caveofsapphires | smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

WHO: EVERYONE. All PCs thus far will be in this log, through active tagging or implication.
WHAT: THRILLS. SPILLS. Hiking trip toward the Diamond City.
WHERE: The Overworld.
WHEN: Forward-dated to May 1st (Tuesday) through May 7th (Monday).
WARNINGS: May contain violence or other mentions of physical harm. This is not summer camp.
NOTES: More information can be found on the OOC post here. Please read it!

Gathered in the morning haze, Sleepers were brought to the mouth of the Cave with plenty of supplies and equipment. Compasses that would point them toward the City. Backpacks full of clothes and food, medical kits, tents and even weapons. Stun rifles and knives — to fight off any unwanted company, they said. ("Watch out for their bite," Ryan had commented. "Those fuckers are downright feral.") The straight and narrow path would get them there in six days if they kept a good clip. They were sent off just like that. Refusals to leave were met with a wall of guard force officers blocking the entrance back into the cave city. No way to go but forward, unless someone was particularly stalwart about remaining.

From the exterminator's station near the mouth, leaving the Cave was as simple as a short hike upward into the fresh air of the Overworld. Dust and an uncomfortable sort of heat pervaded the atmosphere, light winds stirring up the sand and teasing the meager bits of vegetation that had grown. No matter what direction you looked... it was all wasteland, cracked ground and desolate emptiness. Jutting up from scarred ground were boulders and small spires made entirely of glass and patches of stone; instead of reflecting the harsh sunlight, they seemed to absorb it and only add to the muted loneliness of the atmosphere. As far as the eye could see, there was no life to be found.

With no other option, the Sleepers eventually made their way onward.

He'd heard it too, had felt it vibrating through his exhausted limbs, some strange, unidentifiable sound moving steadily closer to their location. He may have had no idea what the sound signified, yet he was under no illusion that it could be anything good. This place had been little better than a living nightmare since the day they had set out, and he didn't see any reason for that to change now.

He turned in the direction of Malcom's voice as he shouted out, coming to a restless standstill; his instinct when faced with a potential threat would always be to run, but he had no intention of cutting himself off from the rest of the group, not when hi survival skills in a wilderness like this were so completely abysmal.

"Sure, I here it."

"I think it's coming from that way," he said, motioning with the barrel of his weapon. "At least it's not a storm," he added, with dry humour. "And it's certainly not a beast."

The identity of the creature making the noise wasn't a secret for long. Running up to the Sleepers was some sort of mechanical being, pale gold and wielding a blade in its left hand. It wasn't much larger than a human, but it still looked intimidating, even as it stopped for a moment and studied its surrounding like it was confirming it had found what it was looking for.

Which wasn't good for anyone because apparently to the robot, finding the Sleepers meant it was going to start trying to mow them down with its blade. And that meant it was planning on starting with the obvious threats first, like Malcolm and anybody near him since he had his weapon out.

He'd intended to suggest that while it may have been neither of those things there was no telling whether it'd be something worse instead, the words poised to roll from the tip of his tongue even as the blade-wielding robot came into view. His eyes narrowed and he took a tentative step back as it paused, breathing out an irritable huff of air as though they were facing some minor inconvenience rather than something potentially life-threatening; the events that had befallen them since they'd been forced to leave the Cave had seemed so surreal to him that he would have been tempted to believe he was dreaming now, if it wasn't for the ache and exhaustion that filled his body, letting him know that no, he was very much awake. It's all so far beyond what he's accustomed to dealing with that it seems preferable to treat the whole situation with mild contempt; it's either that, or give in to exhaustion and the fear he is so very unaccustomed to feeling.

"Alas, it looks as though you spoke too soon," and he's already moving to leap smoothly out of the way, forcing his protesting limbs to obey him; he was no warrior, but at the very least he's accustomed to avoiding large and dangerous objects directed at his person.

That...was unexpected. (Why should anything about this place surprise him anymore? But at least the cat creatures seemed like they belonged in the scarred environ.) Malcolm had no biting comeback for the man who had so gracefully leapt away, had in fact little time to even assess the slightly larger than person-sized robot (was there a person in there?), given he had to roll out of the way of that unfriendly blade, more than a bit awkward with the pack on his back. Upon recovery, he got off a few quick shots aimed at centre mass before trying to move away again. Damnable stun guns, why couldn't they have been given anything stronger?

He waited until he'd been able to create some distance between himself and their current threat, taking cover behind a small outcropping of rock and utilising the distraction created by the other man to reach for his own weapon. He was hardly an expert when it came to firearms - knives had always been his weapon of choice - but in his 'dreamlife' he had at least handled guns once or twice, knew roughly what he was doing with one.

It still seemed ridiculously surreal to find himself in a situation like this, but there was little point in thinking on that now, and he squeezed off a few rounds with the stun gun himself, aiming for the same area he's seen Malcolm shooting for. He'd rather be running, but leaving the group wasn't an option, not when remaining together held the highest percentage of survival.

smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

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