Devil Went Down to Harkin's
Devil Went Down to Harkin's
Summary: A group of prisoners come across those holed up at Harkin's, looking for some food to steal.
Date: PHD010 (29 Apr 2009)
Related Logs: None
Players:
Homer..Tessa..Ethan..Damon..
Players:
Achilles..Achapri..Angelica..Anthem..NPCs..

Harkins Lodge - Scorpia

This lodge is tucked into the side of a hill, the roof extending back right into the soil behind it. The trees are thicker here and provide few glimpses to the sky above. Out front, the trail winds up towards the door, the forest floor here is cleared of fallen branches and cleaned up of other woodland debris. A small fire-pit is ringed with gray stones from a nearby creek and a rotating spit is stuck into the ground, crossing the center. Logs are lain at the edge for simple seating.

The lodge itself is constructed from some of the very same wood that grows around it, blending the building cleanly into the terrain of the hillside. At one end of the building, a huge stone chimney rises just past the roofline. A long porch runs across the length of the front, with multiple wooden animals carved out of tree trunks and standing in various positions. Wooden furniture covers the rest of the porch to provide visitors with someplace to rest out of the weather. A couple of large picture windows are fitted into either end of the front wall. A wooden sign, painted in a subdued red, is set into the roof proclaiming that this as 'Harkins Hunting Lodge' to all those who approach.

Just in front of the Lodge, rifle laid across his lap, Homer is lounging on a log. He's got what looks like it might be a cigarette at first in his right hand. Except it's too fat for that. And the smell is too sweet for tobacco. He puffs it a few times, then smiles and looks up into the rather blue sky.

The figure that emerges suddenly from the wooded path is hardly a threatening one. Unkempt hair, ragged clothes, a pack slung over both shoulders— Tessa Sideris has seen better days. There's dirt streaked across her face and hands, her clothes muddy. As quickly as she may have been moving before, however, she stops dead in her tracks at the sight of the man lounging with the rifle in his lap. Both hands fly up, her blue eyes wide, but she says nothing at first.

Homer keeps on smiling, though his eyes do fall on Tessa Sideris' face. Blinking, his smile sobers up and he pushes to his feet. The weapon drops to the ground and he eyes the woman, or possible slender man hobo, with a really intense stare, trying to focus. "You have /beautiful/ eyes." Okay, that's random. For his part, he doesn't look too scruffy. Access to a shaving blade helps with that. In fact, he looks like a preppy college kid who suddenly found himself in the middle of the woods. Back to the moment at hand: "Are you okay?" He holds the hand without the blunt out tenatively.

Random, indeed. Homer's words seem to catch Tessa off-guard, her hands twitching once, though she doesn't lower them at first. "Oh." A compliment wasn't exactly what she was expecting, after all. For a few seconds more she regards him as if she were a baby dear staring down a hungry wolf. She looks like she might flee. Then, tentatively, she steps forward and pulls one hand down, reaching out for his. "No, I don't think I am. I mean, I am. I'm fine. But I have no idea where I am." Pause. "Or what's going on."

"You look— Wow, is that smell you?" Homer grins, in a friendly teasing sort of way, and grips Tessa's hand. "Sorry. The chamalla is making me giggly. Uh. I'm Homer. And this is Old Man Harkins' Wilderness Lodge of Awesomeness. He was kind enough to take us all in after the… well. The bombs fell." Letting go of the woman's hand, he slowly bends for the rifle, picking it up, though he aims it at the ground, not even bringing it up past waist height.

"Bombs." Statement, not question, though her voice bears enough bewilderment to suggest that this is all new to Tessa. "Right. Okay. Bombs. That's what I saw." When Homer pulls away to retrieve the rifle, she turns her head as if to check on the suggestion that she might smell bad. "…frak me. That is me." Ducking her head, she steps forward, suddenly conscious of how she must look to him. "Tessa," she offers sheepishly. "I, uh. I've been out camping for a while."

"Yeah. The world ending," Homer says with a brief frown before offering the hand-rolled smoking object towards Tessa. "Might make you feel better?" So considerate. "You can stay with us if you like. Got a Marine and a cop in our group and a couple of us regular folks know how to shoot, too."

Scrunching her nose, Tessa shakes her head at the proffered drug. "No thanks," she murmurs, her voice and expression making it clear that this hasn't quite sunk in yet. …at all. She manages a fleeting smile at the offer of a place to stay, shifting the pack on her back. "I could use a sh— wait." Here we go. "Back up. Bombs? World ending?" Those last two words come out as more of a squeak. "Is this a joke?"

"Um." Homer blinks once, obviously thinking hard about how exactly to approach this delicate question. "Somebody bombed all of Colonies. Major cities are all gone. Billions of people dead." Yeah, that's delicate. "You sure you don't want a hit?" He looks down at the blunt in his hand and sighs, snuffing it out against a tree. "Sorry."

"I…" Tessa, on the other hand, blinks several times. Studying his face for any hint that he might be joking - and finding none - she sucks in a deep breath. "…I'm sure. You're not joking, are you?" All at once, she looks like she might faint as she stumbles to the side a step. She drops her pack to the ground with a heavy thud, turning to look over her shoulder at the path she followed to get here. "I think I need to sit down." And this looks like as good a place as any, she decides, as she settles down onto the ground.

Day eases into twilight, and Scorpia seems to still. Even the breeze has died in the leaves, and everything becomes deafeningly quiet. It's only after night has fallen that it becomes downright eerie, no crickets singing or owls hooting in the distance. Perhaps it's the fact that there are not other natural noises that the sound of a twig snapping in half comes across like a gun shot crack.

"I'm not joking. Wish I was. I'm actually really good with jokes, usually, but no." Homer hefts the hunting rifle, holding it against his shoulder as he comes to stand beside Tessa. "I needed alone time too, when I first figured it out." Sighing, he turns to go, before stopping suddenly and peering out into the night. "You hear that?"

Swinging her head around sharply at the sound of the twig snapping, Homer can bet that Tessa heard it, too. Still, she doesn't push up to her feet, still a touch too shellshocked to quite register that something out there might actually be dangerous. Lowering her voice, keeping a steady, wide-eyed gaze on the woods, she asks, "What was that?"

Apparently, it's nothing. Maybe just some frightened animal fleeing the devestation that hasn't succomb to radiation poisoning yet. The trees go back to their stillness, the dark almost oppressive where the meager lights they are using in the lodge don't dare tread. The night goes back to being still. That is until a voice cuts through the quiet, almost too close to the pair to be comfortable. "Well what have we hear? Two cockroaches that survived doomsday…"

"Tessa. Run. Head for the Lodge," Homer says sharply, but as lowly as he can manage, waving a hand towards the dim lights of said structure in the distance. "I'll be right behind you." And he is, til he trips and hits his knee on something in the dark. Some cursing with a Leonisian twang fills the darkness.

If Tessa had any lingering doubt that Homer was telling the truth, the chill wandering down her spine as the voice reaches her ears quickly dispells that notion. She's on her feet fast, yanking one strap of her pack to pull it up from the ground. She doesn't even deign to respond to his order, she just books it for the lodge. It hasn't even registered yet that Homer has tripped and fallen. Or maybe she doesn't care.

A figure seems to materialize out of the woods, not that he was well hidden, he just went unnoticed. "Aw, now what kinda welcoming party is that? Way I sees it, we're the last of humanity, shouldn't you be greeting me with open arms?" It's a man, roughly six feet tall dressed in grey coveralls that are commonly assigned to prisoners. The numbers marching acrossed his chest is probably another good indication. The worst part? He's not alone. Behind him is another man, similarly dressed, and a woman who is wearing clothes two sizes too small for her frame. Around the woman's neck is a little pink collar with a dog bone shaped tag on it. The matching leash, however, is tethered around the neck of a third man, who's being pulled roughly behind her like a beaten and battered puppy. Ethan.

"Good god, what is this, one of my family's reunions? You guy's have Uncle Zeke somewheres behind you in a barrel with suspenders?" Homer calls, peering into the darkness and eyeing the two coverall'ed men and that woman. "Please don't come any closer, thanks." And up comes his hunting rifle. Apparently when he tumbled, he did himself a favor and didn't drop it.

As she reaches the porch of the lodge, Tessa doesn't quite do what she was told; she stops here, dropping her pack once more, to look back over her shoulder. Muttering beneath her breath, her hands curling into fists at her sides, she turns away from the lodge to turn her attention back to Homer and the posse. She nearly calls out her new acquaintance's name, before it occurs to her that might be a mistake.

The leader of the group swings his own shotgun off his shoulder. "Now I wouldn't go doing anything stupid. See, this is the way it's gonna go. We're gonna come in there and take whatever gods damned food you have in there, we're gonna have our way with your lady friend, there. Then you're going to become Bunny's new pet, 'cuz I think she's bored of this one. Put down the gun." And his get's cocked.

"Okay. For one, Cletus? May I call you Cletus? I know we just met and all, but I feel like I've known you my whole damned life." Homer doesn't move from where he is on the ground, weapon raised at the man who just spoke. "Alright now, Cletus. Where were we?… Oh, right." And he squeezes the trigger, aiming for the man's center of mass.

The puppy, aka Ethan, aka fancy dressed pretty boy, is not having a good time of things, by the looks of him. This probably isn't quite what he would've meant by a threesome. With the amount of dirt and blood covering him, it's difficult to tell that he bought his boots at a ritzy shop in Caprica City, or his shirt at an exclusive mail-order boutique on Picon. In fact, he looks downright not-pretty at the moment, and about ready to take a trip facefirst into the dirt. Which.. he promptly does.

Damon arrives from the Harkins Lodge - Main Room.
Angelica arrives from the Harkins Lodge - Main Room.
Anthem arrives from the Harkins Lodge - Main Room.
Achilles arrives from the Harkins Lodge - Main Room.

Though she doesn't much care for the man's suggestion that anyone is going to 'have their way' with her in the near future, Tessa is unarmed and ultimately about as dangerous as a goldfish. She is acutely aware of the lodge behind her and how there may just be someone inside who can help. Maybe. Flinching as Homer fires the rifle, she closes her eyes, nails digging into her palms.

First out the door, Damon is crouch-walking towards the sound of the gunshots. Moving towards one of the trees to overlook the area, not far from the door, he has his pistol out and trained low, safety off. Eyes raised and scanning for the purpose of the gunshots, he takes a position where he feels he has a little bit of cover.

It's probably a good thing Ethan just bit dirt, as the gunshot from Homer's shotgun goes a touch wide and doesn't take out the stomach of 'Cletus' as intended. There are two men in prison issue grey jumpsuits with numbers marching acrossed their chest and a woman poured into clothing two sizes too small for her. A dog collar is around her neck, with a little bone shaped tag attached that it doesn't take much imagination to think it reads 'Strudel' on it. The pink leash is attached to Ethan, who is face down on the ground, bloodied and beaten.

The lot of them are just off in the treeline from the cabin, with Homer laid out between, not having gotten up after he tripped. At least Tessa has made it to the porch before the first gunshot rings out. 'Cletus' seems to be the talker of the group. "Well FRAK YOU!" He shouts, nudging the others back to get some cover in the trees. Bunny tugs on her leash, trying to get her pet to move back to safety. Cletus has a shot gun and the other two have hand guns. And they don't look friendly. Cletus takes a return pot shot at Homer, but his aim is even worse than the prone man.

Ethan is, meanwhile, doing his best impression of a log on the ground there. A pretty log, but a log. Attached to a leash. The indignity of the situation is matched only by the discomfort of it, as he's bleeding from more than a few nasty gashes and.. yeah. His leg kinda looks broken, given the angle it's at. The tug from Strudel earns a grunt and a feeble sort of shuffling and slipping in the mud, but no real progress is made.

Just behind Damon comes the much shorter Angel, looking just a touch wide-eyed as she carries a pistol in her hands - the grip proper. She's keeping low, which clearly is NOT hard.

Anthem frowns back at Angel. "Stay behind me, Angel, and take care of Miss Graystone if something happens. Don't try to fight if it goes south." He has a rifle ready as he moves towards the sound of the shotgun blast- at least where he thinks it came from. Then shots are fired and he hurries up, looking for a target.

The back exit is always far more easy to access than the front, especially when there is a lot of chaos going on out front. So out the backdoor goes Achilles into the woods as he moves about.

The Battle Maiden had been out by the well, half-armed as she labored over a reservoir for non-irradiated water. A disturbance near the base had her hefting her quiver over her back and shield onto her shoulder, taking up her bow and fitting an arrow to a string as she advances— more quickly as she hears gunshots.

"Well that was bracing!" Homer shouts at 'Cletus' as the man misses and is missed in return. The shot hits the dirt near him and scatters debris, maybe a little dirt, but otherwise doesn't hurt him. He aims his rifle again, this time lowering his aim. Yes, he's going for the crotch shot. Not moving from his spot on the ground, he squeezes the trigger again. "A little to the left, motherfrakker."

Another shot, and Tessa flinches again at the sound. If she's aware of the would-be rescue team's arrival, she certainly makes no show of it. Tentatively, she cracks an eye open and looks to where Homer last was— and still is, it seems. Time to move! Moving backwards, slowly so as not to draw notice, she starts to edge towards the door.

"Shit, boy." Cletus exclaims, as Homer kills a very nice pine tree. The trio try to retreat a bit back into the forest as others pour out of the cabin, but this place is too juicy to give up entirely. Shelter, food, and apparently electricity are in high demand to risk getting your gnads shot off. Chubby bunny tugs again at the leash, but finally just leaves her pet Ethan there, tossing down the leash in favor of cover. It's Bunny that hears the bumble of of Achapri, and all at once, the three of them start firing.

Damon gets a quick look at the faces of the people involved and ducks back down behind his tree. Glancing about, he takes a moment to consider the situation in utter silence. A dead, expressionless look on his face, he starts to slide from his position towards the edge of the lodge, to slip off into the forest in an attempt to get around the group. Once away from the immediate view of the action, he stays low and moves fast, sliding one of the knives from the Lodge's kitchen from his belt. Gun in one hand, knife in the other, he moves to flank them.

From the porch comes Angelica the avenging Angel. She shoots! She…misses. She'd been aiming for Chubby, but the range or aim or angle is off and all she hits is dirt. "Come BACK here," she calls to the trio. As if they'd listen.

Anthem opens fire as he approaches, working the bolt of his rifle to quickly eject the spent shell and load a new bullet from the magazine. "THROW DOWN YOU WEAPONS AND SURRENDER," he bellows, drawing a bead on the next target and not taking his time about it.

Sneak sneak, creep creep, Achilles is on his feet. The man continues moving through the forest, stalking his prey in a very quiet and subtle way.

Achapri drops to one knee, slamming the edge of her shield into the dirt and drawing back her bowstring in the partial cover of her shield, letting loose a shaft toward the leash-bearing woman.

Luck? Well, it's still with Homer. Maybe not as strongly as he'd like, but it is. His shot goes wide, but Cletus' pegs him dead to rights with a blast of buckshot that hits him in the shoulder (hey, at least it's not in the face), prompting an immediate cry of pain… not blood curdling or anything, just an acknowledgement that 'yes, yes, I have been shot.' Wisdom overcoming his Courage, he tries to drag himself behind a tree for some cover. The pain in his shoulder, however, limits how far he gets.

Well! If she didn't know they were there before, she certainly does now. As new shots ring out from other directions - seemingly all around her, at that - Tessa drops to a crouch with her hands over her head. She has no way of knowing who to be afraid of and who to trust. "Homer!" she yells, just in case he thought she was long gone.

Cletus cries in pain as a round from Anthem's rifle tears through his side, the man immediately dropping a hand to the injury which is starting to well with blood that seeps through his fingers. He goes down roughly to his knees, but he's not out, he's hefting his shotgun to try and fire at Anthem who is charging them down. The second man, Roy, makes it through the berrage unharmed, and he's trying to peg down Angel. Chubby Bunny makes a squeal, that sounds like a rabbit being boiled alive, and when she turns and staggers, an arrow is protruding out of her shoulder. "Three little monkeys jumping on the bed…" Bunny chants, aiming for the woman with the shield.

Ethan stays down in the dirt as things escalate to a firefight. He has his wits about him enough to cover his head with his hands, and ball up somewhat so as to present a smaller target while bullets ping off the dirt.

Damon's been running low, keeping at a small sprint as he moves quietly through the forest alongside the battle. Shoving his pistol away and locking it down with the clasp. Gripping the knife in a backhanded manner, he opts to cause general mayhem in the ranks of the escaped convicts…as he suddenly turns direction and rights himself. Pounding forward, he sprints towards a log that's fallen and leaps off of it, knife held forward across his forearm as he makes for a flying slice and grab…of the girl named Bunny.

And off the porch a few steps Angelica goes, shooting at the one who is not-Cletus and not-Bunny. She's trying. The girl really, really is trying to defend her home. But shot number two goes wide.

"You're outgunned and outnumbered and injured. Surrender," Anthem growls as Cletus' buckshot rips around him. The marine is unscathed, but his Hawaiian shirt has some brand new rips and a curious hole or two. Assuming no immediate cessation of hostilities by the trio, he fires a second time at Cletus. The bolt click-clacks again as another round goes into the chamber.

Achilles tilts his head as he looks at the entanglement created by Damon charging in. He ponders for a few moments. Let the man deal and struggle with the pair, or deal with it the old fashioned way. Sighing, almost regretfully, Achilles pulls a potato peeler out of his pocket, one he had been using to clean vegetables and looking at it, snaps his wrist to wing the utensil towards Ol' Roy's back aiming for the weapon shoulder.

Achapri keeps stalwartly knelt half-behind her shield, readying another shot toward Bunny, then, as Damon obscures the shot with a lunge, she pivots a few degrees and lets a shaft fly toward the third gunsman.

Homer grunts in pain, abandoning the attempt to get to cover as a futile gesture. Yup. Sometimes the best defense is to continue the offense. Raising his rifle with his non-stiff arm, he settles it against his uninjured shoulder and puts his finger to the trigger, squeezing it while aimed at Roy. When Anthem orders the convict-types to surrender, he growls and shouts, "Frak that! Frakkers were talking about raping our people and leaving us to die. Kill them all!"

Wait, what? Kill them all? Tipping her chin up, Tessa opens her eyes once more and searches for Homer in the fray. Suddenly feeling very vulnerable, she shuffles backwards, dragging her pack with her, towards the door to the lodge.

It becomes readily apparent that the trio of convicts is doomed, but perhaps just a little too late for Cletus and his band of merry molesters. Anthem's shot rings true, catching the already crumbling Cletus in the throat. His last comment to this world is a gurgle as he slumps over backwards and stares glassy-eyed at night sky. Chubby Bunny isn't fairing to well, with people insistant on stabbing her, first with an arrow and now Damon is on her and his blade is sinking in deep. They do this weird little dance, and it's hard to tell who is leading. Her voice is eerily like a little child as she stares at him with wide open eyes, "Cavalera?" She asks, before trying to dislodge him by giving him a knock with her pistol. And Roy? Is starting to look like a pin cushion with a vegetable peeler sticking out of his shoulder, and now an arrow lodging into his chest. He has time to get off one last shot, aiming for Anthem.

Knife in Bunny already, Damon slams her against a tree with a collective grunt between the two of them. Dreadlocks flipping about as he does so, he manages to deflect most of her pistol whip attempt with another grunt. That…is going to leave a bruise in the morning. Twisting the knife and yanking it out of her chest with a splatter of blood, he yanks her to the floor and drops atop her, clamping his hand over her mouth. He leans down and quietly says something to her. "…shoulda stayed on the bus, bitch." He says with narrowed eyes. With that…he backhands the blade, sawing down on her throat. It's not going to be pretty, kids.

Ok, there's not a whole lot more Angel can do, so she slinks away from the porch, hurrying over toward Ethan, clearly convinced the others have it under control. Wound check!

Anthem lowers his rifle, frowning as Damon finishes off Bunny. "They don't teach that in the police academy," he drawls to himself. At a much more relaxed pace, he approaches the third criminal. "Is everyone okay?" he says a little louder.

Achapri slides her arm into the straps of her shield, and rises evenly, stepping forward, not seeming about to fire any further arrows, fixing Roy with an appraising stare.

When Homer sees the baddies start to go down as the cavalry rides in, he slumps a little, lowering his rifle and calls, "There was a girl. She wasn't one of them. Skinny, cute in a really smelly sort of way, anyone see her? She safe?" Man, his voice is starting to get hoarse from all the yelling. "Also, I might be shot," this is added a little more quietly.

It isn't until 'smelly' that Tessa registers that Homer is speaking about her. Why does she have to be known as— right, nevermind. "Safe as a kitten," she calls back, though her tone is far from convincing, nor is she making any particular effort to rush out and take care of him. Maybe she didn't hear him say he was shot.

There is no skinny girl over on this side of the fray. Only Chubby Bunny with her throat slit and her tongue comically lully out of the side of her mouth. Yup, she should of stayed on the bus. The pink collar around her neck is quickly staining with the blood that pumps out of her severed veins, pooling the ground beneath her and creating a nice smatter across Damon's face. Roy's crumpled over on his side, the sidearm still in his hand. When he realizes all is lost, what's one last shot at Anthem?

Damon, now covered in a good amount of bunny's blood, whips his arm out to splatter the blood off of the knife and try to whip-clean it a little bit. Rising off of the body, he turns to see Roy firing off into the distance. His face expressionless, he dispassionately steps over to the man and raises his boot in the air. Slamming the heel of it down on the man's neck, there's a sick cracking sound as he puts his weight into it. Roy's fingers shake in shock, the pistol dropping from his hands as his lizard brain takes over, grabbing at Damon's boot. Damon twists. Roy is done. Spitting on the ground, Damon turns and slides the knife back into his belt, walking towards the Lodge again quietly.

Angel is pointedly not looking at what's going on, but the cracking sound has her gagging as she works to treat Ethan's wounds. Yeah. She might be a survivalist, but Roy certainly wasn't a deer.

"Do-," Anthem starts, then stops. His face turns an odd shade of red as he turns to look back in the general direction of Homer. "Put pressure on the wound. Staunch the bleeding, we'll deal with it later." Cradling his rifle, he then turns to gaze at Damon. "Frank, you stupid frakkin' maggot, what in frak's name do you frakkin' think you're doing? Were you dropped as a child? I have seen all sorts of stupid in my life, but this really takes the frakkin' cake - and frosts the frakker, to boot. I have seen shit smarter than you on a regular frakkin' basis. What the FRAK is your problem?"

Achapri makes the same point as Anthem, just in a more characteristically warlike fashion, a snarl twisting her lips as Damon steps on the man's neck, twisting her back and pivoting with her shield to smack Damon across the throat with its hard edge.

"Pressure. Roger that," Homer sits up and shoves a hand against his shoulder, grimacing as he does so. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." Blinking, he looks up as Achapri attacks Damon. "Hey hey hey! That's my thug you're swinging at!"

Damon was about to reply to Anthem, instead he finds a painful hard edge of a shield pounding against his neck that forces him to stutter step back. Hand going immediately to his knife as his back roughly finds a tree, forcing a ragged sound from his throat as he starts to cough. Eyes still expressionless, he slips the knife from his belt and gets into a stance, waiting to see if Achapri is going to press the attack.

Now that the shooting has stopped, at least, Tessa doesn't feel quite so much like she needs to hide on the porch with her arms over her head. Baby steps, right? Leaving her pack behind, she rises to her feet and steps off the porch, approaching Homer at a cautious pace. Pitching her voice to carry, she asks, "Did you get hit?"

"No, I just felt like bleeding openly from the shoulder, it's such a nice night," Homer quips testily, finally releasing his hold on his weapon and focussing on the fight that's still unfolding. "I don't suppose you're some sort of woodland sprite with healing powers?"

Anthem spits as Damon and and the priestess square off. He moves to the corpse of Ms. Chubby Bunny. He sets down his rifle and picks up her pistol. He magazine is popped in and out - ammunition counted - before pointed at the ground near the dueling pair. "You two done," he states, tone quite hostile. There's a soft click as the safety is switched off.

"Do I have to be a woodland sprite?" As she reaches Homer, Tessa extends both hands to help him to his feet, keeping a wary eye on the dramatics surrounding them. She isn't even sure who the enemy is, after all. "I'm a paramedic. Or was, before the whole end of the world thing you were telling me about happened. I don't know if it still counts."

Achapri was simply expressing her discontent with Damon's actions. "He'll live," she mutters in reply to Homer's complaints. "Unlike our prisoner," she adds, no small amount of bitterness to her tone. She turns her eyes toward Anthem. "He's done," she tells him, eyes flicking back toward Damon disdainfully.

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