Recent content by Croike

Marten does so without any complaint, popping his jaw as he does so. "Nurse, none of my group have eaten a real meal in a day. Where, and when can we get some food, water?" He looks tired, and bedraggled on account of their harrowing flight. He avoids making any sudden moves as he divests...

"Rietveld, Marten. Define 'contact'. Define 'anyone who hasn't been themselves'. Do you mean the infected?" He asks, brusquely. He levels an exhausted look at the sergeant in question. "I understand that this is part of- whatever procedure, but none of us are going to remember exactly what...

Eyeing the Civil Guardsmen carefully, Marten assesses their general demeanor as the party evacuates from the vessel, and deliberately makes sure they're not going to find his taser or telescopic baton without searching him thoroughly. He whispers to Ben as they disembark. "We should try to stick...

Marten keeps his eyes on the horizon, standing atop the deck and watching for anything out of the ordinary as the motorsailer re-directs toward Saint Nora. He idly goes over how much fresh water is still aboard the vessel and how much further they have to journey. He draws his own thoughts back...

Marten sleeps fitfully, dreaming of days gone by, of freezing nights spent patrolling the desert. Grueling days of jungle heat, the faces and voices of men he has not seen in over a decade. When he does wake, he reaches for a knife that has not been by his side for years. When he wakes, there...

Marten murmurs a prayer in his native language for the dead boy as he lowers him toward the water. He does this with as much solemnity as the situation allows for. He heaves another long exhausted sigh as Patrick is given over to the sea.

"Cassandra, I'm sure most of the infected we've met were good, or at least- normal people before their infection. I'm all but certain that some of the hotel guests were eating the bartender on our way out of the building. It does something to the sick. It's best you say what goodbyes you can...

Marten steps around to be next to the dead boy, looking over his restraints one more time. "Something I noticed on our way here- is that a number of the infected were sporting injuries that would be fatal to an ordinary person." He clicks his tongue a few times, looking for something thick...

Marten takes a sharp breath of air and makes to grab her shoulders. "Cassandra. He's gone. Chest compressions aren't going to help." He sighs again, trying to pull her away if she looks like she's actively going to attempt to breathe air into the dead boy's lungs. "Mister Wigg- could you please...

RIP the Watchmen.

Glad you're okay!

Talbot heaves another sigh as he's given his orders. He looks to the scruffy demo-trooper with a deep frown. "I'll watch the front while we're clearing the perimeter. Cover our six." He turns away and begins executing the orders he was given by Therk. He mulls over the possibilities of what...

I'm either going to be sporadically available, or completely unavailable starting at 7:30 PM PST until Wednesday at 11 AM PST.

Talbot assumes a rifleman's crouch, leveling his rifle toward the disgusting creatures. He keeps his breath measured, in and out, slowly and deeply. Gently drawing up a nice, solid bead on the target. He keeps his rifle ready, finger on the trigger but he does not fire his weapon. He's obviously...

Talbot falls into line without a word, keeping his head on a swivel as he clutches his rifle. Despite his outward silence, his thoughts are roiling. While he has never had a high opinion of the majority of his fellow Watchmen, this turn of events has left him with an uncomfortable sensation that...