Alright, looks like Lalasa, Powder Miner, Caellath, and Harry Baldman get to be my guinea pigs/torture dolls/players. Sorry that this is a little late, but I've been sick as a dog lately.
Kalarii Nomuya
(Kalarii luck: 1+1)
Kalarii curses as she carefully extricates herself from the twisted wreck of her car, which, after an unfortunate incident on a mountain road, now lies half-crushed beneath a boulder at the bottom of a steep cliff in a densely wooded valley.. She knew that trying out that new hunting spot would be trouble, but had she expected something like this, she would have just stayed home. Cursing again, she slowly rises to her feet, finding that although her car is without a doubt beyond saving, she's completely uninjured, and even her clothes don't have so much as a speck of dirt on them. Looking up the cliff at the road, she can tell that it won't be possible to climb back up from here, but there might be a less steep spot nearby which she could scale. Cursing once more, this time for luck (for all good things come in threes), Kalarii starts to walk along the cliff base, before noticing her favorite rifle lying on the ground by the car and stopping to pick it up. Incredibly, even though it was resting right where the boulder should have smashed it, the gun's not damaged at all, although it feels a little light. There can't be more than three or four shots left in it, but that shouldn't matter too much. As far as problems go, having your car destroyed is far worse than running low on hunting ammo, and Kalarii can always pick up more at a gas station once she's gotten back to the road.
Hjorfur Stefansson
(Hjorfur luck: 6+2)
Hjorfur's grin becomes even wider than it usually is as his hand closes around something metallic wedged in the metallic innards of the jammed baling machine. The machine had jammed up a few hours ago after some idiot accidentally tossed his wallet into it, and even after one of the other mechanics fished out almost fifteen dollars in loose change, the gears still wouldn't turn, so the supervisor sent Hjorfur down to have a look at it. With a single swift jerk, Hjorfur frees the offending object, almost dropping it in surprise as he sees that it's no mere stone or broken tool head, but a nugget of gleaming yellow metal the size of a softball. "Gold", Hjorfur says in amazement, recalling the stories of how the river used to irrigate the crops used to be famous during the gold rush. He had always dismissed these stories as myths, but here he was now, holding a twenty pound lump of proof in his hands. Looking around cautiously to make sure nobody's watching, Hjorfur stashes the nugget in his toolbox and cuts across the field towards the parking lot, his grin now so wide that it's almost painful to maintain. With this much gold, he should be able to take the rest of his life off, so there's no problem with leaving early today... that is, if he can find his way to his car. The field around him seems to be going on for far longer than it should, but it's probably just his excitement messing with his perception of time. At least, that's what Hjorfur tells himself as he continues through the field of tall grain, not seeming to get any closer to the parking lot.
Marcel Johnson
(Marcel luck: 3+1)
Marcel yawns lazily as he hits the 'send' key on his computer, sharing the financial projection that he spent the last few hours working on with the rest of the company. Let's see how long this one makes it before someone declares it outdated and has me write up a new one, he thinks to himself as he swivels his office chair around in order to toss a paper plane covered in complicated diagrams and calculations into the wastebasket at the other end of the room. Being rather hastily made, the plane only gets about halfway to the basket before it stalls sharply and plummets to the ground, the dab of black ink at the nose from when Marcel snapped a pen in half out of boredom leaving a small spatter on the ground. As he stands up and retrieves the fallen plane, Marcel notices a brief flash of brilliant white light, and manages to raise his fingers to his ears before the piercing shriek of the fire alarm goes off. That's right, today's the day of the annual fire-safety inspection, also known as the one day of the year where Marcel wishes that he still worked on the building's first floor instead of the eleventh. Still carrying the plane (Which isn't easy to do with one's fingers in his ears), he steps out of his cubicle and heads towards the elevator before remembering that it's out of duty during fire-safety day and turning back around towards the stairs. Only after he's reached the stairwell does Marcel notice that something is amiss. While the stairs and hallway should be packed with people right now, they're completely empty, even on the lower parts of the stairwell which is always flooded with slackers regardless of whether there's a fire alarm or not. Maybe there was some sort of announcement that I missed or something, Marcel thinks, recalling how the intercom system in his cubicle had a tendency to cut out without warning, leaving him uninformed about company events. Well, he could either leave the building and use the faulty intercom as an excuse if it turns out that he did miss a message, or look around in some of the other cubicles to see if anyone else knows what's going on.
Jozefo Johano
(Jozefo luck: 1)
Jozefo groans as he comes to his senses, his head throbbing as his eyes slowly come into focus. The last thing that he remembers is trying to haggle with a disagreeable customer over the price of a set of steak knives. Putting two and two together, Jozefo figures that he must have been knocked out by a blow to the head after trying to raise the price another five dollars. Customers these days, Jozefo thinks to himself as he looks around at his location, which seems to be some sort of dead-end alleyway between impossibly tall buildings. Greyish-black clouds overhead threaten to start pouring any second, and as he struggles to his feet, Jozefo realizes that none of the buildings around him seem to have any doors, or even any windows below thirty feet up. Still, maybe he can find somewhere sheltered from the rain, or maybe even someone who knows where he is.
Author
Topic: Unknown: So the Journey Begins (Read 1802 times)