Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Raze this Barn-- Er, House!

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    Mortis
    Petabyte

    Petabyte

    Posts : 925
    Join date : 2014-03-22
    Location : Deadworld
    Level : 60

    Character Sheet
    Defense Bar:
    65/65  (65/65)
    Health Bar:
    650/650  (650/650)
    Stamina Bar:
    120/120  (120/120)

    Raze this Barn-- Er, House!

    Post by Mortis on Sun Mar 06, 2016 2:09 pm

    Time: 3:00 AM
    Date: March 1st, 0006

    Mortis had to admit, there was far more worth salvaging from this rotted husk of a dwelling than he initially thought. Inside the barn the superfiend had accumulated a worthy hoard of appliances, a few chests, two bathtubs he ripped out of both bathrooms, and the old analog television that was in the living room. Currently the undead was rifling through a chest he plucked from the attic, filled with old clothing , some knicknacks that were possibly heirlooms... Or just junk.

    It was hard to tell exactly which.

    To him, clothing in itself was not a necessity, his leather jumpsuit and dark trench coat was enough for him, it covered his host and feel him feel less naked than he would if he had merely opted to walk around in his leathers. However, the ghoul could not deny that cloth had its uses, and there were many kinds of it in this old chest. Cotton, polyester, wool, even some silk! perhaps he could put the materials to better use than the outfits themselves, as he pulled out an old summer dress to inspect.

    Nope, bright pastel floral patterns were not exactly his motif. But the quality of the cloth was something that the ghoul could not ignore. He could use this for something. What, exactly, remained to be seen.

    Placing the dress back in the wooden chest, he moved onto the next one he managed to drag out of the attic, this one oddly enough having a sturdy lock upon it. Hm, what could be inside of it? A gentle touch from his decrepit talons was all he needed to rust away the padlock, and pried open the vessel with a dull groan of old wood and tarnished brass hinges. Oh... Now wasn’t this a lovely surprise! Mortis’ tail flicked to either side, eager as he reached into the chest and pulled out the loot that lay within. Greened fingertips traced gingerly down the length of a steel double barrel, straight and sturdy, with nary a sign of decay or rust along the surface. His hand grasped at a dark wooden stock, which fit in his large palm in a manner of a person holding a pistol than a shotgun. His index finger rest around the trigger guard and he brought it up to eye level as if he were aiming to fire.

    Oh, yes... This was a keeper. Now all he had to do was find a place that sold bullets and maybe a saw to give it a little more punch at close range.

    Setting the weapon aside He nearly closed the lid before something caught the edge of his eye socket. A faint glimmer of polished metal could be seen at the bottom of the deep chest, the tip of another firearm peeking out from under a protective cloth. Peeling it back, he found the gun was not the only one, for there was a hunting rifle stored just under it. Someone in the family was an avid fan of deer hunting, it seemed. Just like the first one, this gun looked to be good working order, as Mortis turned it about and gave it a once over.

    Promising, very promising... He set the rifle back in the box for safe keeping, picking up the shotgun and placing it with it until he could find some suitable shells. As he clicked the lid shut, Mortis gave the chest a hard shove and sent it sliding to rest with the other things he found useful in the house.

    A third chest had been carried down from the attic and brought to rest on the barn floor, though this one seemed lighter than the other two he had found. Not that he could properly discern weight from touch, but the ghoul noticed that it did not sound as heavy when he set it down. For a moment he wondered if the container was empty, as he flipped up the brass latch upon the front and opened it. Waving aside the accumulated dust, Mortis dipped his snout in to find... something.

    Yellowed claws wrapped around smooth wooden edges, his find making a hollow sound as he accidentally bumped it bringing it out of the chest. Oh, well wasn’t this just cliche. A house in the country, lived in by farmers, having a chest with an old guitar in it. He turned it over in his hands, the instrument dwarfed by his lanky form, as were most human-sized objects. Perhaps he should add it to the pile of stuff that was going to be burned, he never really saw himself going into music at all.

    Sitting back in the dust with it, Mortis fit the shoulder strap over his neck and held it, fingers resting on the neck while the claw of his thumb experimentally gave the strings a few plucks. The superfiend was not gifted by any means, but he managed to pull a few notes from it, off-key notes, but notes nonetheless. He regarded it with a thoughtful hum, removing the strap from around his shoulder.

    ...Well, he had been told before that he needed a hobby aside from killing. Practicing his aim on the local rednecks would grow dull after a while -how, he did not know- perhaps plucking some tunes out of this old thing would give a welcome activity to put some energy towards.

    After all, he had eternity to spend on this loathsome rock.

    The guitar was placed back in the chest and put with the rest of the stuff he decided would be useful to keep around, the side of the chest coming to rest up against the one that held the two guns. What else was there for him to look through...

    ----

    Time: 5:00 AM

    By the time the sun had managed to peek over the rolling, snowy hills, Mortis had arranged a suitable small mountain of what he wanted to keep, and a small hill of what he decided was best to be thrown on the bonfire with the rotted wood.

    Speaking of that... Mortis pushed open the barn door, the darkened interior greeted with the morning’s bright golden rays and crisp cold air. Music played softly from a portable radio the superfiend had decided to tie to the side of his belt, the speaker crackling and popping from age, but not enough to prevent the undead from recognizing a tune to hum along to as he made his way to the front of the house. Now then, where was she...

    No sooner had he wondered, a thick mist started to roll in, blotting out the warm sun’s rays and dousing the front yard in a bleak, cold grey. Heavy hooves thudded against the frosted grass, although as a familiar, equine rictus grin emerged from the fog, another set of footsteps could be heard close behind. A second grinning horse-like face poked through the mist, far more skeletal than Samhain’s. In fact, this one in general looked a little worse for wear when compared to Mortis’ steed of choice. Yet, where it was lacking in structural integrity, the undead animal made up for it in sheer mass. This creature looked like it could knock aside twice what Samhain could, a skeletal tail whipping behind it as the living horse carcass came to stand before Mortis

    ”Angemort.” He greeted his creation fondly, giving the risen horror a pat upon the nasal ridge before leading the two horses around to the side of the house. Waiting for the both of them was pulling gear that Mortis had so graciously relieved from one of their neighbors during the night.

    They would only miss it as much as they would miss living, he reasoned. How much did they miss living? Well, given the rotted remains of their corpses were still laying around on their ranch... They probably did not miss it very much.

    It did not take long for the superfiend to put the gear upon the two draft animals, ensuring they were trapped into the harnesses correctly before hitching a set of thick chains to the both of them. Where they lead to? Two support beams on either corner of the house’s side. The wall around them both had been rotted away to expose the wooden beams for attachment, and all around the outside of the house and parts of the inside, a similar hole had been rotted into them. Although whatever supports Mortis found, he rotted away.

    Not that house needed much more decay settled into it, the building looked about ready to collapse on its own from how it slouched and gently swayed in the wind. Regardless, the undead knew better than to assume it would merely topple over because it looked ready to.

    ”Hup!” The superfiend barked, waving his arm to usher the two drafts forward. With a puff of chilly air from their nostrils, Samhain and Angemort pulled, their hooves tearing chunks of earth out of the ground and tossing it behind them. It did not take long before Mortis noticed the house started to groan and lean in the direction that the horses were pulling. Wisely he moved closer to the barn, observing and directing mentally as the house leaned further and further towards falling over. Straining and chomping at the bit turned to a strenuous stride forward, emaciated haunches low as they quickly brought the house to its knees.

    CRRRRREEEEE--BOOOOOOM!

    What was once a tired looking two-story farm house was now a pile of rotted wood and broken glass on the ground. The two drafts still pulling as they trotted forward with part of a bedroom wall hanging from their harnesses. Mortis eased them with a mental soothe, the two beasts coming to a halt and waiting as the ghoul came to disconnect them from the shattered farmhouse.
    ”Good girlsss.” he hissed, giving each a pat on the neck before he went about pulling the harnesses down from them. Leather straps sat on the snowy ground, soon joined by they heavy yokes that once sat around their necks. His snout turned to look back at the toppled house, his work far from finished. There was still much that needed to be removed before this place was ready for the construction crew tomorrow.

    Thankfully, they still had most of the day to do it, and in the evening, the bonfire would be worthy of Fire’s praise, should the eternally flaming skeleton have managed to arrive on this world. A small sigh puffed from the superfiend’s chest, eager to get to work. Without further ado, he waded into the mess and started dissecting and moving chunks of the rotted wood and ruined wall paneling out towards the middle of the grassy field out back.

    -----

    Time: 8:00 PM

    By the time the sun had started to set, Mortis had managed to pull up the flooring that remained where the house once stood, piping and wiring were rusted and rotted away after being taken apart. The home’s plumbing was already corroded from his presence back in August, to destroy it would be the loss of nothing of true value. Copper and iron held no value to the superfiend, neither did the tons of rotted wood that he moved to a steadily growing pile of discarded wall paneling, flooring, insulation, ruined furinture and who knew what else that crumbled alongside the withered structure.

    It was only after the sun was down completely that the ghoul managed to complete his task, a large bonfire pile of blackened wood peaking beneath his feet. A final armful of planks was added to the mass before he made his way down it for the last time. Set aside for just an occasion were a few large gas cans full of kerosene, pilfered from another very generous, very dead neighbor further down the street.

    They would not mind if Mortis put all this flammable fluid to good purpose. At least they would not mind for the seven days they spent in the strange purgatory that existed in this dimension. Alas, he could not be so lucky as to have tow households graciously give up their sinful existences and seek enlightenment in death.

    No, they had to turn to a cloud of bright blue code.

    Well, there would be little for them to miss, for the sheep-skulled undead made quick work of emptying each cannister over the remains of the farmhouse, drenching the wood with kerosene until each and every gas can was completely empty and the air reeked of it. He tossed aside the last container to pile up with the rest, a clawed hand pushing aside the edge of his overcoat to pull out his lighter.

    With a few clicks a small flame was produced, and as the undead stooped down and let it catch onto one of the lighter fluid soaked boards...

    FWOOOOOMPF!

    That small flame turned to a hungry, raging inferno. Mortis stepped back, taking a seat on the snow-covered field as he watched the flames grow higher and higher, eating away at the past and making room for the future.

      Current date/time is Sun Sep 24, 2017 4:21 am