Norbury At Night

[Laraqua]

The night sky is bright with a bomber's moon that provides an unearthly glow about the dark, fog-shrouded streets. The stars, rarely glimpsed when London was lit up, now straggle across the heavens though they, too, are mostly shrouded by fog and smoke. The streets are dark but not yet quiet at 10pm due to the sounds of people being let out of a nearby pub with a brief flash of light. For those in the know, or who have local experience, this suburb is well-patrolled by the Norbury 5th Battalion of the Home Guard that is known for its efficiency and bravery ever since the Blitz began. Odds are that is why the drunks are so cautious as they slip out, despite their alcoholic touched minds. As you continue along your way, you hear the first Aid Raid Siren give warning about oncoming bombers.

Show,Navigate to know where the nearest air raid shelter is. The nurse should head to the First Aid Post where her ambulance is parked as that is where she'd be headed anyway.

[dormire]

William Cray lurches from The Hensley Arms, purposely ignoring the catcalls from behind him.

"I wouldn't do you even if you did have two legs, love!"
"Cray, I have you on tab for two quid now! I'll be seeing those coins tomorrow, you hear?"
"All mouth and no trousers, that 'un! Did you hear what he said to me?"

The voices blend together behind him and he tastes sour whiskey backing up on him. He stumbles to a nearby alley and, making sure there are no Fifthers about, retches the evening's excesses quietly against a wall. William recovers himself and smooths his lank hair against his scalp. Time for the sack, he thinks and, straightening his posture as best as he is able, begins to heel-toe it towards the general direction of his flat.

The air raid siren doesn't register at first, as it's competing with the general clangour in his head. After a few seconds and several huddled forms moving quickly about in the street, William's brain recognizes the danger. "Damn it, not now", he mutters through clenched teeth. His head swivels with a slight wobble as he tries to orient himself in space. "Now, where's that damnable shelter?"

Requested Roll,[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3622423/]Navigate = 55[/url] Bah, drunken sot!

[Mr. Handy]

Irene Carpenter hurries to her ambulance at the First Aid Post the instant she hears the siren. While most Londoners head for shelter at the sound, she has other duties that are worth risking her neck. Once more into the breach... she thinks cheerily.

[yockenthwaite]

Florence Bryant looks up at the sky as she hurries towards her First Aid Post to reach her ambulance. She never grows tired of seeing the stars at night, and always finds her gaze irresistibly drawn upwards. Something she doesn't get used to is the sound of the air raid alarm. It always strikes fear into her, with a knot developing in her stomach every time. Still she has work to do, and hurries on her way.

[royya]

Not again!
Doug mutters to himself and throws the bottle to a nearby alley. He catch a glimpse of another man (William Cray) and decides to follow him. That man probably knows where to go.

Navigate (1d100=25) - Fail

[yockenthwaite]

OOC Navigate roll,[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3623736/]Navigate roll (stat 20%) (1d100=28)[/url]

[aine]

John Brooks was hoping to get across London and to bed; it is late and his eyes hurt from repairing some intricate wiring in low light. As he hears the siren he stops to think for a moment but can't think where the nearest shelter is. He hurries on, hoping to meet someone he can ask directions.

[Laraqua]

William Cray starts staggering down the street, knowing enough about the pub to know that the owners would take everyone into the shelter and then lock the main doors so no one broke in and stole their liquor like they did a few weeks ago. That ruled out the pub. There were bound to be others, though he couldn't be too sure where. If he hurried down the streets far enough than he should be able to find a shelter somewhere.

Doug sees him hurrying and follows after him, assuming that a local would know where to go and hoping that William was, indeed, a local.

John sees the other two heading off in the same direction. Perhaps they know where the nearest shelter is?

Florence and Irene arrive at the First Aid Post in a sprightly fashion. They're unlucky enough - or is it lucky? - to have an adapted bus rather than an adapted taxi or even an actual ambulance. The bus can fit a lot of people inside but it doesn't control too well on damaged streets. Its parked underneath an open shed - really just a corrugated iron roof on poles - beside an adapted taxi and a ute with their drivers and first aiders already positioned inside.

As they approach, Richie, an ARP warden gives them a look up and down and says to them, "We're in it now. Gerry's coming over to give us a showing, I expect." Richie's a damnable pessimist, enough to make a Women's Volunteer Service volunteer cry into her soup, and perhaps that's why he didn't make the cut despite being a sprightly twenty five. He never has explained fully why he isn't in the Army. "Best go into your ready positions. I'll go man the phones."

"Shouldn't you already be manning them?" snapped Nurse Wigham from the adapted taxi.

"Well now!" said Richie, waving at a 15-year-old boy called Martie who had just appeared with his bicycle ready to fulfill his role as Messenger should the telephones fail. He headed inside, despite the fact that he'd be bound to make a good ambulance driver - having his license and all that - rather than acting as the telephonist and administrator. There were enough people for that sort of role. No need to waste a strong enough, able-bodied man.

Martie looked over at the ambulance drivers sadly before heading inside the short sandbagged corridor that led to the front door of the First Aid Post (built inside an old rotunda once used to serve food on festival days). Doubtless he would cop an ear load about how everyone was doomed and his family were sure to die.

[dormire]

William Cray, leaning heavily on his cane, limps in a zig-zag down the lane, swiveling his head to and fro. There must be a shelter near. Boarded windows and black out tape meet his every glance, so he stumbles onwards. He doesn't notice the small procession following his unsteady trail. "Damn, damn, damn! Where's a bloody sign when you need one?"

The faint baritone buzz of bombers begins to mingle with the sirens and he quickens his faltering steps. He turns down a lane, frantically whipping his head from one side of the street to another, looking vainly either for one of the familiar 'S' signs or for someone who is walking with some direction. Cray's headache intensifies, lending the night a hazy quality that occasionally strobes with pulses of red. Has the bombing already begun, he wonders. Surely not. I would have heard the explosions by now.

[yockenthwaite]

"Maybe it won't be so bad tonight Richie," says Florence, calling over to him, before turning around and heading over towards their adapted bus. She spots Irene and says "You got here quickly! We'd best get ready I suppose."

[Mr. Handy]

"Yes, chin up, Richie!" says Irene, chipper as always. She never lets Gerry get her down, so she's not about to let him do it either. She grins at Florence. "Hi, Florence. You got here fast yourself. Yes, let's get ready." She gives the ambulance a once over, checks its tires and engine, and making sure there's enough petrol in the tank. Someone else probably already did that, but she's the one who will be driving it and nobody else would be more motivated to do a good job. When she's satisfied with its condition, she gets behind the wheel. In a way, it's a good thing that she's the one issued this lumbering behemoth. She's confident that her driving skills can keep it under control, whereas the others might not be as able. "It does seem a shame that Richie's talents are being wasted. He'd be put to better use as a driver."

[royya]

Doug quickly catch up with the guy (William) that limps in front of him.
Hey, lad, where is the shelter ? Do you know where the shelter is ?
He turns back to another man that follow them (John) without waiting for an answer from William
Where's the shelter ? Anyone knows where the shelter is ? The f**king Nazis are coming and I really don't want to get blown up.
Doug scans the surrounding, hoping to catch a glimpse of the S sign but if he will not find one soon, he will have to break into a random place.

[aine]

John sees the two men in front of him and slows his walk, he can smell alcohol on one of them so decides to follow from a distance; a tall looming figure in the dark.

[yockenthwaite]

"Yes we could do with all the good drivers we can get," says Florence, watching as Irene checks over the ambulance. When the checks are complete and Irene gets into her seat Florence climbs in beside her. "I wonder where we're going tonight. I hope things don't get too bad this time." She sighs. "Still, there's a war on, and we've got a job to do. Mustn't complain."

[dormire]

Over his shoulder, William hears a cracking voice inquire, "Hey, lad, where is the shelter? Do you know where the shelter is?" Without breaking his hitching stride, he calls over his shoulder, "I don't bloody well know, do I? Otherwise I wouldn't be on this blasted road in this blasted dark with blasted Germans about to do my head in with blasted falling explosives!" A piece of pavement catches his good foot and he stumbles swiftly forwards, only avoiding a face plant by catching himself on his good knee. His prosthetic skids akimbo to him and he hisses with pain.

"Just perfect. I don't think this night can get any worse." William begins to lever himself up using his cane, briefly noting that his trouser leg has been flayed open and blood is trickling into his shoe.

[Laraqua]

The buzz of the bombers draws nearer and mixes with the familiar ack-ack sounds of the Antiaircraft gunners, followed by the rumbling whump of the first bombs dropping in the distance. Airplanes shoot past overhead toward the bombers coming from the north west and likely from one of Britain's own air fields. They walk up the tree-lined street of Biggin Hill with its pretty red-roofed townhouses to the left and its red brick half walls around the front yard. There's a slight tilt upward to the street that strains William's leg as they pass a large two-storey red brick scout hall that has been converted into a First Aid Post complete with a bus, a taxi, and a ute standing under a covered shelter as ambulances. There's a sign nearby that reads SHELTER THAT WAY! in big, black lettering with an arrow pointing down the street. They could attempt to take cover in the First Aid Post but it can get quite cramped and gory in there if they bring in any victims of the raid. Odds are the shelter is quite close, otherwise they wouldn't be re-directing people.

Thank goodness for the bomber's moon on the one hand, otherwise they'd have to either use a flashlight and risk drawing attention to themselves, or simply stagger around in the pitch black.

[dormire]

"God be praised," William exclaims. "Finally a bit of luck." He shambles in the direction of the helpful arrow as quickly as he is able, turning to shout briefly over his shoulder, "This way, lads! We're not done in, yet!"

[Mr. Handy]

Irene nods. "It's starting," she says. "I hope those chaps make it to the shelter in time."

[royya]

Need some help?
Doug says to William as he sprints past him.
Thought, the teenager is a bully, this is still his first war and he is a little bit nervous, clearly not showing it to the world.

[aine]

John quickens his pace at the sound of the bombers. He draws near to the two men and reads the sign. He can hear the bombers drawing closer, "Come on, let me give you a hand." he says gruffly and puts out a hand to help steady the young man with the cane as they head towards the shelter. "We'd better hurry."