Topic: Reaping Athena's Harvest

The Undead

Date: 2007-09-18 16:43 EST
The freighter Athena, one mile west of Rhy'Din 18 September 3:05 p.m.

The Athena was silent. She'd never been a rowdy ship, but on a sailing ship there were always people on deck, always something to be taken care of. The empty deck, and its dangerous near miss with the lighthouse, was what tipped the old tugboat captain this was a derelict. Something had happened to these men....but that wasn't unusual. Maybe they were murdered by pirates, devoured by a sea monster, starved, or all swept overboard in a storm.

Empty ships didn't too often happen upon Rhy'Din, but they'd happened before, and Captain Aleksandroff did not let it bother him. He was merely glad he was the first to spot and claim the derelict vessel.

His four-fingered hand grasped the railing and he hoisted himself over, onto the deck of the Athena. His small crew was already hard at work, checking out the ship for survivors and goods. They were all belowdecks, and Aleksandroff strolled to the helm. There was an overturned bucket in his path, a long puddle of water...

...mixed with blood. Tired grey eyes followed several bloody smears past the helm to a break in the railing, recently broken off. The coppery smell wasn't very strong. He couldn't be sure when this had happened, but it was no business of his. Still....he chanced a look over the railing into the water, and was greeted only by choppy little waves.

While he sniffed at the blood, he did notice something smelled funny. Rotten. Like meat left out for days. He wrinkled his nose.

"Captain."

"Uh?" Aleksandroff looked over his shoulder; he couldn't recall the name of the sailor speaking to him.

"There are several tons of tropical fruit, most of it still good, and sugar."

"Survivors?"

The sailor shrugged, as two others emerged from belowdecks.

The captain narrowed his eyes, remembering something....maybe. It might just be old age. "Where's Patterson?"

The sailors looked at each other, each expecting the other to know. Finally one spoke up: "Did he even come along?"

Aleksandroff paused and hesitated to answer. He hated to admit that he couldn't recall. "He's probably back at the dock playing with that goddamned dog....Come on. We've got work to do."

* * *

The West End Docks 18 September 4:30 p.m.

Two sailors remained on the Athena while Aleksandroff tugged it into port — his crew was too small to handle the Athena and sail it in directly. When footsteps came from belowdecks, and the sailors heard the moans, they thought they'd overlooked survivors, victims of some tropical malady, they thought to themselves, when they saw the odd grey mottling of their skin. Their arms reached out, their feet moved slowly, they moaned incoherently, and one of the sailors moved forward.

"It's okay, guys..." Their hands grasped at him. The grip was like iron. "...Whoa. Hey, maybe you shouldn't — "

His last thought was worry about catching whatever it was they had, before one of them let out something akin to a short howl and sank its teeth into his neck. He gurgled and gasped, and sank to his knees as his two attackers tore at him.

The other sailor watched in horror, and when one of the "survivors" looked at him with white eyes, he grabbed a bucket to defend himself with. He let out panicked cries, swinging wide at it but afraid to get near; one swing connected, and sent the bucket soaring off into the water. The creature grabbed him by the arms and opened its mouth wide. He backed against the railing, the creature shuffled forward and bit into his arm, he screamed, the railing broke...

...and both toppled into the water.

Aleksandroff had cut the engine just in time to hear the splash. He hopped off the boat, rushed as fast as his old bones could carry him to the end of the dock so he could see around it, and saw the blue water turned an angry red. Whoever had gone overboard, had already sunk beneath the surface.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph..." The old captain crossed himself, muttering prayer until something creaked several feet behind him. He looked over his shoulder.

Patterson. But not Patterson. His skin was grey, his eyes were white, and he reached out his arms, stumbling clumsily towards his captain. The dock workers who had already put up the ramp had been followed down by the man, thought he was drunk and sick. One had even been scratched by him, drawing blood, but jerked away and laughed it off. Few had seen the blood on the decks, and those who did chalked it up to whatever reason the ship had become a derelict. They didn't even see several more like Patterson crawling down the ramp from the Athena to the dock.

But Aleksandroff realized very little of this. He shook when Patterson drew near and actually sniffed at him. Then Patterson let out a low moan, lurched forward, and tore and bit.

No one even came to his aids....for the dock workers were already under attack.

A disease, more than capable of turning into an epidemic, had arrived in Rhy'Din.

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-18 17:41 EST
The Eastern Point Lighthouse September 18th 5:30PM

The good thing about living in a lighthouse, even temporarily, was a Hell of a view. Up there, and out on the very eastern most point of the main continent, Harold could see quite a ways in all directions. He had a pretty good view, if not distant, of the docks. He could see quite a bit of the city, all looking at that height and distance rather like a toy town, and though most of his time was spent up there looking out to sea, he sometimes took an interest in the more land-based areas.

Today, however, he was watching smoke.

He'd gone back upstairs to take the blueprint and package Cinder had sent, and had chanced a look out. Far off was a curl of black smoke from some fire larger than just a simple campfire; it looked like either a structure fire, or something gone amiss dockside, more towards where the WestEnd narrowed and came up against the docks for a small section.

He frowned a little, looking at it. He couldn't hear anything, not that far away, but he wondered a bit what was going on. It wasn't too far from the Port South Holding House, and the Al Na'ir was down in port, as well.

That was enough to prompt an investigation. He pulled on a black denim jacket he had picked up the day before, something to ward off the chill of approaching fall, then started down the steps to go and see what was going on.

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-18 18:21 EST
The Brigantine Al Na'ir, Dockside September 18th 5:57PM

At first, it had just seemed like some idiot (of which there were plenty of in Rhy'Din) had managed to catch their boat on fire. Fires at sea were an immediate and life-threatening thing; fires on boats in dock, though, left room for ridicule.

At first, it seemed that way. But despite being safely ensconced inside of the fences of the Rhy'Din Salvage Yard, it became very clear, very quickly that something terrible was happening dockside. The first indicator was almost funny; someone reeling along drunkenly, shuffling slowly, groaning.

"Stupid drunk," Greystone, the Al Na'ir's first mate, muttered.

He didn't look over until he felt Jonson tug his sleeve, and point towards the fence.

The "drunk" kept running into it, directly across from the brigantine.

Looking right at them, or not looking.

"...sh*t."

"Is that what I think it is?" Jonson asked.

"It's a *&^%ing zombie!' Grey ran aft from where he was, barking for his crew; within a few minutes, everyone who had been within earshot was with him on the afterdeck, and everyone was watching the zombie shuffling up against the fence, again and again.

Groaning louder than ever, too; off down the way, Grey could see what looked like a small group likewise shuffling that way.

"We gotta put to sea—"

"What about the rest of the crew?" Duckie asked, though given the note in his voice, he wasn't big on arguing not to.

The crew all looked at Grey, and he was just about to give the orders when they heard a shout.

Harold Lowe, former first mate, formerly presumed dead, was pulling what looked like a glowing yellow sword out of the head of the now very dead zombie.

Not surprisingly, the crew that knew him had to wonder if he was undead himself, but that didn't matter; the little Welshman hollared, his voice easily carrying to the crew. Meanwhile, the group of presumed zombies was shambling not-so-presumingly closer down the dockside, now fixed on a target.

"Get that damn boat out of here!"

"That's the plan, sir!" Grey hollered back. "You seen the Captain?!"

"I'm going to try to find her, but get the Al Na'ir out, and heave to north of the Light! We'll signal from there!"

Greystone and mostly everyone who had worked with with Lowe in the past respected him. There were no dissenting opinions; Grey tipped a fast salute to Lowe, then started giving the orders to cast off and get the Al Na'ir out of there.

Busy as they were, no one had time to see Harold take off, running fast enough to easily leave the zombies in the proverbial dust.

Spirited Corsair

Date: 2007-09-18 19:03 EST
Daily Bread Bakery, Marketplace 18 September 19:00

It was a lovely day, typical of the last of summer. The days were bright, the nights were cool. Somewhere in the middle was suppertime, and the coming dusk. Maia wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin and cast a warm smile to Bertie Hausenfelter.

"That was really delicious, Bertie, it was kind of you to invite me for supper."

"Don't think it's escaped my attention that you cook about as well as I sew." With a self-effacing laugh, Maia's landlady attempted to scoop out and serve her a second slice of pie. Maia shook her head, trying to politely decline. Mr. Hausenfelter, the taciturn old curmudgeon, harrumphed and spoke his words of wisdom.

"Better to just go along with it. She'll never give it up. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go roll out that order for you."

"Thank you, love."

"Hmph," said the grumpy old man"but Maia caught him smiling in the reflection he cast along the darkening window.

"If you let me help you tidy, I'll eat the pie."

"Don't be ridiculous, you are our guest."

"Don't be stubborn, it'll take half the time with twice the help. At least let me take out the trash. It will help me to work up an appetite." The charming, crooked smile Maia flashed at Bertie Hausenfelter worked like a charm.

"All right, dear, but only because Ralmo's getting older. I don't want him throwing out his back."

As Maia breezed into the kitchen of Daily Bread, it occurred to her to count her blessings. Life was good. There was a place to live, there were people worth caring for in her life again, and there was a ship. By god, there was a ship. Humming a dirty shanty with a smile on her face, she gathered up the bag of trash, closed it tightly, and moved for the back door.

She opened it up to the alley, and found herself face to face with a man who had seen better days. He seemed drunk, but he smelled"off. He raised his arms, and rather clumsily lunged for her. Maia just had time to register the familiar look of a bloodstained shirt and a milky eye.

"Mother?" The captain shoved the bag at the zombie, pushing at him hard through the trash that was currently her only barrier. The trouble with dining in civilized company"

You don't bring your weapons.

She had long been quick on her feet, ready to improvise when the situation demanded, and if ever a situation demanded improvisation, it was that one. It stumbled backwards, clutching the bag to its chest. Maia backpedaled and slammed the door shut. Without a word, she crossed to Ralmo Hausenfelter and snagged the long heavy rolling pin out of his hands.

"What the hell, young lady?"

"Sorry."

She closed the door to the alley tightly behind her on her way out, and Ralmo heard only a rather exasperated holler, and a few dull thuds. When he peeked outside, he watched as the fierce little thing dropped his very favorite rolling pin atop the still body of the zombie whose skull she had just beaten in.

"Zombies, eh?" Ralmo possessed all of the calm of a man who had successfully survived living in RhyDin for seventy years.

"Aye. F—-ing Zombies."

He tossed her his apron. Maia used it to wipe the gore from herself, then left it on what remained of the monster. With a long suffering sigh, he moved into the kitchen to shut down the ovens and lock up the doors.

Ten minutes later, the pie had been abandoned and Bertie and Ralmo Hausenfelter found themselves following one heavily armed sea captain through the streets. Nightfall was imminent, but there was a safe haven ahead. The three of them just needed to make it to the docks, and to the Al Na"ir. Ralmo had a sneaking suspicion that (barring zombie legions in untold numbers) this trip to safety would not be a problem for the wild woman that led them.

Kacilla Lynne

Date: 2007-09-18 21:32 EST
West End, Streets 18 September 8:15PM

Half-drunk herself, Kacey moved with a slow shamble that seemed to be spreading - she'd seen a few others moving with that slight lurch in their steps, down the street. She wasn't moaning with hangover the way they seemed to be, though.

Headed home, from one of the rotgut little bars that had no virtues but price, so cheap. It wasn't until she saw one of the lurching figures lunge at a hooker, grab the screaming woman and start biting that Kacey put two and two together.

Her answer? An unpleasant four, as in the four that she saw on this street alone. So far, it seemed, her slow and erratic path had been a decoy from a distance, her drunken state close enough emulation of zombie movements that rotted brains hadn't noticed the difference. The chill of fear and adrenalin were acting as strong counteragents to the effects of bad whiskey, though.

She was completely unarmed, and the thought of picking up a blade again was almost as terrifying as the undead. Almost. Unfortunately, she was also several blocks from her apartment building, where her weapons rested encased under her bed.

With few options open, she took the one that seemed to offer the best hope. She shambled on down the street, maintaining the same half-lurching, erratic pace that had gotten her this far. It was only a few more blocks. Hopefully the zombies wouldn't get close enough to smell her fear. It was only a few more blocks.

Keaton

Date: 2007-09-18 22:17 EST
September 18 10:50 p.m.

Keaton was in his small studio that had a new fixture atop it — tens of feet of steel stretching from the ceiling — a radio tower for his latest little venture, Happy Fox Radio. His feet were kicked up, his headset was on, and he had a beer in one hand and his other on the controls. He was taking care of this little radio show himself.

Five....four....three....two...

"...And we're live! Welcome, Rhy'Din, to Happy Fox Radio! This is Keaton, your host an' all-'round music man with all the bes' picks an' shout-outs. Like ta start by thankin' everyone who's listenin', an' those 'a you who called in already to speak your mind, gimme the lates' Rhy'Din neeeews. "An' wha's in the news, but zombies! So far the Rhy'Din Watch has neither confirmed nae denied reports 'a the dead walkin' the streets, but I had plenty 'a calls. An' I hafta, say, come on, Rhy'Din! Zombies? Jus' a little local color gettin' a little too rough an' rowdy is what I say, but hey — you got an opinion about it, you gimme a call, an' I'll put you on the air as I'm able. "Meantime, for all you spook-believers out there, I'll kick off the night with a little Michael Jackson. It's Thriller. Watch out, Rhy'Din."

He chuckled, and then Thriller poured out over the airwaves....just as he heard a very odd knock at the door.

Carley

Date: 2007-09-18 23:34 EST
Econ-Omni Apartments, WestEnd September 18 11:13 PM

With an everpresent bounce in her step, Carley moved quickly down the stairs leading down from the second floor of her apartment building. Hand gripping the banister, she twirled about and hopped to the floor with a thunk, bypassing the last four steps. From there her pace only increased, anticipation and smile building as she scurried towards the locked brass boxes that held the mail of those living in the building.

As she approached her own, Box 14, she dug a rather large keyring from her pocket, littered and cluttered with keys of all shapes, sizes, and metals. She picked a dull brass one that matched the boxes themselves, and used it to unlock her box, grin forming as she peered inside.

Empty.

"Awww!" Her disappointment came out in a childish whine as she slammed box door closed, stomped her foot, and stuffed keys back into her pocket. "It's been way more than four to six weeks! I want my money back if they're not gonna send me my necklace!"

Lower lip puckered into a pout as Carley absently rubbed the bare base of her neck. With one last huff, she turned on her heel, prepared to march upstairs and back to her room but paused, finally noticing a small crowd gathered at the front of the building, near the entrance and exit. A couple people there had been watching her and her tantrum, but she didn't seem phased at all by that fact. Instead" She redirected her little self on that way, pushing her way past a couple people further into that crowd.

"Hey, what?s goin' on?" Bright blue eyes grew wide with curiosity as she eyed the people that towered and surrounded her.

"You haven't heard yet?"

"Gods, I'm so scared...they can't get in here can they?"

"Do you know where they're at' Are there any here yet?"

"I think we'll be okay..."

Cheeks puffed out as Carley furrowed her brow and crossed her arms, irritated as she and her question were forgotten in the midst of the murmurings of the crowd. With a roll of her eyes she was about to give up and walk off before someone approached her. A man. Tall and somewhat lanky, dressed in the official uniform of the Watch. Carley's expression became a little more neutral as he drew closer, and her head tilted to the side and back to regard him better.

"Is there a problem?"

The guard shook his head, giving a somewhat somber smile. "Something like that. I'm warning people about the zombies as I make my rounds. This building was on my way so I figured I should drop in and spread the word..." He trailed off momentarily, noting the look of disbelief on the little elf's face. "I don't know many of the details myself, but there's been a bit of a breakout of zombies. They're spreading around the city slowly, but they're spreading. There's even been a few sightings around this area."

"...zombies." Her voice deadpan. Carley's brows lifted faintly as the guard nodded, then she rolled her eyes. "I've lived here a while, and I know a lot of stuff happens here, but that's gotta be one of the stupidest things I've ever heard!"

A couple people in the crowd watched, but most who were familiar with the little elf started backing away, trying not to get involved. The guard seemed irritated, frowning at Carley, but tried to maintain his patience. "I can assure you that this is no joke, and it's something to be taken seriously. If you're bit-"

Carley cut him off. "I know how it works! But it's still stupid! If there's zombies around here, then I'm the queen of them." Sarcasm weighed heavily on her voice, as she threw her arms up suddenly, and crossed her eyes, an attempt to make a goofy face. "Dur hur, me eat your brain. Braaain. Graaaa-AAAAAAAARGH!!!!"

The guard had drawn a tazer from his pocket, and pressed it into her side. The people who had been watching? Oh you better believe they were moving away.

"You're under arrest then!"

Taking her words seriously, he withdrew the tazer, put it back into a pocket and exchanged it for cuffs. He spun the disoriented little blonde thing around, drawing her arms behind her back in the process, and slapped the cuffs on. All business, he took her by the arm to steady her, and started towards the exit, no one stepping in to defend the elf.

All Carley could do then, was mutter a few expletives beneath her breath before she was carted off to the Rhydin Jailhouse.

Keaton

Date: 2007-09-18 23:35 EST
18 September 11:32 p.m.

The Rolling Stones' "Gimme Shelter" fades out, and Keaton's voice is back on the airwaves.

"...Right. Zombies are very real, and they're gathered outside my studio. Soooooo....a thousand silver to the first guy who can bring me three Hawaiian pizzas."

Elly

Date: 2007-09-19 02:14 EST
Elly's Atelier September 19 2:56 AM

"After he was bit, they just opened fire..." "...They didn't even wait for the change to take effect." "He still had his humanity; his sanity. The look in his eyes. God..."

The Witch was hard at work, deep in her atelier, but she couldn't help but pause on occasion as Jameson's words echoed in her mind. She shook away the last batch however, and kept pressing on, despite the late hour.

In front of her was a mess. At least it would probably be considered a mess to onlookers, if they had been around. There were vials full of liquids, of different colors, textures, bubbling, smoking. There were pastes and powders, herbs and berries, leaves and flowers. Even a portion of the wings Chryrie had given The Witch were laid out to the side.

A mess to others, but she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew exactly what to mix, how much to mix, what not to mix. She moved and worked with expertise and poise. She had been for hours, and continued to do so even longer.

"Done, finally~"

Shoulders rose and fell as she exhaled a sharp 'whew!'. The fruits of her labor were organized together and carefully set aside before she rose to her feet, heels lightly clicking against the floor. She moved away from her work station and over towards the door, peering out into the store area of the atelier.

Sure enough, Jameson was still there. Handsome even if a little awkward, young, and wearing his uniform, the new member of the Watch looked a bit sullen. He sat alone at a table, a pie set out for him untouched. Hearing soft clicks, he turned his head towards The Witch. Standing up, he studied her inquisitively. Mouth opened to speak, but closed when she gestured for him to approach. Doing as instructed, he moved that way and followed her deeper in her work room. If he were of sound mind, he may have noticed the poster of the scantily dressed man stepping out of the shower hanging on her wall, but he was here on a mission. All business.

The Witch turned to pick up the box that contained the fruits of her labor. At least a part of it. What were they' They didn't look to be much. Small syringes with capped needles were organized in the box. There were three colors; a pale pink, a pale yellow, and a pale blue, almost clear. Turning, she moved back to Jameson.

"I managed to make a vaccine~ It's not very good since I didn't have much time, but in theory, it should work~" Honestly, she wasn't certain it would, nor was she certain about the percentages she managed to calculate. "The success rate is really low, less than twenty percent, but that's better than the current chance of survival after being bitten~" She handed the box over to Jameson. "That should be enough for your station~ Now that I have the formula right I should be able to get it to the other stations quickly, and to the townspeople~"

Jameson looked over the box, then back to The Witch. He looked grateful, even if he couldn't find the words to communicate it.

"I wrote the instructions for it too, they're in the box~ The blue is for humans, the yellow is for any human mix, and the pink is for anyone who isn't human~"

Not long after the exchange, the young guard who had just lost his best friend left The Witch's atelier, accompanied by some pumpkinheads for protection. Now armed with a big pot of coffee, she was prepared to get back to work again. Perfecting the vaccine, working on medicines that could possibly slow the change of living to undead, and maybe even reverse it. It'd take a considerable amount of work however. But she was convinced that this disease was the same as any other disease. It had a cure, and just needed to be found.

This was going to be a long night.

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-19 02:36 EST
The Eastern Point Lighthouse September 19th 2:49AM

He listened to the quiet, but his thoughts were still running exhausted tracks. Old tracks, and new ones. He didn't know if Maia had fallen asleep, but the elderly couple that they had gotten out of the city was. Harvey, he wasn't sure about. Sev....he wished she was up there with them, even if she would probably be safe enough in the base of the massive lighthouse.

He listened to the quiet. He was so used to the sound of the lighthouse working by now that it didn't really register with him anymore.

Somewhere, a few miles away, the city was likely in chaos. And like Maia, he felt the tug to go and do something about it.

But without rest, there wasn't much either of them could do, except try to fight tired and maybe end up dead. He'd fought enough times in a state of exhaustion that he knew he could if he had no choice....but it wasn't wise.

That didn't make waiting any easier.

It was only after trying to fall asleep for too long that Harold remembered his duty. That was when he got up, cursing himself for waiting this long, and stopped the light.

For the first time since it was reactivated, the Eastern Point Lighthouse was still and quiet. The light still shone out, but fixed in one direction; fixed on the beautiful brigantine hove to out there, waiting for word.

He used a blanket to signal morse to them, hoping someone out there would understand it. It was a very simple message:

Maia is safe- stop Await word for plan - stop

Then he moved to the second part of the task. The light was made so that its colors could be changed. The red zone marked rocks offshore, but it was nothing for him to move the covering so that the light rotated red in all directions. He did that, and then at the small panel, he changed the sequence. It wasn't used often; he'd never seen the light pattern used in his lifetime even. It was a quarantine warning....close enough to the truth for now.

It was some small thing that would maybe save lives.

The lighthouse started up again, this time in red the whole way around. The pattern told anyone who would see it from sea simply this:

Beware these shores; death is here.

Feeling a little better that he had done one more thing, hopefully for the good fight, he went back to his nest of blankets and curled back up and closed his eyes to try and sleep.

Through the night, his lighthouse, his beautiful thing, stood sentry for him and the beautiful things it now protected.

Reprisal

Date: 2007-09-19 03:36 EST
West End " Alleyway September 19th " 3:07 AM

Finally getting the upper hand, he crushed it's skull with the axe handle. He winced as the putrid smell coupled with the spatter of vile liquid pelted his chest. Where the hell these things had come from, he didn't know, but here they were. He had "killed" at least ten of them now. They seemed to be growing in number. The scum of the city he had been "bringing to justice" a week ago were now the people he was trying to save. He was sure that some of the citizens he had freed from these zombies were none other than the same criminals he had been fighting to remove from the city; but the screams. The screams of panic and cries for help were all he heard from them now. It was impossible to discern what type of people were begging for assistance; it didn't matter.

He had seen the unfortunate result of a bite from one of these creatures. Within minutes, you became one of them. One of these undead, rotting bags of flesh. He could not let that happen to anyone, regardless of who they were. The nightmare of what you became was unimaginable. However, there she was. He turned his gaze to the woman he had tried to save. She lay on the ground in the alleyway, still breathing, but wounded. The bite was bad; bad enough. He wasn't the only one who knew this. The woman, still conscious, looked down at the bite mark on her leg. She knew it as well.

Their eyes met. His were filled with concern. Her eyes said one thing. They plead for release. Release from what would be the obvious result of her wound. He could not deny her request. No man could. He crouched down low behind her as she sat in the alley, crying. He held her. She squeezed his arm tightly. "Thank you." was all she said. Placing a hand on her head, and one on her chin, he twisted. Death was immediate.

Tears fell as he lit the body of the woman on the makeshift pyre. It was hastily put together, but would do the job. He had no more time to mourn. The situation was becoming grave.

Sevarenia

Date: 2007-09-19 04:28 EST
It was dark, Very dark. And there were zombies everywhere. And Eastern point lighthouse was a veritable anti-zombie fortress. Sev loved her toys and you could tell by the setup in the yard. Motion sensor cameras, explosives on a remote detonator switch, even a pressure and body heat sensitive live wire trap, not that she knew if electrical current would do a lot to a zombie.

Harry, Maia, Harvey and the old couple were all asleep upstairs. Harvey had left his com-set on broadcast so that she could hear what was going on. She had heard Harry get up, then moments later saw the change in the pattern and color of the lighthouse light.

Checking the monitors, and seeing all quiet outside for now, she decided to make a quick trip down the beach to the beach house. Sev's clothes were much to big for Maia, and Maia's were totally ruined. She had bagged them in a double layer of plastic after the woman had gone back upstairs and set them aside. But Maia and Hannah were much the same size, and Han had left her more "duty ready" clothes at the beach house. So out into the darkness Sev slipped, collecting Mock Turtle, the beige and green pegasus that ran like the wind but hated to fly, she made the run down from the lighthouse.

Kalis-nar

Date: 2007-09-19 04:32 EST
By order of Kalis-Nar, 900 troops, mages, psions and clerics of the God-Emperor of Athas, marched out the gates of the Fortress-like Embassy, just minutes after the sounding of a great horn. They marched into the streets with one purpose to eradicate all zombies in their path, with military precission and absolute discipline. Showing no fear, they would strike down any zombies they came across. Each squad of troops, no less then ten number, were accompanied by at least two psions, a mid to high level mage and mid to high level templar. And if things got bad, the mages and templars had orders to summon fire elementals and golems of stone or of obsidian, to burn and crush the zombies. Those who served Kalis-Nar would not stop until this zombie plague was annihilated.

Kalis-nar

Date: 2007-09-19 04:33 EST
As Kalis-Nar's forces left the Embassy, The Obsidian Halls goes on limited Lockdown, all tours suspeneded, all guests and residents screened for plague through 100% effective magical and technological screening methods. This is in effect until the zombie plague is ended.

Jake Duncan

Date: 2007-09-19 06:22 EST
Meanwhile deep in the woods north of town Jake was putting on a pot of coffee over the campfire he intended to keep burning all night.

Earlier in the evening while he had been preparing a late supper for himself someone or something had spooked his herd of cattle. There had been a unusual amount of movement in the woods so he had thought to head down to the inn for some coffee, and maybe see some of his friends he had made. Before he could reach the inn there had been a run in with a few strange characters one of whom even tried to bite him before he could ride off. The strangness of that event could not come close to preparing him for the strangness he found at the inn.

When he had arrived back at his camp he had herded his cattle into the frame work that was to be his home. Now nearing morning he was sitting on a old log sipping his coffee, remington lever action 30/30 laid across his lap listening to the woods. Every rustle of leaves had him spooked, every night sound of the woods amplified. When his dog Bobbi Joe sat up from her position at his feet, and barked into the darkness Jake leveled his rifle. "You best announce you self or else I'm shooting. Nobodies hurting my animals." He tried to sound assured of himself, but if Eless was to be believed Jake had no idea how to deal with zombies.

Kacilla Lynne

Date: 2007-09-19 08:10 EST
West End, Apartment Building 19 September 6:30AM

Almost ten hours from her first sighting of the zombies, and while Kacey was no longer drunk, she was almost reeling with exhaustion. It would have been worse if terror wasn't keeping her awake. The door to her apartment building had been locked and barred from the inside when she arrived, panic-stricken residents protecting themselves as best they could. She couldn't blame them. But not one of them had opened the door to her pounding or yells, and the noise had attracted first one, then two of the undead, then more.

It was a good thing that drunk or not, she'd always been good at climbing. Her perch was precarious - she was on top of the narrow overhang that sheltered the entrance. Braced on a strip of wood something like nine inches wide. The zombies weren't coordinated enough to climb, and none of them had the reach to swipe her off. Their moans were hideous, their grasping hands moreso, and really the inhabitants of her building were in Kacey's debt. After all, if the zombies weren't so fixated on her, just out of their reach, they could almost certainly have broken through the door by now.

She wasn't in a position to appreciate that, though. Her voice was getting hoarse - she'd been shouting off and on for several hours now, trying to catch the attention of someone, anyone that could help her. The windows into the second floor were out of her reach, she didn't have purchase to climb higher or make it to the roof. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before she lost her balance, especially as her body reached the limits of wakefulness.

The sunrise was incongruously beautiful.

JewellRavenlock

Date: 2007-09-19 10:02 EST
Warehouse District September 19th 3:30am

Jewell's only sense of relief came from knowing that dawn was only a few hours away. A few hours and she could pass out! Until then, it was hack and slash. At this rate, she would be able to release all her anger and save herself from reading Marc Franco's admonition for at least another month.

She hadn't intended on being on the streets, in the thick of things. After Jewell and Eless" disastrous shift at the Dragon was over"trying to count the amount of zombies that had invaded the Inn and had been effectively (mostly) destroyed was futile"both bartenders had struggled up the stairs together, with Jewell intent on cleaning up and then sleeping off the exhaustion she knew she was feeling and assumed Eless was suffering from as well. The fae hadn't used that much mana when she was fighting but the burns scattered over her body and the prolonged exposure to fire was more than enough to have her feeling feverishly light headed, sick to her stomach, and in desperate need of soaking in a tub for hours on end to replenish her strength. It would also be nice to remove the thick zombie goo that coated her from head to toe and was starting to dry.

She last about two and a half hours in blissful unconsciousness, submerged in the tub upstairs in her room at the Inn, before she was startled awake. She could hear the cries coming from the street. They were getting louder. Her world spun as she sat up in the now cold water, unable to stand by as zombies, of all things, were overrunning her city! She needed at least a few more hours in the water to be in any sort of shape to fight. She couldn't wait that long. In a few more hours, it would be daylight but who knew how many people would be dead by then"

Jewell dressed for war. She was relieved that she kept a good amount of her weapons as well as several outfits fit for fighting in her room at the Inn; time had taught her well. She pulled on a complicated ensemble of all leather"covered in straps and buckles that held weapons of all sorts in place"over a layer of bandages and burn cream that would serve as a quick-fix for her injuries acquired earlier. Double swords on her back, daggers and blades all over her body, a lighter incase she found the time to use it, and she was ready to go.

Half an hour later found her covered in gore once more, double swords in hand as she cut her way through the streets and alleys of the warehouse district. She was certainly something to behold, bands of water constantly swirling about her body as she moved"a protection against the fires raging in the streets (people's attempts to scare away the zombies or funeral pyres for the departed) as well as any zombies that got within biting distance"and metal gleaming as she cut through every zombie she came upon. She left only decapitated bodies in her wake. She tried not to think that every zombie she cut down was once someone she had perhaps passed on the street, had drank next to in an Inn. It wouldn't due to get sentimental.

She had no real destination in mind. Her original plan to try and head towards the Pride and Fury was squashed as she had neared the docks. Chaos reigned most there and even she wasn't fool enough to face off alone against the growing horde of zombies that festered and grew in that area of the city. Plan B made much more sense: wander about without direction, kill any zombie in your path, don't get killed.

Lucius DeAuster

Date: 2007-09-19 12:09 EST
The Embassy of Gharnholme September 19 12:14am

"A member of the city guard has come by." One of the bulky Northras had entered Wilfried Jaegar's office, holding a crumpled parchment in hand. Sitting behind his desk, the erstwhile ambassador of Gharnholme to the realm of RhyDin silently bemoaned the lack of etiquette of the barbarians, even as he took the parchment and quickly read over its contents. The Verrokan's brow rose as he looked back up.

"And this is real?"

"The messenger was afraid." The barbarian shrugged, the move nearly lost under the heavy fur cloak he wore. "And, he didn't wait for a reply."

Wilfried rubbed his chin for a few seconds, considering the message and its import. "Very well then. We will treat it as true, and should it be some kind of joke, we'll let Lord DeAuster deal with the governor's office." Coming to his feet, he tossed the missive to his desk as he moved around the side. "Rouse the guard, and open the armory. I'll be sending a message to Shadow Hold and Gharnholme." A fist thumped against the rawhide jerkin as the Northras saluted Wilfried, and then fell in step behind the ambassador. For his part, Jaegar was calling for a runner to carry the alert to the manor house along with orders for the guards there to prepare.

***** The North Shore Gate 2:33am

The road that ran from RhyDin proper into the North Shore community of homes and manors passed through the North Shore Gate, and the small guard-station built there as part of the re-dressing of RhyDin City's constabulary. Manned by members of both the Guard and the Watch, the Gate was currently being fortified in the case that any of the zombie's currently running amuck made it that far.

The main concern of the North Shore Gate was the homes nearest the wall. While the various manors and the Scathachian Sanctuary were capable of defending themselves, those nearer the gate into the city did not have the luxury of private guards or high walls to defend them. Thus, the guards had dragged heavy wagons across the road to make a impromptu barricade, lighted barrels and pitch arrows being distributed among the archers, while the watch had spread out to warn people to bar themselves inside their homes.

The commander on duty, Captain Ferragus, was a veteran of the Border Wars, and was moving among his men, keeping an eye on both the road and them. A soft word was given where needed, as he knew the waiting could be worse than the fight itself. The problem with this enemy, though, was the fact that it may well hide behind the face one of his men might know.

The tramp of many feet was the first alert to the approaching host, but the sound came from behind. Ferragus had just gotten out the order for his men to turn around, along with a curse about being blindsided, when several armored men came around the corner, stepping to a cadence that couldn't belong to a pack of zombies. As the group stopped near his men Ferragus signaled for the guardsmen to stand down, and approached the new arrivals. As he stopped a few feet away one detached himself and moved to stand before Ferragus, his height forcing the guardsman to tilt his head back slightly to keep eye contact. His words were common, albeit heavily accented. "You command here?"

"Aye." Ferragus nodded in reply, ignoring the swirling patterns of tattoos on the man's cheek and neck, keeping his gaze locked on the crystal-blue eyes of the other. "And you are??" The query brought a smile, and a salute of a heavy fist thumping against a broad chest.

"I am Hreldric Bjorgenson, So-khan of the Black Tiger and sworn of House Gharnholme." The massive warrior half-turned, gesturing toward his men and Ferragus swept a quick glance over the small host. Each wore heavy leather armor and bore either two weapons or a sword and shield. Several also carried heavy planks on their shoulders. "We have been sent from the Gharnholme embassy to aid in your defense of this road."

Ferragus blinked in surprise, but quickly regained his composure and pointed toward the end of the line. "Your help is appreciated, So-khan. If you'll post your men there?" Hreldric nodded once, then turned to start barking order in the guttural language of the Northras. The newcomers quickly took position at one of the wagons, the planks being set in front of the wagon and nailed into place, reinforcing the barricade. The barbarians ignored the sidelong looks from the guards as they prepared their defense, and soon enough an expectant hush again fell over the North Shore Gate, as the combined force waited for the dawn.

***** The Embassy of Gharnholme 3:12am

?"And this incursion is stemming from the docks?" Lucius's gaze moved from Winfried to the courtyard of the embassy, where the Northras were organizing under their respective commanders. Jaegar, standing beside the Chaos Lord, nodded, and glanced back to the silent Sir Herzog, a chill as always flowing down his spine at the sight of the skeletal warrior's empty eyesockets.

"Yes, milord." Quickly bringing his attention back to Lucius, Winfried held up the missive he had received earlier. "A general alert has been handed to the city guard, with all districts being put on alert." When Lucius made no move to take the paper he dropped his arm. "I sent word to both the Onyx House and Shadow Hold, and the guards at both manors are on standing alert."

"Excellent." His helm cradled under one arm, Lucius turned slightly toward the ambassador, the edges of his baroque armor gleaming in the light of torches and glow-orbs scattered around the entrance to the embassy. The message from Jaegar had arrived just as he had returned from a tour of the warfront in Carowyn, and the nature of the missive had caught his interest, prompting his arrival via the gate at the embassy. "I am going to check on the manors. If anything happens, send word immediately."

Elessaria

Date: 2007-09-19 13:35 EST
September 19th 12:30 am The Red Dragon Inn

The moment she had heard the rumors pertaining to a possible invasion of zombies, Eless made the decision to help Jewell work the Inn that night. She was still suffering deeply from her portal spell exploding on her a few days ago; however, she knew her skills would unfortunately be needed. At the very least she could set up a triage system and offer medical care. No matter how weary she was, she had to help.

The petite elf had never met any zombies before this and the only knowledge she had of them came from books she had studied when she was a child. At the encounter with the first zombie, Eless shivers of dread slipped down her spine. Deep down she knew the city was going to have a long battle ahead of them. She, Jewell and many others united to counter attack the un-dead. How they actually survived she did not no. Once things had quieted down, the two "tenders helped one another ascend the stairs; each one suffering from the ordeal.

Elessaria could still hear the cries of the citizens through her closed windows and in spite of her exhaustion, sleep was unattainable. The empath had soaked for a long time in her tub filled with various essential oils to calm her nerves and dispel the fetid odor of death that had clung to the zombies. It was useless; her empathic shields were so thin, she could only contain her own emotions" never mind keeping any others out. Hoping a hot mug of a medicinal blend of tea would help her to relax, Eless dried off, dressed and headed downstairs. Before she even knew what was happening, Icer nudged her protectively behind her and the bar while the dragon and Darkmere were continuing the fight.

Instead of curling up on a soft cushion by the large fire to help her regain her strength, her emotions went whirling out of control once more. First, she was very much relieved to find Connar well after his odd fainting the other night. Then her emotions started to get the better of her. Once Jake arrived, her worries for her friends? safety began to recede. However all the emotions washing through the Inn, the screams from outside and her own confusion began to take a heavy toll on the diminutive elf. Eless could easily feel how disconcerted Jake was; however, knowing he camped outside (and also held his animals close to his heart) she knew she had to tell him how to defend himself against the un-dead. His steadfast disbelief in the existence of races other than human would definitely mean his death; so, she persisted and as a last resort, she revealed to him her very delicate and mildly pointed ears.

Jake's shock and fear made her momentarily regret forcing this upon him; yet, she only wanted him to stay safe and playing the role of an ostrich would not help in this situation. Adding this, her own self-loathing, her confusion at seeing Connar again caused her to collapse in tears as exhaustion won over her self-control. As she sagged, defeated, on a stool, Elessaria was very grateful for Connar's assistance in his attempts to console her and then aid her return to her chambers as she was too dizzy to climb the stairs herself. Once she was safely tucked away in the sanctuary of her suite, she fell back onto the soft bed and not able to sleep, she tried to assemble a plan.

Morning....all she had to do was make it to morning....

Elessaria

Date: 2007-09-19 14:07 EST
The Forest, Somewhere to the North of town. September 19th - Dawn

When the morning sun painted the sky in vivid strokes of crimson and orange, the old saying of "Red sky in morning, Sailors take warning." came to Eless" sleepless mind. Sadly,she noted they reflected the blood smeared victims of last night's attack. Drawing her midnight blue cloak tightly around her chilled frame, Eless headed to the woods with Nuage at her side. She knew she had to locate Jake and make certain he was safe. Her heart was heavy with guilt for frightening him so and although she tried to convince herself it had been in his best interest, she felt terrible; she felt as if she had betrayed and lied to him about her true identity.

The elf tended to take acceptance of life in Rhydin for granted and it was only that particular moment last night that she had realized Jake did not realize she was an elf. The black wolf stayed protectively at his mistress" side. He only ventured just far enough ahead to scout their path and follow the scent of Jake's dog, Bobbi Jo. After one of his forays, Nuage returned to Eless" side nudging her hand gently.

"Thou hast found them' I knew thou wouldest, Nuage," she replied as she lightly stroked his shiny black fur. Carefully she made her way through a little used path amongst the trees, her weariness caused her to crunch the fallen leaves and snap small twigs beneath her bare feet, signaling her arrival " which was probably wiser than silently and suddenly appearing at his campsite. "Mr. Jake" Jake"!?", Eless called out with concern filling her voice. "Jake, "tis Eless!"

As Eless stepped into the clearing, she saw Jake there with his 30/30 ready. Once again her eyes shimmered with unshed tears at his reaction. "Jake, please...we must needs to talk...?

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-19 15:10 EST
The Eastern Point Lighthouse September 19th 7:06AM - Dawn

The sun was due to rise not long after seven in the morning, but despite going to bed very late, Harold was up anyway sometime around six-thirty. He got up, went down and used that funny shower system Sev had set up, then climbed all the way back up top to get ready for a day on patrol with Maia.

Mercifully enough, he was able to apply his thought to action and focus on getting ready. It seemed a lot of his life was spent getting ready for something, whatever that something may be; it was easy to do so now.

He didn't think, or tried not to think, that there were people he cared about in the city. He only hoped that they would be able to defend themselves; most of them were capable of doing so. In the meantime, he and Maia could keep a look out for them and anyone she might be worried about, and if they didn't have plans of their own, they could always hole up in his lighthouse.

He kept quiet for the most part, taking everything outside into the predawn light so that he wouldn't disturb anyone sleeping inside. Though, he had a suspicion Maia was probably already getting up and ready herself — they had a few unnerving qualities in common, on top of their common language of the sea. One of those being a little too at home in battle.

Harold shook his head, clipping the holster Sev had brought with one of the Glock .40s to his belt. Not surprisingly, despite it not being his Browning HP, the gun felt familiar there in the small of his back. He put three extra clips in holders on both sides of the belt, and then put his lightsaber on it as well.

He'd gone into the Underdark with much the same setup, though he also had a heavy pack on when he went down there; the same with Avalon. But both of those, despite some of the deadliness of them, had felt quite unlike the notion of going into the city and killing the undead.

When it was all done, he actually made a pot of coffee. It had been a long time since he'd had a cup, and he made the coffee and sat with it and some bread and fruit for breakfast, and watched the sun come up. Al Na'ir was still offshore, and when the light rose enough, he could read the signal flags.

They made him smile.

'Stay safe.'

"We will," he thought, though he had no way of sending that message easily.

The sun rose beautifully over the sea. And he let his mind follow it, and the wind that came with it, centering himself for a long day. The company would be good, even if the task wasn't. They had a few tentative plans. They had at least a few people they cared about safe.

It was a small piece of comfort and hope, but Harold took it.

And he was ready.

Kalis-nar

Date: 2007-09-19 15:40 EST
Kalis-Nar and his men, now at 850, 50 were lost to the zombies, those would were killed were immediatly burned, all others were not infected. They saw the dawn come, it had been a long night, Kalis himself led a squad of troops, psions and magic-users. The numbers of Zombies found and killed, in the hundreds, prehaps, though was uncertain. Kalis directed 100 of his men to sweep towards the docks, to the place where this terrible plague began, kill any zombies, burn them and the buildings the foul things they were in, if any were found in empty buildings. The troops would screen any survivors they found, those infected were quarentined, those clear of disease, were released and evacuated.

It was a long night, and Kalis had gotten reports of others fighting the zombies. Prehaps he could speak to the Embassy of Gharnholme, he heard they had taken action as well to eliminate the zombie threat as well. Their troops had been seen, and it was reported that Athasian soldiers fought along side guards of Gharnholme. Kalis would like to open up some diplomatic relations to Gharnholme, but after this plague of Zombies was taken care of.

Spirited Corsair

Date: 2007-09-19 17:51 EST
The Eastern Point Lighthouse

19 September

07:22



The night before, it had taken a long time for the woman to fall asleep, but sleep she did. Beyond dreams, Maia slept heavily, if only for a couple of hours. The sounds of dawn approaching brought her to her senses, and she crept from her pile of blankets, cold. So many mornings for so many years, she woke in such a state. It was how she knew she was ready for what lay ahead.

As the veil of night was peeled away, she spent the pre-dawn minutes warming her body. She pulled her sinewy limbs in long lines, and with slow breaths, she felt as her blood pulsed through her, warming her from her fingers to her toes. Maia's pulse was slow, and her thoughts were calm and centered.

When she went looking for her own blood-splattered clothes (she needed something that would fit her properly) she found instead the smaller threads that Sev had brought from the beach house. Thoughtful. She left the over-sized sweats folded neatly, and made a mental note to send Sev a bottle of whatever she liked to drink, assuming that they both lived through the infection.

The clothes certainly fit better, but there was something about being dressed in something that belonged to another person that was a little unsettling. More often than not, it could make you feel like a stranger in your own skin. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful, mused Maia, to be someone else today.

Just after sunrise, she found Harry at the tail end of his breakfast. Bertie Hausenfelter would no doubt be dismayed that she did not get to feed them before they left, but no doubt the woman had seen greater disappointment in her life. Maia had arrayed herself with everything that she wanted with her: crossbow and plenty of bolts, a variety of daggers, her cutlass, her axe. Well equipped, inside and out, she stood beside the Welshman without a word. There was no rush, and there was no need to delay. It was not long before they set off for the city.

Lydia Loran

Date: 2007-09-20 00:54 EST
WestEnd, Streets September 20th 2:38 AM

Lydia was ready to call it a night.

It was late, she was overworked and underslept, and dealing with zombies. Well, it wasn't pleasant. She had run into some who encouraged her to work more actively against them, seeing as how she had magic that made such a thing easy. But killing anyone, anything, has never been an easy task for the green haired elf. The very first life she ever too, so many years ago, wasn't even an entirely purposeful act. And when she looked at the zombies, she didn't see zombies. She saw people they used to be. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and even children. Children. There weren't many, but the few there were" It was hard to see. Sure, the zombies were only a shell of who they used to be, but it just wasn't something she could move beyond easily.

Luckily, the numbers *were* thinning, and encounters were becoming less and less frequent. And she was only a couple blocks away from Grem's apartment. So it'd not be long before she could collapse into a warm bed, pass out, and try to forget the nightmares of reality. Hopefully sleep would be forgiving, and she'd not succumb to the nightmares there as well. They had been a bit infrequent as of late anyways.

Just one more block.

With the apartment so close, Lydia felt a sense of relief wash over her. And with it so close, that's when she let her guard down. And for that' She was taken by surprise when a man in the guard's uniform staggered out of an alley she was just about to pass, his features twisted and terrified.

Her breath drew in sharply in surprise, her steps ceasing almost immediately. He was so close, couldn't have been more than five feet away. Brows furrowed, concern rather than common sense took over, and she moved a touch closer, making five feet into four. "Are you al- Oh. Gods..."

Lydia's words were just barely more than a breath when she spoke them, her pale blues wide as they fell upon the bloody bite mark on the man's forearm. There were no other words to be spoken to that. Gaze lifted tentatively from the fresh wound to the man's face. He was terrified. Still there. Just barely though. Snarling, his features twisted into something more horrific and inhuman as he gurgled. An attempt to speak, but nothing was quite coming out.

She took a step backwards, but he was faster, as the instinct of the zombie kicked in but the effects of rigor mortis hadn't set in just yet. His palm slapped against her wrist as he gripped her in an almost vice-like grip, stepping forward to close the distance even further. Without a bit of hesitation Lydia shrieked, pale blues suddenly flaring a bright white. Her flesh grew hot to touch, much like a stove, as she jerked her hand back.

The man cried out in agony, a very human sound, as his flesh burned, forcing him to relinquish his hold on the elf. Though with such a sharp movement, Lydia lost her balance and fell backwards onto the ground, the skin of her elbow splitting open as it slammed into the pavement. Teeth grit together at the pain shooting up and down her arm as she scrambled to pull herself up and away from the man teetering towards zombie. But again, he was quick.

Seemingly driven by a more primal force, the pain in his hand was forgotten, and the pain he was about to experience not considered. He dropped down, grasping her by the ankle, his other hand on her knee. Bigger and stronger than her, he wasn't about to let go, even as he burned. And with one leg immobilized, and him not acknowledging that pain" Well, she just wasn't going anywhere. Of course this was a problem as he suddenly lurched forward, mouth open, aimed for the exposed flesh of her immobilized leg.

She could feel the hotness of his breath on her skin, the moisture of it, even lips just starting to touch skin...

Crunch!

It was a sickening sound, as the bottom heel of her free leg shot out to smash into his face. He reeled backward, giving her enough time to scamper away. Just as she started to stand up...

A gunshot, loud and clear, followed by a light thump, and an ominous quiet. The sudden gunshot caused her to wince and cease her movements, save for a bit of shivering. She couldn't help that. Lydia didn't turn around though. There was no need to see...that. She did turn her head however, rather slowly, to the side to see the one responsible for the gunshot. Another member of the guard, though this one was entirely human. Gun was still drawn, ready to be used. After all, he couldn't be entirely sure she wasn't bitten just then. Even Lydia had a faint pang of panic and doubt deep down inside. Hesitantly, she looked to her leg...

..clean. No mark. No wound. She could breathe again.

"I...remember you." The guard spoke finally, lowering his gun. Wouldn't give up his hold on it though. "You're the one who..." Trailing off, he made a vague gesture pointing over his shoulder with a thumb, a faint look of appreciation shining in his eyes. He was easily distracted as he looked over the fallen guard though. It wasn't an easy job, putting down people who had been turned. And even if he had been doing it a while now" It didn't make it any easier.

"Y...yeah. I am.." Lydia's voice wasn't terribly reliable then, shaky and soft. She shuddered a little before finally rising to her feet, but made no effort to move just yet. She didn't trust her legs just yet either. Taking note of the guard looking her over, she shook her head. "He didn't get me..." More of a self-reassurance, rather than an assurance to the guard.

He gave a solemn nod, slipping gun into it's appropriate holster finally when he was convinced the green haired elf was no threat. "That's good." He frowned a bit, looking briefly to the fallen guard with a bullet wound to the head, then the elf once more. "I have a good idea of what happened here, so I don't need a statement, but I think you should let me accompany you home, or find another guard to do so. You may also want to let me patch that up for you..." Gesturing to her elbow at that.

Lydia hadn't even taken notice of the blood that ran from her elbow, down her arm, and even to her wrist that was already bruising into light blues that would take on a violet hue within hours. She regarded her arm briefly before shaking her head in a dismissive manner. "No. I can tend to it. I don't want to be any sort of trouble. I'm only a block away from here, and you should...you should tend to him." She gestured to the zombie, the once-man on the ground, but she did not look. "I'm sorry." Barely a whisper, that.

The guard followed her gesture, swallowing hard, then shook his head at her apology. "It's not your fault, and you've already..." His turn to trail off once more, gaze dipping low to the ground before rising. "Are you sure" It wouldn't be trouble at all. And I'd like to return the favor of you helping me."

"I'd say you already did....I promise you I'll be fine. I just...I just want to go home. Please?"

It was an argument he wouldn't win unless a considerable amount of time was put into it, but he didn't have that time. Not now. "Alright. Just be careful, okay?"

All Lydia offered to that was a faint nod before turning to start a brisk walk. Away from him. Away from the corpse. Away from that alley. Off that street. She wasn't about to look back either.

Just one more block...

Spirited Corsair

Date: 2007-09-20 05:23 EST
In the Dark

20 September

04:30

There had to be dozens of them, moving in one large pack. They had been soldiers, and mothers, and even a handful of children. How so many had been infected was a question that she had not yet considered. She was more concerned with the unusual way in which they were grouped. Maia had seen packs of two and three and six....but so many' Something was rotten in the state of RhyDin, and it was not just the once-human flesh of the approaching masses.

Fffwwwwwttt.

It was the only sound she heard as she let her very last bolt fly. It landed in the skull of one of the zombies with that terrible and wonderful sound, a sound that heralded peace for one who had been denied it in death, and did so at the cost of another ounce of Maia's precious humanity. The crossbow was useless to her, and she discarded it, standing with her sword in one hand and her axe in the other. Her back was to the wall, so at least she would see it coming.

The turn of the world slowed as she waited for them to come. A miracle was never impossible, but it seemed that at long last, her preternatural luck had indeed run out. She never expected it to end in this city. And she certainly never expected to fall to zombies, of all things. Stupid, stinking, staggering, slobbering zombies. It was almost embarassing.

Into the fray she spun, leading with her blades, always leading with her blades. The gore flew everywhere as she plunged her sword into the skull of one, swung her axe through the neck of another, and another, and another. The unholy sound was terrifying, and it chilled her to her core. Maia grew so cold so quickly, in fact, that she started to literally freeze up. Her limbs, so strong and graceful from years of training, betrayed her. Her arms did not fly with the speed that she knew. Her legs became too difficult to lift.

The teeming mass of death surrounded her, and they seemed to move as one, pulsing in towards her. First she felt strong fingers wrap around her arms, and her legs, pulling her wide open, threatening to snap her in two like a wishbone. Maia did not hear the axe fall away. She did not hear the sword clatter on cobblestone. She did not even hear her own screams. All that she heard was the coming silence. Gaping maws reached towards her, sinking death into her scarred flesh even as she fell to the ground.

It was so cold.

Gasp.

Shudder.

She clutched the sheets of the nest as she sat straight up. For the first time in two days, her pulse pounded so hard and so fast that Maia could hear it in her ears, and she found it hard to breathe. Moonlight poured in through the window, and Maia came to her senses. Lighthouse. To the left, the bakers slept. To her right, Harry. Everyone was quiet and still, and she shivered. It was not too cold outside that night, but Maia was chilled to the bone.

Silently, she rose, pulling a blanket tightly around her and moving away from where the others slept. If she had any hope of drifting off again, she would have to shake the feeling that she had not done enough, and that the darkness would reach up and swallow her again. She stood near the window, pale blues luminous as they sought the running lights of the ship that waited for her at sea. It might have warmed her, if only she was not already so cold...

For some, the zombies were not the worst of the demons to be faced.

Kacilla Lynne

Date: 2007-09-20 07:47 EST
West End, Streets 20 September 6:30AM

Twenty-four hours. One more sunrise, crimson light touching the gore-splattered streets and turning every uncovered inch of ground to blood in a match to that which pooled in the gutters. One of the roving bands of zombie hunters had finally arrived, sometime in the night, and killed the swarm that had surrounded Kacey's precarious perch.

Her apartment building was sealed, she had no entrance, and she had nowhere else to retreat to - the Inn was the only other place she could think of as sanctuary, and that was across the bridge and effectively unreachable. She'd joined the band, taken one of the swords thrust into her hands - the weapon of one of the hunters who had fallen victim to the undead.

The hilt had nestled into her hands smoothly, callouses that were wrong for the carpentry work she had been doing now a perfect match for her grip. The blade was long, slightly swept, edged on one side and half-way along the other. It was balanced for one or two hands. It was beautiful. She was terrified. The undead didn't care.

The zombies came, and were put to rest. The band moved through the streets in a methodical fashion, up one and down the other. Kacey moved through the walking corpses like a dance, leaving fallen bodies behind that would never rise again. Her mind was elsewhere. Only her body acted, reacted, and really the only challenges of fighting the zombies were their numbers and their brainless persistence.

The sun was rising, and the band of zombie hunters she had joined was back where Kacey had begun. Their numbers were somewhat depleted, but the undead were thinned to the point that the last sweep through their five-block search had drawn no more from the shadows. Blood, gore, and worse vile liquids coated them all, dripped unheeded from their weapons and clothes.

She wanted to let the sword fall. She wanted to leave it behind her, on the streets, before it sliced into her awareness and brought her mind screaming back from where it had hidden during these endless hours. As she finally entered the building, one brave soul unbarring the door long enough to admit her, the hilt was still firmly in her grasp.

JewellRavenlock

Date: 2007-09-20 10:08 EST
Ravenlock-Kidd Household, North Shore Community September 20th 7:15 am

She should have been sleeping or at least soaking in a tub. Instead, she was out on the balcony of her bedroom, listening to the shouts and cries that echoed distantly from the dock area. She could smell the smoke, too. The city was still burning. She'd have to get dressed and go down there soon, use what skills she had to help put out the fires.

She glanced down to her still bandaged hands; like she had any energy to go help put out fires! There was a noticeable tremble to her hand when she relaxed it from the fist it had unknowingly curled into as she had stood out on the balcony. She had overdone it the first night, using more magic and energy than she had in a while within a short span of time. Last night hadn't helped any either: the jail break, fending off zombies (at least Stephen had taken care of most of that), having to fight their way back home in the early morning hours after making sure Renne and Nathan were both safe, and all of this after she hadn't sufficiently recuperated from fighting zombies until dawn the night before. Once they had gotten near home, they had to negotiate and cajole their way through the North Shore Gate, too. All she had wanted to do was rest; instead, she had spent over twenty minutes arguing with a member of the Watch, convincing him that neither she nor her husband were zombies. As least she had the satisfaction of knowing that the Gate was well guarded with the help of soldiers from Gharnholme; she had been able to sleep, safe and securely, for the few precious hours she had laid her head down.

She tightened her hand into a fist again, hiding the weakness that the tremble revealed. It was time to go. She turned about to move back into the house, thoughts of what to wear to protect her fire-sensitive self against the flames raging throughout the city. She'd have to ask Stephen to go with her today, because at the rate she was going putting out fires all day would have her magic senses burned to a crisp. She'd be surprised if she could even walk home later.

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-20 12:13 EST
The Eastern Point Lighthouse September 20th 7:18AM

He woke up with his eyes practically glued closed and a bit of a fatigue related headache in his skull, but it was not the worst feeling he'd had of late. The low orange sun, just recently crested over the edge of the horizon, flooded the Lighthouse with natural light. Despite the slight chill left in the air, Harold liked the color; he had an eye for color, and always had, and thought of past lovers and how they looked in that light.

He did a quick check. The radio was quiet, and the bakers were asleep, and Maia was...

...not asleep.

Frowning a bit, Harold sat up in his little nest of blankets, finally locating the woman out sitting on the deck.

Long accustomed to nightmares, his own and those of others, he just looked at her for a moment. There was something of a mirror there. God knows how many times he had sat just there like that, looking out to sea, holding still in the hopes that the light and salt and wind would be enough to dissipate the troubles.

He didn't know how long she had been out there like that, but he didn't ask. He got up, whisper quietly, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes; went and made a couple mugs of jasmine tea. She probably heard him come out; the window door wasn't perfectly quiet.

He didn't ask, nor say anything. Just sat down next to her, once he set the tea down on the opposite side, close enough that his heavy wool sea blanket could rest easily across both their shoulders in the new light.

No words. He was just there; if she wanted to talk, he would listen. If she wanted him gone, he would likely go.

If she wanted two living arms to hold her and remind her she was alive, he would give them.

And the sun still rose.

Spirited Corsair

Date: 2007-09-20 12:59 EST
The Eastern Point Lighthouse

20 September

07:25

It was not until after he had set the cup down and settled in that Maia acknowledged he had joined her on the deck. With one word, she engaged in that long practiced tradition of stating the obvious.

"Morning."

It was a statement with but a hint of greeting dashed in- the 'good' had not been left out for brevity's sake, but rather because that bit remained to be seen. Eyes were still focused on the endless roll of the sea, and her prevailing thought as the sun rose was the way that a sailor could hear the ocean whisper their name and call them home. It made things a little better, and as a result, she certainly had the look of a person that had been sitting up thinking but she did not look haunted, not the way she had when she had been jarred from sleep about three hours earlier.

The shared blanket and shared space was accepted, much like the way an uppity housecat may deign to sit right beside a person when the weather turns cold. With both hands curled around the mug, she held it against her sternum, letting it warm her from the outside for a bit. Steam curled in elegant wisps towards her face, leaving the notes of the tea on the air to mingle with the smell of the sea. She loved the smell of jasmine. It did not stir anything within her memory, and that was a priceless comfort.

Maia did not tell Harry that she did not wish to talk about her night. She knew that she did not need to. Eyes stayed front for a long while as the sailor sipped at the mug of tea, and finally felt the warmth coming back into her limbs. Though it brought with it a bit of a numb, sleepy feeling, she knew it would pass once she ate a proper meal.

When at last she turned to Harry, the stillness brought on by the cold was gone from her. Maia leaned in and pecked him on the cheek: a non-verbal thank you. Emptied cup in hand, she stood up, letting his heavy blanket fall back towards him.

"I have an idea."

Promise of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and some degree of mischief was evident in that direct gaze she cast towards Harry. Ideas gave way to plans, and plans gave way to progress. It was well beyond time for some bloody progress.

Icer1978

Date: 2007-09-20 13:08 EST
West End September 20 1PM.

The dragoness had made sure here hatchlings were fed before meeting Tempren at the Inn, she waited patiently as her friend mounted then the pair took wing, gliding toward the West End.

Fires seemed to be popping up everywhere, along with a few more Zombies, and she concentrated her icefire toward one of the burning buildings, intent on extinguishing the flames, and possibly a few zombies nearby.

Making sure the druid was still comfortably on her back, she kept wing, hovering in place as the flames slowly started sizzling as they started to die down, only one of many.

Tempren

Date: 2007-09-20 13:20 EST
West End September 20 1:05 PM

The druid looked over the surroundings, gripping Icer tightly. "This is madness."

Once he felt comfortable enough to keep a hand extended as they moved between the fires, he began to call water from any source he could find. Wells, puddles, you name it. He used it to extinguish any flame he could. The larger fires he couldn't do much about without a large supply of water handy.

This kind of magic was far less draining than trying to fight the zombies. He had far too many brushes with death in this city and he'd only arrived a few days prior. In fact, he had been saved by two people he didn't know at all in the Marketplace the prior evening. He continues to reuse the water by freezing the steam. The ice was then melted over the next blaze that needed his attention. A stray lance of ice *might* have pierced a zombie's head once in a while, but who was really counting..

Carley

Date: 2007-09-20 14:20 EST
Rhydin Jail September 20th 8:08 AM

Carley pulled the wool covers draped over body even closer, snuggling into them. Sure, they were itchy and just a little bit smelly, but they were warm. And for just a few moments she was able to forget her predicament. She was warm and safe, snuggled up to her blanket, and the sunlight shining in through the barred windows felt good on her face. Though it did strike closed eyes a bit too much, so crinkling her nose, she'd just roll on over..

..and right out of that too tiny cot, even for her.

"Guh!"

Carley whined a bit, tangled in her blanket on the floor. With a bit of effort she scrambled out of it, and tossed it back on the tiny cot before rising to her feet, stomach immediately growling afterwards. The guards hadn't been feeding her, and any time she brought up the fact she was starving they told her she wasn't getting any brains, tossing more accusations her way of being a 'super intelligent zombie queen'.

"I am not a zombie!" She muttered a bit under her breath before shuffling over towards the bars that kept her prisoner in that dank little cell. "Heeeey!" She shook at the bars, little good that would do. They weren't giving. So she'd give them a good kick to make a big noise. "Can I at least get some water in here?"

No response. Yet again.

Head hung in defeat, Carley sighed heavily and drug herself back to that little cot. She crawled back in it and under those covers, thinking that just maybe, if she went back to sleep, the next time she woke up she'd wake up in her own bed. In her own apartment, surrounded by her beloved posters. Not mossy, fur-like walls. Blegh!

She'd wake up, and it'd all be over.

Lucius DeAuster

Date: 2007-09-20 14:28 EST
The North Shore Gate September 20 8:32 am

Three times they had come. And three times they had been repulsed. And three times good men died.

The third had been the worst, a large group of the undead following a blue-haired woman and her husband up the road from the city and breaking against the barricade in a frenzy of teeth, claws and inarticulate screams. The combined group of RhyDin Watch and Northras had managed to beat off the third push, though it had grown rather chaotic for the last few moments, as four of the zombies swarmed over the wagons and into the soldiers beyond. Three watchmen had been killed during the fight, one pulled over the barricade and ripped apart, and the other two in the break-through. One of the barbarians also lay dead, having been surprised by the sudden reappearance of the first watchman to be killed, the newly-risen zombie having ripped out the warrior's throat before any could react.

The worst part came afterward, in the beheading and burning of the bodies. Several of the RhyDinian's knew someone in that pile, and Captain Ferragus moved among his men, giving a comforting word where he could. A jabbering of guttural words drew his attention as he passed close to the barbarians, clustered around one of their own.

"Damned thing bit me good." The Northras, Ulthir by naming, cradled his right arm close to his chest, the leather sleeve ripped and bloodstained. Others around muttered darkly, while Hreldric stood impassively before him. They all knew the ramifications of that injury, having seen the resurrection of the watchman earlier. "So-khan, I will not die like sheep." Ulthir injected a tone of steel into his words, hissed as they were between clenched teeth.

"No, you will not." Hreldric answered as he drew a dagger from the wide belt. Sunlight gleamed from the blade as he brought it to his left forearm, and the craggy features showed no emotion as he drew the tip down his own flesh, bringing forth a weal of red blood. Silently he held his arm up, and one by one each of the Northras daubed a fingertip into the blood, using it to paint a sworling pattern on Ulthir's cheeks and neck. Hreldric himself drew the last design, a circle with eight small offshoots, on the warrior's forehead.

Gripping Ulthir's shoulders, he met the other's eyes steady for a half-moment, before slowly nodding. "You will be remembered at The Bone Altar." Soft words of approval met that statement, while Ulthir just matched the nod with one of his own. Stepping aside, Hreldric opened a path toward the barricade. "Go, and take the blessings of Father Nurgle to the spawn." Without looking back Ulthir clambered over the wagons and leapt lightly to the ground on the other side. He paused just long enough to draw a one-handed axe from his belt, before taking off down the road into town.

Just as he turned the corner of the road and disappeared from view Hreldric tilted his head back and cut loose with a howling bellow toward the cloudy sky. The other Northras joined him in the cry, and the guardsmen who had been watching Ulthir leave with a sense of puzzlement drew back in alarm. The combined scream echoed off the walls long after Ulthir was lost from sight.

"What by the light was that about?" One of the Watch, a young man no more than 17 winters, looked to Ferragus, who shrugged in reply. The captain had his suspicions, however, and they were confirmed when Hreldric spoke, having heard the young man's question.

"He was bitten, and goes to seek a warrior's death." The So-khan said simply, and Ferragus looked back down the road toward the town proper, and the plumes of smoke hanging over the rooftops . Is that, then, how it will end?

Spirited Corsair

Date: 2007-09-20 17:51 EST
Dockside 20 September 15:22

Maia had told Harry the idea, and in short order, the idea had blossomed into a plan. It was simple, in its essence: take back the docks, take back the city. If ships could get in, so could the badly needed support that came in the shape of food, medical supplies, ammunition and appropriately educated ground support.

They had suited up, in case of an encounter, and headed for the city to rally together any support that they could for the effort. By Maia's estimation, there would be more than a little of that.

"I am betting that some of those dock hands are going to be holed up in the sturdier warehouses. If we can get to them, we can up the numbers exponentially. Everyone has a friend of a friend, aye?"

"I would hope so," Harold replied. His time amongst the dockworkers had proven that word spread fast amongst them on all occasions. Plus, he wanted to get down there and check on the 'fleet' he had left in drydock; it hadn't occured to him sooner, due to circumstances, but when the Balclutha, the barque and the brig he'd left in the Salvage Yard crossed his mind, he realized with a sinking feeling that there had been a lot of smoke Dockside. And he was worried. "The sooner we get the docks cleaned up, the sooner we can start the rebuilding."

And wasn't that a word that didn't concern those who just dropped in for the fight' The smoke had worried Maia too, though it was secondary to the task at hand. Fires, looting, and chaos had made the usually bustling district quiet. It caused a paranoia in her to see the place so still. She expected to see the teeming herds around every bend, or, perhaps worse, a legion of troops she didn't know walking through territory over which she felt great ownership. It was hopeful, though, that notices were being posted, and some had survived the melee. Closer and closer the the yard they moved. The thickness of the smoke made the woman very grim indeed. She reached for her partner's arm.

"Harry..."

"I see it."

His tone was flat; a sort of cold, passive note that told those who knew him that there was something boiling black and hot under the surface, waiting to find a properly responsible target. He gave her a brief look, softening for only a moment, then walked to the fence. There were no troops, but the brig that had been in drydock was obscured by the rolling black smoke. The only thing visible were the tips of her masts, already crashed down, smoldering where they lay. And the body of a zombie, smoking nearby. It was not hard to guess what had happened here.

Eyes traced from the devastation to its source. The warehouses surrounding the area were arrayed like a checkerboard....black and white. Some charred, some burning, some standing still. As she broke from Harry to survey the damage, she noted that someone had at least attempted to help. Signs of ice, from above. Maybe a mage. Maybe something else. Not everything could be saved, though, and the damage here, where the infestation allegedly made landfall, was evidence of that.

When Maia stepped away, Harold took a moment to further assess the situation in the Yard. The brig was a lost cause; there wouldn't be anything left of her but her copper sheathing that was once on her hull to protect her from marine life. But at least Balclutha's masts still stood tall, and looked unscathed from his vantage, and the barque, far deeper into the Yard, likewise looked all right. He looked back for another moment at the brig — she had not been quite so charming as Al Na'ir. But she had been her own entity, and now she was becoming blackened boards and ash.

Once he had all he could take of that, he followed after Maia. He still looked calm, though there was a certain black cast in his eyes that suggested otherwise. "Ready to start recruiting?"

"Aye. We can start with that warehouse- I'd bet my life there is a group hunkered down in there, waiting for a good enough reason to go." She pointed, and it was a sturdier structure than man of the others, and the few windows were heavily boarded up...the scorch marks she noted even spoke of some rudimentary fire-fighting. "Then, we can head into town." Day three, and things were beyond out-of-hand.

All right." He didn't wait for her to take the lead; a certain stalking stride in his footfalls, he headed for the warehouse. On closer inspection, there were a good many zombie bodies around it, some of them charred black. As he drew nearer, a voice shouted: "Stop there or we shoot!"

"We're not zombies!" Harold called back, using his sea-won voice to ring the call up to that upper window.

"They ain't the only problem!" The man who was peeking from behind one of the removable boards seemed to ease up his guard, though. "You're not one of them troops, right?"

"Not troops, but we're looking for soldiers. Open the damned door." Maia sent that authoritative glare up to the man, chin high, years of command in her stance (short though it was).

"You better gimme a better reason than that, lady!" the man called back. Needless to say, it had been a long few days for the men who had managed to survive both the outbreak and the fires.

"That's captain to you, sir. Dockside doesn't belong to the zombies, and it sure as hell doesn't belong to those half-wit landlubbers making walking torches out of the poor infected bastards. It belongs to us, and I'm of a mind to take it back." She glanced to Harry, just for a moment, then back up to the window. "Or, you can hide in there until this place burns, too." Maia waited, jaw clenched, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

"You're not *my* captain!" the man shot back. But he wasn't unreasonable, just wanted to make things clear that he was not going to be ordered around by someone he didn't know. "Come around to that side door, there. The one with the most zombies piled near it."

She smiled a little to Harry then, heading for the door. "Like him already." They had done well keeping themselves safe, keeping the plague away. It said something for their mettle, and she needed men of mettle to make this crazy plan work.

Harold didn't wait for any more to be thrown back and forth. He just picked his way across the mess. It wasn't hard to tell that the men in there had put up a fight — there were headshots on some of the charred zombie remains. They'd tried hard to keep those undead torches from getting close to the warehouse.

"...what a f—-ing mess," was all he said, a low tone.

Maia just hoped to god that there were more than three men in there.

There were, in fact, six men in there, and two women. One of the women was Alice Hayes, who had been heading back towards the Al Na'ir when she ended up in the fight of her life. She had studied Maia, but then in true sailor fashion, had fallen into the line of shipboard obedience.

The others were all unknown to them, though some of them knew others, who knew others, and eventually it proved that they were all connected in the web that wove through the docks and ports. The web that had just had a giant rock thrown through it by zombies, and was set afire by troops not of Rhy'Din.

The threads of it banded together.

((This post was collaboratively authored by the players of Harold Lowe and Maia d'Thalia.))

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-20 18:29 EST
Dockside September 20th 5:45PM

With about twenty-five men and women gathered so far, Maia and Harold started taking back the docks. Moreso, though, they started to piece together what had happened to the many burnt out buildings, and many more burnt zombies.

There weren't many troops lingering in the area, but the pieces of the story that came together pointed to them. Some said a hundred, some said ten thousand, but the same name kept coming up: Obsidian.

The Obsidian Halls.

Harold had heard something or another about it, something about an embassy, or whatnot. He hadn't paid it much mind at the time, just noted it into the back of his mind and then went on with his life. It didn't seem important to him.

Until now, when troops that had come from there had set fire to his dockside, in his home realm.

Harold burned. On the outside, he was icy calm — duty, ever duty, came first. They didn't find many zombies left, but those they did find were killed quickly, efficiently, and not using fire. Some buildings still burned, and they started trying to put out the fires, handing buckets from the seaside, across the road, a string of men and women and a few people standing guard.

On the inside, he burned.

Even as his docks burned, he burned.

How many flaming zombies had wandered away, still walking, to catch homes on fire" How many had taken out businesses, warehouses, stables" How many fires set by these troops had spread to the close-knit buildings that lined some of the cross-streets off of Eastern Drive?

He didn't take it out on the troops. They were only soldiers; it wasn't their fault that whoever had given them orders lacked any semblance of common sense. The imported army would have been a wonderful windfall to the besieged city....if only it had been handled sensibly.

He got hold of one of the people near the group of those troops; he didn't know, nor care, if the young man was one of the soldiers or just an admirer of the marauding army.

"Send a message to whoever commands these people," Harold said, evenly, though there was a razor-sharp edge on his voice that made the young man in front of him look a little nervous.

"This is not your home. It was not your right to burn our warehouses, homes and businesses. It was a massively stupid move to set zombies on fire; you are an asshole, whoever you are, in thinking that they'll just die while in flames. You have to destroy their brains. You don't need fire to do that.

"This is not your home. You have cost me a brig that I had plans for restoring; consider yourself lucky that you did not cost me the ship I already finished restoring. You have cost some of these people everything they own, with your moronic slash-and-burn plan.

"No matter how well-intentioned you were, you have acted in a way that shows a decisive lack of common sense.

"The next time that you send men or come onto my dockside, our dockside, you had damn well better use your brain. Or you will be met with force, and it will turn ugly for all involved.

"Take heed."

And without another word, Harold turned around and went back to trying to save what he could of the Dockside, with those left who still belonged there.

Kalis-nar

Date: 2007-09-20 19:03 EST
"To Mr. Lowe, this is from Kalis-Nar, Lord of the Obsidian Halls, firstly i am sorry for any damage my troops had caused you and to those you live in your docks, which i was not aware belonged to you. There was and still is a plague of Zombies in this city. Now is not the time for insults, but for rationale and cooler heads. I was not aware nor were my man aware that fire would not be all that affective at first. Once it was learned that destruction of the brain was all that was needed, my men did only dispatch them by taking of the heads of these zombies or massive damage to the creatures brains.

And you should be even a little grateful that i even sent my forces out at all to help this city. I could have just as easily locked down my gates and not care. But i do care about this city, so i did what i thought was nessesary. The Military is a sword, not a scapal, but my men did make sure no one, living was harmed, all those not turned into zombies were evacuated. But as i said this is not the time for arguments, there are still zombies in this city, and there must be a reason for it, zombies just don't appear out of nowhere. And that reason has to be discovered.

As to the damage i am sending you a donation of 10 million silver crowns in gold trade bars to a place to be designated by you, to help rebuild any lost property. If you need more, do not hesitate to ask me, and i will send more to you, as you need it. I hope you will forgive my reaction to this plague, and i sincerly appologize to all those that lost their homes and businesses, i was only trying to help in some way. It was never my intention to cause such destruction, only to stop the Zombie Plague from spreading, that was all i had in mind."

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-20 20:49 EST
Dockside September 20th 8:30PM

Harold was not expecting word back. The first thing that had crossed his mind when he received it, however, was to wonder how this Kalis-nar fellow had gotten his name. Though, it wasn't too hard to guess who he was — Harold's name had become rather too public for his tastes what with the trial, then his head-long involvement in this mess alongside Maia.

He read the letter, using the light of some lanterns set up to work. They had seen no zombies Dockside since hours earlier. Maia had taken Hayes out to patrol the perimeter of their little corner of Rhy'Din, while he directed the relief efforts, and had set some more fighting-types to sweep as well. A good number of the fires had been put out; some buildings beyond repair, some levelled, a few salvageable.

He raised his eyebrow at points, but he didn't let his anger well up again. There was some decency in the letter, at least, though he wasn't so sure that they had needed an army. Fifty men who were prepared would have done more good than hundreds in this case.

Still, he replied for himself and not his troop of workers. Let them speak for themselves sometime.

Kalis-nar:

Send me nothing; I do not want money. I will rebuild what I can for this area and myself, as I have done so in the past and will continue to do so in the future. If you wish to help those here who you have wronged, even unintentionally, then you may report yourself for duty in rebuilding. Not your men. Just you; you can give back by giving us your sweat and back for work.

As to monetary repayment, you would be better directed if you come to help with the manual labor of cleaning and rebuilding the area, to speak to the people themselves. Large sums of money do not heal wounds, and your willingness to come and work alongside them regardless of your ruling status will go farther. You can ask them what a fair and honest price would be to rebuild what they lost — I have worked alongside some of them in the past, and having worked alongside them today, find them to be honest people who will not ask for more than is right.

No army is a good idea if it's uninformed. If you care about this city, then think before you act in the future — fifty men who were armed and trained for this would have made a bigger difference with less damage. And you would have gotten most, if not all of them, back at the end of the campaign.

I will expect your word as to your willingness to report for duty tomorrow. The dockside, as of this almost nine o'clock hour, is now clean of zombies. We have a patrol lead by an extraordinary woman who is making certain it stays as such.

If you want to help, help where it counts.

-Harold Lowe

He sent the letter with the runner, then went back to work.

Kalis-nar

Date: 2007-09-20 21:36 EST
Kalis received the letter from Mr. Lowe, read it and responded in kind

"Dear Mr. Lowe, i will retain the money i was to send you and send it to the orphanage & Widow fund, as i am sure there are now more widows and orphans from this terrible tragedy. And as to your advice, i shall take it and report myself in the morning to help you and your neighbors, though i am a monarch, i have no problem with getting into doing manual labor. So i shall come and help you and the others in rebuilding the docks. Please don't hold it against my men, they only follow the orders of their King, and i do care for this city. If i may say so, Mr. Lowe you are quite the advisor and diplomat. Prehaps if you are so inclined we can speak further, and maybe if you are interested i would like to have a spokesman for The Halls to the city, i have heard of your admirable reputation and popularity. But we can save that for another time, first to help you and the others rebuild and to clear this city of zombies.

Of course there is another matter, which i do not know if you have pondered but i have, where did these things come from, what caused the infection and plague to start. Where or what is the source? I realize that you are quite busy and most concerned with the reconstruction efforts and helping those who have lost their loved ones and homes. But it is something to consider, because if there is a cause, a source it must be found, so there is not another outbreak. But in anycase once again i am sorry and i will be there in the morning. To help and not hinder. And have no worries i am quite familiar with buliding and construction, i promise i will not botch that, at least.

Oh and if something like this plague happens again, i will send out a much smaller force. My troops are well trained, i just went for the overkill. Next time i will use a scapal, instead of a sword. Thankyou." with that Kalis-Nar sent his courier straight away to Mr. HG Lowe

Reprisal

Date: 2007-09-20 21:58 EST
Dockside September 20th 8:29 PM

From fighting zombies to fighting fires; the days had begun to meld together into one extensive nightmare. Out of mercy, he had dispatched too many familiar faces that had succumbed to the infection. The problem was, he remembered every face. He knew it was for the best; to allow these people peace instead of the inevitable nightmare of undead purgatory. But the faces haunted him. If a cure was available that he had not yet heard of, the grief he would feel, the guilt of taking lives when they could have been saved would be unimaginable. He had killed out of mercy before; hopefully, this would be the same. The axe handle, his weapon of choice, felt heavy in his hands, but the responsibility was heavier on his soul.

Firefighting had become the work of the day. He had spent most of his time dockside among the citizens, blending in with them; bringing order to chaos one building at a time. However, there were times when day would seem as night. One could look up into the sky only to see the sun blotted out by the thick rolling blackness. Everywhere you looked in the city, a layer of dark soot had settled. He could not shake the feeling that this had all been done intentionally. As if someone believed the answer to purging the city of zombies was to bathe the city in flame. No matter. The damage was done. Whether it was intentional or a poorly thought out plan was irrelevant. Regardless, it was evident that the zombie infestation had begun to plateau.

His face was dark and smeared with dirt. His body ached. Rest, however, at this time, was unacceptable. The docks had been won back from the chaos. The work was hard, but the rewards were great. The docks, it seemed, where the disorder had reportedly begun, was now the first place to be granted order. How proper; how utterly proper.

Kalis-nar

Date: 2007-09-21 01:39 EST
Dawn of the 21st of September:

As he promised Kalis-Nar kept his word and showed up at the destroyed dockside at dawn, he had with him a bag full of various tools, a sledgehammer, a shovel, bags of nails, a hammer and a pick axe. He looked for the nearest patrol guard and said that he was here at Mr. Lowe's request to help with the rebuild effords, as the fires of the Dockside, though not intended, were his doing, Kalis had ordered his men to burn any zombies as well as decapitate, when all that was needed to be done was to destroy the zombies' brains and nothing more. And for the damage he caused in those orders for use of fire, Kalis was sorry for the chaos that was caused.

Once he was sent in the right direction, Kalis would see the various people who lived here, who may or may not have lost a home or business to fire, and took the time to apologize, saying he was sorry for the destruction his men caused by their use of fire. He expected to have people spit at him or yell at him, or even hit him. What ever would happen Kalis would take it, and then go about his way and find this Mr. Lowe and offer to help, to do his part.

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-21 01:53 EST
Dockside September 21st 1:00AM

After bringing back sandwiches and making sure his and Maia's people ate, it was back to work for Harold. The first thing he did was divide his people into watches — now that most of the fires were under control or out, he was able to give his people a break. So, half of them went and slept in the newly restored fo'c'sle of the Balclutha, and the other half, who felt the stronger, stayed on duty.

He did as well. He wished he would have brought those neat radios of Sev's to keep in contact with Maia, but he hadn't thought of it. He sent a runner to go check for Stephen Kidd's brother at the Powder Keg Pub. It was well within the 'safe' area of the Dockside, and then maybe they could pass word through the city watch to Kidd as to the whereabouts of Robert.

In the meantime, he went back to work dragging zombie bodies to where they were going to be burned. It was hard work, and smelled terrible, but he was tired enough now that he just didn't give a f—k anymore. But he did do something as he worked...

...he wrote down their names. Some of them still had identification on them. Not all, or even most, but some. Paperwork. A library card.

Pictures.

He wrote down their names, and collected up the pictures, putting them all into a wooden crate. When there was more than a single piece, he tucked them in there in order with the name on top of that set.

He didn't let himself think about that. He couldn't let himself think about that. If he did, something inside him would crumble.

"Don't think, just do your damn job."

So he and his half-strength crew worked on gathering the bodies of the dead; a few kept watch on some still questionable fires. The last thing he paused to do was send the young man who had been waiting to take Kalis-nar a brief message; no time to write it.

"Report at dawn, wear old clothes and good thick boots, and meet Bill Wainwright in the northern end of the area to start cleaning up fire debris. Have a good breakfast first. Take care, see you tomorrow."

Then back to the dead he went.

Spirited Corsair

Date: 2007-09-21 02:58 EST
Dockside

21 September

01:00

It was astonishing how, in times of crisis, people could fight through their hunger and fatigue and live the definition of the word benevolence. Dockside had fallen into relative order, and those who remained there worked hard together to keep it that way.

Barricades had been built from the rubble to help control the flow of traffic, and restrict access to the dock area. Earlier, Maia and Harry had gone through the few dozen men and women and figured who would be best suited for what. The sailors and workers fell in line, and something like a chain of command fell right into place. No telling how long it would last, but the short term might just be enough. Maia had been given the best marksmen, the fastest and most nimble, and those with the stomach to fight.

Sixteen in all....close to the number of her crew. She sent one of the marksmen to the highest point with a clear view, and the other to sleep through the watch. There was a pair for the gate as well, and that left twelve. Maia taught them the basics; how to strike and how to defend. It would have to do.

"The twelve of you will be on primary ground patrol in standard duty shifts of four hours a piece, round the clock. Each unit will consist of three, two units out at a time. You are not to split up, ever."

As Maia divided the teams, she also distributed the air horns that had been found in one of the charred warehouses. Not everything had been lost, and these little things were a handy find; it was good of Harry to send a runner with some. Weapons were distributed, and every team was outfitted with range weapons, as well as things that were handy for close encounters. There was some improvisation; a few of the teams had cricket bats, one man was wielding an ice pick, but it would do in a pinch.

"You get in over your head, and you can't run to base, use these. One M- that's two even dashes- and no more. Sound will draw them from a distance, but not any faster than it will draw me and mine. When you aren't patrolling, you are resting. The next few days will be long, and you need to stay fresh so that you don't get stupid. Wilkins, Chen- your teams are on now. Hayes and Zorin, your groups will be up for morning watch."

Her steely gaze moved over the faces assembled. Everyone was dirty, and everyone was grim, but all things considered, it was a good looking group. Their eyes were bright and their jaws were set. Maia had a reasonable about of confidence in them.

"Go to. Be smart, and be safe."

Maia moved to what served as the main gate, for the time being. It was, by no means, the only way into Dockside, but with the barricades placed where they were (and the piles of ash and rubble elsewhere) most things that wanted in would have to come through her. Not to mention Jace or Broggun, the imposing pair who took turns by the bells sitting at that entrance. Their size wouldn't deter zombies, but it would likely deter other kinds of trouble.

Her eyes had adjusted to the blackness, and her nose to the stink of smoke on the salted air. Maia sent a silent prayer of sorts out into that darkness and up to the stars that she could not see.

One night. Just give us this one.

Spirited Corsair

Date: 2007-09-21 05:21 EST
Dockside

21 September

04:07



The morning watch had just begun their shift, and Maia was beginning to feel a little bit of the ache in her back that typically came when her brain figured out that you had been awake a bit longer than was prudent. She was intimately acquainted with that feeling.

The middle watch had done well on patrol. A few small groups of zombies had fallen without incident, and some looters had been deterred and sent on their merry way. The success of the operation thus far had done good things for the morale of those at Dockside. All things considered, it had been a quiet night.

Maia leaned against the wall of one of the warehouses near the gate, sharpening her blades one at a time. Yes, her body was weary, but her mind was active beyond belief. She needed to keep something moving, something going, or she thought she might go mad. It was in this second-winded state that Hayes found her.

"I thought I told you to stay with your unit."

"Captain"we need you."

Maia looked up into the face of the young woman, and even in the dim light, she could see that Hayes had gone very, very pale.

"What is it, Hayes?"

"Just come. Please."

The sailor and her captain crossed the area with haste, coming to a warehouse near the western perimeter. Casen and Rider, the two men assigned to work with Hayes, looked every bit as spooked as she did. Moans were coming from inside the building, and that aimless clunking sound of the creatures within trying to find a way out. Something sounded off. When a ghastly hand pressed to the thick glass of the window, Maia understood what she was hearing.

The white palm pressed to the glass was small. So very small.

"Captain, we trapped three of them in there. I know they aren't' but we just?"

"Hayes, you don't need to apologize. Continue your patrol."

Hayes, Casen, and Rider all spent a long moment looking at Maia before they turned and moved away, back to work. Everybody tried not to think about what was about to go down in that warehouse. Everybody tried to be objective and rational.

Maia drew her blade and opened the door. There was nothing that felt rational about this.

Ten minutes later, she had wrapped the bodies in blankets and found a cart to move them in. Maia drew her face into a very neutral mask. There would be no more feeling that night. She would wait for the sun to shed a its light on the horror of the infection. The cart was wheeled to where they had started the carefully contained funeral pyre.

Harry was still running the show there. Maia brought the three herself, not solely because she wanted to spare someone else the horror, but because she wanted to see him. The Welshman looked rough. It was clear that the length and labor of the day (and the stress of losing the brig, no doubt) had caught up with him. The cart was left aside, with orders to stay far from it, and she moved to where he labored over the lost.

"Harry?"

He paused a moment in his labor, looked at her, then his gaze slid over to the cart she had delivered. Harry didn't miss a trick. Before he could ask her, before he could say anything, Maia crossed to him and laid her hand gently on his back. The lilt of her voice, so often used to bellow over the tide, was inaudible to any but him.

"Come on, love. I need you to get some sleep. We should take shifts like the others, and there isn't anybody else here I trust to watch my back while I am out. You first, let's go.?

There was a long look between them. What she had just done, and the headspace she had needed to enter to do it, left not an inch for argument. Maia still had fire enough to run the show for a few more hours, and beyond if need be. No doubt he could see it, and so he nodded and he went along. She walked with Harry back towards the Balclutha, and watched until he was out of sight and on his way to bed.

Those who had been working to tend the fire with Harry were sent for coffee, just to give her the few moments that she needed. Once she was alone beside the flame that reached up into the sky, Maia finished the job. One of the children had been wearing a small, simple golden locket. With a steady, grimy hand, Maia unhitched the little clasp and added it to the box of photographs and names. The three bodies were added to the fire. It was a monstrous bit of mercy.

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-21 12:38 EST
Dockside September 21st 11:00AM

The quarters for the captain in the Balclutha had been refinished with Sirin Daltiya in mind. All warm oak and blue cushions on the chairs, a desk that was built sturdy and as much room as anyone ever can have on a sailing ship. The letter to her still sat on the desk.

"If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I like to believe that perhaps in another life, we'll get it right. But until then, here is something that does live; something saved, something that will survive despite everything."

He didn't think about how apt that was when Maia had sent him off the line to bed, but he did when he woke up. He turned it over in his mind for awhile, though he didn't touch the dusty letter on the desk.

He thought about the woman out there now. She'd taken great care with him, and it was appreciated. But he knew her look from his own mirror; don't think, don't feel, just do your damned job. Work until you just can't anymore, and then drop, then work again. Don't think about what you saw.

Don't think about what you had to do.

"...lay on your oars."

Harold shook his head, got dressed, and went back above.



In the light of day, it all seemed less horrific to him, not more. The glow of fires didn't seem so eerie. The sun was clear and bright, the day was warm but not unGodly so. Maia was still on the line, but she looked like she was about to the end of her endurance.

Not that it showed in many ways that most could see. Her icy eyes were still sharp, and her stance was still that of pure command, her voice was a little rough from smoke but still able to ring out clearly. But there was something that he could see under that. He couldn't define it, or describe it; it was just a certain knowledge.

"Your turn," he said, just a shade above a whisper. "Anything I should know?"

"We checked the last of the warehouses. There's nothing left but the living now. I had five more people come and volunteer, and I have set them to work. Your monarch reported as well." Maia tipped her chin up, looking past the Balclutha and at the sea beyond.

Harry nodded, studying her face for a moment. "All right, I've got it. Get some sleep, and I'll see if we can't finish the dirty work today and start the hopeful side of this Godforsaken task."

She turned her eyes back to him for a moment, and the corner of her mouth lifted only for a moment. He didn't know if it was for his benefit, or if it was because she wanted to feel that hopeful task approaching, but he did know that she needed the rest. And that with any luck, it would be kind to her. "Fair enough, love. I'll see you when I get up."

He took the liberty of kissing her cheek as she left, then turned to the task at hand.



"All right! I need these things in this order! Singer, go to the Red Dragon and try to find Icer, if you please. Ask her if she would be willing to take a flying patrol of the city and knock down any large structure fires still burning, as well as report back on any undead activity remaining. Tell her not to engage, just let me know where they are."

Harold was in his element giving orders. He could take them well, but he was a natural at giving them. Singer nodded and left his knot of people, and he focused back on them.

"I want the last of the bodies on the pyre by 2:00. Preston, take charge of that. Sindler, I want you to take three men and bring us all some lunch. Myers, go check on Wainwright's lot. Tell him that if Kalis-nar wishes to speak with me, I'll take some time during dinner and do so. Hayes," to the now rested, if not haunted looking woman, "widen your patrol range by a couple streets. We might as well work further into the city and see what we can accomplish by light of day."

Harry nodded smartly, clasping his hands behind his back. "By this evening, I want us to be in a more comfortable position than we are now. So, once the bodies we have are burned and we get what we can done, we're going to cut back the work crews for the night hours and up the dockside patrols to stand guard while we all get some more proper rest.

"Let's get to it."

Lucius DeAuster

Date: 2007-09-21 14:29 EST
The North Shore Gate September 21 5:22 am

"Movement!"

Ferragus groaned at the call from the lookout, and hoisted himself to his feet. It had been quiet for some hours since the last incident, and Hreldric had sent most of his men back toward the embassy, with fresh faces arriving soon after to take their places along the barricade, allowing the men of the Watch to finally get some much-needed rest.

That rest did not come easy, however. Whenever the captain closed his eyes, he again saw the mass of zombies pushing over the barricade in a mad surge, and the cries of both living and undead still echoed in his mind"

1:17am

"Here they come!" one of the guardsmen had yelled, somewhat needlessly. By the light of the moon they all could see the shuffling mass breaking toward them, primordial screaming heralding the rush. He had turned toward his archers, slashing his arm down in a wordless order to fire. Streaks of red had lashed out at the zombies, the arrows lit just before being fired. In the self-contained courtyard it made for a somewhat effective weapon, but the zombies charged on.

To his left the barbarian Hreldric was shouting at his men in their guttural language, preparing them for the assault. His own warriors, pole arms already in hand, stood behind the wagons, using the wooden sides as levers as they hacked at the undead trying to clamber up the sides of the makeshift barricade. The shouts of the living mingled eerily with the screams of the undead, a cacophonic soundtrack to the ferocity of this push.

One zombie, having clambered up onto the wagon despite a gash in it's shoulder that would have felled a living being, leaped at the line of guardsmen, bowling two over in the headlong rush. All three went down in a flailing of limbs, one crying out in agony as dirty teeth sank into his neck, the burst of blood dark in the flickering torchlight. He growled as he had stepped up, his sword arcing down to take the head off the zombie and slice open the skull of his man in the same blow. But the damage was done.

In taking down the two guardsmen the zombie had opened a hole in the defences, and the horde behind quickly took advantage, two more leaping down and charging the warriors to either side. More streamed in behind, and as he tried to help stop the tide he could hear shouts of desperation from the Northras's ranks, as they were similarly overwhelmed. "We're losing the line!" He screamed, hoping his counterpart would hear him over the din. Another of his men was dragged down, the press of undead too great for anyone to reach him, and the hole in the defenses grew wider.

A blast of sound brought him about, and he saw Hreldric holding a curved horn in hand. Again the note sounded, a long single call that echoed off the walls, and drawing the attention of those few remaining living. "Through the gates!" The Northras had cried out, twin axes flashing as he struck down a zombie clawing at him. "NOW!" he had nodded, even as he ducked to avoid a slashing of jagged nails, his blade slamming home into the thing's leg and taking it down.

"Go!" he yelled, grabbing one of his men by the pauldron and pulling him back, a shoved impetus sending him toward the dark mouth of the North Shore Gate. The others who could turned and ran also, though one of the archers was dragged down before he could get three steps. Hreldric's men joined them, and the remaining passed through the archway, rounding the curve of the road only to skid to a sudden stop. Another line of men was charging down the road toward the gate, the pale light glinting off the drawn weaponry as they approached at a full run.

Hreldric grabbed his shoulder and pulled him aside, against the wall as the wall of men roared past, meeting the surge of zombies that had followed the fleeing warriors through the gate. He had the impression of heavy armor, a deep crimson shade, and the newcomers were matching the screams of the zombies with their own, driving into the undead with a zeal bordering on the fanatic. He, Hreldric and the rest turned and fell in behind the new arrivals, letting them push back the tide as they took care of the twitching remains in their wake, separating head from shoulder with grim surety.

The fighting lasted another half hour, and it was only when the last of the hissing cries of the zombies had drifted away that he could take stock of the situation. Of his twenty men, only six remained, including himself. Of the fifteen Northras who had held the barricade with them only Hreldric and three others still lived. The two commanders had stood silently by one another as a third joined them, the ichor-dripping greataxe held easily in one hand. Hreldric brought a fist up to lightly thump against his right chest in salute, and the stranger nodded once to him before looking to Ferragus. "You are the commander here?"

The words were no question, and Ferragus nodded slightly, feeling a dead weight trying to settle as the adrenaline of the moment ebbed. "That's right. Captain Ferragus, of the XI Guard Wing." Steel-grey eyes looked him over for a second, before the helm again tilted slightly.

"Lucius DeAuster." The penetrating gaze moved to the courtyard, and the bodies lying strewn over the cobblestones. The armored warriors were moving among the fallen, separating heads from shoulders and hacking the arms and legs free, rendering the corpse immobile. "I must commend you for holding the gate as long as you did, Captain." The warrior looked back to him, the gaze assessing. "It gave me enough time to get more troops here. Well done."

"My men will take over the barricade. You and your men should rest..."

Moving up to stand beside one of the armored barbarians, Ferragus looked over the courtyard at the approaching forms. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched, for something wasn't right?"Hold your fire!" The men approaching were moving in formation, something the zombies had never done. Ignoring the looks from his men and the Northras he clambered over the wagon and headed out to meet the approaching column, stopping halfway across the courtyard and gathering himself to salute and identify himself as the lead man reached him.

"Captain Hawkress, VII Guard." The lean faced captain looked around Ferragus toward the barricade, and then around at the piles of bodies that had yet to be set ablaze. "We're here to relieve you."

"Thank the light!" Ferragus would have wept for joy, had he not been so exhausted. He almost wilted where he stood, but managed to maintain his composure. "What's the word?"

"We're finding fewer pockets of the outbreak right now, and the commanders are shuffling assets around. You and your men are to report to your barracks for rest, food and reassignment." Something in the way Hawkress was looking at the barbarians piqued Ferragus's curiosity, as it was a hard glare that the he and his men were sending.

"Is there something wrong, Captain?" At his question Hawkress turned the look on him, though it did soften a touch.

"There were some" problems"with some of the troops sent into the city." It was easy enough to tell he was picking his words carefully. "The Commander's of the Guard have ordered all foreign troops out of the city until further notice."

"What?" Ferragus was aghast at what he heard, and shook his head quickly in denial. "If it hadn't been for them, you'd have marched into a bloodbath up here!"

"I didn't say I agreed with it, but that's what the orders say. And they're signed by the governor's office." Hawkress snapped back, pointing up toward the barricade. "We'll wait, and give them time to leave. We don't any more problems."

"Yeah, I'll tell them." Ferragus growled as he turned and stalked back to the barricade. Luckily, Hreldric was still here, and he explained what was happening.

"And thus, the honor of men." The Northras had growled softly, and Ferragus shook his head, holding up a hand.

"It's not my idea. But I have my orders. I don't like it anymore than you." The words seemed to mollify the barbarian, for Hreldric nodded and reached out to grasp Ferragus's gore-streaked pauldron.

"You and your men earned much these last days. It was an honor to fight beside you." Half-turning, Hreldric barked something in his native tongue, and the Northras began to pull back from the barricade. "I will tell Lord DeAuster what is transpiring, and of your men's spirit." And for the first time, Ferragus saw a smile split the taciturn features. "Worthy of the Quadravant.?

Nothing else was said, and Ferragus stood silently as the barbarians formed up to march back up the road, wondering about that last Hreldric had imparted to him.

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-21 14:37 EST
Dockside September 21st 1:30 PM



Lang was making his way into the Docksides. He had spent most of his night and early moring, going from sector to sector adding with the fighting, as well as firefighting. It had been a long fight for the people of Rhy'Din, but it showed that when a mass attack threatened the city...People banded together to fight it off.



He paused a moment to look around, taking in the actions going on around him for the moment. " Well...might as well see if I can help out here. " Said to himself before heading further in. He wasn't going to piss and moan about being tired. Hell, most of Rhy'Din was tired at the moment..Time to shut up, suck it up and get to work on repairing the damage.

He managed to spot Harry, whom he seen at the Inn just last night, and figured he'd be the one to talk to on this. So, without any delay, he walked over to him. " Looks like you are the one calling the shots....Where do you need me? " He'd worry about introductions later, the rebuilding of the city and removal of dead bodies was far more important right now.

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-21 15:10 EST
Dockside September 21st 1:30PM

When Lang asked where he was needed, Harry took a moment to look around and assess the progress. The bodies were actually on the last burn now; ahead of schedule, which pleased him. A good many men now had moved to clearing debris around a few of the houses that hard burned.

He was going to need builders and carpenters at some point soon. But clearing the lots would leave room for a house-raising of sorts. So, that was where he pointed. "Over there, if you could; grab a wheelbarrow and start hauling the debris away to where the pyre was. Might as well get on the rebuilding part of this."

He gave Lang a pat on the back, a gesture of gratitude. Not so long ago, he was perfectly prepared to walk away from this city for good. Now....it was heartening to see it pull together, despite past troubles.

As he turned back to tending the last of the zombie-incineration fires, he paused a moment and looked out to sea.

And after a few minutes, his clean tenor rang out:

"As I was walked down the Landing Stage, "All on a summer's morn..."

A few sailors picked up the chorus. "Heave away, me Johnny, heave away!"

Harry smiled and kept going.

"It's there I spied an Irish girl, A-lookin' all forlorn—!"

More and more joined with each passing verse, until quite a few even landlubbers had picked up the tune. And the Dockside sang a shanty.

"And away me Johnnie boys, We're all bound to go!"

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-21 15:25 EST
Dockside September 21st 1:30 PM



He glanced over to where Harry pointed to, before nodding lightly. " Alright..I can do that. " A glance to the male at the pat to his back, and nodded to its meaning. Without another word, he moved over to one of the free wheelbarrows, and got to work. He would load it up, as well as some of the other mean doing the same, before heading to the pyre and unloaded it.

He was looking around as he continued to repeat this back and forth motion. A smile crossed his lips as well to seeing the city pulling together, putting aside the vast differences and pitching in to help out. The sad thing was..It took something so deadly to shut people up and open there eyes to what was more important.

He'd probably be sticking around in the Dockside, once the debris was cleared out, not knowing or caring how long it would take. He could help out more when it came to the rebuilding. Right now, every able hand would be welcomed, as it was going to take everyone working together to rebuild the town.

JewellRavenlock

Date: 2007-09-21 15:32 EST
September 21st Midday

Carley's eyes were fixated on the ceiling. What else was there to do' She was starving, she was bored, and aside from her cot, blanket, and super gross and probably broken toilet she soooo wasn't about to use there was nothing in that little cell. Frowning, she turned from the ceiling to the bars, waiting still. Soon they'd realize their mistake. They had to. Right"

Jewell was exhausted in every sense of the word. Energy deprivation had her body trembling with the slightest exertion but that would not keep her from her goal today: to visit the jail. She had to confirm some news she heard that had caused her to stop putting out fires the previous day in order to do a little dance (while laughing hysterically) in the streets of RhyDin. For a moment, people had considered locking her up too!

Dressed in her gear fit for fighting"that black leather with buckles and straps all over for keeping every sized blade she owned secure'she entered the jail. There were only a few guards present, the rest all out still trying to help end the zombie infestation, and she nodded to one of the ones she recognized. "I'm here to see one of the prisoners. Captain sent me over because I've got a knack with identifying these zombie vermin." Gosh, she had no conscience at all, just rattled off that lie like it was nothing.

The guard gave her a brief once over before waving on for her to continue. He wasn't about to argue with someone decked out in all those blades, and hey' If she was here to do his job for him, why argue that"

The little blonde elf in the cell was a contrast to Jewell. She had been wearing the same clothes a couple days now, and her hair was a mess, for lack of a comb or brush. Her precious beret had been confiscated, and she couldn't get her magic to work! Wards and all. And without a shower for her to use, well....she was probably starting to smell just as terrible as the jail itself!

Jewell smiled pleasantly to the guard and headed back down the rows of cells she was vaguely familiar with. This wasn't the same site that Darren and she had been brought to but it had the same basic lay out. Carley was easy to find, standing out from the other inmates who actually deserved to be there. Jewell stopped before her cell with a wicked grin forming, "Well well well...Marc Franco's little sweetheart isn't as perfect as he thinks. I had to come see this for myself...it's just too great to miss!"

So, either she was in the midst of a bad dream gone even worse, or someone was here to save her" No. No, it had to be the bad dream. She blinked a bit at the voice, before quickly scrambling to her feet, scowling a bit at the words. "I didn't do anything wrong!" Voice hoarse and whiny all the same. The guards hadn't even been giving her water! She scrambled to the bars, grasping them with her hands as she leaned into them. "Ya gotta get me out of here! They think I'm a zombie!" Bright blues were wide and desperate.

Jewell wasn't a naturally cruel person, but she did have a mean streak. Faeries did not forget slights against them. "I have to help you?" She laughed again before her nose wrinkled up and she was cringing away from the bars, "Ew! You certainly smell like a zombie, maybe you are one! And why should I help you anyways, after all you've done to me?"

"I am not a zombie!" Huff. The intelligent thing to do at this point' Apologize. Beg. Be sincere in seeking forgiveness. Work out differences. But sometimes, okay, most times, Carley was her own worst enemy. "And you started all that anyways!" Scowling through the bars. "Yer such a self righteous b***h you know that!?" Screeching then, she weakly reached through the bars, grasping at the blue haired one. "You tell them I'm not a zombie or I'm gonna make you regret it!!" Yeah, that's logical.

Brows shot up as insult was added to injury and Carley just dug her own grave. Jewell could have been nice. She could show that she was the better person here. Instead" She would flaunt her freedom in Carley's face. She backed away from those grasping hands, putting on an affected air of terror, "Don't touch me, you evil undead thing! You'll rot in here before I help you out, zombie!" She smirked at her, taunting.

Gasp! "Stop it! Yer makin' it worse!" She whined a bit, biting at her lip. "If you keep it up they're gonna cut my head off!" Wow, that's sure to motivate Jewell to stop it, isn't it' "If you're just here to be mean then go!" Cheeks puffed out as she pointed towards the exit. "Try not letting your fat ass hit the wall on the way out. I don't think the guards would appreciate you knocking a wall out so the criminals can escape." Taunting back, because she's given up. Just totally and utterly given up.

Oh, those fat ass comments grated on her nerves so bad. "You are nothing but a whiney baby, you know that?" Disgusted, she turned away from her and headed back down towards where the guards were sitting (too busy watching for other zombies to really have been paying attention to their conversation). She paused by the one she had spoken to earlier, casting a serious glance back over her shoulder towards Carley's cell. "She's a zombie all right. You better keep her here until you can get a vaccination that they're giving out. Or maybe just kill her." Jewell shrugged, trying not to smile, "Your choice."

Carley shot a not so ladylike gesture towards Jewell as she departed, before sighing. That could have gone better. With a whimper she shuffled on back to her bed, collapsing in it face down, tummy growling.

The guard nodded to Jewell, trusting in her judgment and buying into her act completely. "We'll keep her here for now, see if we can't get our hands on that. We're waiting on word from our captain now. Final decision is up to him." And the guard honestly wasn't looking forward to getting in the cell with Carley to try to administer a shot to her.

"Good luck. She's one of those mean zombies." Nodding sagely, as if there was really a 'mean' type compared to a 'non-mean' type of zombie. "Bite your head right off if you don't keep her restrained." And with that pleasant news, she was heading off towards the door with a salute to the men. "Have a good day!" She sounded way to happy when she said that.


Keaton

Date: 2007-09-21 15:37 EST
Friday, 21 September 3:00 p.m.

"...Surreal few days, huh, Rhy'Din. You guys fought 'em off, we're back on the air....but 's not over. People all over need money, food, shelter, an' more than anythin', a helpin' hand to rebuild." There's a pause. It's difficult to find the words. "So....yeah. I'll be listin' people an' places that need assistance, an' what they need. Anyone got anythin' they want added to the list, give us a call, send us a message, an' we'll put it up."

And for five minutes, that's what he does. Places of business, neighborhoods, and names of families who require or are organizing assistance.

"Remember, you want anythin' on that list, you jus' let us know. Meantime, we'll keep broadcastin' it every hour on the hour 'til further notice. This nex' one goes out to everyone we lost....Peace."

For the next hour, it's mostly Beatles, starting with "Let It Be."

Lydia Loran

Date: 2007-09-21 19:17 EST
Rhydin Jailhouse September 21st 6:43 PM

After Lydia dropped off some dresses, blankets, and other assorted clothing and accessories a young girl would need to the address Rena gave her, she was out searching for her missing blonde friend again. She tried not worrying too much, since Carley was tough, despite her size, and because after the incident with Erin" If she worried too much she really would just go crazy. The green haired one could only take so much stress, and having one thing happen right after another, well, it was getting to her. But it helped that so many were putting forth effort in the whole zombie fiasco, gave her a little more hope in humanity, and it was paying off too! Since the numbers were dwindling. And even other things, like Rena's kindness to 'Daisy' helped her to see that good was out there.

However, 'good' was not at the jailhouse. Why was she at the jailhouse" Lydia had finally caught up with someone at Carley's apartment complex who managed to give her a lead. A good one. Someone of Carley's description was seen leaving with a member of the watch. And really, how many other girls were there around that looked like Carley' And who cursed as much as she was told this girl did...

After a considerable amount of arguing and debate the guards at the jailhouse finally led Lydia to the cell with the girl of Carley's description, and sure enough...

"Fire?" Carley looked kind of pitiful, sitting on her cot, her hands and legs bound together, beret missing and her hair an unruly mess. "Fire!?" As belief sunk in, she became a little more excited, bounding to her...bound feet. With a hophophop she made her way to the bars, thumping against them.

"Gods, Carley?" Pale blues blinkety blinked before Lydia angrily turned towards the guard. "Why is she bound like that?"

"She's a zombie." Straight-faced, he was.

Cue the blinking once more. "A...what? No she's not!" Lydia didn't know whether she was angry, confused, or both. "Zombies don't talk do they' And she's talking, and she's not dead looking and...what gave you the idea she was a zombie?""

Before the guard could talk, Carley interjected. "It was that awful blue haired heiffer! She came in here, and...and.." Sniffle. "She was so mean to me, and taunted me, and lied and told them I was a zombie, and she told them to tie me up, and they did!" She frowned, holding up her bound wrists. "And they haven't given me any food or water and it's just been awful!"

Lydia frowned more and more as she listened to Carley's whining, before turning to the guard again. "She's not a zombie. I should know." Sighing, she rubbed at her temple. "Gods, we've been so worried...she just went missing and.." She shook her head. "I promise you she's not one...she doesn't have any of the symptoms and...gods, could you just let her out now?"

Lydia and Carley both had a look of hope...which deflated as the guard shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't. Even if what you claim is true, she assaulted and busted up a few of the guards that had to restrain her. So charges had to be pressed against her. They'll likely be dropped, but she has to remain here, unless bail is posted for her."

"Bail?" Carley was whining again. "Fire, can't ya do somethin'?" She bounced a bit on the balls of her feet, nearly tumbling over as she regarded the green haired elf.

"How much is bail?" Lydia looked to the guard curiously.

"Let me go draw up the paper work." He gave her the one moment gesture before skidaddling back to the office. The green haired elf offered Carley a reassuring smile and a pat on the hand through the bars, and when the guard returned he offered the paperwork over. "Here ya are. Charges are listed, bail is at the bottom."

Pale blues skimmed past the long list quickly, widening at the price listed. "Ah...?" A blink, and she looked hesitantly to Carley. "Carley...I can't afford this."

"What!?" Screeching, she shook her head. "You have to!"

"Even if I dug up all my savings, this is beyond what I can afford!" Lydia furrowed her brow. "I don't know what-"

"Eri's loaded! Get Eri and bring her here!"

"Bu-"

"Get her! You can't leave me here!!"

"Ca-"

"FIRE!!!"

After a bit more screeching and even a little crying from the little blonde, Lydia gave a long suffering sigh, hung her head, and left the jailhouse in search of Erin....But on the positive side, she really was relieved that her friend was okay. Assuming being locked up in a jail cell and bounded counted as 'okay'.

Elly

Date: 2007-09-21 19:45 EST
Elly's Atelier September 21st 7:12 PM

After a couple sleepless days and nights of hard work, The Witch finally created a vaccination against the virus that caused the zombie epidemic. It's creation came a bit late, and The Witch lamented the fact that there were so many people she couldn't save, but even if her vaccine could save a few now, or prevent another epidemic in the future, wasn't it still worth it' It was looking to the positives that always made her press on and keep working in times like these.

The vaccination, administered via a shot, was safe for anyone; humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, hobbits, man, woman, child. If administered before a bite, it has a 95% chance of fighting off the virus that turns living to undead. However, it is useless if administered afterwards, and cannot reverse the effect.

She had to be quick to get word and vaccine out!

Pumpkinheads and skeletons worked to pack the vaccine into boxes, along with instructions, and the human members of The Witch's army marched outwards from the northern forest, delivering vaccinations to various stations belonging to The Guard, independent groups and armies, quite a few people at the docks, all just in case a zombie made another appearance. It didn't hurt to be prepared did it' The most was delivered to anyone on the outskirts of town, working to eradicate the odd zombie that appeared, since they were the ones most at risk. Some vaccinations were delivered to the governor's office, along with a letter from The Witch herself, explaining, and offering apologies for not being able to have it done sooner.

And finally, with her work done? The Witch promptly passed out in her bed, getting some well deserved sleep.

Icer1978

Date: 2007-09-21 19:59 EST
West End September 21 7:15 PM.

All was quiet as the dragoness glided overhead, patroling the streets for any zombie activity, too quiet, save for a small group of un nerved citizens that had taken up the cause to battle blazes.

Fires still burning, as she made her way from one building to the next, coating anything she could with her icefire, and letting the ice that formed melt onto the flames, one, two, she'd extinguished at least eight or nine fires by the time that Singer caught up with her.

Singed wings beat as she stayed aloft, peering down at the man approached, but she didn't say a word until he had reassured her that he'd been sent by Harry.

A breath taken in, she gave a faint smile, though still not showing her fangs, eight fires have been doused so far, and I've seen little activity at all in the streets, though a few have mentioned there are still a few zombies to the West of the Red Dragon, I haven't gotten that far yet to check it out, nodding to the blazing city that she and a small rag tag band of citizens were battling.

You can tell Harry that I believe we've West End under control.., though we could use a few more hands.

Spirited Corsair

Date: 2007-09-21 20:46 EST
Dockside 21 September 20:08

Things were coming along beautifully at Dockside. Harry and Maia had managed to establish a watch schedule and a pretty effective chain of command. If they had achieved their goal, it would eventually be an easy thing for the two officers to step away from Dockside and head back out to sea, where they assuredly belonged.

The pair returned from the Eastern Point Lighthouse just a little before eight, a bag packed with some blessedly clean clothes, and in the company of Bertie and Ralmo Hausenfelter, the elderly couple who owned and operated Daily Bread. The longtime citizens of RhyDin, tired of being cooped up, jumped at the chance to get hands-on in the relief effort. They would now be working round the clock to keep the workers fed at Dockside, and the meals would not disappoint.

They were about to part company to check on a few things when Zorin approached, a little breathless. The wiry man spoke, hands moving with some excitement.

"Ma"am, Sir" There is a delivery at the main gateway, and they want to see the person in charge. Said something about a vaccine."

That had Maia's attention. A little bit of excitement welled up in her, but not without a healthy dose of skepticism. After a pat to Harry's arm, they followed Zorin back to the gate.

"Harry, I've never heard of such a thing."

"Neither have I."

The representative of Elly's army explained everything quite succinctly, and Maia carefully perused the instructions.

"How many doses?" asked the Welshman, eyeing the crate.

"Eight dozen, with more to follow as more is produced," said Elly's man.

"And what does she want for this?" Maia knew the contents of that box were worth a great deal, if indeed it could do what was claimed.

"Nothing, oh' nothing. Godspeed."

He left the box behind and departed, and immediately, Maia picked it up. They needed to set up a med station, and determine who among them would be inoculated first.

"Harry?"

"Three steps ahead of you, love. Let's set up, quietly, on the Balclutha. It's clean enough there."

She nodded her agreement.

A quarter of an hour later, Maia and Harry sat opposite one another at the little table they had set up, and had each loaded a vaccine into a syringe. It had been easily agreed that those most likely to encounter the remaining undead would be the first to be vaccinated, and that certainly meant the two of them. With her sleeve rolled well above the elbow, and something like a genuine smile on her face, she said, "Cheers, Harry."

The needle broke through her skin, and she emptied the contents of the syringe, leaving just a bead of blood behind. It was, perhaps, the most hopeful bit of blood that she had ever seen.

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-21 21:00 EST
Dockside September 21st 8:50PM.

There were many things that Harold Lowe had learned in Rhy'Din. Not because he ever intended to, offhand, but because he had to learn to survive — in a realm where it was very 'do or die', he would not be one of those who died.

On top of his initial first aid understanding gained through sailing, he was practically good enough to at least qualify as a paramedic. He understood the basic principles of medicine, could run an IV, could deal with dosages, knew a good deal about the more commonly used meds and what exactly they could and couldn't do. He could stitch wounds any numbers of ways, from surgical staples to silk, and do so in perfect sterility. He could even perform minor surgery and had.

In as such, it didn't take him long to inoculate his sixty plus volunteers, with Maia's help. Two lines, thirty odd apiece, and it took less than an hour.

It was then that he got twenty of his more alert and rested people together. He took only a few off of Maia's patrols, and the rest from his own rebuilding crew, minus those that were now under Kacilla's command. These were fairly new people who were fresh and since it was getting onto night, he had no trouble sending them to Icer over in the WestEnd to work on the fires and cleanup there. He also directed some pumpkinheads carrying pies in that direction, since they now had the two best bakers in Rhy'Din with them in their district.

He just sent a simple message.

Icer:

Here's twenty of mine. They've all been given that vaccine Elly sent out, so they're ready and willing to go right to work. Good luck in the WestEnd, and I'll try to get over and give you a hand myself tomorrow, if I'm able. Thank you for the help thus far.

-Harold

He told his group to report directly to her for orders, and sent one of the patrols along just in case there was trouble. Maybe by tomorrow, the WestEnd fires would be put out, and all buildings swept clean.

Or, he hoped.

And that was as powerful as any vaccine.

Kacilla Lynne

Date: 2007-09-21 21:54 EST
Dockside September 21st 9:00PM

There were more houses marked for demolition than salvage, but Kacey and her small crew were making progress Dockside in determining which was which. The warehouses were easier, in general " it seemed if they had been caught in the fires, they were beyond salvage, almost without exception. In large open buildings like that, it didn't take much damage to load-bearing frames before they were unsafe. Cheaper and easier to simply rebuild.

Dans, Reese and Milton had each been given a quick lesson in what to look for " warping or buckling in the floors from heat or the sudden quenching of the flames by ice. Places where dry rot had weakened support timbers. Places where wet rot had been force-dried by the fires and the wood was now crumbling into dust. They were finding almost more damage through simple neglect in this area than from the fires.

The flames, it seemed, were simply a catalyst. In many ways, this district would rise stronger than before. Bright yellow chalk had been found in one half-ruined house, and Kacey and her team were using that to scrawl on the sides of houses the verdict " Destroy or Rebuild. For those who couldn't read, a simpler mark next to the word, a large X if there was no hope, or a checkmark if it could be saved. There were far more Xs than checkmarks.

Small moments of hope, Dans coming up from one basement where he'd been checking the foundations, a six-week old baby cradled in one hand, a seven-year old girl clinging to the other. The gruff dockhand was smiling and crying at the same time, and none of the others made fun of him. They'd found the remains of a battle in the kitchen, in front of the basement door. The bodies were burnt by this point, but the crew didn't expect that the children's parents would be found.

A few more had been sent Kacey's way as they worked up and down the streets and alleys of Dockside. Harry had taken her offer seriously, and woodworkers were being sent to her for direction. She'd had them retrieve sledgehammers from the bag of tools she had left where Harry and Maia had set up camp. They'd all paused at one point to line up for the vaccine " Milton had almost fainted at the needle, and they'd all teased him about that!

And now the light was too poor to continue. The orange and yellow flickering light of torches would hide too much damage. She wouldn't risk marking a house as safe only to have it collapse. Kacey ached all over, she and her whole team were covered with soot and ash, minor scrapes and bruises ? she had managed to put a foot entirely through a patch of floor at one time, up to the hip, and she was limping a bit from that. Reese was nursing a swollen hand where a joist had simply fallen and he was lucky it wasn't worse than that.

They had made progress, but there was still much more to be done. It would be days, if not weeks, before all the demolition was done, and months, at best, before everything was rebuilt. Kacey sent her crew off to get some rest and just sat where she was on the front steps of one of the small houses she had marked for recovery. It was quite a while before she stood, and headed back to her apartment. She would be back in the morning, as soon as the light was good enough.

Kalis-nar

Date: 2007-09-21 21:57 EST
Kalis-Nar, came that morning to the Docks, and helped to rebuild what was lost in the fires, which on his orders were started to stop the spread of the plague. He had worked all day long, and still continued into the night. Kalis being a deity did not need sleep, food or even light to see by, he continued on, for a number of hours, then said goodbye to those who also worked to rebuild. He hoped that these folks, who lived and worked hard would forgive his actions, he never wanted to destroy someone's home or business.

When Kalis leave he found a little girl, orphaned and alone, named Elisa, a young child maybe six or seven, with light brown hair. He asked arround to see if anyone knew her, it seemed no one did. So he asked if she had other family, she had none. Rather than take to the Orphanage, he took her to his Embassy, and saw to it that a Mrs. Atherton, a middle-aged woman, and grandmother, who worked as one of the Embassy's Residents school look after the little girl, until she could be placed with a family. Mrs. Atherton, took Elisa to have something to eat, and give the young girl one of the spare bedrooms in Mrs. Atherton's fairly spacious quarters. Once that was done, Kalis saw to some reports, and summoned his top Templars, Mages and Psions, as well as his Scientists, Kalis wanted an anwser to the cause of the Plague. He would not rest until his people and himself would find an awnser.

Kalis went to his own personal library and began to read his many books and tomes, starting with the occult.

Lydia Loran

Date: 2007-09-22 01:25 EST
?"" September 22nd 1:24 AM

Lydia was moving back to the apartment from the inn, her pace a bit leisurely as she was full of food from a recent meal, and the fact that most of the zombies had been taken care of in the city. Tonight was somewhat taxing as well, so she was just enjoying her walk. Lydia wasn't even quite to WestEnd yet, her surrounding area quite illuminated. A stone was kicked idly, as she rubbed her arms. She felt....chilly' It was a bit odd, especially considering it wasn't really that cold out, and hadn't been. And she normally didn't feel chilly unless it was particularly cold, but tonight' Now"

Chilly.

She didn't think too much on it, however, as she continued along, kicking a stone idly once more. She turned her gaze from the ground to concentrate on the area in front of her, keeping more of a look out than she had the night she was ambushed. Sometimes her mind played tricks, or perhaps it was her paranoia" A shadow moved, she'd look that way, thinking the worst. A sound of any kind" Her mind ventured to bad possibilities.

It was then she thought she heard another sound, from behind.

Frowning, she picked up her pace. Just tricks of her mind again. Nothing more. She was in a good neighborhood, the zombies were gone. Another sound" Something could have fell. Anything. It wasn't anything bad. Couldn't be. She couldn't handle it, not now.

Footsteps.

It was a bit hard to try to explain that with any logic or 'out-there' explanation. She ceased her walking abruptly, swallowing a lump back in her throat. She could very literally hear the one behind her breathing, making some sort of unknown sound, similar to a groan. It couldn't be..." She turned then, suddenly, pale blues widening at the sight.

What was once striking blue eyes" Grey, much like the flesh of the green haired man that towered over Lydia. Before she could react, he reached up suddenly, violently, gripping her by the shoulders, lifting her off her feet. Shrieking, she reached up to grasp at his face, eyes glowing as her flesh grew hot as fire, but it didn't do much other than anger the familiar and undead one holding her. With a gurgled groan he turned suddenly, lifting her higher as he slammed her into a nearby wall. Wincing a bit in pain, Lydia's cry out was cut short, as the blow had knocked the wind from her body. Teeth grit, she lowered her head, eyes glowing a bit brighter as a hand lifted towards his chest. She'd just work a bit of her magic and-

-too late.

He was fast, too much so, as he lurched forward and bit into her shoulder. Teeth clamped down hard, burying deeper in her flesh, infecting her, contaminating her. She screamed then, at the pain, at knowing what was to come, and as she suddenly awoke in bed.

Breathing heavily, Lydia's eyes were wide, voice a bit hoard from the sudden, loud scream. Instinctively, a hand shot up to her shoulder, running over the smooth flesh there. Just a dream. All of it. She frowned and furrowed her brows as she turned and reached towards the other side of the bed, hand running over empty sheets. A faint shiver ran up her spine at the fresh memories of her nightmare, before she sighed realizing she was quite alone at the moment.

She had been resting somewhat well lately, her nightmares decreasing in number, and even the ones she did have weren't quite as....intense. She'd wake, but not so suddenly or violently. Those were much easier to hide. This one? Quite a doozy, running old nightmare themes and new ones together. Double the....well, it sure wasn't pleasure, that's for sure.

Covers were pushed off of herself as she let her legs slide over the edge of the bed. Even being alone for such a short time, it made her uncomfortable. Always did, when she had the nightmares alone. Frowning, she wrapped arms around herself and rose to her feet, pacing a few moments. Soon though, she located and dug up a very large, white, cat plushie that was won for her a little while back. It was kinda comforting, mostly for the reminder of who won it for her.

Crawling back in bed, Lydia wrapped her arms around the cat plushie, snuggling it close and not even worrying with covers again. It'd have to do for now.

Icer1978

Date: 2007-09-22 02:00 EST
West End September 22 1:30 AM

Returning from a well needed break, the dragoness glided overhead, nodding to those that Harry had sent, and glad to see at least three more blazes had been extinguished, what she hadn't expected was seeing Elly's familiar pumpkinheads moving about, passing out pies to those that were assisting and a few people who had been found alive.

Landing for only a moment, she gave a nod though politely declined the offer of a pie her way, instead directing the pumpkinhead toward those who were taking a breather, not that she blamed them.

But there was still work to be done, and taking wing once more, she returned to battling the blazes, most of those left were small, and easilly dealt with, a glance now and then around the area, and she gave a rumble to those patrolling, that it was all clear, there were no zombies spotted.

The men nodded back, then resumed battling blazes with anything they had available, and soon what had been a brightly blazing skyline, was reduced to a dim glow as they worked into the night, and well into morning.

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-22 14:29 EST
Dockside September 22nd 6:30AM

It wasn't even hinting dawn just yet, and Harold was freezing. Which might have been funny to him, given that it was pretty damn warm and muggy out, even before the sun had come up.

The thought crossed through his pounding head that it was a good thing the zombie bodies were all burned; if it was this warm out this early, it would only get worse as the day wore on, and the smell of rotting undead bodies would have been beyond bad.

He lay there for awhile, his blanket up over his head, feeling awful. He'd had a bit of a headache last night, and hadn't gotten back until early morning because he'd been out walking with Maia, but not long after he'd laid down, he started feeling positively terrible. He figured it had something to do with Elly's vaccination campaign; he just hoped that he wasn't going to become some undead thing because of it.

Considering that he could hear his work crew out there shouting to each other, he was pretty sure that it wasn't a wide-spread problem. Probably just a bad reaction — some things did that to him, though he'd never figured out exactly what.

So he lay there and drifted in that plane between sleep and awareness, sometimes edging closer to one or the other. His half-dreams were unsettled; old terrors and new terrors becoming entwined.

White-eyed and frozen and unmoving. White-eyed and groaning and shuffling. Bobbing in the water; hiding in the alleys, grabbing the edge of the boat, the ropes, laying in the streets covered in ice, and he was drowning again, and half-conscious felt himself reach for a warm body to cling to and hold onto to remind him that the cold would pass, and that he was still breathing, in and out, still living...

...it happened again; she breathed life into him, and then she came back to forever scar that life, and someone grabbed hold of his wrist, but in his mind it was a rope, and he lashed out with every single ounce of strength he had.

He came to his senses with his back in the corner of the captain's cabin on the Balclutha, panting and choking for air, his hand still ringing pain up his arm to add to the cacophony in his skull, and the aches through the rest of him, feet still scrambling a little on the ground as he tried to get further away until he realized what had happened.

Greystone looked back at him, shocked but with a certain element of something worryingly like pity, both hands over his nose where blood was leaking from under them.

The Al Na'ir must have come back in, now that the quarantine was mostly over and the docks secure again.

"You all right, sir?" Grey asked after a whole four minutes, though it was muffled and nasal.

"It wasn't me," Harold replied, automatically.

He wasn't referring to the punch.

He didn't wait for anything else. Grey looked after him with concern, but by the time he got his nose to stop bleeding and made it out above deck, Lowe was long gone.

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-22 15:09 EST
Dockside September 22nd Daybreak



" Alright men...Let's start rebuilding. I'd like a group to start mixing and laying concrete where it is needed. I want another group to start on repairing the foundations of the buildings to be clean up and repaired. " Said in a loud voice. He was back after his own brief break, and let the men head home, but asked them to come back. He had spent the night helping the guards, and once the men arrived decided to get the rebuilding kicked off.

" Let's rebuild our town! " Once again in a loud voice, and couldn't help but smile to the cheer he got in return, before the men and women grouped up to get started. He watched them for a moment, before heading off to help out the group that headed off to work on the buildings.

It would be a slow process, but atleast they got an early jump on it. He was just glad that there were no more sightings of zombies in the area, or any fires..Now the slow process of rebuilding this part of town could get underway.

He hadn't meant to just up and take charge like he did, but he was cool with it. Slowly, the buildings would start to be repaired, as well as any left over demolition being done.

Kalis-nar

Date: 2007-09-22 15:22 EST
Dawn of the 22rd of September, The Dockside

Kalis returned to the docks as he had promised he would, carrying his bag of tools and began his part in helping to rebuild. Due to his nature Kalis could easily do the work of at least 20 men, and never tire. He would go where he was needed. He also had a number of his cooks and service staff come with him to help make breakfest, lunch and dinner for the workers and those who lived in the Dockside. A large cook tent and three mess tents where erected in an area that would not interfere with the construction efforts.

Kalis had also wished to see this Mr. HG Lowe, this man seemed to something of respected leader, or at least someone to whom many here in the Dockside looked upto. Kalis wanted to see for himself what kind of man, Mr. Lowe was. Kalis had asked arround hoping to get word to Mr. Lowe, and to see if he cared to talk with kalis at some point. Possibly at dinnertime, at the main mess tent.

With that Kalis after seeing to the setup of the cook and mess tents, went to work, going to help the group that was repairing building foundations.

Yaxlir Aru'Thos

Date: 2007-09-22 16:04 EST
Yaxlir, Son of Kalis-Nar, Crown Prince of the Obsidian Imperium of Athas, came to the West End, he brought with him a small army of 120 doctors, priests, nurses, workers, cooks, and relief aid workers, along with four inixes(large lizard beasts of burden, capable of carrying hundreds of pounds). The relief aid workers and cooks setup a large cook tent, two large mess tents, and a relief tent. They handled the cooking of meals, distribution of M.R.I.s, bottles of clean water, medical aid, clothing and even tempory relief shelter tents, enough for several hundred people.

The laborers, 70 in all, mainly dwarves, muls(half-dwarf/half-human hybrids from Athas, and half-giants, began to help the other volunteers in the clean up efforts and fighting of the fires, that remained. Yaxlir himself also helped in the clean up, he was one prince that did not mind manual labor.

Icer1978

Date: 2007-09-22 18:57 EST
West End September 22 5PM

The dragoness greeted those who brought aid with a simple nod, landing finally after the area was clear of any sign of fire or smoke, just one part done.

Moving down the road, she went to work, knocking down structures that weren't deemed safe enough to remain standing, the last thing she'd need would be the remains of some building crushing the workers.

Singer, you and Hector take up patrolling, the rest of you.., I want some of you to rest, you've been working almost to exhaustion, I will keep watch from the air.

Taking wing again, she landed high atop one of the remaining buildings that almost seemed untouched by flames, keeping her guard up, she wasn't about to lose anyone on her watch.

Kacilla Lynne

Date: 2007-09-22 20:27 EST
Dockside September 22nd 6:30PM

The sun was starting to set, the light was fading fast, and it was almost time to wrap up for the day. Kacey was once again worn to the bone with exhaustion, and more than one scrape and bruise had been added to her collection. She'd seen Lang at one point, organizing a group independently to lay new foundations on the few lots that had been cleared. She was glad of that " the concrete would take time to cure, and the sooner it was started where it could be, the better.

The influx of people from the Obsidian Embassy had been a help, as well " sheer numbers could accomplish a lot of demolition work in short order, and their beasts of burden had been useful in clearing rubble, transporting it to collection points where it could then be hauled out of the city. Kacey had heard that similar efforts were underway in the West End, though it seemed the support there wasn't as massive.

Most of the morning had flown by, finishing marking the houses Dockside for salvage or destruction. She'd split off Dans, Milton and Reese as leaders of their own teams, their experience from the previous day as a guide. The afternoon she spent feeling split in too many directions at once. The efforts of Lang and the Obsidian Halls people were welcome, but the situation was quickly becoming chaotic with more than one person trying to direct things. The workers, while enthusiastic, were starting to get into arguments about their conflicting orders.

Kacey resorted to sending messengers to the various leaders of the Dockside cleanup efforts. The notes were simple, written in a quick scrawl on paper that had been scrounged up from one of the houses.

We need to coordinate this effort. Trying to rebuild before everything that needs to be cleared is removed is going to create logistics nightmares. If you have the time, please meet with me this evening at the Red Dragon Inn so we can discuss an overall plan. I'll be there all night. " Kacilla Lynne

Runners dispatched, Kacey turned to the next hurdle. Most of the lumberyards were Dockside " or more precisely, had been Dockside. Rebuilding efforts were going to need materials, wood, brick, steel, nails, more. The list seemed endless. The brickyards were mercifully untouched, but they didn't have enough stocked for an effort of this magnitude. The lumber would have to be imported. Another runner was dispatched, to Happy Fox Radio, with a request for a message to be played on the air.

Dockside and West End rebuilding efforts will require substantial amounts of cured lumber, steel, nails, and more. Any and all donations would be appreciated. Also, experienced construction workers are in very short supply. If you have experience in construction, carpentry, engineering, or related fields, please give some of your time. Report to Kacilla Lynne, Dockside during daylight hours, or at the Red Dragon Inn after dark.

It was all she could do, for now. One last look around Dockside, and she trudged wearily towards the Inn.

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-22 20:48 EST
Dockside September 22nd 6:30 PM



He had spotted Kalis and Kacey through out the long day once, he returned from a brief rest at the Inn. Once back he got right back to work. As the day wore into the night, he heard the shouting of some of the men. A sigh passed his lips, before stopping what he was doing to try and sort out the problem. It was at that time he got the note from Kacey.



A light nod to himself, before turnning to head back to the Inn after reading it. What she said had a point about them needing to meet and work together. Hopefully she'd listen back to him as well.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2007-09-22 21:22 EST
Red Dragon Inn, Room 18 September 22 7 p.m.

It was happening again. A war was ranging outside, in a city he loved, and he was powerless to do anything about it. A nightmare that had quickly become all too real, and that was all too familiar. Glenn hadn't left the inn since the invasion began on Tuesday, and he'd barely even been out of his room. He had the inn's staff deliver his meals and beverages to his room, but he barely picked at the food before sending it back, locking the door behind them immediately after they'd left. And I'd been doing so well about getting back all that weight I'd lost when I was working in the West End, he thought to himself with a bitter laugh. He had seen himself in the mirror, once or twice, in the past couple of days, and it wasn't a pretty sight. The bags under his eyes had returned. The cheeks were more sunken and hollow than usual. Every facial expression he saw in the mirror was a scowl or worse. Fear. Panic. Despair.

Glenn had run out of things to do. Nothing left to read but old news, books he'd already finished, and books he couldn't even read. He'd already designed and redesigned his business card a thousand times, and he hadn't come up with any new furniture designs to work on. He'd managed to write a couple of letters home, but he couldn't bear to go to the post office and have them delivered. So all he could do now was think about everything that could have gone wrong, everyone that could have been killed. History was repeating itself, and all Glenn could do was curl up in a ball on his bed, and rock back and forth, trying to gin up some courage.

A faint knocking on his door jarred him, almost causing him to roll off his bed. He caught himself quickly, then hesitantly called out to the person behind the door. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Jarvis."

"I don't know a Jarvis. Where's Yaromir?" "He's, uh, at the clinic. Some zombie the guards overlooked got him outside the Inn yesterday. Got the vaccine just in time.

"Oh." Glenn paused, quickly considering this new information. "There's a vaccine?"

"Yeah. Some crazy witch or something whipped one up. Do you want your dinner or not, sir?"

"Yes. Please." Glenn walked over to the door, unlocked and opened it, a hammer in his other hand. He quickly lowered his arm when he saw who it was. The lad standing outside couldn't have been older than 18, and with his short stature (shorter than Glenn even!), bright red hair, freckled face, and loose fitting white kitchen smock, looked even younger. The worker handed the tray to Glenn, waited for him to put it down, then handed a mug of ale over. He favored the carpenter with a look that was equal parts comforting and condescending.

"You know, it's safe to come out now. They haven't seen any zombies on the streets all day." "They haven't?"

"No. Do you think I would have come in to replace Jarvis if they had been out' Didn't you wonder why the same person served you every day?" Glenn shook his head. "The Inn's been on lockdown, for gods' sakes! But it's not anymore. You can go out now." The next words were muttered under his breath. "And eat dinner with the rest of the customers." "I'll keep that in mind," Glenn said, even as he began to shut the door. "Thank you.? He ignored Jarvis' frantic mutterings about a tip as the door boomed shut, and the lock clicked into place.

He glanced over at the food quickly. A turkey sandwich, some pretzels from the bar, and cornbread. His stomach growled, but he did not eat. Instead, he reached for the mug, drinking it as fast as he could. He was going to need some liquid courage to go out tonight. But he would go out. After all, his hair was getting a bit long, and he needed a hair cut. And some business cards. And newpapers to read...

HGLowe

Date: 2007-09-22 21:27 EST
The Eastern Point Lighthouse September 22nd 9:17PM

Harold was still half out of his skull. Just getting up the steps to the deck had taken several stops; he found himself, too often, sitting against the inside wall with his head resting a few steps up from where he sat. But eventually he made it up top and dropped.

At least up there, he didn't half-dream terrors. Just lay there feeling cold, sick and timeless. Time stopped having any real meaning; it just sort of lay there with him, buried in every blanket that had once belonged to the Maritime.

Sometimes he thought he was there. Maybe sometimes he was.

Finally, after dark, he managed to drink some water and then force himself to his feet. He was shaking fairly bad, but even though it took quite a long time, he managed to reset his lighthouse. By now, at least the dockside and maybe even the city was safe.

The light went from blood red to white. And with the switch, and the flash sequence being reset to it's seven and a half second rotation, he felt a certain sense of relief, even as he crawled back into his nest.

It spoke to the sea:

"All is coming to rights, come ashore.

"Come back home."

Some part of him went to his own home with it, even if only in his mind, chasing the wind.

Spirited Corsair

Date: 2007-09-23 00:53 EST
Dockside, and Beyond 22 September Morning, Afternoon, and Night

True to form, Maia had worked late into the night previous, slept only enough to refuel, and stayed on her feet all day long. Though the plague was quite under control, this had been a very eventful day for the Captain of the Al Na'ir. Bertie and Ralmo Hausenfelter were delighted and overwhelmed by the presence of the team of chefs from the Obsidian Halls. The loan of them would give them the time to travel back to the bakery and pick up many more of their supplies to better serve Dockside during the rebuilding effort. The city's best bakers felt that feeding the troops was the very least that they could do.

Quite aware that safety was still a tenuous proposition, Maia personally escorted her landlord and landlady back to the Marketplace to fetch the tools of their well-honed trade. With her, she brought along a couple of the younger, eager volunteers who were not necessarily suited to start using a hammer or work salvage at Dockside. They had strong arms and strong backs, though, and that was all that was needed to bring back whatever the bakers wanted.

Standing across the street from Daily Bread was quite like stepping through the looking glass. Everything looked wrong and right all at once. Nothing made sense. Like Dockside, like the West End, the Marketplace was every bit as much a checkerboard of destruction. Some buildings were perfectly intact, pristine, even. Others were looted. Others were burned to almost nothing.

The colorful sign was still cheerful, hardly touched, though the glass of the broad front windows was broken, charred, melted. The building had its basic structural integrity, but the storefront had been gutted by the fire. It must have been one of the final casualties as the well-meaning had driven the last of the zombies to eternal rest. Inside, a checkerboard. A cabinet of flatware had survived unscathed. A chair here. A table there. The rest was simply gone.

Maia spoke quietly to the lads, and they did not need to be told twice.

"Go back to Dockside. Report to Lynne. We are done here."

She turned her pale gaze on the elder couple, transfixed at the sight before her. Bertie Hausenfelter had taken that wiry, tough old man in her arms, and she whispered gently in his ear as his body shook, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Ralmo hadn't the strength for what he saw, but his sweet wife did. She held him up.

"Bertie, I'll give you a few."

The woman only nodded, the usually cheerful lines of her face turned into sad trails for tears that would likely spill later, when her husband was through. Maia found that the back stairs were still structurally sound, and she carefully moved up them to see the condition of the flats above. She took a deep breath, braving the sickening smell of ash, and moved into what served as her home. The front room suffered some smoke damage, and things would certainly have to be replaced. A few spots in the floor felt unsteady beneath her feet, so she proceeded with extreme caution, and dread, to her bedroom.

Here, the flames had indeed come up through much of the floor, devoured what they may. Her favorite coat was ash. Only soggy, sooty bits remained of that colored quilt. The treasures on the wall were either burned or soaked through?at least someone had doused the flames before the building was taken.

The elder couple had lost their shop, but their home, a few blocks over, remained intact. Thank god for all small favors. Maia walked them there, and the three of them were quiet. The kind landlord and landlady offered her a bed in their guest room, but she knew she could no sooner accept that than she could stay at the Red Dragon Inn. She just needed a little more privacy than either afforded, and there was too much work yet to be done.

Work was her salvation. It was only early afternoon when she returned to Dockside and threw herself heavily into the tasks at hand. Maia did not stop for anything save a drink here, a snack there. The day was spent training those who would keep Dockside secure. She wanted them to have their independence. She did not want to be needed, there. She longed too fervently for the sea.

It was not until the sun was setting that it occurred to her that she had not seen Harold Lowe once all day. Maia set the patrol schedule for the night, leaving Hayes at the helm, and walked the yard. He was nowhere to be found, and it seemed that Grey had been the last to catch a glimpse of him, earlier that morning.

When she turned her eyes to the east, she saw that the signal lights in the distance had changed, and that the quarantine had been lifted. Maia thought, then, that it was likely a good place to find her friend. She knew enough to know that she would need a friend, that night. Only gently armed, Maia left Dockside and headed up the coast.

Theirs was a world in disarray. She tried not to let thoughts of her flat sink in too heavily. It was too typical of fate, and far too vexing an outcome. At least she was not the only one. Lots were being leveled all over the city, and many, many people would be getting a fresh start.

Despite the cursed birth of it, a fresh start might just be the thing, for all of them.

Icer1978

Date: 2007-09-23 12:34 EST
West End September23 Daybreak

The dragoness had managed to get some sleep, and now wings carried her back to her post in West End, a nod to Singer, and a few others that were becoming more and more familiar as days went by.

I was given word that Kalis is sending a floating fortress to clean up debres, it is not an attack, so I don't want anyone worrying about the fortress, just focus on whats left, and hopefully we'll find a few more survivors.

Already she spotted the pumkinhead about, and she couldn't help but smile, everyone was helping in their own way.

Moving off again, she resumed toppling unsafe structures, making sure everyone was clear first, when her nostrils picked up a coppery smell.., blood, digging through the remnants, she came across the body of a young man, the corpse had been in the building for a few days, and pausing a moment in silence, to pay respect to another fallen, soon his body was added to the pile of those found the night before.

Kalis-nar

Date: 2007-09-23 14:33 EST
As promised the massive Sky Fortresses, two of them, arrived over Rhy'din City, each one appearing as some great five-towered fortress was carved out of some inverted mountain of black rock, with protrussions of black-purple crystal and four, what looked to be bone-white ribs came over Rhy'din, proceeding by a low humming sound, that could be heard all over the city, took their places. One over the West End, and one over the Dockside, each looming above the clean up waste dump points, within moments, the waste from each dump was sucked straight into one of the massive maws located with the bottom of each mountain platform.

Kalis went to help out in the Docks, his workers and cooks opened up ther relief tents, more food, water, supplies, and medical aid suplie where brought to the Docks last night, plus another 30 relief workers, doctors, cooks and nurses, was well as some of Kalis's templars, trained in grief consuling came to offer their services to those who needed or wanted it.

Yaxlir Aru'Thos

Date: 2007-09-23 14:45 EST
Yaxlir saw the Sky Fortress and smiled, Father kept his promise, and the young Prince was happy that his Father, Kalis-Nar, Ruler of Athas, was indeed helping out. Yaxlir had seen to the opening of the relief tents, and had brought back two more inixes packed with supplies, plus 10 Templars came with Yaxlir, to act as grief consulars to those who needed help dealing with the pain of it all, from those who lost loved ones, to those who worked to help clean up and rebuild. Yaxlir himself did what he could, by handing out teddy bears to small children, or offering a fellow worker a smile or word of encouragement. Then the young Prince went to his work of clean up, with a renewed strength and purpose, humming an old Athasian work chant. In time the others who were from Athas, working on cleanup, began the same chant, working in rhythem as they began to sang the strange song, the words unknown, but it had strength and purpose in it. It seemed as those of Athas who sang it, became a bit more focused and disciplined in their work.

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-23 18:21 EST
Dockside September 23rd Daybreak, Afternoon, and Night



Once he arrived back in Dockside, and gathered the men for another day of working. He would find out what each person was best at. Once each postion was filled with, he'd spilt the groups up...placing one person in charge, with them corridnating efforts with Kacey and himself. He then glanced up to see that fortress that Kalis said would be comming.



He would then take the time to let the groups know it was there to help remove debries, once it was in the desinated area. " Alright men..You kow your jobs and orders..I want the marked houses taken care of first. Once those are demolished and cleared out. Start working on the warehouses. If you can..do try and reuse anything you deem good. Get to work, men! And remember...Do it right the first time, no fighting, and wear your masks. " A sigh once the groups headed off.



While the men worked, he'd watch over things, while helping out when he could, but stayed away from the dusty areas. He knew Kacey wanted to help out, and let her...as long as she kept away from the more dusty work areas.



It was noon, before the demoliton was done. " Alright men..Take a break and get something to eat. " Once they started to head off to the cooks that were there for food, a wave was offered to Kacey, as he turned to head in the direction of the warehouses that Harry told them about.



Once there, he waitted for Kacey to show up as she knew a touch more on this mater than he did. Once she met him there, he'd offer her a nod, before looking back to the lumber. " Well..How much of this can we use? "

Kacilla Lynne

Date: 2007-09-23 20:02 EST
Dockside September 23rd Daybreak, Afternoon, and Night

The morning had been infuriating, in a way. She knew Lang was helping her by keeping her away from the worst of the dusty demolition work, but it would have been very satisfying to break things. As it was, Kacey had watched him taking control of the workers, organizing them as if he'd had spent time commanding a military force. Those were skills she recognized, even if he denied his abilities.

She'd tried to haul rubble from the sites for a while, but the exertion had her doubling over in coughing fits in rapid order. It hadn't taken many of those before Lang had banned her from that, as well. They split for lunch " Lang headed directly for the warehouse, but Kacey had to stop at one of the meal tents and get something hot to drink. She grabbed a sandwich for him, as well, since she had a feeling he would forget to eat until someone put the food in front of him.

The warehouse was filled with timber, mostly pine and oak, common woods for shipbuilding. She handed over the sandwich as he asked the question, "Well....How much of this can we use?" and headed past him into the space, racks holding the different thicknesses and cuts in neat piles.

Wood was silky-smooth under her palm, or rough-cut and edged with splinters. There were thick oaks, cured and ready for use, perfect for framing. Strips of cedar and pine that would do for exterior walls. Enough for three large warehouses, though not much more. She was talking more to herself than him as she answered. "We can use all of it' we will use all of it. Three warehouses, some flooring, maybe one small house, if we're careful in our cuts. Two days, with the teams we have."

She turned back to him with a quick flash of the smile that erased the signs of weariness from her face. "It's a start. It's a good start. Now we just need to move all this from here to there."

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-23 20:32 EST
Dockside September 23rd Afternoon to Night

He knew he'd catch it later from Kacey about keeping her from helping out to much. A nod in thanks for the sandwich, before leaning on the doorframe of the warehouse as he listened to her. He was slowly eatting the sandwich, as she talked. Once he finished, and wipped his mouth, a light nod was given to her. " Alright..be back in a few minutes. "

He leaned off the doorframe before turnning to head back to the area of Dockside, where the men were at. Once he got enough men, with wheelbarrows to help haul the wood, he;d lead them back to that warehouse.

" Alright..let's get this to our worksite. " A smile to the men, before turnning to help them move the wood. This time he wouldn't stop Kacey from helping out. He knew she wasn't to thrilled with just standing around, so..he'd say nothing on this.

It was a slow process, of moving the wood back up to the places it needed to be. Once they moved the wood, Lang would turn it over to Kacey as she had more experience on this sort of work. " Alright Kacey...Your show from here. " A grin to her.

Kacilla Lynne

Date: 2007-09-24 05:32 EST
Dockside September 23rd 8:22PM

"Alright Kacey...Your show from here." The words were a balm, finally something she could do, easily. She might not be able to motivate people as well as he could, but this was something she knew. She smiled as she moved confidently into the groups on the three lots they had picked out for the warehouses.

Those three lots had been chosen specifically because while they were ruined from the ground up, their foundations were sound. With as many people as they had working, once she showed them how to make mortise and tenon joins the frames went up fairly quickly.

By the time the sun set, the frames for three warehouses stood outlined against the sky, skeletons of buildings. Most of the wood suitable for framing was gone ? not enough left for even a small house, after all. The lumber for the exteriors and the cedar shingles for the roofs were stacked next to the warehouses, ready to go up in the morning.

Unless they got more cured lumber soon, there would be a delay in the rebuilding. A few masons and bricklayers had turned up, and there were enough bricks for a few houses to be rebuilt, but that was only a bare fraction of what was needed. They would use green wood if they had to, but Kacey was keeping her fingers crossed, hoping for the lighthouse to beckon in traders with rebuilding supplies. Long shot, but there wasn't much left to gamble on but that.

Lang and Kacey watched their workers disperse into the night before they turned and trudged, unspoken agreement, back across the river to the Red Dragon. It would be a long day tomorrow, and it would begin early.

Icer1978

Date: 2007-09-24 12:02 EST
West End September 24 7 A.M.

The dragoness returned to the city that morning, after few hours of sleep, though this time, she was carrying supplies for the workers and homeless.

Three baskets ladden with assorted fruits, vegetables and meats, that had been donated, along with a pile of blankets laden upon her back.

Circling overhead, once, she kept watch, before landing beside Singer, giving the man a nod, I've seen no more on my way back and forth, but a friend donated a few things.

Already a few people were hesitantly moving toward her, though at the sight of the supplies, they almost seemed to push their fears back, and with the help of a few, the dragon started passing out blankets and food.

The needy came first, then the workers, when Collin looked up at her, aren't you eatting?, the young man holding out an apple to the dragoness.

Blink, she'd not eatten in awhile, but she smiled, shaking her head, you might need it more than I do, I'll find something on the way back later.

Collin nodded, and looked to the fruit, tucking it safely into a large pocket, before helping to distribute the other food.

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-24 17:47 EST
Dockside September 24th Daybreak



It was going to be a long day, he just knew it when he arrived back on the site. He paused a moment to look around, as he had slipped out a touch earlier, letting Kacey sleep in. He was just here to survey what had been finished, as well as everything they had done. It had taken almost a week in it's self to just get started on the rebuilding, after the previous week was spent fighting and cleaning up.



A tired sigh passed his lips. " It took may live to push this past threat behind us...Maybe this is just what this town needed for most to stop the whinning about others...We shall see. " Said to himself, as he stood there alone. After a moment longer, he turned to see if he could find someone that had or could get them the lumber they needed.

It looked to be a hopeless task at the moment, as if what Kacey told him last night was true...This was going to take much longer than they had thought. He did know one person, but would only call on him as a last resort. So for now, he'd head off to patrol the Dockside, then off to find the needed cured lumber.

Kacilla Lynne

Date: 2007-09-24 22:38 EST
Dockside September 24th 4:37PM

Sleep was a reprieve, and that she had slept without nightmares " the first time since the attacks began " was a miracle. Kacey had slept too long in the morning, almost until 10:00AM. She blamed her pounding head on too much sleep, and shrugged it off. Lang had probably headed over to the site hours before. Kacey pulled on her work clothes hastily and followed.

Pounding hammers on the worksite were a throbbing echo to the steadily growing pain in her head. The coughs that interrupted her work were no longer so dry or hacking, and she paused occasionally to spit out dark, sooty phlegm, trying to clear her lungs. She wasn't the only worker coughing, either, though the headache and the growing liquid sounds of her own symptoms were fortunately rare.

Too much smoke had been in the air during the fights, too much dust and worse. The long-term effects of the attack were only now starting to become apparent. By late afternoon, Kacey was reeling, her hands shaking so much she couldn't even sink nails with her hammer. She vaguely remembered Lang appearing during the day, mentioning that he was looking for a source for lumber.

Protests, at that " she had, hadn't she" She was supposed to be organizing supplies, not letting him do all the work. It ran together, what she'd said, what she'd thought " here and now running into there and then without edges. Hammer fell to the ground with a clatter as she rubbed fretfully at her pounding head. She might have said something about where she was going as she left the worksite. Maybe? Her memories weren't clear enough to be trusted.

Erinalle Dunbridge

Date: 2007-09-25 11:37 EST
Friday Sept 21, 2007 7pm.

Erin arrived at the prison only half an hour after talking to Lydia. Having stopped at the bank, she was ready for anything, though irritated at the situation in general. She decided to lay low, stay at the cabin and lock the doors during the invasion. She didn't' get in any trouble! But no, Carley had to make everything into her own personal playground.

With a sigh, she stopped at the visitor's gate to the prison and after a short fight with the guard, was let in though it wasn't visiting hours. Another talk to another man, a flash of cleavage that really wasn't there, and she was being led into the prison to see her friend.

Nodding to a guard, Erin moved down the hall and to the cell at the end of it that was pointed out to her. She stopped before the one she was almost positive was Carley's and paused to watch the guard retreat. There was a clank behind her as the guard went behind his glass to watch. Erin shrugged and leaned on the bars, looking for Carley in her zoo-like cell.

"Okay, you trouble maker, you come on out and show your face." There was a bit of a smile in her words, i not on her ace.

Carley would have shot up from her bed if she had the energy. Instead" She mumbled a bit, slowly sitting up, hands and feet still bound, since none of the guards were brave enough to dare near her cell again to free her.

"Eri?" She sounded tired, but perked up when she spotted the little englishwoman, and sat up and started hopping that way.

"What the hell are you tied up for?" a bit of a scowl at the fact Carley had to hop, and then she shook her head a little. "You just keep topping yourself, huh' Y'okay?" Carley frowned a bit at Erin's question, then looked at her wrists.

"This is all that heifer's fault. I'm hungry. And thirsty." Carley gave her most pitiable look to Erin. Cheeks were even a little wet. "They woudn't feed me because they think I'm a zombie."

"They think you're a...well, geez, Carley, you're lucky to be alive." A shake of her head as she looks around at the other cells "Um, okay, so can I bail you out or do I have to prove you're not a zombie?" Carley's eyes widened in absolute glee and wonder.

"Yeah, bail me out!" She hopped a bit, once again, nearly toppling over. bars were gripped then, to keep herself standing. "They told Fire she could bail me out, but she wouldn't!" She huffed angrily. "And that heifer wouldnt' help me get out either, she told them I was a mean zombie and she's the reason I'm bound up when I get out of here, she's going to pay!!"

"Okay, okay....if I bail you out, you have to promise to stop this nonsense with Jewell. It's only getting people arrested and hurt, and we have bigger things to worry about." Another look up and down the corridor and Erin stuck her little hands through the bars to try and untie Carley at least. Bouncing a bit on the balls o her feet, Carley extended her hands out so Erin could untie her, just smiling, cause she was sooo happy to get out of this nasty, dirty place. Because she was getting nasty, and dirty and smelly, too....Carley didn't respond to Erin's demand and once Erin was done, she dropped the rope and stood there tapping her foot. With wide eyes, she stared at Carley, waiting for her response.

Carley rubbed her wrists, happy to get them out of that rope. She looked expectantly to Erin and then with a heavy sigh, Carley clasped her hands behind her back(and crossed her fingers in the process).

"Fine, I'm done with Fatty Faerie."

"Good. Do it again, and you're on your own." With a firm nod, Erin pulled her messenger bag in front of her to pull out a coin purse. "I'm going to have to dip into my savings for this. You owe me." A shake of her head as she snapped the purse closed again. Carley grinned oh-so-gleefully, smile entirely too wide for her face.

"Of course! Thank you so much, Eri! I really appreciate this! Thank you, thank you, tha-" She was cut off as she forgot the rope around her ankles and tried to take a step forward, forehead banging against the bars as she stumbled. "Ow!" Rubrub.

"Hold still!" Erin stooped down to put her hands through the bars and take care of that other bind. It was a little more tricky. "You're just lucky that I'm more of a pushover than Lydia, really." As she worked. Carley did as she was told, holding still as she leaned against the bars, letting Erin untie her ankles.

"I thought she was more of one than you, to be honest." That mumbled, but she grinned. "I really do appreciate this, Eri. It was really terrible here." Pause. "Can we go eat after this" I'm so hungry..." PItiful face, take two.

"Sure, sure." She let the rope fall and stood up, waving a hand dismissively. "I could use some fries or something anyway. Just try not to embarrass me? Enough people already stare at me cause of my incident." She clutches the change purse again, and moves back from the bars.

Carley grasped the bars, bright blue eyes following Erin as she moved away. She hadnt' showered for a week and reeks, so not embarrassing her might be hard, but, oh well! Fries sounded too divine to pass up, so she just nodnodnodded super agreeably, innocent smile on her face. You could practically see the halo over her head...or,, that was her hair being tangly and messy. Ew.

Erin took one more look over her shoulder, and shook her head. "Maybe we should get takeout to my place." With a nod. "yeah, that's what we'll do. Now hang on, I'll go take care of this."

"Okay!" Bouncing. "Thanks again, I'll pay you back as soon as I can! You're the best, Eri!"

"If you say so." And she disappears with a clank and go bargain with guards and such.

]

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-25 15:48 EST
Dockside September 25th Daybreak

With Icer's help last night. A supplier was found that would bring boths sites the cured wood they would need. Going on yet another night of no sleep, Lang returned to the site with help from the town guards that were patroling the area. They brought the blankets and baskest of food, that had been supplied by Icer's sister..Winter. She was also the one that would help out with the cured wood.

He glanced around a moment, before moving to the Alley Cat Club, and left a note for Shey thanking her for letting the families that lost their homes, for giving them a place to stay. Once that was done..he met with the group leaders.

" Once the lumber gets here, place it in the warehaouse first. Second, I got the plans for Dockside..It shows where the houses were, as well shows how each house was made...All of you go over it. I know you are used to me being here, but you know more about building homes than I do. " Said softly, as he looked to each leader. He knew he was asked to take charge on this, but really...The men didn't need someone watching over them any more.

" Remember...help each other out and one last thing. This is your home..stop the petty fighting...Put old grudges to rest..and rebuild your home. " He smiled lightly, before he handed over the folders and plans he got before comming here. One last look around, before he turned to head off, with a nod to the men. He was leaving the rebuilding in the hands of the people that lived there. Hopefully no one would hold it against him for not being there.

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-26 17:29 EST
WestEnd and Dockside September 26th 12:00 PM.

It could finally start for both sites, as the cured lumber was finally delivered. A note had been sent with the drivers, by one Lang Darkwing that would be handed out to the leaders of each rebuilding crew.

" You are to unload the lumber as soon as possible, place it in there proper places and get to work. For the workers in the WestEnd..The drivers have the folders you need to start the rebuilding process. I already know Icer in is charge there, but take your time..and follw the plans offered. "



As for the crew in the Dockside..They already had their orders when it came to the lumber, but he still sent a note to them as well.

" Alright boys...Here's the lumber that I promised to have delivered. It's up to you now. I know we have worked hard each day, side by side thus far..but you don't need me to tell you what to do anymore. Rebuild your town..and remember..work together from now on to make this town better. "

As for Lang? He was leaving the rebuilding to the people that lived in their respected areas. They had the orders, and blueprints to beable to build their homes again...as well as a business card he found for furniture...The process of rebuild their lives could finally take the next step.

Lang Darkwing

Date: 2007-09-28 18:35 EST
Dockside September 28th Midday



Lang was back in Dockside, with nods to the workers as he passed by them. They really had come together, as it was starting to return to some sense of looking the way it was before the attacks. Without asking, one of the leaders he left in place, jogged up to him.

" Well...as you can see..We are starting to get up the houses now..It's been a slow process, as we are taking it slow...and making the houses stronger...and a bit better protected. " The male smiled, getting Lang to nod back to him. He then sighed a moment, before looking back to the male.

" You don't have to report to me, but thank you for informing me of things. It's good to see everyone here, working together as well as using their heads...Keep up the good work. " Lang clapped the man on his shoulder, before moving over to help with the building again.

At the moment, each group that had finished what they were told to do..Were now helping out the others...It made everything move a touch faster, but at the same time..it was still a slow process. There were a few frames of house up again, dotting the skyline. He even heard from some of the workers there, that the men trained by Maia were helping out.

He'd need to thank her for trainning such good men..but for now..He was back as a helping hand..not their leader. So for now, he'd take the orders again...just how it should be in his mind.

Kacilla Lynne

Date: 2007-09-29 13:08 EST
Dockside September 29th 1:06PM

The house she was working on was only one of far too many. Her team was mostly untrained, but they were enthusiastic " it was their family home. Kacey knew how to rebuild it, and so they listened to her and did what she said without question. Not all of the teams were working so well together, but there was progress even at the most fractious site.

Building frames were black skeletons against blue sky, outlines of the rebuilt Dockside that was slowly emerging. Donations had come from all over the city, from outlying farms " from other worlds even, judging by some of the woods that Kacey saw in use. In a way the disaster in Dockside and West End had tied the city together. The barren frames were sketching in a unity that had been falling to pieces.

Dans was coordinating an area two blocks square " the survivors from those houses had talked things over and were making extensive improvements to the houses, leaving one of the leveled lots for a garden that they all could use. More than one group of families had gotten together for similar projects.

The companies that traded Dockside had been among the first to start rebuilding where necessary, and now most the warehouses were restored. Money had been spent with reckless abandon, it seemed like, but now normal trade was resuming. The money had been a wise investment.

Kacey continued working on her building, pausing occasionally to answer a question from one of the other groups, to send a runner to Dans. She was back to work that was satisfying at least, if not her passion. Each fall of a hammer, each join of a corner helped restore what was lost to the people Dockside, return what had been missing " hope. Kacey was framing a house. Together, they were framing a city.