OOC: SCENARIO 8
Scenario requirements: Your character finds a campfire, and there's a few people settled around it. The people stationed at the campfire are fixated at it,and almost say nothing to you. You can (and any other players in the thread) talk to them as you wish. When you are done talking to them all, this event is over!
Character 1: A girl with long black hair. She stares into the campfire and continues to say the words she lied over and over.
Character 2: A balding, old man. He begins to recount a story about his past, about how he was a fisherman. All he fished up were dead bodies. He continues to talk about fishing up his friends. He continues to talk about his wife and how he fished her up too. The story gets more and more morbid.
Character 3: A small boy, maybe five years old. He is looking straight at you the entire time. As you approach him, he whispers I know why this is is happening. If you question him further he doesn't say anything. However if you bribe him with a food item (DISCARD IMMEDIATELY AFTER) he will take it and continue speaking. I am Peter Pan. You blink, and as you do, you realize it wasn't a child at all, but simply an skeleton corpse of a child.
When the event is over, add +10 infection to your character's infection meter
Characters involved: solo
Extra effect: Flashlights +1 dmg
YOUR CHARACTER'S STATS HERE
[ Infection Rate ]: 35 + 10 = 45/100
James continued to wander the grounds aimlessly. The episode with the fog had left him feeling spent; exhausted. It was very difficult to be a glass half full kind of person, when it seemed your glass was half full of some kind of horrible, mind melting acid.
And speaking of flesh - he itched from head to toe.
"I'd kill for some Benadryl right about now," he lamented weakly. Just there, though, in the distance, was a light. Smoke trailed up from it lazily, for all the world like -
- like a campfire?
He strode toward it quickly, eager to investigate, and also to touch base with any other survivors - after all, there was safety in numbers, right? And they might have supplies - he was dreadfully hungry and thirsty, having not eaten much in his brief spell at the casino. As he got closer, however, he noticed they were a bit strange.
"She lied she lied she lied she lied she lied," whispered a young woman with long, black hair. She was pretty in a sort of strange, ethereal way. Her knees were tucked up under her chin, and bright eyes stared sightlessly at the fire, seemingly unaffected by the light or heat.
"She lied," the woman hissed.
"Who?" James inquired nervously, looking around, but she didn't respond, instead continuing to stare broodily into the flames.
"Hello friend," boomed a voice, and to his relief there was at least one more friendly face at the campsite. An older man patted the grass next to him, and James complied, somewhat relieved. The gentleman was bald, wearing a plaid shirt and vest with worn looking khakis and boots.
"I d-don't suppose you could spare any food," James began, stammering, but the old man somberly shook his head.
"Ain't caught nothing in weeks," he replied mournfully.
Caught?
"I was a fisherman, before all this," he continued, waving his hand to indicate the entire city. "Never caught a fish though, no no. Never caught a fish." He sighed, and leaned back on his arms, closing his eyes as if recalling something.
"First was that girl. Fallen in the lake, they said. Bumped her head. It'd been a few weeks mind you, so she was a bit, well. waterlogged."
James' head turned in slow, horrible fascination.
"Th' next one, well. He got drunk one night and drove his car into a river, so they called me - they always do," he added smugly, "now, he was a little fresher, weren't so bad. Hardly even smelled." He opened his eyes again, and stared into the licking flames.
"The worst was always the kids," he murmured after some time. "My wife, our two sons, the eighteen wheeler pushed them clean off the bridge. Didn't stand a chance; not a chance."
With an uncomfortable grunt, James excused himself, backing away on hands and feet and ran straight into -
A small boy, whose beady stare had been on him this whole time. He smiled, revealing a missing tooth or two, and leaned forward. "I know why this is happening," he whispered into his ear.
"Why?" James whispered back.
The boy simply shook his head, still smiling.
James didn't respond. He was tired of talking to them, now - tired of everything, exhausted at the strangeness and the itch of his skin and the rage in his soul. He lingered by the fire for some time before finally moving on.
