exsiliumlogs | [PLOT] That's no ordinary rabbit

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[PLOT] That's no ordinary rabbit

Date & Time: All day Friday, December 14th and onward.
Location: Initiate Hold
Characters: All
Summary: The plague has taken hold and there are rampant, angry undead critters running around! Better get rid of them quick, before you attract the Scourge Horde.
Warnings: Undead attacks, localized around cute woodland critters.

[The death tolls of all the woodland animals had come around the same time. Some lasted longer than others, but for the most part, it appeared that most of the sickly animals had passed sometime in the middle of the night. The next morning, transports would awaken to find their furry friends looking...well, less than furry. Their eyes glow a sickly yellow, patches of fur fall off their body, and they continuously cry for help.

Help from whom? You?

Or the group of rampaging ghouls charging toward you?]

[ooc: Original plot post is here!. If you would like me to NPC ghoul attacks in your thread, please mark your subject line with three asterisks. (***) Otherwise, feel free to do it amongst yourselves! Please note that I won't be able to NPC threads until tomorrow afternoon.]

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It was the silhouette of the raised gun that convinced him the shadowed figure wasn't one of the undead. None of them had drawn a weapon on him in that way, despite some having the use of magic. "Hold," he called. "I'm no shambling foe."

Blaine snorted and lifted the barrel to the sky. "Shambling foe," and there was a hint of a smile as he said that. He stepped out into the light, covered in smears of gore and wet from the never ending rain. "Should have known you wouldn't stay inside."

"I never do, even when it might be prudent." He stepped closer at the familiar voice, still on guard but not in the same way he would be with a stranger. "I have to say it's somewhat surprising meeting you out here. Headed somewhere in particular?" He kept his voice down. The enemies were dead, not deaf.

Blaine took the provided opportunity of not being alone to load up a clip or two with bullets and put them back in his pockets, ready to go for later. His eyes stayed moving, alighting on Duncan every once in a while as he smirked. "I'm heading back to the apartments. Do I get the pleasure of your escort?"

"Let's go," he said with a nod, his usual affability lacking. "I'll flank. It'll give you better shots." He was also very used to watching his back. They weren't going to be ambushed that way.

Blaine checked his magazine with a quick button push and then slammed it home before he moved forward. He was used to watching the back, but he wasn't with someone who worked with guns, so it was better for him to be the lead and keep Duncan out of the way. His gun came down, pointing towards the ground but ready as he walked on bent knee towards the apartments. No words needed. The less noise the better because he could hear the moans not too far off.

It went well enough for the first block or so. Half a street over an entire knot of them were worrying over something Duncan was just as glad he couldn't see well in the darkness. It was eerie how all of the heads jerked up almost in unison and over toward them.

"We've got company incoming. If we don't take them out, we're going to lead them right to the hold." That was the last thing they needed. He had already been there for one mass run on the place. He didn't want to be the cause of a repeat.

Oh, lovely. That uncanny head swivel and then the rheumy, filmy eyes zoomed in on them. "Freaky as fuck," Blaine muttered, and he lifted his gun without pausing. He fired off shots in pairs, bursting heads as he kept moving, expecting Duncan to make sure nothing came up behind them while he picked off what he could from the one clip. Then he ran empty and ejected the clip, shoved it into his pocket and pulled out the next. "Any more coming?" Unfortunately, gunfire could draw the... smarter ones.

Duncan didn't bother watching where Blaine was shooting. By this point, there had to be a certain measure of trust that he was competent with the weapon, given he was alive out here in the dead zone. Instead he did exactly as he was trusted to do, covered their backs so nothing came upon them unaware.

He wasn't right in a position to answer the question when it was asked, stabbing and lopping heads and limbs of a few that came from the side street. As always when up close and personal in melee, the rule of the road was don't stand still.

He returned to his side breathing more heavily. "I took out the front runners. We should keep moving so they won't zero in. You manage that big group?"

There was the click of the magazine sliding home. Snap of the slide. Then Pop pop. Pop pop. He could hear Duncan's breathing had sped up. Yep, there was some coming from behind alright. He started to step forward, on the look out for zombies shambling from the allies in front of him. "Yeah, they're done. The alley to the Hold is clear. For now. Let's move." He started forward immediately at the fastest pace he could do safely. They could outrun them, but falling was the last thing you wanted to do, no matter how slow the undead bastards moved.

"Good." He didn't waste any more time with talking, once more falling to the flanking position and keeping his eyes open. Fortunately, by the time a few stragglers reached where they had been, the two of them were far enough ahead not to be easy to spot.

Only when they were much closer to the hold did he speak again. "What were you doing out here? I thought you preferred staying out of this sort of action."

Blaine's pace slowed only marginally as they spoke and his eyes never stopped sweeping from side to side for any small critters that could be lurking where the human sized couldn't hide. His voice was still low, and it didn't lose its calm. "I try to, but my roommate had a moral crisis and so I came with him as back-up. We got separated a while ago." Not that he was looking for Gordon. He seemed well able to take care of himself, surprisingly. Now Blaine was letting off steam.

"Who is your roommate?" Speaking of roommates, it occurred to him he ought to check on his. This sort of situation wasn't one for children, not that he was in any real position to parent.

"Gordon Freeman," he said, half-way to aiming at a movement out of the corner of his eye before he relaxed back into his ready mode. Just something blowing in the wind. "If he's not back yet, I may have to go out to get his crazy ass."

Says the person who gleefully went out with him. Yeah, who's crazy?

"Ah, my sometime weapon training partner. I ran into him earlier. He was alive then at least." How much earlier he couldn't say. He wasn't keeping track of time out in this mess.

"Oh? Good he's still scuttling around here, but who's training who?" Blaine straightened up a bit as the Hold came into view, but his vigilance didn't suffer.

"Call it a cultural exchange," he said. "We're both getting something out of it." He didn't think he would ever give up his melee skills in preference of the ranged advantage but loudness of guns any more than he thought Gordon would become a crowbar master. It never hurt to expand horizons.

"Three of them close to the entrance there. I'll lure them off to the side." He was worried that firing that close to the building could possibly hit anyone near the doorway on the other side.

Blaine smiled. "I may have to ask you for some of that cultural exchange as well, to practice." He stood ready. "I'm ready."

"I'm always willing to train. Just let me know when it's convenient for you." He nodded and stepped back. Within a few steps, he had blended into shadow, aided in good part by the gore splattered all over his armor.

When he came back into view again, it was from a different angle than where Blaine was waiting. He didn't know how much cognitive power the creatures had. The less idea they had of what might be coming, the better. As soon as they saw him, they left the area in front of the entrance at a fast shamble. He stood still long enough for them to clear the front of the building, then took off at a sprint.

"Will do," he replied softly. Then he watched as Duncan led the zombies away. They could be pretty fast when they thought a meal was nearby, but they would have to be super lucky to get a chunk out of the other man. There wasn't an opportunity for a shot. Even if there was, shooting towards the building was a bad idea.

He slunk his way to the door and crouched in wait for Duncan to return and kept the immediate area clear of any undead.

Once he had enough of a lead on them, he circled around and flanked them. They were still looking for him when he cut them down with efficient brutality from behind. He made sure he wasn't followed by more on his way back. There was no sense in trying to sheath his blades. There hadn't been for a long time now. He'd only foul the sheaths and make cleaning much harder than it needed to be later.

"It's me," he called a bit before reaching the door. Better safe than sorry.

Blaine would have admired the quiet efficiency, but he was waiting when he heard Duncan announce his presence. He stood and held the door open with his foot and gazed out until he could close it behind himself.

"Are there less out there where you were?"

"I took care of the ones following me. I didn't see any others," he said. He squinted when he stepped into the light and made a face when he noticed what they were tracking in. There was nothing to be done for it. He wasn't about to go grab a mop to deal with it right now.

"Guess I'll take a breather or two before heading back out. What's your plan?"

"Good." He stood in the doorway and slid the gun into his holster under his jacket. Then he took the jacket off, covered in sludge as it was, and cleaned his hands with it. "I'll rest a while, see how much ammo I have left. Then I'll decide what to do."

He nodded. "If you go back out, I'm sure I don't need to tell you to watch yourself out there." He decided to head for one of the training rooms to clean up rather than his apartment. If the kids were there, he didn't want to alarm them, or more likely give them a reason to want to go out and hunt monsters, too. He waved one dagger in something of a sloppy salute on his way down the corridor.

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