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[ggamer]

Several hundred yards away from the group, a lone figure observes the shenanigans via a rifle scope.

"Fuck me silly, newcomers! Been a hell 'f a time tryin' ta' find some allies in this damnforsaken hellhole, maybe they caooohhh sakes alive not again."

The figure slowly looses his chipper attitude as the horde approaches.

"Mongols. Fuckin' Mongols. If it ain't the goht damn four foot tall ants it's the fuckin' Mongols."

He looks down to the small crowd assembled at the mouth of the bunker.

"HEEEEY! WATCH OUT YA' DUMBASSES! THERE'S FUCKIN' MONGOLS RUNNIN' ROUND!

[Wayward Device]

"Too right mate. Too right. Remember those two munters Sid brought to back with us after? The fat one broke his bed and when he tried chuck 'er out she was sick in his snare drum. Now that was a party.

The conditions of the last year had been hideous, trapped deep in the earth, seeing the same people day in day out, not knowing if all of civilization had been destroyed  and last but not least, eating a friend. Seemingly returning to some semblance of normality once free from the metal tomb that had saved his life, the Englishman turned to the two outsiders.

"Sorry to be abrupt just now, you know what its like when you've been trapped deep in the earth, awaiting uncertain death for a year."
He laughed then and a fair judge would say it was not hysterical, but only just. He composed himself and said 

"My names John. John Utland. So the big question now is what the fuck do we do? Stay here or leg it? Personally, I vote that we fuck off sharpish."

Hearing a cry in the distance, John pulled a worn .22 pistol from a holster hidden in the small of his back.

((Um, so I should probably say a few basic facts about my character, because Gavin and John obviously know each other from before and LordBucket has been trapped with us for a year and we obviously would have talked all about ourselves out sheer of boredom if nothing else. Basically, I'm not a member of Gavin's band but an old friend and drug dealer. I don't want to impose anything on your character hubris_incalculable, i.e. that your character takes drugs, but nor do I find it unreasonable that a mid eighties punk band touring America would invite along their drug dealer friend. Incidentally, while I was thinking all this through, I realised that we are in the right time period for your character to claim to have invented straightedge, although back then it was more "no booze or drugs, only sex AND fighting like a crazy man.

Basically, I'm taking a leaf out of Lordbucket's book and playing myself, but if I was as old as I am now (24) in 1982, hadn't decided as a young man that selling drugs was an overly stressful career path and had by luck survived the alt-history apocalypse. Gah! EDIT due to ninja action.))   

[Hubris Incalculable]

((@ LordBucket, even if your character is called by your username, everyone else seems to have one. 'dja mind using them?
@ Wayward, that's quite alright. Gavin's not a druggie himself (more of just a heavy drinker) but we can say that Sid was, and that's how we knew you))
"Cheers, mate." Gavin muttered to Bucket as he took the gun from the man with the strange name.

Hearing a shout, he turned and looked up at a man crouched on a ruined office building.

"OH, IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL 'EM? THEY DON'T LOOK LIKE FOOKIN' CHICKIES TO ME!" he hollered back, and turned back to the others. "Yeah, i'm wif John 'ere, let's move it."

[Phantom of The Library]

Yoki turned around to look at the mongol horde approaching, sure enough there he was leading the front.  Yoki's arch-nemesis Ghengis Kong!   Half man half ape monstrosity! 
Without losing a beat Yoki dove to the white, ashy ground and began to dig a hole.
Come on help me dig fer a weapon! he yelled.

Almost a mile away Ghengis Kong leader of the New American Mongol Hordes Associated felt a disturbance in the radiation.  That idiot Yoki was here. 

[Wayward Device]

"What the fuck? What the fuck? Did the Russians focus the energy of a nuclear blast into the spin of a micro wormhole and rip a hole through the dimensions? Is it aliens? It had better fucking not be aliens. My little pistol is going to do fuck all if its aliens. If someone tells me that elves are real and gave the Russians magic wizards and radioactive bear cavalry then I'm going to take out my knife and stab until I start crying. Please, somebody tell me what the fuck is going on! "

((Wayward Device has enjoyed the start of a fine forum game recently. Wayward Device is Ecstatic.)) 

[LordBucket]

((@ LordBucket, even if your character is called by your username,
everyone else seems to have one. 'dja mind using them?

(Fixed. For reference, our cast so far appears to be:

Gavin, played by hubris_incalculable
Yoki, played by Phantom of The Library
LordBucket as himself
Peter, played by Spinal_Taper
(no name specified), played by ggamer
John Utland, played by Wayward Device)

[Spinal_Taper]

"Oh my god... It can't be him. He killed my*parental figure*" Peter drops to the ground, and offers a prayer to Gordon Freeman.

[LordBucket]

LordBucket takes a moment to absorb this new information.

"...so let me see if I understand all this. Genghis Khan 1) Is not a man. 2) Is not a zombie. 3) Killed Peter's singular parental figure of unspecified gender. 4) Here.

And you guys just showed up with him and his Mongol horde in tow?"

LordBucket blinks a few times and frowns.

"...I take it you guys lied when you said you were here because you 'heard' that we were short of food. Did you just stumble on us while looking for a place to hide, or were you hoping we'd help you fight? Because I don't buy that it's a coincidence that he killed Peter's 'parental figure' and that he showed up just a few minutes after you two did. And right now fighting a horde of Mongols isn't very high on my list of things to do. In fact, I'd say it's quite a few steps below 'bludgeon myself with an unabridged dictionary' and maybe a couple steps above 'give self sex change with a rusty spoon and no anaesthetic.'"

LordBucket blinks a few more times while he contemplates that last one.

"Ok, maybe it's several steps above that. But still not very high on the list overall."

[Llamainaspitfire]

A Frenchman emerges from behind His room's Door, Holding a Revolver In hand.

"Zo, Zwat is Le' plan? Le'cause, Le' Robere' here is Le' curious." Robere asks.

[Spinal_Taper]

Peter has absorbed the might of Gordon Freeman. He lets forth a terrifying cry of "..." and his broadsword has become a sacred crowbar. His carbine, blessed by the might of the Free man, has become a gravity gun.

[aaron32]

Far away in the distance, A man with a guitar and some sort of amplifier walks through the dirt, Singing a small song, His voice being heard from miles away.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

So, Bye bye miss american pie, Drove my chevy to the levee, But the levee was dr-

In the middle of his tune, He is interuppted by a seeming gang of survivors in the distance, Bringing the microphone previously next to his guitar up to his face.
"Hey! You's over there! Who tha' Fuck ar' Ya'?"
((I'd rather establish my name through IC conversation, But this guy's actual name is "Lucas Perkins"

[Spinal_Taper]

Upon hearing the song Peters says "..." and heads to fight the lncoming mongols.

[Wayward Device]

John tucked his .22 into his belt, so that it was still within easy reach and drew his flamberg, twirling the five and a' half foot blade through a few lazy arks, the morning sun glinting on the wavy metal. He had had the thing since before he had been forced to hide in the fallout shelter so many months before. Some days he thought he could remember wining it off of a morbidly obese antiques dealer in a game of two-up after that gig in Chicago. Other times he could almost swear that it had just turned up one day with the new amps. Regardless, if anybody wanted it they could take it from his cold dead hands. He laughed inside his head without making a sound, wryly musing to himself that the prejudice against Americans for being stupid was clearly bollocks, any nation that could invent such a succinct and emotive phrase to describe the atavistic love of killing and maiming tools had to have some serious national smarts going on there somewhere.

There was a look of seriousness and calm on his face as he looked around the group, which someone who had known him for a long time would recognise as slowly encroaching panic.

"Lads? This is fucked. Rob? I hope your ready to move. Please tell me you've got that pack of cigarettes with you. Please. Bucket, I'm with you. Those...man-apes... are getting closer and I question whether Mr Dual-wields-two-handed-weapons can beat a horde of creatures who seem to have twice as much muscle mass each as his whole bodyweight, matter warping powers or no. Also, I can see the glint of a scope on that office block roof that we heard the shouting coming from. And there's another crazy musician coming towards us (*aside* No offense, Gav mate. No offense. *aside*). Let's move."     

((@LordBucket, viz-a-viz names, I've been going by the assumption that Bucket is a nickname we gave you during our mammoth bunker survival and cannibalism bonding session. Especially since this is a very musiciany nickname, as in "Bucket, couldn't carry a tune in a". Although, once again, not to impose anything on your character (you're playing yourself and you could be a RL musician for all I know). Although then my assumed nickname would make even more sense as a piece of inter musician banter. Anyway, just my thoughts on why we've been calling you Bucket.)) 

[ansontan2000]

From the direction opposite of the Mongol horde, a motorbike can be heard in the distance, followed by a long roaring sound and a shout.

"Heya, bitches! Want some of ol' Dick's Guns n Ammo? I gotz plenty of dem 'ere! Pft, you'll need them if you're planning on surviving that horde o' fuckin' Ongols."

[Llamainaspitfire]

"Why, I Le' happen to do." Robere Says, Pointing to a Large trenchcoat pocket, containing Two packets of salvaged cigarettes
"I have most things in my pockets, actually."