Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Lysanthra makes Maya a drink, then mixes something calming for herself. It isn’t strong enough to make her sleepy... just enough to loosen the tension in her muscles. Even so, she stays alert, listening for strange noises or sudden movement. She doesn’t know this area, and with everything happening tonight, she doubts she’ll get anything close to peaceful sleep. She settles in anyway, trying to relax while she still has the chance.
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Frank basks in a warm, quiet satisfaction as he watches the camp devour his cooking. For once, he’s appreciated for something that’s his alone, and the feeling settles deep. Breakfast is already turning over in the back of his mind, like eggs, peppers, maybe tortillas if he’s lucky.
Brad, meanwhile, sends up a silent prayer that whatever’s out there is just a normal predator and not some nightmare with too many teeth. Either way, he’s keeping his guns close tonight. He returns to his food, trying to focus on the taste instead of the dying deer’s final, awful silence. Whatever dragged it off does so without ceremony. Frank’s food, though. The man might be an even better chef than brewer.
Lysanthra brews ginseng tea in one of Frank’s kettles, then mixes chamomile for herself. It’s just enough to ease the tension in her shoulders, not enough to dull her senses. She stays alert, listening for strange noises, watching for movement. She doesn’t know this land, and with everything happening tonight, peaceful sleep feels like a luxury she won’t get. Still, she settles in, trying to rest while she can.
Maya takes a careful sip and smiles. “Thank you. This is good. Reminds me of home.”
When Frank finishes eating, he starts cleaning up. Johnny and Sam help without being asked, sorting utensils and organizing gear. The moment the lookout calls a warning, Frank begins packing his things, ready to move if needed.
“Hey Johnny,” he says quietly, “You got a gun? Because I don’t. Let’s be ready in case this is serious.”
Johnny nods. “I’ve got the nine‑mil my dad gave me. Heard it’s not very effective this far from home, though. Why?”
“Because loud noises scare off potential threats,” Steve says, matter‑of‑fact. Johnny nods again, reassured.
Later, Frank pulls out a stash of hard cider. “Nothing too strong until we’re closer to… well, people. But I’ve got a bottle saved for when we get there and another for when we get home safe.”
Steve snatches one immediately. “Yes! You’re a lifesaver, man.”
Several of Larry’s laborers take one too. Johnny grabs a bottle with a grin; Sam politely declines. By the time Frank reaches for his own, only one remains.
The rest of the night settles into a rare calm with no wind, no snow, just a cold sky full of stars and a warm fire holding the darkness at bay. Frank preps ingredients for omelets or breakfast burritos, then crawls into the ATV. He sets his alarm early, determined to have hot food ready when everyone wakes.
The next morning, Frank promptly has a decision to make: Omelets or Burrritos?
Brad, meanwhile, sends up a silent prayer that whatever’s out there is just a normal predator and not some nightmare with too many teeth. Either way, he’s keeping his guns close tonight. He returns to his food, trying to focus on the taste instead of the dying deer’s final, awful silence. Whatever dragged it off does so without ceremony. Frank’s food, though. The man might be an even better chef than brewer.
Lysanthra brews ginseng tea in one of Frank’s kettles, then mixes chamomile for herself. It’s just enough to ease the tension in her shoulders, not enough to dull her senses. She stays alert, listening for strange noises, watching for movement. She doesn’t know this land, and with everything happening tonight, peaceful sleep feels like a luxury she won’t get. Still, she settles in, trying to rest while she can.
Maya takes a careful sip and smiles. “Thank you. This is good. Reminds me of home.”
When Frank finishes eating, he starts cleaning up. Johnny and Sam help without being asked, sorting utensils and organizing gear. The moment the lookout calls a warning, Frank begins packing his things, ready to move if needed.
“Hey Johnny,” he says quietly, “You got a gun? Because I don’t. Let’s be ready in case this is serious.”
Johnny nods. “I’ve got the nine‑mil my dad gave me. Heard it’s not very effective this far from home, though. Why?”
“Because loud noises scare off potential threats,” Steve says, matter‑of‑fact. Johnny nods again, reassured.
Later, Frank pulls out a stash of hard cider. “Nothing too strong until we’re closer to… well, people. But I’ve got a bottle saved for when we get there and another for when we get home safe.”
Steve snatches one immediately. “Yes! You’re a lifesaver, man.”
Several of Larry’s laborers take one too. Johnny grabs a bottle with a grin; Sam politely declines. By the time Frank reaches for his own, only one remains.
The rest of the night settles into a rare calm with no wind, no snow, just a cold sky full of stars and a warm fire holding the darkness at bay. Frank preps ingredients for omelets or breakfast burritos, then crawls into the ATV. He sets his alarm early, determined to have hot food ready when everyone wakes.
The next morning, Frank promptly has a decision to make: Omelets or Burrritos?
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Lysanthra tried to rest but every little sound put her body on high alert. Sleep was impossible throughout the night so she just laid there in the dark with the pistol by her side just in case. When it was first light, Liz stood and stretched for a while. She was certain the lack of sleep would catch up eventually but for now she wanted to get up and do something. She decided to make some strong black tea to help lift the fog in her mind and hopefully lift her spirits as well. Lysanthra was humming to herself as she worked, concentrating on her task. As soon as she could smell it brewing she smiled. She took a few sips after it was ready, still very hot just the way she liked it. The warmth spread through her, giving her comfort as well as a little more energy.
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Brad wakes from a night with several bad dreams of being hunted by a shadowy creature, but he did manage to sleep.
Stretching, he wanders over to see what Frank has put together for breakfast, with his rifle slung over his shoulder. "Morning all."
Looking over at Lysanthra, he says "You okay, Lys? You're looking a little rough."
Stretching, he wanders over to see what Frank has put together for breakfast, with his rifle slung over his shoulder. "Morning all."
Looking over at Lysanthra, he says "You okay, Lys? You're looking a little rough."
The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live. - George Carlin
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Lysanthra looks at Brad and nods, "Got a little rest, just no actual sleep. I'll be okay after I finish this tea and some breakfast". She watches Frank cook and quietly sips her tea.
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Lysanthra tries to rest, but every little sound puts her body on high alert. Sleep is impossible throughout the night, so she just lies there in the dark with the pistol at her side, just in case. When first light comes, Liz stands and stretches for a while. She’s certain the lack of sleep will catch up eventually, but for now she wants to get up and do something. She decides to make some strong black tea to lift the fog in her mind and hopefully her spirits as well.
Lysanthra hums to herself as she works, concentrating on her task. As soon as she smells it brewing, she smiles. She takes a few sips once it’s ready, still very hot, just the way she likes it. The warmth spreads through her, giving her comfort and a little more energy.
Brad wakes from a night with several bad dreams of being hunted by a shadowy creature, but he did manage to sleep. Stretching, he wanders over to see what Frank has put together for breakfast, with his rifle slung over his shoulder. "Morning all." Looking over at Lysanthra, he says "You okay, Lys? You're looking a little rough."
Frank’s breakfast doesn’t just look great. This morning it erupts with energy the moment he starts cooking. He’s going full mad‑genius chef, whipping up a hybrid of omelets and burritos loaded with cheese, green onions, roasted bell peppers, caramelized onions, salt, pepper, and that perfect golden browning on the eggs. The tortillas? Restaurant‑quality, warm and soft with a whisper of garlic butter seared into their skin. The air is thick with the aroma of bacon, mushrooms, and a heroic amount of cheese, all sizzling in a respectable, yet still sinful, amount of bacon grease. Frank saves half the grease like a dragon hoarding treasure for later.
The combined scent of Frank’s cooking and Liz’s tea hits the camp like a joyful ambush. It’s the kind of smell that yanks people awake. Steve, especially, springs to life, bouncing, pacing, practically vibrating as he waits for food and begs Liz for a cup of tea like a caffeine-starved puppy addict.
Lysanthra nods, still wrapped in that early‑morning haze. “Got a little rest, just no actual sleep. I’ll be okay after I finish this tea and some breakfast.” She watches Frank work with quiet appreciation, sipping her tea like it’s the only thing tethering her to the waking world.
As usual, Sam is already there, wrapping breakfast burritos with assembly‑line precision while Johnny finally wakes up and starts prepping plates for omelets. Frank sets out the potato chips as a hashbrown alternative, and Steve immediately helps himself by taking nearly half the chips and a burrito in one swoop.
Maya peeks out of the ATV, immediately regretting it as she witnesses Steve devouring his food with the grace of a starving farm animal. She grimaces and opts for an omelet instead. Glancing toward Brad and Liz, she asks, “What are you two going to have?”
OOC: Ingredients used: 4 bell peppers, 1# onions, 1/4lb of mushrooms, 1# bacon, all of the eggs, 1# flour, all of the green onions, all of the cheese.
Lysanthra hums to herself as she works, concentrating on her task. As soon as she smells it brewing, she smiles. She takes a few sips once it’s ready, still very hot, just the way she likes it. The warmth spreads through her, giving her comfort and a little more energy.
Brad wakes from a night with several bad dreams of being hunted by a shadowy creature, but he did manage to sleep. Stretching, he wanders over to see what Frank has put together for breakfast, with his rifle slung over his shoulder. "Morning all." Looking over at Lysanthra, he says "You okay, Lys? You're looking a little rough."
Frank’s breakfast doesn’t just look great. This morning it erupts with energy the moment he starts cooking. He’s going full mad‑genius chef, whipping up a hybrid of omelets and burritos loaded with cheese, green onions, roasted bell peppers, caramelized onions, salt, pepper, and that perfect golden browning on the eggs. The tortillas? Restaurant‑quality, warm and soft with a whisper of garlic butter seared into their skin. The air is thick with the aroma of bacon, mushrooms, and a heroic amount of cheese, all sizzling in a respectable, yet still sinful, amount of bacon grease. Frank saves half the grease like a dragon hoarding treasure for later.
The combined scent of Frank’s cooking and Liz’s tea hits the camp like a joyful ambush. It’s the kind of smell that yanks people awake. Steve, especially, springs to life, bouncing, pacing, practically vibrating as he waits for food and begs Liz for a cup of tea like a caffeine-starved puppy addict.
Lysanthra nods, still wrapped in that early‑morning haze. “Got a little rest, just no actual sleep. I’ll be okay after I finish this tea and some breakfast.” She watches Frank work with quiet appreciation, sipping her tea like it’s the only thing tethering her to the waking world.
As usual, Sam is already there, wrapping breakfast burritos with assembly‑line precision while Johnny finally wakes up and starts prepping plates for omelets. Frank sets out the potato chips as a hashbrown alternative, and Steve immediately helps himself by taking nearly half the chips and a burrito in one swoop.
Maya peeks out of the ATV, immediately regretting it as she witnesses Steve devouring his food with the grace of a starving farm animal. She grimaces and opts for an omelet instead. Glancing toward Brad and Liz, she asks, “What are you two going to have?”
OOC: Ingredients used: 4 bell peppers, 1# onions, 1/4lb of mushrooms, 1# bacon, all of the eggs, 1# flour, all of the green onions, all of the cheese.
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Lysanthra happily shares her tea and decides to have a burrito. She will definitely need the energy today. Liz is grateful that Frank is such a good cook. She enjoys her food and tea slowly while listening to the group's chit chat.
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Brad grabs a burrito and an omelet. "Man, you are a great cook, Frank."
sitting down near Lysanthra to eat, he says, "Once we get moving, you can always nap in the clinic bed."
once he finishes, he'll take a stroll near the edge of the camp, glancing down at the vegetation, not that he's likely to spot anything. Then he checks in with Larry about when he plans to move out, then circles back to help with the dishes and packing up the trailer.
sitting down near Lysanthra to eat, he says, "Once we get moving, you can always nap in the clinic bed."
once he finishes, he'll take a stroll near the edge of the camp, glancing down at the vegetation, not that he's likely to spot anything. Then he checks in with Larry about when he plans to move out, then circles back to help with the dishes and packing up the trailer.
The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live. - George Carlin
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Lysanthra shares her tea with quiet warmth, but even as she bites into her burrito, a faint tension lingers behind her eyes. She’ll need every bit of energy today, lack of sleep dictates it. Liz savors her own meal slowly, grateful for Frank’s cooking, letting the group’s soft camp chatter wash over her like a temporary shield from the unknown.
Brad loads his plate with a burrito and an omelet, dropping beside Lysanthra. “Man, you’re a great cook, Frank.” He tries to sound casual, but his eyes keep drifting toward the tree line. “Once we get moving, you can nap in the clinic bed,” he adds to Lysanthra. As he finishes eating, he wanders off, scanning the vegetation for anything new. He finds nothing interesting. Not even the faint lines in the valley he’d seen last night. The world feels… wiped clean and fresh.
He then is reassured that Larry won’t move until everyone’s ready. Sam and Johnny scrub dishes with mechanical focus, and Brad joins Maya, who welcomes his company with a smile as she dries them off. She slips into small talk about the differences between Fort Hammer and Smith Falls, though her eyes flick now and then toward the silent valley, ever vigilant after last night's deer stalker.
Once camp is packed, the group piles into the respective vehicles. Brad maps out a route into the snow‑flecked basin while Lysanthra decides his advice was right; sleep might help. She straps herself into the gurney, unsure whether the bouncing ride will let her rest, but willing to try.
Frank tosses Steve another handful of chips after he complains about still being hungry. Maya teases him for being a glutton. “Hey! I’m a growing boy boy. I need energy for my stunts!” Steve protests, puffing up dramatically.
Maya rolls her eyes, "Are stunts mandatory during this trip?" and drifts into conversation with Sam, who still carries the weight of Megana’s disappearance like a stone in his chest.
The valley passes in uneasy quiet. Whatever came through the Rift is long gone, but the carnage it left behind, like piles of deer and one massive elk, tells its own story. Something huge moved through here. Something that didn’t bother hiding.
By early afternoon, Brad calls for a fuel stop, using all of the spare fuel from the trailer. The warming weather melts the snow into thick mud, and Steve has to help push the ATV free once. Eventually they reach an old pre‑cataclysm highway, reading "Wyoming State 191," its rusted sign barely legible after centuries of corrosion.
Late Lunch Break
The group votes to stop. Larry’s crew begins much‑needed maintenance while Frank debates what to cook next. They pull over beside an open field with a clear view in every direction. Geiger readings stay normal. The sun warms the Mountaineer’s solar panels, giving the batteries some more juice. Lysanthra wakes from a brief, jostled nap. Johnny and Sam build a fire from ancient fence post wood, the smoke curling into the shifting wind... Warm air. Cold air. Back and forth. Like the valley can’t decide what season it wants to be.
Frank pauses mid‑prep, squinting northward. Something moves above the distant mountains. Something flying.
Something… big.
Brad and Liz fan out into the field, seeing opportunity in the landscape. Maybe they can forage something to add to Frank’s arsenal of spices. But even as they search, the wind carries a faint, low hum across the plains. Not quite thunder. Not quite anything familiar. They feel as though they aren't alone.
OOC: Camp spot #3, what's everyone's plans? What is Frank gonna cook this time?
Brad loads his plate with a burrito and an omelet, dropping beside Lysanthra. “Man, you’re a great cook, Frank.” He tries to sound casual, but his eyes keep drifting toward the tree line. “Once we get moving, you can nap in the clinic bed,” he adds to Lysanthra. As he finishes eating, he wanders off, scanning the vegetation for anything new. He finds nothing interesting. Not even the faint lines in the valley he’d seen last night. The world feels… wiped clean and fresh.
He then is reassured that Larry won’t move until everyone’s ready. Sam and Johnny scrub dishes with mechanical focus, and Brad joins Maya, who welcomes his company with a smile as she dries them off. She slips into small talk about the differences between Fort Hammer and Smith Falls, though her eyes flick now and then toward the silent valley, ever vigilant after last night's deer stalker.
Once camp is packed, the group piles into the respective vehicles. Brad maps out a route into the snow‑flecked basin while Lysanthra decides his advice was right; sleep might help. She straps herself into the gurney, unsure whether the bouncing ride will let her rest, but willing to try.
Frank tosses Steve another handful of chips after he complains about still being hungry. Maya teases him for being a glutton. “Hey! I’m a growing boy boy. I need energy for my stunts!” Steve protests, puffing up dramatically.
Maya rolls her eyes, "Are stunts mandatory during this trip?" and drifts into conversation with Sam, who still carries the weight of Megana’s disappearance like a stone in his chest.
The valley passes in uneasy quiet. Whatever came through the Rift is long gone, but the carnage it left behind, like piles of deer and one massive elk, tells its own story. Something huge moved through here. Something that didn’t bother hiding.
By early afternoon, Brad calls for a fuel stop, using all of the spare fuel from the trailer. The warming weather melts the snow into thick mud, and Steve has to help push the ATV free once. Eventually they reach an old pre‑cataclysm highway, reading "Wyoming State 191," its rusted sign barely legible after centuries of corrosion.
Late Lunch Break
The group votes to stop. Larry’s crew begins much‑needed maintenance while Frank debates what to cook next. They pull over beside an open field with a clear view in every direction. Geiger readings stay normal. The sun warms the Mountaineer’s solar panels, giving the batteries some more juice. Lysanthra wakes from a brief, jostled nap. Johnny and Sam build a fire from ancient fence post wood, the smoke curling into the shifting wind... Warm air. Cold air. Back and forth. Like the valley can’t decide what season it wants to be.
Frank pauses mid‑prep, squinting northward. Something moves above the distant mountains. Something flying.
Something… big.
Brad and Liz fan out into the field, seeing opportunity in the landscape. Maybe they can forage something to add to Frank’s arsenal of spices. But even as they search, the wind carries a faint, low hum across the plains. Not quite thunder. Not quite anything familiar. They feel as though they aren't alone.
OOC: Camp spot #3, what's everyone's plans? What is Frank gonna cook this time?
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Rifts - DMH - Journey to Rifle Ridge
Lysanthra begins feeling uneasy in the field, being out in the open. She gets Brad's attention and asks, "Should we hurry back to the group or carefully keep searching?" She wants to explore a little more for anything useful but she also wants to be very careful. Liz is glad she grabbed the pistol just in case she needs it. She really hopes she doesn't have to use it though. She would swear they were being watched and she keeps looking for what or who it could be.