[HH 2 v??] Come Away To The Slaughter(Alex, Bells, ???)[FIN]

[Seussi]

"It worked.." His voice as quiet, and his eyelids closed as Alexander slumped down to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "Oh thank jack it worked." So the affliction was curable. It was a thought that sparked some hope deep within the zomboil. They might be able to save everyone yet, but this had been a battle that had been hard won. Alexander didn't think he'd be able to do it again, not without a chance to rest and heal, a chance he didn't think he was going to be able to get.

His eyelids fluttered back open in time to see Belladonna crouching down next to Mort, reaching out to him to touch him gently on the shoulder. The zomboil suddenly felt very out of place, like this was a private moment and he was intruding upon it. Pushing himself back up to his feet, he staggered over towards the nearest wall, then slumped back against it, sliding down to the floor.

They needed a moment for the two of them, and he needed this moment to rest. The fog curled up and around him, over him, the very movement almost hypnotic. There were still sounds in the air that were impossible to ignore, still whispers and familiar noises that the zomboil wished he could escape. It seemed like in this weakened state, the call to go home became stronger, the longing burning deeper, but he tried to push it all away.

"Is he okay?" Alexander called out, suddenly, as he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, his body throbbing and sore from the recent battle.

Ol-j-man

AyeAvast

 

[medigel]

Almost immediately he recoiled away from her touch with a soft and strangled sound, so chilled to the bone that even a light brush from a living being felt like hot iron to him; moreso because it was her. Where moments ago Mort had felt nothing but burning hatred, now there was only a dull ache, a throb that distantly called him to come back Home where he belonged. But was it from the Insanity that tainted him or simply the room? As much as he looked and felt cured, the whispers still remained, and the change was too sudden for the zomboil to believe.

No, some part of this had to still be a dream, because all things were eventually twisted into nightmares. How else could she still call him darling after losing her in the mist seconds after making a promise that he wouldn't, or how he had been so weak-willed as to get taken up by the call for Home? It was the worst sort of ache to have Belladonna so close and be so Belladonna when it surely couldn't be her, and the "mrr" that escaped him reflected that.

Their voices seemed to sound as if coming from behind glass, and his reeling mind took longer to register what they were saying. And where they were, the circumstances, what he had done both now and before, and why - They all collided together into patchwork epiphany and, in his typical manner, he sought a plan to set things right. A bit dramatic and desperate, yes, but then Mort was a pragmatic planner who always believed in the worst case scenario. And right now he was sure he was living it.

It couldn't hurt to suggest the idea. They were only figments of his imagination after all, brought on by passing the event horizon of despair. Or at least it was the only way he could reconcile trying to talk to them instead of wallowing in guilty. They were here because he had not been there for them, and now was his chance to tell them what he couldn't before.

"A-Alex . . ." It was small and rough thanks to a raw throat, and when Mort swallowed he found it dry and hard to speak still. "O-Over here too . . ." He had to rely on his zombro for this, because he was one-hundred percent sure even the figment Bells wouldn't agree to this.

AyeAvast

 

[AyeAvast]

The recoil hurt so bad that the witch snatched her own hand back, totally sure she had done exactly what it was she hadn't wanted to do. They had worked so hard, taken so many hits and still it wasn't enough. Belladonna began to wonder, in a detached sort of way, whether she would ever be able to stop breaking Mort. If she would ever find a way to put him back together better, without any extra pieces or missing light. Today wasn't that day and whatever tears she had managed to push away during the fight now returned, warning to spill over and choke her up.
"You're ok..." She began softly, in a voice that was neither too sweet or too coaxing. It was raw, but in a different, too full of emotion way. This was the boil she loved, had put not only her own self but her friend's life, on the line for and the one she would continue to protect in whatever way she could. There was absolutely no way she could speak with any sort of reason right now, and hopefully whatever vestige of Mort remained would understand that.
"Please--" Please what? Come back to her? How many times had she said that? How many more times would she have to ask that of him? "Oh darling, you're alright..." She finally settled on, her hand slowly inching back to rest once more on his shoulder. Before he had always been sitting up, she had always had the option of just crawling into his lap and holding him. But now, he remained crumbled on the floor with no way for the witch to really help, unless she wanted to lie down on him. And as tired as she was, Belladonna knew if she got on the floor now she would not get back up.

So when he finally spoke, and it wasn't what she wanted, Belladonna felt what little bit of herself she'd kept together give up. No noise was made, no dramatic notes of self-pity or sobs were made as the witch began to cry. Instead the tears fell silently as she slowly let herself crumple. Shoulders sagged as the hand on Mort's shoulder turned to clench at his clothing, and slowly she bowed herself forward until her forehead rested on his back. Quietly she gave up, let herself dissolve into crying because it was never her that Mort wanted when he broke. It had always been her fault he'd been broken in the past, some strange reason or another but always was essentially Belladonna that had been the catalyst. And always when he broke he wanted nothing to do with her. Honestly she didn't blame him for that, but it always hurt so much.
The wounds sustained from this battle were nothing compared to the gaping sore that now resided within her, that now shook her entire body with pain. So she didn't say anything, just sat there and cried on him because there was absolutely nothing she could do. Alexander could fix this because he could be trusted. He had never broken the zombie, Alexander had never caused him harm. Once again the witch was massively grateful to the boil, and just waited and cried and hoped he could fix this where she never could.

Suessi

Ol-j-man

 

[Seussi]

Alex had resigned himself to this little place on the floor, this small area where he could rest and take a breather, so to speak. Of course, this didn't stop his mind from wandering towards the others that had been turned, that raw and horrible feeling associated with heart ache welling up from his stomach and burning painfully in his chest. He had helped Belladonna get back Mort, but he had no means the strength nor the resources to do the same for anybody else. He was just tired, emotionally wiped and and waiting for somebody to press his reset button so that he could maybe start again, and maybe the next time around not mess things up so badly.

He should have never have left the two alone to begin with. All for his advancement exam? It seemed so trivial now. So pointless. Such a pathetic cop out when he should have been here, helping, keeping the group together, keeping them strong. Even now he felt the weight of all of these things pushing down on him, and it was all he could do not to crumble and break beneath the pressure.

Numb, stay numb, don't think about the others, don't think about any of this. Just numb.

Mort's quiet and broken voice pulled him out of his reverie. Had him blinking away the mist, waving a hand in front of his face to swirl the fog away and give him a clearer view of the two in the center of the room. Hearing his name was not what he had expected, or for Mort to be summoning him closer. With a groan at the pain and discomfort it caused, Alexander slowly hoisted himself back up to his feet, pushing his back against the wall as he rose.

"Sure buddy, I'm coming." He mumbled, as he began his slow and steady shamble closer, eyeing the tearful Belladonna carefully, and crouching down beside her, laying first one cool hand against the back of her shoulder before reaching down to place his other on Mort.

"Glad to see we were able to pull you back." The smile that he forced himself to bare was weak at best, and his eye betrayed his general feeling of weariness and pain. It was hard talking to Mort, with his ghoulfriend crying silently here as well, and his zombro lying on the floor, unmoving. Why wasn't everyone more happy about this? They had saved him, Jackdamnit!

"Come on, lets get you on your feet. We need to get out of here." If that was even possible, at this point. And if they did escape, where exactly were they supposed to go? Maybe back to the horseman tent, to Medea, to grab more vials....

Ol-j-man

AyeAvast

 

[medigel]

Something faltered in him at the sensation of tears leeching through his clothes, made him stiffen and quiver all at once. More mind games, or . . . ? No, it couldn't be real; the cure couldn't have been so simple. But the memories that laid at the forefront of his mind told a different story, and he couldn't deny that the two of them, figments or not, had played a very large role in making this happen. The chaos of Insanity clouded his normally logical mind until Mort couldn't tell what made sense anymore - the most he could hold onto and trust was what he could physically feel, so that was what he focused on.

Pain. Tears. Hands. Friends, not enemies. Close friends. Ghoulfriend and zombro. Was he really back then? Was he really cured? But he felt such an intense amount of anxiety at the thought of leaving the room . . . Maybe he wasn't completely alright like she thought.

Slowly Mort lifted his head until his nose was above his knees and, trembling, unwrapped on arm long enough to fumble its way to the witch and grasp at her hand, her wrist, something to steady himself and act as a security blanket. He had the look of a frightened scareling as he gave Alex a small shake of his head, hating every moment of looking so vulnerable but unable to stop himself. "C-Can't go . . . H-How did you . . .?" His creaking voice trailed off as he looked up at the other zomboil with wide eyes.  

[AyeAvast]

The hand on her shoulder unwound whatever remained of the witch and actually made a small sob well up, a tiny noise she tried to break off before it got too loud. It just wasn't fair that she at least had Mort, however broken, when Alexander had nothing. Already regretful of the awful things she'd said to him during their first battle here in the Haunted House, the fact that he was so giving in her time of need made the witch feel all the worse. She felt so small that she was certain she'd slip through the floorboards and leave the friends to their healing. They didn't need her, they couldn't use her because she couldn't even find the proper card to heal with. Useless and weak the witch pulled back as Mort began to sit up, hastily wiping tears from her down turned face. Red bangs covered her eyes as bruised hands gingerly rubbed at stained cheeks while she sat there and felt the crushing weight of pity for herself.
When she let one hand begin to fall, to let it crumple it was instead snatched out of the air. Unable to stop, Belladonna watched the blue hand clutch at her own and for one long moment she could not understand.
But as her hand was pulled, as it was clutched and encased in the familiar chill, she found it no longer mattered. All that mattered was that, even if it was small, he still wanted her. Already spent the witch only wrapped her arms around him, her face pressed into whatever part she could reach.
"You can do whatever you want." She mumbled, an echo of all the times she'd pulled him from whatever despair he'd even been in.

One hand detached from him to momentarily grasp at Alexander and pull him close too. He'd been the one to do the saving, to be the hero. While the witch could lend some light and maybe keep the darkness out, it would have to be the zombie who pulled his brethren up.
As for his question, Belladonna could not answer. That was Alexander's work and accomplishment. She would let him tell that, let him bask in that glory. Quietly she promised to do whatever she could for the boil, to provide him with an entire wardrobe and more, one hand grasped onto a bit of his clothing as she promised all that and far more to him. Never would she forget that it was Alexander who said her full name and helped her and returned to her the only thing she'd ever wanted. Maybe she could learn from this and move forward, but she would always and forevermore be in his debt.
It was not the worst place to be and Belladonna was more than happy to be in such a place if it meant something good had happened.

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

Ahhh, she was sobbing now. Alex felt a strong urge to pull his hand away, like it was his touch that had made her somehow more upset then she already was. Somehow he managed to not move, however, and instead rubbed small circles against her shoulder with two of his fingers. "Shhhh, it's okay. He's back now. Everything will be fine. Don't cry, Belladonna, or you'll get me started too." He tried to smile, tried to make it into a joke, but there was nothing funny about this situation at all, and he found his own throat tightening up despite trying his hardest not to let his emotions get to him.

Mort was moving, finally, grabbing for Belladonna, the two of them gravitating closer together, and now he did move his hand away, from both of them. He wanted to leave, wanted to let them heal through this emotional pain together, and was about to move back and away to give them some privacy again when Mort spoke.

"What do you mean you can't go? We have to leave." He stated, his own voice a low. "It's not safe to stay here, more of them could be coming."

Belladonna was grabbing for him, pulling him in closer to both of them, and for just a split second he fought it, tried to pull out of her grasp, then just gave in with a sigh. Apparently they were going to drag him into this heal fest, whether he wanted it or not. "A vial, from the head priestess." Was Alex's only answer. He wasn't about to go into any details on the matter. It was initiate stuff, and Belladonna was not an initiate.

"All she said was to take one, and save them. It was just a guess that it would work on you."

Ol-j-man

so sorry for the wait!

 

[medigel]

Everything is alright. Why did that sound so hollow? Everything was /not/ alright, that was why. Mort had the distinct feeling that he was doing something wrong again, else why would Belladonna still be crying? Or maybe she knew too that his sanity wouldn't last. While no longer a fog monster, the zomboil was still niggled at by little doubts and the room's whispers were doing a fantastic job of helping that.

Logic. He needed to follow logic again because that was one of the most painful things ripped from him during his misty stint. Logic was a cold, cruel thing today however, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he listened to Alex's explanation, delaying the inevitable words that would spill from him.

"Vials? Medea? Mrr..." The concoction he assumed had been something from an alchemist, some other means to destroy the creatures the haunted house kept creating. The horsemen's power once again awed Mort into a brief silence as he contemplated the seeming miracle cure. Here had to be a limited supply, else why would it only now appear? And as much as it would have relieved him to think so, it was highly improbable that the vial had the means to permanently cure Insanity. On that note, he decided to believe he only had a limited time before the fog took him back.

After a moment he pulled his head up a little more so that it rested entirely on his knees, summoned his strength, and slowly began to ease himself up on his feet, sliding Belladonna's arms off and maneuvering her in front of him. Though Mort addressed them both, his eyes were fixated on the witch's. "Is right; can't stay here," he said gently, keeping ahold of her hands. "More /will/ come because more will turn. If absolutely must, get more vials, see if can find Yin...B-But would much rather you both get out now before fog taints you too. S'not limited to Insanity o-or..." He wanted to say the tagged students, but he still thought Belladonna didn't know, and Alex had made him promise not to tell.

"C-Can't leave for very long...What if cure is only temporary? Would cause more trouble at Amityville, bring fog home, be nothing b-but trouble. Maybe is better I stay, help keep creatures off of. You understand, yes?" They wouldn't, he was sure of that; but he clung to the line of logic anyway. He then turned an imploring gaze to the zomboil. "I-In any case: Alex, promise me will bring her out of here safe no matter what happens. /Please/. M'not losing you both too, not when still have a chance to get out."

AyeAvast

yo turrnnnn

 

[AyeAvast]

A watery "I am sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry" was Alexander's reply, as the witch took a few shuttering breaths in attempt to calm herself and keep from full out sobbing. The little motion on her shoulder did not help, but finally she was able to at least keep from sobbing, if her tears did not fully cease. As the two talked over the vials, spoke of the secret they shared that the witch was not privy to, she quickly brushed away as many tears as she could. The hand on Alexander let go and busied itself with making her look at least somewhat presentable. Surely she looked a fright, cheeks stained with tears and eyes leaking more. All this rubbing of fingers against face had most likely made her skin red and splotchy, but all those were so small, so silly compared to what was going on. The voices were still there, still whispering to her and coaxing her forward into the pit of despair that waited for her. It would not leave, but it was patient and knew she would return to it. The witch always did.
When pulled to the front of Mort, Belladonna was quick to comply, easy to move as she shifted where he put her. Muscles tensed as she helped to pull him up, to offer what strength she could for the moment. The chill that seeped into her skin was welcome enough to make her start to cry again, but she blinked away the tears and steeled herself to stop such useless actions. Once he was fully standing, the witch tucked herself forward under his arm, where she could help him stand, but be as close as possible.

"Only Alexander can acquire more vials..." She mumbled, certain now would be not only the wrong time to offer becoming an Initiate, but as well as to even consider it. At his next words the witch kept her sigh from bubbling out, mostly because surely Mort knew what she would say. Surely he expected the way she opened her mouth, one hand clenching into his shirt as she spoke.
"We'll leave... But not now. Please, just... Let me stay with you for a few moments more." Asking a favor now might not be the best, but appeasing at least part of his request was better than flat out refusing. In no position to really fight either of them, Belladonna only looked up at Mort, her own pleading look on her face. "If there is a temporary cure, there has to be a permanent one. Its just not been found yet, but it will... So do not give up hope. We'll find a way."
Perhaps now was even more wrong of a moment in which to give a heartfelt speech on hope, but it was something Belladonna could not stop. The way he talked made it seem as though he believed this to be forever. And that was something the witch absolutely refused to consider. Maybe Mort could convince her to leave after she'd gotten to hold him, to press some sort of emotion to him, but not now. And there was certainly no way she'd give up on this, not him. Of all things he should know that.
As if she could help her case any, the witch took a quick peek at Alexander and also gave him an imploring gaze. Maybe Mort would refuse her, would continue to tell her 'no' when she asked something of him, but she was almost certain the same could not be said for his zombro. The witch was a flighty, careless thing while Alexander was constant. And it didn't matter that Belladonna had been there for him just as much as the fellow zombie, she had also been the one to help hurt him, where Alexander never had. So maybe at least he could convince Mort to let her linger a little longer.

Seussi

Ol-j-man

 

[Seussi]

"There weren't very many..." He admitted, gaze shifting to the floor as he kicked at the mist that was engulfing his feet. "But yes, Medea..." He frowned at the recollection of the Priestess, curled up, staring at a pile of embers, the look on her face desolate and empty. He wished he could discuss it with Mort, that his zombro was okay and that together they could bounce around ideas on what exactly was happening and how to try and make it better.

And then Mort was talking. Some nonsense about leaving him behind, about not knowing if the effect of the vials was temporary or permanent. It was not a question he had chosen to ask of the priestess, who looked not at all like she was in any fit state to answer said questions anyways. She had simply said to take the vials, and to save them, and nothing more. "I don't know how many more I would be allowed to take, if there are any left at all. And Yin---" He took in a deep breath now, then let it hiss out, his body deflating slightly.

"Mort, I'm sorry but you nearly killed me before I could try this vial out on you. There's no way I'll be able to do that again without risking dissipation. And something tells me that dissipating in this place is not a good idea. And frankly, your idea of me and Belladonna leaving and finding safety sucks, because for one, we're in the jack damned house now and I have no idea how to get out, and two, WE'RE NOT LEAVING YOU." His voice was an angry growl, full of frustration. When Alex's emotional level got too high, when he got too stressed out, his more primal nature tended to take over, and his anger began to over ride everything else.

Anger was easier to deal with then heart ache, sadness, and emotional pain after all.

"I did not risk killing myself to try and bring you back only to run away now. And no, I will not promise your ghoulfriends safety. I am done with promises that I can not keep." Promises to keep himself safe from harm for Yin, promises to never leave him, or ask him to leave, promises to fight to stay with him forever. No, no more empty promises that only left him feeling endless guilt and emptiness.

"Why not let Belladonna make her own decisions, hm? She risked just as much as I did for you, I think she has a right to decide for her jack damned self whether or not we leave, and it sounds to me like she'd rather stay." His arms were crossing over his chest now, his brows drawn down in a glower.

"No matter what we do, we're going to die here. The sooner everyone understands that, the better." He muttered, bitterly, his tone softening just slightly as his anger began to wind down once more. It just wasn't worth it to fight about this.

Ol-j-man

omg I developed a cold overnight and it's killing me I'm sorry if this post sucks

 

[medigel]

It was funny. On any other occasion he might have fought Alexander on those points and, if really stressed, might have thrown another punch without being asked for it this time. But in this circumstance Mort bristled for a moment, pondered his bro's outburst, and then slumped his shoulders with a surprisingly grateful sigh, as though he had been holding something up and was at last being relieved of the burden; if Belladonna hadn't been under his arm, he might have receded back to the floor even. Then again, it wasn't very hard to give in at this point, especially after the effect his ghoulfriend was having on him - even if Alex hadn't gotten angry, Mort would have probably relented under those pleading pink eyes, if only because he was craving that familiar warm touch.

In reality the last thing Mort wanted to do was be alone, but it had been a compulsion to suggest otherwise, a symptom of his ever growing martyr complex that held a strange power over him, much like a person with obsessive-compulsion was ruled by their rituals. But his idea had been out, it had been shot down, and now he felt free and more than willing to acquiesce to their thoughts.

"Thank you . . ." It probably sounded out of place after Alex's outburst, but the zomboil didn't have the energy to explain himself at the moment. He wanted to argue that they could still make it out if they made this trip quick, that Alex didn't have to assume they would die there, but . . . in a twisted way the idea of them all going Home together comforted him. Maybe it was the last vestiges of Insanity still talking, or maybe Mort was desperate enough, selfish enough even, to want company going through dire straits to stay together. Zombies weren't meant to go alone - he had learned that the hard way.

Squeezing the witch closer, he offered them a tired half-smile. "Alright then. If can't convince to leave, can convince to come with? Should go find out a-about these vials n' where Medea found or made them. Could be best lead to figuring out what brought Insanity n' how to combat mist . . . Maybe figure out what's going on too." Since, well, the house had never acted like this before. "A-Any place other than here . . ."

Away from the whispers, out in the open, and on the prowl for answers: if this really wasn't a permanent fix, then he was going to make the most out of his time left.

(( Exit! ))  

[AyeAvast]

The hiss from Alexander startled the witch a little, so that momentarily she craned her head around Mort's arm to look up at him with wide eyes. Listening to his words made the witch feel better and worse, because on one hand she was grateful for his words. They were exactly what she wanted to say, exactly what she wanted to tell him, to yell at him and stamp her feet about. But on the other hand, she was a coward and couldn't dare to say all that. The fact that Alexander did, made Belladonna pause and give him a face that almost hinted at a thankful smile. It was close enough to count as she tucked her face back into Mort's chest to hide her contentment over, more or less, being stood up for. It wasn't something she left herself open for often, mostly because she did quite a good job of doing the thing herself. So it might be a bit inconsequential, but the witch was still glad that at least someone found her worthwhile. Yet at the zombie's pronouncement about dying, the witch once more pulled her head back, only this time she furrowed her eyebrows at Alexander.
"None of us are going to die here." Belladonna asserted, in a voice that was strong without being truly angry. It was said with conviction, but soft enough to indicate it was something she felt at least somewhat emotional over.

Unable to really continue on in her little speech of hope, the witch instead had to put herself forward into the task of keeping Mort standing. As he was much taller (and a bit heavier, as well as stronger) than herself, the witch momentarily struggled with the task, but eventually found her feet, though her fingers still clutched tightly to the fabric of his jacket.
The 'thank you' caught her off guard, made the witch actually pause. Had they... Had she and Alexander broken through the strange hero complex shield and actually staunched this silly need to be alone? So surprised to have won this battle so easily, Belladonna quickly pressed a kiss to the left side of the zombie's chest, a familiar spot she always seemed to kiss. The squeeze was encouragement enough for her to give her own hug, but his acquiescence felt like a dream.
"I'll go wherever you want!" Belladonna chirped, right before Mort mentioned the Priestess. Immediately she regretted saying it, for a variety of reasons. "I do not... I do not think I can visit the tent. I am not..." The witch gestured to both Mort and Alexander, in a manner that was supposed to mean she was not Initiated like they were. More than that, she was not invited.

Still, the way he tacked on that additional request, that want to be away from this room, from the whispers if he could... Never able to refuse anything of Mort, the witch only sighed before she let her forehead drop to rest against his chest. This would mean actually meeting Medea, actually coming face to face with the absent creature she'd dumped all her hatred and anger onto. It would mean having to look upon the person she'd blamed for everything that had ever gone wrong with Mort, having to potentially speak to the woman who had Initiated him and no longer saw him, or Alexander, or all the others, as actual people, but mindless soldiers. It meant making real an ideal. And that in of itself was frightening, let alone going into the area special only to the Clans and Initiates. That was a whole other kettles of onions on its own, but Belladonna only extracted her head and looked up at Mort.
I am a horrid creature made weak with love. Cannot refuse him a thing, can I?
"Whatever you want, love." Belladonna finally settled on, chancing to rise up on her toes and place the softest of kisses to the underside of his jaw, too weak and tired to actually aim for his cheek. Unable to refuse him anything, the witch could at least gather what deep emotion she felt for him and twist that into courage. For Mort, and certainly for the friendship and loyalty she felt to Alexander, Belladonna would brave this meeting. For them both she would chance this strange encounter, but for her love of Mort she would continue to stand and support him, to carry him if need be, to this encounter. Perhaps unable to refuse a request yes, but weak with love, certainly not.
So, still supporting him, Belladonna was quick to follow, glad for the cover of the fog that kept them both from seeing the fact that her legs had become vaguely transparent. Something was not right...

xSeussi

emotion_bigheart

xOl-j-man

heart

 

[Seussi]

Wow. Yelling and ranting and going all out angry actually got him somewhere for once. Normally when he did something like that...well, it never ended well, anyways. Both Belladonna and Mort seemed ready to leave, though the latter was probably still opposed, despite for whatever reason thanking Alexander.

The zomboil was getting a lot of thank you's today. It wasn't his first, and unfortunately, it was not to be his last.

"Yes. I really have no idea how long they last, and Medea just looked so despondent that I really didn't feel comfortable asking her any questions at the time." The zomboil lifted up a hand to run fingers through his hair, casting his glance over towards Belladonna. Would the high priestess be upset if they brought the ghoul along with them? Did Alexander really even care at this point?

"Alright, lets go...I think it was this way." The zomboil shuffled on ahead, giving Belladonna as reassuring a smile as he could manage as he made his way in front of the two. "Keep your eyes and ears open for any insanity creatures...." Not that it would make much difference if they were to get attacked.

The zomboil pressed on wards into the fog, and hoped to jack that the other two were still following. He did not want to end up alone out here.

((crappy exit tag ahoy~))