>>3694316

>Search the [Machine Shed] for specific supplies

You need stuff to open or bust locks and doors. Maybe something that's quieter than a handgun against threats too.

>>3694316
>Check contents of [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack]

>>3694334
+1

>>3694316
>Search the [Machine Shed] for specific supplies

Forewarned is forearmed, you'd never heard anybody say it before, but you think it was in a book you read before the incident-- that was nearly a week ago. You decide to double check your supplies and see if you're missing anything important.

The first item in your [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack] was probably the most important given what else you had in mind; a huge flashlight. You hadn't been using it much outside for fear of attracting attention, but it was ideal for lighting your space when searching or giving you strong light to work. It had a hand-crank and takes batteries as well, but it was hard to carry and heavy. carrying it anywhere other than by your side was difficult. You turn it on, shining a bright flood of light on to an interior wall. You had spray-painted all the windows a few days after arriving to keep the light of day out, so in here at least there was little risk of it being spotted.

The next was a messy approximation of a first aid kit. Hardly ideal supplies but you found some triangle bandages, elastic bandages, sanitary pads and antibiotic ointment in a gas-station bathroom; with the addition of a pair of safety scissors, cotton balls and a bottle of expired painkillers, you have enough here to deal with any minor injuries, but care will be minimal and slow.

Speaking of painkillers, you have a handful of single serving liquor bottles swiped from the same gas-station. You don't think they'll be any good as an antiseptic, but they can take some of the edge off when the going gets tough. You briefly consider downing one before you go out today, but you think better of it. You'll save it for when you start to lose your Nerve.

Other odds-and-ends sit in the bottom of the bag, a bottle opener, rags, a pair of plastic dipped garden gloves. The [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack] really has an assortment of junky little things that may be useful for junky little purposes. You make a mental note that there isn't much space for anything else except a few snack bars and a bottle of water on the side, which you thoughtfully add for tonight's sojourn.

The flashlight flickers briefly, but after the scare it continues to illuminate the wall and swirling flecks of dust. You decide to get to looking for the one thing you're most sorely missing and thankfully find it with a minimum of trouble and noise. In a crate underneath one of the work-tables you find an assortment of hand tools, among them a pair of evenly sized wrenches. You would have preferred a prybar, but a friend in college once showed you how to break open a padlock with them. It won't be of much use opening door locks however;

After a quick additional once over you don't see much else of use; though one additional wrench catches your fancy for no other reason than that it was long, with a wrapped handle. You tie the three of them into a bundle with a rag, turn off and put away your flashlight and head out the back, [Bundle of Wrenches] in hand.

>>3694334
>>3694336
>>3694338
>>3694340
In the future I'll remember to link the chosen course of action to the first update post.

Tonight was foggy; it was foggy every night since this started; a Monday you think. That would have made the day before then the last Sunday literally; though somehow that kind of stupid joke wasn't quite as funny today as it would have been any time before, that was nearly a week ago.

With the addition of your [Bundle of Wrenches] you're ready to go looking for supplies, and much better equipped for traversing the fenced off yards of the [The Projects]. Of course, if anyone else had the same idea as you did, the area may have already been picked over.

Where would you think to go first, to look for supplies, people or both?
>Head for the highway to get a better view. The cars are unlikely to have much in the way of goods, but you'd be able to see any lights or smoke from up there.
>Head towards the outskirts or suburbs. You saw some... things... that way, but they're slow and easy to avoid.
>Head towards downtown. It's where you keep hearing strange noises, but it's also probably where you can find the most stores and shops with relevant items.
>Another course of action.

>>3694447

>Head for the highway to get a better view. The cars are unlikely to have much in the way of goods, but you'd be able to see any lights or smoke from up there.

>>3694447
>Head towards the outskirts or suburbs. You saw some... things... that way, but they're slow and easy to avoid.

>>3694447
>>Head for the highway to get a better view. The cars are unlikely to have much in the way of goods, but you'd be able to see any lights or smoke from up there.

>>3694447
>Head for the highway to get a better view. The cars are unlikely to have much in the way of goods, but you'd be able to see any lights or smoke from up there.

>>3694479
>>3694484
>>3694487
You make for the highway; which is easy enough to locate even in the dark. Whether you were becoming better adjusted to your nocturnal schedule or just familiarity with the dilapidated streets, you make excellent time to the ramps. There wasn't much in the way of cover up the concrete ribbon, but the side walls were high enough to conceal you on the way up to the top. Even in the dark you can see from where you left it -- that was nearly a week ago -- your tan 4-door sedan had not budged.

You didn't suspect that the cars would have suddenly re-locked in your absence, but a quick open and shut of a nearby truck confirms what you already knew. After a cursory glance about the interior, you move to the truck bed; a rugged plastic bin is bolted to the side. Lifting yourself up the tailgate you check the lid; a padlock. You smugly set aside your wrenches prepared to try your clever technique, only to find that when you give the padlock a tug, the drilled holes crack with a crunch, the lock coming entirely free, still shut. It's hard to say whether it had broken down before or after ["The Blue Sun"] rose, but that was nearly a week ago, ultimately it didn't matter. The thought sticks for a moment, like gummy buttons on an old phone.

The contents of the box made no sense; it should probably contain tools or fishing gear. Maybe if it was a city truck it would have had wire, a multimeter and insulated gloves. Instead, inside was a still-frozen ham, a stack of DVDs and golf-tees. Food was of course a welcome find, but far too convenient, there was no way there would be cold, much less frozen food in a car that was nearly a week ago- you catch it again. Why were you obsessing over it? Surely it was traumatic and sudden, but nothing that you missed of your old life existed here on this highway. You catch the words again, 'that was nearly a week ago', and that's when you see it.

A glistening black string trails into the box from behind the hinge. You withdraw your hands slowly, allowing the box to shut gently. Off the side of the truck bed the string thickens into a rope, your eyes trace along it as you quietly creep out of the truck bed. Had you been looking from below you would have mistaken it for telephone cables or electrical wire and been none-the wiser, but from up here you can see it as it hangs across the gap to a water tower, leading up to a silhouette hunched on the edge. The ropes, you see, all lead up into an irregular spiky ball, like a sea urchin perched onto a mottled dog-like body. The ropes... the tongues, you observe, hang from a wide toothless maw. You can't see for the darkness, but there are other figures draped on the edges of the water tower and on the railing below; they look human, but they don't look to be in one piece.

>>3694607
'A week ago' quivers in your mind as you see its spiny head shake slightly, each point swaying in the air. All at once you understand; the box was bait; and so was the idea, the nostalgia. The very idea of ["I should come back"] sitting like cheese on a trap. You would have to watch your step. You hear a snap.

For a moment your mind races and you raise your [Bundle of Wrenches] but the sound of dragging comes instead from further up the road. Past your car, a flailing body slides across the asphalt, slams into the barrier, then bounces up and over. You catch sight of another [Spike Head], this one perched on the wreck of a semi, half-fallen from the road onto a building just below. For a moment you wonder if you should help, but you see the shiny white face just before it slips into the predator's mouth with a soft crunch. It was one of the odd human like things you saw congregating towards the suburbs. Two arms and two legs, they sometimes had clothes, other times they were naked, but they were always skinny and their faces were always eyeless white masks with only a mishapen hole of a mouth. These [Blanks] were slow and uncoordinated, which explains why it was so easily caught.

While you could stop and watch the show (not a really enticing prospect), it's clear you can't go about your search without a bit more of a plan.

>Continue to search the vehicles, carefully watching for the [Spike Head] snares
>Head the other way to see if there's an area without [Spike Heads] along the highway
>Try to attack or drive off the [Spike Heads]
>Find or something to trip the [Spike Heads] traps where you find them
>Another course of action

>>3694609
>Head the other way to see if there's an area without [Spike Heads] along the highway

>>3694609
>Head the other way to see if there's an area without [Spike Heads] along the highway

>>3694636
>>3694646
You do not need any more reason to head the other way and weren't going to wait for one to be provided to you. Leaving the [Blank] to its fate, you trudge on back towards the ramp and then past it, where it curves away from [The Projects]. By car or bike this could take you as far as the bridge across the river, but on foot that trip would take you several hours. If you wanted to go that way and appreciable distance you might have to risk camping out, which would be nearly impossible on the highway unless you found an intact trailer to hide in. It would be better still then to just travel at street level where you could slip into buildings whenever the sun rose.

The cars thin out somewhat as you go, only to bunch up again where another pileup occured. This area smells of gasoline and fire, and the burnt out remains of a tanker truck speak to the source. In spite of the risk, the husk of the tank was still the best vantage point you had for some distance, so you climb the ladder and take a look about.

[Downtown] looks much as it had from here, though from the additional height you can see a few peculiarities. The skyline didn't look right, like the buildings were out of order, but towards the top of one building a few floors still shine with dim light. Given your most recent encounter you don't want to assume anything as hopeful as survivors, but you couldn't rule it out either. You make a mental note of which building and roughly how high up.

Looking back across [The Projects] it's remarkable how similar it looked to before; even though you knew it to be scrambled. A far ways back you can see the [Scrapyard]. Thin smoke billows from somewhere thereabouts and some of the security lights flicker on and off.

The suburbs are covered mostly by trees from the various [Parks] splitting this district. When you look into the tree cover, you feel like you sometimes see trees swaying the wrong way with the wind. You hope you're mistaken.

Having no other views from your vantage, you step down to search the vehicles.

>>3694720
Car after car, trunk after trunk; you are astounded by the lack of useful items. Fresh food had not fared well for days in sun-beaten cars. When you finally do find canned and dry food, you realize your [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack] won't carry anymore. You're about to call it quits when you find a duffel bag full of ski-gear in an SUV. Dumping the unwieldy boots and most of the clothing, you have ample room to carry your haul, though by comparison the bag makes your find seem disappointing. Rummaging back through the clothes, you decide that a [Black Balaclava] and [Ski Goggles] are maybe useful enough to take with. You consider taking the ski jacket, but it's a garish reflective orange and will surely broadcast your location to anything else out there in the night and not everything would be as sedentary as the [Spike Heads] (if they indeed were; the stunning amount of information you did not know about these horrible creatures could very well get you killed).

Once you're satisfied you've searched as many vehicles as reasonable, you zip shut the duffel and begin on the way back to the ramp and then down towards the [Machine Shed]. Upon arrival, you empty the bag, roughly organizing the foodstuffs. This would keep you comfortably for another week; uncomfortably for nearly a month. Additionally the [Spacious Duffel] was a fortunate find and will make it easier to carry back things you find. You did find it difficult to move with on your way back however.

With everything squared away, you look outside to the sky. Without a working watch, you've had to guess how much time you have until sun-up. By your reckoning, you still have a little over half the night remaining, though it would be better to be back earlier than later.

Where will you go to investigate next?
>Go to explore around [The Projects]
>Travel to the [Scrapyard]
>Try to slip into the suburbs via [Parks]
>Risk exploring [Downtown]
>Another course of action

And should you take or leave anything behind? Lighter loads leave you with less to work with, but also less to lose and less to slow you down.

We will be resuming 7/26 in the evening; roughly 8pm EST. Feel free to ask to inspect any of the [Key]s listed if you want more information about a given topic or item.

>>3694724
>Try to slip into the suburbs via [Parks]

>>3694724
>Another course of action
Check out and patrol our immediate neighborhood.

>>3694724
So the "keys" are not physical items you hold, but are like locations or objects you can interact with like in typing text in a interactive game?

>>3694856
As far as i see yes. They are KEY ITEMS or LOCATIONS, PEOPLE and MONSTERS.

>>3694724
>Try to slip into the suburbs via [Parks]

>>3694724
>>3694755
This. If I'm not mistaken the local neighborhood is The Projects?
>Go to explore around [The Projects]

>>3694856
I wasn't very consistent in describing keys and keywords last night, I'll post a short description with my first update for tonight.

Looks to be a tie, so we'll be splitting time between searching ["The Projects"] and ["The Parks"].

More coming soon.

>>3696384
>>3696355
I forgot to put in my post earlier
>Look for a bike

Welcome Back to the Strangerhood.
As a bit of a clarification it occurs to me I haven't been keeping very good track between [Keys] and [Keywords]; I'll take a moment to correct which are which.
Places that can be used will be [Keys] so the [Machine Shed] is a Key, as well as items and usable things.
Places that can be gone to should be ["Keywords"] such as ["The Parks"], as well as ideas.
I'll keep a better track of these in the future.

>>3694747
>>3694942
>>3696355
>>3694755

You take a moment to repack and get ready to move again. If you've learned anything in your brief time in this new world, it's that time is always against you. Before all this you rented a house in ["The Suburbs"]; and while you didn't keep much at home, you're certain there's still plenty of use there. At least you hope so.

["The Parks"] however sit between ["The Projects"] and your destination. You had enjoyed the greenery before all this, but in the dark the paths and trails seem much less inviting. Your encounter with the ["Spike Heads"] gives you reason enough to pause as well; returning to places you know isn't any guarantee of safety. You decide it's better to give ["The Projects"] a once over before you go.

>>3696554
["The Projects"] as you know them, are a dark maze of fenced off yards and dilapidated buildings. There used to be dogs in some of these yards and you're not sure if you're glad of their absence or concerned. Unwrapping your [Bundle of Wrenches], you can break through most padlocked gates with only a little difficulty. Other than the [Machine Shed] however, most of the warehouses and bigger businesses were locked tight with steel doors and high windows. In the yards however, you discover what you're looking for, after a fashion. The [Rusted Bicycle] is missing a seat, but the tires are in good condition, if a bit squeaky. It has a front basket about the right size for carrying your [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack] and a foggy pedal-powered light. The wires to the light are loose, but you can cinch them back together or disconnect them fairly easily. The [Rusted Bicycle] will probably serve well on streets and concrete trails, but off-road biking or high-stress maneuvers will probably risk breaking it.

Additionally, you pocket and load your [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack] with a few nuts, bolts and screws; all too dirty and eclectic to be relied on for building. They were, however, heavier than the gravel rocks that covered some of the drives and more regular. If you needed to distract someone... or something. You wheel your find back out of the yard and head back towards ["The Parks"]

The rustling trees and deeper dark loom. With no guarantees the paths would be as you remember, how do you intend to go through ["The Parks"]?
>Travel by [Rusty Bicycle], with or without the mounted light
>Travel on foot

How do you intend to navigate?
>Travel the most developed paths; they were a straight shot before
>Navigate by dead reckoning, turning left or right to try and go as straight as possible
>Find a path that leads to some significant landmark, such as a pond or lake and hop from landmark to landmark until you make it to ["The Suburbs"]

>>3696564
>Find a path that leads to some significant landmark, such as a pond or lake and hop from landmark to landmark until you make it to ["The Suburbs"]

>>3696577
This, and we should probably walk, and save the bike for more long-distance traveling.

>>3696564
>Travel on foot.
>Find a path that leads to some significant landmark, such as a pond or lake and hop from landmark to landmark until you make it to ["The Suburbs"]

>>3696577
>>3696596
>>3696654

You decide to leave the [Rusty Bicycle] behind; it would be more useful traveling towards the riverfront on another day and losing it in the ["The Parks"] would be a terrible waste. As you step past the open and into the tree cover, you can't help but feel slightly under-prepared.

[The Parks] are dark with a minimum of light slipping through the branches and leaves of the canopy above. It hadn't looked sparse from above, but on the ground it was positively oppressive. The tree trunks and underbrush were heavier than you remembered and roots have slipped through the cracks in the path. You nearly wouldn't have seen them if you hadn't been looking. Two white masks of ["Blanks"] slip out of the woods, close. Too close; the emaciated figures are standing feet away. You raise your [Bundle of Wrenches] and they at once cower, stumbling across the path and off into the woods opposite. Just as you'd breathed a sigh of relief you see something that chills your blood. One additional ["Blank"] is walking down the path towards you, and with it, the craven ["Blanks"] return again to the path, their posture more confident.

["Blanks"] are uncoordinated, cowardly and generally weak. You'd observed some fall down steps or over railings to their deaths (if, indeed they were ever living) but in groups they grew bolder, and the bigger the group, the more aggressive they became. Thinning their numbers is the surest way to drive them off; allowing them to gather was a recipe for disaster.

The ["Blanks"] approach. They would reach for you if they got close enough, and they outnumber you, but using your [Strange 9] might attract undue attention. Fleeing may still be an option, but you would have to find another trail.

>Ready yourself to attack with your [Bundle of Wrenches]
>Attack with your [Strange 9]
>Avoid them, you can easily outrun them
>Another course of action

>>3696818
Push one over, aim for the head and keep moving on to your destination.

>>3696818
>Avoid them, you can easily outrun them
Lead them off a ledge or push em off somewhere it would hurt.

>>3696843
They would be still be here on your way back. You decide it's best to deal with them now rather than risk a crowd blocking your way home. You heft your [Bundle of Wrenches], step up to the closest one, plant one foot on the ground and another in the ["Blank"]'s chest, and knock it over with a push. You had intended to finish it off on the ground, but the spindly form almost does a full backward somersault, out of reach. You swear as one of the other pitiful forms stumbles into you, grabbing at your arm and face. You feel something pull as you shove it off, as its scrabbling fingers fall away. You twist back, raise your bludgeon in both hands and swing with your entire body at its mask, which cracks and disintegrates along with its head. The ["Blank"] does not bleed and its headless body flops to the path without a sound. By the time you turn, the other ["Blanks"] are already scrambling back upright and running away.

Your shoulder hurts, but as you roll it through its range of motion, it seems to be only bruised. The way forward into [The Parks] is now clear and you proceed.

As you continue into [The Parks] you find yourself on the edge of a duck pond; more similar to a pool of brackish oil than a blue pool. You hear a ticking noise; it intensifies as if approaching from across the lake. You move to hide behind a nearby metal trash-can, just in time to see multiple figures burst from the treelike. Men with guns and black clothing hurry away from another much larger figure. They stop and turn at sporadic intervals to fire, but their weapons don't seem to make the right kind of noises; sounding more like the whistling of a tea kettle, starting suddenly and clipped short. The brutish form doesn't seem to make noise when it stomps or when it screeches, but you can hear it deep in the back of your head. The ticking continues, and when one of the gunmen is tackled by the car-sized monstrosity, they both fly backwards into the water with a splash. The ticking seems to split as if one instrument in series falls out of tune, until the single noise slows and stops. The others tick on as the soldiers gather about the water, confer for a moment and then, with the sound of the bleeting of an electric alarm they disappear with a spark of warm red static. The monstrosity does not float to the surface, but the body of the ["Clock Soldier"] floats amid the dark water.

What will you do?
>Move around the lake and investigate the body of a ["Clock Soldier"]
>Continue along the path past the lake, towards ["The Suburbs"]
>Investigate the crushed path leading back into ["The Park"] where the soldiers and monster came from
>Another course of action

>>3697223
>Move around the lake and investigate the body of a ["Clock Soldier"]

>>3697223
>Move around the lake and investigate the body of a ["Clock Soldier"]

>>3697230
>>3697256
You proceed slowly about the pond; keeping one eye on the water as you go. You hoped whatever they had been shooting at was dead; but that kind of optimism seemed risky; so you keep one eye on the still rippling surface. Once you'd made it about to where the scuffle had occurred, you step out to the water's edge where the dead ["Clock Soldier"] floated. At a closer glance, the outfit was clearly military but didn't seem to match any army or navy you'd ever seen. With some difficulty you use you [Bundle of Wrenches] to hook the body and bring it close enough to drag onto the grass.

The first thing you notice about the body is a foot wide hole in the chest and stomach; nausea hits you, but you take a deep breath and look the rest of it over. Him, her, it was hard to tell. Underneath a [Cracked Helmet] with a full face visor, a smaller gas-mask covered the deceased soldiers features. Across its chest, the smashed remains of some oversized manner of stop-watch was half-crushed into his body. It made the sounds a pop-top in a soda can or broken guitar strings whenever you jostled it or the ["Clock Soldier"], it must have been what was making the noise earlier. Broken now.

You take the [Cracked Helmet] off the ["Clock Soldier"]; all the rest of the gear looks to be in pretty bad shape, including its rifle. The [Shattered Clockgun] is in several pieces and won't be of any use in this condition. You decide to take it along with you for now along with what seem to be full magazines, but you may have to discard it if you want to fit other things in your [Spacious Duffel]. Along with your other gear, the [Spacious Duffel] has room for only a few more things. Anything else you'll have to carry like your [Bundle of Wrenches] in one hand or tuck in your clothes or pockets like the [Strange 9].

You hear ticking again, slower and quieter coming from the hole in the woods. What do you do?
>Move on quickly; you don't want to find out what these ["Clock Soldiers"] are doing out here, not yet
>Hide, and wait to see whether or not more are on the way
>Search for the ticking; they don't seem to be like the ["Blanks"] or ["Spike Heads"], maybe they're survivors of some kind?
>Another course of action

Additionally: You may want to decide to discard some [Key] items now if you don't feel you want to carry them. You can stash them, but there is a chance they could be taken or disappear in your absence. It will be more difficult to discard them under pressure.

It seems I'm out of time for tonight; feel free to post responses. We'll pick up again 7/27, again at 8pm EST.

As a reminder, if you want more information about your [Keys], you can ask as part of a response and I'll include it during updates.

>>3697411
>Hide, and wait to see whether or not more are on the way

Maybe we can fix the guy up. Is he all mechanical?

>>3697411
>Hide, and wait to see whether or not more are on the way.
Hopefully get some information.

Please excuse me for a late arrival, I had dinner slightly late. We will be resuming immediately.

>>3697518
>>3697572
It would be better to not risk startling any stragglers; assuming this wasn't another full group of strange troops. You don't have much in the way of cover by the pond, however, so you choose to bolt for the tree-line and hide just at the edge of the woods.

Just as you've knelt down by one of the stockier trunks, another ["Clock Soldier"] stumbles from the woods. It ticks like the others before it, but the ticking is irregular, slowing and speeding as if struggling to keep some pace. It stops for a moment, examining the device on its chest, smacking it with its hand once or twice as it slows, and finally stops. No alarm sound rings out and the night is silent again, the dark figure looking about. When it catches sight of its dead compatriot, it half jogs, half stumbles to the prone form, throwing off its own helmet and scrambling for the deceased's device. Once it has seen the damage as you already have, you hear some muffled curse from its mask, it furiously tosses the device into the pond and kicks its helmet with a grunt. As you watch, you realize the ["Clock Soldier"] doesn't have one of the strange ["Clockguns"] the others did. It may have never had one, or else it could have lost it. In many ways perhaps, this straggler wasn't that dissimilar to you; lost in an alien night.

It hasn't seen you; clearly. But there's no guarantee it wouldn't if you tried to creep back on to the path and continue on your way. You could try and talk to it, it seems to be able to communicate somehow-- if it's continued mutterings are any indication-- but there's no assurance it would be friendly.

What will you do?
>Sneak past and make your way on to ["The Suburbs"] along the lake, it's not worth the risk
>Move into the woods to sneak past at a safer distance; the underbrush will cover you
>Sneak up to the ["Clock Soldier"] and hold it at gunpoint with your [Strange 9], better safe than sorry
>Sneak up to it and quietly make yourself known; you could use some friends out here and friends are better made without bullets
>Call out to it from where you stand; and hope it understands English

>>3699884
>Sneak past and make your way on to ["The Suburbs"] along the lake, it's not worth the risk

>>3699918
There was no sense putting yourself at risk; you had to get a move on to make it to ["The Suburbs"] and back in time. You step back out of the wooded area quietly, directly onto a branch which cracks with a dry snap. You hold your breath and move to dart back behind the tree when you see the ["Clock Soldier"] startle and trip, grabbing its dropped helmet and sprinting as fast as its shorter legs would carry it, around the lake and off into the woods. It didn't take the path, but if you had to guess, it would end up heading towards ["The Downtown"] if it didn't make any turns. You feel a pang of pity. Strange as they were, they seemed more human than anything else you'd encountered. Perhaps you would see that one or its comrades again. Hopefully they wouldn't be shooting at you.

Back on the path again, you make your way past the pond and back into the woods. Sometimes you'd catch sight of a stumbling figure of a ["Blank"] somewhere off the path, but each was alone or in a pair, and they would invariable shrink away if they spotted you. Three seemed to be the magic number.

After what feels like far too long, you step from ["The Parks"] into the familiar grass and sidewalks that looped around ["The Suburbs"]. Signs marked the roadways with names, but the roads themselves seemed not to heed their labeling. Two-way intersections were marked with single names, while at one point no less than twelve signs knotted in a tangle marked the road you were on as 'Green', 'Plum', 'Mason' and eight other separate names (another sign read 'Green' as well, for what it was worth).

["The Suburbs"] were open by design, there wasn't much room to hide from one place to another. Exterior doors, you knew would be solid wood and difficult to break into; but many ground-floor windows were a possible avenue to explore (if you didn't mind the noise).

How will you go about searching ["The Suburbs"]?
>Systematically, starting down one street and going door to door
>Opportunistically, trying to find houses most likely to contain valuable things
>Trust your experience, if you can find your house, you know some of what your neighbors had
>Another course of action

Additionally, while going about searching will you...
>Focus on staying quiet and hidden, in spite of the difficulty?
>Focus on moving quickly, relying on being in and out as soon as possible?
>Focus on being thorough, taking the time you need to find as much as you can?

>>3700086
>Opportunistically, trying to find houses most likely to contain valuable things.
>Focus on moving quickly, relying on being in and out as soon as possible?

>>3700158
Time was of the essence and the open layout was not conducive to covert activity. Nope, tonight was a smash-and-grab kind of night and your [Bundle of Wrenches] was ideal for exactly this purpose.

Starting down the closest street you jog from house to house. Even if you had all night there was no way you could search them all, so you began by looking for signs of things that would be valuable to you in the long run. What, exactly, you were looking for you couldn't quite say; you'd know it when you saw it, you supposed. What you saw, in this case, was a garage door open, raised slightly at the bottom to vent, or perhaps left open by an incautious homeowner.

You could have tried to jack it higher or lift it up, but it would be quicker to just slip in, look and slip out. You set down your [Spacious Duffel] and [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack], retrieving the light within and crawl into the dank garage. First you try the door leading into the house, only to find it locked from inside. You wouldn't be able to get into the rest of the building this way, but it suited you fine, the garage itself was more likely to have what you needed. You begin rummaging through the junk, tossing aside anything that looks wholly useless.

Once you've finished, the garage is a terrible mess; not to say that it was clean to begin with, but underneath boxes and dust and inside cabinets you found a few things of note. While a heavy generator was present in the garage, you did not find any kerosene or gasoline; but you did find [Naphtha Canisters]. This kind of fuel will not run in an engine or generator, but will burn readily and, in a pinch and with sufficient ignition, be an reasonably effective incendiary. Additionally, you found a [Box of Adhesives], a variety of tapes and glues you've handily boxed up (conveniently easy to do with a supply of packing tape) to take with you.

Exiting the garage, you are presented with a new problem. There is not room enough to carry your current supplies and the new ones in your [Spacious Duffel]. Fortunately, various items you've been carrying are apparel, and you manage to save space by putting on your [Black Balaclava] and the [Cracked Helmet], as well as looping the [Ski Goggles] around your neck. It is a little warm and it limits your vision some, but it saves you the room you need to carry your new supplies.

>>3700383
You move on from the house and continue down the street, skipping most of the more typical white-picket fence looking domiciles. If you were looking for food, you'd have probably broken into the biggest looking one, but you are well enough stocked back at the [Machine Shed] to not be concerned. Instead, you find a littler home with a [Low Rider] motorcycle out front. Walking up to the doorway you decide you came to the right place, as a plastic sticker reads 'Home Security by S&W'. You think there may actually be a bullet hole in the welcome mat as well, but it's hard to tell in the dark. You smash out what appears to be the living room window, breaking all the jagged shards with much crunching and crinkling before you crawl inside.

Inside, the house immediately disappoints. You cannot find a key for the [Low Rider] out front and various dressers and cabinets feature none of the firepower the signage had implied. You do find a [Heavy Leather Jacket] in an upstairs closet, but you cannot seem to find anything else of significant value. Once you creep into the basement, you discover perhaps why. A large safe is one of the only objects in the unfinished concrete subfloor, other than an uncomfortable looking desk and chair and a washer-dryer pair. This ["Huge Gun Safe"], you presumed, based on the saloon-cowboy motiff and size, has an equally impressive rotary combination lock on the front. You were not going to be able to get this open without a combination or some particularly Hollywood-inspired gambit, drilling or breaking it open with specialized explosives.

In your search for any scrap of a code or hint, you discover another smaller steel box. This [Little Safe] was heavy, but held to the wooden desk only by screws that came loose with a few good twists. Taking some time at it, you have the [Little Safe] released from its obvious hiding place. An additional once over and you're positive there is little more to be found. A few experimental turns of the combination lock do not pop it open, but you would have time to test as many combinations as you like during the day; unless you discover a better use of your time.

>>3700390
With your search at an end, you exit the way you came and make a mental note as to the house and surroundings. The ["Huge Gun Safe"] could fit as many as several rifles and shotguns, not to mention ammo and whatever else; so the next time you were in ["The Suburbs"] with means, it may be wise to take another swing at it.

Your now full [Spacious Duffel] weighs heavily. You might have more time to search if you wanted to, but heading back may not go smoothly, and to be caught out under the ["Blue Sun"] spelled certain death. You might be able to carry one more large thing if you wore your [Heavy Leather Jacket] on top of your current clothes, and you might be able to hold one more small item in your free hand though, and if heading back through ["The Parks"] was a risk, going too and from repeatedly would only be more of a gamble down the line.

Do you...
>Continue Searching
>Begin on the way back
>Another course of action

>>3700396
>Begin on the way back.
Bags full.
Learn more about ["Blue Sun"]

>>3700399
Seconding.

>>3700399
>>3700622
Returning is most sensible; there would be more time to search another day and, with any luck, more hands to lighten the work. You were disappointed to find no other survivors today, but the ["Clock Soldiers"] gave you some small measure of hope. Whether or not there were people like you out there, you might still not be entirely alone.

Your return through ["The Parks"] is remarkably uneventful. Though the creepy woods were no more comforting on the way back, the path you've devised is in fact rather simply tread. The only thing that concerned you was the body of the dead ["Clock Soldier"] was missing on your return, and slick mud trailed from the pond back towards the round, jagged opening where the unidentified creature had made its dramatic entrance. You did not have time enough left to investigate even if you wanted to, but you decide in the future you will travel the concrete path opposite the ["Forest Maw"] unless you have to.

Once you've returned to familiar territory, you make way back to the [Machine Shed]. Bluish tendrils of light creep from beyond the horizon, the first telltale sign of ["The Blue Sun"] rising. You've found that dreadful and ominous trait rather helpful in truth. While sunrise could often be misjudged by cloud-cover or differing light levels, ["The Blue Sun"] always announced its presence consistently, like some abusive orderly knocking on the door of a padded cell.

["The Blue Sun"] was, after all, the first sign of this cataclysmic change in your world. You'd learned a lot about its habits and behaviors since that harrowing day spent cowering in your car; you couldn't afford not to. One day you spent sleepless hours trying to decide a better name for it, 'devourer', 'the eye of death', maybe you could have called it 'Sinistar' and have a laugh if it caught on with others. It was a serious matter, however, and you decided to call it what it was.

In the seven or so days you've spent hiding out at night, you've seen and felt what it can do; and you're sure you're only scratching the surface. Its rays burn like the world's worst sunburn and cause agony in seconds; the damage heals fine, but the pain doesn't seem to subside at pace. If you had more painkillers, or some topical anesthetic you think it might not be so bad, but untreated it still seemed to smolder for days. If you had been caught out the first day, you're fairly certain you'd have died of shock even if you could get to shade. That wasn't the half of it either; though direct contact was fatal, even having it seep into a room was terrible. Nothing looked right in the blue light, it hurt your eyes and brain. Before you blacked out the windows in the [Machine Shed] you would have terrible and strange nightmares and when it got really bad you somethings thought you'd see or hear them when wide awake. After, your nightmares took on a more typical, almost comforting fear and were constrained to their rightful sleeping place.

>>3700656
When you could quiet your sleep, your observations turned to the more practical. It rose and set consistently; not quite to the same rhythm of the original Sun, but providing ample night all the same. You would eventually like to time it to be certain; regardless of its rotation a few consistent things occurred with its passage. Firstly, bodies seemed to disappear over the day; though you could not be sure that wasn't just a characteristic unique to any unfortunate [Blanks] or that the bodies you'd seen at a distance weren't simply dragged off (or, as you suspected but could not prove, turned to the same wretched creatures that would disappear with the sunrise upon their expiry). You hadn't seen any creatures out during the day, but it was difficult enough to look, so you wouldn't feel comfortable yet ruling out some kind of sunbathing horror.

You could glean nothing further of [The Blue Sun] without more experience, either measuring and observing its malevolent orbit or from someone versed or educated in its origins, nature and purpose. For now, you feel, you know enough to keep from burning to death.

Now safely returned to [The Projects] and your [Machine Shed], you slip in the back and shut the door. Sunrise would be soon, so you go to the sink, drink some water and wash your face. Then, you take inventory. You would like to find a journal or book to keep track of important things, but for now you didn't have much to be mindful of. In any case:

You are [Green Jacket], hiding out in the [Machine Shed]. It is the end of day eight.
You have in your possession: [Assorted Adhesives],[Black Balaclava], [Bundle of Wrenches],[Cracked Helmet], [Heavy Leather Jacket], [Little Safe], [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack], [Naphtha Canisters], [Rusty Bicycle], [Shattered Clockgun], [Ski Goggles], [Spacious Duffel], [Strange 9]

You have the entire day to sleep and do what you will in the [Machine Shed]; which while disorganized may have more useful junk lying around to fix or modify your existing gear. Since you are relatively uninjured, you can probably get two things done before going to sleep.

Select up to two of the following to do during the day:
>Examine the [Shattered Clockgun]
>Try to repair the [Cracked Helmet]
>Try to open the [Little Safe]
>Scrounge to try and to make new survival gear
>Tune and reinforce the [Rusty Bicycle]
>Another course of action

Upon the completion of the day and after a good night rest, you have little else to do but go out on expedition again. Where would you like to explore at nightfall on day nine?
>Explore [The Projects] again
>Return to [The Parks] to explore within or investigate [The Forest Maw]
>Return to [The Suburbs]
>Explore [Downtown], fully aware of the danger
>Travel to the newly accessible [Waterfront]
>Return to [The Highway], in spite of the risks
>Travel to [The Scrapyard]
>Search for somewhere else

I'm ditching the quotes for keywords. Just keep in mind not all keys are tools.

>>3700663
>Try to open the [Little Safe]
>Examine the [Shattered Clockgun]
>Travel to [The Scrapyard]

>>3700399
>Examine the [Shattered Clockgun]
>Try and repair the [Rusty Bicycle]
>Travel to [The Scrapyard]
looks better

>>3700751
This, especially tuning and reinforcing the bike.
We should get around to making a little bike trailer sometime to haul our stuff so we can carry more on our expeditions.
>Learn more about the [Strange 9]

>>3700688
>>3700751
>>3700841
As sunrise begins to microwave, or toast, or suck the soul out of or whatever it is that it is actually doing to everything unfortunate enough to be outdoors, you turn your thoughts to your equipment. Supplies will run out and tools will fail; the former will have you just as dead as the latter, so you decide to try and work on both at once. [The Rusty Bicycle] is some persuasion of a street-bike; thankfully not one of the flimsy built-for-speed race bikes that you'd seen people race downtown on weekends. It was not, however, one of the rugged mountain bikes your college friends had all been enamored with until they decided they were either not interested enough or too cheap to pay for. You couldn't rely on it in this sorry state, since even if the gears and chains worked, if the wheels buckled or the frame broke you'd catch a face-full of asphalt at best and be much worse off for that day.

There was, fortunately, a solution... after a fashion. Scattered about the [Machine Shop] you could find various pieces of scrap-wood and pipe; the former was easy enough to saw or split however you needed, and the latter was heavy and strong. Using your [Assorted Adhesives] and connecting various pipes with your [Bundle of Wrenches], you manage to build a kind of exo-skeleton for the ailing frame, and a set of roughly circular supports for the front and back wheels. The pipes would keep the middle of the bike from falling in half under stress and keep the wheels in line, while the round pieces bolted together inside the original spokes supported the inner rim, so should the tires flatten or the spokes fail, the wheel would break, but stay round, and most importantly not fold over like a tortilla on a turn. It would be heavier and slower than before and not as smooth of a ride, but the odds of crashing or breaking it have dropped immensely. Using an additional piece of pipe and slat of wood, you put a rough seat into place as well. You would have preferred a proper cushion, but that would have to wait.

>>3700909
With [The Reinforced Bicycle] now sitting more or less finished at the side of the room, you turn to your other belongings. You check your [Strange 9], you suppose it used to be some deputy's or policeman's but it just as well could be not considering. The unusual thing was that, since the first night you came across this handgun, it has been something of a riddle. It was ostensibly a standard police-like 9mm handgun, and yet as you've tried to familiarize yourself with it, it continues to defy all your expectations. The magazine, which you took first to be a normal design, seems to keep three bullets stacked side by side; storing a total of twenty-two bullets. You might have chalked it up to being some unusual gimmick or plaything for a gun enthusiast, but when you stripped it down, it looked to be made up of mismatched parts. The slide has print that looks like Russian, while the brief safety instructions on the grip were written in gibberish English. None of the parts are the same color or kind of metal, and all across the outside of the barrel, hidden by the slide, there seems to be Chinese characters; though you can't be certain they aren't something else entirely. If you had found an owners manual, it wouldn't have surprised you if it was written in hieroglyphs. All that aside, you strip it down, examine its eclectic components and find them in good working condition.

>>3700912
Satisfied, you turn to another puzzle in your possession; the [Shattered Clockgun]. You're no expert in firearms, but you've been around them enough to recognize it as some kind of rifle-- anything further is difficult to say in its broken condition. You can see through the side of the gun a round still chambered, and with a little fiddling you get the abused action to throw it free. Holding it up to the light, it's unlike any other bullet you've seen before. The tip of this cartridge was a perfect cylinder with a sharp circular edge, looking a little like the eraser at the end of a pencil. Producing one of the accompanying magazines from where you'd stashed them confirms they do indeed belong to the gun. While the gun itself seems heavier than it should be (though it's difficult to judge based on its various separate pieces) the bullet seems too light, and the light shiny metal at the tip seems to be even lighter than the rest of it. When you finally risk pulling one of the cartridges apart in a vise, the cylindrical bullet proves to be a perfect can shape and fine normal black granules of gunpowder pour from the brass casing, which seems not dissimilar to the kind you've seen from modern rifles in movies and games.

With a better idea of it's workings, you lay out all the pieces in rough order. Some of the bits are self explanatory enough for you to piece them back together. The stock and several of the parts might be able to be glued back together with your [Assorted Adhesives], but the barrel was bent near the end. You may be able to saw it off to make it functional, but none of the saws and files you can find are able to make decent progress. You will need to either find a replacement, find a stronger cutting tool or find some way to bend it back into working shape. For now, you use your [Assorted Adhesives] to piece back together the stock and assembly. You leave your new [Stopped Clockgun] on the table to set and cure; It sure looked intimidating, and probably the [Clock Soldiers] are the only ones that would know it didn't work; though in truth you're not sure you'd know how to use it right even if it was functional.

Your day's work done, you settle into an uncomfortable sleep on a sheet-less cot; falling asleep to the sound of litter blowing in the streets and the smell of old oil.

You'd already woken back up by the time night falls; Sleep wasn't as comfortable as it was necessary, but you'd like to find better accommodations. Safer, more comfortable and darker during the days. You banish these wistful thoughts from your mind as you prepare to go out.

>>3700917
Today, you decide, it would be best to investigate [The Scrapyard]. Having scouted out its position from [The Highway] you could now see the wispy plume of smoke even in the dark. It is close enough you choose to travel on foot; there was no sense risking your [Rusty Bicycle] for such a short trip. Upon arrival, the chain-link fence looms; much taller than you'd think reasonable. With all the strangeness that has become your day-to-day, you wonder if the fence had begun to grow like ivy, up the taller poles that sometimes would miraculously come alight, flickering harsh yellow light for a few minutes before sputtering out again. By their irregular strobes, you find your way to the gate, which sits ajar. Beyond it, along the fence bordering the projects, you're surprised to see a mob of [Blanks], roughly a dozen groping uselessly through the chain-link at some unseen prize. They seem absorbed in their task, one going so far as to climb shakily the trapped limbs of another, make two quivering steps up the diamond-shaped lattice, and then fall backwards into a heap of its fellows. You would not need to get close to them to enter [The Scrapyard], but if they moved, you may have to deal with them on the way back or find a different way out.

You take a moment to check all your gear. You have a small collection of useful gear now; taking it all with you all the time may be too much of a hassle.
>Assuming you took your [Strange 9], [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack] and [Bundle of Wrenches], what else did you wear, take or carry with you in your [Spacious Duffel]?

>Currently, none of your clothing and apparel cannot be worn with one another; but as you find more items you may be unable to wear certain things with others. You may choose to wear some, all or none of your current gear. Keys items other than these take up space in your [Spacious Duffel] or must be carried if they aren't items like the [Strange 9] which can be tucked in clothing.

As soon as you're positive you haven't forgotten anything, will you
>Proceed into [The Scrapyard]
>Sneak up on [The Blanks] and mount some kind of attack
>Look for some way to keep [The Blanks] from being a problem in the future
>Search for another entrance
>Another course of action

As it is 4 AM my time; I will have to leave voting open as I get some sleep. We will continue at 8PM EST on 7/28.

>>3700923
>Check [Naphtha Canisters]
No other items seem important or must have. Check the canisters, see if they are grenades and/or use.
>Search for another entrance.

Please excuse me, I'm not trying to make this a habit; I'll get an update out right away. We are on.

>>3700938
In absence of more information; I'll assume you have taken everything that would seem not to impede you, regarding gear; and the [Naptha Canisters]. As a result, you are wearing the [Heavy Leather Jacket] and your [Black Balaclava], with the [Naphtha Canisters] in your [Spacious Duffel].

The small canisters weren't as big as propane cans used for grilling and marked clearly as 'camp fuel'. Naphtha is not dissimilar from gasoline in that it burns readily and can be explosive in fumes or under pressure, however the [Naphtha Canisters] aren't any good as fuel for engines. As you understand it, something about its composition will cause engines to knock and stall. It's not quite explosive enough either to be relied on like a traditional bomb; to cause an explosion you'd need to breach or open the tank and produce a sufficient spark. Fortunately, your [Strange 9] can probably supply both, if a little unreliably. While there's no such thing as a stealthy explosion, you'll have to devise other means if you intend to use it as a booby trap. Letting it leak nearby an ignition source would be a risky improvised timebomb, but it wouldn't be very effective except for a short distance. You have three of these canisters available.

The threat of the [Blanks] isn't enough to deter you, but you're not going to blithely charge in under the hopes they'd keep themselves entertained until after you've left. More investigation suggests two alternative entrances, though neither are ideal. For one thing, you could climb the chain-link, though it would be slow and exposed up and down. On the other hand, a storm drain sits about thirty meters away from the entrance. If you didn't mind getting your feet wet and slipping into close quarters, it would lead right under the fence into [The Scrapyard].

Ultimately no option struck you as intrinsically better than the other; given the choice however...
>Take the Gate
>Climb the Fence
>Slip into the Storm Drain
>Another Course of Action

>>3703166
>Slip into the Storm Drain.
Inb4 lickers in the drain.

>>3703193
Lifting the grate takes you some effort; if it had been bolted in place you wouldn't have been able to budge it. The ladder is in rough shape with a few rungs out, but its a short enough climb and the remaining metal holds.

Without the moonlight and flickering lights above, the concrete tunnels are pitch black, illuminated only by the shafts to the surface. Your chunky work light would not be ideal for exploring [The Storm Tunnels]; but if you found a long passage without light you would have no choice but to break it back out.

The sounds of water dripping and flowing through unseen conduits and paths echoes and bounces the length of the drain, your footsteps, cautious as they were, carried louds splashing far beyond your location. You're glad to not have far to go; skipping a few pillars of light you come to a second, then a third ladder; decide it was far enough to go and climb.

Once you reach the top of the ladder, the grate remains above you. You're preparing to heft it open when you hear something; the crackle of fire. Taking a second look, you can see warm light illuminating some kind of cavity or canopy above you; whether it was some kind of tent or some large scrap piece was hard to tell. Flames lick from out of a barrel... this fire was set intentionally for warmth and light; which means its creator could still be nearby.

Do you want to climb up into this makeshift camp?
>Quietly try to slip up and out
>Announce your presence and see if someone is nearby
>Slide back down and look for another exit.
>Another course of action

>>3703386
>>Quietly try to slip up and out

Please excuse me. I'm having a horrible time focusing tonight. Expect me back 7/29 at 8pm EST. I'll do some extra prewriting and hopefully be back at it in earnest.

Thank you very much to all participating.

>>3703386
>try to quietly lift the grate and look around

>>3703386
>Announce your presence and see if someone is nearby.

>>3703787
This

>>3703386
>Announce your presence and see if someone is nearby

>>3703480
>>3703787
>>3703958
The hefty grate is difficult to lift from above, but this actually is of some benefit. The iron crossbars give you leverage to slide it aside once you've lifted it on a single side, and the accumulated dirt and grime allows it to slide aside with a minimum of noise.

Once you've climbed out, you find yourself amid a squalid shelter, made into the cavity of some curved scrap of building. It may have been before some manner of silo, hangar or industrial holding tank; but now it was simply a patchy roof over a shed and a barrel, from which embers and smoke rose languidly.

The shed's door is open and you're suprised to have your eyes meet another pair. Some bundle of blankets and rags nearly obscures a gaunt face with large spectacles. You seem to have caught them at a disadvantage, and for a moment neither of you move or speak.

"Hello." You start awkwardly.

The bundle shakes their head and puts a finger to their lips. They crouch cautiously, scooting forward just enough to point out of their shed, and out of the [Scrap Cave] toward the flickering light beyond. At first you do not see their concern, but then you catch sight of a large black blob, sliding silently into and out of the strobing light. They point to you and waves their hand down, 'go back', but with another gesture they beckon you towards them.

'down or up', you suppose they mean, so you...
>Go back Down
>Climb up and hurry into the shed
>Stay put
>Another course of action

>>3705795
>Go back Down
Motion for him to follow us

>>3705885
This, lets try to get a place to talk

>>3705885
>>3706054

If it's nearly as bad as you guess, neither of you should stick around. You gesture back to the concerned bundle, gesturing back down the storm drain.

After a furtive look back out the shed, its occupant looks to be considering staying put, but they gather up some things and lean on the side of the rickety door. They wave you down once again and you slide back down. Then you wait, looking up to see them following. And wait... and wait. Just when you think to climb back up again, something comes sliding over the edge; a [Bundled Canvas] nearly knocks the wind out of you as you catch it.

Then there is a grinding noise as you see the bespectacled survivor trying to pull the grate part of the way closed before dropping in after you. Noticing you gawking they hiss "Get down!". You hear clattering and bending metal, but you don't budge. They finally slip past the grate and try to pull it shut when a sudden bang knocks him from the ladder. You drop their [Bundled Canvas] to catch them, cursing as it drops into the water; but they squirm out of your grip, snatching it out of the drink and running, "Don't just stand there gawking! Move!" They shout back.

You, however are transfixed on the four-by-four square directly above you and the teeth that gnaw at the grate. You can't see anything past the coal-black mass that blocks all light from above, and in the midst of the teeth, the darkness and flailing vestigial limbs was a rash of quivering eyeballs, all bloodshot and red as blood and rage. There is shouting and yelling and screaming in your head and it takes you a moment to realize there is anything else. Unable to muster a more immediate response, you gather your belongings and start stumbling and walking away from where the [Screaming Eyes] continue to fight with the bars, the concrete and their own weight smashed into both and keeping them in place.

>>3706615
The [Spectacled Rags] takes a deep breath, "Tell me you don't live down here."

"That's me, the sewer dweller." You aren't off to the best start, but given the circumstances it's maybe just nice to have something to say to someone.

"Honestly, I can't tell if you're being serious... you don't look that rough off." You can't place their accent, or their gender for that matter; though you can't seem to figure why. It seems at once too high to be male and too low to be female, but whenever you try to judge it one way or the other you second guess it. "Are you an early?"

"Early?"

Your confusion seems to be all the answer they need, "Early. I'll fill you in when there's time; but we're wasting dark hours and we've got nowhere to stay."

"That's not quite right." You correct them, "I have a hideout in [The Projects], it's been safe enough so far"

It's their turn to be confused, "You're not a runaway from the Tickers?" After a moment you realize they're referring to the [Clock Soldiers] and you shake your head. "That's unexpected; and you don't seem to have any oddities."

Seeing as the conversation has been far more give than take (in the future you wonder if you should volunteer as much information as you have) you decide to even out the score a little. "You have a name then?"

"No." The [Spectacled Rags] says, perhaps more sternly than you expected. "And you're looking to last out here I'd suggest you keep yours to yourself." After a pause, they continue, supplying "It's complicated." unhelpfully.

You decide not to press it for now. You and your new companion have made some progress now down [The Storm Tunnels]; the path back to [The Projects] isn't far off, but [Spectacled Rags] pauses. "You didn't come to the scrapyard for no reason, did you? What were you here for?"

>Explain you were investigating the smoke
>Explain you were looking for supplies
>Explain you were surveying the area
>Explain you were looking for survivors

>>3706640
>looking for survivors and supplies. Im happy to have found someone I can actually talk to.

In spite of rather poor output today; I'm out of time. We'll pick back up Wednesday 7/31 at 8 EST.

Voting will remain open, and since it occurs to me I've left you pretty sparse options we'll also put to vote a few more important decision points.

Having found [Spectacled Rags] do you...
>Return to the [Machine Shed] before going forth to search some more
>Try to find a way to double back into [The Scrapyard] without attracting undue attention
>Go to search a different area

Furthermore [Spectacled Rags] is carrying a few things:
>[Large Spectacles]
>[Bundled Canvas] which contains...
>[Egg Timers]
>[Homemade First Aid Kit]

Would you like to trade a weapon to them or wait to find something suitable?

Finally, if you think it pressing enough, you can spend some time asking more about a few things. You won't probably get a full explanation, but if it will better inform your search strategy, will you ask about...
>Tickers / [Clock Soldiers]
>Being "Early"
>"Oddities"
>Names

>>3706923
>Return to the [Machine Shed] before going forth to search some more
>ask about being "Early"

>>3706923
>Return to the [Machine Shed] before going forth to search some more
>ask about being "Early
>Ask about the tickers

>>3706640
>Explain you were investigating the smoke
>Go to search a different area
>Being "Early"

I have to do some end of month stuff. I'll be back and running in 15-30 minutes.

>>3706779
>>3706944
>>3707014
>>3707212
"I was looking for people and [The Scrapyard] seemed like my best bet. I lucked out I guess, getting it in one." You pause before continuing, "I'm really glad I found you out here. Really."

The [Spectacled Rags] pauses for a moment before coughing awkwardly, "Ah, well yeah. It was good you showed up when you did. That thing had chased me all over the yard. It's all kinds of weird about smoke, but I don't think it was going to let me build back up the fire." After another quiet moment they clear their throat again, "What I mean to say is thanks. I didn't expect anybody to be coming."

You hazard a grin and are rewarded with a half-laugh.

The two of you arrive back at your original entry point. You feel a wave of relief as you climb up and peak out to see the continued circus antics of [The Blanks] pratfalling by the entrance. Once you're both up and out, you lead the way back towards [The Projects] and the [Machine Shed].

[Spectacled Rags] whistles upon arrival, "I don't think I'd have had so much trouble if I'd have holed up somewhere like this. Small, but nice."

You shrug, "I'd have preferred a motel really, nowhere good to sleep here."

That gives them pause, "That's... not a bad idea actually. There used to be one out by [The Waterfront]..." They spend a few more moments thinking before nodding, "We should keep that in mind, it could be a lot nicer than... uh, don't get me wrong this is nice."

You open the door for them with a half-smile, "You can call it a shithole and still call it home."

"Thanks." They say, stepping inside, with you following shortly after.

>>3712913
Safely back at the [Machine Shed], you take some time to catch up with the [Spectacled Rags]. You could have rushed right back out looking, but you weren't hurting for anything crucial except for information. Fortunately, for the lack of supplies they bring you, the [Spectacled Rags] is replete with information. You focus on the most pressing.

"So you mentioned I was early. I don't figure you could have gotten out of that mess any sooner."

They shakes their head, taking a bite of beans from a can. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant you're new. It's been what, a few days since you saw that light in the sky?"

You shake your head, "About a week actually."

They scrape the can a bit, as if considering scrounging more out of the can before thinking better of it and setting it aside. "That's just it. You're early. It's what one of the guys called it; cause nobody seemed to have a good timeline of how all of, uh, this happened. The way [The Professor] described it, it's like you cut a calendar into squares and threw it in a bag." They gesture as they talk, like they were holding a bag now full of, days, you suppose.

They shake the imaginary bag, "So now lets say you've been out here a week. That's cause you pulled, out, like a Monday, a Tuesday and a Wednesday, and maybe two Thursdays, I don't know, but they're not the same week, so when you arrive at this Friday." They pause, "Today is Friday right?"

You shrug as they continue, "It doesn't matter, but this Friday only came up for me after about..." They pause, "Man... has it been nearly three months? No, too long... maybe."

They clap their hands together, "Anyways, that's the jist of it. Everybody's taken a different route to today; unless you stick together things mix and jumble; so you really wanna stick together, cause if you lose somebody there is no guarantee they'll see you again for quite some time, or you won't see them when you need them. I mean the more people you bunch together the more coherent things seem to be, and even checking in daily seems to be enough but..." They sigh, "It's really complicated and we're all running on conjecture here."

You nod thoughtfully, "So the reason I haven't been able to find everyone, is cause they've been on, different days? Or something?"

[Spectacles] nods, "It's kind of like that. It's probably easiest to think of it that way. The world itself seems to follow its own clock too, so that's why we call people [Earlies], [Middle] or [Lates]."

>>3712917
You continue with another concern, trying to piece together the puzzle, "So are the.... uh... tickers; are they lates?"

"No, they're something else. [The Professor] called them [Earlies] too."

"[The Professor]?"

"He was a late." They say raising a finger instructively, "He knew a whole lot about the night; but we lost track of him. Well, I did. I was the last one to see him; everybody else had ran off."

"What, why?" You look to him with a scowl, "Are you telling me there were other that left you behind."

"You've got it backwards. I had to leave them behind. Cause of my [Oddity]." They take off their glasses and you can see a spark of red in the back of their pupils. "There are more strange things than monsters out there, and cutting a deal is sometimes a better bet than dying."

You stare with wonder, until they look away, "Uh, I mentioned names earlier. I, uh, got a gift from something called [The Eyeless]. It might sound crazy, but I can tell a lot about people and those things with just a look. But I don't trust it, and I don't think anybody should." They fold their hands, "All of my friends, except [The Professor], they all made friends with something else. [The Nameless]." They replace their glasses with a cough. "[The Nameless] is probably the most dangerous thing out there right now." They don't elaborate.

You take a moment to digest what he's saying before circling back, "The tickers, though, the [Clock Soldiers]. What are they?"

They seem to be grateful for the change of topic, "Even [The Professor] didn't seem to know, but most of us agreed they weren't from around here. They pop in at places, and then they stick around for, uh... about two hours. I think the number '108 minutes' floated around a bit, but they rarely hang around that long. They're human... ish. [The Professor] seemed convinced they were identical to us, just not from the same place."

"You keep mentioning a professor."

"[The Professor]" They correct. When it's apparent you aren't taking that for an answer they continue, "He was a [Late]. He'd been around for the longest we know of. Had the scars to prove it too. He never told me how long it had been and I didn't think it right to ask. He was missing an arm and had no hair on the whole right side of his body. You don't press that kind of thing. In any case, it would be good to have him back, but wishing for it isn't going to make it so."

You nod. "That's all I wanted to know for now. We can go over more later. I just wanted to understand where you were coming from a little."

"You really don't, but I can't blame you. I'll try to fill you in as much as I can." They say, taking a drink of water, "So what's the plan now?"

>>3712920
What is the plan? With another survivor your opportunities don't double, they compound. You could have [Spectacled Rags] stay in the [Machine Shed] and work on something while you go exploring, or you could both gear up and search somewhere.

[Spectacled Rags] has below average Health(1) and average Nerve(2), and aptitudes for Crafting, Observation and Traps. Additionally, they are gifted by [The Eyeless]; though you're not quite sure what that means.

Feel free to divide your gear between [Green Jacket] and [Spectacled Rags]. When you're ready will you...
>Go out together to a location (choose any).
>Go out yourself while leaving [Spectacled Rags] to work. You won't be able to direct them, but they'll improve or create new survival gear you've left behind.
>Another course of action

>>3712923
>Go out yourself while leaving [Spectacled Rags] to work. You won't be able to direct them, but they'll improve or create new survival gear you've left behind.
Let's see what he can do.

>>3713004
This. Leave all but one of the naptha canisters, leather jacket, balaclava, and ski goggles behind.

>>3713004
>>3713138
We're in agreement, however we will still need to choose where we are going next. Choose one of the following:
>[The Projects] or [The Storm Tunnels]
>[The Scrapyard]
>[The Highway]
>[The Downtown]
>[The Parks] or [The Forest Maw]
>[The Suburbs]
>[The Waterfront] (Requires [Reinforced Bicycle])

>>3713258
>[The Downtown]

>>3713402
I thought monsters were downtown
How much dark do we have left?
>The Suburbs

>>3713458
You have heard things from [The Downtown], you can only conclude there is something there that makes awful noises. You also saw something snatch up a [Blank] before near [The Downtown], so it's reasonable to conclude some monstrous things live there.

If you had to guess, you have quite a bit of darkness remaining before the sunrise. Without a clock or watch it will be hard to guess exactly; but you can travel to close locations comfortably. Going to [The Suburbs] or [The Waterfront] (especially [The Waterfront]) may start to strain the time you'll need for the return trip.

I'll leave the vote up until 8/1 at 8 EST. We can continue from there as soon as your destination is decided.

>>3713458
I can change to the suburbs. High risk, high reward.

>>3713258
>>[The Suburbs]
Look for a heavyish blade (like a cleaver or a hatchet) and a long sturdy pole.
I want to try making an improvised polearm that potentially could let us sever a spike ball from its lure. I'm curious if the contents are real.

>>3713556
Thats smart then spear is when it comes to see what happened

Bad news. I forgot about a scheduling conflict today. I'll get the hang of when I have time to run eventually, but tonight is no good. I'll see you all 8/2 at 8 EST though, guaranteed.

Alright, we're back at it. Writing now.

>>3718464
can't wait

>>3713537
>>3713556
>>3713537
>>3713556

"The plan is you stay put and get settled in. I'm headed back towards [The Suburbs] to see if I can find more supplies. Maybe run into more people."

[Spectacles] frowns, "Odds are low. There's no good way to hide out there, except in the [Storm Tunnels]."

"Those go all the way across to there?"

"Yes... and no. I don't recommend hanging down there too long. Especially during the day, mind. You end up too close..." They trail off.

"Too close to..." you start, but they shake their head.

"You're burning dark. I'll explain when you get back." They pause, and more quietly mutter, "Maybe."

It bothers you they remain so evasive about these things, but you decide not to push the issue. They were right, you didn't have all night, especially if you were going to find what you were looking for.

With a curt nod and a wave, you slip back out the back of [The Machine Shed].

* * *

Traversing [The Parks] is uneventful; too quiet in your mind, given yesterday's experience. You hope you're overthinking it; at any moment you expected a rhythmic ticking and the scuffle of boots, or something worse. Still since you know the way it seems much easier to get by. [The Forest Maw] still gapes disconcertingly; still looking far too much like some massive toothy mouth and not enough like the crushed clearing it was.

>>3718714
You nearly stumble directly into a [Blank] as you walk; it's as startled as you, the round mouth-hole rigidly formed into a silent scream. Unlike you, it doesn't keep its footing, falling back hard and cracking its head on the pavement. For a moment you think it's dead until it stirs again with an overdramatic start and scrambles away. So many of these creatures make far too little sound. Having another pair of eyes out might have been helpful. It's better to be lucky than good, you suppose. You heft your [Bundle of Wrenches] over your shoulder as you continue walking, eyes forward.

You're quite glad of your wakeup call, because what confronts you in the Suburbs would have been far worse to absentmindedly blunder into. There are [Blanks] as far as your eyes can see. They're meandering up and down every street, down each driveway. A few seem to have somehow made it on to roofs, though they seem more confused by their vantage point than scouts or lookouts. One you see some distance off tumbles head-first off a roof. Though you expected a wet splat, instead you don't hear it fall as the night splits open with a klaxon-blare of a car alarm. With a sudden purpose, some [Blanks] run awkwardly, some walk lazily and other stumble in the direction of the noise. Within a minute, they'd congregated out of sight, leaving only the stragglers behind. This was going to pose a problem.

Thinking through your mental map of the [Suburbs] you'd so far explored, they were close to the house in which you'd discovered [The Large Safe], but that still left you open to search other streets and homes. With the added risk however, would you take the same tack as before?

>In and out is even more important with higher risk; disregard noise and go as fast as you can
>You weren't any better protected than you were the last time you came, quiet will keep you alive
>If things were going to become more dangerous, you needed to ensure you got as much out of each trip as possible, be thorough
>Safety first means you should scare off or destroy all the [Blanks] you can in your search area. Search and destroy if you would.
>Another course of action

>>3718719
>If things were going to become more dangerous, you needed to ensure you got as much out of each trip as possible, be thorough
Did they track us?

>>3719132
The hostile presence made working difficult and dangerous; and while you were confident you could handle some of the almost comically inept creatures, [The Blanks] would be all the more aggressive for their backup. If three of them were enough to make them act like some kind of zombies, you could only hope thirty of them would be something less than a pack of wolves, or a swarm of wasps.

All the more reason to be careful, and complete in your search. Three yesterday, thirty plus today, would tomorrow play host to a sea of [Blanks] too bunched up and dense to see through? You weren't going to chance finding out.

Where better would it be to start than the only place in the city you knew top to bottom. Your tiny house should still be where it was. Taking a moment to search through your [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack] you find it, your house key.

Even in spite of the sparse cover, you manage to make it to your street. I took you longer than expected, on account of the scrambled streets. In the far distance you think you hear the sound of a rifle's report, four pops and then silence descends once again. You hope it wasn't coming from [The Projects]. As a first order of business, you go to the garage side and are astounded to find the roof and four walls have been torn away in a ragged pattern with no sign or evidence where they may have gone. Nervously you approach and climb over the remains of the door. Nervousness gives way to elation when you see what you were looking for; a two foot long [Pocked Rip Saw]. This particular item you had bought for a song from a neighbor to cut down the annoying hedges in front of your windows; it was terrible for that purpose, but for your plan it would be exceptional. The flat teeth could be roughly sharpened into a serrated edge, or you could grind the flat back into a blade in much the same way. Regardless of your choice, you would have a positively massive carbon-steel blade to work with. It gives you a bit of a maniacal glee to be able to recycle it in such a dramatic fashion when you'd been filling out forms and pouring over spreadsheets not all that long ago.

You decide further musing could wait. There was more to be found in the house. You put the [Pocked Rip Saw] into your [Spacious Duffel]; It has a little trouble fitting on account of its length, but it's width would allow plenty of stuff to be placed over top of it-- laid flat in the bottom.

>>3719476
Upon approaching the door you're surprised to see blue light flickering in the living-room window. Even with the curtains drawn you can see the disconcerting glimmer bath the sparse room. Why? You'd have answers shortly whether you wanted them or not. [Bundle of Wrenches] once again at the ready, you undo the deadbolt and push the door open with a creak. The light filters into the entry hallway and you quietly slink in.

You peek around the corner; it is... was, your home, You know all the rooms, all the corners, the rooms and the furniture. Even so, you're struck by a disconcerting normalcy as each lamp and chair was as you left it on that unassuming morning. The television is on, playing a constant and irritating mid-tone. 'No Signal' would flicker on to the screen shortly as the tone would cut, the screen would flicker black and back on a few times in quick succession, and after a silent pause of deeper black, a '04' would show in the top left, the blank blue picture would come in again and it would start again. By these sporadic strobes you can see the rest of the room and a dark figure seated, hands in its lap; sitting much as you once did on one side of the couch.

It's face was a white mask, but unlike any other you've seen before, its mouth was sealed shut. Instead two roughly circular spaces sat just above the middle of the face, perched over one smaller central hole. A face like a skull.

Your veins freeze cold when you realize it is not watching the television, it is staring motionlessly, looking directly at you.

In that moment, you...
>Stay completely still, make no sudden movements; if it doesn't move, you'll slink back around and search the other rooms.
>Dart back into the hall and out the door, nothing in here is worth the risk
>Spring into attack, you may still be able to catch it by surprise
>Say hello?
>Some other course of action

>>3719478
>Say hello?
The stranger or mimic?

>>3719476
>say hello

>>3719494
>>3719569
"Hello?" You as much say as ask.

For a dreadful moment the mask-like face only looks at you. You're not sure you're relieved when it starts to speak. "Oh I wasn't expecting you to drop by." Its tone is friendly... familiar. "I was just catching up on my shows." It gestures with a twitchy, spastic hand to the television. The tone had dropped in pitch, and the screen now showed a static-filled sunset orange. There was a channel number, again, but it didn't look like any numbers you'd seen before. The [Sitting Skull] pats the couch next to it. "Sit down? I could get you something from the kitchen."

You take a hesitant step into the living room, leaning on the doorframe. "I'm good here." You lie. Everything seemed wrong about this right here, but you took comfort in the fact it did. It was surreal and you could tell... that had to count for something?

"Suit yourself." It says, looking back at the screen. "Is the new place working out? No rats?"

"No rats, yeah."

"Find any roommates?"

You pause, which seems to give it pause. It looks back at you again. Its neck creaks like a warped floorboard as it turns. "Well I don't mean to pry. I just thought it might be lonely." After another moment it speaks again, "Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" It pats the couch again, identically to how it did before.

You cautiously step around the chair between you and it and choose to settle down there instead of join it on the couch. When it continues staring, you clear your throat, "I... uh... like this chair."

Its head tilts as it nods, "I like that chair too. You have good taste." Its head tilts back and it leans back with a popping noise, as if dislocating its spine. "So what brings you back home?"

Should you tell it why you were here? It didn't seem hostile, and you didn't want to offend it. The [Sitting Skull], in its own very twisted and jacked up way, seemed quite relaxed. "I was looking for more-"

"Friends?" it interrupts, "What a coincidence. So am I."

It extends an arm, leaning forward again with a few sick pops. Offered limb is broken at the wrist, allowing the hand to dangle like a keychain. It seemed to be some semblance of a handshake. "I am Witless." When you don't take his hand it leans back and brings it back to their lap with a clatter. "You must be very confused. I speak, I watch television, I am an articulate specimen of academic knowledge, a handsome and suave model of a gentleman." It raises the other limb, tapping two fingers where its mouth would be, "And the only thing I seem to be missing I clearly have. You could surmise, I cannot be the Voiceless." It gives a hacking chuckle, still from no apparent mouth, hole or opening of any kind.

After a few moments pause and after it's finished laughing, awkwardly missing its face as if trying to wipe away non-existent tears of joy, [The Witless] speaks again. "No. I strangled [The Voiceless] and smashed him into little pieces for his part in all this."

>>3719770
You feel ice return to your blood.

"You liked this house didn't you? It was a crappy little shack with a cheapskate landlord. Sometimes junkies would shoot up back in the woods, but it was safe enough. Out of the way. Commute was good. Right?"

You nod nervously.

"Good. I liked it too." After all too long of a pause they speak again, "I'm going to cut you a deal, Mr. Nobody. I've offered this deal to a lot of people but so few really ever take it." It leans forward again, something snaps louder in its back, like it has broken. "You go and... say... tear that upstart Sun out of the sky. You do that for me, and I'll make sure you're rewarded. A fair pay for fair work. The going rate so to speak."

For the first time in all this talk, you think you see some kind of eyes, far back in those sockets. Some intelligent and intense glimmer from deep, miles back into the black pits, looking at you.

"What do you say?" it asks.
>Accept its offer
>Decline... politely
>Ask some questions
>Another course of action

>>3719773
>>Ask some questions
"I hope you understand, I want to be informed before I make my decision."
"So you're the Witless. I've heard of others; the Nameless, the Eyeless. The Voiceless is a new one to me, not to you though, apparently. Do those others make deals too?"
"So you killed The Voiceless 'for his part in all this.' Did he contribute to the rising of the Blue Sun? What about the others? What about you?"
"What happens if the sun is torn down? Does the old one come back?"
"Is it even possible to tear down that Sun? Do you know how?"

>>3719885
All good questions. +1.

>>3719885
>>3719933
"I-" You begin, when suddenly [The Witless]'s mask is directly in your face. The eyes you think you see, seem to be further away than ever.

"You're chatty, aren't you." It says with a bemused tone. You hope it's a bemused tone. "I have siblings. Cousins, really. More like nephews and nieces if I think about it. They could be my fathers. [Eyeless], [Faceless], [Loveless], [Thankless]... [The Voiceless] is no longer your concern; what's left of him is as good at dying as it is running." The masked head turns, too far, and with a snapping noise it rotates past sideways and lolls upside down. They skull-like pits somehow remain upright. "I would not suggest dealing with them, though I'm sure they would say the same of me."

It's voice becomes low, as it takes on a gravely tone, like someone with a neck injury, or tracheotomy, "Of course you can tear down the Sun. Anything can be killed. Even me. He is called [Wantless] and he is a rotten child. A worst parent. Of course he didn't ask to be here, but neither did I. He just doesn't want to go away; not like I do."

The pitch of its voice rises again, once again to the more friendly tone it had, but what it says doesn't match its cheer. "I can tell you cutting him from the sky can't make anything worse than it already is. The visiting team is doing their best but you can't pick a fight with the officials on the field. You especially can't kill them."

With a clatter, it sits back again on the couch. "So what do you think? Does it really matter my part in this if it brings back sunny days? Softball in the park? Dogs walking down fifth street? Heroin overdoses in the gutter? All those things I'm sure you miss already. You can trust me, with my help we can get all that back."

"Unless you think I'm lying?" [The Witless] says with an upward inflection. They wait, staring at you again and you take that as a sign they're awaiting an answer.

Do you...
>Accept
>Decline
>Ask... more questions
>Take Another Course of Action

>>3719885
Supportin

>>3720011
"What exactly is my role in destroying the sun? What will i get? What do you want in return?"

>>3720011
Uhhh, accepting isn't looking so bad...
>>3720062
This I suppose.

>>3720062
>>3720119
"What exactly would be my roll in destroying the Sun?" You ask. You're glad it doesn't interrupt you again. Or get in your face.

There's a pause, and without moving [The Witless] answers. "Simple. You kill the sun by any means necessary. Find where it goes, smother it with a pillow in its sleep."

"And what do I get in return?"

"A boat maybe. A new car. I'm sure we can come to some agreement." [The Witless]'s tone is flat, "If I can't find anything better, you won't die in agony at about 6:30 AM every day. That seems good, and anything else you can think of that seems reasonable."

"And-"

"A favor." [The Witless] interrupts; apparently knowing the question before it's asked. "I help you put out the Sun and you help me with something I need. I want. I desire more than all the bathroom caulk and freeform jazz records in the world."

The last bit didn't make much sense to you, but you got the jist.

The light from the television goes red and the drone quiets to a barely audible whine. The very talkative [Blank] like thing that has been sitting in your living room for an unknown amount of time seems to be willing to sit there for another unknown amount of time. You don't know if you're trying its patience, and you're not sure you want to find out. It breaks the silence, "You can change your mind you know. You can say no. Think about it. Mull it over."

Do you...
>Accept
>Decline
>Ask even more questions
>Ask it to wait
>Take another course of action

>>3720206
>Decline.
I don't trust it. We can still try and stop the sun. Maybe say we can help in anyway we can?

>>3720243
I feel like our chances of stopping the sun are better if we enter the deal with him. As he says, the least we can get is not dying in agony at about 6:30 AM every day. It sounds like whether or not we enter the deal, if we put out the sun he benefits in the same way.
>>3720206
>Accept

>>3720243
>>3720296
Looks like we're even for now. I'll leave voting open until 8pm EST on 8/3, see if we have a tiebreaker by then.

>>3720296
I am a assuming he will give us great power, but at what cost? He is being very vague, he may want to steal our body for all we know. We should at least ask more questions, hope for some concrete answers.

>>3720206
>conditional accept. I agree taking the sun out of the sky would be for the best and i will do what i can to stop it. but if I find out it'll make the place worse then it already is dont expect me to do it.

>>3720411
I was pretty sure the cost was taking out the sun.

>>3721168
Also I'm >>3720296 mobileposting

>>3721168
Maybe. I am assuming there will be some extra clause it only vaguely alluded too. We don't know much about the mysterious bastards.

Short delay today, I'll be back on and posting within the hour.

Alright. I'm gonna level. Something came up and I'm not in a good condition to update today. I'm not going to blame some petty writer's block, but I'm also not going to leave you guys hanging for another two or three hours pretending it's going to happen.

I'll be back on to run on Sunday, 8/4 at the regular 8 EST. I'll try to make it an update worth waiting for. Thank you for your patience.

>>3722677
Thanks for telling us, sorry to hear that.

We are back. Lets get this rolling.

>>3720674
>>3720296
>Accept (Conditional)

"You're going to think it over." [The Witless] says, curtly and clearly.

"I, I had some more questions." You stammer.

"That is unfortunate, as I am completely out of answers. Fresh out." [The Witless] stands with a sick grinding noise and topples. It is at this time you realize its right leg had never actually connected to its body; it remains rigor upright behind where the emaciated body flopped to the floor. The lack of leg does not stop it, however, from standing up again; upright as if the missing foot played no part in its balance. It softly walks over to the television, which goes out without it being touched. The room goes dark, and yet you can still see [The Witless] by the dim light that remains.

"I don't dislike suspicion, or curiosity, or even necessarily opposition. But those that bargain and quibble needlessly? I have dealt with their ilk decisively."

Without moving, [The Witless] is seated again. You do not think you blinked, and yet you did not see him in motion. It is as if he teleported, or skipped like a scratched disk back to an earlier song lyric.

"Do not be concerned. Gifts and deals are roughly the same to me, as long as the outcomes are identical. I suspect they will be." Next, you hear a cocking of a gun and cold steel pressed to your temple. "I'll be in touch." The murderous corpse sneers.

For a moment all you can hear is the report, a sharp ringing in your ears and the muzzle-flash. It takes you a moment to realize the metal of your [Strange 9] in your hand, and the neat circular hole you've punched in the back of the couch adjacent to you. The TV bathes the room in flickering blue light, and a light wisp of smoke finally dissipates from the gun barrel.

On the coffee table, a [Stranger Journal] than any you've seen before rests; tied to the pale leather binding, a tiny compass and an even smaller watch-face. It was 3:40 AM. Two hours and fifty minutes until sunrise. You wonder if you'd misjudged the time before, or else dallied too long here. A quick inspection of your handgun confirms you did not imagine the gunshot (though what of that you had imagined- or else weren't certain- weighed on your mind) which meant you had not imagined the noise either. In more ways than one, you were on the clock.

Putting aside for a moment the monumental task posed by this [Witless], you need to move. You...
>Finish searching your house; you know it better than anyone and it should be easy to get your most important things and leave
>Hurry out and make for [The Parks]; The sooner you're back the better, and [Spectacles] might know more about [The Witless] if you ask
>Search for the [Storm Tunnels] entrance; you don't want to risk running back into a mob of [Blanks] on the way out
>Another course of action

>>3725126
>Hurry out and make for [The Parks]; The sooner you're back the better, and [Spectacles] might know more about [The Witless] if you ask

>>3725126
>Finish searching your house; you know it better than anyone and it should be easy to get your most important things and leave

>>3725266
Support

>>3725266
>>3725493
>>3725395
>Hurry out and make for [The Parks]

Given the circumstances, you no longer had the luxury of a long search. That said you had no intention of leaving entirely empty handed. It was just as well, a lot of what you had been interested in may have been too heavy to drag along, or else too scattered to collect neatly. Still, rummaging through the closet under the stairwell, you manage to find a [Rugged Maglight], and a haul back out front. You take only the time to lock the door behind you (for what good it does you) before looking for your way back.

To your irritation, [The Blanks] that had been formerly distracted have begun to file down the street towards you. There is no avoiding them, an eerie wall of white faces. They don't seem to have caught sight of you yet, but that would be of no consequence: if you were to get past them, they'd have to see you eventually.

You formulate a plan; a terrible plan, mind, but not so terrible that it doesn't edge out a list of other more terrible plans. It might have been good to run over it a few times in your head, but alone and under such a time constraint, there is little else to do but to put it directly and violently into action.

>>3725549
Taking just a moment to slink closer along a privacy fence (it occurs to you, if you had less to carry, you might have been able to escape into the adjacent properties) you make it the the corner, take a deep breath and round it at a jog. Almost immediately a dozen or more faces turn to you; twitching and shaking with some inexpressible rage. As slog closer, you can see hairline cracks form in the masks as bits flake away; their permanently surprised expressions deteriorating into a jagged facsimile of a porcelain bear trap. It would have remained a more terrifying expression if you hadn't pulled your [Strange 9] steadied it and knocked one dead center in the face, smashing like a dinner plate as they collapse on themselves. The others seem to take it as a starting pistol and begin to close in, slowly, but with much more focus than you'd previously seen.

You aren't necessarily relieved to see this, but you did expect it. In spite of their numbers and considerably greater drive, they don't appear to be making any strategic effort to close off your escape routes. They don't close ranks or fan out in any organized fashion, so you return your [Strange 9] to your waistband and take a two-handed swing with your [Bundle of Wrenches] at the closest one on your right hand side, ensuring you keep a brisk pace to and past the line. It crumples and stumbles from the impact, but you do not wait to see if there was lasting damage. Just as soon as you're clear of it, another [Blank] approaches. You choke up to beat down this one as well, only to find instead of groping at you ineffectually, it throws itself into a full body leap. Intercepting it keeps the worst off of you as it's face crushes, but the rest of its body still carries its momentum and mass into you legs knocking you over.

Dazed momentarily, you climb to your feet, catching another [Blank] in the groin as you rise with an underhanded swing. You note no especially effect to the unfortunate victim, but it sprawls into those behind it with predictable effect as you return to a jogging pace. Having escaped their circle, the [Blanks] continue to give chase, but not with such speed or focus to cause you much additional concern. In fact, on the far side nearer your old home, some of them appear to have already forgotten about you, ambling aimlessly; their sharpened features crumbling into even more stupefied gaping mouths than they had been previously bestowed.

>>3725550
Taking a moment to collect yourself, you continue on your way to [The Parks]. You nearly miss it as you reach the tree line, but from out of the brush you see a familiar many-pointed skull pass you, trailing the tendrils that drag from its gaping maw. You watch it struggle with its ungainly face, approaching the mob of [Blanks], and striking with sudden alacrity upon blundering into one, knocking its neighbors over with a flail of its tongues. Was it blind? In any case, at least you know that the [Spike Heads] aren't entirely immobile... nor were they spineless. Having crunched down on the one, you leave it to continue to flail and eat the [Blanks]. They weren't confined just to [The Highway] and [The Projects] either, which made your current idea of an invention all the more important.

Taking care through the dark, you choose to use your [Rugged Maglight] to light your way. If any other [Spike Heads] were lying in wait, it would be much harder to see them in the trees. This flashlight was much easier to carry than the one you keep in your [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack]; and could be invaluable if you started searching even darker places, such as [The Storm Tunnels] or inside larger buildings. You did not necessarily want to dwell on the other places it may be of use; caves or any deeper underground places, like car garages, but it would be doubly important for how you could carry it with a weapon ready. You hold it for a moment, backhanded with your other hand up and over, pointing. It would be comfortable enough to shoot your [Strange 9] in the dark like this. Bigger guns might need to have it secured, but you have [Assorted Adhesive] to make that happen (provided its a worthwhile use of the limited glue and tape available).

>>3725551
The [Stranger Journal] shows '6:01 am' when you arrive back at [The Projects]. The wisps of light once again claw at the horizon, but you've made good enough time. Upon arriving at your [Machine Shed], you take a moment to inspect the skyline in the brightening light. Over the edge of the world [The Blue Sun], [The Wantless] was waiting only for a moment more to step back on stage. If [The Witless] was to be believed, it was mortal, it could be caught, fought and killed. Looking back over your [Machine Shed], you can't help but think you're going to need a little more space and help if you're going to be fighting a star. Still, you feel a small degree of optimism and hope.

This is replaced by terror and bewilderment, when you catch sight of some nebulous blob, climbing one of the [Downtown] skyscrapers. It crests the top of the building, stretches out long, finned wings and, as the first rays of the terrible, blasting sun finally crest the horizon. It basks, sizzling in the harsh light. It turns towards [The Projects], as if evening out a suntan and you catch sight of a shaggy, hair-covered face set with too many irregular, twitching and searching eyes. You
do not wait to see if it will see you in the dark, instead hustling for the door of the [Machine Shed], shutting it tight behind you, safe once again in the familiar dark.

If things like this [Sun Bather] existed in the dark recesses of this strange city; it may be important to start small and work your way up. You greet [Spectacled Rags] as you enter and begin to discuss first steps.

- - -

No options for tonight as we close up. I wanted to take a brief moment to thank those who've been following so far and ask a few critical questions.

First things first; has this format and writing been interesting? If anything strikes you as less than ideal, please let me know. If my writing is sloppy or in some way in need of improvement I'd love to try and improve my material.

Secondly; is there continued interest in this setting and quest? Part of the reason I started this was to see how well I could do in the format and so far so good, but if there's more demand for something in a different field I'd happily give it a shot. I have some setting notes penciled in for a superhero focused quest or some Escaflowne rip, but if there's plenty of interest to keep this going I'll happily do my best.

Finally, any other opinions or commentary would be greatly appreciated. We'll pick back up again a little early on Monday 8/6 at 7 EST to get some options out there as well as let you know what [Spectacles] has been up to while you were out.

Thank you again very much for playing.

>>3725558
*Tuesday, excuse me, Tuesday 8/6

>>3725558
>has this format and writing been interesting?
Yes, I really like it.
>is there continued interest in this setting and quest?
Yep! There's a lot of world exploration to do and mystery to uncover, it's really interesting.
>any other opinions or commentary would be greatly appreciated.
I like it, the concept and genre aren't something I normally see on qst, most is just some kind of fan-quest or cape-quest, so it's pretty unique. What genre would you call this, anyway? Horror/mystery/survival?

Thanks for running!

>>3725568
I have to agree with most of this, can't wait till monday

>>3725558
>has this format and writing been interesting?
Its fine.
>is there continued interest in this setting and quest?
Cool Silent hill style game. Curious to see how the protagonist will kill the sun.
>>3725568
>What genre would you call this, anyway?
Horror/mystery/survival/adventure?

>>3725585
>>3725568
Agreed im very excited for the continuation

>>3725558
The cold glow of blue light slipping into the [Shed] was at first alarming, but upon closer inspection, the presence of a haphazardly set-aside ladder and [Spectacles] sitting unconcerned at a work bench. The bundle of rags you'd found in the [Scrapyards] was somewhat changed in your absence; still wrapped head to toe in strips of dark cloth, but now form fitting and neat, like some kind of budget ninja. Little pieces of underlying cloth peeked out in places, but except for their hands and their shiny glasses they're showing nearly no skin. In spite of this, they're just as androgynous as ever... you wonder if that's really an important thing to worry about.

"You got back a little later than I expected." They say, standing up. You hear a click and notice a slight limp as they walk; tracing down their leg you see metal, they seem to have some kind of rusty leg brace on now. You wonder if you missed it on the run from the [Screaming Eyes], but -noting your glance- they explain, "I hope you don't mind I made this up first. It's an old injury, but I've reinjured it a couple of time. This will hopefully keep it in place." It looks sturdy enough.

"No problem. I haven't been able to figure out much use for a lot of the stuff here yet." You explain as you start setting out your haul, "You've been keeping yourself busy?"

"As much as I can be. I helped myself to your tools." They walk back around to the other side of the [Shed] where you'd been keeping most of the junk. Looking over, you understand why they'd spoiled your complete blackout: In spite of the dangerous beam of light that now drills into the floor, the Shed is much easier to navigate with just a little bit of light. Careful not to look at it too closely, it seems they tore some shutters off of the AC vents and rigged them up to be rotated open or shut. When [Wantless] passes overhead and past the skylight, it will probably stop giving you any usable light, but you have the work light for that, and really that would be time best spent resting for the next night.

[Spectacles] picks up the [Stopped Clockgun] from the counter, only you notice it's shorter. The barrel isn't cut quite evenly, but without the bend, the [Sawnoff Clockgun] will probably work. "I hadn't expected that to be that easy."

>>3728929
"It wasn't." [Spectacles] practically spits. "The tickers... er... [Clock Soldiers] you called them; their stuff is pretty weird. Like it all looks like normal stuff, guns and knives and body armor and everything, but the materials all are wrong." They lean over and pull from under the table some bulky contraption. "Wrong doesn't mean you can't work with it though; A lot of their metals get really brittle when you heat them up. It took more fuel than I would have liked but if you get it nice and red hot. you can get it to split more or less evenly." The contraption has pipes bent in a bunch of roundabout ways to a few nozzles, two of your [Naptha Canisters] are cinched in feeding it. You could probably carry and aim this [Dangerous-Looking Burner] in both hands if you wanted to, but it looks mostly like it's designed to be used on a table, if any part of it looks to be designed to do anything other than spew fire and, maybe, explode. It's got other parts that look like they were from a bunch of the broken looking scraps lying about, including an rusted through airbrush can.

"Is that safe?" You ask.

"Absolutely not. Don't open any of the valves unless you're ready to light it. If you tip it forward before it lights you'll light liquid instead of the vapor."

With safety instructions complete, [Spectacles] holds up the [Cracked Helmet], sans crack. "I glued this back together. Once again, ticker stuff... you know what I mean... it acts strange. I had some model glue and it melted the edges back together fine. The missing bits I filled with epoxy. I could probably have done more, but I'm running you out of [Assorted Adhesives].

They're right, the box is nearly empty with all they've used. Still, the [Mended Helmet] looks much sturdier; at least they've not been wasting any of it.

"Good work." You say with a nod, "I have another project for you." You produce the [Pocked Rip Saw] from your [Spacious Duffel]. "Think you can slap this on the end of a pole?"

They seem to take a moment to measure their response, "That depends; you know that's going to be really heavy. And it's going to probably use up the rest of the tape."

You nod, "Heavy is good."

"Heavy is awkward." They say, shaking their head, "But you might be on to something. Let me know which side you want sharpened. I could grind down both, but it'd be twice as dangerous in every sense."

>>3728934
"I'll let you know." You say as you hand the [Pocked Rip Saw] over. "I had a few questions about something I ran into today. You mentioned an [Eyeless] earlier, right?" They nod as you continue, "I ran into something at my old place; called itself the [Witless]."

[Spectacles] takes a moment and shrugs, "I've never met that one. I've heard about a few others, but I only ever found [The Eyeless]. I don't know if calling them gods or something is inappropriate, but they seem to be able to do some pretty miraculous stuff." They sit back down at the workbench with a sigh, "Seem a bit more like devils to me. I was hanging with a group up until they cut a deal with the [Nameless]." They scowl, "It didn't seem like it was going to end well for any of us, so I dipped. I hadn't really leveled with them about [The Eyeless] either, so talking it out wasn't really an option." They pause before starting to put together some pieces of pipe, "They're dead or worse, if I had to guess. These weirdos don't seem to make much sense, they all have stuff they want and they're not really forthcoming."

"[The Witless] was asking me to get rid of [The Blue Sun]." You explain.

[Spectacles] stops working and looks back at you. "You can do that?"

"They certainly seemed to think I could; maybe not just me, but that it was possible. Called it [The Wantless], said it was a lot like him or the others."

After a moment [Spectacles] turns back to their work, "I don't believe it, but I don't know what to believe these days. Nobody I saw ever said anything about it, but that doesn't mean it can't be done."

They say nothing more and you take it as an end of the conversation. There was things to do for tomorrow; so you settle in to helping out with making your new weapon and planning the next day.

Regarding the polearm...
>Have [Spectacles] grind the saw-side
>Have [Spectacles] grind the flat side
>Grind both sides of the blade

The plan for Day 9 will be...
Who:
>Go alone
>Go with [Spectacled Rags]
Where:
>Travel to [Downtown]
>Travel to [Highway]
>Travel to [Parks] or [Forest Maw]
>Explore [Projects]
>Travel to [Scrapyard]
>Travel to [Storm Tunnels]
>Travel to [Suburbs]
>Travel to [Waterfront] using [Reinforced Bicycle]

If you decide to go with [Spectacled Rags], they'll carry and use gear as you see fit. Ignoring crafting materials you have:
>Weapons: [Strange 9], [Bundle of Wrenches], [Sawnoff Clockgun], and your new [Pipe Poleaxe-saw]

>Apparel: [Black Balaclava], [Mended Helmet], [Heavy Leather Jacket], [Ski Goggles], [Large Spectacles]

>Gear: [Naptha Canister] (1 remaining), [Rugged Mag Light], [Egg Timer], [Homemade First Aid Kit], [Dangerous-Looking Burner], [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack], [Stranger Journal]

>Storage: [Spacious Duffel] (large capacity), [Bundled Canvas] (small capacity)

If you have any special course of action in mind, go ahead and detail it as part of the day's planning.

>>3728937
>grind flat side we can use the saw side for saw things.

>ask specitcaled rags if they woud like to come with or rest

>go to highway to test out out theory with the polearm

> us use poleaxe and strange 9
> spectacle use wrenches and clockgun

>spectacles can use the clock helm amd lestwr jacket as they have the closer range melee weapon. Otherwise we shold ware it with the backclava and goggles

>bring maglight first aid. Empty out the backpack and bring that as storage amd duffel. We can drop both if we end up in combat.

>ask spectacles if they think killing the sun is a good idea.

>>3729163
Pretty much agree with this but with some changes. Spectacles has that injury and I wouldn't want to aggravate it, so I would suggest leaving him behind or he could slow us down.
We don't need to wear the balaclava and goggles though, we can leave them behind. And we shouldn't empty our backpack out because it has the "assorted junk for assorted junky purposes", but maybe make sure that we leave behind anything non-essential for our task.
What happens if we replace our Green Jacket, from which we derive our name, with the Leather Jacket? We shouldn't wesr both at once though.
For gear, also bring the journal because it has the clock on it. Remember to read the journal later. Also bring the egg timer, it could be useful if surrounded by blanks.
Tell Spectacles about the Sunbather.
I think we should check out the downtown.

>>3729163
>>3729422
>>3729163

I usually try to wait for three responses when I can, I guess today was too slow. I'll put an update up sometime tomorrow to make up for it and pick back up at 8pm.

>>3728937
>Have [Spectacles] grind the flat side
>Go with [Spectacled Rags]
>Travel to [Highway]

>>3729163
>>3729422
>>3729516
After a few hours finishing work, you and [Spectacled Rags] complete the [Pipe Poleaxe-saw]. Upon conferring with them, you decide to grind down the flat side into a rough chopping blade; leaving the saw side intact in case you need it for its intended purpose. The result is a huge and heavy weapon that takes both hands, but affords you with extensive reach. It's heavy enough you think you can probably do plenty of damage just letting it fall on someone; so you store it leaned blade-down just in case.

Checking your [Stranger Journal] you find you have roughly seven hours until sundown, so you bid [Spectacles] sleep on the cot and you make yourself comfortable on rags; using your [Mostly Full Mascot Backpack] as a pillow. You yank the cable attached to the skylight and the shutters slam shut. You might want to be more gentle in the future, but it works wonderfully.

A dreamless sleep gives way to night, and [Spectacles] wakes you with a gentle tap on the heel. "Showtime." they murmur.

You nod and you both set about gearing up. "Can you move okay with that?" You ask, gesturing to their leg-brace.

They nod, "As I said, it's an old injury, it's just a precaution. Speaking of precautions, run by me again the plan for today."

You heft up the [Pipe Poleaxe-saw], "We're going hunting. I want to see if we can poach from the [Spike Heads]."

"Hunting..." They say thoughtfully, "Ambitious... dangerous... not actually a bad idea though. I can probably show you something interesting while we're at it." They sling the [Sawnoff Clockgun] over their shoulder. You hand them also the [Bundle of Wrenches], and they take it reluctantly. You offer them the [Mended Helmet] and they shake their head; though they don't refuse the [Leather Jacket].

With that in mind, you go ahead and wear the [Helmet]; partly for the protection, but also partially to put their work to use. You think you catch what could be a smile from them, but it's hard to tell. "You look a little like some kind of knight."

You shrug, "I'd feel a lot more like one with something a bit sturdier about the chest."

They nod, "I have a few ideas. I'll keep my eyes open." You're sure they would, catching a glint of red as their gaze slipped around the rims of their [Large Spectacles].

With that, you set out from the [Machine Shed], carrying only what you really need for the task.

You arrive at [The Highway] in good time. You sparingly used the [Rugged Maglight] to confirm your footing, but now that you were closer, you hand it off. You'll need both hands to use your polearm and it's best to have your partner on lookout. If you find another light, maybe you could strap it to the [Sawnoff Clockgun] so they could see and shoot at once. There was always something to be done or improved.

>>3731000
In the dark, the silhouettes of nearby buildings are difficult to make out; some were damaged and had rough pieces of remaining wall jutting towards the sky, while others had debris or other objects that made them equally incongruous. As distinctive as [The Spike Heads] may be, picking one out against the backdrop would be hard. You decide it'd be best to work through what you know; they set traps, so you set about looking for them.

Climbing back into the truck you'd checked before, you find the plastic trunk sitting where you'd left it. There's no sign of the tendril-like tongues. Cautiously opening back up the box reveals nothing; the box had been emptied.

[Spectacles] follows at a short distance, leaning up against the side of the truck as they speak, "Are you sure you've seen them here?"

You nod, just then recalling another important matter. "You know a bit about those weirdos, but what about the monsters. Are there any that run out during the day?"

"That's suicide isn't it?" They murmur, incredulity and doubt painting it rhetorically. "No, I don't know about anything that's out and about during the day."

"I know I didn't imagine it at least." You hop off the back of the truck. Suddenly the car in front of you, a small sedan, flings itself off the edge of the road with a metallic crunch. Both of you freeze.

Before you had time enough to imagine some invisible assailant, you finally catch sight of familiar glistening black tubules. The spiny orb that sits on the far end of them shakes a little, as the rest of its tongues retract. You'll have to tread carefully; between this and the incident in [The Suburbs] they've shown to be unpredictable and wily.

How do you want to procede?
>Search specifically for a baited trap like before
>Look for trip-lines; that seems to be the most likely culprit for the vehicle, and may have been how you saw the [Blank] get caught before
>Disregard the [Spike Heads] that are already set up and try to find one moving
>Have you or [Spectacles] turn the game around, bait out one by catching their attention and attack it then
>Another course of action

>>3731005
>search for baited traps. Worth seeing if the supplies are real.

>>3731184
This

>>3731005
>Search specifically for a baited trap like before
>>Look for trip-lines; that seems to be the most likely culprit for the vehicle, and may have been how you saw the [Blank] get caught before

>>3731184
>>3731346
>>3731554
I'll write up an update 8/8 at 8 EST, in light of the late hour.

In light of recent sessions I'm making a slight change in the format; I'm going to from now on make updates close voting in this priority:
- 3 or more responses, 30 minutes from an update
- any lower number of responses 1 hour from an update
- any response greater than 1 hour from an update

In short: A large number of respondents with close voting every half hour, but if there is a response voting will close within an hour.

It's nobody's fault if there's less interest or responses on a given day or time, but in the interest of keeping things moving, this seems sensible. I will also try to ensure that updates only halt at substantial decision points with more choices if necessary.

Thank you and I will see you tomorrow.

>>3731606
Sounds good more updates are always appricated. Also there are less votes as we are no longer bumping with updates as the thread has been alive for more then 7 days. Your going to need to make a new thread soon

>>3731554
>>3731346
>>3731184
"Have you dealt with these before?" You ask at a whisper.

[Spectacles] nods, but then shakes their head, "Dealt with is the wrong word. I've been able to avoid them. Taking the fight to them never seemed like a great idea on my own."

"Okay, so here's the plan then. I'm going to keep looking for one of their traps; you watch me and hold the light on me. Most importantly stay put and watch your feet."

"Then what?"

You smack the blade of your hand into your other palm and [Spectacles] nods. It wasn't the best plan you think, but it was a plan.

Illuminated by the [Rugged Maglight]; you can focus on keeping the [Pipe Poleaxe-saw] at the ready. The light is strong, and thankfully the [Spike Heads] seem as blind as they look. A hose-sized line is clearly defined in the light at shin level and you cautiously step over it. It twitches briefly, but does nothing further as you trace it along the road. One or two others are visible, glistening in the light; you notice none of them intersect, and where one is too close to the other, it awkwardly squirms a few inches further away. Surely if one caught the other, they'd fling each other off of their vantage points in a senseless tug-of-war.

You finally find the end of the rope you'd been following, slipping up the body of a European import car; the kind of tiny rounded things that do relatively well in a roll-over or crash. The open convertible canopy probably didn't do its owner any favors though.

As expected, the line snakes up to the trunk at the rear. Without a key, you wouldn't hope to open it up without a crowbar, but with how the other cars were all opened up, and the lock on the other was easily defeated, you crack your weapon against the back of the car's body, and the trunk pops open with a light 'thunk' sound.

Your light moves some as [Spectacles] gets a better vantage point on the hood of the truck. You told him to stay put, but the light is much more helpful from up there; so there seems no sense complaining. You do wish you had some kind of radio or working cellular phone to coordinate. You might have to work out some hand-signs.

Gently you lift open the boot; whispers in the back of your head urge you to take everything you can find. Frankly, you'd be sorely tempted even without the creeping nostalgia: Organized like some kind of gameshow display an opened [Case of Pineapple Grenades] sit. Plastic brown bags of [MRE Meals] are scattered messily around it along with something strange you don't recognize. It's like a ball of copper wire loosely bundled like a tumbleweed around a blue-green golfball, or perhaps an egg. With a dry rattle, the uneven orb in the center shakes briefly amid its springy thin supports before stilling. It reminds you a little of the [Spike Heads], but the [Rattling Tumbleweed] is an enigma to say the least. You wouldn't believe it was real even if it wasn't in some kind of monstrous mouse-trap; but you'd have an answer soon enough.

>>3733297
Briefly throwing [Spectacles] a thumbs up-- hoping the meaning was plain enough-- you heft up your weapon, and with your full weight swing the roughly ground edge down on the tentacle. It faces virtually no resistance as it cuts through flesh and buries itself a quarter of an inch into the concrete with a crunch.

This may have been a mistake. Immediately a reverberating howl goes through the air; like some huge dog yowling through a long metal pipe. You turn and see the [Spike Head], presumably the one you just cut, seizing and shaking its head as its tentacles retract. For a creature you took for nearly mute, it sounds furious and loud. With a leap it clears from the nearby building to the overpass and begins prowling up the line of vehicles towards its severed tongue, and you. You prepare to reposition, but in the moment you look for a place to go and look back, you've lost sight of it. A gibbering murmur sounds between the vehicles, but you can't see it at all.

Looking back in the trap, you find it hasn't changed. The traps it sets contain real items, or at least this one did. You slam shut the [Case of Pinapple Grenades], shoving them into your [Spacious Duffel]. The [MRE Meals] are too spread out to gather them quickly, and you're not sure you'd have the space, so you roll the [Rattling Tumbleweed] into your bag as well, prodding it in with the blade of your weapon. You'll find gloves or rags to pick it back out later. The sound of grumbling gets closer, so you begin beating a quiet, but urgent retreat.

The light from [Spectacles]' [Rugged Maglight] drops as they shoulder the [Sawnoff Clockgun]. As quiet as you can you make your way back towards them, but you aren't close enough to stop them before a whistling shot goes over your head. You turn back in time only to see a bloom of viscera as your pursuer's spiny head pops like a stuck balloon. The headless body staggers for a moment before slumping forward, half collapsing, half dissolving as it hits pavement.

This, you are certain, was a mistake. At once several vehicles jump and buck as sticky tongues tear off of them, and the air is filled with more murmuring barks. Two-- no three more [Spike Heads] leap onto the road and you break into a jog to regroup with your partner.

"I've got em." [Spectacles] says, turning to aim once again at the two closer ones, blocking your way back towards the exit.

"Bad idea. We have to move; they already heard your first shot."

They hesitate, then reluctantly step down off the hood. "So next plan?"

>>3733301
'We go back to the [Machine Shed]' you nearly say; but you stop yourself. Why would you go directly into the waiting maw of more monsters? They slow, as if waiting for something. Waiting for you to do what they told you to. "They're trying to get us to backtrack. Walk back to places they know better; places that are more familiar."

"So?" [Spectacles] says with a scowl, "It's not like we have another way to go."

You grit your teeth, "I don't think we have a choice but to fight; they'll follow us back to the [Shed], maybe even trap it."

"Well then," Spectacles points their finger like a gun, miming recoil as they point to one and then the other, "Bang, bang."

"We can't risk more of them hearing and coming." You shoulder your [Pipe Poleaxe-saw] for emphasis. "Not if we can't help it. I'll clobber them, and you back me up if they're stubborn."

The third [Spike Head] slinks closer from behind; a pincer maneuver in slow motion. You can't afford to wait... unless you intend to attack the one and run to relative safety. You wouldn't have tried it before for the pile-up of cars, but you could also try and get past to where [The Highway] leads into [Downtown].

"Plan B." You say, "We lead them away and lose them." You point past the spiny form towards the [Downtown].

"Well make up your mind." [Spectacles] grunts.

You do, choosing to...
>Fight your way back down to [The Projects]
>Attack the lone one, headed towards [Downtown]
>Another course of action

>>3733306
>Attack the lone one, headed towards [Downtown]

>>3733324
+1

>>3733324
Support


>>3733306
Next time lets try following the line and axeing em

>>3733324
>>3733354
>>3733486
"We go [Downtown]." You say, as much convincing yourself as [Spectacles].

With only a moment acknowledgement you break into a run towards the lone [Spike Head]. It perks up as you approach, but you don't wait to see what it will do. Raising your [Pipe Poleaxe-saw] you swing down with all your strength, and are rewarded with a garbled and clipped squeal. The [Spike Head]'s skull splits, no apparent skull to protect its insides; and while you're sprayed with its ichor, your [Mended Helment] keep the worst out of your eyes. It doesn't keep the tarrish gunk from splashing into your mouth though, as you suppress a gag and keep running.

[Spectacles] keeps pace as you run, but as you approach the wall of cars, they break away. You don't have time to argue as you begin to climb, and thankfully they return to your stained vision shortly. "Keep up!" you spit.

Getting over the cars is not as difficult as expected. All the precariously perched vehicles must have slipped or fallen to their lowest and most stable points; there wasn't much even a loaded down man of under 200 pounds could do to shift them worse, though you still take care not to put your limbs anywhere you could be pinned. [Spectacles] is right with you as you half climb, half slide down the other side.

You expect the other [Spike Heads] to follow, but after a moment there's no sign of them. As you think about it, you wonder if there's a perverse logic to them: They're trappers, do they not know how to chase? Even when the one was slinking up to you, it was because you attacked their lure. Without harder evidence you're skeptical, but manipulating these monsters based on their rules could give you a strong advantage in later confrontations. For now, you set aside the idea, you have more pressing concerns.

[Downtown] is eerie and disconcerting. The fog you'd seen previous days seems to linger between the buildings; your only way down is to drop from the highway into rubble below; but the vapor makes it difficult to see. In another life, it would have been always been a hive of bustling activity and noise. Today it is devoid of movement, but still noise dominates the streets. Moans and creaking break through the air, but return is not an option.

As you turn to [Spectacles], they are actually the ones to break the silence, "Be careful." They say. You nod, a tacit reciprocation.

Dropping to the street level isn't as hard as you'd think; the piled rubble is nearly ground to gravel. Without meaning to you've nearly slid to the ground just from its apex. Once you're certain [Spectacles] is following you, you begin to wander into the fog, the only light you can see, from the height of one of the battered skyscrapers.

- - -

This is a good point to continue to the next thread. I'll write it up and link it in here.

See you soon.

>>3733545
I burned through three hours writing and drinking and I'm not done. See you slightly less soon.

>>3733964
Haha sounds good

We are live on Thread #2
>>3735641