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Post by storyteller on Oct 9, 2008 17:35:16 GMT
Baronville's nights were usually a humble bustle. The streets were never too busy, but usually had a steady stream of people tending to their own business.
To most southerners from the state, this was a proper city...typical Louisiana style. French-styled buildings and roads, and the size was a lot compared to most other places.
Visitors from up North, or New Orleans would have considered Baronville a small time town...only worth getting what you needed on your way to wherever it was you'd be going. It was a town seldomly remembered by those who didn't visit it on a regular basis. No skyscrapers, no fancy suits (besides the usual southern gentleman passing through from a nearby plantation), only the traffic of a main street and recently built AmericaMart provided anything resembling the American standard of city.
Night time always came with a warm fog, early morning consisted of an even thicker one...but wet and cold. Surrounded by miles of green plains, and heavily forested swamp land, Baronville was in the heart of Louisiana...a quiet city...away from the rest of civilization.
The crash came sudden, a large explosion coming from a diesel fuel Semi Rig and three other vehicles led to an unknown amount of cars and pedistrians getting involved in the massive accident, effectively blocking main street with fire and steel.
-------------------------------------------------- Thats the setting for now. Your characters can be in or around the accident,a large explosion has caused a lot of damage, and the exact reason of the accident is unknown.
The crash happened on the main street going through town in front of the Americamart, which is the only place for tools for your truck, along with a gas station. Electronics, auto center, and a small Hunting area all fill the store, along with clothes and such.
A small time town, we can all work on the area together. No skyscrapers, biggest building in town is Tammeny Tower (four floors), the city hall.
Down south so there will be a lot of guns in plenty, area around the small city is all farmland and swamps.
With that being said, have fun.
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Post by Simmo33 on Oct 9, 2008 20:19:46 GMT
Charles was out on an evening stroll. He enjoyed gazing at the night sky, at the moon and all the stars. But it was getting late, and he didn't want to stay out in the town, amongst the ruffians and drunkards that only appeared after dark. Charles slowly walked round the corner, to the street, his cane jabbing into the ground with every step. As he was approaching the row of shops, he heard a thunderous crash. Trying to keep his dignity, he turned his head as calmly as possible towards where the sound had come from.
Charles' eyes widened. 4, maybe 5 cars had piled up into one crumpled mess. Chaos erupted. Pedestrians flocked from all directions to investigate, help or just watch. Charles was quickly engulfed by the swarm of people and despite his best efforts, he was trapped in the crowd of the people he hated most. Commoners. He could smell the dirt on them, the smell of alcohol and the smell of...blood. Somebody had been hit in the crash. Now, instead of wanting to run, Charles was strangely drawn towards the scene of the accident.
Suddenly, there was a shriek of terror, and the crowd began to disperse. But Charles kept venturing towards the centre. He had to see what had generated such a huge reaction. He had to know what had happened...
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Post by webster52402 on Oct 9, 2008 20:39:58 GMT
There was such a ringing in his head... A kind of high-pitched whine that just wouldn't leave his mind, drilling into his skull as though it were the whirring bit of a drill. This noise alone disoriented and distracted him from his surroundings, he couldn't focus on anything... Nothing...
Alright, basics, that's where he had to start. Who was he?
Leon... Leon Persimmons, originally New York, New York, wanderer and drifter... His thoughts slowly pieced together, though the words were tenuous and flighty. It was a start. But he still couldn't focus, and still couldn't force his eyes to open, it would be too much to bear. His hearing was gone, his eyesight, gone...
What happened? His voice asked, and immediately, it seemed that those were the magic words. His eyes snapped open, a stream of light scorching them immediately and causing them to water. Tears leaked down his cheeks as he blinked furiously, his hearing still gone, replaced by that damned whine... But what he saw, was far more important to him.
Fire. The flickering, dancing, hungry flames wavered in front of him, waving eerily silent, distorted somehow by the whine that was rushing through his skull, being replaced by the steady, dull pounding of blood as it roared through his ears, almost like a steady beat of war drums to the whine. This gave the fire around him a curious element that was almost akin to slow motion, as the great man slowly rolled over, bracing his hand against the scorching hot pavement. What in the world had gone on here?
Slowly, the wreckage of his motorcycle came into view, the twisted and broken mangle of metal reminding him in an instant. Crash... A crash... Something had happened, though he still didn't quite remember the details. Was he alright?
As he pushed himself up, the answer became clear. No. Immediately upon regaining his hands and knees he let out a cry of pain, dropping back down onto his side. His left knee, which had been caught beneath the motorcycle when he had twisted, trying to avoid the crash, was ripped completely open, a long string of flesh and muscle gone all the way down the side of his leg. His blood was dripping from the wound, and running down the ragged streamers of flesh that still clung to him... Damn, that was going to hurt for ages...
He rolled over onto his back, letting out a groan, as he tried to piece his thoughts together. Just lay still... Someone would be there to help him... But dammit, what had started this!?!
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Post by Elgen on Oct 9, 2008 20:54:31 GMT
Robert, as the sensible man he was, had been driving. The key word, he reminded himself, was had. He wasn't driving anymore. Not since the horrible crash had occurred down the road. Exactly what had happened he wasn't entirely sure about, because his mind had been elsewhere, and his eyes aswell, but he reckoned it was probably something like that that'd happened to the unlucky who'd been involved in this crash. Robert himself had parked his car a few blocks down, and continued by foot to examine crash. Cautiously, of course.
As he walked towards the town centre, where said explosion seemed to have come from, Robert had to fight his way past the usual crowd of people, curious as to what had happened, or just getting their daily action from the crash site, very similar to vultures.
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Post by NotApplicable on Oct 9, 2008 21:13:05 GMT
Will was having a bad day; he hated his job. Having to be happy to see everyone that he served, or more to the point: having to put up with people expecting him to be happy to see them. He was not.
It came suddenly. There was a tire squeal and a huge, unexpected explosion. The windows all along the store shook, if not shattered. The customer Will was serving forgot her change and darted to the window. He called to her, not sure what to do, but she just waved him over, not looking ‘round.
He stepped over and saw the carnage spread along the road. The most obvious casualty was a motor cyclist, obviously thrown out into the less dense outer areas of the crowd. Forgetting himself, and his pessimism, he ran straight out, across the car park, to his aid.
When he arrived there was a group of people standing near by, unsure of what to do. He ran straight to the man lying on his back. It wasn’t until he was beside the man, looking into his agonised eyes, that he realised he had no idea what to do for him.
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Post by FC4 on Oct 9, 2008 21:26:00 GMT
Micheal Norris walked out of his repair shop garage, having heard the explosion and already knowing what happened before he saw it. He grumbled as he looked at the crash from a block away, wiping grease off his hands with a rag. "Yep... diesel engine alright. [censored]s explode like matchsticks." He turned away and headed back into the shop, ducking his head as he passed below the VW Beetle he'd been working on. Going to one of the several tables in the garage, he tossed the rag over a collection of bolts and screws before squatting and pulling out a box.
"Whelp, time to see if any of those seminars were worth ah shit." He told himself, taking the Rubbermaid box out with him from the garage, and walking towards the accident.
"A'right, 'nough staring you dolts! Either start calling 911 or get your asses outta my way!" He yelled, waving one greasy hand in the air in front of him to ward people off. "Make yerselves useful or scram, dammit!"
Finally, he made it to the scene, and found it to be a lovely wreck. He walked passed the mangled remains of a bike as the first victim he saw was the presumed biker on the ground. He got to the man, who was already being approached by one of those AmericaMart employees. Mike dropped the box on the ground and looked around, before looking at the victim.
"Your bike is F.U.B.A.R. and you ain't that far off. I'm going to move you away from the crash, so a car doesn't blow up in our faces. A'right?"
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Post by webster52402 on Oct 9, 2008 23:40:52 GMT
Leon slowly turned his head as he saw someone come into his view, a man wearing an AmericaMart uniform. The guy seemed well meaning enough, though when Leon's lips moved to ask the man what he was doing, no sound emerged. At least not any that he could hear, Leon had actually made a jumbled mess of unintelligible words. It seemed that the whine in his ears extended to distracting him from talking as well.
Then another figure entered his view, from the opposite side of him. Just as tortuously slowly, Leon turned his gaze to this man, watching as he dropped a small container beside him. For someone just in a crash, Leon was amazingly calm, though it could be because he wasn't truly aware at the moment. All that he could think of, all that he could hear, was the blood singing in his ears, the dull thump of his heartbeat combined with that DAMN whine! Where in the world had that whine come from!?!
He became aware about halfway through the man, a mechanic apparently though Leon couldn't quite make out the tag on the man's chest thanks to his heat-watered eyes, telling him about his bike that he was actually saying something. And, though it pained Leon, he had to shake his head after the man was done talking, trying to explain that he couldn't hear him. Instead, another groan left his lips, combined with more jumbled together words, as Leon struggled past the shellshock-like fog clouding his mind.
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Post by NotApplicable on Oct 10, 2008 9:25:27 GMT
Another man came over to the motorcyclist; he seemed to know what he was doing. Will, socked by the rider’s obvious pain, began to back away, dazed. Standing slowly, as the casualty was pulled away, Will gazed around at the situation. If either of the men had tried to communicate with him he hadn’t heard. There were so many people moving around, as empathy moved out of his mental spectrum, he couldn’t see why. Those people began to disappear from his vision; all he saw was that which was still. Burning vehicles, corpses, near corpses. There were people too; standing people that didn’t know how to process the situation presented to them. It was as if he was one with all that which didn’t move, people swarming all around them. Why were they swarming? Will looked down at his hands; they were all pale and shaking. As his body began to sway, he became conscious of the crowd again. There was one point dictating there movements, over there. There was no time to investigate before the ground to him down into a pile of unconsciousness. OOC: Melodramatic?
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Post by Simmo33 on Oct 10, 2008 9:55:24 GMT
Once Charles had reached great pile of mangled metal, he could see a man lying on the floor, and gathered around him were an AmericaMart employee and what looked like a mechanic, covered in oil and with a box on the ground next to him.
Charles deliberately walked over to the opposite side of the man on the ground. He didn't want to risk getting grease from the mechanic on his $2000 suit. The mechanic briefly glanced up at Charles, who in return angled his head upwards slightly, to show he was more important. The mechanic went back to talking about the smashed bike. The AmericaMart emloyee, however, didn't take any notice of Charles. He stood, swaying, and staring at the ground.
Charles looked down at the man on the ground. He was conscious at least. But something was definitely wrong. The man seemed unable to communicate with the mechanic who was talking to him. Instead, he was calm, but seemed confused. The man groaned.
Charles knew he had to get help, but he didn't want to be seen helping a commoner. He was better than them. They could sort this out by themselves. But as Charles turned to leave, he looked back at the man, and something inside him changed. He felt sorry for the man on the ground. He had to help.
OOC: If you want to control my character for conversation or interaction feel free. Just remember, he speaks like a posh person would, and he's very stubborn and thinks he's better than you.
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Post by FC4 on Oct 10, 2008 15:13:45 GMT
"Well that went far..." Mike muttered, as the man sputtered spittle and little else back at him and nodded. "I'll just assume ya heard me and I have permission to help you." With that, Mike brought one arm under the man's neck to support his head, and the other under his knees, and lifted with his legs, groaning.
He moved slowly and didn't get much farther than the sidewalk before he had to put the man down. He was quick to return and grab his box, before kneeling on the ground next to the man and popping open the container.
"Alright... Didn't get taught much on this, but I'm thinking wrappin' it might be a good idea." He knew he was mostly speaking to himself, as it was unlikely the man could hear him. He took out a pair of latex gloves from the box, slipping them on his hands.
"Just called 911. The nearest city is sending an ambulance here." One of the spectators informed Mike, and he gave a cynical laugh.
"Figures. It's a small town, wouldn't have a proper hospital would it?"
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Post by storyteller on Oct 10, 2008 16:01:17 GMT
IC:
Clint's head was bleeding profusely, a smaller car had been sandwhiched between the back of a semi rig and his Dodge Ram 3500, a minor collision for the cowboy, not so for the woman who had been caught in between.
Clint began unbuckling his seat belt when he noticed fire coming from the sandwiched car, the man tried putting his truck in reverse...just as four more calls got involved in the accident, a man in a motorcycle flying over the hood of his truck.
"Got Damn!" he cursed as his truck was sent towards the side walk, crashing his head through a window, while the explosion from the truck's diesel finally happened. He knew the immediate cars near that truck had no survivors, and he knew more explosions would be quick to come...it was a freak accident...how the hell would a truck like that crash in a small town like this.
He groaned a bit, put his dazed head back on his seat. A trickle of blood streamed from under his hat and down his face. The man unbuckled himself, groaned a bit more. And exited out his truck.
What he saw didn't make him any happy, there were at least a dozen other vehicles involved, and it looked like a few pedestrians as well.
Groups of people were helping victims of the accident get away from the flames and what was soon going to turn into an inferno.
The new truck he had.. it was banged up real good, but chances of it getting caught in any chain of explosions wasn't as likely as for the other vehicles still in the street.
Up ahead was an Americamart, the only place he'd be able to get anything for his head and the people involved in the accident.
He reached into his coat, removed a cigar and placed it to his mouth. Helping out a man from his car.
"You alright buddy?"
"My...my arm...."
Clint looked down and noticed a bone sticking out of the man's forearm.
"You'll be fine Sir, you just need a splint and some dressing to help staunch the bleeding.
The old man was shaken, "Don't worry, your fine. I'm gonna head in the store, get what yah need." he said as he took off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. He wrapped it around the elder's arm, the senior moaning from the pain.
"That should temporarily halt any spurting. I'll be right back." He picked up his jacket and tossed it over his undershirt.
The man began dashing down the side walk, noticing the crowd was beginning to help a bit more often. He looked around, not a single doctor in sight.
Seeing the town mechanic and a Mart Employee, as well as a proper gentleman all huddle around the mangled motorcyclist who had been involved with the crash, he stopped.
"Ey Mike, whats it look like over here? I'm headed in to get some splint wrap, wound dressing, and whatever first aid we cant get...he hurt bad? A few people died up there." he said looking down and at the mart employee.
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Post by FC4 on Oct 11, 2008 16:22:00 GMT
"He's got a long chuck o' flesh from his knee down gone." Mike replied, looking up at Clint, then looking back. "Damn... didn't I just declare your old truck irreparable? You go through 'em quick, Clint. I've got gauze but no other splint material in here."
At the news of a few people dead, Mike looked a little more grim. "Crap... the Ambulance is on its way, might be an hour or so though. Mart boy-" He looked to the AmericaMart employee. "-help Clint here find everything he needs, and quick. Don't bother ringing it up."
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Post by Elgen on Oct 12, 2008 0:39:50 GMT
As Robert closed in on the eye of the storm, to put it like that, he quickly realised he shouldn't have. The crowd of people was only split by the trucks and smaller cars who were now rather hard to recognise as man made at the moment, and the wounded. And maybe even dead. From what Robert could see, they could all be dead; he'd never been much of a knowledge for first aid and the like. Human anatomy was far fetched for him.
Robert knew he should help, but really couldn't move much. He was rather mesmerized by it all, wanting to move and do something, but not able to take his eyes away from it all. Hopefully they'd get all these people to the hospital as soon as possible. Loosing more lives because of time hardly seemed ideal at a time like this.
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Post by webster52402 on Oct 12, 2008 19:56:52 GMT
Why wouldn't his head stop swimming? Why wouldn't the fog that encompassed his brain, swirling around him to make him feel like a sailor lost at sea, drifting amongst the waves with nowhere to go, nothing but emptiness all around, leave him be? As it was, he couldn't even see straight, even as he opened his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of being rocked. It made him nauseous...
As he was set down again, he noted that he had felt like he was being rocked because he actually had been getting rocked, as the forms of those that had pulled him from the crash came swirling back into view. Even as their image clarified, though, it was sent into haze again by a spike of pain that seemed to drill itself through his skull to lance all the way to his brain stem before radiating out in an electrical current of agony. Despite what was probably a good idea, Leon raised one hand to set it against the side of his aching head, stifling a cry of pain that came from the mere contact. While the injury on his leg was the obvious injury, he obviously had more wrong with him than just that wound.
Slowly, his lips moved, unintelligible mutterings easing past his lips before he finally managed to gain control of his tongue once more. Even then, though, his normally booming, powerful voice was softened and weakened. He sounded almost frail, though at the moment he FELT frail. "Who...?" He muttered at last, turning his gaze to the mechanic that was aiding him. It was beyond his powers to read the name tag at the moment.
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Post by Simmo33 on Oct 13, 2008 20:43:06 GMT
Charles continued to watch, as the victim of the crash writhed in agony. Or was it confusion? The man seemed dazed. The man was looking around and then, every so often, closing his eyes again. Eventually, he managed to speak. He said one single word: "Who?". He wanted to know who the mechanic was. But the way he had spoken showed that something was seriously wrong. He sounded almost feeble, like all strength had been sucked out of him. Charles reached forwards to turn the man in his direction, but the moment they made contact the man jolted back out of pain.
Charles decided to speak up.
"My name is Charles." He spoke as clearly as possible. "The ambulance is on it's way."
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