The flight into Denver International had been fine, but your connection to Las Vegas had been heavily overbooked.  Enough so to bump you and a good number of disgruntled passengers onto a loud, bumpy, 39 seat turboprop.  The airline assured you your checked luggage made it onto the original flight.  It would be waiting for you upon arrival.  You’d believe it when you saw it.

It also wasn’t encouraging to hear through the open door of the flight deck that theirs was the last flight out of DIA before it shut down operations in the face of an escalating winter storm front.  Though nearly packed to capacity, passengers were subdued and quiet as the prop engines droned loudly through the cabin.  This wasn’t the smooth ride you’d have from one of the larger jets.  It didn’t even have a flight attendant for the short two hour hop over the Rocky Mountains.  Just a water bottle and a pack of pretzels handed out at the gate.

The only entertainment was the technical banter you could hear from the open cockpit door as the pilots conducted the routine flight from DIA to LAS.  It was either that or the in flight magazine.  Your copy seemed to be two years out of date.

"Could you make sure the deicers are on?"
"Deicers are in the… on position."

"Visibility, poor.  Let’s take it up five thousand and see what it’s like."
"Up five thousand, check.  Seems the same."

"Controls a little stiff today, must be the cold."
"Hydraulics will warm up in a bit."

"Can you see the flaps on your side?"
"Negative, no visual.  Too much snow."

"Feels like the flaps are still extended.  I’m getting some drag."
"Controls show flaps in.  Think we’re getting some ice buildup?

"Toggle the deicers just to make sure."
"Deicers off.  Deicers on.  Check."

"Better throttle up a little for this headwind."
"Throttling up."

You could definitely hear the engine drone get louder in response.  The flight was also getting a little rougher.

"Check with DIA and see what the forecast is.  See if there’s a ceiling to this thing."
"DIA, this is flight 429 from Denver to Las Vegas requesting a weather update on our course."
…
"DIA, this is flight 429 from Denver to Las Vegas requesting a weather update on our current route, please."

"Nothing?"
"No response."

"Try the other end."
"Las Vegas, this is flight 429 from Denver to Las Vegas requesting a weather update, please."
…

"Let’s try swinging a little further south.  Keep an eye on the ACAS."
"Roger, ACAS all green."

"Our altitude good?"
"We’re well clear."

"Air speed’s down.  Think it’s the headwind?"
"Wouldn’t be surprised.  Want me to throttle up?"

"Go ahead, bring up the throttle a little more, see if we can get back up to speed."
"Roger, throttling up."

Once again, the cabin drone increased.  This time, an unsettling vibration accompanied the louder drone.

"No change in air speed.  Guess we’re stuck with it."
"Current flight time is fifty minutes.  Almost halfway there."

"Check your yoke, see how it feels to you."
"That is really stiff.  Think we’re putting on some ice?"
"Sure feels like it."
"Still no visibility on my side."

"Try the tower again, send an update with our location."
"Roger.  This is flight 429, Denver to Las Vegas, to all stations.  We are experiencing possible flight control issues due to ice.  Our current location is…" He rattled off a series of coordinates accompanied by bearing and air speed.  "Any station, please respond."
…

"We’re losing altitude now.  Throttle to full."
"Throttle up to full."

The drone in the cabin peaked and the vibration became a significant rattle.  Turbulence also increased.  You were glad their hadn’t been an in flight meal.

"Folks," came the pilot’s voice, now over the cabin speakers, "we seem to be having some issues with the weather.  I don’t want to alarm anyone, but we may have to make an emergency landing.  Please make sure your seat belts are on, seats and trays in the upright position.  If we are forced to make a landing, assume the brace position.  Lean as far forward as you can with your hands behind your head and feet tucked up under the seat beneath you.  Try this now.

"In the case it’s necessary, I’ll say brace, brace, brace, before we try to land.

"Also, if anyone has a cell signal, please try to dial 911 and let us know if you get through."

Those practicing the brace position straightened up to discover that no one had any cell signal.  Some people seemed to be recording messages, text or audio, onto their phones instead.  Some were crying, but luckily, no hysterics.  Although, it would have been hard to hear anyone shouting over the drone of the engines, now at full power.

"You better send out another location, we’re losing too much altitude."
"This is flight 429, Denver to Las Vegas, to all stations.  We are experiencing severe icing and losing altitude.  Our current location…"

The copilot paused, hearing some odd thudding noise as if someone were rapping on the fuselage from the outside.  Recognizing it first, the pilot shouted without the aid of the intercom, "BRACE! BRACE! BR…" The plane jerked suddenly sideways as the right wing was torn from the fuselage.  The plane spun as a frigid wind whipped through the jagged hole and snow swept around the screaming passengers.  You could hear the copilot shouting, "MAYDAY! MAYDAY!"  He got out two iterations before a second impact separated the tail section from the remaining wing and forward compartment.  Passenger luggage and debris from the overhead compartments rocketed about what remained of the cabin before being expelled from the open end of what remained of the aircraft.  The nearest row of seats, along with their securely belted passengers, went after their luggage.

Struggling to hold your brace position, the tail section with you and a handful of passenger rows tumbled and rolled violently.  After what seemed it would never end, the tail section of the passenger compartment slid to a stop, packing the now open end of the compartment with snow and broken pine branches.  The section lay on it’s side, gravity now pulled you sideways in your seat.

It was quiet now.  The only sound, the wind whistling as the storm worsened outside.

24 February 2019, 11:38pm

"Ouch," Kristi moaned, touching the side of her head where it had bounced off the inside of the plane.  Or maybe it had been the seat in front of her.  She'd never really made it all the way into the brace position.

She was hanging sideways in her seat and it was dark.  She felt around below her and found that the old woman seated next to her didn't seem to be moving.

"Are you OK?" she asked, hopefully, as she jostled her elderly neighbor.

OOC: Kirsti Carpenter rolled 9 using 1d20.  Reflex vs plane crash!
Forgot my +2 to Reflex to make it 11.  Maybe not good.

Kirsti thought her hand was wet with something, but couldn't tell what it was in the dark.  Was it from her head or the woman next to her?  Her elderly seatmate didn't seem to be breathing as she sagged in the seat next to her.

OOC: Kirst suffered 6 damage from the crash.

Alison is dinged up, but otherwise, miraculously, avoids serious injury.

Despite the number of times he had flown, Jan could never remember ever being a comfortable flyer. Even the woman sitting beside him had asked how he was feeling as he had looked a little pale. She had been full of advice for how to overcome his nerves and those around would have heard her words. Jan was pleased he didn't embarrass easily. But in the end as the pilot had called on them to brace, he'd been the one to offer support and tell her it would be OK despite his own fears.

His body was stiff and bruised from the impact but he was still full of adrenaline  and he knew he'd feel it all later. He felt ill lying at this angle and could feel something heavy on his shoulder. With his eyes still closed, he lifted a hand to feel it, hoping it hadn't pierced too deep into his flesh. Instead of metal he felt hair and warm skin, and opened his eyes to find his neighbour hanging in his seat with her head on his shoulder. She was immobile either unconscious, dead or seriously injured.

Jan gasped as he flexed his feet and arms, and pain flooded through his body. At least he didn't pass out from the pain, and he couldn't feel any warm wetness so beyond the bruises, scratches and scrapes he didn't think he was that seriously injured. Or at least the shock and adrenalin were acting as a pain reliever - his medical training told him that much.

He grasped the seat in front with his stronger, left hand in an attempt to find some purchase to prevent falling when he unbuckled his belt. He reached for his belt...

...and heard a groan of pain - a woman, or a young boy judging by the pitch in the voice - somewhere nearby. He opened his own mouth to speak, to ask the condition of the other survivor, to tell them he was there. But his voice came out as a hoarse whisper; "Hello?? Are you OK?? Do you need help??“

OOC: 17:03, Today: Jan Dahl rolled 14 using 1d20+1.  REF roll

edit: to add REF roll and OOC section to post
This message was last edited by the player at 00:15, Mon 25 Feb 2019.

Feeling around in the dark, it wasn't difficult for Jan to unbuckle and brace himself against the now horizontal seating.  It was cold in the cabin.  The woman in the seat beside him hadn't made any sound or movement while he'd reoriented himself.

OOC: Jan suffers 4 points of damage from the crash.

Free of his seat belt, Jan steadied himself by bracing his feet on the new floor - the original wall of the aircraft. He reached for the roman beside him, checking for a pulse at her neck and looking around the gloomy compartment for further signs of movement and life. He cleared his throat, licking his bloodied lips.

"Hello?? Can anyone hear me??“ His germanic accent was prominant, betraying his Scandinavian heritage. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to tempt fate and ask whether anyone else was alive.

"Yes," Kirsti replied to the male voice in the dark.  "The woman next to me, I don't think she's breathing."

She fumbled in her pocket for her phone.  She needed to see what was going on.  Call for help.

Alison HATED flying, which was clear from the white knuckled way she groaned every time the plane shook. She couldn’t help but overhear the pilot and copilot talking about how bad the situation was and then there was the down drafts which made her feel the need to vomit. She was sweating all over and then...

They were going down. It was her worst fear. She doubled over nearly putting her head up her ass, but it worked. As soon as things stopped spinning and she tore the restraints off and started tying to get out. ”Out...OUT...OUT! I gotta get out. NOW! RIGHT NOW!”

She clawed at her seat to get her carry on.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:19, Tue 26 Feb 2019.

"We have a lot of injured, miss," Jan said with as much confidence as he could muster, "I'll need all the help I can get. We..."

He was cut off when another voice, anxious, highly agitated, cried out. In the confined darkness the sound seemed to come from all round, and he strained to locate the source.

"Please, miss, try to stay calm." he said to the new voice, "you might hurt yourself or someone else."

He hoped one of the crew was still awake, or that someone else more qualified would be awake. He'd had training, but not on this scale.

By the light of her phone, Kirsti could see she had blood on her hand.  The elderly woman beside her hung limp from her lap belt, hanging down into the aisle below them.

As the plane was on it's side, the two seats on the right hand were up and the single seat across the aisle was down.  The row of seats in front of her was packed with snow and broken pine branches where the front of the plane should be.  The man's voice and hysterical woman came from close behind her somewhere.

OOC: Kirsti's row is closest to the snow pack, Jan's in the middle, then Alison's at the very back.
This message was last updated by the GM at 18:38, Mon 25 Feb 2019.

Alison couldn’t find anything that would get her out. Everything was dark, and feeling along the side just felt the same. Same, same, and same; the more same the more panicked she became. There were voices from all around, but her brain just couldn’t understand more than just voices. She started crying. She started pounding on the walls. ”OH GOD! Please out...please. I can’t breath. I can’t fucking breath.”

She sat. She pulled her knees to her chest and began to rock and moan. ”Out out please PLEASE out.”

Jan swore at the lack of light and, as if someone had read his mind, a dim glow of light illuminated a section of seating ahead of him throwing long shadows around the battered compartment. It took a few moments for the source of the light to register with him before realisation set in and he patted down his pockets to find where he'd stored his own phone.

Finding it in the front pocket he pulled it out and swiped the screen. Nothing. He cursed again, swiping with more pressure and force. Still nothing. As the woman behind him began losing it big time, he felt the urge to throw the phone and search for his carry on bag for his tablet.

Then he remembered he'd turned it off at take off. Holding the button down he welcomed the dull glow and, a few moments later, the familiar electronic welcome tone sang out. A few quick swipes and tge torch feature was activated even before tge phone had finished booting up.

In the new light he looked around him trying to find the woman who was losing her mind before she did something that could make their situation worse.

"It's OK miss, I'm coming to help." At least her loud antics might help rouse some of the other passengers who were merely stunned or unconscious.

Edit: remove spelling mistakes
This message was last edited by the player at 23:46, Mon 25 Feb 2019.

This was bad.  Kirsti checked her phone for signal.  They needed help.  She had no bars.  This was really bad.

With her phone in her mouth, she tried to unbuckle herself and stand on the seat across the aisle.  She had to pause a few times to overcome the dizziness that almost overwhelmed her.  She was pretty sure that blood was hers.  Her head really hurt.

OOC: Assumed we have no signal based on the pilot's radio issues.  I'll edit if in error.

It was dark.  Slowly uncurling himself from the crash position, Jordan carefully assessed his condition: bruised, hurt, but not dead...as far as he knew.  Pretty sure purgatory (or whatever the heck Lost was) didn't extend to Colorado.  Voices began to intrude, so he carefully reached out forward and backwards to assess where he was.  "OK, I'm OK, give me a second to figure it out..."

OOC: Reflex save of 19, so pretty sure I should be in decent shape.

Jan could see a blond woman curled up in her seat against the wall/floor of the plane in the row behind his.  He could also see someone with long hair and a baseball cap climbing out in the row ahead of him.

There was also a new voice, male, directly behind him.  The guy must have been in the window seat by the sound of it.

He'd made it through the post-crash checklist without finding anything obviously broken, which meant he could move safely.  Ish.  Fortunately, being in the window seat with the window side underneath him meant it was easy to unbuckle and regain something akin to a vertical orientation.  Planes being what they were these days, it also meant crouching in the dark while stepping on something soft that was either a body or someone's valuables.

Recognizing that at least one of the voices he'd heard had come from in front of him, Jordan tapped around on the shoulders of everyone in that row, declaring, "I'm free, give me a second and I'll get you out."

He moved as best he could around the upright and locked seatbacks, starting to shiver now that the cold air was settling in.  Good thing he'd left his jacket tucked under the seat in front of him...which was now somewhere.

"Don't look directly at the light." Jan said to the male voice as he positioned himself to shine his phone's light behind him to help the newcomer orientate themselves. He took the few moments to look around at his own surroundings; at the other passengers, at who was moving, who wasn't and who looked injured. Without medical supplies he could do much beyond bandaging or strapping of open wounds or fractures. He'd have to locate the medical box.

He ran through what he believed was located at the back of a plane. The kitchen. Possibly stores for blankets and pillows. Hopefully the med kit. He'd need his own jacket as he was feeling the cold already. And didn't planes have other emergency kits like oxygen in the overhead compartments - or rather the cupboards on the walls in their current orientation,??

He offered his hand to help the man behind free himself, keeping the light from dazzling him too much. "Here, let me help you."

Alison continued to clutch her knees, mumbling a mantra to herself over and over.  "It's just a dream.  It's just a dream…"

The turboprop was too small for a kitchen, but aft of the last row, there is an obvious soft sided case strapped to a wall with a bold red cross emblazoned on it.  There's also a fire extinguisher that managed to remain strapped to the wall.

From Jan's phone survey of the tail section, he determined there were eight people in their section.  Four of them were conscious.  The others were of indeterminate status.

Jordan nodded at Jan as he stood.  "I'm fine, I'll go help," he jerked his head back towards the blond mumbling to herself, "her."

He clambered over the seats and approached Alison's position, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.  "Are you OK?  Can you move?"

"Fair enough." Jan responded, and looked over the woman beside him again. He moved cautiously through the debris of seats and luggage, using his torch to ensure he had suitable footing before stepping again, heading to the first aid kit at the rear of the cabin.  With that in his hand he begins to check each person still unconscious for their vitals, to see who is the most injured and in need of any treatment - performing a basic version of triage.

All the while his heart hammers in his chest. He desperately wanted someone else to volunteer, to say that they were a doctor or nurse and to take this responsibility away from him.

He spoke to the lady in front, "are you sure you're ok?? Can you check to see if the people closest to you are still breathing for my while I get the medical kit??"

"I feel dizzy, but I can check," Kirsti replied to the man.  She started with the woman that had been seated next to her.

An assessment of the remaining passengers with them was not encouraging.  The elderly woman next to Kirsti was barely breathing with a shallow pulse.  Jan's talkative neighbor was breathing better, but also suffered from an obvious broken left leg.  There were two other men, one with a severe head wound and another with a piece of aluminum strut protruding from his abdomen.  This last was the worst off and bleeding profusely.

They may be suffering from other injuries not apparent, but it was bad enough as it was.

"No, I'm not fine!" Alison blurted back at the man trying to calm her down, pushing his hand away.  "This wasn't supposed to happen!  Flying is safe!"

Other than her state of mind, she seemed to have fared better than most.  She returned to her mantra in a futile attempt to rectify their current state of affairs by sheer force of will.

"OK. He's critical and I'm not sure I can do anything for him with what I have here." Jan says to anyone who might be listening, more to calm himself and give him time to make a decision. He indicates the man impaled with the steel.

"Her breathing is shallow, so she's my priority for observation. She has a broken leg, which makes head injury my priority." he gestures to each in turn with his torch beam.

"Before we do that, we need to be sure we're safe here. Can anyone see outside?? Are we near the wings, engines or any fires?? Are we safe here??" He was thankful he'd watched those air crash investigation programmes on TV as well as a plethora of emergency service fly-on-the-wall documentaries and docu-dramas. He knew that they needed to be safe before they started treating anyone regardless of their condition.