Tales of Redemption

The adventures in the stairwell

where do these stairs go? ....They go up!

Johnathan “Trigger” Reily
The smell of fresh sea salt on eggs is a scent I miss, or at least i think i mess…..I smelled it once, or at least that’s what the innkeeper called it. I dream of having it for breakfast sometimes. This was not one of those nights however. Instead it was nightmares, again, or still. Breakfast consisted of doing my best to drown out the sounds of others voices by eating toasted squirrel with a side of fried yams made to look like home-fries, drowned in a brown sauce that was anything but identifiable. better not to know i suppose. Wash that down with a cup of black gold that was so horrible, the cup rusted through. Id almost rather be back in the nightmare, at least I could get a decent whiskey there. But there i go again, writing about the things nobody cares about…..really can we get some decent coffee at least though….

Anyway, the Ginger (the robot) is doing good, subsystems are at 78% and the framework seems stable. Weapon mounts are intact and structurally sound, and the electrical system is functional, could use a rebuild, but it should hold for a few months till i can get some new wiring and harnesses. Just wish i had some thrusters for it……..ooooh, idea!!!!!

The group decided this was the day to check the hospital. The hope was supplies could be attained there, this as all things was not the case, and as it were, a rather dull place was found. Now I’m not one for the supernatural, and the semi-transparent infantrymen in colonial garb standing outside the hospital should have been the first sign that this was not going to be a fruitful endeavor, but i was optimistic, my bad. After firing a volley from ginger that would have made a rabid wombat run in fear the semi-transparent soldiers dispersed. Sign number two should have been at this point, they didn’t fight back. but again, I was a bit giddy shooting things, so I did overlook this, again, my bad.

I entered on the second floor via exiting ginger (yes, she’s got a rust color…and the carpet matches the drapes). Hastings in hopping pursuit entered with me. The second floor was a mess, to be expected, it was a burnt out hospital. But this was nothing but junk. Junk! Everywhere! even in the old elevator shafts, floor to ceiling. we made our way to the stairwell, Hastings and I, and found there was a relatively new sign posting the safety and security of…..blah blah bah. I hate signs, especially ones written in several languages, that say “don’t enter”.

Hastings caught wind of a voice in the lower level that was not one of our own. Sounded foreign, but human. No gunfire, yet, must not be a major threat. Time to move up. Hastings on the other hand decided that down was a better direction.

3rd floor:
The room was in shambles, but there was activity, ghosts nurses and humans being treated. What kind of sick hell was this? This place was anything BUT a hospital, and even the bandages looked incorporeal (bet you didn’t think i knew that word). Something wrong was going on here, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. The patients seemed to be in good care, but why? Why would ghosts be helping people on this island? unless something foul was going on……. time to examine further….next floor.

4th floor:
This floor had a restricted access sign (my favorite) and was by appointment only. Guess I forgot about the appointment ginger made me last week, huh. Guess I should knock. The door opened, and what looked like what can only be described as the grim reaper, on a binge eating ritual, that continued for the last decade. He was huge, about 500lbs, maybe, with a hood and cloak and some kind of armor underneath, looked to be adorned with bones. After his basic boilerplate lip service: “go away”, “leave”, “by appointment only”, “begone”, “you don’t have an appointment with me” yadda yadda, he proceeded to go down the stairs…..leaving me unattended…at the top of the stairs…and the door was still partially open. And since I’m not one for looking a gift horse in the mouth (what the hell does that mean anyway!!) I went in. Let’s get this in perspective for anyone out there who actually gets this far into my journals. Ive seen plenty in my travels, birds picking through remains of beasts that smelled worse then they looked, body parts hanging from trees, and the occasional giant blood soaked ferret looking for food (they are kind of cure though). But nothing quite prepared me for this room. There were things….in cages….shuffling around. I could not identify them, but either they were suffering and needed to be put out of their misery or they were vile beasts and needed to be put out of their misery. Body parts hanging from hooks and chains, bloody rags in the corners of the visible room, and a stench of bloated, rotting, blood soaked wood. I had the tool for this job. Incendiary grenades are a wonderful thing, just saying.

Tossing one into the heaviest area of potential fire I proceeded to the next floor, or should I say floors…… as this being our typical exercise in futility, there was nothing to be found on any of the floors. except some junk and slow ass zombies. Oh didn’t I mention zombies? well as it turns out, they aren’t really affected by fire. I hate the supernatural, so many things to remember when fighting them. Fortunately for me, these fools were slower than passing a 20lb gall stone in winter. This hospital was indeed empty of viable supplies, and I can say this with certainty since I was the only one who actually searched the building. The rest of the crew decided that (with some minor prodding from myself) that the big guy that passed me on the stairs, needed an attitude adjustment. Hope they don’t get that doctor killed, he could be of use later.

So there I was, 7th floor, zombie infested penthouse, listening to gunfire on the 3rd floor, and having set the 4th floor on fire. Whats a guy to do? Blow a hole in the wall and scale down the building that’s what! Tossing in grenades as I get to each floor. Fun with fire? or lightening the load, those grenades were getting heavy….You decide! I’m off to help the B team kill something……

Comments

Awesome! I love these kinds of journal entries. Brings the story to life for me.

The adventures in the stairwell
 

Can’t decide which of these 2 lines are my favorite-
“occasional giant blood soaked ferret looking for food”
“Wash that down with a cup of black gold that was so horrible, the cup rusted through.”
Nice work!
You all need to id yourselves in the logs so outsiders know who wrote what…

The adventures in the stairwell
 

Thanks VP! I updated the log with a link to Johnathan. I will start going through the logs and add character links into them.

The adventures in the stairwell
 

I think my favorite was “these fools were slower than passing a 20lb gall stone in winter.”

The adventures in the stairwell
Old_Man_at_the_Gate Old_Man_at_the_Gate

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