the difference between water and building fairly obvious. Josif, though, wanted to make sure of as much of the area as he could; best not to take chances with anyone that wasn't in their group right now. Everyone else probably had their own ideas.
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Re: Close to Midnight [Non-Canon]

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Mon Aug 26, 2013 2:26 pm

Padding along behind the Soldier, his long legs and sturdy boots helping him maintain a near-consistent level of traction despite the terrain, Bryce kept glancing back towards the town, sharp eyes darting to and fro in search of an pursuers. While he honestly had no idea what had happened to cause the Innsmouth locals to become so unfriendly, he wasn't going to be taking chances of any of them getting to vent that unfriendliness upon his companions, especially this far out of range of Respawn.
Even so, he was very much not pleased with the direction they were headed, slopping their way deeper and deeper into the flooded half of the town, long since abandoned to the elements and the wild animals that found refuge in the rotting buildings.
It was heading further from base, for one, and every fiber of his being hummed with an instinctive tension, something about the place niggling at that animal inside and telling it to get the hell out of Dodge.
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Re: Close to Midnight [Non-Canon]

Postby Connal Reid » Fri Nov 22, 2013 1:49 am

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit

Connal was really starting to get the feeling that his success against the gang house back home had been a fluke, because every other stressful situation he had been in since, had more or less gone to shit. He'd had just enough alcohol to know that he wasn't thinking clearly, but was still sober enough to understand that leaving the escape attempt up to the others wasn't exactly the best idea. He didn't really know what else he could do. Even as he followed close to Bryce and Josif, his mind refused to offer up anything more helpful than it's continuing mantra of expletives.

What had even happened to get the townspeople so pissed off? Was it because of one of them at the bar? Did somebody wander off somewhere else and start shit? Hell, with how badly he was able to focus, Connal wouldn't be too surprised to hear that it was his own damn fault. That would be just his luck.

Just like it was just his luck that he decided to leave his guns behind. All he had was his fire axe, which, surprisingly, hadn't seemed to bother the locals too much. Not like he had ever grabbed hold of it; even as they waded on, it was still strapped to his back. Connal really would have preferred to have his flamethrower. It may not have had the best range, but those asshole townies would sure have gotten the piss scared out of them if he could have pulled that out. Then they wouldn't have to be running away, out to... wherever the hell they were going.

"Pssst, hey!" he hissed, feeling the need to give voice to this new train of thought, even if it was a whisper. "Where we goin', anyway?"
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