Stumbling to the East, silently, Marek came out into absolute desolation once he pressed the door release to move out into the room beyond. The room never looked good to begin with, but the corpses were making it even less pleasant. There was an eerie feel to the place.

It very well replicated his own feelings right now. The room was a wilderness of broken and twisted metal parts. An old disused truck in the middle completed the scene. His heart wasn't much in it at the moment. How long would he last out here? He suddenly felt very, very old. In the wild he'd been strong but it was a mistake to come into contact with humanity again. He should've known better.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a sadness as he looked over the corpses of Kristoff and Airlea. Their faces were frozen in eternal horror. It was a cruel way to go. He'd survived that same fate but he didn't know how much longer he could last. He was cold and miserable and sore, but he rested up anyway.

That was when he noticed the items on the floor. There was a scroll, a set of shotgun shells and a walkie talkie. They were laid out in front of him, ripe for the taking.

It is now Phase 67. Phase 67 will end in roughly 24 hours from now.

Players (1):
Marek

Items:
Scroll
Shotgun Shells
Walkie Talkie

Exits:
North
East
West

Fuck yes walkie.

##take walkie talkie talkie

##take scroll

##take shotgun shells

As Marek milled around the familiar room, he noticed the small stash of items scattered among the bloodied corpses of poor Kristoff and Airlea. The other two would pay for their transgressions. Marek maneuvered around the corpses of his former companions and collected the three items. Moving to the side, Marek slipped his pack from his shoulder and as he went to fill his pack with his new found hoard the sound of a door opening caught his attention.

A wet thud was the next thing he heard and he suddenly found himself unable to turn to investigate the first noise. Marek raised a hand to gingerly rub at his neck which had suddenly started to burn. His eyes went wide as his fingers found the shaft of an arrow sprouting from his throat. He pulled his hand away and desperately wiped the leaking crimson onto his dirty clothes. It seemed this one had found lethal purchase.

Marek had spent enough time in the wilderness to know that a living thing does not have a good chance at a happy ending with an arrow threaded through their throat. But maybe, just maybe he could work it out and dress his wound. If the room would stop spinning. And the lights would stop dimming, that is.

"Fuck me."

Marek gurgled out, and it was followed by a sigh that sounded way too wet. The blood was flowing from his neck quite freely now, and the front of his torso was awash in his own life. Marek abruptly fell to his knees next to Airlea and Kristoff. He still clutched the walkie talkie defiantly in his hand. He wanted to try to turn it on, but his body wasn't cooperating with him.

Soon after he fell forward onto his face and the last thing he saw was the walkie talkie sliding away from him on the blood slick floor as he expired.