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  • Pages: (2) 1 2  ( Go to first unread post ) Reply to this topicStart new topic

     Three Wolf Moon, Open to Any, Garrett
    Garret Morgan
     Posted: May 28 2014, 02:56 PM
    Quote Post
    N/A
    Bank Robber
    Shotgun
    N/A
    Crowbar
    Male
    3-September 13
    18 posts
    played by Elder Sartan
    Awards: 3

    Offline


    "Great Quetzalcoatl will find bad mans heart tasty. Will you collect with I, and find blonde daughter?" The man had said, displaying his dagger ritualistically. He needn't have asked. Garret had spent a lot of time and energy trying to tame his inner beast in the world that was, but a decent man was not what this new world needed. Even if it was still the land of investment bankers and fast food drive-thru hamburgers, these men had either captured his daughter or caused her to die out here in the cold. He stood up and wrapped the hatred that had consumed him while he was fighting the wolves around his body like a cowl.

    "Right. Let's go get this Kwetza-kottle his blood then." Garret was about to leave the bus when he saw it, lying beneath a seat next to a puddle of blood. A black cowboy hat, adorned with Native American bead work. Not usually his style, but as he looked up at the insane Mexican in his primitive garb, he felt drawn to it. He picked it up and placed it on his head, straightening the brow. He probably looked like an ass, but he didn't care.

    Then he looked around for his shotgun. It was nowhere to be found. If it hadn't been ruined before, it was surely ruined now. He needed a new weapon. While the Aztec waited, Garret scanned his surroundings. Of course no obvious weapons remained behind--that would have been too easy--but Garret was not one to take no for an answer. He moved up and down the bus, surveying the scene for anything that he could use. There was nothing, just trash. He ripped open overhead compartments, pried open the console next to the driver's seat. Nothing. He was starting to sweat, and breath heavily. He needed to figure something out before he expended his energy here on the bus. Finally, he walked back to the bathroom, tearing the bullet-riddled fiberglass door from its plastic hinges. There was a toilet, a shattered mirror (he actually looked alright in the hat), and a filthy sink; again, nothing he could use. Then his eyes returned to the toilet. In accordance with some law governing protections for the disabled, a metal bar was bolted into the restroom wall to give leverage to the occupant. Garret bit his lip and pulled, tearing the thing free of the cheap wall it had been adhered to. It had a decent weight to it, and he thought it would make a decent enough club.

    Of course, he still had his secret weapon in his coat pocket, though he hoped he didn't have to use it. No, the metal bar would do well enough for now, until he'd bashed in someone's head and taken their gun. He charged back into the main room where the other man was waiting, shaking the metal shaft in such a way as to imply that he was ready.

    Then they were outside, back in the bitter cold of Wyoming. It could get plenty cold in London, but Garret still wasn't used to conditions like this. He pulled his collar tight with his bandaged hand, and lowered his face against the breeze that greeted them.

    "After you then, Chief."



    ^
    Tepahtiani
     Posted: Jul 15 2014, 02:14 PM
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    The early morning light barely filtered through the greyish clouds above them, shrouding the snow-covered hill in a dim wintery glow. The snow muffled their hurried footsteps as the Neo-Aztec and the British Cowboy sped down the ridge where the bandit camp was located. The air was frigid. Their beating hearts and warm bellies were likely all that kept them from collapsing to the elements, as their clothing was hardly fit for an early spring in Yellowstone. Tepahtiani had lost his cloak in the fight, and the pale warrior lacked much more than a torn shirt, jacket, and pants. A fire of battle and vengeance was lit inside them both, however, and it moved them forward, accelerating them past the point of feeling cold, or feeling anything at all but the lust for battle.

    Slowly, the woods began to taper off, and amid the morning shadows of the pre-dawn light, the towering sides of hotels and resorts began to appear. Tepahtiani slowed his pace and drew the vaquero closer to him. Pointing toward the charred side of the now-defunct resort, he whispered into the crisp morning air, "Walk quiet. This was tourist home. Many dead. Many corrupted walk. Most freeze in cold, but some walk indoors. Avoid cabins. Stay close."

    They now took a slower pace. They felt their feet begin to crunch against objects strewn along the pavement under the snow. Not knowing if they strode across trash or bodies, they gingerly made their way across the former parking area and toward the Visitor's center. Ominous lumps of snow around them bespoke buried vehicles, and an untold mystery of contents within them. Tepahtiani showed little interest in them, aside from keeping away from the snowed-in vehicles. Man's reliance on technology over the power of the ancient gods had created this apocalypse ... as far as he was concerned, these people and their vehicles received exactly what was coming to them. Let the snow bury them in Tlaloc's embrace, and remove their stain from this world.

    Even as he thought this, Tepahtiani felt his foot hit a rather solid spherical shape under the snow. The step imbalanced him, forcing him to leap rather awkwardly the opposite direction to prevent himself from falling on his side. Looking down into the hole in the snow that his foot had so recently filled, he could see a bluish-grey face, bloody teeth exposed, nose blackened from the cold. The eyes seemed glued in their sockets, staring upwards with a locked glare. Nothing on the face moved ... yet somehow Tepahtiani could almost sense the corrupt husk of humanity struggling to open its jaw, to track him with its eyes, and to move its frozen limbs up to clasp him in a grip of death.

    Disgusting ungodly creatures.

    Carefully stepping around where the rest of the creature's body likely rested in the snow, Tepahtiani pointed at the glaring frozen face, and stated, "Have careful. They rest in snow. Not moving, but bones still sharp, and if hurt by them, corruption enters you. Visitor Center is past parking lot. It have ... um ... men watch in night. Guards. Not many. Most sleep in building. We kills guard, enter before they waking up. Not far. Look."

    He turned and pointed to a building just on the other side of the parking lot. Inside, the subtle glow of a fire flickered out from one of the windows, a tiny light amid a flat field of white and grey.

    Behind them, the pre-dawn light continued to grow, slowly making the snow shine brighter and making them stand out more from the early darkness. They would need to make haste.


    *Visitor center is the Albright Visitor Center, near Mammoth Hot Springs. Here it is on Google maps. (Map Here) We are coming at it from the southwest.
    ^
    Garret Morgan
     Posted: Jul 22 2014, 11:47 AM
    Quote Post
    N/A
    Bank Robber
    Shotgun
    N/A
    Crowbar
    Male
    3-September 13
    18 posts
    played by Elder Sartan
    Awards: 3

    Offline


    Garret followed behind Tepahtiani, doing his best to emulate the man's stealth. Sneaking had never really been his stock in trade. As they passed through a corridor of snow-draped cars, he imagined how he would have handled the situation on his own. He'd probably try to set off a car alarm to draw them outside, then bust in the back way as the frigid corpses of the wood were drawn from their slumber. If he and the Aztec had never had their altercation in the woods, he'd still have a shotgun, and he'd place it against the back of the skull of the man who'd taken his daughter.

    His attention was drawn back to the present as his companion slipped slightly. As Tepahtiani regained his balance, Garret noticed the curled face of a dead man underneath the snow. At least he'd thought it was a dead man.

    "Have careful. They rest in snow. Not moving, but bones still sharp, and if hurt by them, corruption enters you." He was right. It was a walker, encased in ice. His eyes studied the snow further, seeing the way the ground molded itself to the thing's body. No legs. No wonder it was just laying there in wait, like some sort of diseased bear trap. Tepahtiani continued. "Visitor Center is past parking lot. It have ... um ... men watch in night. Guards. Not many. Most sleep in building. We kills guard, enter before they waking up. Not far. Look." He pointed at a building with a bullet-pocked sign that currently read Al r Vis or nter. The dancing shadows of fire could be seen from inside the building. Garret gripped the metal bar from the tour bus restroom tightly. The next few minutes were key. He walked delicately--now that Tepahtiani had pointed the out, he could see that their adversaries had actually gone so far as to litter the ground with the hungry torsos of the undead, turning their approach into a minefield of contagion--but he was still picking up his pace. Already, his blood was starting to sing its song.

    1-2-3-4

    The metal pipe began to swing back and forth rhythmically, gathering a gentle momentum.

    1-2-3-4

    The frosted air flowing from his lungs began to look like dragon's breath.

    1-2-3-4

    Heart and footsteps pounding as one.

    Garret was in the lead now, a paragon of primitive force on a straight line towards his vengeance. Tepahtiani was like a shadow behind him, but despite their disparate styles his movements still matched Garret's rhythm, zigging and zagging almost like beat of a metronome. Or a heart.

    1-2-3-4

    They came up onto the sidewalk and approached the door. Tepahtiani disappeared from Garret's peripheral vision....was he readying one of those devilish darts like the one that had sailed through his hand? It didn't matter. Just like some of the smaller banks he'd robbed, the guards at the visitor's center didn't actually expect anyone to show, and as such weren't really guarding anything so much as they were hanging out with one another, albeit with guns. There were two of them in the main lobby, one on either side of the counter that used to great tourists to the building. Behind them was a giant mural of a canyon, along with an iPad based information system that nobody had even bothered to touch. A row of tiny spotlights sat dark above them. Even though the early morning sun should have at least shown them his silhouette, they were too busy playing cards by lamplight--the fire was somewhere else inside the building--to notice him until it was, for all intents and purposes, too late. The doors were locked, but the mechanism was cheap, more like something from a Cheapside flat than from a once premiere tourist destination. Pressing against the left door with his shoulder, Garret yanked at the other side as hard as he could, lifting slightly, and the entrance popped open.

    Now they did see him, but there was still that golden moment when confusion hung in the air, giving him just a bit of extra time.

    1-2-3-4

    He ran at them and slid, his heavy boots cracking the leg from the wooden stool the guard on his side of the counter had been sitting on. The man toppled down to the floor, sending his handful of cards flying in every direction, and Garret pounced, putting the metal bar over the guard's throat and then hooking his arms underneath it. Despite being three stone heavier than Garret, a bald, tattoo and black leather tough, he couldn't do much with his windpipe collapsing except thrash around, alternately reaching towards his gun and trying to pull the bar from his throat, but not really succeeding at either. He could hear the second guard slide a clip into his assault rifle, but Garret didn't worry. He had full cover on the floor in front of the counter, and he trusted that Tepahtiani had the situation well in hand.
    ^
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