Lost

[MrEdwardNigma]

OOC

We see the ocean. It's bright blue and quite calming. Perhaps this is a lagoon?

We see a column of smoke, being blown seawards by the wind.

We follow it, to a beach. The beach borders on the jungle, that much is visible, but the cause of the smoke is obscured by, well, the smoke.

We dive through the smoke and see the remains of a crashed plane, scattered over the beach.

We zoom in even closer, spiralling towards a woman, one of the survivors of the planecrash.

She opens her mouth to scream, but instead of her voice we hear a loud explosion. The woman is blown away in aflurry of fire. The screen turns to black. We see four huge white letters amidst the black, slowly approaching, turning towards us.

LOST.

Seconds ago they had all been on Oceanic Flight 213, but now all these different people, each with their own reason for having been on the plane, were stranded here. Some were hurt, some were crying. A lot of them were lying unconscious in the sand.

The situation on the beach was pretty hectic. There was debris scattered all over the place, but the biggest chunk of airplane lay in the middle of it all. It was the midsection, and was still pretty much intact, though thoroughly shaken.

One of the engines had blown up in a blaze and taken quite a few lives, including that of the young woman we saw in this episode's introduction. The other engine had fallen in a bunch of trees and was leaking heaps of oil, which was just pouring down out of the trees.

To add to the general chaos, some of the passengers had been sucked out of the plane during the crash and had fallen into the water. Most of them were splashing around wildly, but some might have fainted or have gotten wounded and weren't able to swim.

Somewhere in a house, in a galaxy far, far away, a family had just turned on the first episode of a brand new show. All of them were gazing at the screen, wondering what this show was really about. The father happened to be an educated man and remarked that the show had achieved an additional sense of chaos by starting in medias res, but no-one listened and his wife told him to shut up. They were sure that, as with any show, the characters were about to be introduced, and if they missed even the slightest bit of it, they would regret it for the rest of their lives.

Spoiler

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Welcome to the deserted island. My name is Edward, and I will be your guide during the next three posts, after which GMing will be passed on to one of my equally capable colleagues. Don't worry, I will eventually be back, but only after each and everyone of my co-GMs has GMed three post and added their own special flavour to the mix.

This is episode one of LOST, our brand new series. Episode one will deal with the introduction of the various characters who have just landed on the island. It might end as soon as the next GM takes over, but then again, that's not this guide's decision. Episode one wil continue until someone feels the need to start episode two, at an appropriate break in the story. The break will be appropriate because we say so. It is our job to write this thing,after all, we're bound to know more about it than you do.

You will notice all the characters start off on the beach with little to no equipment. They might tell you how the plane crashed, but they might be wrong. Most of them don't know a lot about the crash and how it happened, really. You will also notice that none of the players are godmodders, even though they are the GMs at times, they will not abuse their power during their character's posts, which are always seperate from the GMings. During their flashbacks they can do as they please, off course, as long as it doesn't interfere too much with the flashbacks of others.

Well, have fun and enjoy the ride!

[TRM]

Bloom

A wiry man collapses to his knees in the foam and surf, clutching his black hair. "The zombis, the zombis are behind this." he moans. He wears a jacket, more suitable to a mountain climber than an airline passenger, and silver chain hangs out from the front of his shirt as he bends over.

He suddenly straightens and stands, instantly businesslike.
"We'll be invaded any moment, so we must prepare. Ideally we would head to the mall; but, until then, I suggest that we split into teams and find everything necessary for survival: weapons, food, shelter, H20, etc..."
He looks at his fellow survivors. "Organize yourselves into groups based on your specialties: Construction, foraging, and combat. I will lead the groups, seeing as I know the most about zombis and foraging!"

[Thistle]

Thomas

A head breaks through the waves, coughing. The man's hair is wet and plastered with salt water. He holds a seat cushion tightly as he looks around, dazed and confused. After a couple of seconds he comes to his senses from a scream nearby. A little girl crys out, struggling to keep above water.
He kicks towards her calling out.
"Stay calm it's going to be alright. I'm coming to help you." As he gets closer the girl grabs hold of him and the cushion. Her failing threatens to drown them both but Thomas manages to restrain her enough. "Listen, you have to keep still. You're alright." He starts towards the shore while still talking to her, trying to keep her calm. "My name's Thomas. What's yours?"
"Rebecca." her voice is small and fearful but she's stopped thrashing.
"Well Rebecca, your safe now. We'll be to land in no time."
Thomas comes to the beach a little way from the crash. He kneels to the girl's level. "Now stay here where it's safe." He quickly strips his shoes, jeans and the buttoned shirt over his t-shirt before heading back into the water.

[JettWilderbeast]

Mr. Walters
Mr. Walters unbuckles himself from his seat. Somehow throughout a plane crash, he, a middle aged man had managed to stay in his seat without being hurt in any way. He stood up from his seat and took in the chaos around him; People were hurt and dying, he had to do something. He runs over to the break in the plane and looks for the best way to get out, as he climbs off the plane he runs to the first person he sees. An elderly woman lays on the floor bleeding into the sand; Oh my God! Oh my God! Maam! Maam! Are you ok? Can I help you? The lady looks at him for a few fleeting seconds before nodding her head to the side as her eyes become lifeless. Mr. Walters numb from shock and bisbelief of the horrible situation he is in kneels next to the woman and openly weeps.

[MrEdwardNigma]

Raki
A man crawls up, his face and his white robes covered in sand. His hand strokes his forehead and he startles as he looks at it. Blood. His head was bleeding. It didn't seem to be too bad though. He crawled up and looked around him and saw there were many more wounded, most more gravely than he.

Suddenly we see the same man, only without the headwound, sitting in a pub, laughing. There are four more men at his table, all dressed in robes similar to his. None of them wear an amulet in the shape of a crescent moon as he does though. We see a waiter pas out beers among the men. In the background there's a bear's head above the bar with beneath it the text "Brown's Pub".

One of the men, he has a short beard and a somewhat fattish head, but a fairly skinny body, suggesting he lost a lot of weight, raised his glass.
"The prophet smiles on us today!"
There was a cheer from the men as they all raised their beers. They all drank simultaneously. We see the man who was involved in the planecrash again, he is smiling as he looks upon his brethren. He too sips his beer as the men discuss the song that's playing on the jukebox.

The man with the beard turns towards him and asks "So, Raki, tomorrow is the day of reckoning. Do you think we are ready?"

"Oh, yes, the stars smile on us, Pakur, surely. I can almost feel the threads of destiny being woven beneath my feet, forming a bridge to support us on our leap into the unknown"

"Oh, yes, I can feel that too. I am truly glad to be a part of this. I can't believe I was picked too, I only learned about The True Path five years ago"

"And look where you are today, my friend. It is true that Lord Sun bestows great gifts on his children. You, of all people should know that. You have been a valuable pilar of our community, and now you will reap the fruit of your labour"

The man with the beard laughed heartily. They both raised their beers and as the glasses touched the flashback ended.

Back on the beach, Raki was still staring at the chaos. Suddenly he heard screams from the wreckage, and he ran towards them. He found a woman, stuck under debris.

"Quickly, someone! By the stars, I need help!"

[TRM]

Bloom

Bloom hesitates for a moment, then pumps his fist into the air and rushes over to Raki. "Excellent job everyone! You passed the first test! Before we start foraging and building shelter, we should be careful to save the survivors; I'm very glad that you all remembered to do this without me having to tell you!"

When he arrives next to Raki, he tries to move the wreckage off of the woman.

[MrEdwardNigma]

Raki

Bloom

Bloom hesitates for a moment, then pumps his fist into the air and rushes over to Raki. "Excellent job everyone! You passed the first test! Before we start foraging and building shelter, we should be careful to save the survivors; I'm very glad that you all remembered to do this without me having to tell you!"

When he arrives next to Raki, he tries to move the wreckage off of the woman.

"Yes, yes, thank you. Lord Sun will smile on you"

As Raki and Bloom drag away the debris, they reveal a pair of bloody and broken legs.

"By the stars... Is there a doctor around? Anyone with medical experience?"

[HardboiledJJ]

Samuel Parish

Explosions. Screaming. The desperate throes of survival.

Samuel is oblivious to it all. Somehow he is missing his right shoe. He wanders aimlessly in a daze asking random people "Have you suh-suh-suh seen my sh-sh-sh, . . .the other one" as he points to the left shoe.

Flashback

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Samuel sits in the crowded terminal with a laptop. We can't see what he's doing, but he's bobbing his head and smiling liking an oaf. A lady suddenly closes the laptop and pulls it away from him. "Enough now." She is tall, sleek, and sexy, and her suit screams corporate. Her features are vulpine-she looks like the kind of woman that could hurt you. . .and make you like it. With her free hand she talks on a cell phone.

"Yes sir"

She looks at Samuel.

"Completely sir. But may I remind you this is the last time."

She disconnects the call. She reaches her hand out to Sam's shoulder with a fake smile. He cringes away from her.

"Very well, I don't really care if we play nice. You are getting on Oceanic Flight 213. Nod if you understand. Good boy."

Her phone rings again. She looks panicked as she answers it.

"Oh God, not now."

She starts to hurry off, then turns to Samuel.

"Do you see the board up there with the flights listed. You are not to move from this spot until the light indicating Oceanic Flight 213 is boarding comes on. You know what I'll do if you don't comply."

With that she was gone. Samuel scuffs his shoes and rocks back and forth in his chair. The intercom announces it is time to board, and the other passengers file into the plane. Samuel doesn't budge. He just stares at the board. The boarding light hadn't come on.

[CannibalHymn]

Mick Levin was as lucky as the pack of cigarettes in his front pocket. He'd landed on the dry sand, where his pack of smokes wouldn't get wet; his suitcase, recognizable in its pink-and-green-leopard-print splendour, was visible and visibly intact, even if it was dangling from one of the lower branches of a tree; his long sleeved shirt, long hair, jeans, and bandana had taken the worst of the roll in the rough, but soft, sand, keeping him unbroken and without the road-rash he saw on most of the people around him. Levin's first inctincs, isolated on a strange island with a wrecked plain, were twofold. First, he pulled the black paisley bandana off of his head and shook the sand out of it and his hair. Second, he raised a cigarette to his lips, away from the stupid lavatory smoke detectors, and lit the Newport menthol with a smooth, fluid movement of his lighter, inhaling a deep lungful of smoke.

Next on his list of priorities came an item from his left pocket, a comb he ran through his wavy hair, putting it back neatly (but not too neatly; he wanted to look like he didn't care) in the place it had been before the crash and subsequent sand removal had messed it up, then tyed the bandana back around his head. He exhaled the impressive drag he'd been holding in his lungs for the entire combing process into the formerly clean, still humid tropical air.

Levin wasn't exactly insensitive to the plight of his fellow man (or woman, in the interests of remaining PC), that he tok this much time before attending to the injured around him. Firstly, he was aware until he'd gotten his own nerves right and head back on straight, he wasn't going to be of much help to anyone. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, he was the only person in his immediate vicinity who was not very obviously dead. It would seem that in the strangely orchestrated roll he'd taken when he hit the ground to protect his cigs had, in fact, saved him from the wrath of a razour-sharp piece of metal that had broken from the fuselage in the crash, which appeared to have killed two of the four lying next to him. A third hit slightly father down the beach, where the lapping waves hardened the sand enough to savagely break his neck upon impact. The final corpse around him was, in fact, half of a corpse, and Mick preferred not to dwell on how the poor guy got to be that way.

Levin inspected his clothes. His long-slevved shirt was torn, which was no big loss. He wore it on the plane so he didn't have to waste a shirt he liked on a day he'd spend asleep. His jeans were fine, his cowboy boots were fine, and the switchblade tucked into the inside of the boot was still pressing against his shin. He popped the knife out, glad TSA didn't do its job very well, and slipped it into his pocket for easier access. Sauntering up the beach, Levin moved to take his bag down the tree, only to find it out of his reach. He'd have to find someone taller. Approaching the larger, more alive crowd than the one he'd "landed" with, Levin called out "Hey," to a guy in a robe and another man who'd been barking orders Levin was too far away to understand a moment before. He gave them a quick wave and sprinted closer, hoping to find someone taller to get his bag down while he took over with whatever they were doing for a minute or two.

[Thistle]

Thomas

The yelling and confusion has started to die down in the water. Those that can have begun swimming to shore. Some of the injured have grabbed hold of floating luggage and started to the beach.
Still, the unconscious float among the dead bodies, while those that are hurt thrash about in desperation. Thomas swims quickly, adrenaline pumping through his blood, but two people slip below the surface before Thomas can reach them.
He makes it to a Latino man who has a bleeding gash on his arm. With some effort, Thomas gets the man to land. He grabs a suitcase and checks it for clean cloths before bringing it over. "This will hurt but I need you to lay still. Ok?" The man nods weakly. He pulls out a green cotton t-shirt, and presses it over the wound as the man cries out in pain.
A few yards down the beach, the little girl has started crying.

[JettWilderbeast]

Mr. Walters
Mr. Walters runs over to Bloom and Raki, I've got some medical experienc- Oh Christ! We have to do something.... Have either of you got first aid kits or anything? Mr. Walters looks around and then decides to go on a wing and a prayer; Right ok, nevermind. One of you two, go to the forest edge over the and get me lots of straight sticks. The other one, get me lots of cloth. Rip t shirts or something! We need to look after this woman!

[MrEdwardNigma]

Raki
Raki looked at the third man who came to help the woman.

"Ah, you are very generous. Are you a doctor? Can you help this woman?"

Raki was taller than most, and likely tall enough to get the suitcase out of the tree, but he seemed rather preoccupied with saving the survivors.

EDIT: Raki saw yet another man run up to him. This one claimed to have medical experience.

"Your arrival is a blessing, sir. I will do as you say"

Raki ran off quickly. His long, thin legs allowed him to run quite fast, but as soon as he reached the forest edge he had to slow down, so he wouldn't trip. He grabbed a bunch of stick only to then almost drop them. He was staring at the jet engine which was stuck in the trees and leaking huge amounts of oil. He ran back to the others and dropped the sticks.

"Just take off your shirts and give them to the doctor, quickly. I need your help. Lord Sun has yet another test for us"

He beckoned them and ran off towards the engine.

[HardboiledJJ]

Samuel Parish

"Have y-y-you seen. . .

As if of a sudden, Parish realizes the person in front of him is a little girl crying on the beach. Her clothes and face are flecked with blood. We see her desperately clinging to an adult man's hand. Parish initially is drawn in to look at the man's wristwatch, then his POV pans down slowly. The most grisly details are off screen, but the chest rises and falls with a wet wheezing noise.

"Ngh. . .nuh. . .no. D-d-don't touch. Don't tuh-tuh-tuh. . .

Samuel's head and shoulders twitch violently, and he can't quite bring his face back to look at the carnage. His hands a fumbling mess, he reaches out and tries to pull the girls hand away from the dying man.

She screams in the shrill ear splitting fashion only little girls can.

Once she starts screaming, he looks panicked and starts screaming, but his is more like the drone of a dying animal.

[CannibalHymn]

Mikhail Levin

"If either of you's tall enough to get it down, there's medical supplies in my bag. I'm not good with 'em, but I can keep somebody from dying, at least," Levin announces after Raki has, again, run off, this time for reasons unexplained. Or, rather, explained by saying the sun was doing something to test them? Right. "It's in the tree over there, green," Levin says, pointing to the garishly coloured bag a ways down the beach. "Here's these for now," he says, ripping off his already damaged shirt and quickly tearing it into a few strips, "This is gonna hurt like hell," Levin tells the woman, even though she seems unable to hear him. "Just so you know," before running off to see what Raki was talking about.

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"This is gonna hurt like hell, man," a faceless voice says from darkness. "You sure you don't want some mo' of that whiskey or nothin'?"

Levin's voice, now. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Day-amn, you can't even talk, can you? You screwed up, Mick, I don't know if you remember."

"I remember."

"Brother, you ain't doin' nothin' but bitin' your tongue deeper and deeper. You got Mr. Chang's reflexes to thank that your Rushki ass ain't dead. I ain't never seen anybody move that fast."

"Shut up and get it over with, hillbilly."

"Easy, man, easy. Don't bite out your tongue or nothin', gettin' all worked up."

There is a wet, sharp sound, like a blade cutting skin. Mick's internal voice is silent, and the white fades to black.

"So, what's the big test?" Levin says as he catches up to Raki, though he smells the oil long before he sees it, right after he asks the question. We look into his eyes, which open wide, almost in pain as his nostrils flare with the smell. We close in to one pupil, hearing squealing, the breaking of glass, and then briefly flash to an image of a greenish explosion. Pulling back out, Levin shakes his face with a bit fo scoul, drops his cigarette to the beach and crushes it out. "Good timing for it to run out," he says.

[UserClone]

Dirk La Fleur
A man, in what used to be a pinstriped suit which now hangs in tatters from his body, drags himself silently up the beach by one hand, his other arm severely broken. He is bleeding from his left thigh just above the knee. At first it seems there should be more blood judging by the size of the gash, until it is noticed that he has tied a seatbelt to the leg, still attatched to a seat, and that, too, is being dragged, slowly and with great effort. "Uuuhngh...," he manages to croak before passing out, just after he has come into view.

[Thistle]

Thomas

Thomas looks up when Rebecca starts screaming. He quickly motions one of the other survivors over to him. I need you keep pressure on this." The teenager balks but Thomas takes her hands and presses them to the shirt. If this gets soaked get another shirt and maintain pressure.
He stands, his hands still red with blood. He yells at Samuel while jogging across the sand. "Hey! You! What are doing?!" Anger resonates in his voice.

[MrEdwardNigma]

Raki
Raki looked up at the leaking engine in despair.

"We must fix this before it explodes. But how does one stop it from exploding?"

[HardboiledJJ]

Samuel

Parish sees the man running at him-covered in blood and yelling his name. His body goes limp and he falls to the ground in a pathetic fetal position.

"No light!!!! D-d-don't go!! Don't tuh-tuh-touch!!!!!

[TRM]

Bloom

"Got them." Bloom says to Mikhail. He scrambles up the tree, reaching for foot and arm holds.

Flashback

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"Blo-oom! Come down from there or you'll hurt yourself."
The woman calling is mid height dressed neatly but plainly, her hairstyle is the same. Then we see Bloom, a much younger Bloom to be sure, but unmistakably him. He is more than 70 feet into the air, climbing up a massive oak tree that grows upward parallel to an 8 story building.

"But Mom, I want to wave hello to Dad!" the younger Bloom yells back, "I'll be fine, don't worry—it's just 8 stories."

The woman sighs and looks concerned, but then visibly relents. "Alright then, but be sure to come right down!"

Bloom smiles and begins clambering back up the tree, moving quickly and incautiously—but very skillfully.

It doesn't take Bloom long to reach the top of the tree (right?) and when he gets to the top, he leans out and tries to grab the bag of medical supplies.

[Thistle]

Thomas

Thomas stops short, surprised by Samuel's reaction. Rebbeca runs over when the hand holding her goes lax. Latching onto his leg she starts tugging him towards the dying man. Thomas keeps an eye on Samuel but lets the girls lead him.
She lets go of Thomas and switches over to the man's hand. She manages to sob up some words through her tears. "Daddy! Daddy! I got help. Please be ok Daddy, Daddy I love." Thomas stares at the man. His injuries are still not shown. Thomas' gaze slowly shifts to the little girl.
You're ok Daddy. I love you Daddy"

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"I love you too sweetheart.
Thomas is moving through an airport terminal on a moving walkway and talking on a cell. Mountain landscape frescoes slowly go by in the background.
He gives a small chuckle. "Butterfly kisses to you too. Ok, can you put Mommy on?.... Love you. Bye.
"Hi Karen...... I'm on my way to board right now." Thomas frowns. The Latino man pushes past in a hurry and Thomas doesn't take much notice. "We've talked about this already, Karen. We both agreed it was necessary..... They've given us assurances that most will be safe..... We can trust them at least as far as serves their own needs.... Yes I'm sure.... I will.... I'll talk to you as soon as I can... I don't know.... I love you. He hangs up the phone but continues to look at it for a short time. Looking up at the murals as they go by he lets out a sigh.
Then his eye catches one mountain in particular. Its top is dome shaped but it has two crags splitting it. Horsetooth near Fort Collins, Colorado. Thomas looks over the hand railing near the mountain. On the other side is a small leather carry on bag. Thomas reaches over and grabs it as he goes past. Rifling through he pulls out what looks like a chrome palm pilot but its design suggests that it's not just an everyday held device. It only has a number pad and one side curves in like a crescent. Thomas turns it over in his hand, puts it back in the bag and continues walking through the terminal.

Rebecca looks up at him with wet eyes and blood on her dress. His eyes are shocked and fearful as he looks at the wheezing chest rise and fall. He drops to his knees beside her but seems at a loss for what to do.

[CannibalHymn]

"Yeah," Mikhail yells over his shoulder as he starts running to the Engine, "all the medical stuff's in the front, zipped pocket."The bag would be heavier than you'd expect, for a shabby, fairly small duffel. The front pouch was packed with bandages, clove oil (a topical anaesthetic), a pair of hemostats, a few scalpels, two small bottles (labeled "Burns" and "Disinfectant" in tiny handwriting), and the rough sort of bandage used for removing debris from a wound.

"No idea," Mikhail shrugs to the robed man. "But we'll come up with something. Name's Mick Levin, and I always do." Levin's mind fluttered back to the unpleasant memory of the explosion, vague and immaterial. The weeks around it, too, were gone from his brain through a mix of hard drinking and repression. The explosion was green. Oil burned that greenish tint. "Don't let the oil hit the hot part of the engine, it'll combust. Otherwise, we just should have a bad smelling patch of sand," Mikhail reasoned; it wouldn't just explode without reason, and the oil needed to catch on something. Anything that made sparks in there also made heat. So two birds with one stone, at least. "How to stop that, though, is anybody's guess."

[MrEdwardNigma]

GM post
Ominous music starts to play somewhere as the trees creak and the engine hanging in them screeched down, sparks flying from one of the open panels that was next to a tree. The islanders didn't even notice the music, but the sparks were pretty obvious, as was the engine almost falling.