05-27-2015, 03:54 PM
Morning. The light shining in through the windows inspired Neal. It meant he had survived till dawn. Though there was nothing to suggest it, he suspected there were already a few competitors eliminated before sunrise, victims of unfortunate circumstances and coincidental meetups. He should know, his first move had him fighting a Wartortle. Getting shot at, more like it.
Neal could care less about the losers, getting cozy in the outside world where they were no longer expected to kill or be killed. For them, the worst part was over. As for the other competitors, Neal included, things would only go downhill from here. He was blind to the other competitors' locations, which meant any move he made could very well be his last.
His preparation for such an encounter was intuitive, but it did not inspire the greatest of confidence. Upon his left arm he tied the Uno Shield, cards glued on top of cardboard, on top of a gridiron from some now incomplete stove. In his right hand, he held a hefty, squared club with more of those black, red and gold Uno cards glued to its smashing end. It felt clumbsy, despite being lighter than the heavier swords he was used to. Heavy ended with a tapered handle, he only hoped it would hold when he bashed someone's head in with it.
Sadly, Neal's pre-morning search of the diner had turned out less than satisfactory. The diner was pretty much useless in a fight. Too many windows to board up and no lock on the kitchen door - which swung both ways, making it impossible to barricade. The last option was not entirely desirable, considering it meant locking himself in what was the only defensible room in this joint: the bathroom.
If I'm going to play smart, I need a better bunker, Neal reminded himself once again as he stared down at the map. "The Clinic is probably the closest... or the town... The town's probably crawling with people. But the resources..." He focused on the cluster of buildings, as if trying to figure out whether this was worth it. "Then again, medical supplies could draw in a crowd..."
That settled it. "Town." His wounds were not that serious, but others with better weapons and a more aggressive play-style might look to the clinic first. Neal rolled up his map and stuffed it back in his dingy duffle bag. He had yet to eat, but he brought out his bottle of water and uncapped it for a quick swig.
He tosses his bag over his shoulder, grabs up his shield and club, and heads out the back door, compass in hand. On the way northwards, he would swing by and pick up his beloved coat and hat. Of course he had to take a moment to put them both on, mainly to keep his hair out of his face. Perhaps he enjoyed the cool-factor it gave as well.
Neal could care less about the losers, getting cozy in the outside world where they were no longer expected to kill or be killed. For them, the worst part was over. As for the other competitors, Neal included, things would only go downhill from here. He was blind to the other competitors' locations, which meant any move he made could very well be his last.
His preparation for such an encounter was intuitive, but it did not inspire the greatest of confidence. Upon his left arm he tied the Uno Shield, cards glued on top of cardboard, on top of a gridiron from some now incomplete stove. In his right hand, he held a hefty, squared club with more of those black, red and gold Uno cards glued to its smashing end. It felt clumbsy, despite being lighter than the heavier swords he was used to. Heavy ended with a tapered handle, he only hoped it would hold when he bashed someone's head in with it.
Sadly, Neal's pre-morning search of the diner had turned out less than satisfactory. The diner was pretty much useless in a fight. Too many windows to board up and no lock on the kitchen door - which swung both ways, making it impossible to barricade. The last option was not entirely desirable, considering it meant locking himself in what was the only defensible room in this joint: the bathroom.
If I'm going to play smart, I need a better bunker, Neal reminded himself once again as he stared down at the map. "The Clinic is probably the closest... or the town... The town's probably crawling with people. But the resources..." He focused on the cluster of buildings, as if trying to figure out whether this was worth it. "Then again, medical supplies could draw in a crowd..."
That settled it. "Town." His wounds were not that serious, but others with better weapons and a more aggressive play-style might look to the clinic first. Neal rolled up his map and stuffed it back in his dingy duffle bag. He had yet to eat, but he brought out his bottle of water and uncapped it for a quick swig.
He tosses his bag over his shoulder, grabs up his shield and club, and heads out the back door, compass in hand. On the way northwards, he would swing by and pick up his beloved coat and hat. Of course he had to take a moment to put them both on, mainly to keep his hair out of his face. Perhaps he enjoyed the cool-factor it gave as well.