Post by Julian Bael on Jan 7, 2012 19:00:43 GMT -6
Julian reached the bottom of the stairs. His nostrils overflowed with the stench of death and unwashed animal. The walls were streaked with moist crimson streaks, the carpets splotched with it as well. A hand laid on the edge of a door opening, unmoving. Julian quickly raised his magnum head-high, quickly shifting his hand to Zachary in a 'stop' motion. It was as he feared; infected.
It was unlikely any of the cultists lived. Not a single sound uttered, and he knew how clear they made their fear of something on a regular basis. Even for no names, they were still recognizable faces. Julian, though in a combat stance, was weighed down by a sense of sorrow he rarely felt; he did his best to keep those men alive, hoping they'd regain their humanity were Clementine's paradise realized. Now they're dead, in mental purgatory for being unlucky enough to cross the Sanctum's path. He wanted to sit down, to let the creature take him... but something in him kept him up, aware. Like he was an unthinking droid with a program to either kill or be killed. And there was still Taste; he had to live, or the cultists' deaths would be in vain.
He moved down, waving Zachary to follow, hoping his stubborn pride wouldn't keep him from listening to basic military orders. He needed him, for not even his abilities could keep him from surviving an infected attack... but perhaps not even two of similar strengths. He slowly stepped closer to the bloodied hand, looking into the room it laid in; it was severed from the body, the other bodies in an unusually neat pile in the corner. Julian's gag reflex shot up, but he resisted it and looked away. No infected. Now it was just a waiting game.
It was unlikely any of the cultists lived. Not a single sound uttered, and he knew how clear they made their fear of something on a regular basis. Even for no names, they were still recognizable faces. Julian, though in a combat stance, was weighed down by a sense of sorrow he rarely felt; he did his best to keep those men alive, hoping they'd regain their humanity were Clementine's paradise realized. Now they're dead, in mental purgatory for being unlucky enough to cross the Sanctum's path. He wanted to sit down, to let the creature take him... but something in him kept him up, aware. Like he was an unthinking droid with a program to either kill or be killed. And there was still Taste; he had to live, or the cultists' deaths would be in vain.
He moved down, waving Zachary to follow, hoping his stubborn pride wouldn't keep him from listening to basic military orders. He needed him, for not even his abilities could keep him from surviving an infected attack... but perhaps not even two of similar strengths. He slowly stepped closer to the bloodied hand, looking into the room it laid in; it was severed from the body, the other bodies in an unusually neat pile in the corner. Julian's gag reflex shot up, but he resisted it and looked away. No infected. Now it was just a waiting game.