>>489885
get out of the kerosene first of course and wipe off your foot with it before removing the glass. Oh if possible keep a large shard of glass with you. never know when you might want to stab something.

You slide back out of the kerosene and try to wipe it off your jacket on the concrete floor.
Then you slide the glass out of your foot. You shift it a few times to estimate which direction you need to pull to pull it out of you. Each shift causes you to shiver as it sends a surge of pain through your foot. Eventually you slide it out with one pull. You clench your toes and the glass in your fingers as the pain is unbearable for a moment. White-hot pain, centered in the center of the sole of your foot, throbs through your foot. You feel cool air inside your foot.
The shard of glass feels small enough to fit comfortably in the palm of your hand. It would be useless as a tool
or weapon.
You can not see your foot, so you do not know how to estimate the rate of bleeding in your foot. All it does is feel extremely painful. Your foot throbs with pain.
You continue sliding toward the lights, trying to avoid sliding into the kerosene and sweeping away glass as you go.
As the lights come closer and closer you stop encountering kerosene and shards of glass in front of you. Your foot throbs with pain. As you come closer the lights are right above you before vanishing from view as you reach a concrete wall.

You must be under something, think you can stand up on your feet? Back up until the lights are visible once more. (careful that you don't stray back into the glass field) Then stand up carefully as you don't want to bump your head.

Start carefully moving along the side of the wall.

You back up, being careful not to stray back into the field of glass. The lights reappear, above you. You stand up, slowly and carefully. Your legs tremble as you rise. You nearly lose your balance, but you keep from falling. The lights are lower than they were, and are around your eye level now. You shiver as your foot throbs with pain.
You limp toward the lights, only able to put a little weight on the toes of your injured foot. Your foot throbs with pain with each step. The lights are very close when you feel the cold concrete wall, but they are farther away than the wall is.
You hear breathing.
You see a silhouette farther away, beyond behind the lights.

If the lights are at eye level behind the wall you are next to, than the wall has to be as short as eye level or lower. Get ready to climb, then stay still and quiet for a moment to see/hear if the lights, silhouette, or breathing move any.

Crawl forward over the wall. Get to the [spoilers][b] lights.

You stay very still and look and listen for any changes in what you are perceiving. The lights do not move. The breathing remains. The silhouette does not move. Your foot throbs in pain. You move to vault over what you suspect to be a low wall. Your hands clap against concrete. This is not a low scalable wall; you are looking through a hole in the wall. The silhouette reacts to the noise you make. It turns and you can then see the outline of
an axe in its hands. Your foot throbs with pain.
The axe-wielding silhouette stands very still for a moment and then steps away to the left, revealing a bright white light that blinds you. You instinctively shield your eyes. When your eyes adjust to the light, the silhouette and twin lights are gone from your vision. All is silent. Your foot throbs with pain.

what do you see around you?

You see what you are able to see. You see through the hole in the wall the bright light that had blinded you. It is like a spotlight shining right at you, but the source of light is small and must not be more than a few yards away. You can see nothing else through the hole but the source of light.
You move to the side, no longer looking through the hole, out of the way of the light and into the darkness. Your foot throbs in pain. You turn and see that the light through the hole casts a circle if light on a wall opposite from where you are standing and no more than a few yards away from you. In the center of the circle of light is a box protruding from the wall, a cable trailing from the box up the wall and out of the light. On the center of the box in the center if the light is an on/off switch; you see a light switch on the opposite wall revealed by the light through the hole.

Carefully (checking for more glass) move over to the switch and pull it. Wrap your jacket around your hand while doing so for insulation just in case.

You carefully lower yourself into the darkness and onto the concrete floor. The concrete is cold under the palms of your hands. You slide toward the opposite wall, sweeping glass out of your path as you go, your gaze fixed firmly on the switch in the center of the light shining on the opposite wall. You feel the puddle of kerosene on your jacket sleeve and you smell its stench even more acutely. You accidentally shift your foot so it bangs against the concrete floor, sending a surge of pain through your foot. You shiver in pain. You wait for the pain to subside enough for you to continue. You feel your way around the kerosene, and eventually you slide out of the field of glass. Your foot throbs with pain. You hear liquid splashing onto the floor to the east.
You reach the switch. You lift yourself up from the concrete floor as quickly as you can, leaning against the concrete wall for support. Your foot throbs in pain and liquid splatters against the ground. You pull your jacket sleeve up over your hand as insulation against electricity and yank on the switch. A loud lighting crack that you hear from overhead makes your ears twitch as the room is flooded in bright white light. You instinctively cover your eyes, momentarily blinded. Your foot throbs and liquid splatters. You regain your vision as your eyes adjust to the light. You see what you are able to see. You are in a square room with concrete walls, floor and ceiling. You stand at the center of the southern wall. Directly across from you, in the center of the northern wall, is a hole chipped through the wall with the approximate diameter of a basketball. A tiny puddle of blood is on the floor under the hole. Light shines through it from the other room. In the center of the room there is a wooden table, with an open toolbox filled with tools sitting on it. Tools are scattered across the table as well. There are no tools on the floor. The remains of a kerosene lamp lay scattered on the floor next to the table, a pool of kerosene in the center of the glass shards. Blood trails from where you currently stand through the glass to the floor under the northern hole and from there to a large, bloody shard of glass at the edge of the field of glass. To the north-east is an entrance in the wall to a stairwell that leads down into darkness. A tool bench is installed all along the west wall. Two wood tables are set up against the east wall, and top of each is packed with containers of various sizes and shapes marked as containing gasoline, propane, lighter fluid, and kerosene. Against the easternmost part of the south wall, directly to your right as you face the northern hole, is a table that stands between you and a young man. On top of the table, power tools and kerosene containers are stacked. To the south-east is an entrance in the wall which leads up some stairs into the woods.
The young man is wearing a red-and-black tartan shirt with blue jeans. His face is extremely youthful, wrinkle-free, and he has golden blond hair, and piercing blue eyes that never look away from you as he splashes kerosene out of a can and all over the floor with one hand while in the other he grips a woodcutting axe.
The lamps above you buzz. Your foot throbs. A cool breeze blows in from outside. Kerosene splatters onto the floor to the south-east.

Fffffffff okay. Kill the lights and head to the stairs. This is a bad situation.

If we had something to spark, we could turn the situation about no problem. The power tools maybe? The regular tools if you see a striker.(looks like a pair of tongs with a circle on the end) The guy no doubt knows this place better and has a weapon.

>>490813
we have Kerosene on us, bub.

adrenaline rush engage! turn off the lights, ignore the pain and RUN to the stairs leading to the woods, into the woods. don't stop until you're sure you're safe.

>>490866
On the sleeve of our jacket. We can take it off pretty easily. To the southeast is the table, the man, and the stairs to the woods. If we run, our only choice is further into the building.

You see a stick lighter sticking out among the pile of power tools on the table between you and the young man. You rub your jacket sleeve against the concrete wall, to wipe off the kerosene, while you snatch the stick lighter from the pile and brandish it at the man. His bright blue eyes stare deeply into your eyes for a moment. The young man has emptied out all of the kerosene and tosses the empty can to the floor. It clatters hollow on the concrete and kicks up a splash of kerosene. In what seems like less than a second the young man slips a matchbox out of his shirt pocket, flicks it open and strikes a match all in a single motion. He takes a step around the table toward you.

>no, i'm burning you.

The image of the young man's piercing blue eyes staring directly into your own eyes as a tall, thin spike of flame erupts beside his cheek is seared into your retina when you kill the lights and darkness swallows up you and all you see. Your heart beats in your chest as you hardly feel pain in your injured foot even as you run around the table and the lamp remains in the center of the room. You manage to avoid running into anything by having memorized the layout of the room in the light. You feel the north wall and follow it east to the entrance to the stairwell. The center of the room erupts in flame as the kerosene from the broken lamp is ignited, bathing the concrete walls in wildly fluctuating, moody firelight. There is enough light for you to see the young man as he regains sight of you and resumes staring directly into your eyes. The firelight casts shadows on his face that black out his eyes and nose and parts of his face so that it resembles a skull. He steps toward you, glass crunching under his boots. You leap down the stairs into darkness, jumping down two steps at a time, even though you can't even see them. You stumble and almost fall, but you manage to brace yourself against the wall, as there is no railing in this stairwell. You reach what must be the level floor of the room below.

You slip on liquid and fall forward, onto your arms and knees. Pain buzzes through your arms and knees. Pain surges through your foot. Flame roars upstairs. Your arms and knees are soaking wet; they are in a pool of liquid. The stench of kerosene is ungodly strong invading your nostrils.

>>491138
why would you go downstairs!? now you are trapped!
you should have gone outside to the woods.

well, follow the wall and look for a door or something

You could not have gone to the woods. The young man stood in the way of the stairway to the woods so you had to go to the descending stairway. And now a silhouette framed by fire behind it stands at the top of the stairway, and descends down toward you. The silhouette strikes a match, revealing the face of the young man, shadows cast on his face to make it resemble a skull. You lift yourself up out of the kerosene and feel a concrete wall immediately to the west of where you landed a the foot of the stairs. You feel your way along the wall for about a second when you stumble on something, stubbing your toe and setting off a tumbling chain reaction of empty containers clattering and liquid splattering along the floor. The stench of kerosene pervades your senses. The pool of kerosene that you fell in at the foot of the stairs erupts into a short pillar of roaring fire. The walls are bathed in wildly flickering firelight. You stand against the west wall, with a few kerosene cans and a puddle of kerosene scattered on the floor at your feet. In the center of the north wall is a large metal door chained shut with a rusty chain, and next to it a light switch. Workbenches and a gun wall are installed along the east wall; the benches are piled with hunting equipment. Kerosene containers litter the floor along the south wall. Pools of kerosene are spread all across the floor. Soaking in a pool of kerosene in the center of the room, there is a mass. The young man stays standing in the stairwell; he cannot get around the burning pool of kerosene and into the room. He stares straight into your eyes as he strikes another match.
Your heart beats in your chest. The lamps above you buzz. The fire spits and roars. You may choose to examine, move, use, etc.

First priority is to grab the gun, then grab a skinning knife or other non-ammo-dependent weapon. Then point the gun at match guy and ask him what is up with all the murder attempts.

>>491463
Examine mass. Guns are probably not loaded. (also, it would be too easy.) Try to get a knife though.

Also, throw one or more containers of kerosine at, or past the doorway fire. Move after throwing, in case flame comes to you. (leaking can)

You pick up a kerosene can and fling it at the fire as you run around the mass and to the east wall. The fire continues burning as it did; that particular can was empty. You step in puddles as you run, splashing kerosene all over your feet and lower pants. The young man's bright blue eyes follow you across the room as he flicks a lit match onto the pile of containers and puddle of kerosene you were just standing in at the west wall, and the stuff erupts into fire. You pull a gun down from the wall; a hunting rifle; and point it at the young man. He strikes another match while staring directly into your eyes. You want to say something.

You can say nothing.

You try to shape sounds with your mouth, but you are unable to produce the vibrations in your throat needed to speak words. The young man tilts his head to the side and smiles at you. You squeeze the trigger, and nothing happens. The young man flicks a match into a puddle by the south wall, but it does not ignite; the flame was snuffed out in midair. You drop the rifle, and it clatters in a puddle of kerosene. You examine the contents on top of the workbenches. There are two disarmed bear traps that appear to still function; there are many wrenches, screwdrivers and other tools, but they are very tiny, used for precision work, and are unsuitable as weapons; there are many tiny bolts and screws; there is a long tool case, and through the window into the case you see it houses a collection of knives and a tomahawk. You pick up the case. It is locked and is too tough to be opened with your bare hands. You examine the mass.
Lying in the center of the room in a pool of kerosene, the husk seems to twitch and writhe in the flickering firelight. It wears; or maybe it doesn't wear but have draped over its remains a black leather jacket that is lined with wool and looks extremely comfortable. The husk's jeans are stained with kerosene. Its hands and feet are uncovered. Its head; or maybe what's left of its cranium has been split asunder down the middle as though by an axe, thick black kerosene leaking from the wound. Its eyes; or maybe the sockets where its eyes once were are black pits that leak kerosene. Thick black kerosene leaks from cuts and bruises all over the husk.
Your heart beats in your chest. The fires spit and roar. The husk seems to twitch and writhe in the flickering firelight. You may examine, move, use, etc.

Can you use one of the wrenches to break off the lock on the case, or is it too tiny?

Also, oh fuck.

How small is the lock on the case? If it's tiny, try bashing it against the table in desperation.

Use axe on case?

Grab that rifle again as soon as possible. A rifle is a gun, but it is also a reasonably effective bludgeon, unlike everything else in the room. Modern armies actually train in the use of rifles as such.
After that, check the non-burning kerosene cans by weight for full ones. If you find one, pick it up and throw it as hard as you can towards the stairs.

There is no axe. The only things on the workbench are: two currently disarmed but functional bear traps; millimeter wrenches, precision screwdrivers and other tiny tools, unsuitable as weapons; and many tiny bolts and screws.
The case is secured with a heavy-duty titanium padlock. The tiny millimeter wrenches would be useless against it; and it may be just your luck that the screwdrivers are very small, but not small enough to fit into the padlock's keyhole, so you could not even try to pick it. You bash the lock against the table, which proves useless. You pick the rifle back up, which is now soaked in kerosene, and bash the lock with the butt of the gun, which proves useless.
You go to grab a can of kerosene; the only available ones are littered along the south wall, and you are at the east wall. You take a step toward the south wall. The young man flicks a lit match into a puddle of kerosene at the south wall, which erupts into flames and blocks your way. You recoil and hold up your arm to shield your face from the blast of heat.

A can of kerosene caught in the fire explodes. Your whole body jumps, you feel the boom of the explosion grip your heart in your chest, and the roar of the fires is overtaken in your hearing by a constant high-pitched tone. The room is showered with bits of of the container, still flaming as they fly across the room. The husk in the center of the room catches fire, and seems to writhe and convulse even more violently than in it did in just the firelight.
Now the only accessible parts of the room are the north and east walls. On the north wall is a light switch, and next to that a metal door shut with a rusted chain. Workbenches and a gun wall are installed along the east wall. The only things on the workbench are: two currently disarmed but functional bear traps; millimeter wrenches, precision screwdrivers and other tiny tools, unsuitable as weapons; and many tiny bolts and screws.
Your heart beats in your chest. The southwest half of the room is engulfed in roaring fire. Black smoke begins to gather on the ceiling. The husk seems to writhe and convulse as it burns. The flickering firelight thrashes about on the walls. You carry a kerosene-soaked rifle in one hand. In the other you carry a case housing knives and a tomahawk, secured with a heavy-duty padlock that may be even more resilient than the hard plastic case it is keeping shut. You may examine, move, use, etc.

(The gun still mounted on the bench was a typo, right?)
Look at how damaged the rusting chains are. If they look majorly rust damaged, try to use the gun barrel like a crowbar to open them. If not, arm a bear trap and throw it at Matchman.

>>491701
If you can get through the door, leave a bear trap right around the corner of the entrance, where he won't be able to see it if he chases you.

Maybe it should have been specified that the gun wall is a board hanging on the wall and that the rifle was itself hanging on the gun wall. You took the gun off of the gun wall, and now there is no gun hanging from the gun wall, but the gun wall is itself still hanging on the wall.

You drop the case of knives to grab a bear trap and drag it with you as you stumble over to the metal door, your entire body turning damp with sweat as your chest feels extremely stuffy inside your thick wool-lined jacket. Your heart beats furiously in your chest. You try to shield your eyes from the heat waves that radiate from the fires. You reach the door at the north wall, and the entire east wall, floor and workbench and all, ignites and erupts into a raging blaze. The roaring of the fires is deafening.
You can see only fire to the west. You can see only fire to the east. You see fire to the south. Squinting, over the fire to the south, you see the young man, his image warped constantly shifting for the heat rising up from the fire. His bright blue eyes stare directly into your eyes, and seem to be free of distortion. You drop the bear trap to the floor and grasp the rifle with both hands. You jam the barrel of the rifle into the chain and push, using the rifle as a form of leverage; the chains seem rusted and weak enough that this should work. You push and shove the butt of the rifle and begin to feel light headed as your entire body is drenched with sweat
and kerosene.
Your heart beats furiously in your chest. Your whole body feels hot as hell. You start to cough as the smoke billowing above you begins to reach your head-level. You push and push against the rifle, but the chain does not break. You glance back. The fire, at least, cannot reach you; there is no kerosene on the floor at the north wall door and the fire is too far to light your kerosene-soaked clothes. If the smoke vents from the room through the southwest stairway, you may not even need to worry about dying from that.
A match lands inches away from your kerosene-soaked foot. You look up and see, through the fire and smoke, the young man strike another match while he stares into your eyes and smiles. You scramble to jam the rifle barrel back into the chain. You jam it in at a different angle this time, and the chain snaps beautifully with a single push, falling to the concrete floor with a metallic twinkle. It seems all the chain needed was to be forced from a different angle. You turn the metal doorknob; it turns. Your heart beats furiously in your chest as the heat leaves you light-headed. You push against the door;
It does not budge.
You push again. It does not yield. Another match lands next to your feet. You are going to die here, your flesh and muscle burned off your bones and your carcass rot smoldering black kerosene leaking from your eyes.
The young man beams at you, his voice cheerful and perfectly audible over the deafening roar of the fire.

> last words?

Your back against the door, you slide down the door and onto your ass. Your jacket catches against the door hinges.

>You push against the door
>You push again.
>Your jacket catches against the door hinges.
The door opens outwards :/
(I will be a bit pissed if we die from something that silly.)

Better pull that door open. If you have the heart for it, say, "I don't die this day."

The hinges are on this side of the door, and you didn't try pulling it. Maybe you overreacted. If your heart weren't beating as furiously as it is in your chest, you would feel a little more embarrassed. You snatch the bear trap and rifle, leap to your feet, and grip the doorknob as though it were a life preserver tossed to you in a storm in the center of the ocean, thunderclouds swarming overhead like the black smoke gathering in the air above your head. You glance back behind you, to the south, over the sea of flames and through the sweat gathering on your brow.
The young man's whole face is consumed with mirth, he tilts his chin up and his lips form a big merry smile as he squints his eyes at you. He flicks another match that misses you by inches.

>you die today!

You want to respond. You want to say that you don't die this day. But, you can't. You can say nothing; you can speak no words. You just turn the knob and pull.
The door yields, and a rush of cool air blasts the front of your body, contrasting with the heat roasting your backside. Before you outside lays a long clearing in the woods, and beyond that, downhill to the north, you see the bright lights from a town through dense woods. You look back at the young man; you may not be able to say anything, but maybe the image of you standing in the open doorway, a cool breeze blowing in and disrupting the fires' burning, says what you were trying to say anyway. You gaze directly into the young man's bright blue eyes, which seem to bulge from their sockets. His smile is gone. He has a deep frown. His brow is furrowed deep in anger. He looks fucking pissed. He looses a shriek of fury and stomps back up the stairway. You hurry outside.
You are standing in the southern end of the clearing, just outside of the doorway into what looks like a concrete bunker built into the side of a hill to the south. To the west and east, and beyond the bunker and hill to the south, are dense woods. To the north is a declining slope leading into woods, and beyond that, a suburban shopping center. The grass in this clearing is tall, reaching to your ankles; it would be easy to step on a rock or something without even seeing it. Just big enough to stick out of the grass is a small mass in the center of the clearing.
Your heart beats in your chest. Choruses of chirping and croaking reach you from every angle except from the south, from which emanates the dull roaring of fire. The air is extreme cold, but you are thankful for it after the intense heat of the fire, and you still have your extremely comfortable wool-lined jacket. The sun has nearly vanished under the tree line to the west, so there is still some light. The sound of a heavy metal door slam echoes from the south, up the hill. You have in your possession a rifle and a bear trap. You may examine, move, use, etc.

Okay. Go to the grass, look out for bear traps, and lay one of your own. Check out the mass. Our goal should be to get to the city. We move fast and quiet. Keep the rifle for now as a potential bludgeoning weapon.

Cycle the action on the rifle, small chance it may be loaded but with no rounds chambered

About how far away does the shopping mall look? If it is more than a few minutes away we might want to consider trying to set up an ambush or sneak back for more weapons instead of trying to outrun him through terrain he knows but we don't.

Whichever way we go, the rifle can also be useful for prodding thick foliage for bear traps before walking through it.

Get awayyy from the top of the hill where you heard the guy slamming the door, check for traps with the rifle

You pull back on the rifle's charging handle to check for loaded bullets, but you can see the grass when you look down through the gun's empty chamber; there are no bullets.
You look out at the clearing, the grass tall enough to conceal any number of things: rocks, branches, animals, holes,
bear traps.
You look beyond to the woodland downhill and beyond that to the shopping center. You estimate that it could take a twenty minute trek trough the woods to reach the shopping center, but you are not confident in your ability to estimate distance. You try to examine the mass in the center of the field, but obscured as it is by grass and distance, you cannot see what it is. It sits directly on the path to the shopping center, though, so you must get close enough to examine it.
You approach the mass laying in the center of the clearing, going as quickly as you can while still being careful of stepping into traps, sweeping the butt of your rifle through the tall grass in front of you as you go, checking for hidden traps. Your heart beats in your chest, adrenaline still pumping through your body, and you nearly flinch and feel your heart thump extra hard each time the rifle catches on something, which turns out to be just a branch or even just the ground.
Halfway between the southern hill and the mass, you come close enough to the mass that you are able to see what it is: a burlap sack. It seems like something is stuffed inside. it is unmoving. You drop to one knee and hurriedly set up the bear trap; a simple process that requires you only wrench the to massive metal jaws apart, and lay it down. The grass hides the trap very well; if you hadn't been the one to set it, you would not know that it is there.
You glance over your shoulder to the south and see a figure appearing in the distance to stand atop the hill, framed by the twilit sky. The figure raises an axe high over its head and starts coming down the hill.
Your heart beats in your chest as you turn back around and continue toward the burlap sack in the center of the field, going as quickly as you can while still checking for traps ahead of you with the rifle. The sack remains unmoving. You have not encountered any traps by the time you have come within a yard of the sack, which remains unmoving. Your heart beats in your chest. You set off a trap with the rifle, and the gun is wrenched effortlessly from your fingers by the massive, jagged metal jaws which jump up out of the grass and chomp together so powerfully that the rifle is warped and splintered. You fall on your ass in surprise. A second bear trap leaps up out from the grass, with a bone-splintering metal chomp in the air right next to the first trap. Your whole body flinches from both chomps that miss you. The sound of the clashing of the metal jaws persists in your ears. Your heart thrashes in your chest. You look back over your shoulder to the south; the young man is staring with his bright blue eyes directly into your eyes. He no longer looks pissed. He smiles at you. He calls out from the base of the southern hill, the entrance to the concrete bunker behind him. He wields a large woodcutting axe. The concern is evident in his voice.

>hey, hope you're alright?

Your heart beats in your chest. Choruses of chirping and croaking reach you from every angle. The dull roaring of fire emanates from the south; flickering firelight emanates from the open door of the bunker built into the side if the hill. The air is extremely cold, but you have your extremely comfortable wool-lined jacket. The sun has nearly vanished under the tree line to the west, so there is still some light. The young man approaches you from the south with the axe in his hands. The bear trap you laid is directly in his path; if he continues approaching as he is, he will likely trigger it. The rifle is stuck, warped and splintered in one of the two triggered traps directly in front of you. Something is inside the burlap sack; it is writhing toward you. You may examine, move, use, etc.

Open up the sack. Examine what's inside. Take anything useful out. Proceed directly away from the man, so that if he follows you, his path still crosses over the bear trap. Be wary of more traps yourself.

Try to find the trap's release mechanism to get the rifle back. Keep trying (or pretending to try) if retrieving the rifle is impossible (or you actually get it) until Matchman reaches the trap; this is as much a method of luring Matchman towards us as an attempt to get our rifle back. (Giving Matchman an apparent opportunity will make him less suspicious, and having a good excuse to stay still keeps us from running into any traps on the other side of the the bag.)

>Something is inside the burlap sack; it is writhing toward you.
Observe how the sack moves before trying to open it. It might be another victim, but I find it more likely the bag is full of snakes and BEES! or something. If doesn't look like a human in there (and if the bag is small enough), throw the bag at Matchman when he triggers or passes the trap.

You examine the way the burlap sack writhes. It does not seem that any person is trapped inside; the way the sack moves is distinctly inhuman. It is as though hundreds of things are thrashing around inside the sack. It is as though hundred of things are struggling to get at you, and the sack is writhing, tumbling slowly toward you.
Your heart beats in your chest as you shakily drop to a knee and work to release the rifle from the trap. You glance behind you to see Matchman's bright blue eyes staring directly into your eyes. He is approaching from the base of the southern hill, gripping a woodcutting axe in his hands. He opens and closes his fingers over the handle, as though savoring its feel. He is walking in a straight line toward you, and the bear trap you places is hidden in the grass directly in his path.
You set your sight back onto the trap the rifle is stuck in. Your heart beats in your chest, and your hands shake. The sack writhes toward you, but it is moving slowly; there is plenty of time before it would close the distance between you and it. You lift up the bear trap and turn it over and around, your hands shaking; you are examining it for a release mechanism and also wasting time looking busy, to deceive Matchman. You turn the trap over and around. You glance south behind yourself, and Matchman's bright blue eyes are staring directly into your eyes as he approaches. He has a concerned smile on his face. He has stopped approaching and is standing halfway between you and the southern hill; you are not certain, but you estimate that his very next step will trigger the hidden bear trap you set.

>hey man, hope you're alright? why are you sticking around there? You didn't get caught i hope?

He is not moving; he is just standing there. He has not looked down; if he looks down, will he be able to see the trap? He might.
You turn back to the trap you are working on and press on the first mechanism you see. Your heart beats in your chest and your hands shake as the jaws go slack and gravity pulls them open, and the splintered rifle drops into the grass. You pick it up. It looks damaged beyond use as a firearm if you had ammunition, and it looks as though it would break clean in two if you used it as a bludgeon, but it is in one piece.

>oh, you were getting that thing, okay, I thought--

Your ears twitch at the sound of jagged metal grinding flesh and bone with a wet chomp. You turn back around and Matchman stares directly into your eyes as he slowly, awkwardly lowers himself to one knee, his other caught and mangled in a bear trap; among the blue of torn jean and the pink and red of ground meat, you think you see a hint of white. His bangs get in his face as his body jerks and lowers, but he never takes his eyes off of you. He drops the axe in the grass and in what seems almost like a single, smooth motion pulls a matchbook from his shirt pocket and strikes a match. You realize your clothes are still stained with kerosene from the hill bunker.
The writhing sack is large, but small enough to lift up and throw. You step over the two triggered traps and pick up the sack. The sack seems to thrash more violently in your grasp than it did on the ground, as though it is reacting to you lifting it up. Your beats in your chest, and you feel the kerosene on you, as though reacting to the proximity of the thrashing, writhing burlap sack. You heave the sack at Matchman, and you can no longer feel the kerosene that is all over you.
The last image you see of the young man is of him smiling at you, before the sack hits him. And it bursts open, and from it emerges some thing; or perhaps it is many things. It or they look as though it is one big thing yet also many separate small things, all at once, and it looks like it is made entirely of meat yet also made entirely of kerosene, all at once, and they are the color of pitch black[/b].

He is entirely enveloped, swallowed up.

Your heart beats in your chest. Your whole body shivers. Choruses of chirping and croaking reach you from every angle. The dull roaring of fire emanates from the south; flickering firelight emanates from the open door of the bunker built into the side if the hill. The air is extremely cold, but you have your extremely comfortable wool-lined jacket. The sun peaks through the trees in the woods to the west. You stand in the center of the clearing, two unarmed bear traps right in front of you to the north, no longer hidden by the tall grass. To the south, halfway between you and the hill bunker, is a [spoiler] writhing mass. You are holding a damaged rifle. You may examine, move, use, etc.

Time to go. Head towards the city and continue to use the mangled rifle to check for traps until you exit the clearing. Be sure to glance back at the matchman occasionally just in case something changes.

That may have been a mistake. He might be coming back even worse now. Anyway, continue moving towards the city. Look out for more traps, and keep an awareness of what's going on all around you, especially in front and behind. Once we're out of tall grass, get to running at a comfortable jog that you can maintain.

Well that isn't good. We came to that bag prepared to use a snake, but instead we found A GOD?! a demon.
The 'made entirely of kerosene' bit sounds like it is the cause of whatever happened to the corpse in the basement. (If that is the case we should remember that the husk seemed immobilized by having its head chopped in and damaged but energized by burning.) I am tempted to run at him, grab the axe he dropped, and chop him up before he finishes transforming, but I guess that would be too risky.

Anyway, Lets go towards the closest edge of the woods and forwards from there instead of going straight through the clearing towards our destination. The woods are harder to hide traps in than the tall grass.

Run along the path you traversed earlier to go back to the man, grab his axe, then follow my post here:

>>495052

You approach the writhing mass of meat aiming to claim the axe the young man left behind. Your heart beats in your chest as you backtrack along your original straight path through the tall grass, taking longer, quicker strides going back than you did coming forward, having confirmed the absence of traps along this particular path. You approach the thick black mass of kerosene thrashing, sitting halfway between the center of the clearing and the base of the southern hill. The fire burns still in the bunker; you can see the flames flickering in the doorway you escaped into this clearing through, and black smoke billows up out from through the frame and is hardly visible against the dimming twilit sky as it disperses and floats up high in the air.
Your limbs trembles and your heart beats in your chest as you reach out for the axe; you are still a yard away, but still you reach, in anticipation of owning it, as though you already own it; you take a step toward. And then you take another step toward, almost automatically, as though you are not in control. As though entranced; and reaching out for the axe. But you stop midst ride, sensing something amiss, the kerosene that stains your clothes feeling very warm, when hundreds of little amorphous chunks of meat, as though one entity form a long arm and lunge at you, nearly touching your outstretched hand, which you jerk back, along with your whole body as your heart leaps in your chest and your whole body jumps back. Your kerosene stained clothes grew in warmth as the kerosene limb swung past, and now cool down a little as the meat retreats back to the spot where Matchman was caught in your trap, as though it is rooted. The writhing mass of kerosene reaches out to and picks up the axe and pulls the axe back into itself, it slowly absorbs the axe into itself, and as it sinks into the hundreds of black tumors the axe warps and mutates; it is almost as though the inanimate object suffered.
There is nothing for you here; you turn and run due north,in direction of the distance lights of a suburban shopping center, heart beating, body and limbs trembling, and after leaping over the pair of bear traps you triggered, you continue as quickly as you can while still sweeping your mangled rifle through the tall grass in your way, sifting for traps.
Two yards, due north from the two triggered bear traps, your rifle is caught and snatched from your fingers by another bear trap. You jump only a little; this trap is not as surprising after you experienced the first two traps.
Your heart beats in your chest. Your whole body shivers. Choruses of chirping and croaking reach you from every angle. The dull roaring of fire emanates from the south; flickering firelight emanates from the open door of the bunker built into the side if the hill. The air is extremely cold, but you have your extremely comfortable wool-lined jacket. The sun peaks through the trees in the woods to the west. You stand in the middle of the clearing; two triggered bear traps, no longer hidden by the tall grass, are sitting one yard south from where the burlap sack once sat writhing, and one yard north of where the burlap sat writhing, there is a triggered bear trap right in front of you. The rifle clenched in its jaws appears mutilated beyond use. You have nothing to sweep through the tall grass with for traps in your way to the city. Your foot itches; should you scratch it? To the south, halfway between you and the hill bunker, is a writhing mass. It appears to be mutating into the shape of a man. With an axe. You may examine, move, use, etc.

Do you think you can use a trap to find traps?
>turns out to be just a branch
Are these big enough to use? If so, grab all that you can; they'll be one use only. Look at your foot. Do you see anything weird on it? No scratch yet.

Fuckin' fuck. Look at your foot, could be something gnarly on it. Take of your jacket and swat it back and forth at the grass in front of you. If hit snags on something or hits something, you'll know there's a bear trap there to avoid.

Alas poor rifle, you have served us far more valiantly than many a loaded weapon.

Using the trap might work if it is large enough. We should take the trap in any case if we can carry it.

Yeah, pick up the trap and continue on with it, or one of the others if the rifle stuck in the jaws is too awkward.