hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dead Men Walking

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Dead Men Walking event!
Where: All around the city
When: September 14th-September 20th
Warnings: Zombies. Walkers. The Infected. Zeds. The undead. Risen.

Everything seems more or less normal in Hadriel on the 14th - at least at first. But wait, who's that over there? Why are they walking so weird? Are they feeling okay? Wow, did they just try to bite you? Oh shit, you might've seen a movie like this before. That was definitely a zombie.

But hey, it's no big deal. A few zombies here and there are pretty easy to avoid, especially when you can outrun them without too much trouble. They're only really dangerous if they're fast or if there are a lot of them, and they sure aren't fast! Only - well, before long, there are a lot of them. You can hardly go outside without running into one, and mobs form quickly. Went out for supplies? Let's hope they didn't follow you - you might get stuck in that shop, mobile corpses pounding on the door. Oh, and don't stand too close to the windows of your house. They'll be more than happy to smash the glass trying to get you.

Don't worry, though! A hard blow to the head will take these zombies out, and you'll be sitting pretty, as long as none of them bite you. None of them bit you... right? Wow, what a relief. We're all glad you're not concealing a life-threatening zombie bite from your friends! Who would do that, anyway? Now if you can manage that until the 20th, you'll be safe and sound as the zombies shamble out of the city. Hopefully you won't be shambling with them.

► This log covers September 14th-September 20th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you join the zombie party, please let us know here!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Not many seem to," he agrees, though his tone is utterly neutral as he says it. "Kind of a businesslike fella, ain't he?"

He'd certainly been brusque when Sans had made the apparent error of posing a question, and he could've theoretically gotten his moral outrage all over everything, but he'd also been a little busy evading things trying to munch on him.

Miriam nods slowly. "Some of them are okay, though. Or as okay they can get. Least Fear doesn't pretend he's good."

Aside from Delight, Miriam likes him best.

"He's crap at scary stories," Sans says conversationally, laughing. "Wouldn't've pegged it. Still, I'd put my phalanx on this bein' his doing."

He gestures in the direction of the ostensible chaos happening just outside, the moans that occasionally spiral in from the streets.

"Yeah, that was kinda weird. How's he bad at stories if he's good at the rest of the creepy shit?"

That doesn't make much sense to Miriam. She sighs. "Man, I hate zombies. At least these one are slow."

"You got experience with this kinda thing?" In space? Yowza. "'Cause I'll tell ya, this is kinda a new experience all around for me. And not one that's goin' on my Top Ten list, either."

He hadn't immersed himself in human pop culture as readily as Alphys or Mettaton ever did, not unless it was somethin' that really drew his interest. Books, mostly, even though there was that one sucker who dropped The Trial in such a way that it landed in the puddled water underfoot, soaking the pages through. He'd managed to dry most of it out, but the last couple pages were rendered unreadable, text bleedin' over so the letters were little more than inky smears.

Ah, well. He feels like the resolution would be pretty sad to read anyway.

"Kinda. I mean, they're different but not that different." These ones are definitely dead, for one thing. The ones back home were only probably dead. But that's not something Miriam likes thinking about. "Yeah. This place is a whole mixed of weird and fucked up."

"Only winnin' move is not to play," he says with a quirk of a supraorbital ridge. "Except even that ain't permanent. So, uh, yeah, I'd say it's pretty all-around fucked up."

Miriam huffs. "I know! People wanna fuck with each other, fine. Go do that on your own time! But no. Now I got bad dreams and monsters chasing me around."

"Hey, monsters aren't all bad." He makes a sweeping up-and-down gesture to indicate the whole of himself, well and truly the only monster here that he knows aside from his brother. The other things can - well, they can be "creatures" or "not-monters" or whatever else people wanna call 'em.

"Not like you." Though that does pose a question. Miriam considers him. "Whatda you call bad things in your world, anyway?"

He considers the question for a moment. He could say humans, but even that ain't really fair, even if his experience with humans is, uh, not really the most flattering thing out there.

"Nothing," he says at last. "I mean, we got bad things individually. But we call 'em by name. If there's a bad monster, that's a bad monster. If there's a bad human, it's a bad human. Ain't indicative of the whole hog."

"I guess that makes sense," Miriam allows, though she sounds dubious. "What if you don't know their names, though? I mean, back home, I don't know who the Sons are. I know what they are and what they'll do if I'm not smart, but I don't know their names. Don't even know who their boss is."

"You don't need names to know when a thing is dangerous," he says with the tone that implies everything he is saying is utterly reasonable.

"You call 'em the Sons, yeah?" Whatever those are. "Ain't that kind of a name?"

"But you gotta call them something, right?"

Miriam shakes her head. "The Sons of Plunder. But that's what they call the group, not--themselves. Even their boss doesn't have a name, they just call her the Commander. But it'd be weird if they just had a commander in charge, right? Why not like, a general or something?"

"Titles always seem to attract that kinda thing," he says with a careless shrug. "Why's there gotta be a hierarchy in the first place? Why're they Sons? Who're the parents? Do you think Plunder much cares if a bunch of humans are goin' about assignin' themselves a presumptuous name like that?"

He spreads his arms wide. "I got an awful lotta questions here. All things considered, names aren't even very high on the list."

Miriam thinks about it for a moment. "I guess. I dunno. Names always seemed important to me."

"Seem important to a lotta people, it seems like." He surveys her with sockets at half-mast. "Kind of a hierarchy of 'em, isn't there? You got your titles, your more familiar names."

He doesn't have to be much more than "the skeleton," after all. Here or at home.

"Maybe." She's quiet for a moment. "It's just, it's all I've got from my parents, you know? They named me. They're probably dead, but at least I've got this. So it matters."

Sans nods with a short dip of his skull, sitting back in his seat.

"Fair enough." He won't push the point. He doesn't have it in him. Really, he's just gonna have to sit back and take a nap or twelve in the next hour or so. "Anyway. I think I'm a little overdue to catch some Z's."

Miriam nods. This is heavy talk. Maybe it's better to sleep than play cards. "It's probably safe here, for a while."

"That's the hope, I'd imagine," he says with only the faintest shred of irony. He simply kicks up his slippered feet onto the table and leans back in his chair with his hands linked behind his skull.

He, uh, doesn't really mention taking shifts or anything like that. Just kinda goes for it and starts to snooze.

Event Log: Dead Men Walking

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