acts_of_gord: (Default)
[personal profile] acts_of_gord
The Milliways portal door is a capricious, fickle thing. It had opened for Gordon earlier when he'd tripped over the charred, blackened remains of a lurking zombie while firing a sawblade into its still-mobile companion. Then it'd gone and opened again, back to Ravenholm, just as he was leaning forward to check and see whether the zombie that'd loomed over him before had gone.

The blade had flown true and eradicated the zombie threat, but in the moonlight that trickled through the cracks in the boarded-up window and badly patched roof, Gordon could see he still wasn't alone...

Date: 2008-07-28 08:55 pm (UTC)
raptorcanaria: ([young] worried)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
"Oh god," Dinah says, not out of disgust or fear or anything other than pity.

"That poor guy."

Date: 2008-07-28 09:00 pm (UTC)
raptorcanaria: (intense)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
Dinah doesn't hesitate. She turns and races up the stairs, stopping only when she nears the top to make sure he's following.

Date: 2008-07-28 09:14 pm (UTC)
smelltheashes: (Father Grigori)
From: [personal profile] smelltheashes
And then comes the laughter, from the building across the way; Father Grigori, looking somewhat the worse for wear, holds up a hand in greeting. "Well done, brother!" he calls. "But I have a more suitable gun for you. Come closer."

For all his faults, the priest has an excellent pitching arm. Something black and silver flashes in the moonlight, arcing across the distance. Gordon catches the tossed shotgun out of midair.

"Good," says Father Grigori. "Now keep it close. My advice to you is... aim for the head."

The drainpipe nearest Gordon starts to rattle. Grigori hisses. "They come!" he says. "There is no rest in Ravenholm! Move on and I will meet you at the church."

He makes a vague gesture towards an onion-domed building in the distance before darting off into the shadows of the other building.

Date: 2008-07-28 09:16 pm (UTC)
raptorcanaria: ([young] reflective)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
Dinah draws back and to the side to let the radiator do its work, then starts forward again.

"OK, what was that?"

Date: 2008-07-28 09:36 pm (UTC)
raptorcanaria: ([young] training)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
Dinah still doesn't want or need a gun. She advances on the other zombie as fast asit moves itself, landing kicks and strikes in rapid succession before she can throw it back off the roof.

"We should move."

Obviously.

Date: 2008-07-28 09:48 pm (UTC)
raptorcanaria: ([young] putting up with it)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
She feels an idiot for falling like that, and scowls. But she doesn't object to the idea, and instead runs along the ledge, her determination helping to keep her centred.

Constantly looking back for him, she keeps alert all the way.

Date: 2008-07-28 09:55 pm (UTC)
smelltheashes: (headcrab zombie)
From: [personal profile] smelltheashes
... into which what remains of the population of Ravenholm is beginning to pour. Two, three, four at a time, they come, shuffling and wailing their horrid, muffled cries. And they just. Keep. Coming. The only real mercy here is that none of them seem to have been any less than full adults when they were still alive.

Gordon's throat moves convulsively at the sight, and he begins reloading the shotgun from a box of shells he snagged along the way.

Date: 2008-07-28 09:57 pm (UTC)
smelltheashes: (Father Grigori)
From: [personal profile] smelltheashes
A square of light opens in the wall of a large building diagonally opposite their current position. "How came you here, brother?" calls Father Grigori. "You have lost your way at the last! Did I not tell you to seek the church?"

As he points to a side alley that's still relatively zombie-free, he adds, "Mend your ways before it is too late!"

Date: 2008-07-29 08:06 am (UTC)
raptorcanaria: (intense)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
"Yeah," Dinah says, eyes not leaving the square. "I'm a fast runner, don't worry about me."

Date: 2008-07-29 01:50 pm (UTC)
raptorcanaria: (intense)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
Dinah's just glad she's in sneakers and not her Mom's high heeled boots for this.

She glances at him to makes sure he's ready with the gun, before crouching and dropping the distance easily, landing in a deep crouch.

Date: 2008-07-29 02:27 pm (UTC)
raptorcanaria: ([young] irritated)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
Dinah's just ahaead of him, sprinting into the alley. She checks only just enough to make sure he's OK, and heads forward.

Date: 2008-07-29 02:37 pm (UTC)
raptorcanaria: (intense)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
Dinah keeps a fixed straight line, not even flinching as he shooting around her and pounds on ahead. She looks around for something vaguely church-like, but the only thing she really sees is a gap between the buildings further up, beyond which there appears to be a more open space.

"Think we should head down there?"

Date: 2008-07-29 02:49 pm (UTC)
raptorcanaria: ([young] blegh)
From: [personal profile] raptorcanaria
"Thanks," Dinah says, taking the crowbar with one hand and testing its weight shortly.

She glances around quickly and heads through, into a wider, open plaza.

With a zombie in it.

Date: 2008-07-29 02:56 pm (UTC)
smelltheashes: (headcrab zombie)
From: [personal profile] smelltheashes
And not just any zombie, either. The ones pursuing them had been still sort of human-shaped, for all their missing parts. The skinless ones were... well, about what you'd expect for a moving corpse with neither skin nor much muscle mass left. This one is bent low, its knuckles nearly brushing the cobblestones. What little of its skin is visible is a repulsively bloated reddish-purple, mottled like a livid bruise. And the black thing covering what used to be its head isn't alone; there are at least three or four more of them clinging to the creature, studding its back like pustules about to erupt.

With a wet snuffling noise it turns in Dinah's direction and tears one of the black headcrabs loose from its torso.

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Gordon Freeman

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