|Summary:||A few of Blue Earth's nightcrawlers encounter more than they bargained for.|
|Date:||February 25, 2010|
|Related Logs:||Loose Dirt|
It is first and foremost dark. The sun set a few hours back, a pretty display seen over the desert, before leaving Blue Earth bathed in only moonlight. Granted, it's brighter moonlight than city folk experience, but it's still pretty dim. The Church and it's Padre have seemingly long since gone to bed, candles in the windows almost down to the wick. On the grounds of the Church, a trash can has been turned over. It looks from the marks on the ground to have been drug to approximately mid-way to the street and turned over by some vandals. Blowing in the desert wind are a few fruit roll-up wrappers, cast offs from the Church's inhabitant perhaps.
"I used to love it here at night," Mia tells Zeke quietly as the pair walk toward the church. "Lucia was religious, but she never forced it on me. She used to say that God saw what was in your heart, not what you did in front of a man in a dress." The woman's lips twitch into a grin at that. "She was…well, an irreverent Catholic, to be sure. But she never missed Mass. I…hrm. I wonder what the kids are up to NOW." She nods to the trashcan.
Haven wanders along the walk across from the church grounds, closer ot the general store, a glass beer bottle in hand. Her truck is parked just down the way, and she's nursing one for the road. Her boots grind some loose grit as she moves along the pavement.
Zeke mms to Mia's comment and heads in the direction of the trashcan, likely to set it back upright. "Sounds like she was one interesting woman."
The headlights of a truck - too high for a car - are visible over the adobe wall around the grounds as Lucas Harper's tow truck rolls along down the road. It was yellow, once, but these days it's as much rust as any other particular color. Bits of broken road-gravel and grit crunch under the heavy tires as it rolls along, slowing down as it nears where Haven's walking. Neighborly enough, the man leans out the door's window, his voice audible likely even in the church yard as he calls out, "Hey there, darlin'. Everything going alright tonight?"
Chivalrously enough, he'd probably stop and check on any woman he saw walking along alone. He's done it before.
From the direction of the Graveyard comes the sound of heated voices, one high pitched and easy to make out: "I don't care! We had a deal you cretin! Give me what I asked for or so help me I will gut you like a fish! A big, ugly SMELLY fish!"
The other voice is low and rumbling like an avalanche falling from a distant peak. Whatever is said doesn't meet the satisfaction of the other party, because it starts in again: "I'm not paying you to think, I'm paying you to deliver and if you can't, I'll just have to get myself another Troll!"
Yes, that voice did indeed say Troll. What the hell is going on over in the graveyard?
Mia leans down to pick up the wrappers, shaking her head at Zeke. "I remember when we were that age," she murmurs. The truck's lights get her attention, but before she can say something, the voices pull her in -that- direction. Brows furrow a little and then she just sighs. "Great. I wonder if the padre knows he's got LARPers in his cemetary?"
Zeke frowns as he picks up the wrappers, and looks in the direction of the voices. "He's not gonna be happy, if I know the Padre at all."
Dark brows tick up as a man in a pickup calls out. Haven glances over, the bottle at her lips. "Did you seriously just 'ey darlin'' me, Lucas Harper?" But then those voices in the graveyard catch her attention. Yes, she can hear them. She glances down at her beer bottle, shrugs, and tips it back anyway. Her eyes happen to scan the couple that is Zeke and Mia, though it's a bit dark, she can sort of tell it's Mia. So she crosses the street, toward the chuch yard. This takes her right through the path of Lucas' truck. She smacks the hood a few times. "Come out and be social."
"Well, y'told me to stop callin' you sweetheart… keep narrowing my range here and I'm going to end up getting punched in the face," Lucas calls back cheerfully enough, clearly enjoying the game - or what he considers a game, anyhow - before she's banging on the hood. The stopped truck's brake is pushed into place, and he shoves open the door, hopping down to land on the blacktop with a slap of rubber soles on pavement. Rising from the slight crouch, he rotates one shoulder, rubbing it a bit as he laughs, "You askin' me to take a stroll in the churchyard with you after nightfall, Haven? What /will/ the gossips say?" Still, he heads along after her, leaving the truck unlocked and parked on the roadside. No car thieves in this town, he figures likely. At least that'd steal the tow truck.
There's more rumbling and this time it's less like really hard to make out talking and a lot more like a warning growl from a lion. Uh oh. The high-pitched voice is heard again: "Don't you patronize me… I've been alive longer than most of your clan, you brute. I—PUTMEDOWN!" A squeal sails over the graveyard and lands with a painful sounding thump akin to wet meat being slapped with leather. …
A few seconds later, that same high pitched voice can be heard: "You and everyone in this miserable backwoods manape town are screwed! SCREWED!" There's a shuffle and a pause before chanting can be heard, the words spidery, slick and dark…
Mia waves a hand to the approaching Haven, dropping the trash she picked up into the can. "Not happy at a…what the HELL." She looks toward where the voices came from, head cocking to the side. A hand slides into her pocket, pulling out ye olde cellphone.
Sighing a bit, Zeke starts in the direction of the commotion. "And me without the shotgun… shit." He looks to Mia and nods, seeing her with the cellphone out already.
"'Magine they'll keep it to themselves, they know what's good for them. I think that's Mia and the Mayor." Haven asides to the mechanic, then jerks a thumb in their direction and heads on over.
"Since when've the busybodies in this town kept anything to themselves?" Oh, the irony laden in that question, given the layers of secrets that Blue Earth is built upon. Lucas seems ignorant of the irony for the moment, though, strolling along after Haven towards the graveyard— pausing at the shouting and chanting, glancing sharply towards Haven, tensing up, "You hear that?"
Haven glances over at Lucas. "You got a tire iron?" She turns, and heads back for his truck as the weird noises begin. She wants to go running in with a tire iron? Bode well? Not… really. "How about a bat?"
"You do remember I told you I was loadin' up the truck's gun rack back at the bar, right…?" The news about 'giant coyotes' had Lucas just a mite nervous for some reason - or if not nervous, at least wary enough to be ready. The mechanic backs up a few steps at all the clamour, and then he turns and books it back across the street towards his truck, "I got a tire iron if you /really/ want, though, sweetheart! It's your funeral."
There's a bellowed roar from the Graveyard and suddenly a part of the wrought iron fence gives way with a scream and a large black form can be seen tumbling end over end across the grounds in the moonlight. From behind him come smaller, but more ominous shapes. Shapes that are vaguely human, but are staggering along like no healthy human being ever should. They walk with their hands raised to about shoulder height and forward, groaning as their decaying bodies resist their movements. Zombies pour out of the graveyard. One is wearing a conquistador's helmet and cuirass, while another has on a monk's habit. One's flesh is of a sort of vaguely jello-like consistency that threatens to pour forth if it's skin is split, while another is like a chicken bone with most of the flesh gnawed off. And following behind is a zombie in revealing (ewwwwwww) strapless dress… she looks like a mummy prostitute.
Mia grabs the trash can lid and puts it between her and whatever's approaching. Yes, smart woman she is, she scampers back slightly toward said trash can. "Zeke, look out," she calls. Ahhh, ye olde trope - dumbass woman screams at a zombie attack.
"Call me sweetheard again, and I'll feed you your own tire iron," comes Haven's reply. She nods, "I want a tire iron. A gun with this many people around is like asking to catch one in the ass." Which translates to: Haven isn't great with guns. She's already headed for the truck, so zombies are going to have to play catchup! The first thing getting stripped off that truck is something heavy, with which to swing!
Oh Zeke sees it alright. He reaches into his jacket an pulls out his .40, even though he's pretty clearly surprised. But hey, it's Blue Earth. "I see it." he calls to Mia.
As they reach the truck, Lucas jumps up onto the connection between the cab and the tow rig; one hand grabbing hold of the back of the rig and his other hand grabbing a large bolt-action rifle from the rack that's up against the back window. "Back seat," he shouts to Haven so she can grab the tire iron, turning and hopping down. Then he pauses. "…aw, fuck. Zombies. There goes /my/ night." He pauses again, squinting, "What the /fuck/ are they wearing?"
Haven scrambles for the cab of the truck, her ass hanging out as she yanks open the door and tears around for the crowbar, like a druggie going for that last fix. She half backs, half slides out of the truck again, her prize held aloft. "Bring it." Have has a few frustrations to work out, and who gives a crap if they're worked out on zombies, even when she knows zombies shouldn't exist. She's just drunk enough to not give a damn.
"SHIT!" Zeke yells as he misses. "Watch it you guys!"
Lucas drops down from the back of the truck, chambering a round in the rifle and bringing it up to his shoulder in a surprisingly professional fashion; squinting slightly as he sights down the barrel, muttering under his breath, "Need to have a talk with the padre about lettin' folks get buried lookin' like they're about to go trick're treating." Wait, did Haven just go running past? "Whoa, Haven—" Ah, hell. Time to start shooting.
While the Troll continues to fight with whatever it barrel-rolled out of the cemetery with, the zombies lurch towards the warm blooded human types with open arms and sharp dirty nails. "Muuuuuurggghhhhhhhhh." They are hungry!
Oh, lovely. Mia keeps the trash can between her and the zombie who's chosen her as its brand new friend, the can lid held out as a shield. Her other hand? Well, her thumb's busily hitting 9-1-1. "Dolores, it's Mia. Tell the sheriff we've got some some trouble down the church. Bring some guns and bring some fire."
"OWSHIT," Mia howls as she gets hit. One hand continues beating at the Zombie with the trashcan lid, even as she falls back to her ass in the dirt. Scramble, scramble with her feet - well, foot. The other one's dragging a little. Her hand slides into her pocket, frantically searching for…a lighter!
"Oh for FUCKS SAKES!" Zeke moves to cover for Mia, switching targets and dropping to a knee.
"Ow, motherfff—" Haven cries out, taken aback by the strike from the zombie making it through her defenses. She smacks the bastard in the chest. "Touch my tits again, you grimy little fuck!" Now she's mad, which, on Haven, looks a lot like murder. She rears back with the crowbar, and clocks the monk.
As swiftly becomes obvious, Lucas's rifle is not meant for hunting deer. It is meant for hunting elephants. The report echoes over the churchyard as he fires, the bullet tearing through the swollen, pus-filled zombie and out the other side in a splatter of bacteria-engorged gelatin squirming with maggots. You see, people, this is why he hates zombies. That's just fucking disgusting. "I'm gettin' too old for this shit," he mutters, swinging the barrel to the next target. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me — is that a fucking troll over there?"
The epic fight between the Troll and his adversary becomes clearer now: the "Troll" is roughly human shaped, but with muscles that would have made Arnold (in his hayday) weep. In fact, it's so muscled that it's almost deformed looking with a mop of ragged black hair atop it's lumpy head. The hair is braided and in the braids are something both clear and shiny in the moonlight: fruit roll-up wrappers. Across it's chest is a trash can lid, while on it's arms and legs are pieces of mailboxes, signs and the cap from a fire hydrant. Clearly he's girded for war.
He's fighting something that's a little harder to see, but no less strange: a pointy-earred, dark-skinned midget in an inky black skinsuit that leaves nothing to the imagination. He's not an attractive little man or a very physically powerful one, but he has something that makes up for these deficiencies:
From his perch atop the Troll's head, purple-black energy crackles from his fingertips, lashing out and striking the creature he's riding and flaying skin from flesh.
As the battle rages on between all the combatants, more dark shapes claw their way up out of the soil of the cemetery and groaning with every step, begin to make their way towards the warm bloods.
The sweep of the tire iron is swift and hard. The metal connects with bone and there's a heavy, meaty wet crunch as the monk zombie's head is wrenched free of its spinal seat, and sent end over end across the road, like a melon going for home! Haven swings the crowbar back to a ready position, and kicks the zombie's fallen corpse. "That's what happens when you take liberties." Her eyes turn. "And this." She eyes the dress wearing zombie. "Is for assaulting my eyes with that dress." She's pretty drunk, y'all.
Zeke winces. "Ow… sonnofabitch!" He aims and shoots again. What the hell else can he do??"
"Yee haw! One shot, one kill, motherfucker—" A shout from Lucas as the next shot takes off the arm of another shambler, sending it crumpling to the earth; he rechambers a round, sweeping the rifle's barrel to track on the next target, "RANGERS LEAD THE WAY YOU UNDEAD PIECES OF SHIT!" There's a midget in a bondage suit riding a troll. He'll deal with that in a minute, okay? There's too much to deal with right now.
Haven takes a cuff to the side of the head. She nearly goes down ass over tit, but just ends up stumpling and going down to one knee. "The … hell." The world swims and spins, and Haven grabs onto the nearest tombstone, but slowly slides down the side, and ends up on her back anyway. "Uuuhgg."
Apparently, all of Lucas's shouting caught some attention, as he's promptly mobbed by zombies… and that's not all. As the half-naked zombie lunges out for him, he ducks under her arms just in time to catch sight of a large, tree-sized club come slamming down in his direction. "I'm a little busy here," he shouts back to Mia, diving out of the way—just in time to take a rotting boot to the stomach, causing him to stumble , gasping for breath. "Oh you… did not…" The rifle's brought up at point blank range, blowing the cowboy's stomach out his back.
Unfortunately, the stomach is not a vital organ at the moment. "Haven, you a'ight?"
Scrabble, scrabble, scrabble. Mia's regained limited use of the bitten limbs, so moving's a little easier - though she stays on the ground. A few words are murmured under her breath as she goes, still swinging the can lid.
Running to Lucas' truck, Zeke comes back with a gas can and a couple road flares. He lobs the gascan at the slutty zombie, just trying to get SOMETHING dead, and lights a flare, tossing it after the can. Then, he lights the second flare and moves toward Mia
Hm. Lucas didn't actually get an answer, there! As he recovers his breath, he glances over to see the woman on the ground with a half-skeletal figure standing over her, swearing under his breath. "Told the damn woman to get a damn gun," he grunts, lashing out with the butt of his rifle that snaps off a few fingers of the zombie as it reaches back to strike again, moving to try and duck through the melee to get over to her aid.
Thunk. Haven, mid-trying-to-get-up-again, takes a hard hit to the chest, which just sends her flailing back into the tombstone she was using for balance. The headache she's going to have in the morning, er, if she wakes up in the morning, is really going to be epic. And so it is that the Medic is taken out of the fight by a blow to the head! She sprawls over the grave dirt, nappy time!
Zeke's aim flies true and the gascan hits the Slutty Zombie in the face, spilling gasoline all over her in the process. The lit flare following after it strikes the gasoline and the zombie goes up like a human shaped (and extremely disgusting smelling torch)! Ol' Slutty goes flailing around blindly, completely helpless.
Zeke grins, seeing the gas covered zombie go up like a big'ol torch. He's standing by Mia now, lit flare in his head to try and scare the one attacking her off and aims at it, taking another shot.
Yay, fire hazards! Mia continues trying to move back out of the way, one side of her chest shredded, her right arm and hand bloody and bleeding, and her right leg just as bad. She stumbles to her feet after a moment, swinging, just in case Zeke's flare misses the Mormon.
"I've got you, darlin'," Lucas mutters under his breath as he ducks and weaves with expert skill through the battlefield; dodging zombie claws and worse things reaching for him like the star quarterback making a run right through the opposing line. It's amazing, it's spectacular, it's—
— well, it's all those things right up until the point that he trips over the tombstone and goes down right on top of Haven in a hard tumble, his rifle skittering away across the dirt as he falls. His other hand… well, let's just say that it's a good thing she's unconscious right now, and leave it at that. Otherwise he'd have worse things than the troll to worry about right now.
Zeke manages to get a short off at everyone's favorite mormm and sees the Slut heade is way, so retargets, hoping beyond home to make this one count.
Well hell. This can't be good. Mia continues to back pedal, right up to the point where she trips over something on the ground. Now she can add pride to one of her injuries, given how hard she lands on it. The lighter she'd been flicking goes sailing toward everyone's favorite Mormon Zombie.
The situation seems pretty dire and despite a few landed blows, the mini zombie horde closes in for the kill so to speak. It's then that the raging combat between Troll and whatever the hell is on his head ends rather abruptly: the Troll rolls into the fence and with a sickening sort of pop, the little man on his head is smashed between the metal and the creature's heavy skull.
As soon as the life leaves the little guy (which is pretty damned quickly) purple-black energies seep out of his eyes and mouth, drifting across the grounds towards Mia.
The zombies, as one, fall to the ground completely lifeless. Rather suddenly, the church grounds are completely silent.
"Alright, I think I've had enough zombie fightin' for one night," Lucas mutters under his breath, pushing himself up a bit and reaching out for his gun, "Time for you'n me to beat a tactical retreat here, sweethear— " There's that damn zombie cowboy boot again, coming up in a kick against his chest that flips him over, coughing, "— sonuva— " The rifle's swept up… and then the zombie collapses to the ground, and he lets the rifle drop.
"God /damn/ it," he shouts into the churchyard, "I'm supposed to be /retired/ here."
"Fuuuuuuuck" Whuffs Zeke as he catches one in the chest. He blinks as the zombies all colapse and moves to check on Mia, calling to Lucas; "Haven alright??"
Finally. FINALLY Mia gets a hit in. It's the last time she swings that trashcan lid and damned if she doesn't connect - long enough to feel the reverb all the way up her arm. "Ow," she murmurs, backing a few more steps away. "Zeke, you hurt? Haven? I know you're alive, Lucas…"
Haven is having a nice little nap, and only bleeding from a cut high on her hairline — but you know how scalp wounds bleed! She's probably righteously bruised, possibly with a cracked rib or two. It's hard to tell, with her still sprawled out on the ground all lights out-like.
Oh, yes, Lucas will probably pay for that grope later, even though she's not aware he did it, somehow. Somehooooow.
Zeke nods; "I'm alright. A little banged up.. not as bad as the rest of you I don't think.. God I need to start backing more artillary."
"She's still breathin'. Might need t'see the doc…" So might Lucas, really, he's finding it a little hard to breathe right now, but that can probably be chalked up to the multiple kicks to the chest and stomach he'd gotten. He pushes himself up to a seated posture, grimacing, reaching over to lean over Haven and make sure she actually is breathing. "Could be a busted rib, hard t'say."
He pauses, then looks up and over, "Uh. Hey! Giant troll guy! Everything cool now? No more… stompy stompy?"
Lucas' answer comes in the form of a low rumble. It wouldn't be impossible to make out, except it's in a language no one in the cemetery probably understands. The creature lurches to it's feet, wrests the remains of the necromancer off of it's head and tosses it aside like refuse. Then, flexing it's ginormus muscles, it turns and grabs something from just inside the fence… something blackened and charred with blackish scales and sloughing pale pink skin. Haven, if she wasn't knocked out, might recognize it. Mia, thankfully not knocked out, recognizes it if she looks as the creature from two weeks ago that was killed and then carted away by the Sheriff's office. It's still rather rigidly dead, but smells about a million times worse.
Mia moves to put herself between Lucas, Haven and the troll. Zeke, gun in hand, settles in right by her side. Oh, yeah. She recognizes it. Her nose crinkles, quite a bit, and she makes a little gagging noise at the back of her throat. "Remind me to kick Dolores' ass," she mutters to no one in particular. "Please take your trophy and go somewhere else," she calls out to the Troll. Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.
"Right. Of course! He was just looking for his pet dog! Ha-ha… god, I hate my life," Lucas's cheery tone trails off into an equally cheery but far more fatalistic mutter for the last, and he slings the rifle over his shoulder as he sits down next to Haven to wait for reinforcements. Or to be crushed by a giant club, you know, whichever. Catching sight of a cowboy hat wearing skull near his foot, he kicks it. Seriously, who dresses up people like this before burying them? That's just fucked up!
It's unfortunate that Mia looks towards the Troll: it causes her to miss the energy wafting across the grounds behind her. With a little whistle of air, slips up her back, through her hair and into her nose through her nostrils, vanishing into the woman. That can't be good. Lucas probably caught a flash of it out of the corner of his eye, while Zeke definitely saw the thing and where it went.
Meanwhile, the Troll collects his 'trophy', grunts at the humans and then strides off into the night, leaping a few fences before disappearing from view. Just another night in Blue Earth, is all.
The town doctor sneezes, briefly, then shakes her head as she watches the Troll go. "Lucas, can you grab me Haven's bag from her truck? And call Dolores on your way…" She's in first responder mode now, missing the sharp look from Zeke. He tries to get her attention, but, well, she's focused.
"Yeah, yeah," Lucas reaches out to grab hold of the offending gravestone, using it to lever himself up to his feet. Unfortunately, it's been abused a bit too much tonight, the edge breaking off in his hand and causing him to stumble a bit. He pauses a moment, glaring at it, then kicks it enthusiastically a few times, muttering, "See how— you like it—" Then, rubbing a hand against his own bruised stomach, he drops into a short jog towards the street to carry out the doc's wishes.