December 3rd 2286 - 15:00
Fleetwood Subway Station - Last Light
Before them the wall loomed. Dark and terrible, it was made from the carcasses of destroyed vehicles, collected rubble and whatever else could be collected by whoever had taken it upon themselves to seal the ruins beyond. So close to the border it didn't matter what time it was, it was always night here. Mutters of discontent could already be heard, the gathered dozen or so already present staring up into the rain that at any moment could become acidic. They, like many others, had been called to the Necropolis by some cause or another, and just like all others they were feeling second thoughts upon being presented with the reality of their quest. Perhaps it was the lingering silence that hit upon them the most, only the gentle drip of raindrops upon pavement breaking it. No gunshots, screams or creatures calling into the wild. Just the shifting of the city's bones and the ever present rain.
Someone called out to them from a nearby subway tunnel, one of three still somewhat intact that lead straight into the city. It was where this group had decided to meet, and their route inside. And so they descended into the depths one by one, leaving behind the deserted suburbs above.
While above there was only the rain and the picked-clean ruins of the city streets, below was an almost jarring shift. Candles burned along the handrails and walls, small offerings of preserved foods and water for any brave enough to face the Necropolis. A few lived within, making a home of the station's former control booth and greeting each adventurer with a face that was both warm and foreboding at the same time. These people had seen many like them, and knew that any who chose to take to the rails and push forward would not return. So they had dedicated themselves to ensuring that the last face they would see would be one of hope and warmth, at the very least to ease their passage.
This particular group was more diverse and unruly than most they had seen, drawn from across the East Coast and a few from beyond. A man quietly counted pills in a lunchbox, one of a few medics that had been selected, while another nervously did the same with bullets. To the side a small group of three sat together and whispered softly to each other, eyeing up the others with undisguised concern. Their jackets bore the mark of a red talon on the breast, making it easy to assume they were remnants of the ill-fated Talon Company. Crunching of pavement and the mechanical hiss of well-oiled joints and pneumatics announced two more entering the subway tunnel. Brotherhood of Steel paladins, one bearing a star upon her shoulder and with helmet mag-locked to her waist, the other taller by a decent foot and trying his best to show some form of camaraderie with the others. The woman, Khaliya as identified by the holotags around her neck and conversation with the man, did not. Instead her emerald eyes scanned across each in turn as if evaluating them and afterwards she turned to her companion.
"He's not here." She said firmly, keeping her tone low and staying close. It took little to pin down exactly who she was speaking of, as a few of the others had already drawn the same conclusion. Their mysterious benefactor was not present despite instructions to meet them at this specific location by this time. Already the group was growing restless, and with their varied backgrounds that had enemies in the same camp, she felt as if standing in a tinder box with a match nearby.
Fleetwood Subway Station - Last Light
Before them the wall loomed. Dark and terrible, it was made from the carcasses of destroyed vehicles, collected rubble and whatever else could be collected by whoever had taken it upon themselves to seal the ruins beyond. So close to the border it didn't matter what time it was, it was always night here. Mutters of discontent could already be heard, the gathered dozen or so already present staring up into the rain that at any moment could become acidic. They, like many others, had been called to the Necropolis by some cause or another, and just like all others they were feeling second thoughts upon being presented with the reality of their quest. Perhaps it was the lingering silence that hit upon them the most, only the gentle drip of raindrops upon pavement breaking it. No gunshots, screams or creatures calling into the wild. Just the shifting of the city's bones and the ever present rain.
Someone called out to them from a nearby subway tunnel, one of three still somewhat intact that lead straight into the city. It was where this group had decided to meet, and their route inside. And so they descended into the depths one by one, leaving behind the deserted suburbs above.
While above there was only the rain and the picked-clean ruins of the city streets, below was an almost jarring shift. Candles burned along the handrails and walls, small offerings of preserved foods and water for any brave enough to face the Necropolis. A few lived within, making a home of the station's former control booth and greeting each adventurer with a face that was both warm and foreboding at the same time. These people had seen many like them, and knew that any who chose to take to the rails and push forward would not return. So they had dedicated themselves to ensuring that the last face they would see would be one of hope and warmth, at the very least to ease their passage.
This particular group was more diverse and unruly than most they had seen, drawn from across the East Coast and a few from beyond. A man quietly counted pills in a lunchbox, one of a few medics that had been selected, while another nervously did the same with bullets. To the side a small group of three sat together and whispered softly to each other, eyeing up the others with undisguised concern. Their jackets bore the mark of a red talon on the breast, making it easy to assume they were remnants of the ill-fated Talon Company. Crunching of pavement and the mechanical hiss of well-oiled joints and pneumatics announced two more entering the subway tunnel. Brotherhood of Steel paladins, one bearing a star upon her shoulder and with helmet mag-locked to her waist, the other taller by a decent foot and trying his best to show some form of camaraderie with the others. The woman, Khaliya as identified by the holotags around her neck and conversation with the man, did not. Instead her emerald eyes scanned across each in turn as if evaluating them and afterwards she turned to her companion.
"He's not here." She said firmly, keeping her tone low and staying close. It took little to pin down exactly who she was speaking of, as a few of the others had already drawn the same conclusion. Their mysterious benefactor was not present despite instructions to meet them at this specific location by this time. Already the group was growing restless, and with their varied backgrounds that had enemies in the same camp, she felt as if standing in a tinder box with a match nearby.
