2: The God of Vengeance

Ben stops, turning back to look at wherever they had just come from.

Still wondering if we ended up in the barn somehow. It would account for the hay and the stench. This... well, not so much...

He ignores the conversation from the religious types. He never put much faith in faith, feeling that either there simply was no God or that God was a major dick. What type of loving God lets people suffer like they did? What type of caring God lets men like Ben even come into being? Yeah, religion was something Ben just couldn't believe in. At least this abomination of a hellscape was happening. Some jerk sitting in the clouds, on the other hand...

Finally piping up and interjecting into the conversation, Ben says, "I don't think it matters. Spirits, religion, any of the hokus-pocus BS. What matters is the here and now. I don't care where we are, or where we think we are. I don't care about ghosts or Gods or planes of existence. I care about getting the hell out of here. So unless your fictional texts have a map or some GPS coordinates or something, let's keep moving. Save the theological theorizing until we're not... wherever we are."

With that, he heads directly toward the tree, drawing his sidearm again as he moves.

Martin Gomez

"That's why I was asking myself how we got here. Could help us with getting back."

Not impossible, but very unlikely. As far as he knows, they haven't really done anything that could have caused this ... whatever has happened. So reversing it isn't really an option.

"But we should keep on walking into that direction."

First rule: the guy with the gun is always right.

"Oh, and if we're trying to explain this with religion, we should consider that old viking stuff." He points at his rune-covered band shirt and the the grim warrior wearing a horned helmet that is featured on it. "Because a giant tree - Yggdrasil. So better look out for those valkyries."

He chuckles at his little joke even though he doesn't feel like joking at all.

I guess falling to your death and awakening in an odd place with strange people will do that to you. Even before one of them draws his weapon and none of them acts like you would expect a civilian to act. Almost as if ... but, no, that's highly unlikely.

Alona rolled her eyes at the others behind her and Michael. "I would call them heathens, but I guess by your point of view that would be Hypocritical right?" She gave Michael a little wink before turning back around and picking up the pace a little to the tree. "Sooner we get there sooner we figure something out."

Brother Michael Fisher

Michael calmly and quietly listens to the banter back and forth. Quite a interesting bunch he had ended up with, could this be a place known as Purgatory? He dared not voice it aloud for now and start another philosophical debate but he kept that thought in his mind. He felt the urge to say something but also felt it might upset someone. Then again, a sin worse than action was when good people do nothing. He gives a smile to Alona and follows Ben while walking beside her. "You are not a heathen miss. What is your name? I have yet to hear it." He figured he would start with proper introductions.

"I'm Alona Fire RavenCloud, pleased to meet you..? So what was your name?" She seamed much more lively and not as stunned as before, maybe she had snapped out of shock, maybe she was just OK with being in this place.

Oleg replies: "It's fine, no need for hospital. Who are you? Did you see what happened? Do you know anything about this? Did you see anyone else?"

Arcangelo Molinelli

Arcangelo chuckles as Oleg assails him with a string of questions. "My my, quite a lot of questions. I am Arcangelo, who are you? No, I don't think anyone else made it out. I'm not certain as to what is happening yet but I intend to find out. You may join me or fall like chaff from the wheat the same as everyone else." Arcangelo then turned around and proceeded towards the tree, not waiting to see if Oleg followed or not.

OLEG AND ARCANGELO

Perhaps it is Arcangelo's natural charisma, but you too, Oleg, are drawn towards the tree. The sight of Arcangelo moving towards it tugs at you on a basic level; in your mind, there is faint whisper. Join me or fall.... It is tiny, most insignificant at best, and perhaps your mind is simply repeating his words. Regardless, this strange feeling is tugging at you like a small child.

A gentle breeze stirs the apocalyptic atmosphere, and there is the faint tinkle of chimes on the wind. The wind blows from the direction of the tree, and Arcangelo will feel a slight, worldly imperfection. Something about the aura of the tree feels different here — like you're squeezing through a tight gap in a canyon. Or, perhaps more fittingly, a chink in an ancient wall.


THOSE BELOW

You too feel the wind, and hear the chimes on the breeze. Your noses are assaulted with the stench of death, and those sensitive enough feel a wriggling beneath your very skin. As you walk closer to the tree, you see a heap of something, splayed out and roughly four-limbed in shape. There is the sound of squishing and tearing flesh coming from it, as well as high-pitched, rat-like squeaks. Something squirms upon the surface, appearing and disappearing beneath the outer shell of...whatever it is.

What do you do?

Ben stops walking the moment he sees the thing poke out and vanish again. "Volunteers? Anyone?"

Alona like wise stops and moved behind Michael gently pushing him forward. "Umm.. By all means you go first."