hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dead Men Walking

Entry tags:

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!

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Oh, rest assured Rey would have plenty of LOVE, if her world worked in such a way.

"Have never really known much else. Don't see the point in wishful that things could be any different."

It's how she's always lived and how she's always died. Even her old selves that were more hopeful than the others eventually resigned themselves to loneliness. Far as Rey is concerned, that's all there is for her outside of Hadriel. It's a sad, terrible thought.

"Did I mention wishing anytime in there?" he says, one ridge arching upwards in the approximation of a raised eyebrow. "Nah. Thing is, you got more of a say in what you are than anybody's 'intentions.' You dig?"

Can't imagine she hasn't heard those words before. But it's somethin' that's just kinda...rote, he thinks, at this point. Gotta hold to that core of morality like the fucking hypocrite he is. Gotta at least make the effort. Even if he eschews effort at every opportunity.

Naturally, Sans has a point. Of fucking course he has a point, and he's hardly the first person to ever offer such pearls of common sense. Actually acknowledging that everything Rey had known throughout her many lives, however, is another story.

Despite actually considering the aforementioned point, Rey makes a rather unflattering snort, her eyes rolling.

"Nice. You get that one out of a fortune cookie? Liked them better when they just gave you 'lucky numbers'."

And you can bet your damned breeches that she completes that sentence with air quotes.

"What's a fortune cookie?"

There's about a fifty-fifty chance that he's joking and that he's being utterly, one-hundred-percent sincere. Alphys could probably tell him better, but he looks at Rey with a look of utter, genuine innocence - possibly too much to actually be innocent?

Who can tell?

"Well. Anyway. Don't make it any less true."

Seriously?

"A cookie, with a fortune inside of it. It's in the name."

Duh, Sans. Even if he is just yanking Rey's chain, there's no harm in humoring him a little.

She shrugs. "Whatever. You're entitled to your opinion," she echoes his earlier comment. "Let's just find your brother."

Uh-huh. He'd kinda been expecting a response like that, so he leaves the conversation where it is. Not likely to make any ground now, and he's a bit preoccupied by the fact that they've just rounded a corner to come face-to-face with a whole fresh mess of things.

"Ah," says Sans by way of warning, about-facing smoothy around in one fluid motion. "Nope. Not that way."

At this point it almost feels like they're on a fool's errand. Trying to track down a single person in this damned place is no easier than finding a black cat in a coal cellar.

Confusion's little gimmick is starting to sound more and more appealing now.

Sans' immediate reversal sparks curiosity as Rey checks around the corner anyway.

Definitely not that way.

She huffs and swings around as well, before pausing to hear the sounds of footsteps shuffling from deep within a nearby alley.

"If we are surrounded," Sans says with a sort of weary acceptance that this is just his lot in life, "that would be a really bad way to end the day. I'm just gonna put that out there."

And he kinda hates to say it but - well, if he can get them both outta here, he will. If he can't?

He, uh.

Well, he already knows he's a selfish ass. He'll save his own lack of skin before anyone else's. Rey's capable, she's competent. She can handle herself. He can't really afford to see if he can.

"No shit."

As their luck would have it, the culprits behind that mess around the corner emerge from the shadows. More shuffle towards the scene, drawn by the voices.

Drawing both kukris back out from her belt, Rey glances around to estimate between how many enemies there are and any possible openings for escape. The odds aren't looking too kindly, at least not without the risk of trapping themselves into a corner. Too many unknowns. But these things are stupid and predictable enough. Nothing like thinking, tactical soldiers trained for the fight. And Rey?

Rey herself is just the type of gun a soldier needs to handle big numbers.

Her eyes then dart down to Sans. "Think you can run this time?"

"I can get us outta here," he says, eyeing the weapons Rey draws that he can't put a name to with no small degree of wariness. "Maybe not, uh, conventionally, but I can."

He's gonna feel it like hell tomorrow but, uh, that's secondary. He can mentally kick himself later, when they're not being swarmed by the groaning mass of dead flesh that draws nearer and nearer. Because he's fairly sure that as shitty as overtaxing him and his magic ability feels, getting chomped on and dusted is gonna feel a whole lot worse.

He's kinda wondering if she's just gonna up and throw herself into the carnage.

He's kinda hopin' that her plan is a little more nuanced than that.

Unconventional tends to imply an ability of some type. Rey can't imagine Sans having an aptitude for super speed, so it has to be something else.

She glances from the kukri in her left hand to the herds emerging from the alleyways and surrounding streets. If there was any chance for an opening before, there sure as hell isn't one now. Hurling herself into the fray wouldn't be very tactical, as letting Sans out of her sight probably isn't the best idea either.

"Let's hold off on that for now."

The blades fall on either side of her, clattering over the ground when they land. Her fingers squeeze into fists. She turns, and starts to loop around the area they seem to be trapped within.

As she does this, a black trail seems to be following her. Dripping from her hands, the substance falls, forming a circle. Red veins pulse under her skin as the black fluid starts seeping from up to her elbows.

Whatever she's planning, she doesn't see it as something worthy of explanation.

Oooooooookay so this might as well be happening now. Sans starts edging back, giving her as wide a berth as possible as she prepares whatever it is she's preparing. Looks a lot like how a monster would ready a magical attack. A special attack, as it were.

Whatever it is, he's kinda hopin' it kicks in soon. The things are shuffling closer and closer and he kinda wants to ensure he's not gonna get caught in the crossfire in the meantime.

It occurs to him that, uh, he could just kinda...leave her to it. Chances are she'll be makin' quite a ruckus here. Good cover if he wanted to - nah. Nah, he likes to think he's got some standards after all.

And Papyrus wouldn't be able to stomach it. So, yeah. He doesn't move.

"Okie dokes," says Sans lightly. "Whenever you're ready, then."

What Rey is preparing for isn't magical by her world's standards. It also isn't something that can be done by a normal human or with the aid of modern science. She has never seen anyone or anything naturally produce this substance the same way her vessels have.

When she's finishes, she realizes that Sans is still here. Something in her mannerisms change with every passing second. A demeanor which she usually keeps buried under monotones and a robotic disposition.

"I was inspired," she says, devoid of the emotionless tone that she normally possesses. "There was this song that my brother really liked. He used to hum it, but I rarely ever heard the words. I know that it's an old song, though."

As she speaks, she finishes making the circle out of the black liquid secreting from her hand.

Stopping at the center, she cants her head at the approaching herd behind the black line. She squints. "How did those lyrics go...?"

Her eyes shut and she starts humming herself, remembering her brother's voice. The undead corpses touch the barrier.

"Mmmmmm, 'but the fire went wild.'"

With that, a wall erupts around them with a burst of flame. The wave of the heat sends the wrinkles of her clothes rippling and her hair flicking as the intense rise in temperature is immediate.

Eyes still shut, Rey waves a hand, allowing the flames to bend to her whim as she continues to sing in a hushed timbre: "I fell in to a burning ring of fire--" She flicks a wrist, as though conducting a symphony. Instead, the bodies walking through the wall of flames erupt upon crossing the border. Or perish trying to. Barely visible ripples in the air swing and throw them to the ground with an unseen force. "'I went down, down, down, and the flames went higher...'"

More bodies collapse to the street with the weight comparable to anvils falling on their backs. Left to burn furiously before they're even able to pass the wall.

"'And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire...'"

One by one and in droves, the flaming corpses collapse. Some while trying to pass the fiery barrier. Others explode with one final pulse of heat, throwing them back with a monstrous energy as what's left of their insides turn to hot mush. Including their brains, converted into soup in their skulls.

All the while the inner circle remains a perfect sanctuary from the oppressive heat. Sure, one may feel like they're being cooked inside a dutch oven, but at least they wouldn't be dead.

In a final flare eliminating the remaining numbers, Rey finally opens her eyes to witness the damage she's done. "'The ring of fire.'"

Um...holy shit.

The first thing he notes is the dramatic shift in just about everything - body language, tone, demeanor. The transition is palpable, and Sans watches with the faintest intrigue glittering in his eyesockets.

If she were doin' this back home, yeah, they'd more or less call it magic. She spins out somethin' blackish and oily with her hands, and then the walls are on fire. He don't have skin to worry about gettin' singed or burned or overheated, so he watches and waits patiently.

It's good, he thinks, real good, that not a one of these things are alive. Maybe they're sentient, but he hopes to god they're not. 'Cause nothin' deserves to die in droves like this.

"Neat trick," he says, once the inferno has begun to fade, leaving heaps of rotting, burning corpses, lacing the air with the reek of decaying flesh. "Glad those zombies weren't workin' for you."

Oddly enough, Rey has no memory of such a 'trick' being employed by any of her previous selves. Except for the only two who had enough time to apply some ingenuity to what their vessels are capable of. The two who had pushed the limits of their capabilities to become something more than like-human.

In her mind, she can almost hear an applause. A satisfied laughter that's been lingering in her consciousness for a long time. She wants to tell them to shut up, but opts to focus on the current task instead.

Directing the same energy that Rey had used to create the fire-ring, she brings out her hands. Heatwaves distort the air as the live flames seem to be driven by a gust of wind, floating in red and orange ribbons towards her outstretched arms.

With that, the flames extinguish; absorbed back into the source they were made from. The blackness coating Rey's hands have dried up, now more of a layer of paint than a thick, highly flammable substance. Annoying as it is, it's going to take some time to clean it all off.

"It's better than leaving them to walk so that they become someone else's problem," she finally replies, glancing to Sans over her shoulder.

She is almost surprised that he's still here,

Well, you can't set loose a little fireworks display like that and expect it not to hold his interest. Actually, no, you totally can, he just elected to remain since he decided his intrigue trumped his desire to get the hell outta the general vicinity. Also because he's still recuperatin' after his latest string of shortcuts, and he's a bit too tired to nip out just now. So he doesn't.

"Good point," says Sans, the lights in his eyesockets glittering. That might just be them catching the light of the lingering flames, however. It's hard to tell with him. "Guess it's a good thing none of these chumps were workin' for us, huh?"

He nudges some of the charred remains with a toe of his slipper, winking.

"'Cause they just got fired."

It's probably a good thing Rey had opted out of an escape using whatever method Sans had up his sleeve. He doesn't look too great, for one thing. Having no idea how his tricks work, she'd also rather stick with what she does know.

And that's killing. Killing is what she's best at.

Though, is it really killing if they're already dead...?

Rey doesn't get much time to ponder this when Sans cracks another terrible one-liner.

"Nice," she mutters, squinting with furrowed brows. "Good to know that didn't burn out your sense of humor with everything else."

She kicks at a charred zombie corpse.

"Buddy, my sense of humor doesn't even go when I'm dead." Just ask the kid! Heh heh, but don't, actually - it's a sticky topic for the both of them, and he don't wanna make things more awkward than they already are between him and Chara.

His smile is unchanging as ever as he surveys the veritable field of twice-dead corpses. Wonders idly if their kickin' it means a hypothetical increase of LOVE. Personally, he hopes not. Though the kid's LOVE has stayed pretty stable since they got here, he knows it's only that way 'cause they've more or less hit the roof as far as that limit goes.

"But, uh, yeah. Really saved my skin. Thanks."

Har har. Get it? "Skin"?

Oh, she gets it.

"Right. Well, hope that saves you the energy of doing whatever it is you could do to get us out."

Although Rey can't tell if it would have affected him in that way, judging by Sans' current condition she wouldn't be surprised if it had ill effects.

Once she's confirmed that the dead are still dead, she retreats a few steps and casts a look to the skeleton man. "Anyway, should probably stay mobile before more show up. If you have any idea on which direction you should go."

"I gotta system." He winks in her direction, merrily, as if he hadn't just watched her casually incinerate a mass of putrefying flesh with arcing flame of her own design. "Don't worry about this old bag of bones. I think that little kerfuffle'll keep 'em at bay for a bit."

Ordinarily this would be the part where he springs for a sight gag, walkin' the exact wrong way before switchin' course and doin' a perfect one-eighty to do so a minute later. But right now, he don't think he has it in him to pull that off. So he doesn't.

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Event Log: Dead Men Walking

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