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[Fury] Time to Get a New Fence (August 2.4)
August,
You find a suitable shelter in an abandoned shipping warehouse within sight of the place where you used to ply your trade - the harbor. Where Harbormaster's boat used to sit proudly on the crimson sea, there is only fiery wreckage, parts of the boat still above the sludge-line.
And there is a sound, August, mixed in with the thunder and the rain hammering against the metal roof of this warehouse. The sound is low and constant. Easy to miss as it’s the kind of sound your ear can tune out. Engines? A low rumble of a roar like some mechanical beast come to life. You can't see exactly where it is coming from, it feels almost omnipresent.
What do you do?
Comments
I don't love coming round this neighborhood, but I used to know my way around here. No reason for there to be that sorta noise. Sounds like a stuck gear that can't shift maybe. Makes me wish Tin-Girl was here. Or even Pine -- I laugh a little to myself. Been awhile since I wished that woman was around.
I get distracted from the sound by the wreckage in the harbor. My mouth hangs open a little until I realize I'm staring and close it with a conscious effort. What the hell happened? I glance at Drumma to see if she's agitated -- sometimes she knows there's trouble before I do -- then peer around at the skyline, the room around me.
Can't stop thinking about the red wave.
Reading the sitch.
(Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 1, 3. Total: 4)
What should I be on the lookout for?
August,
The directionless sound reverberates around you, through you. It’s a vibration you feel as much as hear. Thrum-thrum-thrum…
Looking closer, you make out the wreck of the master’s ship, licks of flame still cling to surfaces sheltered from the storm. Muddy footprints all around filled with deep crimson mud. You follow the prints with your eye and many of them lead up from the wreck towards the road. Must be where the others evacuated earlier.
But others come from the other side, rows of over-sized, booted footprints leading not from land, but from the muddy, shallow sea. As if some number of people? came from the crimson to overrun the waterlogged ship and burn it. Then return.
There’s no sign of anyone still here, but your eye catches bullet holes… or is it shrapnel scars, tears in the paint and rends in the metal parts of the old ship. Whatever happened here happened fast and with extreme violence.
Rain falls around you and that damned sound just won’t stop.
What do you do?
That noise is enough to drive you mad. I wrap my coat around me, make sure my hood's up, so I can get closer to the ship and see more of where these footprints go, or whence they came. Anything to get away from the noise.
August,
You close on the wreck, make your way down the gravely path, the half-buried logs Harbormaster had put in the act as steps for his clients, and the boardwalk of plywood and two by fours leading to the ship which squeaks, still, under your feet.
You can feel the heat from lingering fires as you step on board, the hulk shifting ever so slightly under your weight. Muddy red footprints lead this way and that, like some number of strange invaders swarmed on board the burning vessel looking for... for something.
Drumma calls quietly from her perch on the rail and it makes you look up... out over the blood sea.
Your sharp senses catch something across the harbor. Obscured by the misty red rainfall you catch a light out there over the water where there really should be nothing. Not a light... lights. Glowing within a hulking squarish shape atop a long, low hull on the water. Wires and some kind of skeletal girders stick out and criss-cross over the dark deck.
A ship.
Out past the breakwater. Too far to see clear but it's larger than Harbormaster's little pleasure boat. And it's out in open water. A seaworthy ship?
What do you do?
No floodin' way.
I'm staring at it, thinking not much more than Naw... when I think of the bridge in the story of Mikela and the Sea. Is this some threat that Harbormaster has riled up, and will bring down upon us? We have no castle to defend and this is one ship, not an army, but what am I if not an emissary? If they've found a way to stay afloat, do they also know how to stop the wave?
I swallow, hard. Are they the wave? No. They can't be.
They can't.
They might.
I need to know. I'm running for my bike, good sense left for drowning in the harbor. Engines growling, anti-grav revved hard, hair streaming out of my hood.
August,
Drumma hops off the handlebars of your bike and flaps wings up to perch inside the warehouse. It's pretty obvious if you take this trek, you're doing it alone.
If you choose it, please roll to head out into the storm prepared.
Braving the storm...
(Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 4, 6. Total: 10)
I get to my destination and I learn something useful. I also get a little redsick.
--End Scene--