"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Greg The Anti-Viking
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On the left is a mod, on the right is a pre-made psycho...get the picture?
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Nathan was chilled by the scream that rang out in the empty forest. The sheer mirth of that yell was so out of place and yet it was here. It wasn't Brook's voice either. It belonged to someone else.

"Nath"

It took effort for him to not blow their cover when Jason spoke. He had moved silently and swiftly through the forest and had even caught Nathan off guard. His eyes followed the guidance of Jason's hand and towards his backpack. The gun. The gun he had almost killed Jason with, the gun he had almost died by.

"Whatever it takes."

Nathan gulped and said nothing. Jason's eyes bore through him, the graveness of the request clearly evident in the stare. They were coming up against a monster. That monster was their friend.

Jason was tasking the two of them to slay that monster if they couldn't tame it...

Nathan found himself nodding, "Alright."

He fished the pistol from his back pack and used the tree to guid himself up to a standing position. His body felt stiff with tension, as if he was preparing for another race. Normally, that would mean it was time to stretch, to prepare, to get in the zone. There was no time for that.

He wanted to look away from the carnage that was displayed before him, but it was impossible for him to do so. It was sheer chaos, bodies strewn about like ragdolls haphazzardly tossed across a playpen. Blood was scattered across the green grass and onto the wood of the surrounding trees in the grove.

Brook's voice made Nathan pause. The voice was his, yet the language was childlike to him. It sounded as if he was a mere alien, there was a human aspect to his voice, but it was slightly off kilter. Out of place.

Jason kept moving forwards gentley easing Brook into conversation. It was then that Brook appeared into Nathan's vision and he couldn't help but let his jaw go slack. Brook looked liked something that belonged inside a slasher film. Blood coated his face and stained his clothing little droplets had run down to the tips of his fingers before gently plumetting to the earth below. His hair was mussed up in a disorganized shamble, looking as tangled as some of the plants that his friend took care of back home.

"Brook mate. It's over. We've come to take you home."


Nathan couldn't help but flinch back a half step. Looking at the situation right now, this didn't look like a successful attempt in the making. He couldn't help but feel like they were making a huge mistake.
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B054:Oscar Trig-Smoker, Artist, Film Buff

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Stand up eight...
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Bloodgarden · The Woods: Coastal