[The Hulk] Session 1 - END

edited February 2011 in In-Game
early afternoon, the first day

Lemma and Marshmallow

The market warren is on the fringe of the hold, the outskirts of the Outskirts. Sitting alongside the motorpool, it's one of the first things a traveler encounters as he approaches along the twenty-kilometer-long Mercer shelf, the main route for ground traffic in and out of Guntown.

The bus is still here, you can see. The heavy armored personnel carrier and its escort jeep are parked outside the largest entrance into the market's tunnels, and you glimpse a flash of bright red through the windshield of the APC - Clarion the bus driver, guarding the vehicles.

But something is up. A crowd is gathering on the glass of the shelf, and Clarion is getting out and swinging up onto the top of his vehicle, getting a better look. As you approach, a number of stragglers emerge from the market warren. They've been working around heat, so they're inappropriately dressed, coming out wrapped in quickly-grabbed furs and tarpaulins for temporary protection against the cold.

Everyone is looking south. As the two of you come down out of Guntown's shelter, you look out over the sea, and you see why.

Something big is burning somewhere over the horizon. It must be hundreds of miles away, but the column of oily smoke is distinct, rising up in a black column and smudging across the sky as it hits a layer of wind. What is that? Only one possibility comes to mind ... Lady Franklin must have gone up in flames.

Comments

  • Setter

    The girl is laid in her bed, and the Sansas are gone to make some sort of report to their superior. The room is dim, not yet filled with whale oil lamps, and it is already beginning to smell of the remnants of Holiday's sickness ... a faint odor of starvation and lingering death.

    She is pale and fleshless, with dull eyes and fine, brittle hair, no better than she was this morning, and her prognosis remains grim. Has anything really changed, Setter? Will she succumb to physical weakness or opportunistic infection? Even if she lives, will she ever be as bright and healthy as she once was? Right now, we can only hope.

    You hang her IV crudely, for the moment: a strip of tape sticking it to the glass wall. Payroll finds a chair, sits, and begins to wait.
  • Veronica

    The latrine is just that - a hole in a glass bench, you guess with some provision for mucking it out that's not immediately obvious to you. So not much in the way of plumbing here, then.

    Now what are you going to tell these people, Veronica? You only remember fragments of your squad's remit here - some kind of side-effect of the stasis - and you're pretty sure your missions were classified anyway. And your recent life ... honestly, you have no idea, do you? Up until finding yourself in that hellish factory, everything's just a fever dream, all bits and pieces. And many (most?) of those are probably just dreams and hallucinations.

    As you're rising and attending to necessaries (no paper, either ... animal skin), you look out the little window cut in the black glass wall. You find yourself looking out over a dark, open cavern of glass, and a ramshackle town built in the cavern's cradle. You see firelight and smoke, and you see all kinds of complicated hand-made buildings crushed together into a dense, well-used settlement.

    Where are you? And how long have these people been here?
  • edited February 2011
    Marco

    Foster's told you the story: how some of the workers noticed a huddled figure, on the edge of their light. How she lashed out when they approached her, and how she fought back when they tried to subdue her, ultimately taking a hostage. How Regal's squad converged on the fight and got the situation under control.

    "So we brought her in, stripped her of most of her gear, and tossed her into the lockup, like you saw. Wiki died a few minutes later. We did what we could, but he took a round to the chest, and there wasn't much that could be done. At least it was quick."

    "Visage sent Kettle home. She might not be quite as pretty as she once was, but it was just a broken nose, so she'll be fine in the long run. Pellet's fine, too. Other than that, no serious injuries. Bruises, scrapes, that kind of thing, and Regal says those were mostly self-inflicted like."

    He points you to the duty desk, indicating Veronica's scattered gear, post-Lemma.

    "We got her gear over there. Take a look at this stuff, sir ... we took a little look at it, and Roark said it looks new, but it's actually pretty old, vintage stuff. See?"

    There's a small square of paper on the desk as well, not obviously part of the pile of gear. Foster picks it up, shows it to you. It's paper, clean white stuff, like you don't see much of, but it's also old ... the edges are yellowed, and it's brittle with age. Neat black type reads simply: "SPC4691 - CELL A2".

    "Everything's old, like this, but not worn hardly at all. It's obviously just been sitting in some cache somewhere, so we figure she must've been a scavenger before, y'know, she went crazy. It'd be damn nice to know where that girl found these things - guns, we've got, but this is some nice armor here."

    Marco, there's also a stainless steel tag on the desk, partly covered with a black plastic sheath and strung on a ball chain. It reads:
    ESCO
    VERONICA M.
    997-46-4691
    O POS
    CATHOLIC
  • edited February 2011
    Pulse

    hours later

    The sun is setting, doing the slow, sideways decent it does at these latitudes, scraping the horizon on its way down. You're low, practically skimming the tips of some of the larger icebergs, and freezing wind rushes through the cockpit, whipping around straps and flaps as it goes. Your shoulder throbs, and your arm is stiff. That bullet may not have penetrated, but it's still going to take days to heal properly.

    Behind you is a vast pall of black smoke and the still corpse of a sometimes-friend, wrapped up in a plastic tarp. Ahead of you is the father-in-law of the dead man in your cargo hold and - looming ahead - the impossibly-wide wall of the hulk, stretching from horizon to horizon.

    You're still flying long into the night.
  • Trouble with the Lady is trouble for everyone; petroleum's useful stuff. Still, not a lot we can do about it from here. Let's see if we can find something to make drugs for Marshy, and then look for the things Setter mentioned. I've got projects!
  • "Good work, Foster. Tell Regal the same. Get Wiki's family up in here, too. I need to give them my condolences."

    She's crazy. She must be crazy. But perhaps she's also telling the truth.

    Very interesting.

    I will find out more from Specialist.

    (I'm planning on giving the last 1-barter from my surplus to Wiki's family to compensate for his death, because otherwise it goes away, right?)
  • Correct - barter from Wealth is whatever the holding has on hand at the moment, so it vanishes between sessions. So you might as well give it to the family to maintain good will (technically, that would be the barter-as-manipulate move, if we cared to work it out to that degree of detail).
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