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Who: Maraich, Mr. Wendigo Survivor Extraordinaire, OPEN
What: Maraich enters a post-apocalyptic world
When: October?
Where: A world like "The Walking Dead" but isn't necessarily the same (I've only seen the games)
Warnings: Zombie survival world

Maraich didn't know where exactly he was. It was like a dream - he was convinced that it was for a while - before he woke up in an alleyway. When he opened his eyes he assumed he was still on his world somewhere. Maybe he'd been drugged and taken. Thankfully, he still had his clothes on. His fingertips brushed the necklace he was wearing, something that was supposed to be an 'artifact' but also felt surreal. It couldn't be real. This was just some messed up scheme to get at Bancoran, probably. First things first, he needed to figure out where he was.

He climbed to his feet and walked over to the entrance of the alleyway. It looked sort of like an American town, maybe, though that seemed rather far for someone to take him. He didn't recognize it. There was a cool chill in the air, enough that he could see his own breath. The stores on this street were small, and he could see a gas station down on the corner. The homes were modern enough, maybe a few decades old and showing some wear and tear.

Normally he would have sought out information quickly, but the entire place struck him as wrong. It wasn't the style of buildings that threw him off Many shop fronts had busted windows, plants were overgrown, and the most disturbing thing was that it didn't look like the cause was a city overrun by crime. He didn't see any people walking around, nor did he hear any hints of life. It was deathly silent and still. Something was seriously wrong and he put up his defenses immediately.

His heels clicked lightly and slowly on the cement as he ventured out. Stores appeared to be completely looted, homes were boarded up by broken into anyway. He spotted blood in certain spots, sometimes excessive amounts, but no bodies.

He spotted someone fumbling in the distance but he didn't call out. Just by watching its gait he could tell something wasn't right, and he wasn't about to trust anything he saw when the town was in this state. The shambling thing meandered around without any clear intentions, like there wasn't any thoughts to where it was going or why. Instinctively, his hand slipped to his hidden throwing knives and pulled them out. He didn't know what was going on but he sensed a very real threat.

Food. Water. Shelter. He organized what he needed immediately in his mind. Getting back to Ban would have to come after he survived and got out of here. Maybe he could make it to the next city and find some help. Without a word and ears and eyes open, he crept up to the nearest shop and scanned the inside through the large, shattered display window. The shelves seemed to be bare, but he did spot something that was missed. A vending machine was tucked in the corner, with drinks still inside of it. Sports drinks, water, tea. It was beaten but not open - someone obviously had tried and couldn't get into it. But that someone wasn't a professional like him.

Hopping over the window, he cautiously made his way towards the machine.

[OOC: Feel free to start a thread with your own prompt if you want! This is open for all, survival horror.]

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If Mike could be spirited away to another land, this definitely wouldn't have been it. A spooky lodge connecting to a sanitarium wasn't bad enough? The moment he woke up in this place, he knew something was wrong. It was too dusty and overgrown. He'd woken up against a building and immediately stood up and dusted himself off, emerging out into more of an open space.

"Shit ..." It only took a few steps to realize the silence and emptiness, to see the broken glass everywhere and pools of blood. Whatever happened, it was bad. And he wished really really badly that he'd had the sawed off shotgun he'd found. That then became his priority. Rather than food and water, he wanted to find a weapon. Otherwise he'd be screwed.

Most of the places had been completely picked clean, but there had to be something. He was almost desperately kicking glass aside and tossing empty boxes and useless items off shelves when he heard the sound of someone jumping. Whipping around, he looked around him trying to keep his breath from making too much noise. Look, his first instinct was to stand completely still thanks to certain other monsters he'd met recently.

Maraich had noticed some noise, keeping his knife at the ready in case some shambling thing came wandering out. He hadn't been as silent as he would have wanted because he had to step on glass, but at least his shoes were protecting his feet. The noise stop, though, and after a moment he headed to the vending machine. It could have just been stuff falling apart. If anyone, or anything, tried to sneak up behind him it would be caught by surprise. It was very difficult to catch him off guard.

Double glazed. He would need to strike it in the lower corner. Maraich stood from his squatting position by the vending machine as he examined it. This wasn't going to be a job for a knife but a hammer. Would there be a hammer in a convenience store? Probably not one on the shelves, but maybe behind the counter or back room... More likely it would be somewhere where they kept miscellaneous supplies, he'd just need to pick a lock to get to it.

Knife still in hand, he cautiously headed towards the other door in the store, assuming it must have been their storage, glancing down each aisle as he walked by. His steps might have been careful, but his shoes weren't made for sneaking, and someone listening closely might hear the very gentle tapping of his heels hitting the ground.

When he peeked around the corner of the aisle Mike was in he instantly pulled back, hiding behind the end. He knew someone was in the aisle, he'd gotten a decent look, but he didn't know if the guy was like that other thing he saw earlier.

For a little while longer, Mike just continued to stand absolutely still. But surely if it was a monster it would have shown itself by now. If he wasn't making noise or moving around anymore, then why would something like a wendigo have to hide. It didn't make sense.

In a way he was relieved that it probably meant those things weren't on the hunt for him at the moment. But someone, or something, was still in the shop with him. He still had no weapon. Had to change that until he knew what was there, even if it meant finding something temporary. So carefully he slid back slowly until he heard the back of his shoe bumped up against some broken glass. He quickly dropped down to pick up a large shard. Then he held it out in front of him.

"Alright, enough hide and seek!"

That sounded like a regular human voice. Male, no doubt, which is what he saw, too. Human, he could deal with. He stepped out into the aisle and faced him, hand held up with the knife tip in his fingers, ready to throw, as well as having a few other knives ready to be used at ammo.

Though he was small and petite, their was a certain confidence in his stance. He wasn't intimidated by Mike's size. His clothes were cute and feminine and, unlike his surroundings, he seemed pretty clean.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?!"

Mike was definitely human, so there was that, even if he did only have eight fingers. He didn't expect a monster to just come ambling out, but he wasn't sure he expected a petite looking dude with long fluffy hair either. He certainly didn't expect to be the one put under suspicion.

... Even though he was the one tearing through shelves, but they were almost empty anyway!

"The hell? I'm asking you that!" He looked a little lost, definitely not used to doing this kind of thing. That didn't mean he was just going to bend over and take any crap. Or let himself be strangely murdered by this little guy. This clean little guy. Mike'd probably be more cleaned up too if circumstances were different, so maybe this other person was as lost as he was.

Though he doesn't drop the shard of glass he's holding, he does pull it back and put up his hands as if to say he wasn't going to do anything funny. Not unless something funny was tried on him first. "You. You haven't been here long either right? I was looking for some kind of weapon. There's a lot of blood out there."

Somehow, when he stepped out and looked at the guy, he realized he wasn't from here, either. He didn't entirely lower his hand but he let it go a bit lax, not planning on throwing the knife.

"You're not from around here?" He paused. "You look like you belong here. Did something attack you?"

Mike looked like hell, with blood and a seriously messed up hand. He folded his arms and closed his stance, getting out of an aggressive mode. "There's a vending machine with drinks in here. I was going to find a hammer or something to smash it open. If we find something, you could always use it after we get the drinks."

Because Maraich already had weapons. He might need more in the future but he was good for now.

"Thanks," he muttered at being told he looked like he belonged. Not a lot of time to clean up before all the events that unfolded. Honestly that talisman thing or whatever ... he almost thought it was a joke at this point. Now he is kind of regretting the doubt. Because here he is. Thought this thing was supposed to take him to paradise or something.

"Yeah, you could say that," Mike looked a little exasperated, but not defeated. At least there was that. "A hammer, yeah. That'd work if there's nothing else. You see any guns or knives or anything?" Good thing he was pretty pro at using a weapon now (not really but he would think so).

"... you're not going to turn into some kind of weirdo on me right?"

He raised a brow. "You look way more like you're going to get weird on me than the other way around."

Of course, he had knives in his hand, but he quickly tucked them away. "I have knives but they're mine. You can have whatever we find." Even if it was a shotgun. His knives suited him just fine, he didn't have to worry about an upgrade yet.

But, with all that out of the way he didn't wait to head towards the door to the supply closet again. He guessed there would probably be cleaning supplies, and he just hoped there would be a few other tools, too. Luckily, he still had some hair pins in, and he just used those to pick the door with, which seemed to come all too easily to him. It wasn't exactly like breaking out of Alcatraz, the door popped right open as if it had been left that way, and he looked around in the closet-sized space.

He pulled out the mop and broom to get the out of the way. Dusters, sprays, tape... Nothing that looked strong enough to hit the vending machine with. Stepping back, his eyes scanned around the area for other ideas.

"There has to be a fire extinguisher around somewhere, right?"

Edited 2015-10-17 14:40 (UTC)

"Trust me, I'm good on weird for a while."

He wasn't really interested in knives anyway, unless they were really big knives. He hoped it was a gun or something though. The more ranged it was the better in his opinion. They didn't even know what these things were, but he didn't want to be unprepared when they did.

Watching the other guy (he thinks anyway) go back to the supply closet, Mike started to look for another like it that may have been overlooked or unable to be opened. He disappeared into the break room, kicking at debris and more useless garbage. There was another closet there which looked like it had been clawed at. With far less grace than his new pal, he kicked at it until it busted open. Another broom... some toilet cleaner and a toilet brush that smelled seriously rank ...

"Uhhh yeah I guess," he called out in reply, "By the front counter or back here somewhere." If it hadn't already been taken.

Maraich hopped over the counter and started pulling out drawers. Pliers, screwdriver... Nothing big, but he did pull out the screwdriver, leaning over the counter to look where the other man went.

"Hey," he called out, "Got something to start you off with."

He set it down on the counter and went back to searching. Not a great weapon, but a screwdriver to the head was better than nothing. He didn't appear to be a martial artist, so it was better not to leave him unarmed.

That's when he noticed a display with a long, metal bar holding it up. Not perfect, but it might do. He slipped out and started tearing apart the display to get the bar by itself. It was several feet long, a little awkward to hold but perhaps thin and firm enough to get some good ramming speed. It was just a matter of aiming it well so that it didn't bounce back. He took it back to the vending machine, carefully lining up the end with the bottom corner to hit it right.

With the closet open, Mike rifled through it to hopefully find something good. There's more cleaning supplies in there, the more dangerous kind ... maybe he can use a broomstick? That wouldn't last long. He tossed it aside. There were a lot of random supplies in the closet, but no weapons. A store like this one probably didn't even need any kind of weapon. What a waste.

"Oh yeah?" He popped back out of the room, hearing that the stranger might have found something. Picking up the screwdriver, he stuck it in a pocket. "That'll work for now." He was definitely prepared to ram it into something's head if he had to.

Then he followed over to the vending machine to watch the other work. Really Mike found it kind of surprising that someone hadn't broken it already. Maybe the situation wasn't quite that level of desperate, or they were in a hurry. "I'll take that bar too if you're not going to keep it." He had to start building up an arsenal of random items if all the guns and machetes in the world are now gone.

"There's some garbage bags in that other room if we need it to carry stuff."

"It's a bit awkward, but you can have it if you want."

He personally didn't prefer the way it was balanced, but they had a limited selection of weapons and he had no reason to keep him from taking it. Taking a precise jab, he banged it on the corner of the vending machine with a loud clang. The air between the panes of glass acted as a cushion, but it was less effective in the corner. It cracked slightly, though it was tougher than expected. Glass was certainly built sturdier than it used to be.

He gave it another swing and the first pane shattered. Webs worked their way up from the bottom corner as he struck again to take out the second pane. Pieces of glass fell to the floor in pieces. He set the bar to the side, grabbed a cloth and started pulling larger pieces away until he could get inside better. The entire process was pretty noisy, but he planned on leaving soon anyway. If they were stuck here for any amount of time they'd need a safe place to sleep, and this wasn't it.

But he didn't have much of a bag himself. His eyes scanned the area for a second before he grabbed some plastic baggies and started filling them with drinks.

"How many do you think you can carry?"

"Hey if it works it works."

Another thing events prior to now had taught him was that you just didn't want to be caught with nothing. Mike figured if he could handle machetes and guns and wendigos with no practice, he could handle an awkward bar. Of course, he was maybe overconfident.

The noise from breaking the glass on the machine made him feel a bit uneasy. Whatever was out there, they could probably hear it, and maybe they would come back to collect what they'd missed. Tough as he acted he wasn't ready for that. So while the other guy started moving away the glass and filling up a bag, he looked around them for any sign of something coming.

"Oh, uh, I don't know. Are we talking for the long haul or do you think we can find some place to hide it?"

"Both, I guess. There's a lot here to just be carrying it around, but maybe we can move it somewhere safe to get it later."

Leaving it there, someone else might walk by and take them. Or the building could become dangerous... He'd rather move them somewhere that they could go back to whenever they wanted, somewhere where nothing would happen to them.

"Maybe we could put the extras on the roof for now? No one would know they're there, and they should be safe."

He was pulling them out, intent on moving all of them, whether setting them down elsewhere or taking them along. With a pile in his arms he stepped out of the building, but that was where he found things had changed. The stumbling thing he'd seen before seemed to be headed in their direction. It was still a distance away, but when he glanced to the other side he saw another one fumbling out of an alleyway. They seemed slow, and neither were exceptionally close, but seeing that they were most definitely headed towards the store was creepy.

He glanced up at the roof of the store. It was only one story, not exceptionally tall. It wouldn't be too hard to find a way up, and they didn't look like they were much for climbing. For a second he forget about Mike and was about ready to do things on his own when he took a step back and glanced in the store.

"We've got... some things headed this way. They look slow, I think we can get this all out of here."

"Well whatever, I'll carry whatever you've got." Or whatever he was given. At this point he wasn't sure he cared. The roof though, that wasn't a bad idea as long as whatever was out there couldn't climb. At the same time, if they couldn't, and other people had found that out, who was to say they wouldn't steal the supplies?

If there was any people still out there ...

Mike shook off his thoughts and stuffed whatever was leftover in a thick black garbage bag. He smashed open the money box inside the machine too. There was obviously little use for money, but he always wanted to try that.

Anyway, by the time he joined his companion, it was plenty easy to see they were no longer alone. "Oh shit ... shit! What the hell are those?" Perhaps he sounded more stressed than he should, but altogether he was pretty traumatized and exhausted still. "Zombies?" You had to be kidding him. He was literally transported to a zombie flick. "Come on, let's go. And hope they stay slow."

He turned and started walking at a quick pace, although he paused for a few seconds to look back. "I'm Mike, by the way."

He hoped it wouldn't tire out Mike too fast carrying all of that stuff, but he wasn't about to stop him. He didn't hand over everything he had. He could handle carrying some, and he'd rather do that than weigh Mike down more.

"Maraich. Let's hurry and find a high spot that they can't navigate."

At least by their demeanor he doubted they'd be able to. They moved like they had forgotten how to walk, fumbling forward at a sluggish pace. It would be nice to go into a house, but who knew if going somewhere they could normally get to like that would be safe? They needed something higher, something that didn't have a way to get to it without effort or thought. An attic would work but could trap them. Roof was better, but left them open to the elements, and by the chill in the air he doubted it stayed warm at night.

They'd just have to look.

"Tell me if you have trouble keeping up," he said quickly before going into a full run. They needed to spot a good location, fast, and they wouldn't get it by waiting around. On the other hand, he had no intention of leaving Mike behind if he couldn't keep up the pace. If they had to, they would climb up whatever was available.

Maraich was seriously underestimating Mike if he thought carrying a bag of drinks was going to wear him out. And for now? He wasn't going to attempt to repeat that name. It was pretty weird. He'd at least remember it.

Maybe they should have grabbed more than just drinks and a makeshift weapon? But most everything had been looted in the place they just were. To find actual supplies, they may need to go a long, long way. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder briefly to look at the creatures dragging toward them. "Zombies ... they're zombies. Seriously?" At least he'd seen enough films to know what to do about them, but still. If it wasn't one fucking thing it was another.

Mike turned back forward and began to move, following in his own run, although he did raise an eyebrow in Maraich's direction. "You're joking me, right?" Maybe he wasn't the Jock like Matt was but he wasn't unfit either. "Just keep an eye out for a place before we have to start bashing brains in!"

"No offense but... You kind of already look like you've been here for a month."

He was just praying infections wouldn't become a problem. Thankfully, the things were slow, so at the moment they had a chance to find someplace and hide out. They just had to pick a spot that would last, and he didn't like the idea of staying anywhere in the cold.

"Think we could make it to a shopping area? There's usually some flat roofs, and we'd be close to a place where we could scavenge supplies."

Of course he doubted either of them knew the area, but if they just followed larger streets it was likely they'd find some stores soon. An home improvement store would be ideal, he figured, to start with. As they reached the end of the street, he turned to follow the path most likely to take them somewhere.

That didn't mean it would be easy. On the quiet streets lurked many more zombies, which had become quieted without any prey to follow.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, waving the comment off. He knew what he looked like without having to actually look. "That was wendigos, this is fucking zombies." Which was worse? Honestly, he didn't feel like comparing. The good thing about zombies was that you could kill them and not worry about them repossessing anybody. The bad thing about zombies was that they were creepy and ate your brains and were very messy.

Also somehow more unbelievable to him than the wendigos. Like only the movies should have to deal with zombies.

"No idea where the 'shopping area' is? But sounds as good as anything. Let's get going."

He jutted a thumb down one direction that looked pretty clear right now. It was true that any noise they made might rouse more of them. "You have any experience with these things? Like can they see very well or will standing completely still be pointless and stupid?"

"I just got here. Where I'm from, zombies are science fiction." In his mind he mentally wondered if that was true. He'd seen plenty of weird things, though zombies had never made the list. But that didn't mean they didn't exist somewhere...

"What's a wendigo supposed to be?"

Maraich wasn't an uninformed person, but he came from a time before internet in the average household and lived in mansions and major cities in Europe. Wendigo wasn't a term that had really popped up in his life.

He made sure to stay far away from objects as he walked. He didn't get near cars or anything else that could hide zombies, keeping the space around him clear and open. Though he did slow his pace. They couldn't run for hours, and they'd been too fast for the ones behind them. Now it was a matter of making it somewhere - and if they walked far enough they were bound to find a group of stores.

"That's what I thought." He'd thought that about wendigos too, and yet there they were, tearing up his girlfriend.

"It's a creepy, gangly thing that eats people too." Really, they had a fair amount in common with zombies, except that zombies had more of a medical? origin. Either way, Mike didn't want to think on it too long. Someone else could draw up the pie charts about them. "Super fast, but blind as shit."

Meanwhile, he had the urge to kick at cars or knock trashcans (the ones still standing) and crates over to see what was inside them. He refrained, but lamented the potential losses there.

Of course this was far from a perfect world, and even being quiet, they could run into some hungry zombies. They weren't in a dead-ended alley at least, but some of the lumbering creatures seemed to be up ahead of them. "Guess our friends have some back-up." Or there were different zombie turfs and this was just another zombie gang.

"They usually say to go for the head, right? Not sure what we'll do if that doesn't work, but..."

He frowned at the fumbling zombies. There weren't many, and he had some knives he could throw, but he didn't know if they would take them out and he didn't want to lose them. Honestly, he'd prefer to avoid them altogether, but they'd already been spotted and while the zombies were slow he didn't see a way he felt comfortable going around them. One might say to go through backyards, but who knew what else they'd run into in those confined spaces.

He paused to look around them with a frown.

"I wish there was a way to check, but I don't want to lose a knife in the back of a zombie head. If we had one pinned down it'd be no problem." He glanced up at his companion. "So what do you think? Should we risk fighting or make a run for it?"

There weren't many, but if their assumptions were wrong it could be trouble.

"It's gotta work." Why else would all the movies and games make it that way? Apparently lore for wendigos worked, so lore for zombies probably would too. Only one way to find out and Mike wasn't really one for running away ever. Sometimes it worked out really well and sometimes it was a terrible idea.

"Tough luck, we don't have any guns," he said to Maraich with a sort of sigh. Losing a knife wouldn't be good, but dying would be even worse. "Eventually we're going to have to take some of 'em on. So why not do it now?"

While he was still relatively in good shape. At least neither of them were falling over from exhaustion. He hoisted his bag of drinks up over a shoulder and then gripped his makeshift weapon in the other hand, swinging it a couple of times. "Let's do this."

He was a great fighter, but he usually knew what he was dealing with. He didn't like going into a fighter lacking info, but it seemed they would have no choice.

"All right." A knife practically appeared in hand as he flicked it out. "Let's go for the high ground. We can climb on one of the cars and get them straight in the head. And hope that that works, I guess."

If not. Well. They had legs. They'd have to make use of them.

He trotted over to a car and hopped up on the hood, running up and getting on the top. It wasn't an extremely large car but it did give him a height advantage, and he was light enough that the car didn't seem to mind too much. He stayed in the middle to keep some distance before the zombies would reach it, handle firmly gripped, ready to jab it in once he had a chance. It wasn't a lot of fun waiting for the slow, lumbering thing to make it over to him.

"Right.." Mike wasn't really the waiting type either, but he decided to go along with what Maraich was doing. Granted Maraich definitely looked like a lady, but apparently he knew what he was doing when it came to knives. He'd just see how this all went.

But with Maraich up on the car, he followed after. It briefly crossed his mind to go onto a different car, but it might be better to be close to each other if one zombie got particularly grabby or bitey. The vehicle rocked a bit more when he jumped on it as he was quite a bit bigger than Maraich. It creaked and he winced with the sound, but it wasn't like they weren't already coming. He decided to stay down on the hood level. Might have to jump up later.

"This is so fucked up," he muttered to himself, getting the crude rod he had ready. If they could get past this one bunch, they'd be able to run to some safety maybe. Even as the zombies got closer though, he was still and quiet, hoping that maybe they would be dumb like wendigos and keep walking past.

He wished he had a nice spear or something, but one wasn't going to suddenly appear. Luck wasn't on their side as the zombies headed towards them. Even their uneven, brainless movements were unnerving. Maraich was used to assassins and getting into well-thought out fights, so the movements of something that had absolutely no planning behind them were strangely difficult to take in.

On the other hand, they came straight for them. No sudden ducks, twists or turns. He took a step back as they got to the car. Arms up, it directly tried to reach and grab at his ankles, and even when he was on the other side of the roof it was too close for comfort. In an uncharacteristically simple reaction, he took a slight step forward and plunged the knife into the top of its head.

It seemed to have some sort of seizure, but that wasn't enough for him, so he stabbed several more times until undoubtedly the brain must have been scrambled and it slid down the side of the car. It wasn't the only one, but it was the one that was in a good enough position for him to do that.

He glanced over at the other teenager next to him as he backed off, now bloody knife in hand.

After a rough landing (namely eating asphalt between some buildings), Harry rose up and looked around. He straitened his duster, gripped his staff and made to move out into the street.

"Where the hell did that thing drop me," he asked as he moved into the street.

By this point Maraich had moved a bit. He was trying to find his way around, find good vantage points, avoid zombies... Mostly he wanted a safe place to sleep and resources to survive, because he was only human, he'd only be able to keep going for so long. He had found a little outside mall-like area with a variety of stores, but beyond that he hadn't gotten too far.

He was hoping to find some sort of home improvement store when he was walking down the street. For a second he ducked behind a bush, not sure if the man was another zombie, but it didn't take long for him movements to give him away. He didn't shamble around or act mindlessly like one.

Still, that didn't mean he was necessarily safe. Maraich kept a knife in hand as he carefully revealed himself at a distance. It occurred to him shouting wasn't a good idea, so he tried to get closer before talking.

"Who are you?"

Harry whipped around at the voice and raised his staff, pointing it at the source. His duster flapped around his hiking boots and reviled his clothes, blue jeans and an Black Sabbath t-shirt. Keeping the staff trained on the man before him, he looked him up and down.

“You look normal enough...” he eyed the man suspiciously. “But cant be to safe.”

Staff in hand, he pulled out a peace of chalk and knelt down. With a few quick movements while keeping the staff on his new acquaintance, he drew a quick Circle on the ground and pushed his will into it.

“Now, my name is Harry,” he said, never lowering his staff. “What's your's?”

So... This guy was weird. Maraich kept his distance, but not out of any particular fear of staves. He quirked a brow, letting him do what he wanted so long as he wasn't going on the offensive.

"Maraich. Are you crazy?"

He didn't see what good drawing with sidewalk chalk was going to do at the moment. It probably wouldn't be strange to find people who had lost their minds in this world, though this guy didn't seem like he belonged.

"Not crazy,just..... cautious," he said as he returned the staff to his side. "New place, maybe new rules. Magic still works but you never know."

Harry starts to look around while still in the circle.

"So, any idea where we are? Looks like big city America to me, what about you?"

"Magic?" he had doubt in his voice. Crazy guy. Best to keep his guard up around him, even if he didn't seem to be attacking.

"My guess is America, but I'm not from here. I live in London."

At least, it sort of looked American. He folded his arms. "Then where are you from?"

"First; yes, magic," Harry said. "I'm the only Wizard in the phone book."

Harry looks the Brit up and down then shrugs. He kicks the chalk circle apart and steps past the man.

"I'm from Chicago."

He steps out into the open street and looks around for something to tell where he is.

"So what are we dealing with in this world? Goblins? Facehuggers? Voorhees?"

He had some doubts about the abilities of chalk being able to stop him or anything else, but at least the guy seemed to be opening up.

"Zombies. Sound attracts them."

Though this street didn't seem to be particularly overrun. It was one of the reasons he came this way, hoping for quiet. "I was just looking for a outdoorsy store. I want to find something like a tent. Then we need to figure out a good way to get food."

Since he didn't seem bad, just like some sort of guy who played with magic the same way psychics were fake, he figured he would take responsibility for him. Maraich was an assassin, and better equipped to deal with zombies than the regular person - not that he was beyond human.

He pointed forward. "This is a quiet street, but we're going to run into trouble when we get into the more crowded areas, so stay close to me."

With that he took the lead, continuing the way he was going when he got there.

"Oh goody, zombies," Harry grumped. "Now all we need is a megalomaniac with a god complex and an undead dinosaur to ride, then I've been here before"

He let his sixth sence open, but he couldn't feel the dark energies floating in the air.

"Well, let's get our barings, then we can beat feet out of here."

Harry started off after his new British ally.

"So what else should I know about you," he asked quietly. "This way I know what we have to work with when it hits the fan."

"I'm good at fighting, and I make a killer omelet." He glanced back with a slight smirk. He was tired, but he hadn't been here long enough to lose his sense of humor. They just needed to find the way out and get moving, and survive until then.

"Do you have any idea how we find another portal or something? I haven't seen one."

As they reached the end of the street though he quieted. Here they were going to start really seeing the zombies. It wasn't exactly a flood of them, but there were some hobbling down the street in the distance. Just in case he put a finger to his lips to warn the other man to keep it down as he made his way towards a commercial area.

Harry lowered his voice as he trotted up beside Maraich.

"As for finding a portal, I can make one. The only thing is it will lead to this world's version of the Nevernever. Unless we find the exact place the tear in space-time is, we'll wind up in more hot water than here."

Keeping his head on a swivel, Harry started to think of where they were.

"I can try to find the tear if I had a mock-up of the city made with peaces of everything here, but that would take moths of work and magic that we don't have."

Harry pondered a few things when an idea came to his mind.

"I think I could find something, if I had something from another world that didn't belong to either of us or this world... but that would be a long shot."

"Nevernever?" It didn't mean much to him. For some reason he was actually pondering the man's idea, even though it seemed completely insane. It wasn't like it would make things worse to let him try whatever. But he shook his head.

"I only have what I was carrying on me when I came here, and stuff I've gathered from here." Nothing from another world, this was his first trip. "But, what if we found someone else. Would something of theirs work?"

He tiptoed as they got closer, working out a map in his mind of how to go around them and proceed. Would this guy be able to keep up...? He didn't particularly want to abandon him, so hopefully he wasn't a liability. It was especially unnerving as more zombies came into view, lazing about near buildings, having been left without any motivation to move because there was no prey around. They were going to have to find a way to go through several... They were slow, but it was still worrying to go between them when they would be closing in on them.

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