1 Enter Purgatory [NK/Private] Mon Jun 06, 2016 11:21 pm
Kamakura
D-rank
The smoke. The wonderful, beautiful smoke rising high into the air. It was angelic go see as it could only mean civilization. So hungry. So thirsty. Kamakura needed this, he couldn't bear the thought it all being just a-
splash
Salty sea water smacked into the drifting refugee's face, causing him to choke desperately, coughing the disgusting liquid up and out, and gagging over the side of the boat. The only solace he could find at the moment was within the fact that the sun wasn't beating down on him at all. In fact. He as almost completely surrounded by a very thick and blanketing mist. It has all been a dream. The smell of smoke was permeating his nostrils, which in turn must have motivated his dream to fill him with falsified hopes.
There was an unsettling crack and give as his raft snapped on rocks at the shoreline of an island with very dense jungle all around. Kamakura crawled over the rocks and onto a very limited, gritty stretch of beach. He stood just at the line which separated the jungle from the sands. His first impressions were not great. Even from this small glimpse of the densely layered tree line he could see thick spiders webs, crawling with the nasty little things. He pulled his axe out and used it as a mere tool for clearing pests from his path. He swatted away spiders, and continued on a straightforward wandering expedition, stumbling upon the first horror of his journey.
The body of what had likely been a lost venturer like him. The body was drained of blood and as pale as could be. The biggest problem with the whole scene was the fact that the body couldn't have arrived there by the spiders alone. It was strung up by the neck. Hung. And then there were more. Dozens and dozens more.
Spiders would occasionally land on Kamakura's shoulder and he would smash them as quickly as possible. At that point, the first sound of thunder hit. The slow and seemingly endless progression of Kamakura through this jungle brought more and more stormy weather per second, or at least it seemed as such. The rain hit hard and when the wind would peak, the rain was driven directly into the side of his face, as if the rain fell not from the sky, but from the direction he was walking toward. It was as though nature itself wanted to tell him to go back. The lightning which struck always felt so close, but occurred out in the ocean, more likely than not. This place was becoming worse than the sea had been. He leaned down to a collecting puddle of rain and drank deep. It was not good, but his parched mouth needed it. As he slumped against the nearest dead looking tree to regain himself, he was quickly reminded that the number of spiders throughout these woods was outrageous. One would wander into his shoulder or the top of his head every few seconds until he became so frustrated that he kicked the rotted deadwood he had been leaning against and broke straight through it's hollow core. Roughly two hundred spiders of all shape and size came rushing out of the core and climbed up the leg of his cargo pants, sending him into a frustrated panic. After much patting and smashing, he had cleared the contents of his trousers. The storm raged on, the only solace at this point was the forests which seemed to rain down spiders, although with less frequency. Kamakura stared up at the sky, wondering what he had done to be here.
Kamakura stood in place for some time. He was absolutely sealed away in deep contemplation. These trees were too dead to make a seaworthy raft. The spiders here could be highly venomous for all he knew, and he had several bites from the crawling pests. He had walked for what seemed like a mile inland at this point and nothing had changed about the scenery except the number of spiders and the number of dead bodies littered about. An odd phenomenon which Kamakura had picked up by now was that a vast majority of these bodies wore metal forehead protectors with all sorts of different designs on them. And some had weapons such as Katanas and shuriken sticking out of them. But the tech was nothing like back home.
"Hmph. Must be be some kind of primitive islanders inhabiting this place. In which case.."
He kept his hand hovering over his pistol carefully, prepared to pull it on anyone necessary.
WC: 772
splash
Salty sea water smacked into the drifting refugee's face, causing him to choke desperately, coughing the disgusting liquid up and out, and gagging over the side of the boat. The only solace he could find at the moment was within the fact that the sun wasn't beating down on him at all. In fact. He as almost completely surrounded by a very thick and blanketing mist. It has all been a dream. The smell of smoke was permeating his nostrils, which in turn must have motivated his dream to fill him with falsified hopes.
There was an unsettling crack and give as his raft snapped on rocks at the shoreline of an island with very dense jungle all around. Kamakura crawled over the rocks and onto a very limited, gritty stretch of beach. He stood just at the line which separated the jungle from the sands. His first impressions were not great. Even from this small glimpse of the densely layered tree line he could see thick spiders webs, crawling with the nasty little things. He pulled his axe out and used it as a mere tool for clearing pests from his path. He swatted away spiders, and continued on a straightforward wandering expedition, stumbling upon the first horror of his journey.
The body of what had likely been a lost venturer like him. The body was drained of blood and as pale as could be. The biggest problem with the whole scene was the fact that the body couldn't have arrived there by the spiders alone. It was strung up by the neck. Hung. And then there were more. Dozens and dozens more.
Spiders would occasionally land on Kamakura's shoulder and he would smash them as quickly as possible. At that point, the first sound of thunder hit. The slow and seemingly endless progression of Kamakura through this jungle brought more and more stormy weather per second, or at least it seemed as such. The rain hit hard and when the wind would peak, the rain was driven directly into the side of his face, as if the rain fell not from the sky, but from the direction he was walking toward. It was as though nature itself wanted to tell him to go back. The lightning which struck always felt so close, but occurred out in the ocean, more likely than not. This place was becoming worse than the sea had been. He leaned down to a collecting puddle of rain and drank deep. It was not good, but his parched mouth needed it. As he slumped against the nearest dead looking tree to regain himself, he was quickly reminded that the number of spiders throughout these woods was outrageous. One would wander into his shoulder or the top of his head every few seconds until he became so frustrated that he kicked the rotted deadwood he had been leaning against and broke straight through it's hollow core. Roughly two hundred spiders of all shape and size came rushing out of the core and climbed up the leg of his cargo pants, sending him into a frustrated panic. After much patting and smashing, he had cleared the contents of his trousers. The storm raged on, the only solace at this point was the forests which seemed to rain down spiders, although with less frequency. Kamakura stared up at the sky, wondering what he had done to be here.
Kamakura stood in place for some time. He was absolutely sealed away in deep contemplation. These trees were too dead to make a seaworthy raft. The spiders here could be highly venomous for all he knew, and he had several bites from the crawling pests. He had walked for what seemed like a mile inland at this point and nothing had changed about the scenery except the number of spiders and the number of dead bodies littered about. An odd phenomenon which Kamakura had picked up by now was that a vast majority of these bodies wore metal forehead protectors with all sorts of different designs on them. And some had weapons such as Katanas and shuriken sticking out of them. But the tech was nothing like back home.
"Hmph. Must be be some kind of primitive islanders inhabiting this place. In which case.."
He kept his hand hovering over his pistol carefully, prepared to pull it on anyone necessary.
WC: 772