The Twisted Earth (Post-apocalyptic Role play) (Started - Closed)

[Dectomax]

Ford drove the humvee along one of the estates web of side streets, Looking for a building to accommodate. Slowly, the vehicle came to a stop and Ford switched the engine off. He looked outside of the car and pointed to a small run down shop. "We can use tha' for now, 'till you guys are ready to move." Ford said.

Marcus groaned and opened the rear door. With a sickening squelch, the corpse fell from the vehicle and slammed against the floor, leaving a splatter of blood. Marcus stepped out and over it, gripping his side. He looked to the sky, the Sun was high it must have been midday. "We can't leave this body out in the open, smell will attract mutants and others...We needa get rid of it, maybe some of the cleaning stuff can help with the smell?" Marcus said.

He walked towards the shop and pushed against the door, it opened creakily. Inside, cans and other items littered the floor. The shop must have been a general store. Shelves ran across the floor and tills were set against the far wall. What little light there was came from the cracks in the windows and patched roofing.

 

[tobi the good boy]

Mortis launched himself from the back of the dirt and bloodstained vehicle, landing gracefully as he could atop his spindly, jigsaw legs. The coarse dust and grime of the twisted wastes was a welcome transition from the sleek pools of bile and blood that had been the base for their majority of the ride to Crux. By his side was the haphazardly placed mutilated body of the stranger they had adopted on their daring escape from the dome of gruesome arachnids and militaristic maniacs, cast aside from the vehicle with callous disregard for forensic precaution. Mortis considered making a rather firm point about how to treat his 'toys' but time was of the essence, as deserted the district appeared it was common knowledge, oul' Balthy has eye's and ear's everywhere and a lump of meat that reeks of death was sure to draw attention.

"Here. I'll be busy with my playthings, use this to clean up the blood." Mortis drew a hard turquoise plastic bottle from recesses of his doctors bag and placed in the grasp of the stray merchant that had opted to join their band of arms-men in the unified cause of duress.

"Just make sure to leave enough to sterile my tools" Mortis added glibly as he grabbed the corpse with the open chest at his feet and began dragging it inside the run-down building.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

The humvee came to a stop and Irish took it upon himself to make a swift exit. His slipped his pack on and slung his rifle over his shoulder and took a deep breath, appreciating the (mostly) clean air of the city. "Well, glad to be outta tha' feckin' stink tank. It's good to be back to civili-" before he could finish his sentence, the lone survivor of the practices of 'Dr. Gangle' opened the rear hatch and stepped out, though it was not the man's exit that cut Irish short. What had, was the exit of the less-fortunate patient; the sounds of wet organs sliding against the steel, then plopping onto the ground. The sound brought forth the very thing he was trying to push out of his mind. Irish finished his sentence in a considerably less cheery tone, "-zation..."

Irish refused to look towards the source of the sounds, but turned hesitantly as he noticed the man who clambered out walking towards a hopefully abandoned shop. He shifted his pack into a more comfortable position and prepared to hustle after the man and investigate the building. However, before Irish could take one step, 'Dr. Gangle' followed suit and made a swift exit of the vehicle and soon handed Irish a plastic bottle with some sort of fluid and told him what it was for.

"Just make sure to leave enough to sterile my tools." The doc finished before going off to drag the body into the shop.

"Now 'old on just a tick," Irish called after him, "ye can't really believe I'm gonna be the one cleanin' up yer mis'ap, can ye?" The doc was approaching the building and likely paid him no mind. Irish just sighed and waved him off before turning to the humvee. "Feckin' 'Ell..."

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Ashe hopped out of the Humvee as soon as Irish had finished with his talk with Mortis. She looked around making sure that none saw the gore that had gotten on the most of their clothes. Ashe shared the same discomfort that Irish had with Mortis dragging the dead body in the building that was hopefully abandoned.

"Here Irish..." Ashe said as she lent a hand in cleaning most of the blood from the Humvee. "After this where should we go?"

 

[Dectomax]

Marcus limped around the inside of the shop, Steyr Aug in one hand the other clutched at his side. The floor was caked in dust and as he looked behind him, he could see his foot prints in the rays of light that broke through the boarded windows and broken walls. He made his way into the storage room at the back and found nothing. The place was empty, looted many years ago. Walking back out, he went to the till closest to the main door. Walking around it, something caught his eye. Looking down a small piece of paper was still attached to the desk. He picked it up and found that it was a picture. On it, a small child was riding atop his Fathers shoulders. Marcus looked at the date in the bottom right corner. 22/08/2004.

the front door opening brought Marcus back to earth, he looked up to see Mortis bringing the corpse back inside. Casting the photo aside and letting it drop to the counter, he walked towards Mortis. "There's a storage room out back, stick 'im in there." Marcus put a hand on the door, about to walk through, but paused for a second. Turning back to Mortis. "Thanks, for patching me up. I doubt I'da made it otherwise." Without a second Glance Marcus walked through the doors.

The sunlight glared in his Eyes, he raised a hand to block it for a second. Watching the trader and Ashe cleaning the truck. He walked over and peered in. "Wha' we gunna do 'bout Blake? He's gunna be pissed when he wakes up?" Marcus asked.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

"Thank ye, miss." Irish said, looking at the girl who had offered to help. He had already clambered back into the humvee, setting his pack and rifle aside. He found a scrap of cloth and doused it with the sterilizing fluid, then handed the bottle to the girl. "I don't believe we've been properly acquainted, though it seems ye've caught me name and I've yet to catch yers. And to answer yer question, I just wanna get somewhere where I can get a drink, then somethin' to eat." Irish's stomach made a low growl, almost in defiance, and he clutched his stomach as it tightened and churned. "Per'aps food first...I could eat the lamb o' Jaysus through the rungs of a chair." He chuckled to himself a bit. "In ot'er words, I'm very 'ungry."

Irish was in the middle of scrubbing some dried bile when the fortunate patient returned to the humvee and addressed the issue with Blake. "Well...I could probably try an' calm 'im down some iffen 'e's angry, then per'aps we could find out just what it were that pissed 'im off. And 'opefully with less nose-breaking..."

 

[tobi the good boy]

Abandoned shelves lined with bits and bobs of junk lay rested flimsily against the age worn walls of the tiny storage room. Cracks crept across the weathered tile floor; a spindly mosaic of a time long passed. At the heart of the dimly lit room was a counter just large enough to host the 'less than alive' guest they had adopted along their journey. Mortis' toy was illuminated almost angelically by the stream of light that seeped in from the great ball of fire resting aloft the wastes shining through broken and jagged barrier of glass on the foremost wall.

"He that toucheth the dead body of any man shall be unclean seven days..."
Mortis' words echo'd through the emptiness as he swiped his hand along the corner of the makeshift operating table, sending forth a small cloud of dust and grime that mixed with the stale stench of blood and a prosperous time long past.

"But I can't help myself..."
A smile crept across his demented features as he gently lowered his signature black bag on the edge of the now blood drenched slab. He unfastened the clips at the maw of his crimson cross emblazoned bag and withdrew an array of bloodstained, silver instruments that ranged from simple scalpels to jagged hooks and nightmarish pincers. Mortis loomed in closer, positioning a ghastly drill shaped tool just above the stranger's left eye.

"I'm just so damn curious..."

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

"I think we should put him in the building. Somewhere that has a lock. That should slow him down, I hope."

Ashe grabbed the bottle and soaked some piece of cloth with the weird smelling fluid. She dabbed the cloth in it then proceded to wipe down the metal floors of the Humvee where just a few moments ago, entrails painted it red.

"As for my name..." Ashe hesitated, not sure if Irish had heard of her before. Everyone that she's come across has heard her father's but what of the his daughter? "It's something that I'm not willing to share at the moment."

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

"Well, per'aps summat to call ye fer now?" Irish asked, a bit curious as to why she chose to remain so illusive. He held the rag out of the window as he wrung some of the blood and bile from the rag. "'Less ye don't mind just 'Miss' fer the time bein'."

 

[StormShaun]

Shaun sluggishly dragged his belongings along with himself out of the Humvee and muttered to himself, "Well that took forever" he muttered as he grabbed the rocket launcher and walked to a near by chair and relaxed himself and his weapons while being objected to the current events. The doc is crazy... He thought as he heard the current talk from Ashe and the others, "A vault would be more helpful!" Shaun chuckled in the background as he started to clean his guns.

 

[StormShaun]

Spoiler: Sorry dub post

Sorry, blame the iPad!

 

[Dectomax]

Marcus laughed at Shaun's remark. "Be 'bout the only thing that'd stop him. I say we leave him tied up, but sit 'im in the shade eh? Might take it better than being locked up?".

He looked at Crux in the distance, it was maybe an hours walk to the merchants district. "We needa pick up supplies, maybe more ammo to eh? What we gunna do with Shaun's data stick then? Blake mentioned someone who might be able to help, but I doubt he's gunna do it for free?" He raised his Steyr Aug, looking at the magazine locked into place and the empty ones sat in his webbing. "I'm down to my last thirty rounds. Not sure about you guys, but that ain't gunna get very far..."

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

"Fine, I guess somewhere isolated. That should give us a head start." Ashe said mopping up. She pulled back from the Humvee readjusting her vest. She checked what was left of her ammunition left as well. Aside from a few magnum rounds and shotgun shells, she was almost out as well and ammunition mattered more than money these days.

"We should go to the Market first. One of us should stay though, to make sure that Mortis doesn't operate on Blake anytime soon or vice-versa." Ashe looked to Irish. "Since you seem to know your way around I say that you go with the Market party."

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

Looking to the stout man, Irish recalled the box of munitions and looked down at his bandolier. "Aye, I've a few rounds. S'pose I could do with more though..." he didn't feel entirely comfortable revealing just exactly how many rounds he had. Not that he thought them unstrustworthy, it was just a level of uncertainty and caution he carried around with him; especially around people he's known for just a day. He nodded in agreement when the girl had spoken up, "S'pose there's no 'arm in tha', think I can find me way 'round this city wit'out too much difficulty. Per'aps I can also run some munitions back 'ere, though tha's only iffen ye're willin' to part wit' yer coin; I've very little meself."

 

[StormShaun]

Shaun started to talk as he was getting something heavy "Ugh, it...would be nice...to sell...ugh....THIS!" Shaun said as he put down the launcher, "...Do not worry, I have the rocket in my bag mates" Shaun said with his Australian accent. Shaun looked at the out of action Blake and felt a tingle down his spine, "Will he try to kill us when he wakes up, when that happens I wanna be in the market." Shaun said as he started to put his weapons back into his sling bag and check the status of the launcher.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

"If no one else wants then I'll look over the vehicle. I want to be the one to look over Blake and Mortis." Ashe said. She was surprised at herself. Right there she sounded a but like her father in both his voice and his command. She could have not seen herself talking like this in the past but now things were changing and the circumstances were more demanding. Ashe detested her father but what she began to see, shocked her.

"I'll need a few things before you go though." Ashe said to Irish.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

Irish finished scraping the last bit of dried blood from the humvee, then tossed the bloodied cloth aside and wiped his hands on his jeans. Looking curiously at the young man struggling with the launcher, he acknowledged his predicament. "Oh, I reckon tha'll fetch a fine price, no doubt about tha'," he said to Shaun, "but first, if ye're gonna be lookin' to me fer doin' the 'agglin', I want no less than thirty percent of what I get ye fer it." Then he turned to the girl, looking at her with a gentle, questioning look. "Aye? And what is it ye be needin', miss?"

 

[StormShaun]

Shaun listened to the Irish man's words and laughed quietly under his breath, (Never know what will happen in this dread place...) Shaun thought quickly.

"Okay, you got a deal there mate" Shaun said to Irish while he kept cleaning the launcher making sure it will fetch a good price on of the market, but he was worried what things, people and enemies that lie in the city, awaiting for unprepared new people to come in, and to try to steal from them, or kill them, either way Shaun knew he needed help to look around and the Irish Merchant was the perfect man to be with.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

"Alright, good." Irish said, acknowldging Shaun's agreement with a smile. He turned again to the young miss before she could speak up about her request. "'Old on a moment, I'm gonna go check up on the 'doctor'." Clambering out of the rear hatch, being careful to apply minimal pressure onto his heel. The condemned shop was radiating and ominous feeling, partly due to the deteriorating state it was in, but mostly due to the unspeakable things that were most likely taking place within its walls.

"I'm really gonna feckin' 'ate this, I just know it." Irish quietly muttered to himself as he approached the entrance. "Well, 'ere we go..." He pushed the door open and stepped into the dim room and it took a moment for his eyesight to adjust to the low-lighting, though the merchant soon wished it hadn't at all. A crimson trail led to the shop counters, no doubt made from the corpse that was now lying on top. Looming over the corpse was the 'doctor', dissecting him for whatever reason Irish didn't care to know. The smell hadn't bothered the him as much as it would've had he not been riding nearly the whole way to town with it, but it was, nevertheless, unsettling.

Irish cleared his throat in an attempt to grasp the gangly doctor's attention. "'Scuse me? Err...Mortis, is it? I was 'bout to be 'eadin' to the markets and I figured I'd ask ye if ye be needin' anythin'...and if tha' be the case, I'd be needin' yer money, if tha's no too much to ask."

 

[tobi the good boy]

Empty! Nothing! Boring!

With an uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm, Mortis was lowering the slender surgical blade into the aorta of the cardiac muscle before the fellow who's voice carried an odd tone came barging into Mortis' domain. The 'doctor' glanced over his shoulder, his blood-flecked eye's scanning each detail that defined the man hailed as 'Irish'. There was a sense of discomfort in his stance and speech, The extension of words and frequent pauses as the stranger's eyes caught something unsettling mixed with the discolouration his his skin were all clear indicators.

"'Scuse me? Err...Mortis, is it? I was 'bout to be 'eadin' to the markets and I figured I'd ask ye if ye be needin' anythin'...and if tha' be the case, I'd be needin' yer money, if tha's no too much to ask."

Mortis released the grip of his skeletal fingers and let the silver instrument fall into the open chest cavity of his "Prize". With a resounding sigh the doctor removed his blood soaked hands from the 'patient' and slammed them into the crimson counter.

"Nothing... I can't find anything abnormal." His voice was soft, and his persistent smile missing from his features. The doctors hand swiftly moved to the upper section of the body and gripped the remaining tussles of hair rooted deep into the dead man's skull.

"No Growths. No mutations... I was sure..." Mortis lifted his arm, and with it; rose the disembodied head of the poor fellow who perished in the ride here. The face was mutilated: the eyes removed, the centre was carved out; transformed into a macabre cross section and staples ran along the cranium; piecing the skull back together. With yet another sigh Mortis dropped the hunk of meat on the counter and started rummaging through his doctors bag.

"I'll need you to fetch me about four .30-06 rounds, If this isn't enough you can sell these, High grade medical bandages and Surgical wire, I have plenty left over."

Mortis dropped the supplies and currency in a small plastic container at the feet of the frozen man with the funny accent. As he rose the signature smile made it's return, gracing the corners of his pale lips.

"And biscuits... See if you can get me some biscuits."