Site Event 1 - The Hold

[Lucy]

The Anderson leader simply known as Jeb jabbed at the grated floor suspiciously before stepping foot inside of the dark, cave-like hold. Eyes narrowed in a suspicious scowl as he pressed onward. "It's not immediately dangerous... How 'bout you there Beverly boys an' girls go pokin' 'bout where yer nose don't quite fit? I'mma sure if somethin' finds offense, it'll make it fit." The ominous mutter was followed by a long, uncomfortable silence from both clans, broken only by Dasy's uncomfortable laugh.
"Oh Jeb." Cautiously she patted the man's arm before pressing on ahead of him, well aware of the strange pack of wolf-dogs gathered adoring and vigilant at their masters' feet. They certainly weren't like any dog she was used to - this pack, shaved and well tended, watched expectantly for the signal to attack these strange new persons invading and threatening the integrity of their human-pack. "You're such a comic-"
"I wut'nt bein' comedic, Dasy. Go make y' dead-weight clan usefuh." And with that he gave her ass a solid smack, ushering her into the dim unknown with a quiet yelp. It was only then that the Anderson clan, gave a rough, barking laughter among themselves, shuffling their weapons from hand to hand with a resounding clatter of safety switches and panels against palms as barrels raised, leveling as the men and women of the dominant clan fanned just aching for something to be stupid enough to rear its ugly face from the unknown gloom.

After a thorough search of the hold both clans regrouped, gathering as close as social standards between them would permit. As conversations started up there came a pitiful whining and restless quarreling from the thirty or so dogs huddled throughout the crowd. As the broken, shuddering attempts at conversation repeatedly faltered and bit the dust the small fights grew more intense, the dogs wrestling amongst themselves, snarling at the hands that offered to pull them away from one another.
"Dasy-" Jeb began, searching for the Beverly scout leader, twisting around at the first squealing protests of metal joints suffering the effects of long-term disuse. "We need tah go now!" The crowd blinked, staring dumbly at the man. Growling impatiently he jabbed a finger towards the hold entrance. "Now!"

Almost as if taking a cue the sand shifted just outside of the entrance, spilling inside of the hold and to either side. All at once the clans began a panicked, confused stampede for their only exit, only to have those more enthusiastic (or terrified) slam bodily into the door, shouting and hammering on the steel with the sides of their fists. "This was your fault, Dasy!" Jeb roared into the crowd as he searched for the slight woman - Dasy, it appeared, was no more than a name to be bellowed into the dark, competing with the restless whines and wailing howls of the frightened pack. Frustrated Jeb called for silence only to find himself ignored - the moderately loyal Beverly Clan had begun to fan out on their own search for their missing leader, sniffing around boxes and into corners for the pale woman. Jeb, as he quickly realized, was losing control over the situation.

"Cahm th' fhak down and lis'n t' me!" There was an echoing gunshot following by the pinging ricochet of a bullet fired from the handgun usually strapped to his hip. "Ge' th' fuck back hea' and' lis'n th' fhak up!"
"Stop shootin' before you get us all killed! We're not getting out that way, so we have one option - up." Jeb was momentarily stunned, staring quietly at the tall, red-skinned brute of a man as he tipped his wide-brimmed hat back up on his brow. The Anderson man Morgan couldn't have possibly been talking to him. "Look, she's obviously not in the hold and there's only one real way to find our way out, unless you want to attempt shooting through metal..."

--

In the hold contains one mysterious minor tech as well as common items and rations. A roll shall be performed for the tech - if interested say as much in your next post. Epic award shall be decided next GM post. All are eligible.

Dasy has gone missing from the immediate area - the door up the stairs leading out of the hold has opened up and all participants have been locked into the ship. Those joining at a later date must write themselves in as having been with the Beverly-Anderson group from the beginning.

Jeb and Morgan shall lead separate parties from this point forward. Specify which team you are loyal towards. The pack shall be staying with Jeb.

[Marcus]

Jona and the spider drone watched all the commotion from a safe distance, standing among the Beverly members. Light, filtered red poured off top of the drone’s thorax. The Marcus brothers, not part of either clan had been sucked into the situation after picking up a Beverly member in the desert. They had rendezvoused with the others here. The speaker inside the drone buzzed and Josh’s voice could be heard. “Some latency caused by interference. I am attempting to compensate.” There was a brief pause and some clicking noises as dials were adjusted. “Think I got it cleaned up.

Jona was for the most part still, his heavy machine gun, slung lazily over his left shoulder and his sidearm on his right hip. The spider drone, controlled by Josh who was still outside at a drone interface slowly scanned the hold interior for useable part and new technology that he could incorporate into his designs. Jona was already resigned to go with Morgan. During the little time he had known Jeb he had built up an opinion of the man. He thought the guy was a scum-bag.

A few seconds would find Jona treading over to stand near to Morgan with the drone slowly casting red light about the hold.

[Milwaukee]

Milwaukee hissed slightly under her breath as they walked into the hold of this mysterious ship more. Once again she was pondering exactly why she had come on this... Oh what were the words they had used? Oh yes. "Extremely fun and extraordinary expidition for knowledge and fun". She snorted under her breath, well so far it had not been any of that, but alas. Here she was and here she would stay until it was all over. Not that she didn't like Dasy, she did. The two of them got along well enough, after all Milwaukee's family had had loose ties to the Beverly clan for a long time, since before it was run by Marina Del Ray but oh well. Now they were under the command of Dasy and she would make the best of it that's for sure. She wandered along, staying closer to the back of the group, trying not to make herself known and just wander along, observing.


Anderson Clan... The nasty taste of bile rose up in her throat at the thought of them. So much... Well they were just distasteful to her. Especially Jeb.. What an ignorant... Nevermind. She wouldn't get into it. If she did she would get upset and then Jeb would most likely die so no. She wouldn't concentrate on it.. Instead she would concentrate on what was going on around her.


The hold was dark that was certain. Dark and dank. Not a whole lot of lighting but it would be suitable enough for decent exploration of the cave and it seemed that some of the Beverly people had brought lights. Thank the bees her clan was smart! The metal was slightly rusted over as this ship was... Obviously old as it had been almost completely covered in sand, well as far as she could tell anyway. Her eyes wandered over the walls and the floors, marvelling at the fact that the grates were still humming with some sort of power, which was good... She hoped.


Her head turned slightly at Jeb's distasteful sounding voice as he started to say something to Dasy. Explore the cave? Wonderful. Now some actual fun, hopefully. Her eyes narrowed though as he smacked Dasy on the ass and she hissed, slightly louder this time, getting the attention of a few Anderson Clan members who stared her, angry expressions on their faces. She gave them a "bring it on" look and moved forward with the other Beverly people, searching the hold for anything. Oooo it would be nice if there could be some tech stuff in here. She wasn't a very techy person but twould still be nice! She leaned over boxes, jumped up and looked into vents, got a couple of ass grabs from a few people... Who were damn lucky she couldn't SEE them!!!


She growled and continued walking, searching until they were called back to regroup. Jeb once again was speaking.. Need to get out? What was he talking about... shit! She quickly ran towards the groups only exit, being one of the first to get there, only to be body slammed up against metal. Wind knocked out of her and a couple of her ribs either broken or badly bruised she swore, "YOU BUNCH OF POMPOUS WINDBAGS! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" A few people backed off at her pronounced statement and she leaned over to take a breath, listening as Jeb continued to call out to Dasy. Just as she was about to speak another voice interjected, speaking her thoughts.



Her head rose and she nodded. Ah Morgan. She knew a little bit about him. He had gone with Dasy on a few expeditions but otherwise there was little known about him except that he wears that RIDICULOUS looking hat. She stood up slowly, right arm wrapped around her rib cage and gently prodding to find the problem as she listened. Well this man was smart. She would go with him.



She pushed past people swearing at them to get out of her way and stood kind of behind Morgan, showing her loyalty to this man to go up and find Dasy... Hopefully. And she would be able to get away from those nasty Anderson pack dogs...

[Cyd Anae]

It wasn't that she wanted to side with Jeb, but the nasty looks that the Beverly clan fixed her with, the absolute hate that scented the very air. If her ears could, they would pin back and if she had a tail it would be neatly tucked between her legs. Meek and obedient she huddled close to the Anderson dogs, quietly stroking their ears as the others moved out, inspecting the hold. Quietly she crooned nursery rhymes and bee-hymns to the dogs, delighted by the fawning affections they paid her, head snuggled into her lap.

A wet nose pressed into the crook of her arm as she snuggled down into the restlessly moving mass of mutt, teeth scraping her elbow slightly only to have a hand shove it away. "Stop - be a good dog." Cyd's command was greeted by an abrupt bite to the hip and a sudden howling as bodies, both human and animal, charged. Cringing she ducked down, covering her head to ward off flying feet and claws, eyes wide and fixed on her knees in mute panic - the world had abruptly spilled open, Cyd reasoned, although there was a loud bang followed by another, and another, and then a strange, sick crackle of ribs that caused her to ball up tighter, whining to herself in pain and terror as her arm began to throb. The fresh scar threatened, and very slowly began to ease open under the bandages, against the better judgment of the stitching.

All at once the banging was replaced by angry shouting, a gunshot and finally... Finally the even, commanding drone of Morgan's voice. Mmmmmorgan. Shifting she loosened her arm only slightly, glancing up at the red-skinned man only to realize that it was the Beverly clan bunching up about them. Her heart sank, nuzzling her face into the grating as the pack regrouped about her.

Before she knew it the Beverly clan had regrouped around Morgan, fixing Jeb with a collective glare. Slowly tangling her arms and legs she slunk into the ranks of the Anderson clan, face drawn in pain as she ducked into the process of tending her healing wounds, fingers poking at her recently gashed forehead. "J-Jeb... Jeb..." Slinking through the crowd she huddled up at his heels, peering at the opposing group longingly...

By all but the Anderson pack, she was ignored.

[Lucy]

The small insect-like device had cleverly snuggled into Milwaukee's pack. The vital-monitoring drone's capacity for problem-solving and intelligent decision was limited by a system of reactions programmed to occur when presented with certain stimuli. In this case, a beating heart, the presence of neural waves above those of the common wasteland creature and the sudden spike in adrenaline all accounted for the determined bee-line from inside of a crate up onto Mil's person. The lazy flickering red light flashed twice before lighting up with a solid glow - like a parasite it began to feed although not off the host herself, but whatever it could find in her bags, gnawing through cloth, leather, and rations, navigating the jostling obstacle course of the woman's belongings.

Morgan smirked quietly to himself before waving, pointing up at the door up the stairs, leading out of the cargo hold. All at once Jeb began to protest, pointing at a large door opposite the original entrance of the hold. "We have well over a hundred men - we could try to-"
"The door, Jeb, is not coming down. That one up there is already open." Briefly he looked down at Jona and his sorely out of place 'Charlotte' with Anderson disdain. Despite his more open-minded nature and more amicable personality, Morgan was, born and raised, of Anderson. Wrinkling his nose briefly he turned away from Jona to another man nearby with a rather intimidating array of weapons gathered about his person, nodding to the door. The conversation seemed to revolve around instructions for traveling through the door into the unknown beyond the hold. With a firm nod the weapon-toting brute nodded, rubbing the Beverly nautical star emblazoned on his vest lightly. Tagging a woman a good deal fewer weapons but the very same star, he led her up the stairs and to the door. Once more attention focused on Morgan as he cleared his throat (Jeb by now looked like a very impatient child, glowering from under his heavily furrowed brow). "Kirk and Debbie will lead the way. If we cannot find a way out before daybreak, we'll regroup here and make..." Well, what did you call sleeping in an unnatural cave? Was it appropriate to equate striking up a fire and huddling in terror to dozing in a relatively secure arrangement on familiar terrain? He shrugged internally and weighed the logic of the situation - he doubted anyone other than Jeb would call him out if it was wrong to say '"Camp."

Jeb puffed indignantly as Morgan began to herd his group up the stairs, listening intently for Kirk and Debbie's all-clear before leading the way into the inky black with only a few torches (fire or otherwise) to guide their way. Quietly Jeb muttered to his crew something about it being exploration that got them in this mess before hollering for them to get their asses in gear, lagging behind the scant few Anderson and even fewer Beverly members that filed in belatedly after Morgan's group. A majority of the dogs would not be budged from the safety of the hold with five of the mongrels slinking about in the shadows shyly, sniffing the hall.

-----

Milwaukee has won the roll and may not participate in the next tech-find.

Due to uneven teams Jeb and Morgan's teams shall be sticking together until groups stabilize. Participants may switch teams until further notice.

[Lucy]

"Are you alright?" A Beverly woman approached Milwaukee, bearing remarkable resemblance to Debbie. "You hit that cargo door awfully hard, are you okay?" Already she was pawing through her own pack, producing a small packet of what one could infer to be powdered opiate. "This will numb the damage until later on tonight- I'm Tess, by the way." Tess was obviously young, a long corded scar running from her elbow to her wrist on her left arm, the fingers of the connecting hand half-curled and limited in range. While not a decent healer, she was obviously in the know concerning assorted drugs and numbing substances as the scar suggested a particularly nasty wound and an equally as nasty recovery time. As she held the bag out longer and longer, her hand began to shake faintly.

Both groups find themselves halted by a flat, unchanging wall at the end of the hall. There are several halls, narrow stairwells and ladders branching from the main hall however nobody seems quite ready to face the absolute unknown. Morgan, apparently the appointed leader of the majority at this time, seems at a loss. A brief search for Dasy in the few possible crannies turns up nothing and Morgan, as well as most others, begin to look for a new path.

The wall at the end of the hall abruptly opens up, sliding to the left. From inside is cast a pale green glow followed by a breath of strangely fresh, cool air.

------

The parties may continue into the bridge, down to the middle deck or to the engine room. State your decision in your post.

[Milwaukee]

Milwaukee's eyes got large as she felt something enter her bag and she quickly took it off her shoulders and opened it, looking inside. Ah... A small, little robotic... Thing... And it was eating her bag... Well it was cute.. Kind of. She would need to find a name for it. She studied it for a while, not really noticing anyone around her for a while as she watched it eat her bag... More. She sighed slightly and reached a hand in to pet it, "Um... Good tech toy thing. I need to find a name for you... Uh how about... Well I think of one later. For now just try not to completely destroy my bag... Please?" She watched it slightly amused and then shut her bag back up, turning to look at Morgan and awaiting any orders from him.


She listened to his reasoning and nodded. Quite sound really. To get out go up. Logical. She liked him. He was efficient unlike Jeb... The hillbilly. She hissed slightly at his name and growled as people jostled into her. She was shoved backward into a young man and she turned, nodding her head to him, "Pardon me. People have no manners anymore. They figure that since this world has completely gone to shit they can act like that too. Oh well." She observed him with his spider drone thingy and nodded, "I"m Milwaukee. Excuse me." She walked past him up near the front so that she could hear better.



She allowed herself to be led up the stairs while she also began to look in her pack for something to help heal her ribs.. When she got out of here she would need to properly examine herself but for now some she had some simple things that would work to stem off the pain. She pulled out a small bag and poured it into her mouth, swallowing it quickly as she did, the powder going down her throat and slightly caking in her throat. She grabbed her water and downed it right as she was approached by some other woman. She sputtered and coughed, a slightly indignant look upon her face as she looked the woman up and down.



Hmm... Guess not everyone had heard of her. No matter. She would know soon enough who she was. She smiled slightly at the woman who introduced herself as Tess and make a small coughing sound, "Hello uh Tess was it? Yes. I'm Milwaukee. And thank you for the advice but I'm quite all right. I'm a doctor myself you see so. Thank you anyway." She gently closed the womans hand and gently pushed her arm back into her body. That scar looked nasty... Well... After this was over she might be able to help with that... Or maybe help to fix what might be wrong who knows.



She swallowed and sighed as the group once again stopped because of an obstacle.. And once again no visible exit can be seen. Milwaukee might have to make this her house... All the confusion would greatly hinder away visitors... It would be perfect for her. She smiled slightly and raised her eyebrows in a mix of shock and disbelief as the door seemingly opened itself and air suddenly blew out of it. She took a deep breath however and closed her eyes, enjoying the slight breeze that came from the wind gust from the door. She grinned and looked over at Tess, "Well I don't know about you... But I am going to explore the bridge. Find out where the hell this thing came from."



She started walking forward, heading down in the direction of the bridge, nervous excitement making her whole body tingle.

[Ingrid]

Opting to hang back from the crowd had worked out well for Ingrid thus far. She managed to avoid being trampled in the confusion at least, and... until now, she thought it would better suit her to observe the situation. After all, she had no ties to either group, and she'd hate to draw attention to herself as a stowaway-of-sorts to their little excursion. Truth be told, her trip there was probably thanks to the Anderson clan. They were a boisterous lot, which made their plots and plans a bit easier to get a hold of. Ingrid had always enjoyed how they handled their affairs. They may have been a bit brash and crude, but they mostly went about business in an open manner.

Ah! business! That was why she made the long trek out here in the first place. There was no need to waste time searching the hold for anything valuable, she reasoned. If it were up to her, she'd stash the good stuff in the hardest to reach place. Now that things were picking up, though, she would have to vie for position amongst the others. Seeing no more need for subtlety, she finally shrugged off her hood and began to weave her way through the crowd towards the general front of the line. It seemed to be all for naught though, as everyone had come to an abrupt stop before she got there. How fun, a wall.

Most folk seemed to be waiting for some sort of mutual assessment, but a few had already begun to explore further. A moderate group was making their way towards an ominous glow at the other end of the hall. Glows, in Ingrid's experience, were not often good things... so she turned around and began to make her way cautiously toward what she had hoped was the middle deck. Seemed like as good a place to start rummaging as any. As her boots clicked softly against the grated floors, she held a firm grip around the multi-tool in her pocket, hoping she would have the opportunity to use it for gain rather than defense...

[Moss]

Moskva picked himself off of the metallic floor, all too smooth, even for metal, and adjusted the pin on his crusty leather jacket. It was a red and black nautical star in place of October Hive’s normal crimson, but the two pieces were nearly identical aside from color. Both Anderson and Beverly clans were present here, and the scout would damn well make his people’s allegiance clear. He slung his long, heavy rifle - a strong construction of wood and black iron - over his shoulder as he followed the others into the dark chamber. His eyes were mostly on the one they called Jeb. He and the loudmouth had butted heads before, but now that they were all sealed up together in some curious metal cave with a wall of sand on the other side, well, they both thought it best to play civil. For now, at least.

His eyes darted about the various beams of light, not carrying one of his own. No, he’d rather keep his hands free if something jumped out of the shadows (or Jeb got trigger-happy, which was even more likely). The others could make themselves targets with their torches if they wanted, he’d happily cling to the shadows.

His eyes perked wide, and he spoke to no one in particular. And this particular no one was a girl who had chosen to hang in the back of the pack with him. Smart, He remarked to himself.

“No rivets.” He doubted the muddy-looking girl, clutching something in her pocket for dear life, really cared. But October Hive was one large factory, and one did not live there without knowing at least something about welding, riveting, and otherwise sticking scrap metal to other pieces of scrap metal. And this place, well, there was no sign of any of that. The deck, the walls, all of it was obnoxiously smooth, with no real sign of having been formed from smaller pieces.

He wasn’t sure if she replied, but he soon noticed her slipping silently through the shadows to the head of the pack.

[Lucy]

As parties began to separate and deliberate Jeb ground his teeth, glaring quietly over the milling crowd. None dared to touch the brute and bustled around him giving him as wide a berth as the hall would allow. As the main deck began to clear out the dogs obstinately remained, mutely watching after those that entered the bridge and those that descended a nearby stairway with ears perked and docked tails lamely wagging behind them. Something, the small pack had unanimously decided, was up. What exactly that something was, however, they could not, would not tell.

"Going to stand there, Jeb?" Tess' voice was quiet, her attention quickly drawn from the doctor to the Anderson leader. The nip of white powder on her thumb wholly unappetizing as it had been for the past few months. As if she'd sprung a conscious out of the blue, a vague little voice commanded her to put the opiate away and dump the pinch of dust to the floor. Obediently she twisted her wrist, brushing her hands off across her thighs before settling into a dumb lull, swaying faintly as she studied the Anderson leader. He nodded in affirmation, glaring at the Beverly addict, snapping at an Anderson woman to get her "precious lil' rear" back over towards him, seething as she refused, scuttling into the bridge, cutting in front of the Octoberist, breathing a command for him to move as she squeezed past.

With only a small crowd of Anderson and Beverly left to the main hall a majority of the group had headed town the stairs while a small, curious group embraced the pale green glow of uncertainty. As the last body entered the bridge there was a feminine shout of 'Get out!' although Jeb's carefully feigned apathy did not waver, mouth twisting into a cruel little smirk as the faint breeze picked up and then cut off abruptly. Rather it was Tess who seemed uncomfortable, scratching her right ear every few minutes or so, brow furrowed.

--

There are now three groups, one that will remain in the main hall, one that will head to the middle deck (Ingrid, Cyd), and one that will head to the bridge (Mil, Moss). New threads will be started for each of these groups.

All groups will remain open to new players however established players may not switch groups until the next GM round.