Darkness falls on St. Albans

Started by Monte Furlong, June 11, 2018, 11:42:19 pm

Monte Furlong

Location: Port Newhope on St. Albans.

Monte Furlong had finished his business and was walking the concourse when the alarms started ringing through the small outpost. Snow covered most of the outlying grounds, even making landing at the small port difficult. Drifts formed gussets against the various storefronts lining the wide boulevard that was filled with patrons making their way here and there on their individual businesses. A good thing the law restrictions here were non-existant. The comfort of having his array of weapons displayed openly keep unnecessary conversation with strangers to a minimum.

The carry bag that he slugged along with him carried the few provisions that he had picked up at the supply store moments before. His gear remained at the hostel where he had spent the past week - week and a half - since leaving his last adventure. Leads were drying up, and trying to find those little trinkets that kept him entertained were few and far between. A good thing he had his heritage to keep him funded for these ventures out and about, looking for bits of history that others claimed didn't exist.

He grunted and then the loud clambering of bells and shrill screams of a siren brought him to a stop.

There was something odd about the hulking shadow that loomed in the sky overhead. Due to the excessive cloud cover, it was hard for Monte to make out any details, but he could watch as it descended to land somewhere just past the edge of the town, but not directly at the port. Somewhere in between, almost like it wanted to blockade the approach to the landing pads.

Monte Furlong

The thundering roar of its thrusters echoed down the roadway as it started to whine down in intensity. The dust that was kicked up sand blasted the roofs of the higher store fronts, shredding some of the dilapidated paint of the facades. There was something ominous about that ship. Something that didn't belong...

Monte jerked back in reaction when he realized what he had just barely glimpsed through the snow filled sky as it had descended. There were spikes and what looked like bodies on the nose. Only one thing... Reavers!

As Monte came around one corner, he saw townspeople stacking crates and overturned wagons into a barricade across the end of the concourse nearest the port. Several men were packing weapons; pistols, shotguns, even pitchforks and shovels.

"Good luck with that, boys." Monte muttered to himself. He didn't have any direct experience, but he had heard stories. Heck, everyone had stories. Most of them were too fantastical to be real. Bedtime nightmares to scare the little ones. Explanations for missing ships, or empty derelicts found covered in blood stains but no bodies. Horror story holo-vids for entertainment purposes, not to be considered about anyone living or dead.

Monte Furlong

He shook his head, and then started checking his automatics. Pop a clip, check ammo level, reset it and jack in the first round, return it to its holster under his armpit. Do the same for the other. Slide his 12 gauge off his shoulder, jack in a round and push an extra one into the chamber feed. He weighed the shotgun in both hands as he stepped further into the street, avoiding the two women running past, heading further away from the port end of town.

"'Scuse me, m'am."

Monte Furlong

Suddenly, a few ragged shots rang out from the far side of the barricade. Moments later, a long spear sailed over the barrier, glancing off the shoulder of one of the men hauling sandbags to toss over the top of the pile of crates. He staggered for a moment and then dropped like a dead weight. A figure jumped up onto the top of the barrier, brandishing some long, weird implement, and screaming incoherently at the citizens who stood frozen in shock at the sight. Light glinted off the spikes and pins embedded in the creature's face and arms, adding a gross impression to what could best be described as a horror.

Monte stood transfixed trying to take in the tableau in front of him. Men who had been busy stacking whatever they could get their hands on, now dashed for whatever they could grab for weapons. Some had theirs readily at hand, and tried to stand their ground. The creature raised its long shafted weapon overhead and gave out a war cry before pointing it down and launching it. With a thud it sailed down toward one of the townsmen, spearing through his chest and embedding into the wall behind, a six foot long barbed harpoon pinning the man in place. Two other men fired their shotguns up at the reaver, knocking it backwards off the barricade, only to be replaced by three more, similarly armed. More spiked shafts sailed down at the defenders.

Monte Furlong

Suddenly, there was a break in the barricade as more creatures poured through where an overturned cart gave way to pressure from behind. Two townsmen swung axes at the oncoming horde, only to go under the presence of too many hostiles. Monte ducked back into an alcove while raising his shotgun to his shoulder. Although he was too far away to be accurate, he felt it wouldn't be long before the horde would overtake his position.

A man and woman ran from one of the stores and headed toward Monte's position. Both were totting handguns, but instead of approaching him, they entered the fish shop nest to his position. It was an odd move, but Monte couldn't tell their purpose. Moments later, there was the crashing sound of glass and heavy wood from inside the store. Monte flinched but stood his ground.

Another man, young by the look of it, jumped onto a small mule and gunned the engine. The gears growled in protest as he missed a gear trying to get it into action. Several Reavers looked his way, drawn by the noise.

Screams from the end of the concourse, mixed with scattered gunfire, brought Monte's attention back to the matter at hand. As he stepped sideways out of the alcove, the better to aim at the mass of mutilated bodies that gained in numbers against the few remaining townfolk trying to hold them back, the store door swung wide and the couple came out. She was brandishing what could only be described as the biggest gorram harpoon gun he had ever seen. It had a drum magazine near the front and her shoulder bag was stuffed with additional spears. The man was followed by another, both carrying normal single shot spear guns. The trio ran across the street to another location across the way.

Monte Furlong

The young'un had managed to get his mule running and spun around to drive back up the street. Monte spotted a Reaver that was in a mad dash toward the vehicle, and drew a bead and fired. The blast tore the monster's left should apart, and it staggered for two steps before diving for the rear rack on the mule, just managing to grab it with its right hand and hanging on.

The emergancy lighting gave a strange, etherical effect to the overall chaos. Monte stepped out, two automatics slung in shoulder harness under each arm. He cocked another round into the shotgun and took a quick double step toward the mule. If he could make it to the mule, he might be able to help and together they might make a good run for the exit.

Anything is better than nothing.

Out of his left peripheral vision, he saw a group of horrors closing on the pair of survivors armed with harpoons.

Monte Furlong

Monte reached the mule as a second Reaver got to the passenger side and tried to climb into the vehicle. He jumped onto the front bumper and pushed the shotgun into the monster's face and pulled the trigger. The mule bucked at the same time, and Monte almost lost hold on the ill held weapon, as the blast tore the back of the creature's head off. The creature stared at him for a moment with reddened eyes and slobber coming out of what was left of its jaw before tumbling off the mule. The young driver managed to zig zag momentarily, throwing off the first monster as well.

A large explosion rocked the far end of the concourse, and several bodies could be seen flying among the dark ominous cloud of smoke. Or rather, some bodies and some parts of bodies. Gore fell across the back of the mule as it skidded around parked and crashed vehicles, a herd of creatures hot on their heals.

"Gorram gose! Can't this thing go any faster?" Monte cried out as he tried to balance against the windscreen and the passenger seat, his shotgun barking off rounds at the leading Reavers, dropping them on occasion, only to see the occasional one pick itself back up and join in on the parade.

Monte Furlong

The driver yelled out a warning as the mule careened against a curb and sideswiped a lamp post, causing it to nose dive into a lean to at an intersection. Monte felt the momentum try to throw him out the side of the vehicle, and grabbed for support with his left hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the scar faced cretin jump from the side and tackle the driver, pulling him out of the mule. Monte swung the stock of his shotgun at the Reaver's head, but missed. It was too late for the kid, and shiny steel teeth bit into his jugular.

Monte leaped from the stranded four wheeler and ran toward a stairwell on one side of a building across the street. There he burst through the door at the top landing and dropped to the floor, his back against the wooden door acting as a barrier to the throng below.

Two small faces stared at him in total horror. "Hi, kids," he managed a grin to disarm them. "Are we having fun yet?"

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