By the way, after this event, I will be killing a few characters who have been inactive, like Shas'O Doom's and possibly Kais'. And that other dude who apparently couldn't spell to save his life. :/
Darkvoidof40k wrote:By the way, after this event, I will be killing a few characters who have been inactive, like Shas'O Doom's and possibly Kais'. And that other dude who apparently couldn't spell to save his life. :/
Wait...I seem to recall you commenting on my spelling on more than one occasion...should I be worried.
Just incase anyone wants to read the entire event so far in all its awesomeness (I know I do!) then I'm compiling it here:
PLAYER EVENT
Patrick gritted his teeth as he pulled his rod against the beast-things' throat with all his strength, but Saunders elbowed him in the stomach, grabbed him and pulled him infront of him, then kicked him in the stomach, sending him sprawling onto his back and his rod flying out of sight. Deadman raised his AK-47 with a grin, but Tombstone - barely contained rage rising from within him - swatted the weapon down. "No! He's mine!" He shouted. Deadman nodded respectfully, but he failed to hide his slight surprise. Before Tombstone could take another step forward, Saunders was already on Patrick again, lifting him by the throat above himself. Patrick, realising the futility of trying to release the grip around his throat and that his neck would be snapped in mere seconds, punched Saunders in the face, once, twice, left, right. He followed up with a kick to the stomach, but Saunders threw him into the nearby wall with a thud before he could strike again. He grunted in pain, and when he tried to get up, he slopped back down heavily; winded and stunned. Saunders, or whatever had been Saunders, advanced once again towards Patrick.
Just then, the fire-exit door on the opposite side of the room burst open with a slam, and four men ran in, guns raised. Everyone's attention turned towards the new-comers as the first two opened up on full-auto with assault rifles into the back of the Saunders-thing. Round after round slammed into Saunders, who groaned loudly in pain and surprise, blood flying in tiny explosions all over his right side, chest and stomach as dozens of bullets blasted into his flesh before he collapsed heavily to the floor. Tasha screamed, "no!" before drawing her combat-magnum and putting three shots through one of the men, who slumped to the floor with a scream of agony.
The other two newcomers had started laying down covering fire as soon as they had entered, forcing the bikers to scramble for cover, even Tombstone in his rage-fuelled state realised the importance of self-preservation in relation to the furtherance of his goals. T-Rex and Tombstone found themselves together, over-turning a metal table, a dozen drinks falling to the floor and smashing in a glass and liquid blasts, the sound of it drowned out by the sound of weapons-fire. T-Rex risked a glance around the side of the table, letting off a few wild bursts from his M4 before ducking back behind cover. Rounds ricocheted off the other side of their cover, each with a metallic clunk or ping.
Tasha was about to switch aim when several shots sailed into her from the second gunman, entering and exiting through her stomach, and she collapsed with a scream to the floor, next to Halon who was still dazed from his knock and all of the sudden weapons fire. He was still aware enough to grab Tasha, who still tightly clutched her pistol, into cover. "Sh*t!" he shouted to himself from behind a pool table.
The three active newcomers pushed over chairs, tables, lamps and anything else that could provide an ounce of cover. They all reloaded, spent clips clunking to the floor and fresh magazines taking their place. The bikers sent shots in their general direction, but none were hit. The three men managed to get together to speak. "Theron, Snyder, give me covering fire, I'm going to get The Captain!" Johnathon said. The two men nodded at his orders and moved to take up firing positions, to then let off short, controlled bursts of suppressing fire. Johnathon crouched and began to move towards Patrick, grimacing as he passed the body of Gary. A year. A whole damn year they'd known each other. And they'd had a good year. He sighed in relief, letting a small smile slip onto his face as he saw the chest of the bleeding man rising slowly and painfully, the body shuddering with each painful breath. "Gary, just stay with us! That's an order damnit!" He called and then he continued on. He broke cover and ran towards Patrick, shooting towards the bikers' cover in the hopes that it'd keep their heads, and guns, down for awhile longer. He reached Patrick, and helped him up. "Thank you, Sergeant," Patrick said flatly, commending his as-of-recent follower. Johnathon grinned, "any time, boss." "Lets go," Patrick said, though he already knew the order was unnecessary. As he began running back to cover, he glanced across the room, and his eyes met with Halon's for a fleeting few seconds. In those eyes, he recognised the pain of dual loyalties. And the pain of being thrown across a room. Then the moment was over, and they were almost there.
"We got runners!" Ajax shouted, from his position behind a minifridge. Tombstone didn't stop to acknowledge the information and immediately stood, pistols raised. He fired shot after shot at his hated enemy, several bullets missing by mere inches. One clanked off Patrick's body armour, of which he could only assume had been military-issue that had saved the man's life on so many times. He roared as he was cheated yet again by that damnable body-armour, but was forced to duck behind cover again as a hail of bullets passed over his head. Then the suppressing fire stopped.
Patrick and Johnathon dived back behind cover, and Johnathon called a cease-fire. "We're low on ammo!" Theron called. "We've also got a man down," Johnathon informed Patrick, who nodded. "Very well, it seems the situation is quite grave." "With all due respect sir, I think we should retreat! We've probably only have about half a dozen clips left between us, as well as our handguns, but we're outnumbered as well." "Your desire to preserve the unit shows merit, Sergeant, but you do not consider the wider battle. We retreat now, and we'll be hounded by those fools until we're gone or dead, both of which are just about equally bad. If the few must suffer so that the many may prevail, then so be it. Acceptable losses, but sacrifice will not be forgotten. We make our stand here, and either we die, or our enemies die. One way or another, this fued must end here and now - it cannot go on any longer." Johnathon nodded, but said nothing for a moment, gazing idly at the floor. Then he looked up. "Yes. Yes sir," he replied. Patrick turned, and crept towards Gary as fast as possible. When he reached the fallen man, who was somehow still clinging to life, he took two rifle clips, the M16 and the M9 that the man had on him. He then returned to Johnathon who had just told Theron and Snyder that they were to fight.
"Lets end this," Patrick said with sinister finality.
Tombstone couldn't have agreed more.
Halon dispaired. Many people - people he had known over the last year - were dead now, because of him. He couldn't save them. He had failed, as their guardian, as their protector. As their saviour. "I can't do this anymore," he quietly whispered to himself, holding back tears that had been stressing to get out for a long time now, "I can't do it." He practically had a mini-war on his hands - between people he both had loyalties to. Tombstone and his bikers, they had met a whole year ago, and had survived nukes, zombies and crime lords for four, was it five days? He forgot. And yet Patrick, he had 'befriended' him just yesterday. That strange man, with all those piercings, and that voice - always emotionless, and what he did to that dead girl.. it made him shudder.
It was clear to him now where his loyalties lay. All this would only end with Patrick's death, and if some people; his people, got in the way, well, they couldn't be spared. Nothing could, nothing must prevent this. He looked down at Tasha, who had slipped into unconsciousness, and the blood that was pooling around her slowly. He looked at his bloodied hands. He grimaced and retched, almost feeling like he was responsible for this atrocity, when he knew it was not so. There was only one man responsible for this, and that was because he had brainwashed some good people into doing it. In his name. Reaching down, Halon delicately uncurled Tasha's rigid fingers, and picked up her Magnum..
"Hold them here. Keep their attention focused on yourselves," Patrick said. "Why, sir?" Johnathon asked. "Because I'm going to flank them, hit them from the rear." Johnathon did not smile, he merely nodded, he had become accustomed to killing; killing the undead. But killing humans was an altogether different matter. But then he remembered Gary. Bastards. He spat on the floor as an unseen gesture towards their enemies. Halon was his friend, but he had been losing it for awhile now. What they needed now, more than ever, was a strong leader, one who could keep them safe. Patrick was that man. But at what cost would his leadership and protection come at? Would more people die first? said a small, doubtful part of his mind. Of course more people will die! he retorted to the doubtful part of his mind, those troublemaker bikers will die! But despite his brave words, Johnathon actually wondered if his doubts could be correct. He shook his head to clear his mind. His doubts did not matter now; come what may, first he had to survive this. He had chosen his side, and so had the others. He raised his AK-47 and nodded to the others.
"Start firing in twenty-five seconds," Patrick ordered. Then he immediately dropped prone, and began crawling towards the fire-exist. 20 seconds. He was almost out now. 16 seconds. He was out. 12 Seconds. He jumped up at began running around the side of the compound, to the front. 3 seconds...
Tombstone waved Ajax and Woolly over. "They've stopped firing. I don't have a clue in f*ck why, but they have. So they've either run out of ammo, or more likely, they're up to something." Ajax piped up, "so you've got a plan up your sleeve as well?" Tombstone nodded. "We have advantage in numbers, and I think we can count on Halon. But he's a bit of a wild card right now, so we're gonna focus on what we got-" "guns?" T-Rex chimed in. Everyone looked at him. "What? We do have more guns than them." "Whatever," Tombstone said. "Back to the point, I think we should flank 'em. Woolly, you're gonna run up round the right and blast their cover with your shotgun. Ajax, T-Rex, go left. Deadman, you're with me. We're going round the outside." Woolly racked his shotgun slide. "Sounds good to me," he grinned. "Lets paste these guys," Ajax said. Tombstone grinned, the one thing no one would ever take away from them until they were all dead was their fighting spirit. "Lets move!" Tombstone ordered. He and Deadman ran back outside through the main entrance. Woolly headed right, past the minifridge, and slowly approached "the enemy lines", shotgun held up, ready to fire. Ajax and T-rex slipped lithely around past a sofa and over an overturned bookcase. They came to a stop behind the drinks counter. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about," Ajax said happily. "What the hell're you on about?" T-Rex asked. Ajax opened a low-down cabinet with transparent doors, and pulled out a glass bottle. "A good year," Ajax mumbled happily as he popped the cork and took a long swig of the ancient beverage. T-Rex just watched in amazement as Ajax emptied the entire thing. "Good stuff," he rasped. "I can tell," T-Rex replied.
"Psst!" "What?" Halon said in confusion, looking at Tasha. "Psst!" Halon rolled his eyes at his stupidity and slowly turned, and saw one of the bikers a few metres away, almost completely concealed behind a chair. The biker shot him a questioning look, and Halon merely nodded, then filled up Tasha's Magnum with fresh bullets before picking up his M9. Just then, Patrick's lackeys got up and sprayed the entire area where the bikers had been mere moments ago with bullets. They stopped firing when they realised that nobody was there.
"What the f*ck?" Johnathon said, before he jumped, startled, at the sound of a large boom. And another. He whipped around to his horror, he saw one of the bikers running towards him, repeatedly firing his shotgun. A wooden table was hit, and it exploded, sending wooden fragmentation flying everywhere. Snyder was grazed on his left arm, and he whelped even as he began firing at his attacker. But the wooden fragment had put him off and moved his aim, which gave Woolly enough time to hit the deck and slide behind the pool table in the centre of the room. He began sliding fresh shells into his shotgun. Halon jumped up, his face devoid of all emotion as he shot from both of his pistols. Seconds later, Ajax and T-Rex opened up as well, respective SMG and M4 firing a hail of bullets at their enemies. Theron aimed at Halon, but hesitated, and decided to duck down behind cover again as a storm of bullets flew over their heads. In what surely must have been the luckiest break in his life, two of Halon's pistol bullets slammed into Snyder's AK-47, breaking it clean in two. He fell back onto his as$ from the force of it. He cradled his wounded arm momentarily, and cursed at the pain. Then he drew his .32 Revolver and held it in his uninjured right arm.
Johnathon was breathing heavily. He had narrowly avoided being shot by the two bikers on the left, and he fumbled for a fresh clip, his last clip, in desperation. He breathed in deeply, remembering that he was in charge here now. And with that, he decided that they had well and truly been routed. To stay and fight would be suicide, and if they could perhaps escape then that was a much better option.
Just then, Woolly stood up and volted the pool table, and ran forward.
Legs appeared to Johnathon's right, and he instinctively slammed his rifle butt into the nearest one, hitting bone on the mans' left foot, causing it to bend unnaturely and its owner to scream in anger and pain as he fell over forward. Johnathon held his rifle like a club and leapt at the downed man with a scream of fury on his lips.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:By the way, after this event, I will be killing a few characters who have been inactive, like Shas'O Doom's and possibly Kais'. And that other dude who apparently couldn't spell to save his life. :/
Wait...I seem to recall you commenting on my spelling on more than one occasion...should I be worried.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:By the way, after this event, I will be killing a few characters who have been inactive, like Shas'O Doom's and possibly Kais'. And that other dude who apparently couldn't spell to save his life. :/
Wait...I seem to recall you commenting on my spelling on more than one occasion...should I be worried.
You should always be worried.
All things considered ... I find myself oddly calm...perhaps that's a sign of impending doom.
FM Ninja 048 wrote:Is part three the conclusion or will it be a four parter?
Three, four, five. Whatever. It's all more work for me and more fun for you.
In all seriousness, it looks like this will probably have part 3 for the combat resolution (or part 3+4 if I'm lazy) and then 4 and/or five to just wrap it up.
FM Ninja 048 wrote:Is part three the conclusion or will it be a four parter?
Three, four, five. Whatever. It's all more work for me and more fun for you.
In all seriousness, it looks like this will probably have part 3 for the combat resolution (or part 3+4 if I'm lazy) and then 4 and/or five to just wrap it up.
You really enjoy letting the tension build don't you Darko?
Joking aside..I am enjoying the event a great deal.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Well, sadly, I don't know why but Part 3 just seems to read really sh*tly to me so far. I feel really dissapointed in myself now.
Oh well, I've only written like 1/5 of it. Maybe less.
Hmmm,if I could be so bold as to offer some advice...if your dissatisfied with what you've written,push away from the keyboard and attempt to "envision" the entire scenario taking place in your head (yes I know this is obvious...but I find attempting to type a story "as" I see it,is far more difficult than typing it "after" I've "seen" it...if you follow me).
Once the "scene(s) " have played out in your head,then return to the keyboard.
...Feel free to disregard this if you feel it's not applicable,just tell me to feth off and mind mah own bizzniz.
I already have a general idea of where I'm going with the event, but it all just seems a bit meh. Because I'm not sticking to a certain original idea, but this one will hopefully work out better.
Patrick heard the rattling of AK's letting rip mere seconds after he had left the rear exit, and then he heard something else; a shotgun, perhaps. Then the familiar and regular single-shots of pistols. And then an SMG. That did not bode well for his men. Nonetheless, he could not turn back now, the entire fight hinged upon his actions. He jogged on, to his right. The Chemical Toilets were ahead, near the back-right corner of the Rec-room. He reached the next corner and ran past the toilets, and ran onwards. Just around the corner was the main entrance.
Woolly rolled onto his back and groaned in agony as sharp flares of pain whipped up his body from his foot and into his brain. A milisecond later and something hard slammed into his temple, sending him sprawling right. Again and again he felt the hard object slammed into the back of his head until everything began to go numb and the floor was disappeared; consumed by darkness.
Johnathon was breathing heavily. He had just beaten a man to death, the back of the bikers' skull a bloody mess. He looked around, and saw Theron reloading behind a sofa. Then he noticed Halon standing on the sofa above Theron, pistols whipping into position. Theron glanced up, a look of pure terror on his face. But Halon hesitated, which saved Theron's life just as the same mans' hesitation had saved Halon's seconds before. Johnathon did not hesitate. He raised his rifle, but to his dismay heard only the clicking sound of an ammoless gun. He looked down and saw that he hadn't finished reloading. He discarded his rifle and drew his M9.
Snyder jumped up and tackled Halon with a roar, taking the man down and onto the floor. He tried to get his pistol to Halon's head, but his target headbutted him, disorientating him. That was all Halon needed, and he shoved a man he had once called friend off of himself. He reached out and grabbed Tasha's pistol which was nearby, and aimed between his own legs at Snyder. He pulled the trigger, hitting the man on his right shoulder, causing him to howl in pain and roll over, grasping his bleeding wound.
Just as Johnathon remembered the other bikers, a large form slammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground. "You f*ck!" Screamed a voice from behind him. He brought his left elbow up, which connected with someone's face, knocking his assailer off of him. This gave him just enough time to turn onto his back and shoot the biker twice in the chest.
T-Rex stopped moving. Ajax had seen death before. It was so quick. In the time it took for a heart to beat an entire life could be snuffed out, just like that. He thought about things like this a lot more often than people knew, and he was smarter than he was given credit for. Behind his muscular frame, there was actually a philosopher and strikingly intelligent man. The hell anyone else was ever going to know about that. It was easier just to ride with the brothers and heck, he enjoyed partying and pillaging as much as the next guy.. but in the last year, he'd had a lot of time to think. But now wasn't one of those times. He raised his SMG and even as the man on the floor spun his aim towards him, he saw the realisation of imminant death on his face. He pulled the trigger, and emptied half a clip into the man on the floor, blood flying out of almost two-dozen holes in his body, and as the body slumped back, still spasming in death, a pool of blood began to accumulate on the floor around him. Johnathon died without a sound. Looking up, Ajax saw another man with an Ak-47, who was both looking and aiming straight at him. He raised his aim, but it was too late, the other man had already started firing and Ajax was peppered with bullets, and as he collapsed backwards, his finger held the trigger of his SMG depressed and the rest of his clip was emptied into the roof. Yep, just like that a life could be snuffed out. In the space of a heartbeat, thought Ajax as he closed his eyes and fell into unconsciousness.
Halon stumbled to his feet as both Deadman and Tombstone ran in through the emergency exit where half-a-dozen bodies lay unmoving and Patrick entered through the main entrance.
"Holy sh*t!" Deadman shouted, seeing three Satans' Servants lying around his feet. Tombstone did not care at this moment. All that mattered was the man, no, demon, that was standing directly opposite him. "Patrick," he snarled, and raised his MP5. But even as he fired, Patrick was on the move, diving behind a certain over-turned metal table. Tombstone cursed.
Halon lost sight of Patrick, so instead he returned his gaze to Tombstone, only to have an Ak-47 Assault Rifle butt slam into his nose, breaking it. He stumbled away, reeling from the powerful blow, even as Theron volted the sofa and slammed into him again, knocking him over an old Television that stood on a small table, sending him, the TV and the table crashing to the floor. Halon was winded as his stomach hit the table with a crunch and he felt ribs break. Theron raised an arm and then brought his elbow down, slamming it into Halon's spine, which hurt, to put it mildly. As he succumbed to pain, Halon wondered how anyone who he had spent a whole damned year with, who he had taken in from the harsh wilderness that was the world, could be doing this to him. But had he not pointed a gun at him? Halon groaned quietly as he fell into unconsciousness. He welcomed it; less pain was good pain.
Theron dropped his rifle and grabbed Halon's limp body, and pulled it up infront of himself, hoping that he was not too late. Luckily for him, he wasn't, and Deadman had to jerk his aim suddenly to the side as he fired his own AK-47, sending a hail of bullets into a framed picture of George Bush that hung from the wall facing him. The picture was destroyed beyond recognition and the frame fell to the floor and smashed.
Meanwhile, Snyder had been slowly crawling away, and found himself near the minifridge even as Theron joined him. His friend grabbed him under each arm, which sent searing pain like he had never felt before through his body from his right shoulder. He clenched his teeth together and a muffled scream came out of his mouth. Theron swiftly dragged him past the minifridge and into cover behind an old, tattered sofa. He saw The Captain sheltering about four metres away behind an over-turned metal table. He put Snyder down with his back against the sofa before grabbing the mans' M9 and unholstering his own. He crept as close to Patrick as he dare, reaching the very edge of the old sofa, both pistols held upwards, ready for combat. He nodded to Patrick, although he wasn't quite sure why.
Patrick nodded back, and then jumped up and aimed his AK-47 over the table, firing in the direction of the bikers that were still standing. Deadman and Tombstone had already reached cover by the time Patrick started shooting, however, and he ducked back down behind the table as the inevitable return fire thudded into the wall above him. Theron looked past the side of the sofa and fired off a few shots from each pistol before ducking back behind cover.
Tombstone stood up. "Face me Goddamn you! I will be paid in blood for all those you have killed, all those your little band of soldiers have killed!" He snarled. His voice boomed in the room, and Deadman realised he had never, ever in his entire life heard anyone, even Tombstone himself, shout so loudly.
Patrick closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool metal of the table. "So be it," he replied calmly, only just loud enough to be heard by his enemies. He heard the sound of what could only be a gun clattering to the floor, and after discarding his rifle he stood up, hand on sword hilt.
Yep, that means there'll be a PART FOUR!!!! I need a rest, and besides, it's funny to see you guys annoyed and shocked reactions to the continued suspense.
Hope you're all enjoying it still, anyway, here's the updated event:
PLAYER EVENT
Patrick gritted his teeth as he pulled his rod against the beast-things' throat with all his strength, but Saunders elbowed him in the stomach, grabbed him and pulled him infront of him, then kicked him in the stomach, sending him sprawling onto his back and his rod flying out of sight. Deadman raised his AK-47 with a grin, but Tombstone - barely contained rage rising from within him - swatted the weapon down. "No! He's mine!" He shouted. Deadman nodded respectfully, but he failed to hide his slight surprise. Before Tombstone could take another step forward, Saunders was already on Patrick again, lifting him by the throat above himself. Patrick, realising the futility of trying to release the grip around his throat and that his neck would be snapped in mere seconds, punched Saunders in the face, once, twice, left, right. He followed up with a kick to the stomach, but Saunders threw him into the nearby wall with a thud before he could strike again. He grunted in pain, and when he tried to get up, he slopped back down heavily; winded and stunned. Saunders, or whatever had been Saunders, advanced once again towards Patrick.
Just then, the fire-exit door on the opposite side of the room burst open with a slam, and four men ran in, guns raised. Everyone's attention turned towards the new-comers as the first two opened up on full-auto with assault rifles into the back of the Saunders-thing. Round after round slammed into Saunders, who groaned loudly in pain and surprise, blood flying in tiny explosions all over his right side, chest and stomach as dozens of bullets blasted into his flesh before he collapsed heavily to the floor. Tasha screamed, "no!" before drawing her combat-magnum and putting three shots through one of the men, who slumped to the floor with a scream of agony.
The other two newcomers had started laying down covering fire as soon as they had entered, forcing the bikers to scramble for cover, even Tombstone in his rage-fuelled state realised the importance of self-preservation in relation to the furtherance of his goals. T-Rex and Tombstone found themselves together, over-turning a metal table, a dozen drinks falling to the floor and smashing in a glass and liquid blasts, the sound of it drowned out by the sound of weapons-fire. T-Rex risked a glance around the side of the table, letting off a few wild bursts from his M4 before ducking back behind cover. Rounds ricocheted off the other side of their cover, each with a metallic clunk or ping.
Tasha was about to switch aim when several shots sailed into her from the second gunman, entering and exiting through her stomach, and she collapsed with a scream to the floor, next to Halon who was still dazed from his knock and all of the sudden weapons fire. He was still aware enough to grab Tasha, who still tightly clutched her pistol, into cover. "Sh*t!" he shouted to himself from behind a pool table.
The three active newcomers pushed over chairs, tables, lamps and anything else that could provide an ounce of cover. They all reloaded, spent clips clunking to the floor and fresh magazines taking their place. The bikers sent shots in their general direction, but none were hit. The three men managed to get together to speak. "Theron, Snyder, give me covering fire, I'm going to get The Captain!" Johnathon said. The two men nodded at his orders and moved to take up firing positions, to then let off short, controlled bursts of suppressing fire. Johnathon crouched and began to move towards Patrick, grimacing as he passed the body of Gary. A year. A whole damn year they'd known each other. And they'd had a good year. He sighed in relief, letting a small smile slip onto his face as he saw the chest of the bleeding man rising slowly and painfully, the body shuddering with each painful breath. "Gary, just stay with us! That's an order damnit!" He called and then he continued on. He broke cover and ran towards Patrick, shooting towards the bikers' cover in the hopes that it'd keep their heads, and guns, down for awhile longer. He reached Patrick, and helped him up. "Thank you, Sergeant," Patrick said flatly, commending his as-of-recent follower. Johnathon grinned, "any time, boss." "Lets go," Patrick said, though he already knew the order was unnecessary. As he began running back to cover, he glanced across the room, and his eyes met with Halon's for a fleeting few seconds. In those eyes, he recognised the pain of dual loyalties. And the pain of being thrown across a room. Then the moment was over, and they were almost there.
"We got runners!" Ajax shouted, from his position behind a minifridge. Tombstone didn't stop to acknowledge the information and immediately stood, pistols raised. He fired shot after shot at his hated enemy, several bullets missing by mere inches. One clanked off Patrick's body armour, of which he could only assume had been military-issue that had saved the man's life on so many times. He roared as he was cheated yet again by that damnable body-armour, but was forced to duck behind cover again as a hail of bullets passed over his head. Then the suppressing fire stopped.
Patrick and Johnathon dived back behind cover, and Johnathon called a cease-fire. "We're low on ammo!" Theron called. "We've also got a man down," Johnathon informed Patrick, who nodded. "Very well, it seems the situation is quite grave." "With all due respect sir, I think we should retreat! We've probably only have about half a dozen clips left between us, as well as our handguns, but we're outnumbered as well." "Your desire to preserve the unit shows merit, Sergeant, but you do not consider the wider battle. We retreat now, and we'll be hounded by those fools until we're gone or dead, both of which are just about equally bad. If the few must suffer so that the many may prevail, then so be it. Acceptable losses, but sacrifice will not be forgotten. We make our stand here, and either we die, or our enemies die. One way or another, this fued must end here and now - it cannot go on any longer." Johnathon nodded, but said nothing for a moment, gazing idly at the floor. Then he looked up. "Yes. Yes sir," he replied. Patrick turned, and crept towards Gary as fast as possible. When he reached the fallen man, who was somehow still clinging to life, he took two rifle clips, the M16 and the M9 that the man had on him. He then returned to Johnathon who had just told Theron and Snyder that they were to fight.
"Lets end this," Patrick said with sinister finality.
Tombstone couldn't have agreed more.
Halon dispaired. Many people - people he had known over the last year - were dead now, because of him. He couldn't save them. He had failed, as their guardian, as their protector. As their saviour. "I can't do this anymore," he quietly whispered to himself, holding back tears that had been stressing to get out for a long time now, "I can't do it." He practically had a mini-war on his hands - between people he both had loyalties to. Tombstone and his bikers, they had met a whole year ago, and had survived nukes, zombies and crime lords for four, was it five days? He forgot. And yet Patrick, he had 'befriended' him just yesterday. That strange man, with all those piercings, and that voice - always emotionless, and what he did to that dead girl.. it made him shudder.
It was clear to him now where his loyalties lay. All this would only end with Patrick's death, and if some people; his people, got in the way, well, they couldn't be spared. Nothing could, nothing must prevent this. He looked down at Tasha, who had slipped into unconsciousness, and the blood that was pooling around her slowly. He looked at his bloodied hands. He grimaced and retched, almost feeling like he was responsible for this atrocity, when he knew it was not so. There was only one man responsible for this, and that was because he had brainwashed some good people into doing it. In his name. Reaching down, Halon delicately uncurled Tasha's rigid fingers, and picked up her Magnum.
"Hold them here. Keep their attention focused on yourselves," Patrick said. "Why, sir?" Johnathon asked. "Because I'm going to flank them, hit them from the rear." Johnathon did not smile, he merely nodded, he had become accustomed to killing; killing the undead. But killing humans was an altogether different matter. But then he remembered Gary. Bastards. He spat on the floor as an unseen gesture towards their enemies. Halon was his friend, but he had been losing it for awhile now. What they needed now, more than ever, was a strong leader, one who could keep them safe. Patrick was that man. But at what cost would his leadership and protection come at? Would more people die first? said a small, doubtful part of his mind. Of course more people will die! he retorted to the doubtful part of his mind, those troublemaker bikers will die! But despite his brave words, Johnathon actually wondered if his doubts could be correct. He shook his head to clear his mind. His doubts did not matter now; come what may, first he had to survive this. He had chosen his side, and so had the others. He raised his AK-47 and nodded to the others.
"Start firing in twenty-five seconds," Patrick ordered. Then he immediately dropped prone, and began crawling towards the fire-exist. 20 seconds. He was almost out now. 16 seconds. He was out. 12 Seconds. He jumped up at began running around the side of the compound, to the front. 3 seconds...
Tombstone waved Ajax and Woolly over. "They've stopped firing. I don't have a clue in f*ck why, but they have. So they've either run out of ammo, or more likely, they're up to something." Ajax piped up, "so you've got a plan up your sleeve as well?" Tombstone nodded. "We have advantage in numbers, and I think we can count on Halon. But he's a bit of a wild card right now, so we're gonna focus on what we got-" "guns?" T-Rex chimed in. Everyone looked at him. "What? We do have more guns than them." "Whatever," Tombstone said. "Back to the point, I think we should flank 'em. Woolly, you're gonna run up round the right and blast their cover with your shotgun. Ajax, T-Rex, go left. Deadman, you're with me. We're going round the outside." Woolly racked his shotgun slide. "Sounds good to me," he grinned. "Lets paste these guys," Ajax said. Tombstone grinned, the one thing no one would ever take away from them until they were all dead was their fighting spirit. "Lets move!" Tombstone ordered. He and Deadman ran back outside through the main entrance. Woolly headed right, past the minifridge, and slowly approached "the enemy lines", shotgun held up, ready to fire. Ajax and T-rex slipped lithely around past a sofa and over an overturned bookcase. They came to a stop behind the drinks counter. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about," Ajax said happily. "What the hell're you on about?" T-Rex asked. Ajax opened a low-down cabinet with transparent doors, and pulled out a glass bottle. "A good year," Ajax mumbled happily as he popped the cork and took a long swig of the ancient beverage. T-Rex just watched in amazement as Ajax emptied the entire thing. "Good stuff," he rasped. "I can tell," T-Rex replied.
"Psst!" "What?" Halon said in confusion, looking at Tasha. "Psst!" Halon rolled his eyes at his stupidity and slowly turned, and saw one of the bikers a few metres away, almost completely concealed behind a chair. The biker shot him a questioning look, and Halon merely nodded, then filled up Tasha's Magnum with fresh bullets before picking up his M9. Just then, Patrick's lackeys got up and sprayed the entire area where the bikers had been mere moments ago with bullets. They stopped firing when they realised that nobody was there.
"What the f*ck?" Johnathon said, before he jumped, startled, at the sound of a large boom. And another. He whipped around to his horror, he saw one of the bikers running towards him, repeatedly firing his shotgun. A wooden table was hit, and it exploded, sending wooden fragmentation flying everywhere. Snyder was grazed on his left arm, and he whelped even as he began firing at his attacker. But the wooden fragment had put him off and moved his aim, which gave Woolly enough time to hit the deck and slide behind the pool table in the centre of the room. He began sliding fresh shells into his shotgun. Halon jumped up, his face devoid of all emotion as he shot from both of his pistols. Seconds later, Ajax and T-Rex opened up as well, respective SMG and M4 firing a hail of bullets at their enemies. Theron aimed at Halon, but hesitated, and decided to duck down behind cover again as a storm of bullets flew over their heads. In what surely must have been the luckiest break in his life, two of Halon's pistol bullets slammed into Snyder's AK-47, breaking it clean in two. He fell back onto his as$ from the force of it. He cradled his wounded arm momentarily, and cursed at the pain. Then he drew his .32 Revolver and held it in his uninjured right arm.
Johnathon was breathing heavily. He had narrowly avoided being shot by the two bikers on the left, and he fumbled for a fresh clip, his last clip, in desperation. He breathed in deeply, remembering that he was in charge here now. And with that, he decided that they had well and truly been routed. To stay and fight would be suicide, and if they could perhaps escape then that was a much better option.
Just then, Woolly stood up and vaulted the pool table, and ran forward.
Legs appeared to Johnathon's right, and he instinctively slammed his rifle butt into the nearest one, hitting bone on the mans' left foot, causing it to bend unnaturely and its owner to scream in anger and pain as he fell over forward. Johnathon held his rifle like a club and leapt at the downed man with a scream of fury on his lips.
Patrick heard the rattling of AK's letting rip mere seconds after he had left the rear exit, and then he heard something else; a shotgun, perhaps. Then the familiar and regular single-shots of pistols. And then an SMG. That did not bode well for his men. Nonetheless, he could not turn back now, the entire fight hinged upon his actions. He jogged on, to his right. The Chemical Toilets were ahead, near the back-right corner of the Rec-room. He reached the next corner and ran past the toilets, and ran onwards. Just around the corner was the main entrance.
Woolly rolled onto his back and groaned in agony as sharp flares of pain whipped up his body from his foot and into his brain. A milisecond later and something hard slammed into his temple, sending him sprawling right. Again and again he felt the hard object slammed into the back of his head until everything began to go numb and the floor was disappeared; consumed by darkness.
Johnathon was breathing heavily. He had just beaten a man to death, the back of the bikers' skull a bloody mess. He looked around, and saw Theron reloading behind a sofa. Then he noticed Halon standing on the sofa above Theron, pistols whipping into position. Theron glanced up, a look of pure terror on his face. But Halon hesitated, which saved Theron's life just as the same mans' hesitation had saved Halon's seconds before. Johnathon did not hesitate. He raised his rifle, but to his dismay heard only the clicking sound of an ammoless gun. He looked down and saw that he hadn't finished reloading. He discarded his rifle and drew his M9.
Snyder jumped up and tackled Halon with a roar, taking the man down and onto the floor. He tried to get his pistol to Halon's head, but his target headbutted him, disorientating him. That was all Halon needed, and he shoved a man he had once called friend off of himself. He reached out and grabbed Tasha's pistol which was nearby, and aimed between his own legs at Snyder. He pulled the trigger, hitting the man on his right shoulder, causing him to howl in pain and roll over, grasping his bleeding wound.
Just as Johnathon remembered the other bikers, a large form slammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground. "You f*ck!" Screamed a voice from behind him. He brought his left elbow up, which connected with someone's face, knocking his assailer off of him. This gave him just enough time to turn onto his back and shoot the biker twice in the chest.
T-Rex stopped moving. Ajax had seen death before. It was so quick. In the time it took for a heart to beat an entire life could be snuffed out, just like that. He thought about things like this a lot more often than people knew, and he was smarter than he was given credit for. Behind his muscular frame, there was actually a philosopher and strikingly intelligent man. The hell anyone else was ever going to know about that. It was easier just to ride with the brothers and heck, he enjoyed partying and pillaging as much as the next guy.. but in the last year, he'd had a lot of time to think. But now wasn't one of those times. He raised his SMG and even as the man on the floor spun his aim towards him, he saw the realisation of imminant death on his face. He pulled the trigger, and emptied half a clip into the man on the floor, blood flying out of almost two-dozen holes in his body, and as the body slumped back, still spasming in death, a pool of blood began to accumulate on the floor around him. Johnathon died without a sound. Looking up, Ajax saw another man with an Ak-47, who was both looking and aiming straight at him. He raised his aim, but it was too late, the other man had already started firing and Ajax was peppered with bullets, and as he collapsed backwards, his finger held the trigger of his SMG depressed and the rest of his clip was emptied into the roof. Yep, just like that a life could be snuffed out. In the space of a heartbeat, thought Ajax as he closed his eyes and fell into unconsciousness.
Halon stumbled to his feet as both Deadman and Tombstone ran in through the emergency exit where half-a-dozen bodies lay unmoving and Patrick entered through the main entrance.
"Holy sh*t!" Deadman shouted, seeing three Satans' Servants lying around his feet. Tombstone did not care at this moment. All that mattered was the man, no, demon, that was standing directly opposite him. "Patrick," he snarled, and raised his MP5. But even as he fired, Patrick was on the move, diving behind a certain over-turned metal table. Tombstone cursed.
Halon lost sight of Patrick, so instead he returned his gaze to Tombstone, only to have an Ak-47 Assault Rifle butt slam into his nose, breaking it. He stumbled away, reeling from the powerful blow, even as Theron vaulted the sofa and slammed into him again, knocking him over an old Television that stood on a small table, sending him, the TV and the table crashing to the floor. Halon was winded as his stomach hit the table with a crunch and he felt ribs break. Theron raised an arm and then brought his elbow down, slamming it into Halon's spine, which hurt, to put it mildly. As he succumbed to pain, Halon wondered how anyone who he had spent a whole damned year with, who he had taken in from the harsh wilderness that was the world, could be doing this to him. But had he not pointed a gun at him? Halon groaned quietly as he fell into unconsciousness. He welcomed it; less pain was good pain.
Theron dropped his rifle and grabbed Halon's limp body, and pulled it up infront of himself, hoping that he was not too late. Luckily for him, he wasn't, and Deadman had to jerk his aim suddenly to the side as he fired his own AK-47, sending a hail of bullets into a framed picture of George Bush that hung from the wall facing him. The picture was destroyed beyond recognition and the frame fell to the floor and smashed.
Meanwhile, Snyder had been slowly crawling away, and found himself near the minifridge even as Theron joined him. His friend grabbed him under each arm, which sent searing pain like he had never felt before through his body from his right shoulder. He clenched his teeth together and a muffled scream came out of his mouth. Theron swiftly dragged him past the minifridge and into cover behind an old, tattered sofa. He saw The Captain sheltering about four metres away behind an over-turned metal table. He put Snyder down with his back against the sofa before grabbing the mans' M9 and unholstering his own. He crept as close to Patrick as he dare, reaching the very edge of the old sofa, both pistols held upwards, ready for combat. He nodded to Patrick, although he wasn't quite sure why.
Patrick nodded back, and then jumped up and aimed his AK-47 over the table, firing in the direction of the bikers that were still standing. Deadman and Tombstone had already reached cover by the time Patrick started shooting, however, and he ducked back down behind the table as the inevitable return fire thudded into the wall above him. Theron looked past the side of the sofa and fired off a few shots from each pistol before ducking back behind cover.
Tombstone stood up. "Face me Goddamn you! I will be paid in blood for all those you have killed, all those your little band of soldiers have killed!" He snarled. His voice boomed in the room, and Deadman realised he had never, ever in his entire life heard anyone, even Tombstone himself, shout so loudly.
Patrick closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool metal of the table. "So be it," he replied calmly, only just loud enough to be heard by his enemies. He heard the sound of what could only be a gun clattering to the floor, and after discarding his rifle he stood up, hand on sword hilt.
I quite like the warrior/philosopher spin you added to him (Ajax).
I'd left him as a sort of "blank slate" for future development and definitely like your take on his personality.
Patrick looted the AK off dead ol' Gary, remember?
Y'know, the interesting thing about the event, I reckon anyway, is that it takes like 10 minutes to read, but the actual story content lasts only about 3 minutes.
Patrick looted the AK off dead ol' Gary, remember?
Y'know, the interesting thing about the event, I reckon anyway, is that it takes like 10 minutes to read, but the actual story content lasts only about 3 minutes.
But why would he use that over his own weapon? Its far superior to an AK.
Karon wrote:
But why would he use that over his own weapon? Its far superior to an AK.
Your weapon:
CBJ MS LAW (Light Assault Weapon)
It shoots this:
6.5x25 CBJ
Effective range: up to 100M with 50m being "standard"
(Could not find a 100% accurate range, but everyone I read was shooting targets at 50M with one shooting at 100M.)
And this is my own personal AK47:
It shoots this: (and anything else I shove it in lol)
7.62x39
Effective Range: 300M with 150M being "standard"
Shall I post reloading/Velocity/Energy from my reloading manuals, or will you believe me when I say that overall, your weapon system is not superior to the AK47? Sure it is smaller and lighter with a higher ROF... but it shoots a much smaller round (bout the size of a 9mm), 1/3 the effective range, less energy and pen power at range, plus is nowhere near as reliable as the AK.
The Ak-47 is deadlier because it shoots tigers out of the shells!
So Halon went and got himself knocked out, eh? I'm a bit confused about what happened immediately after that. It seemed like Halon was innappropriately man-handled by one of his former men.
I guess he was used as a shield and then dropped?
Great event except for the fact that you keep using "volted" instead of "vaulted".
BWAHAHA! Oh crap, Halon's probably going to die now.
halonachos wrote:The Ak-47 is deadlier because it shoots tigers out of the shells!
So Halon went and got himself knocked out, eh? I'm a bit confused about what happened immediately after that. It seemed like Halon was innappropriately man-handled by one of his former men.
I guess he was used as a shield and then dropped?
Great event except for the fact that you keep using "volted" instead of "vaulted".
BWAHAHA! Oh crap, Halon's probably going to die now.
Ah. Sh*t. You have disproved my infallibility regarding grammar. *world explodes*
Must. Resist. Temptation. To. Mass. Edit. Goddamn.
Anyways, we're going on the basis that either a) the AK-47 was easier at hand and it wouldn't make a damn of difference in the enclosed environment. b) he left his uber-uber-rifle because he was in such a hurry to just get there. or c) what's done is done.
"Seems to be getting Dark, we should find a shelter," stated Catour, standing up and starting to move to a wrecked house which still had some roof. "Lets just make camp here. Still no f**king food though. Just try and get some sleep," so he sat up against a wall and closed his eyes.
Rachel to got down and tried to get some sleep.
"I'll just stay on guard then," said Falco. He was not tired, which to him seemed quite weird, seeing what had happened in the last day. He just thought of what the Russians had been doing, they had already blown up one place on the map, where next?
He stood up and walked out onto the street, looking at all the wrecked structures around him. He thought of how life was here before everything that had happened, before zombies, and realised that just about everybody who did live here at that time is most probably dead.
The pain in his leg had just about gone now, but Falco still had a slight limp. There was a grate in the middle of the road that lead to the sewer and it was open, Falco was just walking pasty it when suddenly something grabbed his foot and sent him tumbling to the floor.
"Gah s**t!"
It was pulling him in, pulling him into the sewers, Falco clawed on the pavement trying to stay on the surface, but it was too strong, and he finally let go, and he was falling, very shortly before splashing into the sewage water. He turned his face, and saw that it was yet another strong zombie and it was clawing at his leg.
"Not again," he thought.
Falco took out his pistol and aimed it at the zombies head, punching shots into its flesh, before it let go and its body went limp.
"S**t," he thought to himself.
He looked up and immediately realised that he would not be able to get up out of the sewers, the ladder that would lead him to the surface was wrecked and unusable. He would just have to find another way out.
Falco stood up and started to walk, quite slowly through the endless tunnels...
Yep you can interact with girls. First you say something that leads on to a certain something and then she says something that leads on to another certain something. Then you end up talking about her emotions and shopping for clothes. Then after that she leads you on more so you get excited and you guys go out to eat. Then rights as you're about to leave she says goodnight and you two part ways.
At least that what happens in my personal experiences.
halonachos wrote:Yep you can interact with girls. First you say something that leads on to a certain something and then she says something that leads on to another certain something. Then you end up talking about her emotions and shopping for clothes. Then after that she leads you on more so you get excited and you guys go out to eat. Then rights as you're about to leave she says goodnight and you two part ways.
At least that what happens in my personal experiences.
halonachos wrote:Yep you can interact with girls. First you say something that leads on to a certain something and then she says something that leads on to another certain something. Then you end up talking about her emotions and shopping for clothes. Then after that she leads you on more so you get excited and you guys go out to eat. Then rights as you're about to leave she says goodnight and you two part ways.
At least that what happens in my personal experiences.
Your doing it wrong.
That's what she said. And before y'all attack me for that, those four words in that combination is about sixty-percent of English school-humour. Deal with it.
Anyways, oh crap. Forgot the other thing I was going to say. Oh well. Event soon.
FM Ninja 048 wrote:What are you taking about, using skill and time to get women, chloroform and some duct-tape/rope is all a real man uses
I approve.
My own method is as follows.
Learn to play guitar (Bass),join band,meet girls,act brooding and aloof,girls attempt to nurture,many things occur,eventually marry one of the girls,more stuff happens,get divorced,repeat process.
...Wait...I think I may be doing it wrong as well.
Oh yeah, guys, I'm making a competition for you all!
You have until Friday to complete the task.
Task: Draw a picture of your character(s). This can be hand-drawn or done on a computer program, such as Paint. Then upload the image to the internet and post it.
Whoever has the best drawing, wins roleplay prizes, e.g. large weapon cache or survival coupons.
I honestly don't expect anyone to bother with this, but hey, some of you might want some coupons and/or in-game advantages/bonuses.
Some of you might just want to do it for fun, which is the best reason to do something. Usually. Maybe. Uh..
FM Ninja 048 wrote:What are you taking about, using skill and time to get women, chloroform and some duct-tape/rope is all a real man uses
I approve.
My own method is as follows.
Learn to play guitar (Bass),join band,meet girls,act brooding and aloof,girls attempt to nurture,many things occur,eventually marry one of the girls,more stuff happens,get divorced,repeat process.
...Wait...I think I may be doing it wrong as well.
Yeah, but at least your getting farther than me. I can't help it though I work at a toy store(the kid kind) so most of the girls there are underage, pregnant, married, in a relationship, or any combination of the former.
I go to a non-traditional university so most of the girls there follow the same basic rules, stupid non-traditional universities and letting unavailable women in.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Oh yeah, guys, I'm making a competition for you all!
You have until Friday to complete the task.
Task: Draw a picture of your character(s). This can be hand-drawn or done on a computer program, such as Paint. Then upload the image to the internet and post it.
Whoever has the best drawing, wins roleplay prizes, e.g. large weapon cache or survival coupons.
I honestly don't expect anyone to bother with this, but hey, some of you might want some coupons and/or in-game advantages/bonuses.
Some of you might just want to do it for fun, which is the best reason to do something. Usually. Maybe. Uh..
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Oh yeah, guys, I'm making a competition for you all!
You have until Friday to complete the task.
Task: Draw a picture of your character(s). This can be hand-drawn or done on a computer program, such as Paint. Then upload the image to the internet and post it.
Whoever has the best drawing, wins roleplay prizes, e.g. large weapon cache or survival coupons.
I honestly don't expect anyone to bother with this, but hey, some of you might want some coupons and/or in-game advantages/bonuses.
Some of you might just want to do it for fun, which is the best reason to do something. Usually. Maybe. Uh..
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Oh yeah, guys, I'm making a competition for you all!
You have until Friday to complete the task.
Task: Draw a picture of your character(s). This can be hand-drawn or done on a computer program, such as Paint. Then upload the image to the internet and post it.
Whoever has the best drawing, wins roleplay prizes, e.g. large weapon cache or survival coupons.
I honestly don't expect anyone to bother with this, but hey, some of you might want some coupons and/or in-game advantages/bonuses.
Some of you might just want to do it for fun, which is the best reason to do something. Usually. Maybe. Uh..
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Oh yeah, guys, I'm making a competition for you all!
You have until Friday to complete the task.
Task: Draw a picture of your character(s). This can be hand-drawn or done on a computer program, such as Paint. Then upload the image to the internet and post it.
Whoever has the best drawing, wins roleplay prizes, e.g. large weapon cache or survival coupons.
I honestly don't expect anyone to bother with this, but hey, some of you might want some coupons and/or in-game advantages/bonuses.
Some of you might just want to do it for fun, which is the best reason to do something. Usually. Maybe. Uh..
I already have survival coupons so MUAHAHAHAHAHA!
Yo coupons has expireddddddd
Scrazza wrote:I'll try my hand at it, Darko.
Sweet.
FITZZ wrote: Sounds like a fun idea Darko.
I'll give it a whirl.
[Resists temptation to repeat the most common source of English school-humour in relation to the second line of above quoted post]
In all seriousness, I'm glad y'all so enthusiastic.
Excellent.. excellend! My plan is coming together perfectly! MWahahahahahwheuiwhruiopwqhgaquiowfwfofhwfhwfh.
I mean. Uh. "Owhhh noooo! What haz I dun?!"
Mwaha. Ha.
In other news, lets place bets for when "The Biggie" is going to take place! The Biggie being the beginning of the main plot. Place yo bets! Survival coupons are accepted! Bet which day!
Day 4
Day 5
Day 6
Day 7
Day 8
Day 9
Day 10
Day 11.. oh no wait, nobody's gonna survive this long.
"that depends, why would we give out food away to someone we don't know in a time like this"
"cause you like me" he said, and started to lose his balancebefore toppeling into a heap.
"Angel! we got a live one, out the front gate" Ranger shouted down the radio "get your butt out here!"
Angel came running out of the main gate, Bourne followed her, his shotgun fixed on the collapsed newcomer.
"get him inside" Angel said "it's not safe out here"
"are you sure, he could be, you know...bitten" Bourne replyed looking a bit nervous
"that doesn't matter just now, just get him behind the gate!"
Bourne grabbed the man by the legs and Angel got the arms and they carried him behind the first set of gates. they went to go open the inner gates but were met with Hardie shaking his head at them
"treat him there, you're not bringing him inside unless you know for sure he's not gonna turn into one of them" Hardie said "i'll get you what you need from the APC when you need it"
Angel set to work on the newcomer, checking him over for bites and making sure nothing was broken. While Bourne paced round the cage, gun at the ready.
"he's not been bitten, he's just dehydrated, get me some of the water and an energy bar. Hardie rushed away to get the supplies while Angel proped the mans head up on her medkit, he was starting to come round and would probably want some questions anwsered.
"What the hell're you doing out here all on your own?" John asked. Nikolai shrugged. "Dunno, my parents are dead and, I dunno, I'm just trying to stay alive," he explained, speaking very quickly. John regarded the boy; barely half his own height, his rugged and smelly clothes draped over his clearly malnourished frame. The child held a beaten pistol loosely in one hand. How the hell had this pitiful creature survived for a year? Suddenly he felt the change coming. This little f*ck doesn't deserve to live, pathetic thing.
And with that, John whipped out his 18" 'knife' and grabbed the fourteen-year-olds' shoulder with his free left hand. Then he plunged the blade through the front of Nikolai's throat, blood spurting out of the wound. He ripped his blade out in a spray of glistening blood. With that, he turned away from the scene, and began walking in a random direction.
Nikolai lay in a large pool of his own blood, grasping his own throat even as he tried to draw breath. He failed. Tears swept down his face, mixing with the bright-red liquid around him. Somehow, he found the strength within himself to pick up his blood-coated pistol, the grip sticky. He aimed it at the back of the man who had done this, and pulled the trigger, again and again, five times the pistol roared, and five times did bullets rip into John, eager to end his life. What an odd idea, Nikolai thought, personification with bullets. Then he slumped down, blood filling his mouth even as he suffocated.
Karon wrote:
But why would he use that over his own weapon? Its far superior to an AK.
Your weapon:
CBJ MS LAW (Light Assault Weapon)
It shoots this:
6.5x25 CBJ
Effective range: up to 100M with 50m being "standard"
(Could not find a 100% accurate range, but everyone I read was shooting targets at 50M with one shooting at 100M.)
And this is my own personal AK47:
It shoots this: (and anything else I shove it in lol)
7.62x39
Effective Range: 300M with 150M being "standard"
Shall I post reloading/Velocity/Energy from my reloading manuals, or will you believe me when I say that overall, your weapon system is not superior to the AK47? Sure it is smaller and lighter with a higher ROF... but it shoots a much smaller round (bout the size of a 9mm), 1/3 the effective range, less energy and pen power at range, plus is nowhere near as reliable as the AK.
Of course, range is a dead factor in this case because we are in fething building.
He uses the weapon I gave him, lol. I realize the AK-47 is much better in the majority of situations, but in this situation, where we have lightly-armored opponents that aren't very highly trained, his weapon is much superior.
He uses the weapon I gave him, lol. I realize the AK-47 is much better in the majority of situations, but in this situation, where we have lightly-armored opponents that aren't very highly trained, his weapon is much superior.
I wouldn't say that the bikers aren't "highly trained"...most were RPed as ex-military,and hell...they're bikers FFS,fighting,shooting..damaging people is a way of life for them.
Meh,not like it really matters,most of 'em are dead now anyway.
Karon wrote:
Of course, range is a dead factor in this case because we are in fething building.
He uses the weapon I gave him, lol. I realize the AK-47 is much better in the majority of situations, but in this situation, where we have lightly-armored opponents that aren't very highly trained, his weapon is much superior.
Range has everything to do with a firearm. A weapon with higher range is a direct result of higher velocity and heavier bullet which results in higher energy transfer to your target.. which is what you are looking for because that energy transfer turns into (in laymens terms) a weapons penetration/knockdown power.
Take the 5.56 Nato round for example. Some hail it as the king of CQB, sadly though I would never EVER use one based of my own 1st hand experiences in Iraq because the rounds high velocity, yet tiny bullet (55grain) is designed against a target wearing light body armor. However when you shoot a dude wearing a bed sheet, you get a result called over penetration of the target. In laymens terms, this means that if you don't hit a vital on your target, it could take 2-4 rounds to drop the him because the round will not expand in your target and transfer near its max energy potential.
Heck, in the event above, the dude with the 12 guage technically should have pwnd face. Ultra powerfull round with both high knock down power and energy transfer (00 buck) and an unchoked area of coverage the size of a trash can lid. That is the reason damn near every entry team has at least one man equiped with one. Plus as an added perk you can use it to breech locked doors and make entry.
Karon wrote:
Of course, range is a dead factor in this case because we are in fething building.
He uses the weapon I gave him, lol. I realize the AK-47 is much better in the majority of situations, but in this situation, where we have lightly-armored opponents that aren't very highly trained, his weapon is much superior.
Range has everything to do with a firearm. A weapon with higher range is a direct result of higher velocity and heavier bullet which results in higher energy transfer to your target.. which is what you are looking for because that energy transfer turns into (in laymens terms) a weapons penetration/knockdown power.
Take the 5.56 Nato round for example. Some hail it as the king of CQB, sadly though I would never EVER use one based of my own 1st hand experiences in Iraq because the rounds high velocity, yet tiny bullet (55grain) is designed against a target wearing light body armor. However when you shoot a dude wearing a bed sheet, you get a result called over penetration of the target. In laymens terms, this means that if you don't hit a vital on your target, it could take 2-4 rounds to drop the him because the round will not expand in your target and transfer near its max energy potential.
Heck, in the event above, the dude with the 12 guage technically should have pwnd face. Ultra powerfull round with both high knock down power and energy transfer (00 buck) and an unchoked area of coverage the size of a trash can lid. That is the reason damn near every entry team has at least one man equiped with one. Plus as an added perk you can use it to breech locked doors and make entry.
The rounds, as I'm sure you read the same thing I did, are armor penetrating rounds, more than anything I've seen (though, maybe not you). He uses them with those gun because of its high ROF and relatively short range, they complement each other well with the rounds.
Its a dead point, as Dark doesn't give a feth, I just thought it was peculiar as to why he would use the AK instead of his. He wouldn't just fething drop his weapon as he "jogged" to the other side of the building.
I don't own an AK-47, the largest I've..."used" was an Uzi. I know full well that the AK is better than my weapon in the large majority of situations. But Patrick used that weapon for assassinations of important figures. The rounds going through any body armor and hitting him with so many he can't survive. Urban Warfare, not on a open desert in Iraq or Afganistan.
Let's work on another RP, shall we? It seems ages when someone posted a IC post.
____________________----________------
"Didi you bring the timber?" Jerith asked, not concerned about the death of Maria anymore.
"Nope." replied the old man, staring blankly to the ceilling.
"Hell." Red interveined. "There's an old logging camp not far from here.Robbie, take Spook, Jerith and Eddy with you. Take the truck, and hurry up."
Robbie just got up, waved the others to follow him, ans set ways.
Red Rat stayed with Fox, Helena and the odd Erol. There was something about him. Something he couldn't bring home. He would find that out.
...
outside, Robbie stepped in on the passengers seat of the truck, riding shotgun in the front. Eddy and Spook rode shotgun at the back with an open back door to the truck. Jerith took the wheel, and they started out for the logging site.
halonachos wrote: Patrick backed away and began reloading his weapon.
Saunders turned towards him and Patrick tossed aside his weapon in favor of one of his black rods. Saunders eyed him like a lion after prey and his intent poured from him. Saunders wanted Patrick dead.
And there's why Patrick doesn't have his gun anymore. Argument is now over.
halonachos wrote: Patrick backed away and began reloading his weapon.
Saunders turned towards him and Patrick tossed aside his weapon in favor of one of his black rods. Saunders eyed him like a lion after prey and his intent poured from him. Saunders wanted Patrick dead.
And there's why Patrick doesn't have his gun anymore. Argument is now over.
Have you ever considered a career in politics my friend?
Karon wrote: Urban Warfare, not on a open desert in Iraq...
Just so you know, that is 90% of the fighting in Iraq. Insurgents won't fight us in the open, they use the civilian population and the cities as meat shields.
As for Afg/, I have not been there yet, so I won't speak of it.
Felt I should point that out repeatedly until people tell me to shut up.
Shuddup.
@ jp
Holy son of a f*cked-up-spontaneous-drink-filled-sex-laden-teenage-late-night-partier! That is some serious firepower!
Although it's strange how I was talking to my dad earlier about guns and locked doors and carbines and whatnot.. say, you're not my dad are you? Because that would be awesome.
I jest. I just want your guns. Then I'll leave, and you can have your family back.
I would come all that way, my dad 'has' a shotgun but he can't keep it here untill he upgrades his cabniet so the hinges are on the inside. so I could probably make it over
Karon wrote: Urban Warfare, not on a open desert in Iraq...
Just so you know, that is 90% of the fighting in Iraq. Insurgents won't fight us in the open, they use the civilian population and the cities as meat shields.
As for Afg/, I have not been there yet, so I won't speak of it.
EDIT:
Guns Inbound!
Ah, I didn't realize that.
Most of the "action" I had seen was on T.V where news reporters tagged along with convoys. Most of the time that I saw they just stood in the mountains and shot at them from there, almost invisible.
"yet", LOL.
Quite a nice collection of guns you have there, mate.
FM Ninja 048 wrote:I would come all that way, my dad 'has' a shotgun but he can't keep it here untill he upgrades his cabniet so the hinges are on the inside. so I could probably make it over
P.s does haggis count for food
Really? I ran out of room in my safe, so I have several rifles leaning up against it. hahaha
I actuall cant wait to move come Feb so I can upgrade to a bigger safe.
And No, Haggis does not count as food.
Edit:
And I don't know who's family you have, but I sold mine for that broom handled mauser years ago.
With a few specialised exceptions, all firearms in the United Kingdom must be licensed on either a firearm certificate (FAC) or a shotgun certificate.
Shotguns (Section 2 Firearms under the 1968 Act as amended) are defined in UK law as smoothbore firearms with barrels not shorter than 24 inches (60 cm) and a bore not larger than 2 inches (5 cm) in diameter, no revolving cylinder, and either no magazine or a non-detachable magazine that is not capable of holding more than two cartridges.[6] This effectively gives a maximum three round overall capacity, while shotguns with a capacity exceeding 2+1 rounds are subject to a firearm certificate. Shotguns thus defined are subject to a slightly less rigorous certification process.
A firearm certificate differs from a shotgun certificate in that justification must be provided to the police for each firearm; these firearms are individually listed on the certificate by type, calibre, and serial number. A shotgun certificate similarly lists type, calibre and serial number, but permits ownership of as many shotguns as can be safely accommodated. To gain permission for a new firearm, a "variation" must be sought, for which a fee is payable, unless the variation is made at the time of renewal, or unless it constitutes a one-for-one replacement of an existing firearm which is to be disposed of. The certificate also sets out, by calibre, the maximum quantities of ammunition which may be bought/possessed at any one time, and is used to record the purchasing of ammunition (except,where ammunition is both bought, and used immediately, on a range under s11 or s15 of the Firearms Acts).
To obtain a firearm certificate, the police must be convinced that a person has "good reason" to own each weapon, and that they can be trusted with it "without danger to the public safety or to the peace". Under Home Office guidelines, firearms' licences are only issued if a person has legitimate sporting or work-related reasons for ownership. Since 1946, self-defence has not been considered a valid reason to own a firearm. The current licensing procedure involves: positive verification of identity, two referees of verifiable good character who have known the applicant for at least two years (and who may themselves be interviewed and/or investigated as part of the certification), approval of the application by the applicant's own family doctor, an inspection of the premises and cabinet where firearms will be kept and a face-to-face interview by a Firearms Enquiry Officer (FEO) also known as a Firearms Liaison Officer (FLO). A thorough background check of the applicant is then made by Special Branch on behalf of the firearms licensing department. Only when all these stages have been satisfactorily completed will a licence be issued.
Any person who has been sentenced to three years or more in prison is automatically banned for life from obtaining a firearms licence.[7] Similarly, persons applying for licences with recent, serious mental health issues will also be refused a certificate.
Any person holding a Firearm or Shotgun Certificate must comply with strict conditions regarding such things as safe storage. These storage arrangements are checked by the police before a licence is first granted, and on every renewal of the licence. A local police force may impose additional conditions on ownership, over and above those set out by law. Failure to comply with any of these conditions can mean forfeiture of the licence and surrender of any firearms to the police.
The penalty for possession of a prohibited firearm without a certificate is a maximum of ten years in prison and an uncapped fine. Unauthorised possession of most kinds of firearm attract a mandatory minimum of five years.[8]
In addition, the Violent Crime Reduction Act 2006 increased restrictions on the use, ownership, sale and manufacture of both airguns and imitation firearms.[9]
i'm gonna post my next IC tonight hopefully to make up for all this OT discussion
Hmmm,I'd love to do an IC post...but alas,my character is currently in the hands of (and at the mercy of) Dear old Darko.
So..I suppose it's on with the OT discussion for me...at least for the moment.
(i'm a but stuck on how to rezolve my current stuation at the minute)
The way that post is written sort of strikes me a funny...sort of like your asking me to "handle" a situation for you.
...But,to answer your question,yes I have a couple...but no where near the collection jp has, I've got a Mossberg 500 shotgun and a few handguns ( Colt 1911,Rossi .357 and a Taurus PT-92),just for target shooting and home protection.
I had an SKS,but sold it a few years back...now I really regret it,I'm considering picking up a Ruger Mini-14.
everybody I know from america seems to have guns, i've only met one american who didn't have a gun be he was a german banker living in DC so thats understandable. I'm soo gonna come to adepticon, but make a holiday out of it and fit a range-day in somewhere
everybody I know from america seems to have guns, i've only met one american who didn't have a gun be he was a german banker living in DC so thats understandable. I'm soo gonna come to adepticon, but make a holiday out of it and fit a range-day in somewhere
Where I live ( The American South) most of us are raised around firearms, I believe the statistics are something in the neighborhood of 1 in 3 houses in the South have at least one firearm in it.
If you do visit the States I'd encourage doing some target shooting,it really is a lot of fun.
The only thing I can tell you about mine is that it was also manufactured in '43. Where it was used, I don't know.
I did manage to see the millionth M1 produced in person though. It has chrome like metal and a wood that looks like it was tiger striped naturally. It really was a beautiful gun.
Wow lots have happened, characters dead, survival life goes on, but wait a minute, no character is safe, for the terrible dark power of Dark is unmatched, and he slaughters all who fails to regularly post...
Anyway sorry for not being around had a sleepover round one of ma mates house.
halonachos wrote:There are guns that a house should not be without.
1) A 12 gauge shotgun
2) SKS 3) M1
4)Mini 14
5)Any bolt action rifle from WW2 save for the Arisaka.
6).357 handgun or revolver
7)A .22 caliber rifle
As to the SKS, everybody has an SKS. I do, my dad does, my neighbor does, his neighbor does, my grandpa does, my uncle does...
Nice M1 jp, my dad's is almost a dark purple wood with a lot of pitting. He likes it though so it saves me from buying a new stock for him.
Well..I still have two of the firearms on your list...so I guess I'm ok
Concerning the SKS,the were available at a ridiculous level from the mid 80's to mid 90's, I bought the one I had at a gun show for about $100.00 and it looked like this.
Falco carefully stalked through the tunnels, looking out for any signs of enemies, his M9 drawn. He knew he should have just stayed with the other two and be on guard duty, and because he failed to do that, he was now in this mess.
He sighed, then stopped deadly still, he could hear something, behind him, gettiung quicker, and quicker, and closer, and closer. Falco turned around, coming around one of the bends in the tunnel, were dozens and dozens of zombies, big strong ones, thin agile ones, all kinds of them, and they were after one thing. Falco.
He turned his head back around, and started sprinting, sprinting, spriniting, trying to get away from the oncoming tide of zombies, he turned a corner, and then...
"Oh s**t!"
There were piles and piles of debris blocking his path.
Falco turned around, and once again saw the full might of the zombie tide, getting closer and closer towards him. His heart was pumping, sweat drenching his face under that mask, and he was scared, because without help he knew one thing.
That he would die, right here, and right now. So he decided to try and make one final stand. He took out his pistol in both hands, and started punching bullets into the oncoming zombies. But even with this rage, and firepower, they were getting closer, and closer towards Falco, and they would soon be upon him...
Suddenly the ceiling explodes and debris falls down into the sewers, crushing zombies, and sending them running about, knocking into each other, and falling down. Falco looks up into the morning light, and sees grenades sent down, killing more zombies, before one man drops down into the sewers, taking out his twin uzis, and sending bullets into the confused zombies. He is white skinned, is wearing a leather jacket, blue jeans, and dirty white trainers.
Then more people start dropping into the sewers, each one different than the one before, and they start releasing hell onto the zombies. Until there are about 8 of them. The zombies are shot down until there are none left. Then each of the mysterious allies turn around and stares at Falco. The one who had first jumped down says to him with a smile.
Hmm I was just gonna explain when I did my next RP bit but what the heck
Well these people are a bit combat crazy, they always wanna be in a fight and win it. When they were walking through Pineville, observing the surroundings etc they suddenly heard some gunfire down below, and the groaning of a large group of zombies, they had also heard the "oh s**t" bit that Falco said, so they decided to blow a hole in the ground (as there was no manhole or whatever) to cause a little destruction before jumping in to lend a hand. They knew they were'nt helping a Russian as the "oh s**t" bit was not in a Russian accent at all.
Question: What are the chances that a group of combat crazed wanna be mercanaries with enough explosives to blow a hole through to the sewers, would be sauntering through Pineville, just as Falco was trapped, and more so, how did they survive getting slightly...blown up?
I mean if you read Silver's post I'm sure you can assertain that it was a bit flukey that his character survived at all. To have such a small dent on the human population was probably not Darks plan when he launched a couple bombs at Pine.
"What the..." Jerith stopped the truck, Robbie started cursing.
Robbie had been asleep for a while, now rudely awakened, he was a bit agrivated.
"step out, ask what he wants." Jerith told Robbie.
Robbie got out, and started walking towards him. It was just a boy, but his hand was hovering above his holster. So Robbie too precautionary measurments and got one of his Baretta's out. He aimed the pistol on the boy, who wisely put his hand away from the holster.
Spook and Eddy had come out of the truck, wanting to know what was on.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Robbie yelled over to the kid. " and don't play games!"
I to am having a bit of difficulty determining what sort of charge/breaching device/etc,could have been used to punch a hole into the street in which the resulting concussion would not have killed Falco....or at the very least rendered him deaf (most likely with multiple broken bones and internal trauma from the blast as well).
Blowing a large hole through several feet of asphalt would require a substantial explosion,one that anyone nearby would find lethal.
Because as I said there was no manhole or whatever so they had to get through another way, they have been salvaging A LOT for the past time so they have quite a few explosives, they try and determine where the gun fire is coming from so they don't hurt Falco, then they blow a hole in the ground with some explosives, in the place a bit away from where Falco was. Throughout the past year there has been a lot happening, the ground has been weakened, and considering that the Russians decided to blow up Pineville, it has been weakened further. The rest is easy, jump down and kill the zombies.
Of course for a few seconds there was ringing in Falco's ears, but there was no lasting damage.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Robbie yelled over to the kid. " and don't play games!"
Oh man this isn't going good" he tought to himself. "Why don't I think before doing anything.
"Hi, i'm dietn" he Said. He could almost smack himself in the face after saying that. Because saying "hi" is always intimidating. And ofcourse a definite sign of manhood.
"What do you want" the man replied. "uhmmm .... I just wanted to get some food. I'm willing to trade if you want?"
Shas'ui T'au Kais wrote:Because as I said there was no manhole or whatever so they had to get through another way, they have been salvaging A LOT for the past time so they have quite a few explosives, they try and determine where the gun fire is coming from so they don't hurt Falco, then they blow a hole in the ground with some explosives, in the place a bit away from where Falco was. Throughout the past year there has been a lot happening, the ground has been weakened, and considering that the Russians decided to blow up Pineville, it has been weakened further. The rest is easy, jump down and kill the zombies.
Of course for a few seconds there was ringing in Falco's ears, but there was no lasting damage.
I could accept deterioration through neglect and structural weakening due to the previous Russian bombing as factors as to the ease of breaching. So long as Falco was a reasonably safe distance from the blast point
Ey ey ey ey! I've been re-reading the entire event just now for a good [insert time] now! Before I start writing, though, Ima take a break, and paint some spacemans.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Ey ey ey ey! I've been re-reading the entire event just now for a good [insert time] now! Before I start writing, though, Ima take a break, and paint some spacemans.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Ey ey ey ey! I've been re-reading the entire event just now for a good [insert time] now! Before I start writing, though, Ima take a break, and paint some spacemans.
Carry on Darko...carry on.
No spacemans painted. TV watched. Chocolate eaten. Story writeth.
" are there more russians coming?" Fox asked Helena.
Fox sat at the table, having a meal. Red rat sat opposite to Fox, eyeballing erol, who, still, was lying there looking at the ceiling. Erol hasn't moved nor spoke since he re entered after losing Maria.
Helena looked up at Red Rat, to see if he was going notice her hèatefuèll stare at him.
FITZZ wrote: I to am having a bit of difficulty determining what sort of charge/breaching device/etc,could have been used to punch a hole into the street in which the resulting concussion would not have killed Falco....or at the very least rendered him deaf (most likely with multiple broken bones and internal trauma from the blast as well).
Blowing a large hole through several feet of asphalt would require a substantial explosion,one that anyone nearby would find lethal.
Correct.
You would need to set off at least two shaped charges roughly 45+ pounds in order to blast that kind of hole into the sewer. First one would take out the road and dig the initial hole down to the concrete/rebar encased sewer (or metal pip pending on where you live) and the second to finish the job. And the over pressure this would generate in that tight of a space would kill anyone inside the sewer.
First charge blows a hole into the ground as shown below.
Second charge is lowered to the bottom of said hole and you end up with somthing like this:
Now trust me when I say, this stuff isn't exactly common. You can't find it on the open market, and you have to go to an active duty base to secure it for training.
As for damage, you would lucky if you lived and if you did you would be stone deaf. A small water impulse charge as shown here has the ability to blow out a persons ear drums... and thats maybe 1lb of C4 explosive.
"Yes - the first group was small and came to identify survivors, potential safe zones and targets of interest. The second wave, which I am part of, came to try to round up survivors, set up safe zones, and retreive the targets of interest."
Helena sat back in her chair, trying to decide how much of her scant knowledge of the operation to tell Fox. She looked at the food Fox was eating and tried to ignore her stomach, realising that "Red Rat" probably would not want her to eat.
Sighing she continued "I don't know much more than that I am afraid."
Tombstone glared at Patrick. His entire being, until Patrick's death was achieved, was devoted towards that goal. No, that was not it. His goal was not to just simply kill Patrick; it was to impliment his suffering. With one hand, he slowly drew back his jacket, and with the other, he unsheathed a bowie knife. He reversed the grip on his blade, holding it downwards, and then moved into a combat stance.
Patrick just stood there, watching unmoved as his opponant readied for the fight. His face was totally blank; no trace of emotion - no hate, no resentment, no anger. His features didn't even betray the contempt that he felt for the man opposite him. He decided weigh-up his opponent - the biker had about three or four inches of height on him, not to mention body mass: he knew that he was but a snake next to an Ox. But that snake was more agile, and far more deadly. He slowly drew his sword and held it infront of his face, before pointing it towards his enemy, as an almost undetectable taunt, perhaps, or maybe just an invitation for the oaf to jump on his blade.
Tombstone spat on the floor. "Enough pleasantries, lets get to the point already," Tombstone said sarcastically. He calmed himself slightly, realising that running at Patrick screaming with his knife held high would achieve little more than a messy end for him. He knew he had to figure out a way to approach Patrick without getting instantly skewered.
The tension was unbarable. Deadman, Snyder and Theron stood up, not wanting to miss this reckoning.
"Theron, take Snyder and find a vehicle," Patrick ordered, not breaking eye-contact with Tombstone for a second. Theron helped Snyder up and they left.
Then Tombstone spoke. "Deadman, get some men in here and get that damned Doctor to patch up our people." Deadman exited with a run, off to find help.
"What are you waiting for, biker, make a move," Patrick taunted. Tombstone smirked. "You think I'm going to run at you when you've got that thing?"
"No, I suppose not. In that case, I shall take lead," he replied, before raising his sword two-handed and running at Tombstone. It was oddly silent, Tombstone thought as he jumped back and avoided the first blow, the sword sweeping down where his right shoulder had been moments before, but without hitting the ground as one would have expected from such a swing. Patrick immediately twisted the blades' facing and brought it up in another swing, which Tombstone dodged once again. Patrick held the sword one-handed now, and he swung in a wide arc at Tombstone's chest. The biker moved back slightly, and bit his tongue, knowing what was about to happen. Even as the tip of the blade cut his chest and came out covered in blood, Tombstone had already begun moving, despite the searing pain coming from his chest. He stepped inside Patrick's guard and slammed a fist into his stomach, to little affect however, due to Patrick's armor. Seemingly unhindered by the hard blow, Patrick delivered a right-hook to Tombstone's face even as he brought his blade up and slammed the hilt into the bikers' face, breaking his nose. Tombstone stumbled back a step, and Patrick kicked him in the stomach with his right leg. Even as he reared over from the blow, Tombstone grabbed the leg with his free hand and pulled Patrick over. The man rolled sideways and began picking himself up when Tombstone slammed into him, sending him crashing to the floor with a hard thud. His sword fell out of his grip and went flying out of sight. Tombstone raised his bowie knife and stabbed it through Patrick's upper back, causing him to actually scream - or maybe it was more of a roar. Patrick reached for the M9 tucked into his trousers that he had taken off Gary's dead body, even as Tombstone stabbed him repeatedly. He continued screaming in agony, but pulled out his pistol. He elbowed Tombstone in the face, stunning him for a few precious seconds. Patrick wriggled onto his back underneath Tombstone's massive frame and brought up his feet. With a kick, Tombstone was sent flying backwards, and onto the floor. Patrick raised the pistol one-handed, and groaned in pain as he lifted himself upright slightly. Tombstone's eyes widened as he saw the gun aimed at him.
"Oh, sh*t," he grumbled as Patrick pulled the trigger and a bullet sped through the air towards him. It penetrated his flesh, as bullets do, and slammed into one of his higher ribs, breaking it in half. It continued on, only just missing the bikers' heart by scant centimetres. Tombstone fell back with a groan as Patrick fired again, sending another shot into his stomach.
Patrick moaned uncharacteristically as he dropped the pistol. He slowly crawled towards Tombstone, blood pouring from the deep wounds in his back and trailing on the floor. He eventually reached the biker, and the two men just lay, looking at each other.
"Now you know pain," Patrick whispered before falling onto his back, eyes closed and breathing shallow. "I'll see you in hell, you dick," Tombstone replied as he closed his eyes.
Outside, another battle had already begun.
----
You'll all just have to wait until part 5 to find out what happens in the end, guys!
Here, ill save you the trouble so we all can get this dang show on the road.
Tombstone and Patrick lay on the floor bleeding and gasping for air from their struggle.
"I'll see you in hell, you dick," Tombstone replied and limply punched Patrick in the shoulder, suffering from sheer exhaustion.
"Idiot" he gasped "I'll teach you the meaning of pain." and also threw a limp punch into the side of Tombstone.
The two men laid on their backs next to each other trying to gain some form of composure. Suddenly something could be heard moving behind them in the now empty rec room. Both men groaned from pain and exhaustion as they rotated their broken bodies to face the new sound.
The bullet ridden and bleeding form of Saunders was holding the broken form of Tasha in one hand. Upon the monsters face was written the song of sorrow for his friend, and a single tear welled up and rolled down his cheek. With a mighty sweep of his arm, he cleared the bar top of the broken glass and wooden splinters that littered its surface and laid his friend down upon it.
Turning suddenly toward the two men, his expression quickly changed from that of sorrow to pure unhindered rage which could be seen quickly building up to a header.
"Oh gak..."
The two men started to crawl as best they could away from him, pulling their broken bodies along with their arms leaving streaks of crimson blood behind them.
Saunders roared in pure fury and grabbed hold of one of the upturned, bullet ridden pool tables. With a loud screech the table protested as it was dragged across the rec room floor toward the two men.
Patrick stopped and looked up into the blazing orange eyes of Saunders as the monster stood over him looking down at him. No emotion on his bloody and beaten face as he suddenly reached out and grabbed his sword and lashed out, plunging it deep into the monsters chest. The blade cut deep into his flesh and burst from his backside. Saunders roared and twisted his frame, the blade catching against his ribs and the weakened Patrick could not keep his grip on the blade and was disarmed.
"MONGO SMASH!!" Saunders bellowed and with the sword still in his side he lifted the pool table high over head and with both hands brought it down top side down onto Patrick with all the strength he could muster.
Tombstone was rocked by the vibrations sent through the building as the pool table was smashed up and down against the floor several times over sending broken glass and wood splinters flying everywhere and a thick dust filled the air.
He coughed and tried to peer through the haze as the pounding stopped toward his most hated enemy. As the dust settled, all he could see was the ruined form of a pool table half buried in the floor, a fine red mist surrounding it.
He looked around and he could just make out the form of Saunders. He had limped back toward the bar where Tasha had been lain and collapsed near her, the sword still protruding from his form.
Drifting in from outside, the sounds of battle could be heard over the now silent rec center.
Karon wrote:Beautiful, though, I wouldn't know, but can a bowie knife thrust by a strong man pierce bullet-proof vests? I'm not familiar.
Because my vest does cover my back and front as do all military issue vests. I realize it won't change the outcome, I'm just curious for my own sake.
Actually, yes.
Any knife can just about pen a "bullet" proof vest. They offer no stab protection at all. In fact, if you want protection you have to special order a vest just for that, and the US prison system uses them alot.
And in case you were wondering, a stab vest offers no ballistic protection.
Robbie took in the boy in front of him. He was harmless.
"Go ahead into pine Ville. We don't have any food on us, and you can't come with us. We'llbe be back by nightfall. Just look for an air raid shelter, and say to Red Rat, that Robbie sent you."
Robbie waved his gun down the road to Pine Ville, Now dubbed Boom Boom Town. He holstered his beretta, and hopped back in the truck whitout giving Dietn chance of speaking.
"Let's head out for the lumber camp." Robbie said to Jerith.
Shas'ui T'au Kais wrote:Hmm, was not expecting both to die, but anyway post-apocoliptic life goes on.
Neither Tombstone nor Patrick have died...(unless you count jps post ).
Tombstone has taken a bullet to the chest,which IIRC passed through,serious wound...but not fatal,as well as a bullet in the stomach,extremely painful,but not immediately fatal (takes a while for a bullet wound in the stomach to kill you in many cases.)
Patrick has been repeatedly stabbed (not exactly sure how many times or in what exact locations) but is still alive as well.
Oh yeah,to answer Karon's question, tactical body armour wouldn't stop a knife,especially one with a foot long blade being driven home again and again by a crazed biker consumed with blood lust.
Helena pointed to the bandages wrapping her head "My ears were hurt during the missile strike, but I learnt International Signing while I was at University in Moscow."
"You're Russian" Dietn exclaimed in surprise before signing it as well.
Helena nodded, careful to wait until Dietn had signed before responding, trying to keep her knowledge of English secret for a while longer...
Very well, though I would like to clarify: I've been shot and stabbed before, and neither is more lethal than the other if they hit the same place. I'm guessing your knife hit my lungs or around it several times, which is pretty bad. My bullet's hit your stomach area, which could have hit a variety of organs, and your ribs, which no doubt hit either your heart or a surrounding organ. I am in my second year of Med-school, so I should know simple human anatomy, LOL.
Very well, though I would like to clarify: I've been shot and stabbed before, and neither is more lethal than the other if they hit the same place. I'm guessing your knife hit my lungs or around it several times, which is pretty bad. My bullet's hit your stomach area, which could have hit a variety of organs, and your ribs, which no doubt hit either your heart or a surrounding organ. I am in my second year of Med-school, so I should know simple human anatomy, LOL.
I'm not dieing without you, Fitzz. ^.^
Knife damage and bullet damage are two different things. That's what I learned in my EMT class. First there's the massive amount of kinetic energy in the bullet compared to a knife and the fact that a bullet can come in a variety of shapes and sizes, full metal jackets puncture and hollow points shatter. We'll have to ask jp about that to be sure though, I know that most air marshals use hollow point because they are designed to stop and spread in the body.
As far as being stabbed or shot, I've only been stabbed in the neck with a pencil so a pencil is the deadliest thing in my inventory right now.
Very well, though I would like to clarify: I've been shot and stabbed before, and neither is more lethal than the other if they hit the same place. I'm guessing your knife hit my lungs or around it several times, which is pretty bad. My bullet's hit your stomach area, which could have hit a variety of organs, and your ribs, which no doubt hit either your heart or a surrounding organ. I am in my second year of Med-school, so I should know simple human anatomy, LOL.
I'm not dieing without you, Fitzz. ^.^
Knife damage and bullet damage are two different things. That's what I learned in my EMT class. First there's the massive amount of kinetic energy in the bullet compared to a knife and the fact that a bullet can come in a variety of shapes and sizes, full metal jackets puncture and hollow points shatter. We'll have to ask jp about that to be sure though, I know that most air marshals use hollow point because they are designed to stop and spread in the body.
As far as being stabbed or shot, I've only been stabbed in the neck with a pencil so a pencil is the deadliest thing in my inventory right now.
A small pack of death.
Lol, I was just joking, I realize that a bowie knife has a much different impact than a bullet, but I didn't think we were going to go into how much damage a foot long bowie knife would do when inserted into your back cavity, to a bullet to the "chest area" and "stomach area"
Too vague unless Dark wants to give specific organs that were hit.
Very well, though I would like to clarify: I've been shot and stabbed before, and neither is more lethal than the other if they hit the same place. I'm guessing your knife hit my lungs or around it several times, which is pretty bad. My bullet's hit your stomach area, which could have hit a variety of organs, and your ribs, which no doubt hit either your heart or a surrounding organ. I am in my second year of Med-school, so I should know simple human anatomy, LOL.
I'm not dieing without you, Fitzz. ^.^
Actually IIRC,gunshot wounds would be worse due to the impact trauma from the velocity of the round and the wound Chanel the round would leave,been a while since I studied up on combat wound care,so I may not be entirely accurate.
Now,In Darkos event he stated that the No.1 round impacted on Tombstones ribs and missed his heart by "centimeters",so...bad wound.but not immediately fatal,No.2 round hit Tombstone in the stomach,as you said,that could have hit a number of vital organs ..or..not.
...And,since the extent/location of the knife wounds was never revealed in the event,Patrick could have a whole bunch of very deep,but non life threatening wounds....or he could have two punctured lungs,a liver that's been sliced in half and kidneys that have been reduced to mush...
...Who knows?
As far as who's dying...might be you...might be me...might be both of us...or neither,guess we'll have to wait and see.
Very well, though I would like to clarify: I've been shot and stabbed before, and neither is more lethal than the other if they hit the same place. I'm guessing your knife hit my lungs or around it several times, which is pretty bad. My bullet's hit your stomach area, which could have hit a variety of organs, and your ribs, which no doubt hit either your heart or a surrounding organ. I am in my second year of Med-school, so I should know simple human anatomy, LOL.
I'm not dieing without you, Fitzz. ^.^
Actually IIRC,gunshot wounds would be worse due to the impact trauma from the velocity of the round and the wound Chanel the round would leave,been a while since I studied up on combat wound care,so I may not be entirely accurate. Now,In Darkos event he stated that the No.1 round impacted on Tombstones ribs and missed his heart by "centimeters",so...bad wound.but not immediately fatal,No.2 round hit Tombstone in the stomach,as you said,that could have hit a number of vital organs ..or..not.
...And,since the extent/location of the knife wounds was never revealed in the event,Patrick could have a whole bunch of very deep,but non life threatening wounds....or he could have two punctured lungs,a liver that's been sliced in half and kidneys that have been reduced to mush...
...Who knows?
As far as who's dying...might be you...might be me...might be both of us...or neither,guess we'll have to wait and see.
All will be revealed.. although if either Patrick or Tombstone suffer fatal wounds, then that is because someone else decided to make it so.
Edit: although if either Patrick or Tombstone HAVE suffered fatal wounds
Patrick gritted his teeth as he pulled his rod against the beast-things' throat with all his strength, but Saunders elbowed him in the stomach, grabbed him and pulled him infront of him, then kicked him in the stomach, sending him sprawling onto his back and his rod flying out of sight. Deadman raised his AK-47 with a grin, but Tombstone - barely contained rage rising from within him - swatted the weapon down. "No! He's mine!" He shouted. Deadman nodded respectfully, but he failed to hide his slight surprise. Before Tombstone could take another step forward, Saunders was already on Patrick again, lifting him by the throat above himself. Patrick, realising the futility of trying to release the grip around his throat and that his neck would be snapped in mere seconds, punched Saunders in the face, once, twice, left, right. He followed up with a kick to the stomach, but Saunders threw him into the nearby wall with a thud before he could strike again. He grunted in pain, and when he tried to get up, he slopped back down heavily; winded and stunned. Saunders, or whatever had been Saunders, advanced once again towards Patrick.
Just then, the fire-exit door on the opposite side of the room burst open with a slam, and four men ran in, guns raised. Everyone's attention turned towards the new-comers as the first two opened up on full-auto with assault rifles into the back of the Saunders-thing. Round after round slammed into Saunders, who groaned loudly in pain and surprise, blood flying in tiny explosions all over his right side, chest and stomach as dozens of bullets blasted into his flesh before he collapsed heavily to the floor. Tasha screamed, "no!" before drawing her combat-magnum and putting three shots through one of the men, who slumped to the floor with a scream of agony.
The other two newcomers had started laying down covering fire as soon as they had entered, forcing the bikers to scramble for cover, even Tombstone in his rage-fuelled state realised the importance of self-preservation in relation to the furtherance of his goals. T-Rex and Tombstone found themselves together, over-turning a metal table, a dozen drinks falling to the floor and smashing in a glass and liquid blasts, the sound of it drowned out by the sound of weapons-fire. T-Rex risked a glance around the side of the table, letting off a few wild bursts from his M4 before ducking back behind cover. Rounds ricocheted off the other side of their cover, each with a metallic clunk or ping.
Tasha was about to switch aim when several shots sailed into her from the second gunman, entering and exiting through her stomach, and she collapsed with a scream to the floor, next to Halon who was still dazed from his knock and all of the sudden weapons fire. He was still aware enough to grab Tasha, who still tightly clutched her pistol, into cover. "Sh*t!" he shouted to himself from behind a pool table.
The three active newcomers pushed over chairs, tables, lamps and anything else that could provide an ounce of cover. They all reloaded, spent clips clunking to the floor and fresh magazines taking their place. The bikers sent shots in their general direction, but none were hit. The three men managed to get together to speak. "Theron, Snyder, give me covering fire, I'm going to get The Captain!" Johnathon said. The two men nodded at his orders and moved to take up firing positions, to then let off short, controlled bursts of suppressing fire. Johnathon crouched and began to move towards Patrick, grimacing as he passed the body of Gary. A year. A whole damn year they'd known each other. And they'd had a good year. He sighed in relief, letting a small smile slip onto his face as he saw the chest of the bleeding man rising slowly and painfully, the body shuddering with each painful breath. "Gary, just stay with us! That's an order damnit!" He called and then he continued on. He broke cover and ran towards Patrick, shooting towards the bikers' cover in the hopes that it'd keep their heads, and guns, down for awhile longer. He reached Patrick, and helped him up. "Thank you, Sergeant," Patrick said flatly, commending his as-of-recent follower. Johnathon grinned, "any time, boss." "Lets go," Patrick said, though he already knew the order was unnecessary. As he began running back to cover, he glanced across the room, and his eyes met with Halon's for a fleeting few seconds. In those eyes, he recognised the pain of dual loyalties. And the pain of being thrown across a room. Then the moment was over, and they were almost there.
"We got runners!" Ajax shouted, from his position behind a minifridge. Tombstone didn't stop to acknowledge the information and immediately stood, pistols raised. He fired shot after shot at his hated enemy, several bullets missing by mere inches. One clanked off Patrick's body armour, of which he could only assume had been military-issue that had saved the man's life on so many times. He roared as he was cheated yet again by that damnable body-armour, but was forced to duck behind cover again as a hail of bullets passed over his head. Then the suppressing fire stopped.
Patrick and Johnathon dived back behind cover, and Johnathon called a cease-fire. "We're low on ammo!" Theron called. "We've also got a man down," Johnathon informed Patrick, who nodded. "Very well, it seems the situation is quite grave." "With all due respect sir, I think we should retreat! We've probably only have about half a dozen clips left between us, as well as our handguns, but we're outnumbered as well." "Your desire to preserve the unit shows merit, Sergeant, but you do not consider the wider battle. We retreat now, and we'll be hounded by those fools until we're gone or dead, both of which are just about equally bad. If the few must suffer so that the many may prevail, then so be it. Acceptable losses, but sacrifice will not be forgotten. We make our stand here, and either we die, or our enemies die. One way or another, this fued must end here and now - it cannot go on any longer." Johnathon nodded, but said nothing for a moment, gazing idly at the floor. Then he looked up. "Yes. Yes sir," he replied. Patrick turned, and crept towards Gary as fast as possible. When he reached the fallen man, who was somehow still clinging to life, he took two rifle clips, the M16 and the M9 that the man had on him. He then returned to Johnathon who had just told Theron and Snyder that they were to fight.
"Lets end this," Patrick said with sinister finality.
Tombstone couldn't have agreed more.
Halon dispaired. Many people - people he had known over the last year - were dead now, because of him. He couldn't save them. He had failed, as their guardian, as their protector. As their saviour. "I can't do this anymore," he quietly whispered to himself, holding back tears that had been stressing to get out for a long time now, "I can't do it." He practically had a mini-war on his hands - between people he both had loyalties to. Tombstone and his bikers, they had met a whole year ago, and had survived nukes, zombies and crime lords for four, was it five days? He forgot. And yet Patrick, he had 'befriended' him just yesterday. That strange man, with all those piercings, and that voice - always emotionless, and what he did to that dead girl.. it made him shudder.
It was clear to him now where his loyalties lay. All this would only end with Patrick's death, and if some people; his people, got in the way, well, they couldn't be spared. Nothing could, nothing must prevent this. He looked down at Tasha, who had slipped into unconsciousness, and the blood that was pooling around her slowly. He looked at his bloodied hands. He grimaced and retched, almost feeling like he was responsible for this atrocity, when he knew it was not so. There was only one man responsible for this, and that was because he had brainwashed some good people into doing it. In his name. Reaching down, Halon delicately uncurled Tasha's rigid fingers, and picked up her Magnum.
"Hold them here. Keep their attention focused on yourselves," Patrick said. "Why, sir?" Johnathon asked. "Because I'm going to flank them, hit them from the rear." Johnathon did not smile, he merely nodded, he had become accustomed to killing; killing the undead. But killing humans was an altogether different matter. But then he remembered Gary. Bastards. He spat on the floor as an unseen gesture towards their enemies. Halon was his friend, but he had been losing it for awhile now. What they needed now, more than ever, was a strong leader, one who could keep them safe. Patrick was that man. But at what cost would his leadership and protection come at? Would more people die first? said a small, doubtful part of his mind. Of course more people will die! he retorted to the doubtful part of his mind, those troublemaker bikers will die! But despite his brave words, Johnathon actually wondered if his doubts could be correct. He shook his head to clear his mind. His doubts did not matter now; come what may, first he had to survive this. He had chosen his side, and so had the others. He raised his AK-47 and nodded to the others.
"Start firing in twenty-five seconds," Patrick ordered. Then he immediately dropped prone, and began crawling towards the fire-exist. 20 seconds. He was almost out now. 16 seconds. He was out. 12 Seconds. He jumped up at began running around the side of the compound, to the front. 3 seconds...
Tombstone waved Ajax and Woolly over. "They've stopped firing. I don't have a clue in f*ck why, but they have. So they've either run out of ammo, or more likely, they're up to something." Ajax piped up, "so you've got a plan up your sleeve as well?" Tombstone nodded. "We have advantage in numbers, and I think we can count on Halon. But he's a bit of a wild card right now, so we're gonna focus on what we got-" "guns?" T-Rex chimed in. Everyone looked at him. "What? We do have more guns than them." "Whatever," Tombstone said. "Back to the point, I think we should flank 'em. Woolly, you're gonna run up round the right and blast their cover with your shotgun. Ajax, T-Rex, go left. Deadman, you're with me. We're going round the outside." Woolly racked his shotgun slide. "Sounds good to me," he grinned. "Lets paste these guys," Ajax said. Tombstone grinned, the one thing no one would ever take away from them until they were all dead was their fighting spirit. "Lets move!" Tombstone ordered. He and Deadman ran back outside through the main entrance. Woolly headed right, past the minifridge, and slowly approached "the enemy lines", shotgun held up, ready to fire. Ajax and T-rex slipped lithely around past a sofa and over an overturned bookcase. They came to a stop behind the drinks counter. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about," Ajax said happily. "What the hell're you on about?" T-Rex asked. Ajax opened a low-down cabinet with transparent doors, and pulled out a glass bottle. "A good year," Ajax mumbled happily as he popped the cork and took a long swig of the ancient beverage. T-Rex just watched in amazement as Ajax emptied the entire thing. "Good stuff," he rasped. "I can tell," T-Rex replied.
"Psst!" "What?" Halon said in confusion, looking at Tasha. "Psst!" Halon rolled his eyes at his stupidity and slowly turned, and saw one of the bikers a few metres away, almost completely concealed behind a chair. The biker shot him a questioning look, and Halon merely nodded, then filled up Tasha's Magnum with fresh bullets before picking up his M9. Just then, Patrick's lackeys got up and sprayed the entire area where the bikers had been mere moments ago with bullets. They stopped firing when they realised that nobody was there.
"What the f*ck?" Johnathon said, before he jumped, startled, at the sound of a large boom. And another. He whipped around to his horror, he saw one of the bikers running towards him, repeatedly firing his shotgun. A wooden table was hit, and it exploded, sending wooden fragmentation flying everywhere. Snyder was grazed on his left arm, and he whelped even as he began firing at his attacker. But the wooden fragment had put him off and moved his aim, which gave Woolly enough time to hit the deck and slide behind the pool table in the centre of the room. He began sliding fresh shells into his shotgun. Halon jumped up, his face devoid of all emotion as he shot from both of his pistols. Seconds later, Ajax and T-Rex opened up as well, respective SMG and M4 firing a hail of bullets at their enemies. Theron aimed at Halon, but hesitated, and decided to duck down behind cover again as a storm of bullets flew over their heads. In what surely must have been the luckiest break in his life, two of Halon's pistol bullets slammed into Snyder's AK-47, breaking it clean in two. He fell back onto his as$ from the force of it. He cradled his wounded arm momentarily, and cursed at the pain. Then he drew his .32 Revolver and held it in his uninjured right arm.
Johnathon was breathing heavily. He had narrowly avoided being shot by the two bikers on the left, and he fumbled for a fresh clip, his last clip, in desperation. He breathed in deeply, remembering that he was in charge here now. And with that, he decided that they had well and truly been routed. To stay and fight would be suicide, and if they could perhaps escape then that was a much better option.
Just then, Woolly stood up and vaulted the pool table, and ran forward.
Legs appeared to Johnathon's right, and he instinctively slammed his rifle butt into the nearest one, hitting bone on the mans' left foot, causing it to bend unnaturely and its owner to scream in anger and pain as he fell over forward. Johnathon held his rifle like a club and leapt at the downed man with a scream of fury on his lips.
Patrick heard the rattling of AK's letting rip mere seconds after he had left the rear exit, and then he heard something else; a shotgun, perhaps. Then the familiar and regular single-shots of pistols. And then an SMG. That did not bode well for his men. Nonetheless, he could not turn back now, the entire fight hinged upon his actions. He jogged on, to his right. The Chemical Toilets were ahead, near the back-right corner of the Rec-room. He reached the next corner and ran past the toilets, and ran onwards. Just around the corner was the main entrance.
Woolly rolled onto his back and groaned in agony as sharp flares of pain whipped up his body from his foot and into his brain. A milisecond later and something hard slammed into his temple, sending him sprawling right. Again and again he felt the hard object slammed into the back of his head until everything began to go numb and the floor was disappeared; consumed by darkness.
Johnathon was breathing heavily. He had just beaten a man to death, the back of the bikers' skull a bloody mess. He looked around, and saw Theron reloading behind a sofa. Then he noticed Halon standing on the sofa above Theron, pistols whipping into position. Theron glanced up, a look of pure terror on his face. But Halon hesitated, which saved Theron's life just as the same mans' hesitation had saved Halon's seconds before. Johnathon did not hesitate. He raised his rifle, but to his dismay heard only the clicking sound of an ammoless gun. He looked down and saw that he hadn't finished reloading. He discarded his rifle and drew his M9.
Snyder jumped up and tackled Halon with a roar, taking the man down and onto the floor. He tried to get his pistol to Halon's head, but his target headbutted him, disorientating him. That was all Halon needed, and he shoved a man he had once called friend off of himself. He reached out and grabbed Tasha's pistol which was nearby, and aimed between his own legs at Snyder. He pulled the trigger, hitting the man on his right shoulder, causing him to howl in pain and roll over, grasping his bleeding wound.
Just as Johnathon remembered the other bikers, a large form slammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground. "You f*ck!" Screamed a voice from behind him. He brought his left elbow up, which connected with someone's face, knocking his assailer off of him. This gave him just enough time to turn onto his back and shoot the biker twice in the chest.
T-Rex stopped moving. Ajax had seen death before. It was so quick. In the time it took for a heart to beat an entire life could be snuffed out, just like that. He thought about things like this a lot more often than people knew, and he was smarter than he was given credit for. Behind his muscular frame, there was actually a philosopher and strikingly intelligent man. The hell anyone else was ever going to know about that. It was easier just to ride with the brothers and heck, he enjoyed partying and pillaging as much as the next guy.. but in the last year, he'd had a lot of time to think. But now wasn't one of those times. He raised his SMG and even as the man on the floor spun his aim towards him, he saw the realisation of imminant death on his face. He pulled the trigger, and emptied half a clip into the man on the floor, blood flying out of almost two-dozen holes in his body, and as the body slumped back, still spasming in death, a pool of blood began to accumulate on the floor around him. Johnathon died without a sound. Looking up, Ajax saw another man with an Ak-47, who was both looking and aiming straight at him. He raised his aim, but it was too late, the other man had already started firing and Ajax was peppered with bullets, and as he collapsed backwards, his finger held the trigger of his SMG depressed and the rest of his clip was emptied into the roof. Yep, just like that a life could be snuffed out. In the space of a heartbeat, thought Ajax as he closed his eyes and fell into unconsciousness.
Halon stumbled to his feet as both Deadman and Tombstone ran in through the emergency exit where half-a-dozen bodies lay unmoving and Patrick entered through the main entrance.
"Holy sh*t!" Deadman shouted, seeing three Satans' Servants lying around his feet. Tombstone did not care at this moment. All that mattered was the man, no, demon, that was standing directly opposite him. "Patrick," he snarled, and raised his MP5. But even as he fired, Patrick was on the move, diving behind a certain over-turned metal table. Tombstone cursed.
Halon lost sight of Patrick, so instead he returned his gaze to Tombstone, only to have an Ak-47 Assault Rifle butt slam into his nose, breaking it. He stumbled away, reeling from the powerful blow, even as Theron vaulted the sofa and slammed into him again, knocking him over an old Television that stood on a small table, sending him, the TV and the table crashing to the floor. Halon was winded as his stomach hit the table with a crunch and he felt ribs break. Theron raised an arm and then brought his elbow down, slamming it into Halon's spine, which hurt, to put it mildly. As he succumbed to pain, Halon wondered how anyone who he had spent a whole damned year with, who he had taken in from the harsh wilderness that was the world, could be doing this to him. But had he not pointed a gun at him? Halon groaned quietly as he fell into unconsciousness. He welcomed it; less pain was good pain.
Theron dropped his rifle and grabbed Halon's limp body, and pulled it up infront of himself, hoping that he was not too late. Luckily for him, he wasn't, and Deadman had to jerk his aim suddenly to the side as he fired his own AK-47, sending a hail of bullets into a framed picture of George Bush that hung from the wall facing him. The picture was destroyed beyond recognition and the frame fell to the floor and smashed.
Meanwhile, Snyder had been slowly crawling away, and found himself near the minifridge even as Theron joined him. His friend grabbed him under each arm, which sent searing pain like he had never felt before through his body from his right shoulder. He clenched his teeth together and a muffled scream came out of his mouth. Theron swiftly dragged him past the minifridge and into cover behind an old, tattered sofa. He saw The Captain sheltering about four metres away behind an over-turned metal table. He put Snyder down with his back against the sofa before grabbing the mans' M9 and unholstering his own. He crept as close to Patrick as he dare, reaching the very edge of the old sofa, both pistols held upwards, ready for combat. He nodded to Patrick, although he wasn't quite sure why.
Patrick nodded back, and then jumped up and aimed his AK-47 over the table, firing in the direction of the bikers that were still standing. Deadman and Tombstone had already reached cover by the time Patrick started shooting, however, and he ducked back down behind the table as the inevitable return fire thudded into the wall above him. Theron looked past the side of the sofa and fired off a few shots from each pistol before ducking back behind cover.
Tombstone stood up. "Face me Goddamn you! I will be paid in blood for all those you have killed, all those your little band of soldiers have killed!" He snarled. His voice boomed in the room, and Deadman realised he had never, ever in his entire life heard anyone, even Tombstone himself, shout so loudly.
Patrick closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool metal of the table. "So be it," he replied calmly, only just loud enough to be heard by his enemies. He heard the sound of what could only be a gun clattering to the floor, and after discarding his rifle he stood up, hand on sword hilt.
Tombstone glared at Patrick. His entire being, until Patrick's death was achieved, was devoted towards that goal. No, that was not it. His goal was not to just simply kill Patrick; it was to impliment his suffering. With one hand, he slowly drew back his jacket, and with the other, he unsheathed a bowie knife. He reversed the grip on his blade, holding it downwards, and then moved into a combat stance.
Patrick just stood there, watching unmoved as his opponant readied for the fight. His face was totally blank; no trace of emotion - no hate, no resentment, no anger. His features didn't even betray the contempt that he felt for the man opposite him. He decided weigh-up his opponent - the biker had about three or four inches of height on him, not to mention body mass: he knew that he was but a snake next to an Ox. But that snake was more agile, and far more deadly. He slowly drew his sword and held it infront of his face, before pointing it towards his enemy, as an almost undetectable taunt, perhaps, or maybe just an invitation for the oaf to jump on his blade.
Tombstone spat on the floor. "Enough pleasantries, lets get to the point already," Tombstone said sarcastically. He calmed himself slightly, realising that running at Patrick screaming with his knife held high would achieve little more than a messy end for him. He knew he had to figure out a way to approach Patrick without getting instantly skewered.
The tension was unbarable. Deadman, Snyder and Theron stood up, not wanting to miss this reckoning.
"Theron, take Snyder and find a vehicle," Patrick ordered, not breaking eye-contact with Tombstone for a second. Theron helped Snyder up and they left. Then Tombstone spoke. "Deadman, get some men in here and get that damned Doctor to patch up our people." Deadman exited with a run, off to find help.
"What are you waiting for, biker, make a move," Patrick taunted. Tombstone smirked. "You think I'm going to run at you when you've got that thing?" "No, I suppose not. In that case, I shall take lead," he replied, before raising his sword two-handed and running at Tombstone. It was oddly silent, Tombstone thought as he jumped back and avoided the first blow, the sword sweeping down where his right shoulder had been moments before, but without hitting the ground as one would have expected from such a swing. Patrick immediately twisted the blades' facing and brought it up in another swing, which Tombstone dodged once again. Patrick held the sword one-handed now, and he swung in a wide arc at Tombstone's chest. The biker moved back slightly, and bit his tongue, knowing what was about to happen. Even as the tip of the blade cut his chest and came out covered in blood, Tombstone had already begun moving, despite the searing pain coming from his chest. He stepped inside Patrick's guard and slammed a fist into his stomach, to little affect however, due to Patrick's armor. Seemingly unhindered by the hard blow, Patrick delivered a right-hook to Tombstone's face even as he brought his blade up and slammed the hilt into the bikers' face, breaking his nose. Tombstone stumbled back a step, and Patrick kicked him in the stomach with his right leg. Even as he reared over from the blow, Tombstone grabbed the leg with his free hand and pulled Patrick over. The man rolled sideways and began picking himself up when Tombstone slammed into him, sending him crashing to the floor with a hard thud. His sword fell out of his grip and went flying out of sight. Tombstone raised his bowie knife and stabbed it through Patrick's upper back, causing him to actually scream - or maybe it was more of a roar. Patrick reached for the M9 tucked into his trousers that he had taken off Gary's dead body, even as Tombstone stabbed him repeatedly. He continued screaming in agony, but pulled out his pistol. He elbowed Tombstone in the face, stunning him for a few precious seconds. Patrick wriggled onto his back underneath Tombstone's massive frame and brought up his feet. With a kick, Tombstone was sent flying backwards, and onto the floor. Patrick raised the pistol one-handed, and groaned in pain as he lifted himself upright slightly. Tombstone's eyes widened as he saw the gun aimed at him.
"Oh, sh*t," he grumbled as Patrick pulled the trigger and a bullet sped through the air towards him. It penetrated his flesh, as bullets do, and slammed into one of his higher ribs, breaking it in half. It continued on, only just missing the bikers' heart by scant centimetres. Tombstone fell back with a groan as Patrick fired again, sending another shot into his stomach.
Patrick moaned uncharacteristically as he dropped the pistol. He slowly crawled towards Tombstone, blood pouring from the deep wounds in his back and trailing on the floor. He eventually reached the biker, and the two men just lay, looking at each other.
"Now you know pain," Patrick whispered before falling onto his back, eyes closed and breathing shallow. "I'll see you in hell, bastard," Tombstone replied as he closed his eyes.
Outside, another battle had already begun.
Theron ran as fast as he could whilst supporting Snyder who groaned with every movement. He was happy to note that the vehicles they had arrived in were all parked nearby - several directly infront of the rec-room, where ten individual and clearly marked spaces for lumber trucks were. They headed over to a nearby Hummer, and Theron looked through the drivers' window, and he grinned as he saw someone had been careless enough to leave the keys in the ignition. He opened the door, and helped Snyder in, who moved over to the passenger seat. "I can't drive with my shoulder like this," he grumbled, holding the bleeding hole in his right shoulder. Theron nodded, "I know, but keep your damn head down, we don't want to draw any unwanted attention - the people here may have been our friends once, but that damnable biker will have gone off to get help. I'll go and check on the captain." He threw his AK-47 over to Snyder. "Look after yourself," he said.
Theron shut the door, and quietly walked around to the back of the Hummer, and opened up the boot - he took one quick glance inside and was happy to note that there must have been a dozen rifles and assorted pistols, maybe more, in it. He shut the compartment, then jogged back to the rec-room. Inside, he found the leader of the bikers and The Captain lying next to each other, blood from both of them pooling around them and mixing. Just looking at the scene made him feel sick. He ran over to Patrick, and heard that the two men were quietly mumbling insults, curses and spiteful promises of pain and suffering to each other. He put it down to blood-loss and light-headedness. He grabbed Patrick under both arms and saw that the source of his blood was from multiple stab wounds on his back - must be about five or six, he thought. He dragged Patrick out of the rec-room, and continued pulling him towards the Hummer.
"Get down!" Snyder shouted from their escape vehicle. Theron looked up in surprise and saw that half a dozen people were heading in the direction of the rec-room, lead by two bikers, one who was part of the rec-room fight and another he had not seen before, but it wasn't hard to tell who he was with. He also noticed Mace, Sherman and Doctor Buckley amongst the mob. There was also another, withdrawn and disfigured woman with short-shaven hair at the back, wandering slowly behind the others. She seemed so distant, so without purpose compared to the others. He dived to the floor as a hail of bullets came his way. He grabbed his M9 and began returning fire, although he didn't hit any of the moving targets. The group scattered as Snyder began to fire the AK at them, although the rattle of the rifle didn't manage to completely drown out his screaming as the recoil of the rifle send vibrations through his severely injured shoulder. All except the strange, withdrawn woman ran for cover, behind vehicles, bins, anything - but no, she just kept on walking forward.
Snyder decided not to kill the strange, disfigured woman, as she didn't seem to be a threat, but he was out of ammo anyway and had no reloads. He grabbed his .32 Revolver, and began taking potshots. He glanced back towards the rec-room, and saw Theron was dragging The Captain one-handed, and firing his handgun with the other. Snyder gave up shooting as two shots slammed into the side of the Hummer. Instead, he turned the keys and the vehicle growled to life. "Aw sh*t, this is gonna hurt," he groaned sadly as he took-off the hand-brake. He switched gears and slammed his foot down on the throttle. The Hummer sped towards where 'the mob' were taking cover, and crashed into some large bins, battering them out of the way, as Mace dived out of the way from behind them. He drove over a hedge where the biker that he didn't know was hiding, but who rolled out of the way. Fire peppered the rear of the vehicle, but to little effect. Snyder brought the Hummer round, and headed over to where Theron was, and stopped with a sideways skid. Theron opened the middle-side door, and shoved Patrick in, and quickly strapped his seatbelt in place. Then, he slammed the door shut and opened the front-right passenger seat as more shots sailed over, and into, the Hummer.
"Drive, drive damnit!" Theron shouted as he climbed in. Snyder slammed his foot down, and the vehicle sped off towards the nearest exist, slamming the metal gates open and leaving a Hummer-sized-indentation in them. They drove off as the morning began proper. Theron sighed, and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the head-rest. Snyder didn't even care about the great pain in his shoulder - today he had almost died more times than he cared to count, and he just wanted to put as much distance between them and the bikers as possible. "Well done, Sergeant," Patrick groaned. "But Johnathon is-" Theron stopped as he realised what his leader was saying, and simply nodded.
Meanwhile, back inside the compound the small rescue-team ran towards the rec-room, past the trail of blood leading inside where Patrick had been dragged, and into the location of the battle.
"Holy f*ck," Mace exclaimed. Deadman ran over to Tombstone, his rifle forgotten on the floor, and he gently lifted his friends' head. "It's okay bro, we're here, just hang on, hang the f*ck on damnit!" He said quietly, almost reduced to tears at the sheer amount of death that had taken place in under ten minutes. Hell, under five, he mused.
Tombstone just smiled weakly. "What the hell took you so long?" He whispered.
PLAYER EVENT - PART FIVE Theron ran as fast as he could whilst supporting Snyder who groaned with every movement. He was happy to note that the vehicles they had arrived in were all parked nearby - several directly infront of the rec-room, where ten individual and clearly marked spaces for lumber trucks were. They headed over to a nearby Hummer, and Theron looked through the drivers' window, and he grinned as he saw someone had been careless enough to leave the keys in the ignition. He opened the door, and helped Snyder in, who moved over to the passenger seat. "I can't drive with my shoulder like this," he grumbled, holding the bleeding hole in his right shoulder. Theron nodded, "I know, but keep your damn head down, we don't want to draw any unwanted attention - the people here may have been our friends once, but that damnable biker will have gone off to get help. I'll go and check on the captain." He threw his AK-47 over to Snyder. "Look after yourself," he said.
Theron shut the door, and quietly walked around to the back of the Hummer, and opened up the boot - he took one quick glance inside and was happy to note that there must have been a dozen rifles and assorted pistols, maybe more, in it. He shut the compartment, then jogged back to the rec-room. Inside, he found the leader of the bikers and The Captain lying next to each other, blood from both of them pooling around them and mixing. Just looking at the scene made him feel sick. He ran over to Patrick, and heard that the two men were quietly mumbling insults, curses and spiteful promises of pain and suffering to each other. He put it down to blood-loss and light-headedness. He grabbed Patrick under both arms and saw that the source of his blood was from multiple stab wounds on his back - must be about five or six, he thought. He dragged Patrick out of the rec-room, and continued pulling him towards the Hummer.
"Get down!" Snyder shouted from their escape vehicle. Theron looked up in surprise and saw that half a dozen people were heading in the direction of the rec-room, lead by two bikers, one who was part of the rec-room fight and another he had not seen before, but it wasn't hard to tell who he was with. He also noticed Mace, Sherman and Doctor Buckley amongst the mob. There was also another, withdrawn and disfigured woman with short-shaven hair at the back, wandering slowly behind the others. She seemed so distant, so without purpose compared to the others. He dived to the floor as a hail of bullets came his way. He grabbed his M9 and began returning fire, although he didn't hit any of the moving targets. The group scattered as Snyder began to fire the AK at them, although the rattle of the rifle didn't manage to completely drown out his screaming as the recoil of the rifle send vibrations through his severely injured shoulder. All except the strange, withdrawn woman ran for cover, behind vehicles, bins, anything - but no, she just kept on walking forward.
Snyder decided not to kill the strange, disfigured woman, as she didn't seem to be a threat, but he was out of ammo anyway and had no reloads. He grabbed his .32 Revolver, and began taking potshots. He glanced back towards the rec-room, and saw Theron was dragging The Captain one-handed, and firing his handgun with the other. Snyder gave up shooting as two shots slammed into the side of the Hummer. Instead, he turned the keys and the vehicle growled to life. "Aw sh*t, this is gonna hurt," he groaned sadly as he took-off the hand-brake. He switched gears and slammed his foot down on the throttle. The Hummer sped towards where 'the mob' were taking cover, and crashed into some large bins, battering them out of the way, as Mace dived out of the way from behind them. He drove over a hedge where the biker that he didn't know was hiding, but who rolled out of the way. Fire peppered the rear of the vehicle, but to little effect. Snyder brought the Hummer round, and headed over to where Theron was, and stopped with a sideways skid. Theron opened the middle-side door, and shoved Patrick in, and quickly strapped his seatbelt in place. Then, he slammed the door shut and opened the front-right passenger seat as more shots sailed over, and into, the Hummer.
"Drive, drive damnit!" Theron shouted as he climbed in. Snyder slammed his foot down, and the vehicle sped off towards the nearest exist, slamming the metal gates open and leaving a Hummer-sized-indentation in them. They drove off as the morning began proper. Theron sighed, and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the head-rest. Snyder didn't even care about the great pain in his shoulder - today he had almost died more times than he cared to count, and he just wanted to put as much distance between them and the bikers as possible. "Well done, Sergeant," Patrick groaned. "But Johnathon is-" Theron stopped as he realised what his leader was saying, and simply nodded.
Meanwhile, back inside the compound the small rescue-team ran towards the rec-room, past the trail of blood leading inside where Patrick had been dragged, and into the location of the battle.
"Holy f*ck," Mace exclaimed. Deadman ran over to Tombstone, his rifle forgotten on the floor, and he gently lifted his friends' head. "It's okay bro, we're here, just hang on, hang the f*ck on damnit!" He said quietly, almost reduced to tears at the sheer amount of death that had taken place in under ten minutes. Hell, under five, he mused.
Tombstone just smiled weakly. "What the hell took you so long?" He whispered.
Roight. Well I think, in all honesty, I think we should thank Dark. Despite certain complaints at his slowness, I don't think even Silver (may he rest in rp peace) wrote over 5.5k words.
So.
Gz, loved the rp. Could have had less 'disfigured' Keira Imho.
ghosty wrote:Roight. Well I think, in all honesty, I think we should thank Dark. Despite certain complaints at his slowness, I don't think even Silver (may he rest in rp peace) wrote over 5.5k words.
So.
Gz, loved the rp. Could have had less 'disfigured' Keira Imho.
^^
Well holy gak. 5.5k? Wow. You bothered to check that? Nah, it's all good. Anyways, I have to say, with all the deepest reserves of my vast amount of modesty, that yes, you bloody well should thank Dark!
Oh Jesus Christ I gotta do another one for Pine Ville later on. DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.
Well, I'll just copy 'n' paste the last event and then throw in a thousand-odd zombies and replace a few names.
Edit: 5,683 words to be precise. Yay me. The future is looking bright. Oh no wait, I just remembered who my English teacher is and how.. 'brilliant'.. he is. Took him almost 2 months to mark my damned essay, and even then he didn't give it back. F*cker.
Edit #2: As for all that disfiguredness, he's in the middle of a gun fight, and he's viewing a woman who's had half her face clawed out and who has very, very, short hair. And she has been suffering from sleep deprivation like 99.95% of our characters.
FITZZ wrote: Well done Darko,I quite enjoyed that..
Guess it's time to count the dead,repair the wounded..and plan for vengeance...
Don't worry, I've got my man on it already. Of course, you can still plot away. But yeah, as I said, I've got my man on the other tasks. ISN'T THAT RIGHT GHOSTY?
Patrick is suffers from sever bruising to the stomach. – Kicked across the room by an 8 foot tall mound of Muscle. Additionally, Patrick has been stabbed through the back twelve times. The first blow would have been deep (Dark States the knife went through Patricks back.) but I imagine in the stabbing frenzy, the blows would have had less and less effect per impact. So by my thesis, stabs 1-5 would have been serious, dangerous, and possibly fatal if not treated. Stabs 6-10 will drop in strength each blow. Punchin’ through skin, cloth and armour is gonna tire even our berserk Biker. These Knife wounds are bad, no doubt about it, but they aren’t the same calibre as the initial strikes. Stabs 11 and 12, well they were two last ones Tomb desperately stuck home before Patrick shot him. I doubt these would have any real damage. He is also suffering from torn and mild breakages on his knuckles. – Punching Saunders in the face is a bad move. Patrick has a mild bruising on his chest, where a bullet spent it’s energy on his body armour. Don’t look at me like that, Dark asked for a comprehensive catalogue of injuries.
Tombstone has a bruised tongue, where, tragically, he bit it; he also has a shallow laceration from nipple to nipple. Not serious, but I gather said cuts can bleed badly. He also has been punched on the jaw, and maybe a tooth has been removed. Now for the bad stuff; Tombstone has a bullet hole clean through his chest. It shattered a rib, which is definitely not a good thing. Bone shards can slice up other organs, and the bullet wound itself could have caused severe blood trauma. The second Bullet has gone into the stomach. It hasn’t penetrated as deeply, but it is a cause to worry about.
ghosty wrote:Right first up on the injuries list in Patrick:
Patrick is suffers from sever bruising to the stomach. – Kicked across the room by an 8 foot tall mound of Muscle. Additionally, Patrick has been stabbed through the back twelve times. The first blow would have been deep (Dark States the knife went through Patricks back.) but I imagine in the stabbing frenzy, the blows would have had less and less effect per impact. So by my thesis, stabs 1-5 would have been serious, dangerous, and possibly fatal if not treated. Stabs 6-10 will drop in strength each blow. Punchin’ through skin, cloth and armour is gonna tire even our berserk Biker. These Knife wounds are bad, no doubt about it, but they aren’t the same calibre as the initial strikes. Stabs 11 and 12, well they were two last ones Tomb desperately stuck home before Patrick shot him. I doubt these would have any real damage. He is also suffering from torn and mild breakages on his knuckles. – Punching Saunders in the face is a bad move. Patrick has a mild bruising on his chest, where a bullet spent it’s energy on his body armour. Don’t look at me like that, Dark asked for a comprehensive catalogue of injuries.
More to come in a rolley Mo!
Thanks a bunch, ghosty, I appreciate this. But unless I've been stupid, I'm pretty sure I said half-a-dozen (which would be 5ish) stabs.
Edit: no worries though, we'll just disregard the last seven stabs.
Saunders-thing is suffering from a ludicrous amount of gunshot injuries. It hit him in the back, so the damage to the ribcage and spine could be extensive. He was in hulk smash mode, so some of the shots would have been nullified, but he’s in for a world of hurt. In honesty, he's only standing because he's a monster, I'd think if he turns back, he'll either die in seconds, or he'll die in minutes. I don't think even his regeneration could keep him standing.
Halon has a broken nose, no, a flattened nose from an Ak rifle butt colliding with considerable force. Additionally, Halon has three broken ribs, and heavy bruising at the base of his spine. He also has a slight headache, and, similarly to Patrick, a couple of broken knuckles.
@ Dark: I'm sure you did, but I calculated that Tomb wouldn't stab slowly, now Patrick is in his grasp. He'd go wild, blooddrunk, and the stabbing would be berserk. Just my interpretation.
Tasha dropped a nameless goon with a combat magnum. Safe to say he’s down and out. Though apparently he’s still breathing. Not sure for how long, considering he’s the sole survivor of the ‘traitors’ *DOOM IMPENDING*
Tasha has an incredibly damaged stomach. The bullets entered, and proceeded to exit her, which will have left quite a large mess. *SERIOUS INJURY*
Wooly, dear Wooly, has a shattered tibia, a caved in skull, and a mild headache. I want so dearly for him to survive, but it just aint happening. *NPC FATALITY*
Snyder has a bullet hole clean through his shoulder, missing organs, but catching the bone. Expect splinters. Deep wound as such will bleed like a bitch. Caution- He could slip into cardiac arrest if the wound isn’t seen to. Snyder, has a deep cut in his arm from splintered wood, and doubtless he must be slightly peppered with gauge shot. Watch out, it might go septic!
T-rex has been shot twice through the chest, assumingly through the heart. Otherwise, our dinosaur named friend may still have a hope. Leave this to Dark’s discretion, but otherwise *NPC FATALITY*
Jonathon has injuries similar to Saunders, but he’s isn’t a mound of steel coated steak; He’s a bullet ridden corpse. Shame really, Jonny seemed pretty damn skilled to take out two bikers.
Ajax is ‘peppered’ with bullets. Peppered signifies these aren’t deep wounds, probably warranting why he slipped into unconsciousness as opposed to death. Ajax, is pretty drunk after downing an entire bottle of vintage wine.
A framed picture of George Bush was defaced. The bastards!
That's everyone, hope that helps clear up the injuries and ailments. Prepare for a veritable bloodbath.
PLAYER EVENT - EVENT REPORT - compiled by ghosty Patrick: Patrick is suffers from sever bruising to the stomach – Kicked across the room by an 8 foot tall mound of Muscle. Additionally, Patrick has been stabbed through the back twelve times. The first blow would have been deep (Dark States the knife went through Patricks back.) but I imagine in the stabbing frenzy, the blows would have had less and less effect per impact. So by my thesis, stabs 1-5 would have been serious, dangerous, and possibly fatal if not treated. Stabs 6-10 will drop in strength each blow. Punchin’ through skin, cloth and armour is gonna tire even our berserk Biker. These Knife wounds are bad, no doubt about it, but they aren’t the same calibre as the initial strikes. Stabs 11 and 12, well they were two last ones Tomb desperately stuck home before Patrick shot him. I doubt these would have any real damage. He is also suffering from torn and mild breakages on his knuckles. – Punching Saunders in the face is a bad move. Patrick has a mild bruising on his chest, where a bullet spent it’s energy on his body armour.
Tombstone: Tombstone has a bruised tongue, where, tragically, he bit it. He also has a shallow laceration from nipple to nipple. Not serious, but I gather said cuts can bleed badly. He also has been punched on the jaw, and maybe a tooth has been removed. Now for the bad stuff; Tombstone has a bullet hole clean through his chest. It shattered a rib, which is definitely not a good thing. Bone shards can slice up other organs, and the bullet wound itself could have caused severe blood trauma. The second Bullet has gone into the stomach. It hasn’t penetrated as deeply, but it is a cause to worry about.
Saunders-thing is suffering from a ludicrous amount of gunshot injuries. It hit him in the back, so the damage to the ribcage and spine could be extensive. He was in hulk smash mode, so some of the shots would have been nullified, but he’s in for a world of hurt. In honesty, he's only standing because he's a monster, I'd think if he turns back, he'll either die in seconds, or he'll die in minutes. I don't think even his regeneration could keep him standing.
Halon has a broken nose, no, a flattened nose from an Ak rifle butt colliding with considerable force. Additionally, Halon has three broken ribs, and heavy bruising at the base of his spine. He also has a slight headache, and, similarly to Patrick, a couple of broken knuckles.
Tasha dropped a nameless goon with a combat magnum (Gary). Safe to say he’s down and out. Though apparently he’s still breathing. Not sure for how long, considering he’s the sole survivor of the ‘traitors’ *DOOM IMPENDING*
Tasha has an incredibly damaged stomach. The bullets entered, and proceeded to exit her, which will have left quite a large mess. *SERIOUS INJURY*
Woolly, dear Woolly, has a shattered tibia, a caved in skull, and a mild headache. I want so dearly for him to survive, but it just aint happening. *NPC FATALITY*
Snyder has a bullet hole clean through his shoulder, missing organs, but catching the bone. Expect splinters. Deep wound as such will bleed like a bitch. Caution- He could slip into cardiac arrest if the wound isn’t seen to. Snyder, has a deep cut in his arm from splintered wood, and doubtless he must be slightly peppered with gauge shot. Watch out, it might go septic!
T-rex has been shot twice through the chest, assumingly through the heart. Otherwise, our dinosaur named friend may still have a hope. Leave this to Dark’s discretion, but otherwise *NPC FATALITY*
Jonathon has injuries similar to Saunders, but he’s isn’t a mound of steel coated steak; He’s a bullet ridden corpse.
Ajax is ‘peppered’ with bullets. Peppered signifies these aren’t deep wounds, probably warranting why he slipped into unconsciousness as opposed to death. Ajax, is pretty drunk after downing an entire bottle of vintage wine.
A framed picture of George Bush was defaced. The Saints!
Yeah, it was a shame about Johnathon. Hell, it was a shame about Woolly. But we can't have me going light on 'em all now, can we?
Alrighty then..so...Woolly is Dead,T-Rex is Dead,Tasha is in critical condition,Ajax is in bad shape and old Tombstone is in pretty bad shape as well ( you missed his broken nose BTW ghosty)...
Saunders is still alive because of his "mutant abilities".
Patrick is sliced and diced,and two of his men are dead,with one wounded.
FITZZ wrote: Alrighty then..so...Woolly is Dead,T-Rex is Dead,Tasha is in critical condition,Ajax is in bad shape and old Tombstone is in pretty bad shape as well ( you missed his broken nose BTW ghosty)...
Saunders is still alive because of his "mutant abilities".
Patrick is sliced and diced,and two of his men are dead,with one wounded.
Tombstone floated in and out of consciousness,the world a blur of random images and motion around him.
He was vaguely aware of excruciating pain coursing through his body as he was lifted and carried...somewhere.
Daisy was standing in front of him,she appeared absolutely beautiful,radiant in her presence.
" Not time yet babe" she said with a smile,softly touching his cheek.
" I'm so tired" he heard his own voice say " so damn tired...let me just go with you."
Daisy smiled but shook her head " It's not time yet my love...you have to hang on."
" HANG ON STONE!!" a voice was shouting near his ear " God Damn it!!...don't you fething die on us!!"
Daisys face vanished...Tombstone stared at Deadman through bleary eyes.
" Tired..." Tombstone whispered,his throat feeling like it was filled with glass,his body drifting,wracked with pain " So..fething..tierd."
The biker was dimly aware of something being placed over his face and a sharp pain in his arm...voices were all around him.
"....His wounds are quite critical...I don't know if..."
" He God Damn well better make it!!...or you won't!!"
"...Woman is in critical condition Doctor her pulse is..."
" Woolly...his name was Woolly...god damn it!"
"...Don't give a feth!!! Get some one in here who can Stabilize the..."
" He's not going to die you son of a bitch!!.."
Tombstone drifted as the voices faded in his head,his eyes barely focusing on the world around him.
As he drifted into unconsciousness,he was vaguely aware of Deadman and Mace standing near him...in the corner he saw Keira,staring blankly at him.
Tombstone tried to offer a small smile...but drifted off into the dark.
Deadman stood over Tombstone,Mace and Scratch standing nearby.
"Dammit." Deadman whispered as he stared at Tombstone,the biker had been placed on a med table,IV lines running from his arms to drip bottles situated on poles,a respiration device firmly over his face.
Deadman eyed the machine monitoring Tombstones vitals,they looked ok to him...but then again...he was no Doctor.
"Speaking of Doctors" the biker thought,turning in the direction of Dr. Buckley's voice.
Buckley was standing over a distant table,several of his orderlies swarmed about him,he was diligently working on Tasha.
Deadman heard a dull clank as the man extracted a bullet from the womans body and dropped it into a small metal tray.
" Suction!!" Dr.Buckley barked at one of his haggard assistant " I need more suction...here you idiot!!"
Deadman ran his hands through his hair,what a fething mess he thought,Woolly and T-Rex gone...Tasha maybe as well...and Stone...if Stone didn't pull through...what then?
The biker rubbed his eyes "Feth me." he shook his head.
" Hey!" a voice came drifting over to Deadman,the biker glanced up finding it's source,it was Ajax...
Deaman rushed to the gurney on which Ajax lay.
" How ya feel bro?" Deadman asked offering his wounded friend a tight smile.
" Like I've been shot...repeatedly." Ajax replied,his voice barley audible amongst the commotion of the Med center.
Deadman uttered a small laugh " Well...that makes sense,you just take it easy man...your going to be ok."
I think at some point I'm going to have to make a Necromunda gang called The Satans Servants. The leader will be called Tombstone.. and there'll be a bunch of guys with names like Ajax and Deadman.. and T-Rex.. and Tasha.. and Bob.. no wait a second.. not Bob.. uh.. Jimbob? Nah.. Cutter? Yeah, he's in.
But then what would happen to my Wraiths? Ramirez and his gang haven't even had a single fight yet! Hell, they don't even exist in the physical sense yet.
EDIT:
WOOOOOOOOOOH YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NEW PAGE ALREADY SOMEHOW!!! HAHA! IN YO FACES SUCKERSZZZZZZZZZZ!!! WAHAHHHHHHHHH!
Anyway as I was saying, another good name for that gang could be..
Small addition to previous post.
--------------------------------------------
His hands flew as he removed the bullets from the woman's abdomen,the same woman who had threatened him back at the Hotel.
Inside he found himself pleased this had happened to her "Filthy slut"...indeed he was happy that at least some of that riff raff was now dead.
He was loathe to admit that the only reason he was even attempting to save this piece of human trash was because of his knowledge that his own life hung in the balance.
He had no doubt that the remaining bikers would follow through on their threats to kill him if he allowed their friend to perish.
" Dirty savages" Dr. Buckley thought to himself as he stitched bleeding wounds inside the woman "They all deserve to be dead..scum such as them only made this horrid world worse."
Still,he'd save them if he could...for now he had no choice,but sooner or later...there would be a reckoning.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:I think at some point I'm going to have to make a Necromunda gang called The Satans Servants.
The leader will be called Tombstone.. and there'll be a bunch of guys with names like Ajax and Deadman.. and T-Rex.. and Tasha.. and Bob.. no wait a second.. not Bob.. uh.. Jimbob? Nah.. Cutter? Yeah, he's in.
But then what would happen to my Wraiths? Ramirez and his gang haven't even had a single fight yet! Hell, they don't even exist in the physical sense yet.
EDIT:
WOOOOOOOOOOH YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NEW PAGE ALREADY SOMEHOW!!! HAHA! IN YO FACES SUCKERSZZZZZZZZZZ!!! WAHAHHHHHHHHH!
Anyway as I was saying, another good name for that gang could be..
Feel free to use the Satan's Servants name in any forthcoming creations you'd like to Darko,as well as the names and likenesses of all the mentioned "personalities",I'd actually get a kick out of seeing that.
...And,Congratulations on leading in yet another page....I'm starting to think this RP is going to outdistance the previous one by a good margin.
Yeah, I see him being nailed to a crucifix with a spoon through his brain whilst being force-fed donkey excrement and being neutered as well as also being simultaneously used for target practice with flaming swords of fire in the near future.
To put it basically, that is.
Edited to change that it to that is at the end there.
"Come on lets get you inside" Angel grunted as bourne helped her carry Hog inside, they set him down on one of the bench seats inside the Amtrack.
"drink this" Angel said, putting a canteen down next to him. "and eat this" placing a MRE next to the canteen. "come out when you think your up to it"
Hog managed a half hearted "urg-hu" in return as Angel left him inside.
Finding Jennifer and Hardie in the shade of the aircraft, looking over a map of the area she told them what had happened, finishing her quick report Angel went inside the aircraft, lying down over the seats and went to sleep.
_______OOC__________
there you go, have hog back, that took longer than I thought
FM Ninja 048 wrote:there you go, have hog back, that took longer than I thought
Just imagine how long a certain event took.
yeah, thats why I only gave you 6 , that took forEVER, silvers events were never that long and his were still action packed
Well, no offense to Silver, but I have a feeling that this event was somewhat higher in terms of content. Besides, it's the Christmas holidays. Don't you have better things to do than care about this thread 24/7?
Ah well, everyone is entitled to an opinion. But I have spent about five or six hours in total on that event I think.
Holidays? we only broke up from school at lunch today, and I don't actually, i'm just listening to music reading Nemisis while refreshing my subscribed threads.
and I will give you credit on the higher content thing, that was alot of reading.
FM Ninja 048 wrote:Holidays? we only broke up from school at lunch today, and I don't actually, i'm just listening to music reading Nemisis while refreshing my subscribed threads.
and I will give you credit on the higher content thing, that was alot of reading.
No, obviously (atleast, hopefully) none of us actually do spend our time watching Dakka 24/7. I'm just saying that seeing as how I've been on Christmas holiday (being 14 has its perks) since the beginning of this week, I've been busy with friends and whatnot as well. Besides, doesn't it all work out when you think of it content:time ?
Indeed. Damage caused from a gunshot wound will nearly always be more then that caused by a knife/stab wound.
A stab wound is a pretty "clean" injury that mearly cuts and severs tissue and organs which for the most part can be pretty "easially" (by a doctor mind you) repaired. Hell, if you stab someone and don't retract the blade and leave it in, it will actually hinder bleeding out and you can live (though uncomfortably) for some time after.
Now a bullet on the other hand, is a completly different animal.
As a bullet passes through the human body, it causes two types of damage:
Permanent cavitation: the path caused by the bullet itself. Aka the "hole"
Temporary cavitation: tissue and organs displaced by the kentic shockwave generated as the bullet passes through the body.
(RE: Brady's EMT-B 11th Edition.. my emt book)
More often then not, TC will cause more damage then the PC. Though this will vary greatly depending on the bullet size, shape, type, and where it penetrated the body.
A great example is the .50 BMG round. It will actually cause damage to a person if the round passes close enough by them without actually touching having to touch them in any shape or form.
Based on my knowledge, I would base the wounds as follows:
Patrick:
6 stabs wounds to the neck and upper back area by a bowie knife. (Going easy here, I have personally seen a man stabbed around 20 times in about a three second attack.)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bowie_knife
Min Blade length is 6 inches.
Even if the knife was only inserted half way, we are looking at six stab wounds that are three inches deep. That is deep enough to reach the nerve stem, sever the spine, shatter your clavicle, sever a carotid artery. Sever that, or hinder blood flow to your brain, and you will be suffering from what is known as Hypoxia. Brain damage starts to occure after only 4-5 min in this condition, with death soon following.
Inserted fully to the hilt, and you could reach his heart and lungs.
Granted, the GM will have to approve of this, but based on what I know, I would say Patrick would currently be bleeding to death and starting to suffer from Hypoxia. Chance of survival without immediate hospital care: Slim-none.
From the chest kick from my character, I would say bruised ribs at a min. This would result in difficulty/labored breathing until fully healed.
Tombstone:
GSW to the chest and stomach.
The chest wound would most likely puncture and deflate a lung causing what is known as a sucking chest wound (Pneumothorax). A persons lungs are sealed in a - pressure cavity. When this wall is penetrated and the pressure levels out, the lung will collapse unable to inflate. This can be treated in the field, however if left untreated it will eventually kill the victem.
The Stomach wound.... ouch. If the round was designed to cause high amounts of TC (hydro) you can have entire organs literally explode. If the stomach is penetrated, it will dump all kinds of nasty into your cavity, and with such a high bacteria count infection is an extreme hazard that kills more gunshot victems to the stomach then the bullets do.
Chance of survival without immediate hospital care: This REALLY depends on bullet placement. The sucking chest wound can be treated in the field, and the Stomach wound "can" be left untreated, but without some serious antibiotics Tomb would most likely (id say 80-85% chance) die from infection. A very slow and very, very painfull death I might add.
Not to mention Tomb is prolly suffering from shock/blood loss himself at the moment, and in general is not in good shape.
My 2 cents. And if you want, feel free to look up the terms I used. I really don't feel like explaining what everything means. Would take too damn long lol.
Indeed. Damage caused from a gunshot wound will nearly always be more then that caused by a knife/stab wound.
A stab wound is a pretty "clean" injury that mearly cuts and severs tissue and organs which for the most part can be pretty "easially" (by a doctor mind you) repaired. Hell, if you stab someone and don't retract the blade and leave it in, it will actually hinder bleeding out and you can live (though uncomfortably) for some time after.
Now a bullet on the other hand, is a completly different animal.
As a bullet passes through the human body, it causes two types of damage:
Permanent cavitation: the path caused by the bullet itself. Aka the "hole"
Temporary cavitation: tissue and organs displaced by the kentic shockwave generated as the bullet passes through the body.
(RE: Brady's EMT-B 11th Edition.. my emt book)
More often then not, TC will cause more damage then the PC. Though this will vary greatly depending on the bullet size, shape, type, and where it penetrated the body.
A great example is the .50 BMG round. It will actually cause damage to a person if the round passes close enough by them without actually touching having to touch them in any shape or form.
Based on my knowledge, I would base the wounds as follows:
Patrick:
6 stabs wounds to the neck and upper back area by a bowie knife. (Going easy here, I have personally seen a man stabbed around 20 times in about a three second attack.)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bowie_knife
Min Blade length is 6 inches.
Even if the knife was only inserted half way, we are looking at six stab wounds that are three inches deep. That is deep enough to reach the nerve stem, sever the spine, shatter your clavicle, sever a carotid artery. Sever that, or hinder blood flow to your brain, and you will be suffering from what is known as Hypoxia. Brain damage starts to occure after only 4-5 min in this condition, with death soon following.
Inserted fully to the hilt, and you could reach his heart and lungs.
Granted, the GM will have to approve of this, but based on what I know, I would say Patrick would currently be bleeding to death and starting to suffer from Hypoxia. Chance of survival without immediate hospital care: Slim-none.
From the chest kick from my character, I would say bruised ribs at a min. This would result in difficulty/labored breathing until fully healed.
Tombstone:
GSW to the chest and stomach.
The chest wound would most likely puncture and deflate a lung causing what is known as a sucking chest wound (Pneumothorax). A persons lungs are sealed in a - pressure cavity. When this wall is penetrated and the pressure levels out, the lung will collapse unable to inflate. This can be treated in the field, however if left untreated it will eventually kill the victem.
The Stomach wound.... ouch. If the round was designed to cause high amounts of TC (hydro) you can have entire organs literally explode. If the stomach is penetrated, it will dump all kinds of nasty into your cavity, and with such a high bacteria count infection is an extreme hazard that kills more gunshot victems to the stomach then the bullets do.
Chance of survival without immediate hospital care: This REALLY depends on bullet placement. The sucking chest wound can be treated in the field, and the Stomach wound "can" be left untreated, but without some serious antibiotics Tomb would most likely (id say 80-85% chance) die from infection. A very slow and very, very painfull death I might add.
Not to mention Tomb is prolly suffering from shock/blood loss himself at the moment, and in general is not in good shape.
My 2 cents. And if you want, feel free to look up the terms I used. I really don't feel like explaining what everything means. Would take too damn long lol.
We are lucky to have you in this RP, JP, lol.
Ok, seeing as I am still alive after...what, like 2-3 minutes of sitting there? I'd say it didn't reach my heart, as I'm positive I would be dead by now.
Tombstone drifted in unconsciousness,fevered images filled his head.
In his delirium,he found himself seated around a campfire,One Eye and Medicine Man seated opposite of him.
These were not the spectres that had haunted his previous dreams,he felt no sense of dread amongst them...only the warmth of being with lost friends.
One Eye smiled at Tombstone " Got yourself pretty banged up huh son." the old biker laughed.
" Yeah" Tombstone replied,a little embarrassed" looks like I did...but I gave as good as I got."
" Yeah...you did do that boy...you did do that." One Eye smiled.
" So" Medicine Man spoke " Is your quest for vengeance finished fierce Tombstone?"
Tombstone stared into the fire not replying to the man.
" I guess that means your not done yet ,huh boy?" One Eye said shaking his head.
" Is he dead ?" Tombstone asked "Is that fething murderer dead?"
" He still lives" Medicine Man replied.
" Then no" Tombstone answered " I'm not done...how the hell can I be?"
" You can turn it loose son" One Eye said " Let him go...try to pick up the pieces and live on."
" Could you!" Tombstone roared " Could you let someone who killed so many people that you loved just walk away...could you just turn your back on that?"
One Eye laughed " Not the old me...no..I suppose I couldn't,but son...the world ain't what it once was...you could be an asset to the people who are left..."
" I can't Man..so long as that bastard is alive...I can't know peace." Tombstone said.
" The path you are choosing to walk holds only death" Medicine Man said " You must know that."
" I know it." Tombstone answered. " If You two feel so strongly about it...let me stay with you...let me be with her..I don't fear dying...let me stay."
" Now is not your time Fierce one" Medicine Man said " I see much more blood spilled before you will cross over"
Tombstone said nothing,he simply stared into the flames,happy to be among his friend...if only for a moment.
"Well done, soldiers" Patrick said, laying on his stomach.
"My vitals are untouched, but I'm bleeding heavily. I feel no pain, but I will die if one of you doesn't treat me immediately." Patrick said in his same, monotone voice.
Snyder shot the glove compartment lock with his pistol, and opened it to find a field medical kit.
"You have no idea how lucky you are, Captain" Snyder said, jumping in the back of the vehicle and sitting down next Patrick.
"God damn, Captain, you got hit good" Snyder sighed, examining the wounds
"I got him worse, two bullets are more than enough payment for 5 stab wounds." Patrick said
"One in the chest, one in the stomach. Infection rampant, I'm sure." Patrick said
Snyder nodded and took Patricks vest off and his undershirt.
"Mother of god..." Snyder gasped
Underneath, Snyder realized why Patrick goes on so much about Pain.
A tattoo, stretching from his upper shoulderblades down to his very lower back, was a depiction of his father and mother, holding a baby Patrick in their arms.
Even more horrifying was the tons of black studs that covered Patricks body.
"What..are you?" Snyder asked, in shock.
"I am Pain, soon to be dead if you don't stop acting like a child." Patrick sighed
Snyder took a large cottonball and poured alcohol on it and dabbed over all of the stab wounds.
"This might sting..." Snyder started, but he stopped, realizing the folly of his words.
He stopped, and put gauze wrap around his whole upper body.
"You won't die, none of your vitals were touched. You are extremely lucky that all 5 just hit flesh and didn't sever your spinal cord or hit any organs."Snyder laughed
"I will be generally unaffected by any long-term effects of these wounds." Patrick sighed
Patrick sat up, and laid his back against the door.
"You won't be able to do any fighting for some time, Captain. You risk infection by simply going near the zombies" Theron said from the driver seat.
"I realize, the gauze will help, but I will need to resign for several days. This is of no problem, however. We stay on the road, and I know where we are going." Patrick said, taking a chug from a bottle of water.
"You have my weapons?" Patrick asked Snyder
"Yes, all of them. Your..."rifle" and sword are in the back" Snyder answered
"You both performed admirably. Though I must ask, why would you choose me over Halon?" Patrick asked
Snyder and Theron both thought for a moment, until Theron answered
"Halon has been very unusual these past few days. He has grown weaker since we left the hotel, and the bikers looked as if they took over leadership. I don't work for a ragtag band of savages." Theron said, no struggle in his voice
Snyder only nodded
"You know, Theron, I understand what you are saying. I have a lot of sympathy for the Thug Life gangsters that I heard were rampant in North America. They were forced into that position, they had no other option." Patrick started
"But these men choose to kill, they choose to do this. They deserve no sympathy." Patrick said with venom in his voice.
"Only God Can Judge Us" Snyder said with a resignation in his voice. He took out a cross and held it against his chest.
"Your faith will protect you from imaginary dangers, I agree. Pain has already judged me, and it has chosen I be its Hand of Judgement." Patrick said with spite in his voice
"Listen, there is one man who we can trust above all others. His name is Snow." Patrick said
"You mean President Snow? The former Prime Minister of Sweden?" Theron asked, curious
"Yes. He was my closest friend I had ever known. He fled to the East Coast" Patrick said
"So, where to, sir?" Theron asked
"North, west of New York City. Its going to take a while.
Tombstones eyes fluttered open and the faces of One Eye and Medicine Man vanished,replaced by the face of Dr.Buckley looming over him.
The biker was dimly aware of a sharp pain in his chest as the Dr. inserted a large needle into it.
The biker soon found his breathing to be easier,he blinked as the Dr. continued his work.
" Deaths path..." Tombstone muttered.
" God lord he's awake..." Buckley shouted at one of his assistance"I want this man anesthetized damn you...I'll not have this barbarian thrashing about while I try to save his miserable life!!"
The orderly rushed to follow the Doctors commands,and soon Tombstone found himself drifting into unconsciousness once again.
May I join?
(sorry about starting a whole new thread about zombie roleplays, I just forgot how fast a roleplay is.)
I am too lazy to read all 49 pages, so I just read page 37.
What's happening?
Now picture if you can, what that knife could do to a person if it was inserted multiple times into your back and neck area... even half way.
In order to treat something like this, you are going to require some kind of deep wound bleeding control.. such as packing the wound with LOTS of gauze or quick clot. (QC use though opens up a whole different can of worms though )
You would then need to operate on the patient and fix any internal damage that has occurred. Once that is done, you will then need to stitch the PT back up in layers, starting deep inside and stitching the wound closed about every 4th of an inch around a drainage tube. Once the wound is closed, you will then leave the drain tube in place in the wound to allow blood and other body fluids a way out of the wound so that they don't become trapped and cause swelling and infection ect ect.
Once the wound has healed to a point, the tube is removed and the wound closed for good with more stitches.
In your characters case, even if you manage to survive, you will never be as good as you were pre fight. It will takes months/years of physical therapy to rebuild the muscles in your back that were severed and you will eventually/shortly lose.
This means that you are going to have to rely on your friends 100%. You wont be able to shoot any weapon let alone lift/use that sword of yours. To be honest, wiping your own 4th point of contact would prove to be a chore.
Same thing goes for Tombstone. He is going to be pretty much bed/wheelchair ridden for some time.
(Note: I am NOT a MD, and this is just based off what I have seen/know. It is alot more in depth then what I have described here, but I think you get the point)
Now picture if you can, what that knife could do to a person if it was inserted multiple times into your back and neck area... even half way.
In order to treat something like this, you are going to require some kind of deep wound bleeding control.. such as packing the wound with LOTS of gauze or quick clot. (QC use though opens up a whole different can of worms though )
You would then need to operate on the patient and fix any internal damage that has occurred. Once that is done, you will then need to stitch the PT back up in layers, starting deep inside and stitching the wound closed about every 4th of an inch around a drainage tube. Once the wound is closed, you will then leave the drain tube in place in the wound to allow blood and other body fluids a way out of the wound so that they don't become trapped and cause swelling and infection ect ect.
Once the wound has healed to a point, the tube is removed and the wound closed for good with more stitches.
In your characters case, even if you manage to survive, you will never be as good as you were pre fight. It will takes months/years of physical therapy to rebuild the muscles in your back that were severed and you will eventually/shortly lose.
This means that you are going to have to rely on your friends 100%. You wont be able to shoot any weapon let alone lift/use that sword of yours. To be honest, wiping your own 4th point of contact would prove to be a chore.
Same thing goes for Tombstone. He is going to be pretty much bed/wheelchair ridden for some time.
(Note: I am NOT a MD, and this is just based off what I have seen/know. It is alot more in depth then what I have described here, but I think you get the point)
I really do enjoy reading your posts, JP, lol.
I am aware of what a bowie knife is, and what happened to me, but I really didn't feel the need to explain every single boring detail of the medical procedure, that would have spanned a few hours of in-game time. I basically am resigning my character for several pages to traveling to New York, and eventually introduce President Snow.
Right now, Patrick's back wounds were heavily gauzed and de-infected, and will probably be several times again before being stitched up.
I'm not going to pull a superman "feel no pain so my almost-mortal injuries are paper cuts!" kind of deal, no need to worry.
I will agree with jp, the knife wounds are nasty. Let's just say that Tomb and Patrick are like sliced white bread right now, except they would probably fight back if you tried to fill the gap in the slices with peanut butter and jelly.
As far as bullet wounds go, its up to the bullet and most importantly luck or god's will. Whichever you choose.
Examples include:
Man shot 'execution' style with an M-16. Missing half his face, still alive.
Attempted homicide/suicide, two headshots with no death. Attempted homicide victim suffers from mild paralysis.
If we look at it right, the would could've been a through-and-through in which case the bullet would've merely passed through and not caused any organs to be punctured. If organs were punctured then Tomb and Patrick would most likely suffer from sepsis and well become deadsies.
As far as Halon goes, woot! Only a broken nose and ribs, chicks dig battle scars.
It also looks like Halon may be in charge for awhile.
Karon, I'm afraid you don't have your weapons. Theron and Snyder didn't have time to get them between saving Patrick's as$ and having a firefight around the escape vehicle.
You'll have to make do with all the stuff in the boot for now.
Also, if you REALLY want revenge on Tombstone and "His Lot", then I've had an idea for a little while.. hehe..
lord of the ghosts wrote:May I join?
(sorry about starting a whole new thread about zombie roleplays, I just forgot how fast a roleplay is.)
I am too lazy to read all 49 pages, so I just read page 37.
What's happening?
OOH! page 50!!
If you really want to join, you will have to read the entire thread. That's my rule, that's how it's always been, and it's well worth the read anyway.
If you can't be bothered to read that, then you probably shouldn't join.
Not to mention, he created a thread to compete at my creation, so lovingly continued by silver, and Dark!
Evvvilll!
IC: Keira entered into the building in a trance. The room was in total carnage, blood spray soaked the walls, and the floor was peppered with empty casings. Keira almost slipped twice. It was only until she saw Tombstone that everything kicked into gear. Suddenly, life got real.
As Tombstone slipped out of consciousness he caught sight of Keira's face, blank, as he thought it, but in truth, it was the calm before the storm, a grim realisation of what was to come.
"TOMB" She shrieked, before sprinting over to his side. Dr. Buckley and his battered orderly were already addressing his injuries, and the Doctor, suddenly business like, no longer misogynistic, briefly looked up from his work to stare her in the face.
"You cant help save him. Your attachment to him is against regulations. No, don't hit me. Listen. If something goes wrong, you'll blame yourself. Go help the others, please. We need all the medical help we can get."
With that, the Buckley turned back to his patient and began the complex surgery to keep Tombstone alive.
Keira sat watching for a while, but turned and looked around the room. Each body lying on the floor had a small, ragtag team of survivors trying to patch them up. Most were holding basic equipment; medical supplies from the hotel, first aid kits. It would have to do.
Keira worked her way over to the first man on the ground, A biker she'd never met before, but whom she had been told was called Ajax. He was awake now, and growling like a Tiger. A pair of men were holding his arms still, whilst a young girl, too young, was fiddling with a pair of tweezers, trying to find a bullet embedded in the Bikers leg.
Ajax stared up as the woman he knew as Keira walked over,she was a friend of Stones...had been with him during the early days of the outbreak,and,if Ajax recalled the tales Stone had told him about her correctly,was damn good to have around.
The biker roared in pain as the young girl who had been working on his leg hand slipped,causing a bolt of agony to shoot through his body.
" Not to seem ungrateful sweet heart" Ajax said to the girl through gritted teeth " But perhaps it would be easier for you...and for me..if you simply found a chainsaw and cut the leg off."
Keira actually giggled at the mans statement,quickly covering her mouth so the young girl wouldn't see,she composed her self and knelt by the girl.
" Here " Keira said softly " let me show you how to do this." she offered the young girl a smile and gently moved her aside,Keira quickly administered a local anesthetic to Ajax's leg.
After a few moments,Keira prodded the wounded area, "Can you feel this?",she asked looking at Ajax who shook his head.
" Good" Keira said " You may feel some discomfort and pressure...but I'll try not to hurt you anymore.",Keira retrieved a pair of hemostats from the medical equipment on the tray before her,and gently begin her attempts to extract the bullet.
Ajax braced for another wave of pain,but to his relief none came,Keira indeed knew what she was doing.
" Tombstone said you were an amazing woman to have around." Ajax said as Keira worked the bullet from his leg.
Keira looked up at the biker "He did?",she asked slightly flustered.
Ajax nodded " Yes,...he talked quite a bit about you..over the year,seemed he was very concerned about weather you and Hog had survived the mess at Phoenix's Mansion."
Keira nodded,continuing her work on the mans leg.
" He also seemed pretty protective of you" Ajax went on "Once we ran into again...he insisted at least one of us watch over you at all times...hell..he had half of us standing guard over you when you were ...out at the Hotel."
Keira felt a wave of sadness wash over her,her last words to Tombstone had not exactly been kind ones...and now.
Ajax paused for a moment,seemingly hesitant to ask his next question " So." He finally said " Is...is Tombstone going to live?"
Keira blurted out " Of course he will...he has to!"
Ajax quickly realized he'd hit a nerve on the woman,and decided he'd do his best to alleviate her possible fears.
" Yes...Stones probably the toughest bastard I've ever encountered..I've seen him go through things that would have killed lesser men" Ajax said " I recall once...we had come across some rivals...The Snakes they were called...Stone took four of them down in a matter of seconds...he got stabbed over a dozen times in that fight...but he just wouldn't go down...he saved my ass that day as well...the mans a born fighter."
Keira stared at Ajax " I hope your right." she said,even as she thought " Even a strong man can die."
Ajax offered Keira a small smile as the woman stitched the wound in his leg, " Thank you for your kindness" he said " I can understand why Stone cares for you so much."
Keira returned the bikers smile,inside her emotions were like a storm.
Tombstone gazed into the flames for what seemed an eternity,he honestly longed to simply stay with his friends...and to be with his beloved Daisy once more..
He was weary of the world,hell he'd been weary of it long before all hell had broken loose a year ago and the dead had started to devour the living.
Now...he just didn't care anymore,Keira had been right...the world was a fething rotten carcass now...and they were like maggots...simply going through the motions of living...and trying not to become one of "them".
It would be so easy to just stay here...just refuse to go back to that whole fething existence.
" You can't stay son" One Eye said " You have to go back.."
"Why?" Tombstone asked "Why can't I stay."
One Eye laughed " Hell if I know...call it the great cosmic ballance..or gods plan...or Karma...or..whatever...it's just not your time."
" That's a pile of gak" Tombstone said " You both just said all I have to look forward to is more death ."
" If you choose the path of vengeance" Medicine Man said " There will be much blood spilled."
"Don't get all sanctimonious on me old man!" Tombstone roared " I seem to recall you breaking a few heads in your day...you too" the biker spat at One Eye " How many people did you ice in your day you old coot?...twenty..thirty...for that matter...how many people did you and King D send me after...how many people did I kill over business?..a hundred?..two hundred?...I fething lost count."
" The world was different then" One Eye said.
" Don't try to feed me that gak.."Tombstone said." I've killed people over nothing...hell..right before this gak started I killed three people over two messily kilos...and we had hundreds...I killed Sabianne for no reason other than playing both sides of the fence...and I killed Ronny the Rat simply for being at the wrong place at the wrong time....now you two want to tell me that killing that bastard Patrick is some giant path of doom....feth you both...killing him would be the most noble thing I've ever done....at least he deserves to die....he murdered our people...he..."
" Made you kill her." One Eye finished for Tombstone.
" Yes!!...god damn it!!...he shot her..but I'm the one who killed her" Tombstone roared " How could I leave her in that condition...in the world that exist now?!!...He forced me to kill the woman I love...and I will never stop until I have his heart in my hands and I watch him die!!"
" You have made your choice then" Medicine Man said softly.
Tombstone gasped as suddenly the world was filled with light and his body wracked with pain.
" God Damn it!!" Dr. Buckley bellowed " I said I want this man Anesthetized....can't you do anything properly!!?"
" I did Doctor" The assistant said humbly " I swear I did."
" No matter." Buckley said " I've finished here...For a moment or two...I didn't think this man was going to live...but ..he should pull through...continue administering the antibiotic drips...we'll just have to monitor his condition now."
OOC:...That's about it or me for today.
The Missus and I still have lots of Holiday Havoc to complete before tomorrow.
I may be on later tonight after the kids have been tucked away,but if not..May each of you have a very Merry Christmas.
FITZZ wrote: OOC:...That's about it or me for today.
The Missus and I still have lots of Holiday Havoc to complete before tomorrow.
I may be on later tonight after the kids have been tucked away,but if not..May each of you have a very Merry Christmas.
Yeah, I know. It's just like "Oh look, another day, oh look no school yay. Oh look I just rhymed. Huzzah. Oh, hey it's Christmas tomorrow. Wow. -don't care-"
Then on Christmas "1 hour of YAYPRESANTSBOOYAH" and then the rest of the day is spent fun-raeging (yes, ghosty, that was deliberate).
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Karon, I'm afraid you don't have your weapons. Theron and Snyder didn't have time to get them between saving Patrick's as$ and having a firefight around the escape vehicle.
You'll have to make do with all the stuff in the boot for now.
Also, if you REALLY want revenge on Tombstone and "His Lot", then I've had an idea for a little while.. hehe..
Very well, he is in possession of his two black rods, and I will probably RP an AK-47 into existence for him.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:One black rod, to be precise. If you remember, one was knocked away when Saunders ninja-kicked him.
Two Black Rods. Listen, Dark, I still don't know what the feth happened to my gun. He didn't just leave it on the ground or abandon it for an AK-47 which wasn't superior in that situation. The Black Rods are essential to my character, especially in the future I have events planned that require them.
That may be so, but what happened happened. If you want it back, then I'm sorry, but you're going to have to go back and get it.
As for the gun? Sure, I guess you can have it now that I think about it, considering that I remember a post at one point about him picking up his stuff..
As for the AK-47 matter, lets just say that he decided there was no need to waste his 'special ammo' in that confined location.
(Sung to the Tune: The Night Santa Went Crazy By: Weird AL
Out in the rec room, all the servants we making toys,
To deal with the walkers, who were gathering outside,
When Tomb busted in, Nearly scared em half to death,
Had a pistol in his hand, and cheap whiskey on his breath,
From his beard to his boots, he was covered in ammo,
Looking like a pissed off drunk disgruntled, mummy rapped Rambo,
And he smiled as he said, with a drunken twinkle in his eye,
Merry Christmas to All! NOW PATRICKS GUNNA DIE!!!!!!!!
The niiiiiiight Tombstone went crazy,
The night that prick went insane,
Realised he just got the wrong end of a raw deal,
Losing Daisy made him flying rodent gak insane!
Falco remained silent, studying his mysterious allies carefully.
"What? Ain't ya gonna thank us? Because I am thinking, just a hunch, that you would've died if we hadn't just help you there, well, you would've died. Isn't that so?"
"Thanks, I admit, if wasn't for you I would be dead, but what are you doing here?" Falco questioned.
""Finally, see that wasn't so hard." said their supposed leader. "We, are just some people who decided that sticking together would be beneficial for us all, and that if we did stay together, we might not meet an unfortunate end. I am thier leader, my names Carter. Simple enough, now-"
"Uh, boss, I think we should really get moving!" worried one man who was staring at what was around the bend.
"What is this John ya worry gut?" said Carter as he walked around to then stare wide-eyed at what was just around the bend. "Ok. Right now that really seems like a great idea," he turned to face Falco and the rest of his men (and women). "MOVE!!!"
Immediately everybody placed their possessions into their satchels and turned to sprint through the sewer, desperately trying to find a means of escape.
Falco stayed back, waiting for Carter to catch up.
"What is it?" Falco questioned.
"Zombies, moving fast, faster than I have ever seen."
They reached another bend and Falco briefly looked to see what was chasing them. He didn't look back again.
"So, what is your name, sunshine?"
"Falco."
"Good solid name, always reminds me of the bird. But not a very common name. Still good though."
"Do you know what I think?" Falco asked.
"What?
"I think we should stop playing the name game and concentrate on getting the f**k away from these sewers."
"Right. Agreed."
Falco, Carter, and John kept sprinting to catch up with the rest of the gang, when they saw them stop, and one of them shouted.
"Quick, c'mon there's a ladder here! Move!" before one at a time people hurriedly rushed up the ladder to the surface above until there was just Falco, Carter and John left.
As Falco was at the front, he climbed up the ladder, Carter was next.
"Dear God their just about here!" John screamed.
Carter looked back halfway up the ladder and immediately wished he didn't. Before, pulling himself up to the surface.
"C'mon John, hurry!
John started to climb the ladder before something pulled on his leg, before he felt thngs clawing at it and biting it.
"Argh!!!! ARGH!!!!!!!!!!" he screamed in pain.
"JOHN!"
Carter tried to grab hold of his hand and pull him up, but by then he had let go of the ladder, and the zombies were upon him.
"Dear Jesus! I am not going to let them try and get up here!" Carter pulled two grenades from his satchel, planted one of them on the ladder, and threw the other one down to the thin, disgusting Zombies. "Burn in hell f**kers!"
Then they walked away, and hoped that that was just what the zombies did.
Shas'ui T'au Kais wrote:
Falco, Carter, and John kept sprinting to catch up with the rest of the gang, when they saw them stop, and one of them shouted.
"Quick, c'mon there's a ladder here! Move!"[b] before one at a time people hurriedly rushed up the ladder to the surface above [/b]until there was just Falco, Carter and John left.
Tombstone opened his eyes with great effort,forcing the room into focus.
The biker blinked several times against the light,sharp pain rocketing through his head as he attempted to recall what had occurred.
The Biker attempted to sit up,huge mistake,a Wave of agony rolled over him causing grey spots to swim before his eyes,for a moment Tombstone felt as though he was going to black out,but gradually the dizziness subsided and he was able to bring his surroundings into focus.
He cautiously looked about,discovering he was in a bed,a hospital bed to be precise,he was aware of various cables and tubes running away from him to numerous machines and IV poles.
His memories came crashing back in,the battle with Patrick and his goons hadn't gone so well for the bikers..."How many did we loose?" Tombstone thought for a moment " Woolly and T-Rex were dead for sure" he recalled , " Tasha?...Ajax?...Saunders?...had they made it?" The biker wasn't sure.
He accessed his own condition,remembering he'd been tagged twice by Patrick,hit in the chest and the stomach,he felt a great deal of pain,but had obviously survived...he attempted to look at his wounds,but found he was to weak to do so.."Guess I got popped pretty fething good" the biker thought.
Tombstone recalled stabbing Patrick,over and over again..."Was that son of a bitch dead?"..No,he thought..."No he's still alive" Tombstone remembered his visions with One Eye and Medicine Man..." He's still alive!",the biker felt a hot wave of fury engulf him...all those people dead....and Patrick still lived..."He's going to die." The biker whispered " If I have to drag him into hell myself...he's going to die.".
Dr. Buckley entered the room and seemed a bit surprised to see that the biker was awake,he frowned for a moment and then spoke.
" Feeling some discomfort are you?" The Doctor said " That's to be expected...actually I surprised your alive,was touch and go for a moment or two."
The Doctor drew some liquid from a vial into a syringe and injected it to one of the IV ports,Tombstone was almost instantly aware of his pain subsiding.
" Hey Doc." The biker whispered,his throat feeling raw and sore " Did any of my people make it?"
Dr. Buckley looked at the floor for a moment and replied " You need your rest...you needn't be concerned about that now."
"Please Doc" Tombstone said " I have to know...are my people alright?"
" Very well" Dr. Buckley sighed " The men you called Woolly and T-Rex had both perished on the scene...I could do nothing for either of them."
Tombstone nodded slightly,he had known this.
Dr. Buckley continued " The man ..Ajax..will make a complete recovery...he was quite fortunate...several gunshot wounds and not a single one hitting a vital organ...he's recuperating as we speak."
Tombstone nodded again,happy to hear that,he paused and then asked " What about Tasha...and Saunders?"
Dr. Buckley frowned again " The young lady...was critically injured...two gunshot wounds in her abdomen..quite severe...I've operated on her...repaired the damage...however...she is still in critical condition...we have her on 24 hour observation...the next 48 hours will be crucial."
Before Tombstone could say anything Buckley continued,his face tight and pinched.." And as for Saunders...I examined him once....I..I have no idea what to make of the man...and I use that term loosely...as obviously he's been...changed,...his wounds are all healing...on their own...he's been placed in isolation and is under constant observation....whatever abominable experiments where done to that man...they seem to have saved his life."
Tombstone slowly nodded.
" You need to rest." Dr. Buckley said quickly " Your still officially in critical condition..." The man turned for the door.
" Hey Doc." Tombstone said " I want to thank you...you saved my ass..and my people...I appreciate that...especially since I know you don't really care for any of us."
Dr.Buckley appeared to have been punched in the stomach,his face drawing up tightly,he paused and his features relaxed " I took an oath to preserve life...regardless of my personal feelings."
" Still" Tombstone slurred as he drifted back into sleep " Thank you just the same."
(no offense 
).
.
You actually have to put lines together yourself. 
...But I don't want death on my head...I prefer something more festive.
..Well Feth..,Oh well...a little suspense just adds flavor to the carnage I suppose.. 
