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

[Dectomax]

With the heat still glaring in the late afternoon sun, sweat soon gathered upon Marcus's brow, wiping it with one hand, he glanced around. The city was building up as they walked further into it's depths and gradually the putrid smell of death washed over everything. Putting on a grimace Marcus continued on.

Listening to the merchants chatter Marcus smiled and pointed to one of the shattered remains of the buildings. What at first seemed like another piece of debris, was infact the mutilated remains of a human, nailed to the wall. The wounds festering and the flesh rotting away; the smell was over-powering.

"We don't have to worry abou' these...people. After them gangers been through 'ere, they ain't gunna do nothin' but hovel." Marcus said.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Ashe explored what little the old building had to offer and found a little space all to herself. It was away from the constant toying and hellish experiments of Mortis. It has been sometime since Ashe has had a nice sleep and this was certainly better than most places. It was a little corner at the far end of the building where she could see the entrance. Ashe sat herself down after some dusting and slowly nodded off. Her magnum was still in her hand but she gently laid it on her stomach as she slouched against the wall.

"Just a little nap." Ashe whispered to herself.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

"Ah, not yer average town bulletin board, is it?" Irish said as he took a gander at the nailed corpse. "Well, gorra 'and it to 'em fer their creativity."

The stench was something fierce, though Irish refused to let it dampen his spirits. Today was actually turning out to be a rather interesting day for the merchant; a surprise-attack from bandits, said bandits chasing him to some Foundation-occupied aircraft shelter, Foundation-bandit firefight during which he was shot in the heel, seeing giant spider corpses alongside a helpless Foundation Paladin which was quite amusing to reflect on, all before meeting some new and interesting friends, a few with which he was now exploring a rumored cesspit of a city and would hopefully acquire some supplies.

In all, it seemed that things were turning out well enough for man that danced with death more times today than he had fingers on his left hand. The merchant began to whistle an old Irish tune cheerily as began to walk with a new pep in his step. Soon the whistling turned into humming, then shortly after he actually began to sing as if he hadn't a single care in the world...


"While in the merry month of May, now from me home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam, were nearly broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, kissed me darlin' mother.
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn and leave where I was born.
Cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins;
Brang a pair of brogues to rattle all over the bogs,
And frighten all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four, five,
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack follol de dah!

In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight next mornin' blithe and early,
Took a drop o' the pure to keep me heart from shrinkin';
That's the Paddy's cure whene'er he's on for drinkin'.
An' here the lassies smile, laughin' all the while,
At me curious style, 'twould set your heart a bubblin'.
They asked me was I hired and wages I required,
'Til I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four, five,
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack follol de dah!

In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity
To be so soon deprived a view of that fine city.
Then I took a stroll, all among the quality;
Me bundle it was stole while in a neat locality.
Something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,
No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin'.
Enquiring after the rogue, said me connaught brogue
It wasn't much in vogue on the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four, five,
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack follol de dah!

From there I got away, me spirits never failin',
Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailin'.
Captain at me roared, said that no room had he;
When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy;
Down among the pigs, did some hearty rigs,
Played some hearty jigs, the water 'round me bubblin'.
When off Holyhead I wished meself was dead,
Or better for instead on the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four, five,
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack follol de dah!

The boys of Liverpool, where when we safely landed,
Called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it.
Blood began to boil, temper I was losin';
Poor old Erin's Isle they began abusin'.
'Hurrah me soul' says I, me Shillelagh I let fly.
Galway boys were by and saw I was a hobblin',
With a loud 'hurray' they joined in the affray.
We quickly cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four, five,
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road,
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack follol de dah!"

 

[StormShaun]

As Shaun sighed at the sight he saw and questioned the moment within his head. "Why is he singing!?" Shaun thought as he quickly gazed away from the nailed up bodies feeling a wee bit safer due to Irish's singing and started to visualize what he is talking about. He closed his eyes for one second and saw lush green fields, "Will I actually go home someday?".

After a short while Shaun began to think why he was actually doing this. Why he was different from the others and why did he get rescued by them, he then quickly shook the thought from his head the stench from the city got stronger but felt safe with the two people beside him.

 

[Dectomax]

Marcus was stunned at the traders sudden outburst; being speechless at first. Looking around he noticed a few of the beggars and homeless were staring, quite intently at them. With a swift elbow to the ribs, Marcus whispered to Irish. "Y'want 'em to gut ya for your stuff?"

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

"Jaysus," Irish muttered as he started massaging his elbowed ribs. "Lay off, will ye? Ye're gonna leave a bruise. I's only singin' a song o' me proud people. 'Sides, they can try an' gut me, but I'll be damned if one o' these manky louts is the end of this ol' boyo. Aye, I've fared against worse'n these mingin', mouldy, millies."

The merchant flicked his nose with his thumb, emphasizing his last statement with the gesture as he looked over the beggars daringly. Then he turned to Marcus and asked with a nod, "So, 'ow soon 'til we gets to where we're goin'?"

 

[Dectomax]

Marcus took a quick glance around. "Not far now, the fella owns a lil' tavern by the markets. Nasty place, for nasty folk." He said, in a slight undertone. As they continued to walk into the city, buildings became more and more common as with the people. Many were covered in rags, crossing from street to street. Most were heading towards the markets to beg and trade for an evening meal.

 

[tobi the good boy]

Pale, spindly hands adorned with crisscrossing patterns the hue of violent red worked deftly atop the now cracked and crooked counter, their rhythmic flicks and flourishes moving swiftly to the faint hum resonating from behind the madman's pursed smile.

With his right hand, the morbid doctor Mortis trifled through his black medical bag, his search undeterred by the missing appendage at the far side of his palm while his left cupped a concave object flecked with orange. The androgynous maiden's search had been fruitful enough to have provided him with a conduit for his simple procedure, however; the metallic bowel was rife with rust and the arid sands of the waste.

"When I was young, the war had come..." sung the bloodstained surgeon, his voice just a breath louder than a whisper while his trembling grasp withdrew from the recesses of his dwindling black surgeons bag.

"Day after day.. the bombs had fell" chirped Mortis, his shaky, mauled, hand clasped tightly around two spools of pristine, white bandages which he gently relinquished atop that barren, broken heap of a counter.

"The mushrooms arose.. day after day." With everything laid out before him, the mad doctor began prepping his concoctions and instruments for the procedure.

"Ever so terribly..." Mortis sauntered haphazardly to the far side of the bench, sitting atop it was the pale blue liquid that the fool had used to cleanse their bloody and broken vehicle and while only a fraction of the strong smelling liquid remained, it proved itself suffice to untaint the coarse orange residue clinging to the gift of metal, his cross-dressing companion had provided him.

"Que Sera, Sera." With the makeshift 'bowel' left to filter, Mortis moved onto the next portion of the feeble surgery. The deranged doc, played with his bag of medical horrors once more, this time retrieving two small eyedroppers, one a deep, almost black, purple hue while the other was yellow and oily.

"Whatever will be, will be" Mortis, seemingly content with the decontaminated sheet metal, proceeded to empty the cleaning agent onto the sullied floors of his humble abode before pouring the clear substance from the plastic jug he had retrieved earlier into the container; water.

"The future in mine to forge..." With a great deal of caution, he applied 3 small droplets of the purple fluid into the bowels mixture, followed by two from the yellow oily dropper.

"Do not question me..." The doctor proceeded with great trepidation as he swirled the medical ichors, making sure to keep a balance between the substrates until finally it formed into a viscous paste. With his smile brimming just that sliver wider, it was clear in that demented mind that his experiment had worked and his desirable results here founded.

As the doctor began unravelling the soft wraps of sterile linen to soak in his volatile adhesive, his fingers began to feel a series of steady vibrations, their tremors growing more frequent. Soon enough the sound of a roaring engine could be heard in distance outside the crumbling walls of their hidey hole. His curiosity getting the better of him, Mortis neglected his patient and proceeded to catch a glimpse of what the wastes had in store for him.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

"Well, I think it's safe to say I def'nitely won't be eatin' from there. I've gorra feelin' wot these people call 'scrapin's' is wot I calls summat ain't fit fer ingestin'," Irish said, nudging Marcus's ribs with his elbow. "I'm sure these folk'd eat things that'd make a goat keel over. I just hope we can get this business over wit' soon enough.'"

 

[StormShaun]

A thought of annoyance swept through Shaun's mind as he heard Irish talk after attracting attention they didn't need. His eyes moved swiftly and quickly from the beggars to the traders, multiple thoughts of anger and sadness passed through his busy mind as he gazed. Shaun's attention passed back to the two as Irish talked once more.

"Well I doubt we could afford anything better with the crap we got." Shaun commented on the food as well as Irish. "And I agree that we should do what we need to do and get out of here before we attract any attention from anybody." Shaun advised as he caught up to the two after looking at the beggars.

 

[tobi the good boy]

A figure of sterile white and vile red emerged from the broken and dusted husk of that downtrodden construct of rebar and concrete, it's slender frame peaking through the silhouetted backdrop of the broken compounds interior. The pale man took one more step into that long dead wasteland, its gleaming luminescence in the sky revealing the deranged doctors visage, his nigh permanent smile wisped away from his face for the briefest of seconds as his eyes absorbed the image resting aloft that clear blue sky.

"Huh...?" breathed the psychotic surgeon as he caught glimpse of the mighty flying machine roaming the skies of the distance, it's metallic shell complimented with a pair of what looked like wings topped with a set of rotating blades. His captivation beckoned even further as the resolution improved and the metaphorical "cherry on the top" came into sight; A man, clad entirely in power armour, standing stalwart atop the beast of a machine.

Mortis casually began making his way to the humvee once the flying machine and it's rider faded behind the canopy of broken towers and buildings, peeking his head inside to commune to their gracious chauffeur

"Motor Monkey, you might want to find this hunk of metal some cover. I do believe that the angry metal man just popped on by and is looking for is toy"

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

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Ashe could still breath in hot, dusty air even from within the vehicle. The next was the smell of smoke and not the light kind. It was a heavy smoke, like it was tangible enough to go down your mouth and into your throat only to leave a bad taste in one's mouth. The vehicle shook again and Ashe saw the name of the town that she was going in, that the Black Suns had already taken.

"Let's go, girl." One of the drivers said as he pulled to a stop and opened the door. The air was once again taken by a black, heavy smoke that rose high but its smell stuck close to the ground. Ashe covered her nose and her eyes swiveled from sight to sight. A burnt down building, a burning vehicle, dead bodies, burning bodies, Aesop. He stood on his war machine like a knight on a steed.

"My child... I fetched you so you can see a wonderful spectacle." He said as he hoisted her thin body on top of the vehicle. From there, he pointed a line of ten or so men facing an open expanse that was littered with rusted vehicles and tiny craters. Next to the line of men was a metal sign with skull and cross bones smiling back Ashe. The men had their hands tied behind their backs and their faces were covered by their sad shadows.

"Why are they lined up like that?" Ashe asked.

"They're going to have a race, my dear." Aesop said. He motioned for his men and they pushed the men forward while firing in the air. The race began and at first Ashe wondered why he was going to let these men go free. That's when the leader of the pack burst in a dusty explosion. Pieces of him shot out at different directions. Soon others began to follow the same fate. Each exploding into bits and pieces from the feet up. A few tried to venture out of the bursting field but were cut down by the Black Suns from rifle fire.

"That's what happens when you try to trick the Black Suns." Aesop said aloud. "No tricks can deter the inevitable, no matter how abundant. Do you smell that, Ashe?"

Ashe nodded.

"That's the smell of the black water for our machines burning in the air. These heathens tried to keep all the black water for themselves and so they die by their own trickery. That's called irony."

"I-r-o-n-y." Ashe mumbled. She looked back towards the "race" only to see a lone man running into the expanse, well out of the bursting field. Aesop saw this too and gave Ashe a rifle.

"That was his rifle, you know? The one over there..." He motioned to the man who was lucky enough to run through the bursting field unscathed. "Shoot him. Tell me that you know what irony means."

Ashe obeyed, partially fearing what her father would if she didn't. Maybe he would make her run through the bursting field. Ashe lead the man through her iron sights. The wind blew hard, the black smoke choked her lungs, but what she feared most was her father's wrath. Better me than you, Ashe thought before the rifle cracked loudly.

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Ashe awoke from her slumber to the loud rumbles of something outside. She checked her things to make sure no one had thieved her out of anything. Luckily everything was still intact and she went forth from the room to see a partially confused Mortis walking from outside to where the Humvee was parked. Confused, Ashe went forward despite the doctor's perpetual deranged appearance.

"Mortis, what's outside?"

 

[Dectomax]

Ford looked up at the ragged doctors voice; "Motor mon-" He finished midway through the sentence as he watched the vehicle glide over rooftops. Looking frantically around the area he found a small burnt out building, gutted and long empty, and parked the vehicle under the little cover it provided.


Marcus, Shaun and Irish continued on their way through Crux, hastily walking through a warren of dusty and rat infested dens. Small shanty shacks lined the alleys and streets, grotesque looking people peeked around carpets and bits of clothe that hung over their doors as the trio wandered along. Marcus gripped his Steyr, more for reassurance than to seem threatening. "Bad neighbourhood..." He mumbled.

They continued to dodge in and out of the little alcoves and eventually made their way to an open space, a wide market area bristled with activity, lean-too's and small shacks littered the area, the smell of meat and spices, dried leather and alcohol wafted over their senses and in the middle of it all sat Fargo's bar. The building was an old two story house, archways sat on the upper levels and a balcony over-looked the markets, the bleached white walls and orange roof tiles were caked in dirt and grime, boarded windows told of many a brawl and corrugated iron sat over cracks and other openings within the structure.

"Well, there it is..." Marcus said as he pushed his way through the crowed. "Be careful of Fargo, he ain't the kinda man you want to piss off and he'd sell his own Ma if the price was right..." He continued.

 

[tobi the good boy]

Mortis watched in mild amusement as the tiny, grease coated man scuttled from the back of the vehicle and into the divers cockpit, his trajectory filled with hushed curses and frantic jolting movements that brought a genuine, albeit sadistic, smile to the mad doctors face.

Mortis watched stoically as the casket of metal roared to life, the thick ridged tracks kicking up a small dust storms in its wake, while the metallic coating of its thick hull reflected the gleaming sun into his own blood flecked eyes. As the vehicle drove off into distance, it's frame only finding comfort under the shade of crumpled arch of debris, a faint chime resonated across those arid wasteland winds and captured the attention the demented doc.

"Mortis, what's outside?" It was Ashe, her deceptive visage approaching from the darkness of their humble base of operations.

"A birdie..." Mortis cheerily responded as he pushed himself past the approaching lass, his memory fondly reminding him of the crumpled heap of meat that awaited his painful return.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

Irish breathed deeply and relished in the scents of the markets, the place where he felt most at home in this strange city. Though he was almost entranced by the familiar feel of the place, he kept watchful while navigating through the crowds, being wary of anyone with light fingers.

"Well when it comes to sellin' one's mudder, s'posin' the price is right 'n' all, the man can't be tha' bad, can 'e?" Irish asked jokingly. "I'll try to avoid pissin' 'im off, though. Tha' ye can be certain of. A man o' the coin is sure to see reason, so 'opefully we can make peace, get what we need, an' be on our merry, eh?"

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Mortis' response threw Ashe off. She peaked her head out only to see the nothing but the dust being picked up by some strong winds. The next thing is that she looked for is for Ford but he couldn't see where he had gone or where the vehicle was. The thought crossed her mind that he ran off with the vehicle. She didn't want to believe it but it seemed possible and betrayal isn't a new thing to her.

Once the dust settled, Ashe went back towards Mortis intent on finding out what exactly he had seen and to better understand the situation at hand. She walked towards his little shop of horrors, magnum in tow just in case the doctor wasn't in the mood to converse.

"Mortis! What exactly did you see out there? If its the foundation then we need to think about maybe moving some place else, don't you think?" Ashe asked the bloody doctor.