Meltdown

Trevor slid to a halt. He had also seen that they were being surrounded, not good when one was fighting Ulfkin. He didn't like the idea of going to the Halls of the Messiah, there was great darkness there. but he also saw no choice. He drew his pistol. The Halls of the Messiah would have to work. He aimed, squeezing the trigger three times. Three of the horde fell. The smell of fire, charred flesh, & blood filled the Vikings lungs, replacing the dying scents before. He quickly squeezed one more round off. He hoped had bought the others time, he had not escaped a Odin be damned HERSIR to let these cowards die at the hands of Ulfkin. He breathed deep. The guns & ammo would weigh him down quite a bit, but he had more physical training than the others. He pondered if he would be able to keep up. He chuckled. If not, he had quite a few things in the bag to make one Hell of a boom.

Tim hadn't been much of a track star when he was in school, when they had schools, he had always been more of an endurance runner, though he was quite agile thanks to his size. Stronger than he looked, he hefted the guns, ammo and equipment towards the rest of the group, as taking out the Hersir had put him behind the others. He saw Tevor doing the same, though much closer than he was. The viking was fast, that was for sure. Jakub and Taylor were engaging some smaller enemies, though they certainly looked dangerous, and were making their way up the road to where the Hall of the Messiah were. They had cleared some enemies, epecially those in the way of our objective, but there were many more. Tim kept running, running until he was ten meters out from Taylor and Jakub. He took the rifle off of his shoulder and rested the stock on his shoulder, crouched, aimed, and killed a man, though he seemed more animal. He did the same for more of the madmen, taking them out according to proximity to the relatively undefended Taylor and sometimes to those approaching the Inquisitor from the rear, for though his skills in hand-to-hand combat were great, he had to focus on only a few at a time, and then only those he could see. He reloaded, then heard a cry from behind him. One of the madmen had flanked him and was approaching him from the rear, but by the time Tim saw him he was bleeding from a flaming chest. Trevor stood holding his pistol, the barrel smoking, a wild eyed look on his face, then he ran towards the fray and took aim at another berserker.

And JP, I agree with you, I've been controlling other people's actions a lot and I'll stop, though on occaision I will do it just for plot's sake, such as at the end of the paragraph above. I feel like as long as it coincides with the personality of the character, the occaisional writing of another's actions should be fine. But we can't abuse it!

Sorry for the edits and confusion. Now we are on the right track again. Awesome. Let us continue.

Jakub and Taylor continued their journey North, towards the giant, round building looming around two hundred feet away. the Halls of the Messiah. Taylor was up front, shooting a path through the incoming Ulfmen, while the young Inquisitor protected the boy's back. The multiple opponents facing him at the time gave the Catholic no time to go on the offensive, so he just parried frantically, the saber much quicker than the madmen's axes. There were still three of them facing him.
The Inquisitor started to run out of energy.

Trevor knew the Inquisitor wouldn't last long, he had to intervene. He shifted the wight of his burden tto his left side, drawing his pistol whilst running. If his friend's were still alive, & he made these shots, he would brag until his death. He took aim, & fired three times. The first volley impacted against the Ulf's skull, taking a good chunk of it away while leaving the bulk of it aflame. The second hit the Ulf in the stomach which was unsatisfactory, but put him down. The third hit the Ulf in the shoulder, but only wounded him. Damn, Trevor thought, How the fuck did I do that? He kept running.

Trevor was rushing into the battle, like a madman himself. Three loud shots, three loud yelps of pain. Jakub was faring well, but slowing down. He had been shot in the shoulder, he needed medical care soon. Blood still leaked from his wound. Tim rushed to fall in behind Trevor, crouch-running backwards to make sure no more madmen flanked them, rifle in hand. The rifle he held, the viking weapon, reminded Tim of an older assault rifle with a shorter barrel, longer magazine and a fixed rifle stock like most old sniper rifles, very sturdy, no creak. It was mostly black with a gunmetal barrel. Lots of workmanship had probably gone into its making, but it didn't try to be more than it was, no gold accents or elaborate carvings in a wooden handgrip. Tim stared down the sights, lined up the white stripe on the front sight with that on the back, found a target and fired. The shot flew through a madman's neck, hopefully severing many arteries. No time to find out, advance closer and look for another. Tim got up and ran twenty feet or so, now only fifteen meters out from Jaukub, Taylor and ten meters out from Trevor, who was about to reach the fight. He aimed and fired, this one a headshot that burst into a cloud of red. Tim smirked slightly, and killed two more berserkers. Again he sprinted, crouched, and fired. They were coming from everywhere now, the North, the West, the East, but very few from the south, where he was. This time he stayed crouched for a while longer, trying to kill as many as possible before they reached the three men fighting in the middle of the street. Then he stood up, reloaded, and began a slow walk towards the rest of the group, keeping his rifle up and firing accurately as he went.
A yell, no, a roar surfaced behind him, only ten feet behind him. A madman with an axe too big for him to control with much force stood there, smiling. He knew where he had seen the look before, on Trevor's face as he rushed into battle. The madman started walking towards him, and Tim took a shot. It hit his right lower torso, only causing him to reel backwards momentarily and come back with even more anger and force. The axe swung, and Tim directed the slice away from him with the frame of his rifle, making contact with the long shaft of the axe and angling it sideways as he rolled the other way. He held his rifle by the frame with his left and and removed the small kinfe from its sheath on his belt, flipping the blade outwards and lunging at the madman, who was stuggling to lift his huge axe back up. He hit the madman in the right-front side of the neck, the look of surprise evident in the madman's eyes. The madman collapsed, bleeding profusely from the neck. Tim resheathed his knife, grasped the grip of his rifle and kept walking forward, shooting whoever he could.

The young viking did a great job at shooting down some Ulfs attacking Taylor and Jakub. There was only one left next to him, and Trevor's bullet pierced his shoulder. As soon as the Inquisitor saw his opportunity, as the single remaining enemy grunted from pain, he was not hesitant to strike, an overhead, perfectly straight saber cut that cleaved the viking's unprotected head right in half.
Jakub kicked the corpse away, freeing his saber.
They were getting close to the border of the Norse sector, a tall, broken steel gate was their last obstacle, before reaching the Christians. The center of the city. The origin of this evil.
The Ulfserkers began to retreat.
They were safe.
Jakub and Taylor reached the broken gate.

Did you read what I said? "And we've gone over that I'm not good at coming up with imaginative guns." Help a brotha out...
Tim was relieved that the beserkers were retreating, knowing they couldn't win despite their advantage in numbers. He and Trevor began a fast jog down the street to the metal gate where Jakub and Taylor waited. As he was running, Tim realized his shoulder still hurt from the Hersir's punch. He grasped it with his right hand, slowing him down some. Once he reached the broken wall, which was spattered with old blood, he caught his breath at last and dropped the guns and ammo he was carrying. "Holy shit, what just happened?" he asked, not entirely confident someone would have a reasonable answer. He saw Jakub's wound, a clean hole through his shoulder that bled after all of that action. "Hey man, we're going to need to bandage that up," he said, stating the obvious. He fished through his backpack for something that might work, but found nothing.

Dude, don't worry about your guns, for all I care you can run around with an AK-47. I mean, we fought a giant fucking viking that had a CANNON on his shoulder. Our world is so fucked up that I wouldn't be surprised if we met a goblin that breathed unicorns. (Hm... sounds like a good idea.) So yeah, feel free to use guns similar to ours. It's an alternate universe, so it can't be too different from our world.

"Here." Said the Inquisitor, his Catholic lack of emotion somewhat disturbing. He passed his linen bag to Tim.
"You seem to know how to shoot. And I'm guessing your scientific knowledge does include the basics of medicine."
Inside of the bag there was a first aid kit, and the Inquisitor's loaded flintlock pistol. The weapon looked almost too decorated for regular use. It was covered in Latin writing, embedded in all the metallic parts of the gun.
"Save that shot for something big. I'll let you know."
He reached into the bag, pulling out another glass capsule. Just like last time, Jakub broke off the top, and richly spread the powder inside and outside his wound.
"Coagulation agent and a painkiller in one. Don't look for anything fancy in that kit, it's just bandages and around eight of those things."
"I'll be fine." he added, turning his back towards Tim, and leaving the linen bag in his hands.
The Halls of the Messiah loomed over them, the center of the city. A calm, quiet evil was in the air.
The Inquisitor was used to it.

Hey man, it's cool. Good luck in the marathon, I could never sum up the endurance for that, I'm more of a long distance swimmer and a hiker.

Tim put the first aid kit in one of the outside pockets of his backpack, on the left side so he could swing the pack around his shoulder and reach for it with his right hand. He took the gun more hesitantly, it felt like it just wasn't right for him to hold it. "Thanks, I'll put it to good use. My only real medical cridentials are what my dad has taught me. He was a paramedic before got a lucky break in tech (truth) and he figured it would be good for me to know some of what he learned, for emergencies. I'd call our...uh...situation quite an emergency by now." He looked around and asked, "Anyone else need some quick fixing?" Trevor just shook his head and went to stand beside Jakub, but Taylor nodded slowly and turned his head to the side, revealing a small part of his upper ear was missing. It wasn't bleeding much, as there are few blood vessels in the upper ear, but it certainly looke dlike it hurt and definately needed to be cleaned and field dressed. Tim delved into the kit and found a white gauze strip abput the right size for the wound. Then he removed the bottle of water on the other side of the pack and poured some on the injury. Alcohol of some sort would have been better, but he didn't have any and didn't dare ask any of the others if they did. He then dipped the gauze in the water and wrapped it around the top part of his ear, allowing it to stick. "Don't take that off and try to keep it clean, okay? That goes for you, too, Jakub." Taylor just gestured his thanks and Jakub briefly turned his head to look at Tim an acknowledged his statement with a respectful "no shit" sort of look. Tim again stared at the flintlock Jakub had given him, stood up and asked, "You sure you want me to have this for now? It's your pistol, and a nice one. I wouldn't trust some stranger with it if I were you."

"I'm not that good of a shot." Jakub replied, walking forward.
They were starting to get near the dark mammoth of a building, the dark stone of the walls, and the overwhelming silence only foreshadowed what they were going to see inside.
The massive iron doors were sealed shut.
They stood before the stairway leading to the door. The previously richly decorated stairs, were now deteriorated, it's statues shattered, proud stone figures turned into meaningless rubble.

Trevor unfolded his arms, & reached into his front pocket, handing a small packet to Tim. Inside it was a strange, yellow, golden liquid. He half-smirked when he said "It's mead. pour it on the green one's ear, or it WILL get infected." As Tim set back upon his field dressing, ( Sorry, I'm really trying to stop, honest.) Trevor finally took the time to inspect the guns he had taken. he undid the bag's tie, slowly drawing out the weapons & laying them down onto the bag, now forming a makeshift mat. He grabbed one of the clockwork rifles inspecting it. "Now, If memory serves..." He slid his hands along the stock, finding what he was searching for. He slid the compartment door back, & after tapping the gun lightly, a very small, black container fell out. Trevor picked it up, bringing it up to his nose, & took a smell. "Aha!" He declared triumphantly, "Gun oil!" He set it down, sliding the gun's trapdoor back into place. Now for the counting. Two clockwork rifles, 2 shotguns, it seemed that the scientist had dropped one of the Speed Shooters, leaving them with only one. Idiot. And one of the clockwork pistols was present. In the ammo pile he counted quite a bit of Speed Shooter ammo, some two or three loads of pistol ammo, along with his favourite buckshot, some fuse-lit grenados, & one knife. Not a bad haul, he wished there were more warriors to use these. Oh well, this motley crew would have to do. He slid more incendiary buckshot into his pouch, & rolled the guns back into the bag. He pocketed the gun-oil, then turned to the Inquisitor & asked, "Inquisitor, could you bear some ammo?"

Jakub turned around and walked up to Trevor, grabbing the bag and throwing it over his shoulder, before the viking could even point out if that was what he desired the Inquisitor to carry.
Eager to resume his investigation, the young Inquisitor walked up to the door, very slowly, cautiously. The iron plates of the door were sealed shut.
"We have a major problem." Said the Catholic, after a quick observation.
He ran his fingers over the space between the two door wings. The problem laid in the fact that there was no space in between.
The door was fused together, the ridges molten into one, turning the two door wings into an unmovable iron behemoth. It would not even budge.
"Yeah... this is not good. Not good at all..." said the Inquisitor.
It was not the problem of going in. It was the problem of what the hell happened out here.

Uh, are you talking about when I dropped the guns and ammo I was carrying upon reaching the rest of you guys? Because I picked that shit back up, I swear! But for the sake of moar guns and ammo...

Tim doubled back behind the three others, retrieving the guns and ammo he had forgotten about after Jakub gave him the medical supplies. He was glad Trevor had some sort of antibiotic to prevent infection, though Tim wasn't entirely sure of its infection fighting capabilities. He had to try to trust the rest of the peiple, at least somewhat. Trevor obviously looked down on him, though he wasn't sure why. Had he done something wrong, something stupid? Tim thought he had done pretty good in the last confrontation, and at least Jakub acknowledged it. Perhaps it was just Trevor's norse warrior spirit that prevented him from regarding outsiders as equals. Who knew, but he couldn't let it bother him. Again he caught up with the others, still caught up in reflection and thought. "What's the gun tally?" he asked Trevor, who had been methodically organizing the stockpile at the foot of the huge building's main stairwell, and then he carefully put the guns he had retrieved in their respective piles and handed the ammo to Trevor to sort.

Trevor walked over to the door , slipping his guns away from the Inquisitor, whilst saying, "No sir, these are my burden." He promptly plopped the box of ammo in the Inquisitor's arms, igoring the man's stoic nature. Trevor found the Inquisitor very... bland. Oh well. He knelt before the gate, inspecting it for awhile, knocking it once r twice to judge for thickness, then said, "I think if we tie the grenados together & stick them to it, it should give way. Or we could send two of us to climb up it & get it open from the inside. I'll take the tree lover in, if you'd prefer that."

"I'd prefer not to be insulted because of my beliefs. Whats with you and your giant weapons, Norse man. Lacking something? Go on, call me an idiot. I can still make a bomb from a water cooler." Taylor snapped. He had grown accustomed to the sneer's of his comrades because of his beliefs in Paganism, regardless, it still bothered him. The Viking bothered him, but he felt a lot safer with a real warrior with them. He knelt down and moved his hand across the ground, feeling the dirt and rubble.
"The door is made of Iron but the walls are made of rock. Give me enough gunpowder and I make us a more fitting door." He said this without looking at any of them. It would be more effective but the noise would attract a lot of attention.
"I don't leave this idea in your hands, I think we all know the consequence of an explosion of that caliber. You three decide quickly."

Trevor laughed heartily. "Easy now, it's petty banter. You're sensitive, for a survivvor." He turned to Jakub & began to dig through the ammo box. You'd think this would be easy, he thought, as I was just in this stupid thing. "ah, there we are.", He stated. He produced the grenados & the knife. Carefully, one by one, he popped them open, mindful not to spill any of the hazardous explosive. He held them before Taylor & said, "Is this enough?"

Taylor emptied out each of the containers on to two different strips of cloth. Weighing each in his hand.
"Perfect amount for a single explosion. The walls are thick, but not impregnable." He said. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to make a bomb out of this. Just in case"

Trevor shrugged indifferently. He'd always preferred a blade in combat. Explosives were too little a challenge. "Just make us a hole.", he replied. He glanced around them. He'd like to get out of this decayed center of false gods as soon as possible, he'd heard little Egypt was nice this time of year.

Jakub sat down on one of the pedestals, one of many remains of what was once the center of the city. He wordlessly watched the group as they argued about the method of blowing their way in.
Suddenly, he spoke.
"It's not about whether we can or can't go in there. Using explosives would be wasteful, as there are other ways to go in. I am just wondering why did someone fuse the door together. And how. We don't know what is inside. I don't even see the remains of any guards. And a guard force from all the sectors was sent here. We don't know what happened here."