Down in the Gutter: IC, Surviving to See Tomorrow is Goal #1 Options

[Cedric Rolfsson]

00:01:00 Saturday November 1, 2070- Abandoned Building

Jaya's shoulder screamed at him but he ignored it in the interest of continued existence and scrambled into the darkened doorway and the deepest shadows he could find. A quick glance showed him his options were limited to a couple of ways out and one way up, none of which headed in the direction he wanted to go so he stopped for a tick to consider his options. The shouting from the meta's out front got louder and he could tell they'd seen the bodies across the street, his cue to exit stage left.

Without further hesitation he hopped through a broken wall into the alley leading northeast and began jogging along, trying to put distance between himself and anyone intent on further damage.

[adamu]

00:19:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Alleys behind Plastic Sushi
Grack

Perhaps the foremost reason our Grack so relished watching and waiting was that it unfailingly produced such splendid results. To use the current occasion as one of myriad possible illustrations, our hero's patience now afforded him the invaluable opportunity of gaining an advantageous position over his foes.

Of course, from his location at the northeast corner of Plastic Sushi he did not know exactly who those foes were, but such knowledge was altogether irrelevant. He had seen his boon companions prepare their weapons - Legion unsheathing his Japanese blade, Thumper picking up a brick and shouting something - and then they moved south with the unmistakable bearing of men going into battle. The prisoner, too, had followed, doubtless in a pathetic attempt to avoid torture by currying favor with his captors.

His fellows southbound on 124th Avenue, young Grack launched himself on a parellel course down the alley he was in, his herculean thighs hurtling him along the narrow space at at a breathtaking rate. His new axe in one hand, he used his other to modulate the VirtualSurround system of his chip player - another hard-won spoil of war in itself - bringing Broken Tusk's proud ethnic battle hymn even closer to his ears and, by extension, his noble warrior's heart.

Barreling around the southeast end of the building at a breakneck rate, he covered the south side of the structure in a half-dozen steps. The final bend loomed ahead, promising a deadly avenue of attack upon his enemies' flank, victory and glory beckoning just around the corner.

[pragma]

00:19:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Street in front of Plastic Sushi
Thumper

After hearing the challenge and Legion's kill order, Thumper squared off against the opposing gang ready to do two of the three things he did best.

The first of those was talk shit. As he closed with the rival gangers he grabbed a rock and shouted "Last I checked I was pack," as soon as the projectile (thrown wide) left his fingers he was scooping up another "And where I'm standing is my fucking turf."

The second was fighting. His grip tightened around the table leg in his right hand and the projectile in his equally dangerous left. He breathed out at what felt like a measured rate as his legs tensed and he prepared to sprint into his foes swinging, but before he'd gathered his wits his body had already sprinted away from the firearm the dwarf wielded. He wheeled around ready to attack the waiting from his new position.

[Unarmed]

00:19:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Street in front of Plastic Sushi

Doc

Doc reacted quickly, and in what seemed like a split second before even the two battlehardened veterans moved, Doc sized up the situation.

Looks like a gun on the Dwarf. He'll probably go after Legion. I've got no choice but to fight, now. I can handle that troll.

Doc grabbed betsy from the loop at his belt, walking down the street alertly, legs taught with potential energy, ready to charge. His hat was now thrown in the ring with what remained of the Hammerpack, whether he wanted it to be or not. Even if the Black Plague had nothing to do with the 8-Ball factory bombing, and it was likely that they were not involved, Doc was gonna take it out of these Plaguers like he'd done with the UV.

[Vegas]

00:19:50 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Nevada

Adrenaline surged through her entire body once again, the rush better than any drug. A quick glimpse at the barrel of a pistol an instant before it disappeared and the voice came around the corner.

“Wrong fucking question pendejo, the right response is the answer to who the fuck are you?� She hissed around the chipped and broken brick façade.

Heavier pressure on the trigger, as her eyes darted to her right and the rest of the open intersection for an instant before snapping forward and to the left as if she were willing herself to be able to see around the corner.

Keep breathing. In. Out.

[rob]

00:19:53 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

Rock back on my heels a bit to get some distance from the corner and level the pistol at the corner. Try to scoot backwards a little. Make like a brick and stick to the wall, low. One finger drops to the last grenade mag and thumbs a pepper punch grenade into my palm.

This is weird. Voice on the commlink was male, but I should've heard a scuffle if someone took them. Make room. Keep 'em talking. Drop the nade and move...

"Leon's cousin. Are you Badmarsh? Raiders? Hammerpack?"

Can't watch my back... Bad position. Gotta move.

[HeySparky]

00:20:13 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Badmarsh

Badmarsh subvocs at the guy he presumes is Leon's cousin. <<@Leon [Badmarsh]: Flash your comm twice, Soldier Boy, before the chickadee here fills you with shot.>>

The young man's eyes slide up and down Nevada's tense body. Dayum. He opens an AR window to watch for the flare of Leon's comm. The signal blinks on and off. On and off. Just around the corner.

He give the girls a hard look with a finger to his lips. 'Quiet.' <<@Nevada[Badmarsh]: Okay... listen close... on TWO. >>

He whispers low to Nevada, maybe just loud enough for a trigger happy soldierboy sitting paranoid and antsy around the corner to hear "On three."

"One..." he taps her shoulder.

<<@Leon [Badmarsh]: Snap us a pic of what you can see of the corner. And another of yourself - with plenty of background.>>

"Two..." He taps her shoulder hard and his belly tightens as she leaps, shotgun at the ready...!

[rob]

00:20:16 Saturday, November 1, 2070 –At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

Flash him a picture of shit? Boy must be out his damn mind. At least it's them. Time to make nice.

I hear the shit going on around the corner. Drop the pistol to the low ready, relax it over my knee. Sit there, palm up, with the grenade hanging in my palm, for when the - *blink twice* - hottie with a shotgun jumps around the corner.

"Howdy. Yall wanna stop pointin' them things at me, please?"

This must be a fucking hilarious scene. I'm sittin here, crouched down, left side pointing at 'em. Tryin' to look hard-ass while I got a ripped up jacket and a blood-caked condom hanging off my armpit, grenade up in my hand, and so much blood on my chin I look like I went down on a raggin' chick. Rifle hanging off my right shoulder and tryin' to look casual like with a pistol in my hand. Little lady pointin' a big ass shotgun at me. I tell you, the barrel of a gun never looks bigger than when you're lookin' right at it.

[grendel]

00:19:03 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Legion

Legion knew that his peers viewed him as a vicious machine of mayhem, a dervish of barely restrained violence. While this was true for the most part, he did not deny the fact that often times it was more productive to reason with an individual rather than curb stomping them. This was not one of those times. The combat computer of his mind, street honed and trained, factored in his wounds and those of his soldiers, the numerical superiority facing them, the weapons on both sides, and the overall terrain of the encounter. The deciding factor was nothing that it produced, though, but rather the animal snarl of a wounded predator.

"Grack, Thumper, take 'em."

Legion ordered his troops into battle with a flat tone of authority, his eyes scanning the shallow wedge of Black Plague scum that sauntered down the street.

If I am to die today, let me die in battle. If I am to die today, let my death remind all who follow that I was Legion and that I bent this world to my will.

Moving parallel to the sidewalk, he flicked the remains of his cigarette away, hefting his katana in his right hand. Adrenaline blazed through his body, erasing the pain of his wounds and the aching muscles in his thighs and back. The kill to come shimmered in his mind, but, as always, he saw beyond it as well.

"Leave one alive!" he called to his soldiers. This time his voice reached the Black Plaguers, and the ork on the far left recognized him, calling out a warning to his friends.

Now!

Legion surged forward in three quick steps, his sword describing a glittering swift arc from low ready. The ork closing the right end of the formation of gangers tried to block with his forearm snap blades, but wasn't quite quick enough. The meter long curve of razor sharp steel slid past his guard, slicing down across his chest with brutal effect. Blood splashed onto the street, its hot coppery scent filling the air around Legion.

[Konsaki]

00:19:46 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Alleyway on the South-East corner of 132nd Ave NE and NE 142nd Pl
Nova

The sounds of heavy boots rumbled down the alley; their owners yelling in frustration and anger. Chains tinkled and clanked from the hands of a few and on the belts of others with each lurching gait. The breathing from the group was hot and heavy from the hard run they made towards the south, well out of their own zone.
Louder and louder it came, until the rumble quickly died down from the commanding voice of one within, “Black Twenty-four Delta! Black Twenty-four Delta! Ready… Break!� The chorus of different voices could be heard immediately after with a resounding reply, “BREAK!� Then, as they once rumbled southbound, they quickly faded off into the distance as they turned west, deeper into the lands they drooled over for such a long time.

A minute passed as the sounds of the nighttime creped in around the alley; broken by the sporadic shots of gunfire from odd directions off in the distance. Slowly, a figure eased his way out of a darkened corner, the night thick in that spot had covered him well, to lean against one of the walls close by.
Breathing deeply from his own run, the blond elf grinned slightly at his escape only to wrench his face into a disgusting contortion before keeling over to lose his stomach across the ground. The elven man forced himself not to retch again at the putrid smell and made a determined few steps out of his hiding area, moving towards the south again. His feet and legs seemed like noodles that were processed way too long, weak and wobbly, but Nova was determined to continue on…

[Vegas]

00:20:30 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Nevada

She edged the shotgun ever so slightly to the left, still at the ready as she eyed both the various weapons the Ork was carrying along with the copious amounts of blood he was wearing. From the wounds and the crude attempt at first aid, she gathered it was more his than someone else's.

"I've had one too many run-ins with one of those today," she nodded towards the blood-covered grenade in his hand, "And until I know for certain you're not gonna go and do something stupid enough like try to use that little pea-shooter on me, this little baby here in my hands isn’t going anywhere."

Behind her she could hear the girls and Badmarsh shuffle along the wall to her left. Her gaze didn’t leave Bockscar's face as she raised her brow and waited for him to play nice first.

[DireRadiant]

00:07:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070, Little Loop, west side of 124th
Tootles

He'd been barely keeping up with Tink as she kept surging ahead, leading him on. He so wanted to just run down the street, but the Raiders were just over there, and he was alone. Without Peter to taunt them and lead them away he knew better then to be seen by them alone. He kept tripping over his bow as he ran is short awkward spurts along the far side of the street from the Raiders. He hadn't seen any though.

<Tink, keep down!>

Once into the Little Loop he'd straightened up a bit and jogged continually for at least twenty steps before pausing and starting his next batch. His blanket flapped behind him.

<<Peter's and the Boy's are this way!>> exclaimed the fairy.

Tootles groaned at the pain in his side from running so much. Off in the loop the welcoming illumination of the Lossky Destry Clinic beckoned, and he longed for a rest. But despite all the kindness the inhabitants of that strange place showed to everyone else, the young man just knew it was all a trick to trap Mortal like him. He just knew if he took any of their food, or slept there, or accepted any of the kindness, then next thing he'd be waking 7 years later all grown up and everything. He might even have a beard.

Ignoring the clinics welcoming buzz and illuminated warmth, and the changelings inside, he gathered his tattered blanket around his shoulders and forced himself into a trot after Tink and continued on into the darkness.

Peter and the Lost Boys were going to need him.

Tootles to the Rescue!

[rob]

00:20:36 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

Pop the Predator onto the slide and back into my sleeve. Relax my other arm let it drop towards my lap. Cup my hand round the nade and turn the back of my hand towards the lady, like I'm back in the klink and the bomb is a cigarette.

"Feel better now? Lets make like we're civilized. I'm looking for Badmarsh. Some Raiders are probably following behind me. They have a sniper. You Badmarsh? If not, who are you, and is he gonna get his ass from behind there?"

Fuck this shit. Done told 'em my story three times. They can un-fuck themselves on their time, and if the process gets me shot in the back, oh well. Done that today. Lean back into the wall and cough a bit. Look back down the alley I came from. Fudge the assault rifle a little with my knee, to make it easier to grab if I need to cover our asses.

[Geisha]

00:24:51 Saturday, November 1, 2070 - 132nd Ave NE
Nova

Staggering toward south checking his back every few meters, Nova didn’t quit walking to put more distance between him and Raiders. After about 100 meters of walking, he thought of Ghost, tried to call him up on the commlink.

"Frag, Frag, Frag!"

Nova stopped and muttered to himself as he tries to call Ghost. He just realized his commlink is shattered and the remains of his commlink are dangling from his wrist.

Must been during the fight, I guess, he thought, how the frag am I gonna link up with others?

As Nova throw away his commlink on the street, he checked himself for additional missing/broken gears as well as himself.

Nothing seems broke or missing. Fragging tired from all the running I did tonight, but it's not that bad. Drek, what the hell should I do? Go find Ghost? Link with others? I don't know where others are and I don't have commlink to contact them. Frag!

Leaning on the wall darkened by the shadow, Nova tries to clear his mind and see the options he has.

First, commlink is broke and I can't contact anyone right now. Second, I saw Raiders went west. Either to sweep up the survivors or to regroup so they can organize search and kill. And there is always possibility of them coming back this way too. Third, Ghost's location, I’m not sure but it was somewhere in the Raider’s turf. He probably ran from them toward south but I don't know which way he went after we split and most likely have to face some of Raiders if I try to look around for Ghost, and my condition isn't fit for the fight yet. Which reminds me...

Nova cut himself from the thought, and looked around for some hiding spot.

I should patch up my self, before moving.

Near the wall where he was leaning, he spotted an abandoned looking building he could hide while he patches himself. He readied his gun for any possible threat and checked inside through the open gap on the door to see if this building is actually abandoned.

Well, few squatters but they are not much of threat. It looks like I can stay here for a bit. Maybe I can ask one of them to let me use their commlink too.

Nova holsters his gun and enters the building. Trying not to seem hostile as best as he can, he walks to the nearest squatter who's just chilling with other squatters.

"Hoi, chummers, having a good night?"

[WinterRat1]

00:33:14 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 132rd Ave. in the former Splintered Crash turf
Shade

Shade smiles and nods. "Fair enough. Then I'm going to go look for one, I should be back soon. With all the violence and killing around here the last few days, there's got to be a car whose owner won't be needing it anymore around here somewhere. Think you can look out for these two until I get back?"

[Fresno Bob]

00:35:24 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – 132rd Ave. in the former Splintered Crash turf
Aziz

Aziz laughs.

"Alright man... don't worry about us, I got it covered. And try'n get something that's got leather seats... I like to travel in style."

[HeySparky]

00:20:48 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Badmarsh

"I'm Badmarsh." The young man walks carefully around the corner. His steps short, awkward. A dim red glow shifts behind dark glasses, casting faint sliding shadows on his cheeks and brows. He's scanning the street. He talks, not looking directly at Bockscar, "You look like shit, Soldier Boy." The young man's mouth curves. Something like a smile. Without seeing his eyes, the effect is uncertain. Blood covers his abdomen and is generously spread in smears and spatters on his face and clothes and hands.

A shotgun hangs over his shoulder, shells crisscrossing his chest in bandoliers. He holds a pistol in his right hand. An assortment of gear clipped to his belt, including an RF scanner. He moves a bit past where Bockscar crouches, still looking off down the street. "Come on, let's move. Legion's not far." He backs up a step putting a hand under Bockscar's unperforated armpit and hauling him up and around the cover of the corner, brushing past Nevada. Around the corner are three women. His girls presumably. One's pupils are blown, she's twitching and shifting, a large bloodstain on her abdomen. Another is weeping silently. And a third is chewing gum like a nun works the rosary.

"Get up," he says. They clamber to their feet, two of them helping the wounded-stoned one. The shotgun-toting one looks on with some concern.

[Cedric Rolfsson]

00:16:33 Saturday November 1, 2070- 139th Place and 124th NE
Jaya

Jaya's breath rasped in his throat and his shoulder was on fire, so he slowed his ragged jog to a stumbling walk. He'd scrambled away from the Black Plague rats and was back on Corsair turf, or what used to be Corsair turf, where he knew the territory. He was only a couple of minutes from his doss and a time to rest and heal.

He stuck to the shadows and headed north for 140th and his place.

[rob]

00:21:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar

Ah, here's the mystery man. "Thanks," as Badmarsh gives me hand up. "I'm straight right now. Took a hit of 'kazi a few minutes ago, to keep up. When I crash, though, I'm gonna crash hard."

Look over this crew, then pull my rifle up and crouch round the corner, pointing back in the direction I came from. Lay the pepper grenade in front of me. "Raiders are behind me. I got more firepower than yall, and yall got more wounded. Bound across the street, through that alley down to 141st (points to the right). Flash your comms when you got me covered, and I'll follow. If you hear me start shooting - don't worry, you'll know it's me - bring your guns back and cover me. "

Cough up another small, scabbed hunk of blood. "And you look like shit, too, brother."

Lie down prone, with the rifle down on the bipod. Only my right arm, assault rifle, and head are sticking out. Pull the hand off the pistol grip and wave in the direction of the alley. "Gotcha covered. Move." See how this works. This kinda movement's hard to do if you've never drilled together.

[WinterRat1]

00:19:06 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Legion, Grack, Thumper, Doc

As the two sides closed the gap to hand-to-hand combat range, they immediately threw themselves into combat. In the midst of the fight, it was oddly silent, with only grunts of exertion and gasps for air rising over the shuffling of feet as they jockeyed and maneuvered for position. Out of the silence, a creepy laugh rose out of Doc as he screamed, "This one's for Memphis!" and swung his axe right at the opposing troll's head, aiming to split it like a melon.

However, the troll was less vulnerable to Doc's usually vastly superior reach than most foes were, and used his spiked baseball bat to swat the axe safely out to the side, then used the back swing to slam his bat right into Doc's now exposed side. Grunting in pain, the former 8-Baller struggled to maintain his composure through the stinging pain in his side, courtesy of the nails in the bat that pierced his armor.

As he staggered to maintain his balance, a pair of gunshots rang out and he was hit by two bullets that smashed into his armor. Although they didn't penetrate his massively armored hide, the extra momentum, in addition to the Plaguer's bat smashing into his side, was almost enough to knock him off his feet and to the ground. Almost.

What Doc had no way of knowing at the moment was he had Grack to thank for the shots failure to do any damage to him. As the dwarf was lining up his sights, our young stalwart hero burst from the alley to the south of Plastic Sushi and swung his mighty axe at the little halfer from behind. Although the dwarf managed to avoid the worst of the blow (translation: was merely badly wounded instead of flat out decapitated), he still was able to get the now poorly aimed shots off in time to hit Doc, albeit to minimal effect.

Off to Doc's right, Thumper was systematically bashing the Ork Plaguer he was fighting into the ground. Literally. Gripping the chair leg tightly, he kept swinging methodically at his enemy's head, smashing right through the other ork's attempt to block with the tire iron. With a grunt of exertion, he broke through the ork's defenses and knocked his foe to the ground, causing him to land flat on his back.

The Plaguer rolled and swung wildly with the tire iron, gaining enough time to stagger to his feet, only to be smashed right in the face with the table leg for his troubles. Sinking to a knee and bleeding profusely from his mouth and nose, it was obvious the ork was on his last legs. Blood pouring from his mouth, he weakly coughed out, "Stop! I give up!"

Maybe Thumper would still show mercy to his foe, but it was a certainty that mercy was not on Legion's agenda today. Smoothly swinging his katana despite his injuries, he feinted and weaved before snaking the blade through the elf's defenses and stabbing him in the leg with enough force to knock him to the ground. As the elf tried to stagger to his feet, failing miserably, his ork companion had enough time to stand and throw himself at Legion, snap blades flailing wildly, in a desperate attempt to protect his comrade.

Coolly, the leader of the Hammerpack sidestepped the feeble assault from the already wounded ork and almost casually impaled him on his blade. The ork's eyes met Legion's for a moment and he tried to say something. Then he spit up blood over the instrument of his death and the light went out in his eyes. As death claimed the Plaguer, Legion calmly lowered his sword and kicked the body of the ork off it. He then turned his full attention back to the elf, blood dripping from the katana in a steady staccato, splashing silently on the pavement below.

[WinterRat1]

00:21:00 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – At the intersection of 126th Ave NE and NE 142nd Ln
Bockscar, Badmarsh, Nevada

No sooner had Bockscar told his new companions to move out when he spotted several Raiders closing in on their position. Somehow he knew, he fragging knew that they knew he was there.

He wasn't sure how, but they were moving too carefully and too well spaced out for them not to. They were moving in a standard sweep pattern, too far apart from one another for either autofire or a grenade to get more than a couple of them. They knew what they were doing, and after his little surprise back on 128th, they were obviously taking no chances.

His instincts were confirmed a moment later when bullets whizzed towards his position, chewing up the ground in front of him and smashing into the wall he was hiding behind. Cries of:

"Over here!"

"We got 'em!"

"Take the bastard out!"

accompanied the hailstorm of bullets suddenly flying at his position. Yep. They know I'm here, Bockscar thought to himself. Sometimes being right really sucked.

[adamu]

00:19:06 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place

Grack

Young Grack's shiny axe was already swinging in a circle above his head before he tore around the last corner. Breaking neither stride nor fell resolve, he approached what he found to his delight was one of the filthy Black Plaguers that he was chivalry-bound to purge from the face of the good green earth.

And then time slowed in a way only seasoned warriors can describe - for as his pounding feet ate away the scant few meters between himself and the putrid little half-man, he saw that the bearded cretin was drawing a bead on the very object of his recent concerns, the troll prisoner! Oh, how in that moment his clever mind filled with visions of the Plaguer's bullets piercing Doc's brainpan just before the dwarf himself lost his head! But then the thought of the meddling drug cooker avoiding hours of torture so easily once again determined our hero's course, and on he charged with his unstoppable Grackbackattack!!!

But though weak and morally inferior, dwarves could indeed be wily and slippery opponents, and this one jerked to the side at the last moment, so that the axe bit deeply into his shoulder instead of taking his head clean off as had so nobly been intended. Blood sprayed as a chunk of flesh flew downrange, and a now righteously enraged Grack arrested his charge, turning on his heel to face the furry beast and finish what he'd started.

[Lindt]

00:19:17 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Intersection of NE 124th Ave and NE 132nd St
Child

Child sat in the alleyway checking the world of Miracle Shooter for signs of activity.
Someone a few blocks away, but shes not moving either. Funny how people turn to the strangest ways to try and get a feeling for peoples actions. Child sent the other girl a typical MS message "Shoot Straight, Conserve Ammo, and Stay Safe. Especially tonight.", and logged off.

Fool flopped down next to him. "Whatcha doing?"
Child took a second to shut down his comm, not knowing when the next time he might get time to charge it. "Making reservations at the Grand Hilton with the happy ending." he answered as deadpan as he could. Child stood up and brushed the dirt off. "Damm glad to see someone else. I was convinced that everyone else was dead. We where kinda minding our own dreck and the Steel Demons just rolled over the entire crew. I just got damm lucky thats all. I'm not sure what happened because I found a Hellhounds bike and what was left of its rider in the ally next door. I think they where gonna roll on us too, but Christy beat them all to it."
Child walked across the ally and leaned against the wall. "What the fuck are we gonna do man..."

[pragma]

00:19:06 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Thumper

Coming out of the dive for cover, Thumper bore down on the ork in front of him, combat boots grinding down on the debris scattered across the street. The wires were screaming that the opponent was winding up for a swing with his tire iron; the muscles in the other orks shoulder and arm were tensing agonizingly slowly. Thumper could see where the swing would come from, how it would slice wide across the empty air that his unnaturally amplified reflexes jerked him out of the instant before. Tunnel vision set in as he ran to make his vision a reality.

In a split instant there was a collision of bone flesh and wood as Thumpers predictions came true. The other ork collapsed under the force of the blow as Thumper wound up for another shot at the Plaguer's head. As the ork staggered to his feet the now bloody table leg fell against his skull again. The tunnel visiion was narrow, his vision constricted the the bleeding head which would split like a melon after one more swing. He raised his arm and ...

"Stop! I give up"

Thumper held his arm ready to crush his opponent as he breathed heavily

[grendel]

00:19:06 Saturday, November 1, 2070 – Plastic Sushi and the intersection of NE 141st Way and NE 124th Place
Legion

The elf was a spindly and agile creature, throwing himself back out of the way with only a superficial scratch to his thigh. Legion snarled, preparing to step forward and end his suffering, only to be preempted by the ork he slashed initially climbing to his feet. The burly Black Plaguer swung crazily with his forearm snap blades, a frenzy which only opened vulnerabilities within his defenses. Legion sidestepped, dropping his blade to low ready. Oddly, the ork took it as an invitation to lunge at the slim human, impaling himself on the sword. Dimly, through the thunder of blood in his veins, he heard the 'stop, I give up!' That took care of the live one. Smiling, he kicked the ork free of his blade and moved after the elf. Time to finish composing the message.