Two Jocks were in the middle of a patrol in one of the darker areas of the school building. It had grown dark, and their walkie talkies, stolen from some of the staff/teachers, namely the gym teachers. Since they obtained these things, they strategically used them as a secure, private line, as opposed to the strange shortwave system in their cell phones, so their information wouldn't be obtained so easily. It was also restricted to the use of these long distance patrols, which scouted areas farther than the gym, where they had their own, little town type deal, consisting of Jock warriors, and the main citizens consisting of the populars, who handled trade, politics, that sort of thing, with a few really smart kids here and there. 'Phycopolis,' it was called, most of their structures being exercise equipment mostly with some couches and such comfortable chairs from areas such as the offices, from some their first conquests.

Anyways, the two began to set up camp for the night in a small utility closet. The door was left open because the second goon was busy 're-decorating' so they could properly use it for the night, while the other sat on a chair that was sitting inside the closet, and keeping an eye out for 'enemies.' The Jock on guard duty was drifting into sleep. Things outside were getting darker, and the Jocks outside of base couldn't tell time well, most clocks in the hallways being stolen for personal use, or just plain out broken from battles, presumably.

-

There was a small classroom just across, seemingly empty. Kenneth McFly, or simply 'Ken' to his friends was in this very room, against the wall next to the classroom door that was open. He'd just walked on into the room, checking for any potential attackers, and supplies, and other reasons why he may not want to sleep there that night, before he realized he forgot to lock the door, and cover the little window thing in the door, now hiding against the wall, and trying to figure out how to get these guys away, or something. He reached into his bag, and stared at the lone soda, his only possible drink for the night, and sighed, beginning to shake the can. This sound alerted the Jock on guard, and made him walk into the other room, wielding a Lacrosse stick, and standing just a little over Ken's own height, but with more fat on his bones. When the Jock got close enough, Ken kicked him in the shins with his own right leg's shin, which thankfully, had no soccer shin guards. He moved up to inspect the armor, and realized all this kid had on him was the body gear, as he raised his leg up, and dropped it onto the fellow without a helmet, knocking him out, as he moved the fellow over where he once hid.

This was followed by the second Jock, a much larger, and bigger bodied young man with ginger colored hair, and a smug grin on his face finishing up some stuff. This one, unlike the other one which seemed more fitting as a scout, could be considered a 'tank.' Ken would have to be extra careful about this guy. So, he knocked on the guy's back where his football pads were, and with the fellow turning around, had shown he had a plastic visor, to which Ken mentally groaned: this knocked down the effectiveness of the soda a bit. But it was his only means of defense, and he proceeded to open the can, and fire a beam of root beer into the plastic visor, some of it splashing the guy in the mouth, as he automatically started wiping away the liquid, while throwing out kicks, and dropping his baseball bat. This allowed our teenage hero to move out of the way in a burst of speed, and performing a jumping spinning back kick, into where else, but the guy's back, sending him into the classroom door, now dizzy, but protected mostly by his gear, as he wandered over to grab the walkie talkie, when he felt another foot going into his back: McFly had ran down the hallway a bit, and came running back for a flying kick, making the giant fall…

Ken hurried over to slip the helmet off, and was about to hit the floor performing an elbow drop…

-

Ken eventually dragged both Jocks into the janitors' closet, taking whatever supplies he could, and starting to leg it out of there….

Oan and a team of 12 LARP'ers move in quietly towards the Science Hallway, determined to secure the area and create their headquarters there, seeing as it has gas, heat, and medical kits in case of injury. While the rest of them were hiding in various Nerd-areas across the school, the Grand Master picked them to follow in this mission. The team of 12 are armed with LARP weapons ranging from small blades to folding quarter-staffs. They reach the first room of the 10 rooms, and open the door quickly and swarming in, knocking 2 Jocks unconscious with hard blows to the head. Locking them in one of the maintenance closets down the hall, they leave one of their men in the room to defend while the others move forward.

Elisa was always on her guard, even though she was with the Jocks. For some reason it was almost as scary to be with them than against them. One of them would almost always be looking at her and she had finally learned what the word "self-concious" was. They had let her keep all of her stuff for some reason, maybe because she would be using it anyways, and she was able to look clean pretty much every day. With all of the stuff she had packed for her weekend sleepover, she actually had enough stuff for a few weeks here, since she packs more than she needs all the time. Where was Rosetta anyways?

Sub-conciously she checked her phone again. No signal, it was school what else did she expect to happen? That signal would magically appear in the locker room? She used to be able to text in class but the snow that was still piling up right outside got rid of what little blissful signal they had in this school. To top it off it was halfway dead. She locked it again and put it back into her backpack just as a jock walked by. A few times she had to give them her phone and they would play games on it. I guess they had accepted the reality that phones were useless before she had. She had to let them because, well, that was the deal. She stays if she listens.

The jock looked at her but she pretended not to notice. But after he stopped right in front of her she looked up at him and smiled. He didn't return it but instead said,
"Two of the other jocks didn't show up. We figured you might want to come along, get out of the locker room."
He ran his hand through his hair that wasn't even their since it was a buzzcut then put his hand back to his side, she couldn't help but notice that the so called "Muscle that this boy had was nothing more than fat that he had worked out enough with that it didn't flop around as muh. Still disgusting, but better. Plus, if she went with them, she could get out of this room that for some reason still smelt of sweaty gym socks. Probably because they worked out EVERY single day.

"Sure," She said. "I'll be out in just a second," The second he left she got her perfume out of her bag. Sweet and Playful it said. She didn't care for sweet or playful right now, she just cared for "Smeeling better than dirty gym socks". Believe it or not she still liked some of the cute jocks. It was hard not to when you see their ripped abs while they work out and look at their seemingly glistening body once they finish. It was impossible to resist. Plus, the whole bad boy thing looked good on them, she didn't mind seeing them playing hardcore for their stuff. If only some could have it, you know who you would choose, yourself. Why else would she, Elisa, joined up with the jocks? Because if she didn't she wouldn't stand a chance. They have pretty much all the food, they have comfort, and for her personal needs, they have cute guys. She sprayed one or two times then ran out to join the scout party.

The breath was knocked out of Matt as a fist drove into his stomach.
"Wheres your stuff at bro?", said the "Hyena" in front of him, a name given to the wanderers with even less moral values than the rest of them.
Matthew drew in a deep breath as the pressure in his gut subsided, making him feel like he was suffocating, but he didn't say anything. Another Hyena was behind him, pinning Matts back against the Hyena's front with a baseball bat to his neck, letting the other one have at Matthew like a punching bag, shaking him down for supplies.
The Hyena hit him again, Matt managed to tighten his abs this time, reducing the effect, but knocking the wind out of him nonetheless. By now the Hyena's were growing frustrated, the one in front of him drove at punch at him again, but Matt, using the man behind him as leverage, brought both legs up and mule kicked the guy in the gut, knocking him on his back and leaving him gasping for air. Then before the one behind him could react, Matt hooked his hands under the top and bottom end of the bat, twisting and lifting the weapon at the same time. As the lifted the bat off of his neck, he spun as he twisted, coming up in front of the Hyena, and catching him in a bad spot. The torque of the twisting weapon caused a painful sounding pop in his attackers wrist, making him yelp in pain an unintentionally let go of the bat. Matt took the initiative, and rammed the base of the wood bat into his nose, breaking it, and then slamming the "sweet-spot" of the bat into his temple with just enough force to knock him out, but not brain him.
The other one was beginning to get up by now, Matt looked down at him and scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment before kicking him in the face, knocking him out as well, and with that, he left the hallway and jogged back to his hide-out, avoiding the Jock and LARPer patrols along the way.
Matt opened a wooden door in an adjacent hallway labeled "Spotlighting", and once inside, he shut and locked the knob, then turned and began climbing a metal ladder. Twenty feet up, he found the ledge and hoisted himself up, then began walking down a short hallway. on his left there was a door labeled "Costume closet", where the theatre-class stored there costumes, and at the end of the hall, was "Auditorium lighting", where theatre-tech used the spotlights and stage-lighting controls, and it was also where Matt had made his home. He opened the door and moved inside, switching one of the spotlights on that he had angled into the room for make-shift lighting, revealing the room quite nicely. He had a few backpacks filled with junk-food from vending machines as well as two twelve packs of bottled water he had snatched from the cafeteria. He turned and pressed his ear against the door, making sure know one was following him up the noisy ladder, then he moved over to this supply stash, grabbed a bottle of water, then stretched out on the Gym-mat he was using as a bed-of-sorts, wincing as he stretched out his sore stomach. He took a few gulps from the water, then screwed the lid back on, sitting next to him as he pulled over one of the jackets he found in the costume room, using it as a blanket.
Slowly, Matthew descended into sleep.
I'll try my luck at scavenging again tomorrow, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes.

Elisa had emptied out her backpack and put the stuff in the locker room, although she snuck in there to do so even though she knew fully well she was fine going in. She just felt like that place was meant for her to stay out of unless of course she was told to go in. When she ran out and met up with the group she had an empty storage bag to gather supplies with. She had thought about just using a duffle bag or something but thought she might not be able to carry the duffle bag and anything she found. Her backpack fit about all she could carry.

They seemed impatient when she came out and one of them let out a sigh as she came into site. She would probably be a problem for them, being slower and weaker. That wasn't a good thing. Slinging her bag over her shoulder she said, "Um, I think it might be smarter if I went to scavenge by myself. I think I would just slow you guys down and nobody knows I'm with you guys so-" One of the jocks held up his hand in annoyance. "We don't need to hear your full explanation. If you think that it is the smartest thing then we trust you." He threw something to her and she barely managed to catch it, but it was a walkie talkie. "We'll contact you if we need you or when it's time to come back. If you don't come within ten minutes or update us if it takes longer then, well then your dinner will be cancelled,"

That was always her punishment. No food, no water, something along those lines. It was really no fun. Nodding she ran off and out of the gym, out into the hallway that it seemed forever since she had been in. The first thing she did was put the walkie talkie in her backpack that way nobody could see it. then she started looking. Where would nobody have looked yet? The cafeteria couldn't be fully cleaned out, but that was undoubtedly where the Jocks were going.Where else would there be food? Home economics! She ran down the hall and took a couple of turns until she was in front of the class. She hadn't checked if anybody had seen her so for all she knew their could be people following her right now. But ignoring the though seh ran inside th room and towards the back where the kitchen was. Throwing open cabinets she saw a few were empty, but after looking a little more she found the ingredients. Barely any ingredients were taken probably because nobody figured that they would have time to cook, because of the Jocks. But if they helped out...

She started taking all of the ingredients she could find from the cabinets. When she went into the refigerator she was delighted to seee what she found. There were eggs! She could make eggs, and everyone would probably be stoked. They were crazy about protien after all. To top it off there was probably five packages of them. Sixtey eggs...that was enough for the jocks to have all they wanted and for her to have some too. She thought about using her walkie talkie but still didn't know if anybody was following her, so she looked around the class for her own self defence tool instead.

Ken had all the supplies he needed for the night when he decided to set up camp in one of the business classes. He searched through the numbers, trying to find one of the many rooms for the subject, when he saw that the home economics class door was open. Sighing to himself, he tightened his black sling backpack, securing the single strap, as he slipped a hand in, and hit the light switch. The light outside of the classroom was pretty dim, just enough for him to sneak in unseen if he was quick, and quiet enough, hiding behind a table with an old computer and a bowl with a stick, and wasted dough. He peeked his head out to spot the stupidest girl just digging into the eggs like some kind of fool. Then, he heard a light creak, and saw the other side of the room had another door! and it appeared there wasn't anyone there.

Well, that is until Ken spotted a Hyena. This one had tanned skin, was rather tall, but skinny, and blended in twice as good as McFly did, and Ken could spot the guy nodding, and mouthing 'Oh Yeah' just for the heck of it, not noticing the other fellow sneaking around, as he went in to try and go after that girl.

-

Ken debated whether or not to help Elisa or not…By the time he made his decision, the other guy was already getting near the girl. Sighing, Ken put his back under the table, and climbed out from under, hopping the desk and dropkicking the guy in the head, the two bodies hitting the floor rather loudly, Ken climbing onto his feet and lunging at the guy, and repeatedly karate chopping him in the neck. The guy was kicking and using his knees to try and escape, but with a raise, and drop, of his left arm, the young man punched the thug in the face, stopping the guy in his tracks, and Ken allowed himself to fall over onto his back, before rolling over to create distance between himself and Elisa.

"What the hell are you DOING?!" whispered Ken, pulling the guy over and throwing him out into the hallway, while locking both doors, then walking back over. "You walked into this room like a walking target! a sitting duck! and you're trying to carry like, FIVE packs of them?! they'd probably all break before you got back to wherever your camp was for the night!"

Ken pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. "Wait, wait, look: do you even have a place to stay at all? This room isn't gonna be safe, and I was planning to sleep out the night in a business classroom…You'd be considered a rich caravan with all those eggs on you, perfect to be attacked. It'll be safer once we're rested, my cell phone gets recharged, and I can check the time. I can take you back wherever you came from during the morning when most people are asleep. Last time I checked, I think it was at least 5:30, and I think it's about…7:00PM or something, feels that long…"

He looked over, stopping a moment to listen for any strange sounds.

"Well?"

Jonah was out in the open for that week. His Bible in his bag and his lacrosse stick in hand. Most people that saw him assume he was with the Jocks. He had even fooled some Jocks that he was a Jock! His shiv was stuck into his belt loop and was easily accessible, if needed. He hadn't left the library in a pretty long time. Last time he had found enough food to last him a little longer then a week. However, as always, he had run out. His mini-fort that he had made in the library was undefended, for the time being, but if anyone tried getting in the most obvious way they'd get a bookcase on their head.

Jonah had decided that the Home Ec. room would probably be the best place to go. He had spent a lot of time in their before his parents were killed. He loved making things, and he knew that the teacher Mrs. Moss almost always kept a good supply of food. Also it was only a short walk from the library. When he came to the room he found that the door was locked but there were voices coming from the inside. He went around to the other door and was shocked to see a kid knocked unconscious on the floor. He looked pretty beaten up to... So Jonah did what any of the kids would do, he started checking his person for goodies. In one pocket of his hoodie he found a cell phone, always useful for trade, and in the other what appeared to be a firecracker. Whatever it was, it was no good to Jonah. In his jeans he found a wallet, that might be good for trading with the LARPs, and a lighter. Finally, the gold mine out of all of this, he found a Jock radio. That meant he'd proabably be the only guy that would have one besides the Jocks! This was big stuff! Taking his booty Jonah went to the Home Ec. door, only to find that one locked as well. That's when the radio started blaring. Jonah quickly turned it off and looked at the frequency.

At this point Jonah curiosity was really peaked. After all doors can only be locked from the inside! So Jonah did a semi-reasonable, or so he thought, thing. He started banging on the door and saying "Jock patrol! Open these doors immediately or we'll break it down!"

Elisa held her hand to her mouth as she saw two of the jocks fall to the floor. The boy behind them thought he was protecting her? Idiot! Now she was in trouble for sure! He thought she was the idiot, she could walk around because she was protected, so of course the first thing that came out of her mouth was her first worry.
"I am so going to get in trouble for this..."
That was when both of the Jocks radios went off. She freaked out when she realized they were all on the same channel and hers went off from in her backpack. Looking at the boy she said, "I'm fine I really am, and I don't need your help." Meanwhile the walkie talkie in her bag was going off like crazy. "Where are you guys? I told you to go get her!" She jumbled in her bag until she found it and turned the sound off, knowing the boy had already heard it though so there was really no point in hiding it. Maybe he would think she was smart and got it to find out what they were doing, or something like that.

She grabbed the eggs and put them in her bag. The gym was pretty close.
"Um...I'm fine, really. I have a place...and some stuff. I don't think they'll raid me." After all more than half of these were for them. Shuffling over to the door she opened it back up and started to walk out. If he didn't get suspicious she could leave without a problem. If he asked...what if he forced her to come with him? After all, the Jocks enjoyed having her around. They would probably give some of their luxury items for her. She had made sure they would want her around so tey didn't just dump her back out into the hallways.

The LARP'ers finally finish clearing out the Science Hallway, and managed to close the doors to the outside and closed the doors connecting this wing to the rest of the building. Bringing out their 3 Jock captives, Oan grabs one of the radios that some of the Jocks had on them, looks it over, than turns it on. "Listen up Jocks, this is Ghost, Grand Master of the LARP'ers. I will be brief on this, seeing as you apes are too stupid to understand most things. We have 3 of your men prisoner, and are willing to ransom them for food and supplies. You have 2 hours to comply via radio to our demands. If you do not agree within that time limit, well.... Let's just say that your buddies will wind up with a bad case of Frostbite." He grins evilly, before stopping the transmission. "Maybe this'll teach them not to push us around." He says to his fellow men as the rest of the LARP'ers begin turning the Science wing into their new homes.

Clap.


Clap.


A dark figure descended the dim, hollow stairways of the Science Tower, accompanied by the mysterious dimming of lights with each step the figure took.
A Man ....nay, a highschooler, taller than Oan, in jet black robes of finest polyester laced red thread that formed intricate patterns throughout the costume. Skin, pale as white. Hair, black as night. His hands clasped together for a final.

CLAP.

"Well ...well..." Voice cold as the air that preserved lowest levels of the Tower, echoed throughout it.

"Visitors ..." He said contemptuosly.

"And they brought gifts. Oan the Ghost," Only one faction LARPers in this school refered to a GM that way, and they were the LARPwrights, adept storytellers who had perfected their craft and wrote the scripts of legend singlehandedly, they were known for being aloof and proud but for good reason -for someone had to write out a LARP and no one was better at that than a LARPwright.







And no LARPwright was better than this one, who stood before them in the most realistic outfit of an *Wu-Jen. Complete with katana and tassled talismans.


He flicked a gaze at the addled jocks. "That's all you're going to do? ...Demand for food?" Then turned back to look at Oan and his crew, quirking an eyebrow. The two subfactions never saw eye to eye exactly, to the LARPwrights, the GMs were too involved in their games to see the meaning behind each LARP. And to the GMs, the LARPwrights had their heads too high in the clouds too see anything beyond their books and scripts.

"And what if they launch a coordinated attack on us while deciding..." He warned before shaking his head and sauntering over to the other two jocks, lifting their walkie-talkies out of their holders. Trusting the others to hold them down. LARPers may not agree with each other all the time, but they will not fight one another outside a duel. That much, he had confidence in.

"Now ....a little control of the situation." He flipped the devices so that each reciever faced the speaker of the other device's and tied them together with a shoelace he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. And when he activated both on at the same time, an ear-piercing screech filled the walkie-talkies' channels as audio output fed into input in a never-ending, ever-growing cycle.


SSSSssssrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEECCCCHHHHH!!!

He turned down the volume.

"Now, WE are in control of their communication. They can gather and try to re-coordinate their devices, waste their time, and we'll simply tune in to theirs right after. Eitherway, they won't be able to speak to each other over this ....noise-I mean, interference." He smiled gently as the jocks' channels were screwed with.


"Isn't it time we attacked them back?"



**An Wu Jen is an Eastern Sorcerer in the world of Dungeons and Dragons.

Oan hand signals the other LARP'ers, and they bow than quickly exit, taking their prisoners with them as they leave the two alone. "Yes, it seems we need to go on the offensive. I have recieved inteligence that says we have fellow brothers locked inside the History wing, their defenses constantly battered by Jocks. I fear they may fall if we dont assist quickly." He thinks for a moment "However, a frontal attack is suicide. The only way to get in is through the vents, or make a distraction..." He looks at Elmister with a smile. "and last time I checked, your the best Mage we got. Can I count on you to do that?" He asks, knowing full well the answer to that question.

When he heard Jock patrol she ran to the door and flung it open.
"Thank go-" She stopped talking when she noticed in was in fact NOT a jock, but her old friend Jonah. To clarify they WERE friends but when she entered highschool that ended rather quickly. Taking a step back she said, "Jonah," Then she cleared her throat and said, "Well you're not a jock." She suddenly wanted to leave rather quickly. Looking for a way past him she saw none so she just said, "I was um...just leaving." How is it that everything that could go wrong had and she had just started searching. Her luck was usually great. That was, before they were traped. From there her luck went in a downward spiral and she guessed that it was completely gone now. He wasn't a LARPer was he? If he was that wouldn't be good. Looking for an alternative way out she saw none she could go to and the other boy was behind her which she had almost forgot about She look back at him and smiled shyly.

When the door was suddenly thrown open Jonah took a step in to block escape and to maximize his effectiveness in battle. He found that if he acted in competent with his lacrosse stick and then "lost it" in the midst of battle the opponent normally decided grappling was the best option. So then Jonah would bring his shiv out and a good two or three stabs to the leg got them off of him. However when the door was thrown open and ELISA was exposed...... Well it threw him for a loop! He used to have a minor crush on her before High School and he used to make himself think that the feeling was mutual. She wasn't looking well. Under fed most likely, everyone was underfed here. "Uh.... Hey El..... What... What are you doing here?" he managed to say through his confusion.

When Jonah finally managed to bring himself together he realize where he was and what he had done. A LOT of noise in this part of the school was NOT safe. He looked around and then quickly pushed El, gently, back into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. As he did so he noticed another boy inside the room. Jonah didn't recognize him but that wasn't surprising, he hadn't known that many people in High School. It was at this point he remembered who El was. She was a prep. She was a Jock! He looked down at her and his eyes bugged out "You're...... You're one of them!" he said pointing to the kid back in the hall "That's what the guy on the radio was shouting about! But..... Why? If....." He then looked back up at the boy. The dots finally connected for him and he understood. "Oh." he said simply. Jonah made a quick decision then and there. You may think that this was his specialty but normally he thought about his decisions for a really long time before finally deciding. But this time he knew what the right thing to do was instantly.

He was going to invite El and this new boy, if he liked him, into his library fortress. They'd be the first, and likely only, people he invited in. El looked underfed and downright scarred at the thought of returning to the Jocks now. If Jonah provided them a home they could easily provide enough food for all of them and could defend themselves ten times better in a pack. However approaching them would be the difficult part......

" ...and last time I checked, your the best Mage we got."


"Pity." The one Oan refered to as Elminster quirked another eyebrow at him.

"Your honeyed tongue could charm some life back into the dead, Ghost, if you had bothered to learn how." He commented non-chalantly at Oan, sometimes the things he said made little sense, if none at all. But the way he says it, as if such things were possible, makes one wonder.


"Hmm ..." He seemed to wallow in his thoughts for abit, cross-armed and rubbing the bottom of his chin, no doubt contemplating more than anyone else would imagine.


" ...Then I'll need two of your brightest people. They will be my assistants." Drawing the attention of the jock horde was easy enough for someone like him, it was holding them down long enough for the other LARPers to get into the History Wing undetected, that needed a little more muscle.


"And one of the prisoners."

–------

Elminster entered the hall where they had put the captured jocks. Bound with twine to the railings and gagged, each of them stared with murderous intent at the LARPers that held them hostage. But not for long, as the one they called Elminster approached the trio.


"Which one of you is the healthiest?"

Sure, they couldn't answer as they had socks stuffed into their mouths, so he watched which one struggled most.

"Ahh, you then." He had found his choice.k


He reached over and covered one of the jock's face with his gloved hand, seemingly concentrating as the stench of a foul smoke wafted through the air. The boy struggled in panic, terrified at what he was experiencing but only for a few seconds -before his eyelids fell heavily, unconcious but still breathing. The LARPwright immediately grabbed hold of the jock's collar and began dragging him away from the group, towards the spiral staircase that led up to the Laboratories where he once hid himself for three days after all this madness had began.

It had become his lair of sorts, no one else has entered the place since.


"I'll meet you at the History Wing in thirty minutes," He paused and turned looking sideways, glancing behind only ever so slightly. " ...the water cooler just before the barricades the jocks built." Before returning to drag the boy slowly to what horrors that befell him.

Tyrone could conclude that this was by far the stupidest thing he had done this whole snowmageddon. Walking around the school, unarmed, going pretty much class room to class room, begging for food. But, as the saying goes, desperate times call for desperate measures. It had been two days since he really had anything of sustenance. Chewing gum and Tic Tacs that he busted a vending machine open for was the extent of his diet as of right now, but Tyrone knew that what supply he had left wouldn't last him through the night. At least he had fresh breath.

Earlier, he was almost keeled over from the pains in his stomach, but after he smoked one of his blunts, the pains became bearable. Only now, he was even hungrier than before, and he knew he couldn't eat the rest of his Tic Tacs so the only thing to do was to go searching for food. It was dangerous, but he could tell he was loosing weight and that wasn't something he needed. At least, he could talk his way out being jumped by the Jocks. All he'd have to say was, "Yo, man. What you be doin'? I'm on the basketball team, dawg. What you playin' me for? One of those costume weirdos? Get out of here. I don't got nothin'." And maybe, if he were feeling generous, he'd throw them "his last blunt." It was good having connections in high places. But, join them? He'd have to be trippin' to be able to stand those muscle-headed ass holes. Even if they did have a large stock pile of food...

Whatever, he'll figure something out. He walked up to the door and listened to hear if there was any noise coming from the room. Looking down, he saw an unconscious body laying on the ground. He shook his head, "stupid ass." He'd give it a couple more minutes before he knocked to make sure they weren't hyenas or something. Now, hyenas were a whole different story from the jocks...

Oan nods, as he sends Paladin MkVenner and Templar Abraham to assist the Mage in his duties as the rest of the LARP'ers prepare for war. Equipped with assorted weapons of various shapes and sizes, the 30-strong team gets into battle costume, steely gazed and cold blooded as they prepare for battle. Oan gets into his costume as well, an Imperial Inquisitor Lord from Warhammer 40,000. "Men, today we fight! Today, we beat those who have been unstoppable to us in the past! Today, we shall win and free our brothers!" He raises his power fist into the air, as his brethren cheer and shout. "Forward, for the Emperor!" He yells as the men begin running down the hallway in tight formation, weapons raised and the battle flag of the LARP'ers flying high above their heads.

Oan's Costume:


Power Fist:


His 'Bolt Pistol' (Aka Paintball rifle modded):


The LARP flag:

Ken nodded 'no' towards Jonah, already getting the idea the other guy was friendly, but could tell quite easily he might have made an offer to go back with him. The wanderer didn't trust either of them, nor did he want to have anything to do with them at the moment with all the commotion, as he kicked over the chair he originally used to restrain the door on the other side, and started legging it, and dashing into a business class, and slamming the door. Sure, there'd be a sound, but then again, most doors were kept shut, just the way McFly loved it. This time, there was a small wooden table he could barricade the room with, as he pushed it into the door, blocking out the little window on the door, and reinforcing the barricade with a couple of boxes and such he found in the room, before walking over to the main table, bolted into the ground, where he'd lay down his 'dinner' for the night.

This dinner consisted of a Salisbury Steak TV dinner with some Macaroni and Mashed potatoes, Instant Noodles, and some cheese puffs he'd found. Following that was a thermos of boiling water (thankfully, the noodles came in a cup). Ken started to think about how he'd cook the TV Dinner, when he spotted a microwave from home economics on one of the tables he didn't touch.

He looked at the food as he opened up the cardboard box of the dinner, and a bit of the lid of the cup noodles, staring at them blankly, and sighing again at the contents, whose amount was little, unless combined, eyeing the Macaroni and mashed potatoes on the side, and the meagerly sized steak. The noodles themselves would probably serve to him the most amount of food.

He reached into his bag once more, and pulled out a small pillow he'd gotten during a trade off of a killer knitting expert, followed by a simple sheet to use as a blanket, and began to 'set up shop' there, yawning, and hoping tomorrow would bring a new day. When setting up was done, he headed for his food, and began to set it near his 'bed,' digging in, and keeping quiet. When it was all done, he tossed his trash aside, kept his utensils, and pulled a flashlight, and began to read a comic book he found while scavenging, before slowly drifting into sleep...

"So much for a distraction ..."

Below the "Sanctum" of his Laboratory, the LARPer called Elminster shook his head in disdain as the echoes of their warband rang loud through the halls. Sure they had the equipment, armor of cardboard, maybe foam. Tons of it too. But in his time snowed in in this madhouse of a school, he had seen the protection the jocks wear: ACTUAL ARMOR meant for withstanding the brunt of charging morons on the football field. Shoulderpads of thick plastic that even kitchen knives couldn't penetrate.

He had only managed to fight them off because they weren't used to fighting against stinking clouds, fire balls and the likes. But even so, spells like these were time-consuming to prepare and in time, they might just adapt some form of resistance to it -it was unfortunate that they had survivors. He smelled his gloves,

"I'll need to find more salt petre soon." A mental note to himself, as his mind played the odds of a successful mission.

The LARPers, including himself, saw this as a new adventure and had been extremely resourceful so far given the situation they were in. In fact, they had become one of the larger antagonists who took the fight to the jocks. Heaven knows many of them were prepared for the day the world would end and this was pretty darn much close to it. They had the upperhand when it came to weaponary, in a pursuit to make their costumes as realistic as possible, many knew the technicalities to making the real thing. This disaster, nay -Rebirth of the World, was exactly what they needed to put that knowledge to good use. There were some who even took sharpened table biits and cutlery to add in their repetoire.


But against well-prepared opponents, these manufactored soldiers who were rumored to be recreating a weapon from the age of gods; the Rifle, from relics scattered across the land? He didn't even know if they had the power to do that, none of them seemed skilled enough to understand the Divine Arts. Yet, no matter how small the chance, as a Wizard of the Free Kingdoms, he mustn't let this pass. For such power cannot be in the hands of mongrels, l'est the ancient prophecy of destruction comes true.


"Nay," He shook himself free from his thoughts, tracing his finger along his brow and parting the hair from his eyes as he stared coldly at the befuddled prisoner before him. " ...And you're going to help me."

The jock had been tied to a sturdy chair in the centre of his "Alchemy Chamber", with the help of the Paladin and Templar, whom he had ordered to stand guard outside his place after they were done. He knew that they were more opposed to Magick than most -holy warriors with their codes and all. Yet these two were oddly curious about his arts, they were the only people other than himself in here, awake, in a long time. Maybe he might find the generousity to teach them a thing or two, he did ask for the brightest LARPers afterall.


"But for now ..."


The "Alchemy Chambers" were merely a series of small confined spaces with a fume hood and an emergency shower propped in the middle, to wash off any contaminants ...but in this case, he had more foresight to put it to better use. Holding a flask of pungent, aseptic-smelling purplish liquid, he proceeded to the chambers with but a sneer smile.


(OOC: I'll post when Oan has arrived at the scene or I will automatically asssume so once another person has posted, that 30 minutes of in-game time has elapsed.)

"

"I think these Jocks don't know what we're packing." Oan says with a sneer as his men charge towards battle, rage flowing through their veins as they head towards the Jock lines.

Back in the Science Wing

"EUREKA!" A cry comes out from one of the Chemistry labs, and the other LARP'ers run over as one of the weaponmasters walks out, carrying the deadliest weapon to be used on either side: a scratch-built Flamethrower, built from compact Nitrogen tank found in the dark corners of the archives, which was put in a backpack, then were filled with flammable gas and attached to an old paint gun that has a pilot light taped to the front. The radio call goes out throughout the LARP radio about the new weapon.

"Mage Elminster, we have news." Templar Abraham says, knocking on the door. "Our weaponmasters have created a flamethrower from parts around the school. It's creator is requesting that you look it over, seeing as you are a master of Fire."

Knock. Knock.. Knock ...

"Mage Elminster, we have news." Templar Abraham says, knocking on the door. "Our weaponmasters have created a flamethrower from parts around the school. It's creator is requesting that you look it over, seeing as you are a master of Fire."

Knock. Knock.. Knock ...


With each rattle spread a darker grimace on the LARPwright's face, he hated being interupted, not just during his spells or study or basically any facet of his life ...and ceratinly NOT DURING DELICATE EXPERIMENTS THAT INVOLVE THE FRAGILE PSYCHE OF THE HUMAN MIND. Letting out but a tolerated sigh, he mustered his composure and continued his work ...

"Mage Elminster."

The Templar repeated.

Knock. Knock.. Knock ...

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF-" He paused to consider his religions. "..."

"Hold on to your panties, I'm coming! Geez ..." He grumbled as he dropped the pendulum back into his pocket and hustled out of the room, complaining under his breath how he was to achieve great work or how a never day passed without him being burdened by mundane people, basically, complaining about everything under the sun. It was one of the very few things in life that made him this way.


Then he unlocked the door, keeping as little of the room revealed as possible when he walked out to greet the templar.

"Yes, what is it, Knight Abraham." The Wizard asked dully and Abraham presented the flamethrower promptly.

"Your leader has asked of me a favour, to distract an entire horde of our enemy, who could probably run faster than your or I combined. Climb higher, jump further. This is no easy feat, I assure you." He lied, it was easy, but he wanted something more from the battle, which made it less easy. "To survive, nonetheless."

"And now, he asks of me to appraise his weapon? What do I look like? An Engineer? Part of his crew?" He asked the stunned knight who had really no answer to reply with, save for the awkward silence that passed between them the few seconds later. Sighing, he gave the flamethrower a good look over, placing his thumb over the lighter and spraying some of the gas out. He then snapped his fingers as small sparks erupted, lighting it briefly as the Templar shirked back. Elminster remained undaunted by such paltry fire.

"Kindly tell the Artificer that made this to use a liquid medium instead of gas, he wants to fire-and-forget, not stand within melee range and attempt to barbeque the enemy ... Might as well use a sword then, at least you'd have a chance of winning. Gases have no reach and are too easily deflectable if you know how, have him ..OR her substitute it with aqua vitae or petrol and increase the pressure in the nozzle to match. Also, acrylic melts. Melamin doesn't."

"Now," He handed the device back to the Templar who seemed slightly confounded by what he said but at least knew how to convery the message properly. Paladins and Templars were known to occasionally dabble in the Divine Arts (technology), this was not too far from their grasp at least. "I must get back to my work if I am to save any of your kinsmen."


He was about to close the door when he felt something unpleasant, something annoying in his chest.

"...And take these." He tossed a sachet of few white pills to the Templar. "For your efforts. Keep them to yourself. They wipe away the pains of wounds and infections." Elminster shut the door behind him and leaned on it, reflecting upon the situation that just took place.

Guilt. Compassion? What useless emotions to have. But he was glad to be rid of their nagging annoyance. Truth was, despite his cold, calculating exterior. He had a semblance of a human heart, if only slightly, which was what made him fight to protect the LARPers in the first place. Even if he felt no obligation towards Oan and the other GMs.

-------------------



A long while later, the doors of the Laboratory opened once more.