Kat blinks, watching Ethan try to recall a story. To fill in the silence, she offers another of her own...
"While we're waiting for Ethans gear to spin, let me tell y'all how I got my guitar...Rains already heard most of this, so it won't come as much surprise to her, but..
I was only 12. There was this old Mansion, a bad place most would agree. I went in on a dare..."
....
Kat had gone in on a dare.
She slips and falls as she tries to negotiate a portion of the sloping floor (almost everything but the walls seemed to be falling apart), Kats flailing hands missing the balustrade by inches. It'll be a few years before she gains the sort of grace and strength required to make such a way, but nothing stopped her from trying-even at 12, she was daring.
She hits the rotten wood floor badly. Despite her name, she doesn't always land on her feet. Luckily for her, nothing is broken-and the floor didn't cave out from under. Though it is making some stressful sounds...
Kat stays absolutely still, trying to gauge how bad a spot she is in. She had to wonder, again, why she came here. Her Mother and Father were pretty clear on the subject. The Old Mansion was dangerous-impossibly large (taking space for no other reason than it could) ugly, falling to pieces, yet impossibly strong-not to mention filled with...other things. Only experienced scavengers dared to go in. The people feared it, for few returned from it's depths. They were enchanted by it-because it was a symbol of the world-that-was. Luxury, power, safety, joy-the Golden Age of Humanity, before the sky was torn open. To think, people used to live in places like this? When they were lucky to not have their roofs cave in during heavy snows. Of course, everyone also said it was haunted. And in a way, it was. Under no circumstances was she to explore.
And here she was, tenderly checking her balance, feeling the floor crack...creak..pop. There was something down below. A minor miracle it hadn't woken up fully already.
She didn't want to know what it was-though she could hear it, and smell it. A steady, sleeping snoring (it trebled in speed as she listened, and she knew that was bad)-and a fresh, bloody smell. Like raw hamburger. If the fall didn't do it, well...best not to think about it.
Kat edged her way across the floor, as quickly and quietly as she could. One inch at a time...Kat didn't want to die here. In this moldy old castle...she felt very young, and very afraid. She wasn't the sort of person to give up, though.
As she reached the area around the stone staircase-mostly stable, here-when she heard a stealthy patter of large, soft paws behind her, kicking up clouds of long undisturbed dust. How could someone that big be so quiet, was her first thought-it slid through the ruins of the mansion with casual, almost contemptual ease. Kat only saw a few things through the clouds of sawdust, cut through by slanting sunbeams. Claws the size of swords. Paws half the size of her body, almost delicate in form, distinctly feline-but she could seem them gripping at the splintered wood with horrendous power. Luminous orange-yellowed eyes (the colors of dusk) burning in the gloom, streaked with veins of dark red. A mighty pale grey mane. It was beautiful and awe inspiring, even in the depths of horror. It was a MutaLion. The rarest and most ferocious predator, some said, in the entire wastes-ideally suited for hunting in the ruins of the cities and ruins it inhabited. It was rumored to be invulnerable to gun fire in all parts, except for it's eyes. They told tale it ate the souls of those it consumed. That it's belly was full of the undigested gold and precious metals of those it ate. It never died of old age, and pieces of the creature, when powdered and mixed properly, could make you mortal. But mostly, all tales agreed-you were going to die when you faced it.
Kat couldn't quite bring herself to run until it opened it's cavernous mouth, licking it's chops casually. Those teeth were longer than her arm.
She sprinted up the stairs-not heeding of danger, or the pain. If her leg fell through a splintered board...if she tripped...if she was too slow...Kat didn't hear the if's, only what she could do. And she knew she could get through the door ahead. Knew it.
When she tumbled through the doorway, feeling it's hot breath on her neck, she didn't even see the gap in front of her. Perhaps that was for the best-she ducked a massive paw, swung almost lazily, and fell...fell...fell. Again.
...
Kat wakes up, and it's pitch black. Part of her is afraid to move, to even breath. She reaches for her small lighter-hoping the light won't illuminate some horror, something she won't even want to comprehend before the end.
But being who she is, Kat flicks it all the same.
The room she is in is small-the floor under her, concrete, though it seems her fall was saved from being truly lethal by only luck. Her leg hurts bad, though. Might be twisted. She looks up. Dead end. Given enough time, surely, she could climb back up-it looks to Kat like she's at the bottom of what might have been an elevator shaft (though she's not quite sure what an elevator is), but even if she did, the beast would be up there-waiting for her. She knows it will wait.
The only way is forward-she hops a small concrete ledge, dragging herself through the remains of a sliding metal door, that some past scavenger no doubt pried open. Kat has an idea his bones decorate the Great Lions den, about now. She travels through dark paths, beyond memory and time. There's nothing alive down here. No...
...
Kat comes upon a door, in time. It's a vault door. A wasteland legend, actually. The Vaults. Supposed to carry the wealth of a forgotten age. Many people waste their lives looking for them. Kat has found one by accident.
She sees no way to open it-there's no handle, and it's far too large for her to move even if it wasn't locked. Kat sits down, enjoying a good laugh. All the wonders of the universe, and she'll never know, she thinks.
But her eyes are also sharp-and she spots something, inset in the wall. A small pad. numbers. 1-9 and 0, digital readout. She presses one on instinct. To her surprise, it responds with a harsh beep. Kat picks more random numbers. The readout fills entirely, then responds with an ever harsher buzz, and an automated womans voice, nearly imperceptible due to age.
"Acc...esss...deeeeny..duh..."
She plays with it a bit-finding small amusement, even in such dire circumstances. Right before she gives up, Kat concentrates. Like a whisper on the wind (a very, very faint voice), something comes to her. A bare emanation of the minds that used to reside here. She feels it's right-down to the marrow in her bones.
[1123-6536-5321]
"Acc...esss...grant..grant...grant"
Lucky guess?
Kat steps back, as the voice-to her it sounds almost ecstatic-finally gives out. The door slowly begins to open, ancient gears spinning, hydraulic pumps performing their final, solemn duty.
Inside, she will find death...but not her own.
The bunker Kat finds is nearly untouched by time-though the air of the wastes will no doubt corrode even this, now. It's hardly less ostentatious than the building that encircles it. Kat sees many strange things-a dried out concrete swimming pool (deflated pool toys lying in the bottom), a kitchen area (no food left she can eat-all the cans are empty), a massive four poster bed with rotting silk sheets (Kat still dreams of this vision, oddly enough), a padded floor with rusted weights strewn about (for exercise), several rooms of slightly smaller size and function. She finds the occupants. Almost a dozen of them scattered through the complex, rendered not so much corpses as mummies. Many of them seem to have killed themselves, Kat cannot help but notice...or been murdered. The violence will shock her more than anything-that perhaps the world before was not so bright and happy as they imagined. Perhaps it was more similar then anyone wants to admit.
...
It's not hard to imagine herself, here-in fact, Kat visualizes it quite perfectly, unknowingly aided by her strange powers. The bombs falling, the muted thuds above your head, the silent terror. But safe and secure, in this little space. Safe, but no way out. No way to get supplies. Living in relative luxury, as the sky tears open. You entertain yourself at first, try to concentrate on the fact that you survived above everything else. But it gets to you. It eats at you. Guilt-not everyone you knew got out. The walls close in. Can't breathe. Supplies run low. A dozen people, trapped down here? No wonder they killed themselves.
...
She finds the guitar in the master bedroom. It's owner, still clutching it's case. He bears no marks of violence. Whoever it was likely the last to die. Judging by the bottles festooned around him...he went out playing, and drinking. Kat supposes that's a good a way as any.
Something makes her pick up the guitar case. She'll replace it later, but it's done the job it was intended for-the instrument inside is almost perfectly preserved.
Kat's first instinct is to strum a note...
Kat coughs.
"...my first instinct was to strum a note. Poor guy, he just about collapsed as soon as I did-like he was waiting for someone to pick it up, so he could rest. To play. To remember...now, I found music down there too. You could say it was the start of my career.
I know, the me finding the guitar part was actually sort of short But it's the journey and not the destination, you kennit?"
She smiles, warming her hands by the fire some more.
"I'll leave the story how I got out of there, and not ending up Mr. Lion's dinner for another night." Kat says, throwing a subtle wink at Rain. She hasn't even told her that part of the story yet-no matter how many times she tells the first part, Kat likes to keep Rain in suspense until the end.
((The end. O_o))
Author
Topic: D20 Modern: After the end. Accepting players! (Read 54874 times)