[OPEN]

[deadlybanker]

Date & Time: During/After the bombing
Location: The Continent
Characters: Assassins and refugees - OPEN
Summary: Those who have escaped the bombings by going to the mainland instead of to the moon... (though they will be dragged up there come Oct. anyway)
Warnings: Possible bloodshed, roughing it in the wilds


To the moon they said, THE MOON? Why go to so much trouble when the main land was so close? Those who felt the same took to the waves to cross the channel and invade enemy soil. The seas were choppy but the real danger came from United Earth who had stationed troops along the coast to kill any who tried to escape the destruction. Still, if you were lucky, quick, or skilled enough you might stand a chance of evading the increased patrols and scratching out some kind of existence from the ruined landscape.

It was difficult to stay in any one place for very long. The United Earth kept their patrols active day and night and alternated their patrol patterns but occasionally small encampments could be formed in secluded areas. Campfires were dangerous but were the only real way to cook most food and supplies were difficult to come by unless one could hunt or make a daring raid on UE supply caravans.

It was a harsh life even harsher than life had been on the island prison, but it was familiar, it was the Earth and here one could make their own decisions.

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[OOC: Feel free to start your own threads, open or locked, and write them about what Continent based activity you would like for them to be about! ]

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Comments

open to anyone

[lazyinlove]

Stanley didn't care about anyone's distrust in the Initiative. He just couldn't wrap his mind around abandoning the Exiles. He'd never even considered reporting for transport to the moon base. He'd just given Peter permission to loot his room and set out into the city instead, to warn people.

If Giovanni hadn't crossed his path, he would still be there now. As it was, admitting to the Exsiles he'd grown to know and like that he was a transport had put a wedge between them anyway. He'd never be able to hang out with those guys again, even if they didn't all just die. It was depressing, and all he could do was hope that at least some of them had heard him out, and warned their friends. He'd boarded the escape vessel already numb and terrified, the fury of earlier becoming something heavy that wrapped tight around his ribs and was forgotten in the resulting daze.

Now that they were here, he wasn't sure this was the right move, either. He was cold, and hungry. Growing was a pain anyway, and so much worse when supplies were low. He wasn't the guy you took backpacking, and it was obvious. There were blisters on his feet from where his shoes rubbed -they were getting too tight- and his general expression was something like shell shock nearly all of the time. The one thing he did that was helpful was keep it to himself. He might grunt or whine or sigh when he got too tired or his stomach wouldn't stop growling or his feet really hurt, but he didn't verbalize the complaints. He didn't seem to have much of anything to say at all.

[deadlybanker]

It always seemed to end this way for Stanley. Sad, depressed, overwhelmed... It was easy to see how tired and worn out the boy was and he limped when he walked, so one of the supply runs might require searching for a new pair of shoes as well.

Giovanni did regret putting him through all of this but would the moon really have been any more comfortable? At least here they were free to make their own choices.

"Stanley, I meant to ask before, but what weapon were you given when you arrived?"

It seemed a random question but there was a thought behind it.

[lazyinlove]

"Weapon?" For a moment the word didn't seem to register with him properly. He'd forgotten all about weapons. Having not figured his out yet, they'd seemed unimportant. In fact, he had spent a long time convinced that he didn't actually have one. But the prompt made him think about it a lot more than he had been. There were a few things he explain, and after a moment of reflection it was obvious that they were somehow the stuff that his power was made of. He just wasn't sure how to explain what it was.

"I fixed a wall once. After...after the bombs. Last time. And I knew the code to unlock the doors when we rescued the people who got kidnapped. I knew how to pick a lock. And...I got caught. I didn't know I knew how to get away, so that guy kicked my ass first. But then I did know. I just know things like that."

The rambling sounded a bit strange in his somewhat hoarse voice, his throat was used to little use recently. It was useful, though. By the end of it he had realized definitively that he did have some kind of power, and he'd even drawn a tentative connection between all of the pieces. He was more than a little surprised by the news himself.

[deadlybanker]

"A weapon that is not a weapon?"

It was not unheard of. A lady he had spoken to had been given lipstick as her magical weapon. She had seemed uncertain how to use it or even how it could have been a weapon but... perhaps. Since arriving here he had seen magical things that had never seemed possible before.

"Then you yourself are a weapon," A caveat seemed nessacary here, "Of a sort."

Stanley would perhaps never be a strong fighter but...

"I was going to ask to see it but if the weapon is yourself then we are acquainted already."

escaping/walking to find a place to make camp/idk they're on the move

[givetheslip]

Maria didn't know the boy who'd taken the option to stay and ferry those to safety that they could, but she already thought better of him for doing so. Her own decision had been half inspired by incredulity at the proposed method of escape (really, the moon?) and half by outrage. This was a war, and people died in wars—she'd killed a fair few herself—but treating them as so much cannon fodder was appalling.

It seemed that not all of them who'd chosen the less cowardly path were accustomed to roughing it, though. She could see that much on his face.

"Your feet will callus over when the blisters burst," she said, taking a guess as to what had caused the unhappy expression on his face. "It doesn't help you now, but you'll soon adjust."

gotcha

[lazyinlove]

"Gross." He responded, and cast a glance down at his feet.The only callouses he'd ever had in his life had come from playing guitar, and once from helping with some rebuilding in the city after the bombs had been dropped there. He'd spent a fair amount of his lifetime trying to avoid manual labor. This was a new, weird experience for him when he stopped trying to wrap his mind around how awful everything was.

But he appreciated the woman's attempt to make him feel better about something small like his feet. It was a welcome distraction. So, he cast around for a topic to discuss with her along their way. Only one thing sprang to mind. "Thanks. So...you related to these guys?"

[givetheslip]

"Me? No, I've no family here," she said. "Less literally, still no. But we've a few things in common, such as not wanting to abandon people to die, and not trusting those who want to take us to the moon."

Really, the very idea was absurd.

"I've walked plenty of rough territory with others in my time," she added. "Even the most untouched lily-white skin grew accustomed eventually."

is action ok

[anotheryosuke]

[Naoya's pretty sure he's in hell at the moment; no offense to his companions, even if most of them are inexplicably hooded and mysterious figures that he only really recognizes by their voices -- he's pretty sure he's heard some of them over the network, and he thinks that particular one was on that mission one time. You know, the only one he went on.

It's hard to be sure, though, because they're all very sneaky and shady and scare the bejeebus out of him anytime he sees them, which is usually after he's already checked the same spot twice.

Be that as it may, it's the least of his problems. Stanley's not the only growing boy in camp, though he is the quietest -- Naoya isn't exactly whining, but he does make his displeasure felt in general grumbling (whether voluntary or involuntary). In a way, he kind of feels like he has to make noise, even if they have to lay low; between all the hoodies and how quiet his yearmate is and all the Exiles eyeing them sideways (he doesn't blame them) he's about to go crazy.

And that's not even taking into account all the other crap going on.

Once they do have some downtime, though, he takes up the following self-appointed mission: bother his yearmate. He looks kind of like he got hit upside the head with a brick repeatedly for the past handful of miles, but Naoya's pretty sure half of them (mostly Exiles) look like that. (Granted, he doesn't really know what expressions there are under the hoods.)

So, once he finds the guy, he drops unceremoniously down next to him and gives up on tact because you know what--]

Hey! You can talk, right, I mean, I know there's not much to talk about these days and we're supposed to be shadows in the night and all, but... I don't know about you, but if we all keep communicatin' in grunts much longer the UE won't recognize us anymore.

[Sudden considering headtilt.]

Okay, maybe that's not a bad thing, either, but I don't wanna regress to caveman, okay?

sure

[lazyinlove]

I can talk.

[His voice is a little hoarse from not being used, but it's there. He looks almost like he's been shaken suddenly awake from a deep sleep. Disoriented and alarmed. Where'd you come from, dude?]

Just don't know what to say.

[anotheryosuke]

There we go.

[He brightens when responded to, leaning in a little more to peer at his companion -- what do you know, the guy has expressions after all, too! For a little while there, he was wondering if they actually picked up one of those zombies he heard was in the Outlands without knowing it.

Though, if this guy were a zombie he'd be a pretty harmless one, surely?

Be that as it may.]

That wasn't so hard at all! I mean... Yeah, I get that there's not much good stuff to talk about, but. [No, there's really not that much by way of cheery anything. What's going through his head right now is I could really use some spaghetti with meatballs, which he has to work not to blurt out. That would just be mean.] Hey, what's your name? I can't tell the hoodie-guys apart, but I need to stop callin' the rest of you 'hey you' already.

Open

[mentore]

[Ezio, truth be told, was never pleased by a majority of the tactics employed by either party. Too wild, too brutal, too unrefined, that is what he thought of this whole ordeal. But then again, war never was easy.

The Assassin had taken to watching the patrols, eying the UE to see when he could dart in the shadows, steal food and possibly equipment when necessary. As it stands, Ezio is snapped low to the ground, close enough to see but far enough to be unseen.

Would it be beneficial to simply kill the patrols to allow for the Exiles to move freely? This is a question he ponders now as his golden eyes follow the tracks of patrols, behind some ruined piece of shrubbery and rock, peering over the edge.]

sup

[lazyinlove]

[Stanley is a kind of weird addition to a group of assassins. He's a skinny teenage boy with pretty hair and no stomach for violence whatsoever. Whatever made Giovanni invite him along, there's a good chance it wasn't any illusion about the kid being useful. He spends most of his time apparently on the verge of freaking out completely.

But that expression on Ezio's face is hard to ignore. He protests, a little hoarsely, breaking his usual silence for once.]

They're people too.

[mentore]

[He turns to face the newcomer, one that certainly seems green in more than one aspect. Ezio is aware of the humanity of the enemy, and he would be a fool to discount them on what they are capable of doing.]

We are all people, so last I have seen.

[lazyinlove]

Yeah.

[Thats what makes the whole thing so depressing, isn't it? But he's not actually looking for an argument. He just doesn't want to see anyone else hurt again any time soon. It feels like too much.]

Can't we...sneak past? Or someone. Maybe not me.

[Its a blunt, honest statement, not anything bitter or self effacing. He knows his own limits, is all. He can sneak around well enough to get by in everyday life. But war? Against people with weapons? He's pretty sure he's not ready for that one. His knees shake a little at just the thought.]

Open

[deadlybanker]

[The bushes behind Ezio parted but a friendly voice a moment later indicated it was not an enemy sneak attack. Giovanni dropped to the ground near his son.]

There is a second patrol coming up from the west. I asked the others to move east to avoid them but this group had something very large with them on a covered cart.

They will be coming up this path shortly, maybe you could use your gift to find out what it is.

[mentore]

Perhaps I can, if I can be closer.

[Ezio pauses for a moment, watching the patrol.]

And if there is something dangerous in the cart?

[deadlybanker]

Then they should not be allowed to keep it.

[It was no secret what United Earth would do with any weapon they possessed. Destruction and as always many innocent lives would be lost.]

I will be here to back you.

[Ezio's shoulder was given a fatherly pat as if he were still a boy being sent off on his very first mission. It wasn't of course, but it was the very first father - son mission and so deserving of the same sentiments.]

ever so slightly late but so OTA y'all

[anotheryosuke]

[Naoya is not supposed to be here.

Nothing ever seems to go according to plan, lately. It makes sense in a warzone, probably, for things to go hell in a handbasket every other move; but when he thinks about it, it's something that started a while ago. Nothing he does ever seems to work out quite right anymore.

He's blamed it on a lot of things, the weather, the curse, Kazami, Misaki and Sakaki, his phone, his family, the Initiative, the UE, lists like these are easy and soothing to make! On the other hand, they don't really, actually help. He's not made for any of this, or any of that, but here he is anyway.

He'd planned on helping out a little, maybe escorting them to the boats and then -- but then he realized that none of them were going back. He's the only one who hadn't thought it was a one-way trip, who didn't have a real map of the Outlands (as much as he tried to be prepared), who couldn't find his way back to the city on his own -- dumb, impulsive, always. He regrets that part. He regrets a lot of the things he's seen since, too, but what can you do? Some rides you just can't get off.

There's one thing, though, one odd and inconsequential little thing. He'd ended up leaving his motorcycle behind somewhere in the scramble around the border; it was still more of a dead weight than something to take him where he wanted to go, and that had been another regret, that he never got the chance to fix that. It's somehow more upsetting than anything else. Maybe it's because all the food was in there.

He's spent a lot of his time as a (unwilling) fugitive either sleeping and eating too little or too much (the sleeping, there isn't enough for the eating), uncharacteristically quiet but not wholly checked out -- can't afford that even though he's essentially useless here -- and that's what he's doing now, curled up in a catnap on the ground (the ground!!) a little out of the way.

It would be easy to trip over him.

Except that at some point if you look away and then back, he'll suddenly be obscured from view by an oddly familiar navy-and-orange motorcycle, leaning precariously, as though it's about to fall -- but it doesn't quite. How mysterious.]

Afternoon Campfire - Planning to go to the Mountains - OTA

[deadlybanker]

It was a rare thing these days to be able to sit down and cook a meal of any kind but one of the recent raids had allowed them the luxury. Giovanni sat near the fire making sure the flames did not burn out and the smoke stayed to a level where it would hopefully go by unnoticed by enemy patrols. He was only watching over some stew meat simmering away in the confiscated helmet of an UE soldier, but it might as well have been a feast. After days of nothing but hunger or barely palatable ration packs it was beginning to smell wonderful.

Giovanni spoke to any who had chosen to sit around the campfire with him, refugees who had taken the warning and escaped with the group and other transports alike. Like it or not, they were all in this together and should be given a say in what they decided to do now that they had escaped both organizations.

"I have been told there are mountains. It might be a wise idea to head for those. We might be able to lose the patrols in the rougher terrain."

He stopped speaking long enough for the idea to settle in before adding the cons to that plan.

"But, it would mean moving deeper into UE territory. I am not familiar with their cities and bases. Does anyone know of any reason we should not travel in that direction?"

This was only a possibility, he was open to other ideas. Also... the fire needed more wood. He saw to that while the exhausted refugees spoke about the plan amongst themselves.

OTA

[onen]

Ziio cares little for the guerrilla tactics against the UE troops and their bases; she cares about staying alive, protecting her family and, above all else right now, finding enough food to keep them going long enough to determine what it is they'll be doing next. Their meagre supplies are growing short, she herself grows impatient while stuck doing nothing and Ratonhnhaké:ton is busy with things he will not explain to her.

Determined to make herself useful, Ziio ventures out into the wilds surrounding their camp, furnished with makeshift snares and traps to set for any game they might find in the area and combing the bushes and trees for berries, nuts or even the odd bird's nest. She does not fancy her odds, nor does she expect to be familiar with the fare the area might have to offer, but it is better than nothing and it is easier to do this than sit around waiting or hiding.

She has spent her life ghosting through trees and the wilds unseen- she is confident in her abilities to remain undetected if she has to, and if not... well that is what her hatchet is for.

Re: OTA

[givetheslip]

Days into this hurried expedition, Maria still hasn't seen all of her fellow refugees. She supposes it's to be expected—despite Connor's efforts, it lacked organization, certainly more so than the official Initiative-backed evacuation. She still finds the very notion of fleeing to the moon to be madness, but going along with it would have been easier.

And it would have been the wrong choice.

She isn't a hunter, but there are supplies she can gather, and scouting for UE patrols makes a neat combination of activities. Still, she's not half as good in the forest as Ziio is, so it only makes sense that she doesn't know she's not alone until it's too late.

Re: OTA

[onen]

Ziio's eyes are sharp, scouting for movement from prey (or predator), and as she spies the other woman heading towards one of the rabbit traps she set earlier, she tosses an acorn down into Maria's path. Unfortunately, her aim is true but a miscalculation of the Englishwoman's pace means that instead of harmlessly landing before her, the tiny projectile smacks her on the head.

Oops.
Ziio is perched up high in the branches if the ancient oak, obscured by the last of its summer foliage and bunches of mistletoe, but she calls down anyway with a trace of humour in her voice.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

[givetheslip]

Ow. Maria hisses and lets out a most unladylike curse at the sudden sharp pain in her head. But whatever missile hit her, it wasn't strong enough to break the skin, and the pain quickly fades.

She frowns as she turns to see where it came from, rubbing at the tender spot, but that changes to a smile when she realizes who's responsible. "We really do," she called back. "Especially if it means having things hurled at my head."

[iniquitas]

He'd known, even as they were saying their goodbyes over the tablets, that he wasn't going to leave. To be honest the moon had seemed a silly solution from the beginning, some kind of a fairy tale and even more ridiculous than the everyday reality of living in Exsilium. He'd shrugged it off at first, willing to at least play along if it meant survival, but that was before he'd known that Ziio wouldn't be joining the rest of the Transports on the moon.

Unlike the day he'd sentenced his own son to hang, he hadn't taken long to change his mind about this.

Finding them had taken some amount of skill, despite the group they traveled in, given the sheer enormity of the city. Thankfully Ziio had provided him a general direction, and his own Templar training and eye for detail had done the rest.

...and if he weren't quite certain that he'd meet more than a few hostile blades in doing it, he'd have simply walked right up to her and announced his intentions to stay as well. For now he keeps to the trees, always keeping the little camp within eyesight. It's not an ideal situation by any means, but it'll have to do for now.

[onen]

Ziio had found some nuts fallen on the ground, encased in bright green, spiky shells which had pricked her fingers upon closer inspection. They look like chestnuts, and so she had gone up the tree in search of more. Every little helps.

She climbs higher, taking what she can find and dropping the nuts into the makeshift pouch she's fashioned across her chest in order to keep her hands free. The tree is old, ancient she would wager, and she is conscious of the strength of the boughs and where to put her feet.

Something off to the distance catches her eye and gives her pause. She cannot see for sure, obscured by the branches as she is, but she suspects that dark, lingering shape is that of a man, and a man who wishes to remain hidden judging by the manner of his movements.

Abandoning her foraging for now and tying her spoils to the tree, she slips down through the branches and hops to the next tree, keeping high and hidden as she tries to get a closer look.