MatthiasAngel

MONUMENT.

I'll be the leader, if it's okay.

《Convalescence - A New World 》

Short post tonight because I'm in a rush. I'll buff it up later, probably tomorrow.

《Convalescence - A New World 》

DIARY OF AMIE JANE

Day Whatever, 10:00 AM

Scavenge duty! Don't have time to write much, I have to run downstairs and meet the crew. All of us have nicknames. I'm Crosses because I'm a Christian and a medic. Two crosses, get it? I'm with Hopper (he's the fast one, used to be a sprinter), Beagle (he's got a lucky streak for finding stuff), and Gauge (he found a 12-gauge shotgun five years ago and has been obsessed with the thing ever since, so we shortened "12-gauge" to Gauge). Best of luck to us finding a generator!

Mansions someday,

"Amie Jane," Amie muttered, signing her latest entry hastily and throwing the journal into her backpack. She checked her watch. 10:00 AM. The sun would be up in a few minutes She shoved her trusty baton into the belt scabbard, tossed her multi-tool into the nearest pocket and shouldered her medic bag, which had been lightened considerably. She never traveled with all of her supplies. Medicine was too valuable to keep all in one place. Her backpack contained the usual kit: bedroll, fire starter, improvised compass, flare, wind-up flashlight, and enough rations for six days, just in case they couldn't return on time. Scavengers traveled light because, after all, they were expected to come back full. After a few push-ups and jumping jacks to wake up, Amie hustled downstairs. The others were already at the table, mumbling quietly to each other over a large overhead road map of the entirety of Seattle. Well, most of Seattle; a good third of it was missing. It showed everything up to Queen Anne, which was more than enough for the group in Greater Duwamish.

Gauge, a tall, broad-shouldered man, was showing the least interest. Leaning as far back as he could in his salvaged desk chair, he was yet again wiping his gun down with a rag. The heavy, long-barreled Winchester 97 was a monster of a gun. It was found with a full stock and buckshot barrel that brought the length up to a little over 3 feet long. With an effective range of a little over 60 feet, it was almost a rifle, and Gauge was always carrying a few slugs in a zippered belt pouch. Hopper, on the other hand, was charged up and ready to go. He was a track star in high school, and he'd retained his speed despite a constant loss of food and sleep. He was a powerful climber as well, making him an incredibly useful asset when it came to debris or obstacles. Beagle, an Irishman, was neither tall nor short, broad nor thin. He showed very little interest in the world around him and spent a lot of time staring off into the distance. Whether he was haunted by some distance memory, or just bored in general, Amie had never figured out. All that was known for sure is that he invariably found the best supplies, and his intuition had never yet failed him.

Hopper spotted Amie first and motioned for her to join them at the table. He patted her on the back.

"Good to see you pack on the haul, Crosses."

"Thanks, Hopper. Just hope I can help."

Beagle stabbed the map with his index finger. "We're going up to A5-A6 this run," he commented in his rustic accent. "Nice stretch of apartments up there that we haven't cleaned out. Hack was on our previous run. He used his flare to scorch a mark on a door and he left the used flare under the doormat, so we'll start with that. All goes well, we'll finish with the whole thing in three days. That'll leave the last two for us to drag the generator back."

Amie's eyes lit up. "You found a generator?!"

Beagle shook his head slowly. "No. But we'll find one this time."

"You say that every time," Gauge grumbled, dropping the chair back to the upright position. Beagle merely shrugged in response, rising slowly from his chair and making his way to the front door with Gauge in tow. Hopper was already there, holding the door open and tapping a foot impatiently. Shaking her head, Amie tightened the straps on her backpack and followed the other three outside.

《Convalescence - A New World 》

@Gunther Yeah, they're already out for blood. It'd be a shame if he had to argue about using his one shell so early in the story. I'm looking forward to that happening later on, after some character development and world building. Heck, we don't even know he only has one shell yet. It doesn't count until it's IC.

《Convalescence - A New World 》

@Treue I dunno. It feels like it's kind of early for a confrontation. Seems like it would be a turning point of the story, and you don't write a turning point in the first chapter.

《Convalescence - A New World 》

Finally got a post up! I'm going to add a rifle or two into the community, with permission. It seems logical after 15 years, and I'll keep Amie from using one.

@CourierSix Maybe just bump the thread and tag everyone if it's been quiet for too long.

《Convalescence - A New World 》

DIARY OF AMIE JANE

Day Whatever, 10:00 AM

So there's good news and bad news! Good news is, we finished cleaning out another floor! Floor 13, to be exact. We only have two to go, so I guess that's more good news. It was less of a disaster than previous floors, thank goodness, and it had a good deal of supplies in it. The farther up we go, the less the looters have, well...looted. Plus, the higher floors are penthouse suites, which means more expensive stuff. I found a stocked medicine cabinet with band-aids, hydrogen peroxide, neosporin cream, and a bottle of ibuprofen. You have NO IDEA how valuable ibuprofen is, and there was a brand-new 500-count bottle. I hope the others are adjusted to me cheering loudly to no one when this happens.

Bad news is, two more citizens left early this morning. They were nice enough to say 'goodbye and good luck,' though...a few have left in the dead of night without a word. Maybe they were too ashamed to say farewell? Either way, we're down to twelve, not including myself. But hey, I guess everyone gets their own floor now. I'm keeping my little room on Floor 8. It's simple and cozy and reminds me a little of my old room back h

Anyway, if nothing else, the supplies will last a bit longer. Maybe the rations will improve (not that they're anything to complain about right now). I guess we'll see, because we have our weekly council meeting tonight. Not an official council, just one where we decide who does what for the week. The leader has been the same man for years because he's the only one organized enough to keep things straight, and he's a kind, generous man who has done a lot to keep our spirits up. The meeting is at 10:00. Looks like I'd better be off.

Mansions someday,

"Amie...Jane," Amie muttered, signing her latest journal entry in her flowing cursive signature. She sighed and forced a smile, though she wasn't all that excited. She hadn't been on scavenge duty in a while, so she'd probably go. Being out in the open made her nervous, but staying sheltered wasn't fair to the others, and she was a grown woman. She was going to do her part, fun or not, like it or not. She turned to face the door as it was opened by a tall, thin man wearing a well-worn three-piece suit. He was a gentleman, and he was going to dress the part to the very end. He nodded politely at her.

"The council meeting is in five minutes, miss."

"Thanks for the heads-up!" she responded cheerily, tossing the journal onto her bed and jogging downstairs. The ground floor had a wide lobby, which had been converted into a meeting room of sorts. A large wooden table was placed in the center, surrounded by mix-matched chairs. Most of the community, if you could call it that, was already present. All of them nodded and a few smiled as she appeared and took her seat. The remaining few appeared shortly after, and the unofficial head of the community, a short, stout, 60-something ex-accountant who somehow managed to keep his hair combed straight, took charge. He was precise, but kind, and he had dealt with very few major arguments over the years. He stood up and opened a notebook that contained the records of jobs/duties, when they were done, and who did them.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," he said in his trademark dry, rusty voice. "I know most of you have no interest in these meetings, so as usual I will keep them as brief as possible. Duties, as organized by previous activity, are as follows:"

He clicked through the names and, as she had expected, Amie was a scavenger this week. Scavengers leave at sunup and get back at sundown five days a week. A list of priorities was assigned, and the scavengers were expected to find at least half of them. Some, like food, water/beverages, and clothing, were not so hard to find. Others, like medicine, ammunition, and a generator (the generator had been a priority for years), not so much. She was with three others, who were in charge of working together on the scavenge. They had until morning to make a plan, pack kits, and rest. Amie forced yet another smile. No use in griping about it. Someone had to do it, and this week it was her. There were no objections, and the meeting was promptly adjourned.

《Convalescence - A New World 》

@Vermillion Gave Amie a tough baton and scabbard, reason being that she got both of them (and the training) prior to the Green Age. Consequently, they're about 15 years old and have been banged up pretty well (and likely used as a crowbar or hammer), which is why I picked a high-grade baton: it's still in good working order.

《Convalescence - A New World 》

@Vermillion Looks like we have 7 official players. What's the minimum number of posts before people can post again?

《Convalescence - A New World 》

@Treue Eww. I hope Amie hits you on the head with her baton haha. Speaking of which, I'm going to find an actual model and a picture for reference and add them to the CS.