Pretty much everybody in the world is missing or dead, buildings are in a severe state of disrepair, and your character has no idea why they are still around.
Post the atrributes and physical qualities of your character. I would recommend using youself, changing your name and a some other things about yourself if you so wish.

Follow this tmplete
Name:
Age:
Physical Characteristics/Abilites:
History:

For now just get your character info down, then we'll work on the story.

Name: David Mondello
Age: 15
Physical: 5' 1", Close cropped brown hair, hazel eyes, Three horizontal scars on left bicpep, scar on back of right hand
Abilities: Skilled climber, skilled in submission holds, knows freestyle and Greco Roman wrestling.

I will have a go then,

Name: Drake Diaz
Age: 19
Physical: 5'9", black semi bowl cut, brown eyes, burn mark in the middle of fore head, and scar above eyebrow.
Abilities: Deadly with baseball bats.

Name: Fred (Frederick) Kidd
Age: 20
Physical Characteristics: 6'5", slim but fit. Short brown hair that sticks up naturally, green eyes. Wears glasses that have been repaired several times.
History: Before all of this happened, Fred was a swim instructor and Youth Leader, and an avid outdoorsman with half an English degree and experience in Group theories and conflict management.
Abilites: As might be expected: Solid knowledge of first aid and rescue techniques, experience camping, hiking, backpacking, climbing, kayaking, and canoeing.

(Hmm, feels very Marty Stu ish to list it all off like that, but it's true)

ill join

Name: Steve 'ghosty' Paulson
Age: 18
Physical Characteristics: 6 foot, bulky build, thick matted brown dreadlocks, blind in one eye, eye colours grey. broken nose,
Abilities/profession: no job occupation, used to do alot of mountin biking, diving and swimming. has an unnerving knowledge of the many uses of a hammer...

Ghosty doesnt talk much about his past, except he has had run ins with the law on no less than three seperate occasions. he woke up after the apocalypse with a broken nose and blind in one eye.

I'll join!!

i say we dont start together? like we start in different palces and after a while meet up? and can we have enemies? like you know, zombies or IAMLEGEND monsters, OR something else. its just it would spice it up a bit....

i say we dont start together? like we start in different palces and after a while meet up? and can we have enemies? like you know, zombies or IAMLEGEND monsters, OR something else. its just it would spice it up a bit....

ghosty wrote:i say we dont start together? like we start in different palces and after a while meet up? and can we have enemies? like you know, zombies or IAMLEGEND monsters, OR something else. its just it would spice it up a bit....

That's the idea I had in mind. Start off in your home state, but not necessarily home town. Start your story about a week from the
as of yet unknown apocalypse, so we can get a feel for the character.
As for enemies, I was plannin on incorporating them, but they would be other survivors who turned into Raider/Slavers like in fallout 3.

Don't start yourself off with weapons, make it so you have to explore and ccan only carry as much equipment as you could comfortably in real life,
obviously though you'd be able to carry more as time goes on.

This should be a good enough group for now, so if anybody else want's to join, pm with your profile, and then I'll decide if your character would work in the story
, if so you are allowed.

wait wait wait! a weeka fter of before the apocalypse?

lord of the ghosts wrote:I'll join!!

my char.:
John Thunderhorse
always, even in sleep, wears a green hoodie and jeans
Age:12
woke with blood on his hands...in a bathroom...locked from the outside...with food for a year....

ghosty wrote:wait wait wait! a weeka fter of before the apocalypse?

Before. Now remember, you're playing an exaggerrated version of yourself, i.e,
if you're like me constantly aggravated, you'd be borderline homocidal.

ok shall we start?

Steve slowly woke up in bed, bleary eyed and exhausted. broken bottles were drained around him. he slowly dragged himself out of his bed, and stumbled over to his bathroom. life sucked

{[] is in my mind {} is OOC}
[yum.]
OH MY GORK
A MANGA!!!
*starts to read*

THREAD JACK!
as this thread has gone knowhere, and nothings really happened, shall we continue it ourselves?it had a lot of potential in my opinion. anyone else is welcome to join

Steve tasted blood first. the hot metallic taste at the back of his raw throat. next, came back a dull throbbing feeling at the back of his head that intensified with each passing second. he started to regain consciousness. slowly his hearing returned. his ears were ringing, but he could make out the sound of the wind screaming around him. he tried to move, but found he was unable too. panic bloomed in the pit of his stomach as he desperately attempted to muster even a faint wiggle of his fingers. more senses came back to him. he smelt asphalt. slowly his eyes flickered and opened. except something was wrong. he couldnt see out of one. a fresh wave of pure panic washed over him. with a sudden jerking movement he proppelled himself forwards, blindly colliding with something as he staggered around. he saw spots in front of his eyes, and he blacked out briefly. Steve reached out and blindly grabbed something to steady himself on. he looked at it with his one good eye. he fell back with shock. he had been leaning on a person. the man had been rather unlucky, he had been impaled by what apeared to be bits of barbed,wire. they punctured through his body all over, standing the man like a grotesque puppet. Steve desperately tried to remember what happened to him, and why he was next to a mutilated corpse. nothing was coming back to him. he fumbled the back of his head...it was sore to the touch. he concentrated on trying to remember anything, but succeeded with nothing (he has amnesia). after this he staggered forwards, out oh the rubble that surrounded him, and into what seemed to be a bathroom. it was shattered and desolate. cracks ran up the wall, but a mirror still hung on the wall. he looked at the reflection of himself with despair. his nose was broken, and flattened. his left eyelid was unopenable, and was seeping blood and pus. this wasnt a good sign. he looked at himself with growing concern. cuts and bruises, and he felt maybe 2 broken ribs. Steve was covered in grime and blood, and vomit was splattered on some of his dread locks. What the hell had happened??


OK guys, everyones welcome to play the game is simple, just roleplay it out. a few key rules though.
1. dont be OP
2. its best if we start in a similar area, you know cos otherwise itd be uneventful
3.please try to make your comments desipherable (the one above leaves much to be desired )
4. this is just temporary till golden eyes back with us
5. please dont be afraid to join in itll be fun

ghosty wrote:THREAD JACK!
as this thread has gone knowhere, and nothings really happened, shall we continue it ourselves?it had a lot of potential in my opinion. anyone else is welcome to join

Steve tasted blood first. the hot metallic taste at the back of his raw throat. next, came back a dull throbbing feeling at the back of his head that intensified with each passing second. he started to regain consciousness. slowly his hearing returned. his ears were ringing, but he could make out the sound of the wind screaming around him. he tried to move, but found he was unable too. panic bloomed in the pit of his stomach as he desperately attempted to muster even a faint wiggle of his fingers. more senses came back to him. he smelt asphalt. slowly his eyes flickered and opened. except something was wrong. he couldnt see out of one. a fresh wave of pure panic washed over him. with a sudden jerking movement he proppelled himself forwards, blindly colliding with something as he staggered around. he saw spots in front of his eyes, and he blacked out briefly. Steve reached out and blindly grabbed something to steady himself on. he looked at it with his one good eye. he fell back with shock. he had been leaning on a person. the man had been rather unlucky, he had been impaled by what apeared to be bits of barbed,wire. they punctured through his body all over, standing the man like a grotesque puppet. Steve desperately tried to remember what happened to him, and why he was next to a mutilated corpse. nothing was coming back to him. he fumbled the back of his head...it was sore to the touch. he concentrated on trying to remember anything, but succeeded with nothing (he has amnesia). after this he staggered forwards, out oh the rubble that surrounded him, and into what seemed to be a bathroom. it was shattered and desolate. cracks ran up the wall, but a mirror still hung on the wall. he looked at the reflection of himself with despair. his nose was broken, and flattened. his left eyelid was unopenable, and was seeping blood and pus. this wasnt a good sign. he looked at himself with growing concern. cuts and bruises, and he felt maybe 2 broken ribs. Steve was covered in grime and blood, and vomit was splattered on some of his dread locks. What the hell had happened??


OK guys, everyones welcome to play the game is simple, just roleplay it out. a few key rules though.
1. dont be OP
2. its best if we start in a similar area, you know cos otherwise itd be uneventful
3.please try to make your comments desipherable (the one above leaves much to be desired )
4. this is just temporary till golden eyes back with us
5. please dont be afraid to join in itll be fun

Sorry, haven't had a chance to post for a few days.

Dave woke up, his back nd neck hurting like a cast iron bitch. His vision was blurry, and he looked around for a pair of glasses.
His fingers closed on the familiar lenses,and he brought them to his face. It was a bad idea. The forests he had loved so much of his hometown had all burnt
down, naught but ash and tinder. Looking about wildly, Dave realised he was lying on the roof of his house. Still sore and confused, he crawled to
where the porch was below the roof, a few feet's drop. Grabbing the gutter tightly, he lowered himself. When he felt his fingers slip, he dropped.
"Sonuvabitch!" he screamed, coming down on his right ankle, sending intense pain through it.
For a few minutes he rolled around in pain, trying to gather himself. When at last Dave could, he found the sliding glass door broken open,with a
trail of dried mud leading in.
Intrigued, he limped inside. The smell assaulted him. At the kitchen table, lay his parents, dead.
His father's corpse held a piece of paper. Horrified, Davd plucked it, and read it.

"Dear David,
Your mother and I love you more then you can know. But rather then make you see us suffer, we choose to
end it on our terms. We'll see you in Heaven."

It was signed with both their signatures. Dropping the letter, Dave looked at the table. On it was a newspaper.
He took it in his hands, adn read the headlines.

"IRAN WITHDRAWS FROM U.N, OCCUPATION OF ISREAL CONTINUES."
The article continued, and it gave refference to a bizarre biological weapon currently being nvestigated.
Dave dropped the paper too. It listed soulcrushing statistics. Millions dead throughout the Middle East, Southwest Asia, nad Eastern Europe.

Several hours later, Dave set out on his bike, backpack containing water bottles, power bars, food, lighter and fluid, and afew books.
Also on his back was a duffel bag with clothes, blankets, and a sleeping bag.
He had found a small hand crank radio in the basment, alongside two knives. The radio blasted static, but had occasionally broken into jumbled words.
When the sun set Dave settleddown for the night, making a small fire. it gave no warmth to him, and he found no sleep that night.

His mind raced, making up theories as to what had happened.
Nuclear war? Possible.
Biological terrorism? Highly Probable.
The return of Christ? Doubtful.

When te sun rose, Dave began riding again. He couldn't help but remember reading The Stand.
How ironic.

2 days had passed since he had woken up. in that time he had left his ruined house and cautiously wandered around the now empty city. but Steve could not help but feel something was watching him. three days after setting out from his house he reached the crator. the entire city fell away into a huge crator miles wide and a mile deep. he fell to his knees in horror. then he heard something. a quiet scratching from the nearby car....he cautiously moved towards it...

[I'm bored]
John has read 45 6" in.(or 7.5 cm) long mangas, nonstop.
"What else is in here?"
"A KEYBOARD!!!!!"
*starts to play techno*

Name: Dan
Age:19
Physical Characteristics/Abilites:tall dark brown short hair, scars all over fore head, has handeld a few fire arms and posibly most important an lick his elbow (i realy can!!!)
History:play video games constantly and warhammer 40k.

dan awoke feelin a trible pain in his left hand looking own at it he saw what looked like his hobby knife
and blacked out for a few minuites. when he reawoke he pulled the hobby knife out of his hand and
looked at his reflection in the shattered mirror bruises all over. he then looked past the mirror at the window
every thing was gone. half an hour he left the house with a rucksack with water chocolate his psp and a long knife
as he walked down the stret he herd a muffeled voice that sounded like "a keyboard" coming from a uined house he foun a guy in a green hoodie playing tehno.

*continues playing techno*

"well arent you going to say thanks for me rescuing you??"
*kicks keyboard
"ohh manga"

Hi. Take as much as you want.

" well are we going to find some one elseto help us ion our magical adventure???"

flicks through manga
"wow this is like 4 months old"

throws manga at john

Name: Harry (a.k.a Hazza, Hendo ect)
Age: 16 (and a 3/4 )
Physical Characteristics/Abilities: 5'9". Fit, good runner. Plenty of stamina. Recreational climber (make of that what you will). Blond. Blue eyes. Strong simmer, can surf as well. Strong enough, but not well versed in any combat arts. Knows the National Rainforest out in his backyard well enough to evade others. Fiercly loyal to family and friends. Not a natural leader (in my opinion) but willing to take orders and help. Father has given me a few lesson in driving our old Army Truck. (And I mean old) I don't have the typical Surfie 'Gung-Ho' attidue but as Golden Scout said, we're supposed to exagerrate a little.
History: A bit of foreign travel, collection of Arabic knives and even a shield. Loves Australia, was born and bred there. Hometown situated north of Brisbane. Used to traveling on my own.

OOC: Before I get into this, I'd just like to know where we are. Is everyone in America? I'm just asking cos me waking up in little old Aus means I won't be able to help anyone over in the states. (I could have been on holidays when the Apoc happened or something.)

OOC: I thought it was supposed to be a week before the apocolypse? Meh, I'm in.

Harry woke from a pleasent dream. He'd been dreaming that he was in a taxi, waving goodebye to his Uncle who he'd visited, and was heading to the airport. That's right. He was supposed to catch the 117 to Melbourne, then get another one up to Brisbane. After that he'd have to hitch-hike or grab a bus up the rest of the way.

Wait...he sat up in the backseat of the car. that wasn't a dream. He WAS supposed to have caught the 117. So what was he still doing in the taxi? And where was the driver?

Why weren't they moving? Feth, how long had he been asleep? He better not have missed the plane. He got outside, looking up. It was darkening...and he'd fallen asleep in the morning...This was not good. He didn't have the cash to pay for a whole other flight. And now that he thought about it, the moon hadn't nearly been full last night either. What was going on?

A thought came to him. Why was it so quiet? He looked around, the taxi had been parked in the middle of the street. A main road. So why wasn't anyone else in sight?

GES: It would be good if we could get a narrator, because it often turns lopsided when the characters sort out there own fights, and you dont want anyone becoming superman

I will post my char stuff later.

Lord-Loss wrote:GES: It would be good if we could get a narrator, because it often turns lopsided when the characters sort out there own fights, and you dont want anyone becoming superman

I will post my char stuff later.

What does RLKEMENTE mean?

Serious?

I dont get it...

Get it now? The 'O Rly?' owl? As in 'Oh Really?'

Yes, I know the O RLY? Owl. But what is the other Owl saying, I cant read half-mangled english well?

*facepalm*

It's Spanish. See the hat? I'm very sure I just got inverse trolled.

Oh........lol.

Anyway, back On Topic. Could Golden Eye Scout make an appearance? I'd hate for this thread to die off before it's really begun.

Harry walked through the deserted streets. There was no movement, no sign of life at all. But there was a smell, a tangy sort of stench that hung on the tounge. It tasted disgusting, like off -milk.

A dog ran out in front of him, pausing in the middle of the road. It looked scruffy, sickly looking, probably a stray. It was big too, some sort of husky/alasation mutt. But what's more, it was fat. This thing had been eating well. Harry walked towards it, the sun had now fully dissapeared over the horizon, and it was the only living thing he'd seen all day. It growled and scurried off into a side alley. Harry raced after it, he didn't even really know why, it was just a dumb dog. But there'd been something about that mutt, something that just didn't jell with him. Something...wrong.

As he ran down the alleyway the sickly smell grew stronger, almost making him gag. He turned a corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. There was no sign of the dog, even though it was a dead end. But Harry had forgotten all about the dog. Illuminated by a flickering light overhead, he could see blood sprayed against the walls, handprints and streaks marking the whole area. Stacked up ontop of eachother, like plywood, were the corpses of at least 20 people, all in differing stages of composition. They were all dressed like regular folk, some were builders, some servicemen, some baggy teens, others were little kids. Harry wasn't paying attention to this though. Their blank, sightless eyes were wide open, faces frozen in expressions of abject terror. Those misty eyes stared straight at him.

Harry ran, stumbling through garbage cans and rubbish bags. He sprinted out of the alleyway, into the open night sky, sobbing. Lurching, he fell to his knees. He threw up. He vomited until there was nothing but bile left. Wiping his mouth, he crawled over to a doorstep, crouching into a ball, crying wretchedly. After a while, he ran out of tears too, and he simply stared numbly into his knees.

Suddenly, a light illiuminated him, and he could hear an engine. It was loud, a bike. Other than that, Harry couldn't think. He was never very good with car models anyway. He only watched Top Gear for the laughs. With a jolt, he realised that if someone was riding a bike, that meant someone was there. Someone ALIVE. With newfound energy Harry leapt up running into the middle of the road.

"Hey!" He shouted. Waving at the approaching rider. "Hey! Stop! I'm right here! Pull over, mate!"

The bike stopped, and a figure stepped off. Harry couldn't see, the light was too bright. But he could hear the footsteps as the figure stepped towards him on the bitchiment.

OOC: How's that, eh? I got a bit nervous WRITING some of that stuff.

as dan was reading the manga he heared an engine he went out side to see the engine had stopped he saw two figures
the man of of the motor bike and some other stranger walking to wards him
"HEY HEY OVER HERE" he shouted
they both looked in his direction

OOC: Don't forget grammar and punctuation. And try to build up the story a little, will ya? It's not exactly conceivable that we all meet like that at the same time. We probably meet somewhere else.

Name: Larry Leneard (LL)
Height: 6"0
Sex: Male
Description: Short, dark black hair, kind of weedy, a long scar runs down the right side of his face.

Larry woke up, he felt concrete below him and his head hurt, it hurt alot. Grumbling, his touched his hand to his head, he nearly passed out when he saw blood on his hand. Larry sat up, he was in a small dark room, it ooks like a shed.

It was dark in this room, Larry looked up at the ceiling, large, dead animals were hanging from the ceiling, well he thought they looked like animals. Larry pulled himself off of the floor, he started to feel around the side of the room, looking for a exit. Larry tripped, arms flailing, trying to grab onto anything, his hands touched meat, he held on. He had grabbed onto one of the "dead animals" hanging from the ceiling. "Thanks buds, even in death, duty does not end" he chuckled as he regained his balance, quoting a line from his hobby Warhammer 40k.

Larry heaved himself up, and looked at the thing he grabbed onto for the first time. "Ahh, what the feth!" It wasnt an animal Larry had held onto, it was a person, a dead person, and now Larry's eyes had started adjusting to the darkness, he could see more and more dead people hanging from the ceiling, all cut up grusomely.

Larry could feel his trousers getting warm, he didnt even notice that he had pissed himself, as he ran out of the door. Not knowing that things were going to get much, much worse.

Ghosty was looking into the entrance of a warehouse. He had spent days wandering the streets near the crator until he stumbled into a scene likened to hell. A building filled with corpses. Corpses of people who seemed to have fled there for safety. But they were alld ead now. All of them dead. Corpses with bullet holes in them. It was pretty disconcerting, when you think your the last man alive, and you see a room transformed into a grissly abbatoir. So he had done the sensible thing, and ran.

Now, he was at the edge of the city, near a military warehouse. He knew he needed to go in there, to look for supplies, and more importently, something to protect himself with. He hadnt shaken the feeling that something was watching him. Sometimes, he would see a flitting shadow, or maybe he might here talking. He knew he must be imagining it, but....all the same.

However, now at the threshold of the warehouse he wasnt really sure he wanted to go in. a horrible fetid stench erupted from the Mouth of the warehouse, and the security guard hut had been trashed. Recently. He finally plucked up the courage and stepped into the pitch black, and, presently, he was creeping amongst masses of crates looking for something. Halfway down an aisle, large wooden crates too his left and right, he heard something that made his heart skip a beat. A loud ringing clang. The door he had entered through had slammed shut. The wind? Impossible, their hadnt been any since he woke up, which meant...

No, it probably just swang back on its hinges. All the same, ghosty thought. Its best to go check. Thats when he saw it. A metal gas canister, rolled across the floor from behind a crate about 30 metres from him. In the complete silence of the warehouse, the noise was deafening, suffocating, terrifying. Heart hammering in his chest, hands shaking like a leaf, and with cold sweat plastering his T-shirt to his back, he crept towards the cannister. Seconds, unbearable seconds, passed as he got closer and closer. Until, until he was at the corner of the crate. Whatever had knocked the metal gas cylinder (of considerable size and weight, ghosty noted) was around the corner, in the shadows. Summoning up the last dregs of his courage, he slowly looked round the corner with his good eye.

Nothing was there. He relaxed a little and crept round the corner, towards a primising looking box. He froze. Something was crouching just at the edge of his peripheral vision. Something that he couldnt make out, but by then he had already began to feel his stomach contract. He was about to be sick with terror.

So sorry that I haven't gotten to this thread in a while. I honestly forgot about it for a while.

To answer questions that have popped up, the story takes place in the United States of America.

Specifically, it starts in Pennsylvania, for my own storytelling reasons that have yet to be revealed.

As for your stories so far, sorry if I feth them up with this bit of info.
I'll take a look at them, and see if i can help you figure out how to rework them so they aren't a waste of hardwork.

As for narraration, I'll take care of that, unless anybody else has objections.

Now, to provide some structure, your character will start anywhere in PA really, but not in Philadelphia or Harrisburg. Once again, my own storytelling reasons.
On to plot points.

Your first objective is to reach Philadelphia. In your next posts, decide which areas of the state you will start in.
More then one person can be in a county, but you must start at opposite ends so that it provides some tension and you don't automatically find another survivor.

Here is a map of the counties, so that you can decide.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fileennsylvania-counties-map.gif

Sorry if I pissed anybody off with this turn of events.

I am in Monroe county at this post.

Once again, sorry if I pissed anybody off with this.

@Golden Eyed Scout: If you read my post, you'll figure that I'm in Monroe as well. (Unless you want me to change it)

Emperors Faithful wrote:@Golden Eyed Scout: If you read my post, you'll figure that I'm in Monroe as well. (Unless you want me to change it)

That works fine for me. Just to let you know, it's a regualr bike, but I'm changing it to motorcycle cause that sounds cool.

OT:

Dave looked at the shaking figure. He reached his left hand down to his hip, where the knife was strapped securely to his belt. He loosened the catch.

"Thanks mate. I thought I was the only one." The voice had an accent. Austrailan, he wondered?

"Take one more step and I'll gut you like a fish." As he spoke, the knife came out into his left hand, in a reverse grip.

The figure stopped, and put it's hands in the air. They shook wildly.

Dave got off and slowly advanced on the figure. The light from the bike blinded the figure.

"On you knees, now. Eyes closed." Dave commanded.

The figure dropped, and Dave moved closer. He suddenly smelt piss.

"Name, place of origin, and location of any weapons. If I think your lying, I start slicing and won't stop until you pass out."

The figure dropped to the ground, blacked out from fear.

Dave slid the knife away, and searched the body. He found a wallet with a driver's liscense stating the figure was Harry.
Dave tied the body up, and dragged it into the house "Harry" had come from.

OOC: Feth, mate. Not exactly a friendly enconter, was it? BTW, what house are you talking about?

OOC: ^^ hehe just goes to show, if your in an apocalypse you dont play nice

btw whuts the 'bad guys' gonna be?
i really want zombies, or crazy running ghouls, or summit scary ^^ own preferances. ofc the thing watching me atm could be just a normal guy.....up to you golden

ok ill start again in northampton as ive met two peple

as dan awoke he could smell blood, and lots of it. he looked round
he couldnt see any thing but blood and rubble. he could feel a pain in his leg
owww his hobby knife he pulled it out . hmmm no blood he thought to him self.
then he looked inside the wound the blood had clotted so he must have been
out for a while.
he pocketed the knife, a flask of water, some super glue and his PSP and got out of the rubble
he thought to himself why couldn't I be back in England?

Dan went down to the shooting range to se what weapons he could find
when he reached the shooting range he found a MK.23 and 10 rounds.....

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: Feth, mate. Not exactly a friendly enconter, was it? BTW, what house are you talking about?

When meeting someone new, I always do that. The house you siad your character was crying on the stoop of.

ghosty wrote:OOC: ^^ hehe just goes to show, if your in an apocalypse you dont play nice

btw whuts the 'bad guys' gonna be?
i really want zombies, or crazy running ghouls, or summit scary ^^ own preferances. ofc the thing watching me atm could be just a normal guy.....up to you golden

I been thinking about that. Still am. For now, just worry about the story, and don't worrry about your character needing weapons. You won't need them for a little while.

Golden Eyed Scout wrote:

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: Feth, mate. Not exactly a friendly enconter, was it? BTW, what house are you talking about?

When meeting someone new, I always do that. The house you siad your character was crying on the stoop of.

Well, how did we get in?

P.S. Everyone here seems to be doing a lot of wetting themselves or wetting others, and I've noticed this on other Roleplay threads as well. Is this a fasctination or something on Dakka?

IR:

Harry opened his eyes. The room was dark. It looked like they were in some sort of store. A bakery? In the corner of his eyes he could make out the figure of his captor, leaning against the door. He tried to move, but his hands were wound tightly.

"Feth!" He swore silently. Just as he thought he found help, the guy pulls a knife on him. Back in Dubai, they'd just been kids waving thier toys around, but this guy looked serious. Harry took a sniff, and swore again. He'd wet himself? Man, that was weak. He squirmed around a little, but couldn't loosen the rope. Dammit, he thought. This guy knew his stuff.

Turning over, Harry felt something clink against his hip. His eyes lit up, his lucky knife! It was an ornate piece of work, encrusted with stones and ending in a wicked curve. Perfect for digging into someones ribs. Not that he'd ever done anything like that. It was rusty, and probably worth squat, but he'd had it since forever. Well...5 years. Now, if only he could reach it...

Larry emerged into a city centre. He had been running for an hour, he slowed down, glancing around him he could see a line of shops and resturants on either side of the road. He could see a bakery not far away. Larry's stomach grumbled. "Guess Im getting dinner" he muttered to himself. "Hmmm, Im in the mood for a pasty". As Larry got closer and closer to the bakery, he got more and more worried. Most of the shops have got broken windows and rubbish littered the road. He could hear distant car alarms going off. "What the feth is going off" he muttered to himself. As Larry ran past "Shoe Zone" he could see a figure leaning against the window. "Hello!" he shouted "Who are you!?!" Larry waked slowly towards the shop. He stopped when he was about three metre's away.

Larry cried out, it wasnt a person leaning against the window, but a roating corpse. Maggot infested eyeballs stared at him. And for the second time that day. Larry wet himself and ran away.

OOC: well ill say when i have a looksy theirs knowone there

Ghosty span round yelling out as he did so, fists raised ready to fight. Knowone was there. He, however knew someone had been there. He knew he had seen something. For the first time, he thought it perhaps wasnt the best idea going into a warehouse without a light. So many dark shadows, so many corners for unseen creatures of his mind to lurk behind. he gathered himself together, and, obviously shaken, he began to rummage in an open crate. He was in luck. Sitting inside was items he could use, things that made him feel safe. Lying in the straw packaging was a set of night vision goggles. Next to them, a gasmask and near the bottom, wrapped carefully in bubblewrap was some kevlar vambraces and kneepads. Laughing as his fortune, forgetting about his unknown stalker, he strapped his arm and leg protection on and pocketing the gasmask, and applying the nightviision goggles, he crept out into the darkness. No more shadows, no more fear. He raided another box, rewarding him with a pair of military boots. Better than trainers. Lastly, just before he left, he spotted a Sledgehammer lying nochelantly near an office, with a door mysteriously ripped off it hinges. Eyes lit up, he apporached the hammer. Picking it up, memories and happiness filled him. He was ready for anything now. Leaving the warehouse behind him, Ghosty placed the Nightvis goggles in his backpakc and strode off down the road.

About three blocks away a person Steve had never met in his life came across a corpse in a decomposed state leaning against the window.

OOC: i didnt wanna get a gun. guns seem so silly when theirs nothing really around to attack him. Instead i got a hammer ^^ oh i love hammers. and all the gear i got should be enough for the entire RP. I was gonna get a gilly suit aswell but i thought tbh, thats a bit over the top....

this isnt my fault i watched the film wilderness the other day and ive kinda got into a minor obsession with it. now my char jsut needs a crossbow, some beartraps and a pack of trained to kill dogs........ ^^

and a gilly suit

Emperors Faithful wrote:

Golden Eyed Scout wrote:

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: Feth, mate. Not exactly a friendly enconter, was it? BTW, what house are you talking about?

When meeting someone new, I always do that. The house you siad your character was crying on the stoop of.

Well, how did we get in?

P.S. Everyone here seems to be doing a lot of wetting themselves or wetting others, and I've noticed this on other Roleplay threads as well. Is this a fasctination or something on Dakka?

IR:

Harry opened his eyes. The room was dark. It looked like they were in some sort of store. A bakery? In the corner of his eyes he could make out the figure of his captor, leaning against the door. He tried to move, but his hands were wound tightly.

"Feth!" He swore silently. Just as he thought he found help, the guy pulls a knife on him. Back in Dubai, they'd just been kids waving thier toys around, but this guy looked serious. Harry took a sniff, and swore again. He'd wet himself? Man, that was weak. He squirmed around a little, but couldn't loosen the rope. Dammit, he thought. This guy knew his stuff.

Turning over, Harry felt something clink against his hip. His eyes lit up, his lucky knife! It was an ornate piece of work, encrusted with stones and ending in a wicked curve. Perfect for digging into someones ribs. Not that he'd ever done anything like that. It was rusty, and probably worth squat, but he'd had it since forever. Well...5 years. Now, if only he could reach it...

Dave watched out of the corner of his eye, faking sleep. It was entertaining to see him try and get free. It gave him quite a bit of insight into Harry.
Harry twisted and moved his wrists every which way, trying to loosen the ropes. He tried not to smile as he heard the slight rasp of a knife sliding clear of a sheath.
"Slimy bastard." Thought Dave.
Let's see where this goes, Dave decided. He saw the ropes fall to the side. Harry got up, and ready his knife in a standard grip. Well, not quite.
His hand shook more then a little as he inched closer. Dave got a look at it. It was impractical and gaudy, with jewels studded all around it's curving length.
When Harry was three feet away, he readied the knife, and prepared to lunge at Dave. That was when he struck. His eyes snapped open, and he smiled wickedly.

The KA-BAR rested against his thigh, still in it's sheath, but withing easy reach. Dave sweep kicked, taking Harry's feet from him. The knife slid out of reach of Harry.
Dave immediately got to his feet, kicked Harry in the ribs twice, then grabbed his left ankle. Placing it firmly between his thighs, he fell down onto Harry.
Acting swiftly, he placed a chinlock on Harry, and completed the Step Over Toe Sleeperhold. Harry struggled for a few moments, then began to stop.
When the motion had ended, Dave let go and got up. He took two steps to the fallen weapon when hands grabbed his ankle, and pulled hard.
Dave dropped like a sack of potatoes, going down backwards. He managed to tuck his head in, and avoid a concussion. Harry was up, and had something in his hands.
Dimly Dave realized it was a piece of masonry. It came down hard into his stomach, and blasted the air from his chest. Harry
readied for another strike, and Dave brought his right leg up, and manged to score a kick behind Harry's ear. His face went blank, and he swayed. He stumbled back
and fell against a wall. His knife was right next to him. Realizing this, he grabbed it up, and stod again. Dave jumped to his feet, and the blade was there.

Harry came at him, with wild, uncoordinated slashes. Dave dodged these easily. When Harry took another step to get back into range, Dave came
with an upward strike, cutting open the front ofHarry's shirt and drawing a bright red line. He hadn't put enough behind it to draw blood.

"Damn. I'd really hate to have to kill you now." Dave said. Harry responded, and Dave expected it fully.

"You sick feth, you nearly killed me!" Harry screamed. He came agin, but this time faster, less off balance. The strikes were still wild though, and he left his right arm open
, even when he came up to guard. Dave readied his knife as Harry came on again, screaming obscenities as he did so.

Time seemed to slow for Dave. Things came into focus, colors sharper. As adrenaline flooded his bloodstream, Dave acted, his mind no longer controlling his
body. Instinct took over. Primal visions flooded his mind, though he would not process them till later. Memories long ago ingrained in his DNA awoke, strong in their intensity.
His body felt like it was weighed down, though in reality, he moved faster then he ever had.

His right arm came up, and grasped Harry's wrist. He pulled, and Harry stumbled closer, left leg far out, leaving his already off balanced body in an even worse position. Dave's knee came up, into the groin. Harry dropped the knife. But he was not done. Dave's head snapped forward, slamming into Harry's nose. The KA-BAR
slashed in, sealing the deal. A bright splash of blood came, brighter then any red Dave had ever seen.

Harry dropped, grasping the torn tendon of his wrist. Dave stood before him, and spoke again.

"That knife is for decoration only, imbalanced and unfit to much more then look pretty in some collectors case. You attack without taking into
consideration what will happen to your balance. Your strikes are better suited towards a straight blade, as you don't possess the finese to manipulate
all the advantages they can provide. And you overthink stuff, unwilling to follow you natural body rhythm."

Dave knelt down, and saw that Harry had lost a lot of blood in just a few moments. he pulled out a .22 shell from his pocket, as well as his lighter.
He cracked the cap off the top, and shook the gunpowder out onto Harry's wrist.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

The flame hit the gunpowder, and answered his question. He leapt up, screaming. The flame had done it's work though. The gunpowder had cauterized the wound,
preventing the blood from escaping. Harry fell back, in too much pain and agony to even whimper.

Davetook a bottle of pills from his bag, and shook out four. Harry tried to crawl away, but he trapped him, and forced him to swallow the painkillers.
Harry glared at him, but didn't do much else. Dave picked him up and set him down in the same corner he'd been tied up in. Harry had passed out. Again.

"Well, all said and done, that went surprisingly well." Dave said cheerfully as he laid down for true sleep.

OOC: Nice fight! But I am curious as to why you are so hostile?

Harry woke up, and rubbed his wrist gingerly, which still felt like it was burning. At first, everything seemed like a blur. He ran the back of his wirst against his nose and saw blood, dried blood. Feth. Had he been in a fight or something? The he remembered. Damn, that guy had been playing with him. And for a second he'd thought he was on top.

He hit his head against the wall. Why the feth was he so stupid. This wasn't any schoolyard brawl, this was a real situation. This guy was a fighter, maybe a killer, who knows how much he had a hand in the this whole thing?Next time, think first, fight later.

Outside the sky was starting to lighten, it was morning. On the opposite side of the room that guy...geez he didn't even know his name, started to stir.

Now was the time to get some answers, or at least ask some questions...

Ghosty walked along an empty street. Silence covered him like a shroud, he knew soemthing was wrong, and he had heard, last night, a scream. It was loud, blood curdling, someone in pain. He had spent the night searching every building, every room for a sign of life but he had found none. But the scream had been real. It hadnt been his imagination, had it? As dawn broke he imagined he saw a man sitting on a park bench some ten metres away from him. He roared out "HEY!" and ran over to the prone figure. When he got there, knowone was sitting. It was abandoned, except for a mouldy newspaper sitting in a puddle of suspicious looking reddy brown liquid. He picked it up, and flicking off some debriis, read the first page. Most of it was indesipherable, the ink had run and parts of the paper had decomposed. Yet he made out words such as 'mass evacu- ' and 'catastrophe'. As he read on, a grim picture formed in his mind. Something had happened, and the governement had tried to move people away from the cities. Maybe im not the only one left, Ghosty thought, before correcting himself, I heard a scream, of course im not the only one left. Something, however, a phrase on the newspaper, reminded him of a time before. He cursed for the second time, hating his amnesia. He couldnt remeber anything. But the words reminded him of a girl. He didnt understand the significance of her, but he knew she was importent to him. But now she was gone. He felt deep sorrow, without truly knowing why and he tugged at his dreadlocks. Uncontrollable emotion erupted through him, and with a ferocious bellow he threw himself at a nearby car, hammer in hand. The first blow caused the alarm to start to scream, deafeningly loud. The second blow, shattered the window screen and the third blow crumpeled the bonnet. He carried on smashing at it with his sledge, tears streaming, teeth bared, growling and snarling with each strike. He was making a huge racket, and he decided, he had spent too long already looking for people. If he wanted to find survivors, he was going to make them come to him. Steve then leapt of the obliterated car, and started to move towards another vehicle, when he spotted a motorbike, resting against the wall of a building. It stood out due to its lack of dust and soemthing about it screamed 'survivor'. The fact the headlight was still on helped this summary. He hefted the sledge and pulled the gasmask out of his bag. strapping it onto his face he moved towards the building. Aterall, in this new world, it would probably be best to make a first impression that stuck, and nothing stuck more than a hammer weilding one eyed gasmask wearing pyscopath with dreadlocks, whos covered in dried blood and dirt.

Dan flicked round pistol drawn he fired and hit something it splattered blood everywhere
but when he looked there was nothing there. he decided to head for the tower to see
further for survivors. he only thought he saw things out of the corner of his eye but he
couldn't know for certain.

As he reached the tower he swore he saw movement at the top. but when he reached
the top there was nothing there. so either it was his imagination or ... well there was
no other way down other than the stairs so it must have jumped. he dismissed this
idea. he looked he could so lots of smoke and lights in the south probably Philadelphia
and in the north, Monroe he could see movement and a few lights. before he left for
Monroe he looked at the ruined county of Northampton.

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: Nice fight! But I am curious as to why you are so hostile?

Harry woke up, and rubbed his wrist gingerly, which still felt like it was burning. At first, everything seemed like a blur. He ran the back of his wirst against his wrist and saw blood, dried blood. Feth. Had he been in a fight or something? The he remembered. Damn, that guy had been playing with him. And for a second he'd thought he was on top.

He hit his head against the wall. Why the feth was he so stupid. This wasn't any schoolyard brawl, this was a real situation. This guy was a fighter, maybe a killer, who knows how much he had a hand in the this whole thing?Next time, think first, fight later.

Outside the sky was starting to lighten, it was morning. On the opposite side of the room that guy...geez he didn't even know his name, started to stir.

Now was the time to get some answers, or at least ask some questions...

I'm exagerrating my natural hostility/aggression to create some dramtic effect.

Dave opened his eyes and saw the Harry guy was finally up.

"Sleep well?" He asked, each word absolutely oozing with sarcasm.

"Why'd you try and kill me you sick feth!"

"To see if you were worth my time. If you can't handle yourself in a fight, you have no value to me. And try not to wave your arm to much. It'll reopen the
wound, and I really don't feel like wasting another round on you."

"Did you have anything to do with this..." he struggled for the right word, "Apocalypse, you bastard!" Harry screamed.

Dave's response was calm, no longer sarcastic.

"If I did, don't you think I'd have made sure everybody was dead? Wouldn't do to let anybody ruin my New Utopia, right?"

"Feth you, you slimy piece of crap."

"Fine. Go out into that brave new world outside and see how long you make it. I know I can make it to Philly on my own. Can you?"

Harry stopped, confused.

"At least tell me how you knew what to do to bring me down. You get some sort of training or something?" He asked finally.

"I know where to make a person hurt. It doesn't take a master to know that cutting the wrist will sever a few tendons.
Or that a knee to the groin will bring someone down. Or that nearly breaking someone's nose will give them something to think about. Don't you know
anything about the human body? What, you never paid attention in class?"

Harry retorted, still not convinced.

"Last time I checked, my classes never told me how to nearly kill someone."

Dave sighed. He'd have to lie to make him believe. Not that lying was hard for him. He was a natural actor, a born comedian, capable of making people believe any
bull he came up with, so long as it was delivered right.

"I used to get trained in Penchak Silat. It's an Indonesian Martial Art."

Dave hadn't really lied, more like strecthing the truth. He had taken a few classes, but had not gone to one in quite some years.

"Alright. What did you mean about Philly?" Harry asked.

"Huge deal for medicine. Lots of companies dealing with pharmaceuticals. It should have at least some drugs left. Who knows where to find this stuff now.
Don't look at me like that. What, you think I don't do research on cities that I'm thinking of going to for colledge?"

Harry shook his head. What the feth was this guys deal? Nearly killing him, and then worried about medicine.
Harry chuckled. The crazy bastard probally needed his Prozac.

Dave turned suddenly at the sound of a slow rhythm tic tapping on the door. Tap Tap Tap. It was now that Dave noticed a car alarm blaring in the distance, and he realized that the chances are there was someone outside. After all, cars don’t start to go off for no reason. No, something was definitely wrong. Tap Tap Tap.
Harry was frozen on the spot staring at the door. Tap Tap Tap. Whoever was out there was just in front of the door. Tap Tap Tap. Dave edged closer to the door, sweeping his fringe back out of his eyes he slowly drew his KA-BAR. Tap Tap Tap. Then, just as he was less than a foot from the door, knife readied, the door was smashed of its hinges. Silhouetted in the door way, was a tall dark figure. Thick, tangled dreadlocks fell over his face, and thick vambraces covered his bared arms. He was splattered with grime and dirt, and he was bleeding from various places on his body. In one gloved hand, he held a huge sledgehammer, his veins popping on his forearm from the obvious strain. His face was covered with a Russian style Mk III Gasmask, which had a menacing heir about it.

Ghosty looked down at Harry who was half lying on the floor, propped against a worktable. He was pale and shivering, probably malnourished but more importantly judging by the dried blood on the floor, and by the way his eyes kept darting off to the right, Ghosty realized that the boy on the floor wasn’t alone in the house. “Hey mate, are you alrigh-” Steve managed to spin and raise his arm fast enough to block the dagger slash with his vambrace. His unknown assailant struck at him again, smashing him hard in the ribs. Ghosty staggered backwards but managed to block another swipe from the knife, before he took another strike to the chest. He felt a rib crack, and he gritted his teeth from the sharp pain. Letting out a loud yell he through himself at the attacker. Immediately two things became apparent. The first was that his opponent was almost a foot shorter than him, which led to the second point, that his opponent wasn’t fully matured; he was only 14 or 15. This meant he wasn’t as heavily built as himself. Steve used his weight and strength to his advantage, barreling into Dave with enough force to knock anything flying. He smashed into him and they both crashed to the floor. Ghosty noticed something was sticking through his stomach.

Dave pushed the man off himself after a considerable struggle. It didn’t help something warm was quickly covering himself. Oh god, he though, this guy better not have pissed on him. However after he had lifted the groaning body up and dropped him next to him he realized it wasn’t piss. Dave’s entire forearm was soaked in blood. It dawned on him that he was still holding his KA-BAR, and it was glistening in the light of dawn.
Harry screamed at him “Why did you have to stab the poor bastard!”
For once, Dave was speechless. He looked at the rapid pool of blood forming around the man, and back at his Knife. “Sh*t!”

Ghosty groaned in pain and removed his mask; he was sweating heavily, and was shivering all over. He was dimly aware of something being pressed against his stomach wound hard, and looked down with his decant eye, to view Harry holding a piece of cloth against it. He was also trying to rip up more cloth to make a bandage. Steve looked over to Dave who was standing, arms folded, looking at him from across the room.
“Why the hell did you have to stab me you dumb feth? Have you any idea how long I’ve been looking for survivors?”
Dave carried on watching, but after a few seconds, stated “how’d you lose your eye?”
Ghosty grunted in pain as a bandage was fastened over his stomach wound. “Ouch. I dunno, I woke up with it gouged out. I guess something happened but I hit my head and I can’t remember anything.”

OOC: Is your name in this thing Ghosty or Steve?

Harry shook his head. "Serves you right, mate. Who the hell wears a gas-mask and all that crap without wanting to look like some sort of pysco? There's nothing wrong with the air is there?"

Harry took a deep sniff and wrinkled his nose, rolling his eyes. "Apart from the smell of piss and blood."

He looked at the wound in Steve's gut. "Oh sh**. That looks bad. We're gonna need to get you fixed. Here let me..." Harry had taken enough First Aid lessons so that he knew what he was doing, and he adjusted the bandage securely. "That won't do though. The wound may get infected and without meds, mate, you'd be pretty fethed."

Harry turned to Dave. "You said that there were dru-I mean, medicine in Philly's place, right? We'll need to get this fella over there." Harry puased. "Who is Philly anyway?"

Larry was outside the Bakery, he could hear talking inside. "What If its that killer in there" he though "What if it isnt?".

Larry sighed and took the baseball bat in both hands, he had grabbed the bat from 'Sports Zone' on the way here. Taking a deep breath, he ran at the door, yanking the handle hard, Larry was suprised that it was unlocked. He raised the bat above his head and screamed at the top of his lungs, before charging into the Bakery and whatever awaits inside.

OOC: Go ahead guys, this your chance to beat the gak outta me

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: Is your name in this thing Ghosty or Steve?

Harry shook his head. "Serves you right, mate. Who the hell wears a gas-mask and all that crap without wanting to look like some sort of pysco? There's nothing wrong with the air is there?"

Harry took a deep sniff and wrinkled his nose, rolling his eyes. "Apart from the smell of piss and blood."

He looked at the wound in Steve's gut. "Oh sh**. That looks bad. We're gonna need to get you fixed. Here let me..." Harry had taken enough First Aid lessons so that he knew what he was doing, and he adjusted the bandage securely. "That won't do though. The wound may get infected and without meds, mate, you'd be pretty fethed."

Harry turned to Dave. "You said that there were dru-I mean, medicine in Philly's place, right? We'll need to get this fella over there." Harry puased. "Who is Philly anyway?"

*FACEPALM*

Philly is short for Philadelphia. It's not a person. Thought that was clear when i stated you could not start off in Philladephia.

Lord-Loss wrote:Larry was outside the Bakery, he could hear talking inside. "What If its that killer in there" he though "What if it isnt?".

Larry sighed and took the baseball bat in both hands, he had grabbed the bat from 'Sports Zone' on the way here. Taking a deep breath, he ran at the door, yanking the handle hard, Larry was suprised that it was unlocked. He raised the bat above his head and screamed at the top of his lungs, before charging into the Bakery and whatever awaits inside.

OOC: Go ahead guys, this your chance to beat the gak outta me

I notice people seem to be gravitating towards instantly meeting up with one another. Not to be a dick, but where in the hell are you?

Anyways, onto story.

Dave's head snapped to look at the new figure who'd just charged in.

"Aw what the f*ck not!" He complained.

The guy's momentum carried him farther inside, close enough to hit. Dave threw a straight punch to the mans face. He dropped, blood streaming from his nose.

"This is the third time in twenty four goddam hours I've had to beat the gak outta someone!" he yelled.

The man on the floor who'd worn a gask mask, Ghosty he said his name was, stirred.

"You didn't beat me. You stabbed me by accident." He lay back down, holding his injured side.

The man on the floor groaned, but stayed still otherwise. Yup. Dave had put him down for a little while.

"And no way we can all get to Philly on just my bike. Not even with side cars." He stared off into the distance, thinking.

Harry spoke up, still applying pressure to Ghosty's wound.

"And what do we do with him. He's in no condition to move with this bleeding."

Dave groaned, andn reached into his pockets. Out came two .22 shells, and his lighter.

he prepared to cauterize Ghosty's injury.

Harry grabbed his wrist.
"What do you think your doing? That will solve nothing."

"It'll stop the bleeding for a while, till we can get to the city and patch him up there stupid. Got any better ideas?" Dave retorted.

"Yeah, I do. Sew it up."

Dave laughed, and shook his head.
"If I had any to use, don't you think I would have done that already? Why'd you think I use MY precious ammo to save you?"

Harry barred his teeth.

"You wanna go aagin a$$whole? I'm all ready."

"And I'll slice open your other wrist, or maybe just kill you and be done with it. How bout that?"

Dave and Harry stood across from each other. Harry's muscles were tense, and he breathed heavily as he tried to decide what to do. Dave rolled his shoulders and
drew his knife, while loosing the cath on his other, hidden weapon. Harry relaxed, and spoke.

"How far is this Philly guy's house? Maybe we can make it."

Dave laughed, deep from his belly.

"Philly's a place, not a person. It's two hours by car, with good traffic. And it's anything but that. A hunert and ten miles to the city.
And we'd be bogged down carrying sh*theads One and Two." he gestured at the bodies lying on the ground.

"Alright, no need to yell. Not my fault I didn't know."

"Jeezus H. Christ! You come to the States, and you don't even bother to learn about the area you're in. Good job Crocadile Dundee!"

The man on the ground rolled onto his stomach. And talked.

"What the hell hit me? A train?"

Dave and Harry looked at him, and then groaned. Hopefully th man wouldn't need any medical aide.

OOC: I realised. I don't much care for knowing the states of the US (about as much as you care of the difference between Queensland, NSW and Victoria) and I figured I'd set up a good private joke by demonstrating my lack of Yankee knowledge.

(BTW, with no one around, wouldn't it be VERY good traffic? )

I'm not sure what to write without dramatically advancing the story, so I'll leave that to you, mate.

GES: We need to move in groups of two or more.

I dont want to be alone either, and we have a serial killer on the loose.

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: I realised. I don't much care for knowing the states of the US (about as much as you care of the difference between Queensland, NSW and Victoria) and I figured I'd set up a good private joke by demonstrating my lack of Yankee knowledge.

(BTW, with no one around, wouldn't it be VERY good traffic? )

I'm not sure what to write without dramatically advancing the story, so I'll leave that to you, mate.

Cars stopped dead in the street for miles and miles and miles. Therefore, bad traffic.

Hang on, cars stopped dead, but no bodies? How does the even make sense?!?

EMP? If so, why does you bike still work?

Emperors Faithful wrote:Hang on, cars stopped dead, but no bodies? How does the even make sense?!?

EMP? If so, why does you bike still work?

Have you never whatched/read stuff about the apoc? there is always a scene with cars stopping traffic for miles. And you guys were the ones who kept putting bodies everywhere!

The bike works cause it's stolen.

Also, does anything I do make sense. Probally not.
By joining in on this game, you make a contrack to accept the world you enter, regardless of how crazy it is.

In all serousness, I'll fix these problems in a later post. So tired right now.

K!

ooc: well my nicknames ghosty (irl on account to my pale skin and near white blonde hair) but my names steve. soooo....yup

But have you got some sort of personality disorder? Cos you're refering to yourself as both...

Emperors Faithful wrote:But have you got some sort of personality disorder? Cos you're refering to yourself as both...

And that's what makes it so fun. If he did in game, that presents number of stroytelling opportunities.

but only if ghosty wants it.

Ah...so becuase Ghosty is insane in RL we can say he's super-crazy in the game?

Emperors Faithful wrote:Ah...so becuase Ghosty is insane in RL we can say he's super-crazy in the game?

Just as long as he Ok's it.

Of course, he'll just deny that he's insane at all. While acting insanely...

ok back with the story

Dan knew he had to find others he had to and the closest place he was sure of was monroe.
He had seen survivors in monroe he hoped it was one of is friends he knew it was about 5
miles to where he saw the lights.......

Vulkan_He'stan wrote:ok ill start again in Northampton as ive met two peple

as dan awoke he could smell blood, and lots of it. he looked round
he couldnt see any thing but blood and rubble. he could feel a pain in his leg
owww his hobby knife he pulled it out . hmmm no blood he thought to him self.
then he looked inside the wound the blood had clotted so he must have been
out for a while.
he pocketed the knife, a flask of water, some super glue and his PSP and got out of the rubble
he thought to himself why couldn't I be back in England?

Dan went down to the shooting range to se what weapons he could find
when he reached the shooting range he found a MK.23 and 10 rounds.....

Where the heck am I? (Other than Northampton)

insane? ok im a bit on the mad side IRL but.....yes...i like the idea of being slighty scitso...

ghosty is the aggressive side

Steve the normal ^^

lotsa possibilities for this XD

I know it's been a while, but I wanted to make sure the next post would explain all the problems perfectly.

Dave pulled Harry aside, into the living room of the house to speak to him..

"Listen, if we don't get him some meds soon, he's a dead man. And not the good kind, where he passes quickly and quietly. The kind where he makes
a crapload of noise and holds on for goddamn ever. I can get him some medicine to stave off the infection that's gonna come from the wound, but it'll just come back.
I need you to stay here and watch over him while I get the supplies from the local hospital. If I don't, he'll never hold on till Philly."

Harry grabbed his shoulders and angrily shook him.
"How can I trust you to come back? How do I know you're not just gonna run off, and wait till we all die! And beside, if all we need is to raid this hospital to save him,
why don't we, then book it?"

"There won't be enough meds. Chances are it's already been raided. Besides, I could've killed you all when Imet you, no problem. You know what, to prove I'm gonna come back, take this."

Dave unstrapped his sheath, and haned the KA-BAR over to Harry.

"It was my Grandpa's. The run for the meds will only take a day, maybe a day and a half."

Dave aboutfaced, and prepared to leave. Harry grabbed him, turned him around, and hit him with a thunderous right cross, taking Dave by surprise.

"That's for screwing with me earlier. If you ever try anything like that agin, I'll gut you while you sleep."

Dave grinned, and felt his lip. It was bleeding. He licked it, and stepped into the foyer, where Ghosty lay. Larry was hovering over him, holding a gauze pad on the wound.
Dave turned back, and spoke to Harry again.

"And make sure Lar doesn't do anything stupid. Like, anything."

Dave left, and got on the dirt bike.

"How the hell does that thing even work, by the way!" Harry yelled.

"I stole it. The reason nothing works is because nobody can use them. It's very simple idiot."

Dave gunned the throttle, and headed north.

The wind bit at his naked arm. He wished he'd put on his jacket.

He looked at the street signs, trying to remeber where the hospital was. He saw the old colledge campus, and knew he was close.
He stopped the bike, and stashed it behind a bush. The cars were too thick to manuever through anyway. He approached the ER entrance. It was dark.
He wouldn't be able to see insidewithout a light.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the Scripto. He flicked it open, the flame came on, and he advanced inside. The doors slid open, scaring
him. Some of the power was till on. He entered the waiting room. Bodies lay decomposing on the ground and in seats. Some
with nurse scrubs and doctors lab coats on. Dave moved towards one. He rolled it over, to look at the face and ID card.

He looked away. It was his old doctor, Dr. Baghat. He grimly took the ID card and the pen light from the old man's coat pocket.

The sign on the wall said the pharmacy was located in the west wing. Dave grew increasingly paranoid that someone was watching or following him.

Dave knelt, and pretended to tie his sneaker. He really drew the other knife he had. A bayonet his grandfather had also gifted to him. He reached the door that
lead to the west wing. It required an ID card or a nurse to push a button and allow it to open. He slid Baghat's ID.
The door unlocked, and Dave rushed inside. He slammed the door closed, and sank against the wall.

He heard scratching sounds on the door, and began to shake. He slosed the lighter, and stayed absolutely still. The scratching slowly died away.
Dave gathered his courage, and advanced without light, using the wall as a guide. He turned a corner and flicked the light on again. The pharmacy was right
there. He dived over the counter, and hid under it.

Oh God he was scared, so Goddam scared. How he wanted a drink then, something to steady his nerves.
He breathed heavily, and once again got up. The light came on, and he begin frantically looking for Penacillin and Morphine. He found a few pills that would take care of infection, barely enough to last a week. He found three OxyCodone pills.

"It'll do. Now how do I get out without that thing finding me?" Dave whispered aloud.

Suddenly he heard chuffing, then a snarl. He slowly turned, feeling hungry eyes size him up. Beads of sweat trickled down his spine and into his eyes.
He blinked them away, and felt warmth run down his leg. The light from the lighter fell on his soon to be attackers. His eyes popped wide. The sight was terrifying
in its intensity.

The shape barrelled into him, tacking him down.

He felt as the jaws locked on his left forearm. The lighter slid away.


And Dave screamed.




Harry used the time that Dave was gone to look around the house and take stock of suplies. He raided the pantry and found moldy bread. He tossed it
into a garbage can. He looked in the bathrooms for medicine cabinets. He found nothing.

Larry wandered into the living room and looked for something to do. He found a magazine rack, but they were all Marie Clarie.
Even in the apocalypse, he had standards. Instead, he replayed the first encounter of him and Dave.

He tried to remember what had happened. He sw dave 's arm stick out, and clothesline him. How he'd then hit him with a straight punch,
knocking him to the ground where he hit his head and passed out. He'd acted so fast... faster then anybody he'd ever seen. He had to be
on speed or something to move that fast. No normal person could hit that hard, and hit the fast.
Larry obsessed over it,. He decided he'd watch Dave very closely. If need be, he's slot Dave like without a second thought. if he could beat him to the punch, that is.

Harry grew impatient. It'd been two days. Two long days. Larry was starting to break into a fever. It wasn't looking good. Dave should have been back by now.

"Ah, feth it." He swore, scrutinasing the KA-BAR (is that a knife?) closely. "Grandfather's relic, my arse. Either he's dead or he's ditched us."

Larry groaned. "Well. What do we do now?"

Harry shrugged. "We gotta get you to that hospital. Buggered if I know how though."

Larry rose, clutching his head. "I-I have an idea. My cousin, he has...had...an auto-repair shop. It was for heavy duty stuff, like big riggs and tractors. Something there should still be working." (Made that up completely. Is that Ok?)

Harry nodded thoughtfully, pointed at Larry's wound. "That could work. But can you drive like that?"

"...can you drive?"

"...is it an automatic?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"AAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!!!!" Harry screamed as the big rig thundered along the road, swerving side to side as it attempted, and failed, to avoid the immobile cars before it.

*SLAM*
A beautiful Astin Marton fell victim to Harry's reckless driving.

"I thought you could said you could fething drive!" Yelled Larry.

"And I thought you said this was a fething auto-matic!" Harry shouted back.

*SLAM*
A lovely Porsche was cast aside, ruined.

Larry moaned weakly, leaning against the passenger door. "How long till we get there...?"

*SLAM*
A Ferrari bit the dust. It almost seemed that Harry was aiming for nice cars.

Harry laughed. "At this rate, mate? A couple of hours." He looked concernedly at the fella next to him. "Hang on, alright mate? ...Just hang on."

Steve woke up again. the stench of motor oil was all around. He looked up through his one eye and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a vehicle of some type. On either side of him, was Harry, and someone who, he wasnt able to identify. It certainly wasnt Dave.

"wheres that knife weilding fether?" Steve asked muzzily.
"He went to the hospital alone to get some meds." said Harry, who turned, looking away from the road to check him over. he peeled back the bandage on Steve's stomach, and made a soft whisteling noise. "hey Larry, where did you say this hospital is?"

The unknown person, who Steve guessed must be Larry motioned to take a left down the street they had just raced past. Harry braked hard, turning the vehicle at the same time, causing the rig to spin and drive back down the road too the junction. They turned down it and sped down the road. Steve remembered something.

"Hey, you said he went alone?"
Larry turned "yeah what about it?"
"Im sure you guys have noticed that when your alone in this city, you feel like your being watched by somthing.
Primal instinct takes over when your alone. When i grabbed my equipment from a warehous, something was in there with me. I swear iv'e been stalked ever since ive been here."
Harry laughed nervously "your just being paranoid"

something deep in Steves consciousness stirred.

They slowed in front of the ER. Everyone bundeled out, and moved towards the hospital. Steve, Harry had noticed, had been quiet after his brief paranoia. and he refused help, instead walking slowly and confidently, gripping his hammer, and looking around with his one good eye.
"This place is pitch black inside, get the floodies out of the back" larry called. Soon all three were gripping large floodlights and were staring into the reception. The stench on corpseflesh rotting washed over them. Harry spat up bile, whereas larry began to shake slowly. Steve, started to walk inside.

Meanwhile, something watched from nearby amongst overturned bins and a derelict garbage truck.

OOC: that can be anything from a dog to a weird thing of any type to dave if you want just no one noticees it at all....gottit?

OOC: Wow, wow, wow. Where the feth did Steve come from?!? Was he hiding in the back? I'm so confused!

Nevermind, I keep getting Larry and Steve mixed up. (rolls eyes) Can we do a sitrep?

Who's injured? Who's got weapons?

Harry: Slight burn, few cuts and bruises, nothing major. Weapon is my ornamental arab knife and Dave's KA-BAR. (Which he left behind) Other than that I have nothing on me.

Emperors Faithful wrote:Nevermind, I keep getting Larry and Steve mixed up. (rolls eyes) Can we do a sitrep?

Who's injured? Who's got weapons?

Harry: Slight burn, few cuts and bruises, nothing major. Weapon is my ornamental arab knife and Dave's KA-BAR. (Which he left behind) Other than that I have nothing on me.

To answer a question, yes, the KA-BAR is a weapon. It's a trench knife used by the NAvy and Marines, also available for civillian purchase.

Larry is Lord-Loss, Steve/Ghosty is ghost, Dave is GES, Harry is You.

Larry: Black eye, bruise on back of head from getting clothelined followed by getting cold cocked by Dave. Baseball bat for weapon.

Steve/Ghosty has a deep cut, several smaller cuts on his arms, and can't see out of one eye. 10 pound sledge, gasmask.

Dave: Status: Unknown. Is he alive? Dead? Being forced to watch Twilight by a sadistic bastard left over from the apoc? Oh, it's so exciting!

Really: Sprained ankle, five long slashing cuts on stomach, bite wounds on left thigh, torn open left bicep, definate infection, fever slowly building.

Has: Penlight and ID badge taken from a doctor, bayonet that he hid from Harry, a week's worth of Penacillin and three OxyCodone pills.

Onto Story.

The fight lasted two minutes. To Dave, it felt to be two hours. The creature leapt onto him, it's jaws locking down, biting into his soft skin.
He stabbed with the bayonet, but there was no power behind it. It barely nicked the dog-demon thing. It began to shake it's head, tearing up his body.
Dave forced himself to concentrate, and stabbed again. The dog-demon yelped. The knife found it's eye. The jaws released, and Dave forced himself to his feet.

They circled, waiting for the other to make a move. Dave began to taunt it.

"C'mon Cujo, what you got? C'mon, motherf**ker, get some bitch. I got seven inches of American steel to put you down. C'mon, Cujo!"

It leapt. Dave twisted his body at the hip. He raised the knife. "Cujo" hit his right arm this time, and he felt something pop as he fell to the ground.
But when he hit, nothing happened. He turned, and saw "Cujo" had decided to put more iron into his diet.

"More like steel. I think you might be allergic to it, bitch." Cujo had landed, mouth first, on his knife. Dave lay still, and passed out.

When he came too, it was a day later. His body ached, and his cuts had finally stopped bleeding. He pulle out the pen light, and looked for his Scripto.
When he found the lighter, he put it in his pocket. He limped, wincing with each step. He felt as though he'd been in an ankle lock for six hours.

Dave slowly made it back to the ER wing. He tore through cabinets and drawers, looking for a morphine needle. He finally found one, on Baghat.

"Thanks man. Also, i don't think I'll be able to make that appointment next month. Sorry, can we reschedule?"

Dave sat against the wall, and prepared to put the needle into his arm. He remembered all the times his friends had joked he'd had perfect heroin veins.
He didn't even have to do much to get them to pop out. He flewed a few times, and then he found one.

"Please God, don't let this be something like a flu shot."

Dave poked it into his arm. He pressed the head down, and he felt the pain killer flood him. Before he realised what happened, he passed out again.

When he regained his senses, Dave heard the sound of a big rig. A really really big rig. Thinking quick, Dave got up, and limped away. He found the supply closet, filled with scrubs and a few packages of gauze and two rolls of medical tape.

Changing his bloodied jean into scrubs, he grabbed the pills fromit, and put them in one of the gauze boxes.

He heard voices approaching, and listened intently. It was Harry, Lar, and Steve!

He pushed the door open and appeared before them. Their flashlights stung his eyes.

"Goddam it guys, turn those off. You're harshing my afterglow." Two turned off, and he could see. Steve was using his sledge as a sort of cane.
Larry spoke up first.

"I knew you were a speed freak! That's what this was all about! Scoring one final hit, one last bit o E!"

"Relax numbnuts. You obviously survived the apoalyupse, but your humor didn't. I passed out after falling down a flight of stairs and sprained my ankle.
I spent the night here cause i couldn't walk. Harry, bring Steve here so I can give him his pills."

The group walked twards him, and Steve held out his hand.

"I don't got any water, so you're gonna need to go with out." Steve took the Penacillin and Oxycodone, swalllowed them, and shivered.

"Follow me. We need to pick you up a cane or something" Dave said.

Harry saw him limp, and realised it might not be entirely for Ghosty's benefit.

When the found some crutches, they took them and left.

As steve slowly climbed into the truck to avoid exaccerbating his wound, Harry pulled Dave aside to talk to him.

"How bad is it? How long do you think you can keep up the facade of confidence and immortality to keep us going before you fall down, dead?" He asked angrily.

"It's not that bad. The cuts have healed, they aren't infected, and I took a shot of morphine to take away the pain.
My ankle is the only thing that's badly hurt. It'll heal, is just need some time."

"Oh bollocks. You're in a bad way, we both know it. Now answer my questions."

Dave sighed, and spoke yet another white lie.

"It's just a little bit sore. As long as I keep it wrapped up tight and take an anti inflammatory, it'llbe fine.
As for the second one......

We'll just have to wait and see? Besides, what have you done to inspire the others?" Dave retorted.

"Inspired! Inspired! You idiot! Kicking our asses hasn't inspired us! It's put us in this mess!" Harry hissed, his voice venomous.

"But we're still holding together, right? As long as we do that, we can make it to Philly. We patch oiurselves up, and then we split up. At that point, I don't care.
Listen, just trust me, do as I say, and we can make it out of this mess. I believe with every iota of my being, that we can make it."

Harry looked away, angry and confused. The bastard had a way with words. he put so much of his energy into simple words and made them... something more.

"Which way to Philly?" He grimly spoke.

"First, I need some pants. And you guys, need winter clothes." Dave headed towards the stashed bike, and remarkably, found it untouched.

He nimbly wove through the streets of the town till he found the store he needed. The Sports Outfitter was unlight, but untouched.
As he got off the bike, he walked towards the now stopping big rig. It crashed into the front of a nearby building.
Harry sheepishly got out, flashlight in hand.

"Get the sledge to." Dave called. Harry did, and trotted over to him.

Taking it, he spun, and threw it right through the door. Harry pushed it open.

"It wasn't locked stupid." He stated bluntly.

"But it's much more dramatic." Dave came in, and took hold of the hammer again.

He went to the back of the store, and smiled as his penlight lit the displays up. Handguns, rifles, semi automatic weapons, shotguns, and knives.
He brought the hammer down, and cracked open the case that held a Heckler and Koch P2000. He took it, and looked for keys to pop the trigger guard.
When he did, he immediately took a box of ammo and found some spare magazines. He knew Harry was looking at him.

"Just a little insurance. In case we meet anybody... less then civil. He picked up a USP, found it's key, and popped the guard on it.
He tossed it to Harry, along with a mag and bullets. A few seconds later, he heard a click, and Harry spoke.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't pump you full of lead."

Dave rose, set his gun on the counter, and put his hands up. He tried to think of something, anything, but his tongue wouldn't work.

Harry cocked it.

Harry grinned, and passed it back to Dave.

"I'll tell you. It's becuase I don't know how to use the fething thing. Use it yourself. Just don't let them see it. I'm not sure I trust those two just yet." He motioned over to where Steve and Larry were.

"Yet you trust me just fine?" Dave laughed.

"I think you're a douche to be honest. But there are worst things than your insane ass out here." Harry pointed at Dave's wounds. "And they obviously don't like you very much. What the feth did that to you anyway?"

Steve Leaned heavily against the side of the rig, breathing was hard. he peered at his injury through his bandage, and was greated with a sickly fetid smell. It made him retch. refastening the bandage, Steve closed his eyes and let his thoughts melt away. Then something reared its head in his mind.
"Nice cut on your face, looks like you cant see."
Steve was thrown by this completetly. He swore he hadnt thought that. Why would he? Who said it then?
"Names Ghosty. Apparently you cant remember who you were. That puts me at an advantage over you."
Steve started to tremble. This is not normal.
"Of course its not you weak gakker, your mad, a scitzo. Paranoid. Insane. Whatever you wanna call it. You woke up in a bloody assylum."
Steve clutched his head and sunk to his knees. He wasnt going mad. He couldnt. Too much was at stake here.

Golden Eyed Scout wrote:
To answer a question, yes, the KA-BAR is a weapon. It's a trench knife used by the NAvy and Marines, also available for civillian purchase.

Larry is Lord-Loss, Steve/Ghosty is ghost, Dave is GES, Harry is You.

Larry: Black eye, bruise on back of head from getting clothelined followed by getting cold cocked by Dave. Baseball bat for weapon.

Steve/Ghosty has a deep cut, several smaller cuts on his arms, and can't see out of one eye. 10 pound sledge, gasmask.

Dave: Status: Unknown. Is he alive? Dead? Being forced to watch Twilight by a sadistic bastard left over from the apoc? Oh, it's so exciting!

Really: Sprained ankle, five long slashing cuts on stomach, bite wounds on left thigh, torn open left bicep, definate infection, fever slowly building.

Has: Penlight and ID badge taken from a doctor, bayonet that he hid from Harry, a week's worth of Penacillin and three OxyCodone pills.

Dan; pistol bandages and afew bits of food(you left me out

also who is where?
im going to monroe

Vulkan_He'stan wrote:

Golden Eyed Scout wrote:
To answer a question, yes, the KA-BAR is a weapon. It's a trench knife used by the NAvy and Marines, also available for civillian purchase.

Larry is Lord-Loss, Steve/Ghosty is ghost, Dave is GES, Harry is You.

Larry: Black eye, bruise on back of head from getting clothelined followed by getting cold cocked by Dave. Baseball bat for weapon.

Steve/Ghosty has a deep cut, several smaller cuts on his arms, and can't see out of one eye. 10 pound sledge, gasmask.

Dave: Status: Unknown. Is he alive? Dead? Being forced to watch Twilight by a sadistic bastard left over from the apoc? Oh, it's so exciting!

Really: Sprained ankle, five long slashing cuts on stomach, bite wounds on left thigh, torn open left bicep, definate infection, fever slowly building.

Has: Penlight and ID badge taken from a doctor, bayonet that he hid from Harry, a week's worth of Penacillin and three OxyCodone pills.

Dan; pistol bandages and afew bits of food(you left me out

also who is where?
im going to monroe

I had no idea where you were. My bad.

Stay in the area you're in, and met up with lord of the ghosts.

I'll help you guys write a narrative if you like so that our groups can meet up and help advance the story.
I spent all last summer writing a story like this, so I have plenty of info to fall back on.

Emperors Faithful wrote:Harry grinned, and passed it back to Dave.

"I'll tell you. It's becuase I don't know how to use the fething thing. Use it yourself. Just don't let them see it. I'm not sure I trust those two just yet." He motioned over to where Steve and Larry were.

"Yet you trust me just fine?" Dave laughed.

"I think you're a douche to be honest. But there are worst things than your insane ass out here." Harry pointed at Dave's wounds. "And they obviously don't like you very much. What the feth did that to you anyway?"

"Never though being a douche would save. I'm pretty sure that's what was gonna kill me in fact. Follow me." Dave turned, adn walked to a door on the left side of the store.
He pushed it open, and tried the light switch. Surprisingly, it worked.

"Hot damn. Never though I'd be so happy to see lights." Harry whistled.

Dave put a finger to his mouth, and whispered.

"Someone's there. Stay quiet, stay low." He crouched and cautiously advanced, P2000 in his hands, cocked.

Stairs led downward, and to a corridor with two doors on each side. Dave moved towards the one on the right, where he heard sounds.
He slowly pushed it open. His right index finger slipped inside the trigger guard without his notice. The door swung open enough for him to peek in.
He pulled back, eyes closed. After a moment, he stood, kicked the door open, and trained his pistol on the figures inside.

Harry watched it happen. It seemed so slow. Dave squeezed the trigger five times, before ducking back out. Harry heard a thump, and then a tremendous
boom. Dave blindfired the rest of his magazine into the room. They heard another thump.

The magazine slid free. Harry smelt a stench like burnt rubber. Dave slid a fresh clip in, almsot in slow motion.

He closed the door.

"You don't wanna see what's behind this." Dave dropped the USP.

They walked back up the stairs. Dave went back to the gun counters, and broke open a few more cases. Harry saw Dave attach something to the bottom
of the muzzle. He turned, and pointed it at him. Harry froze as a beam of light hit him.

"Tac Light. Very useful." He smashed a few more cases, and took two other guns. One, another P2000, and the other he couldn't see. Dave put the other two in a
small bag he'd took of a shelf.

Dave looked around for a few more minutes, and found a pair of jeans that fit him. He took off the scrubs, and pulled on the new pair.
Dave took from another shelf coats, and tossed two to Harry.

What the hell had he seen down in that room? Harry wondered.

OOC: What the feth are we shooting at?

Harry thought of corspes he'd seen stacked up in that back alley, and realised he didn't really want to find out. Ignorance is bliss after all. But heck, ignorance in this place was going to get him killed.

"What were those, Dave? Tell me. I don't wanna have to go back there and find out myself."

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: What the feth are we shooting at?

Harry thought of corspes he'd seen stacked up in that back alley, and realised he didn't really want to find out. Ignorance is bliss after all. But heck, ignorance in this place was going to get him killed.

"What were those, Dave? Tell me. I don't wanna have to go back there and find out myself."

"Animals. The worst kind." Dave said solemnly as he walked towards the big rig.

"Which kind would that be?" Harry asked

"Thsoe who prey on human flesh."

Harry stood, dumbfounded.

Dave passed a coat to Larry and one to Steve. He threw the rest in the back.

He got out, and on his bike.

"Follow me. We should make a good enough headway to get to Philly before wehave to abandon the clunker and my bike."

He revved the engine, did a doughnut and peeled out.
They raced to catch up with him.

Dave was glad for the wind. It numbed his face, and brought tears to his eyes. He enjoyed the pain that the wind brought. It took his mind off the dreams.

He prayed they would stop.

"Hay, what you got there!?" Said Larry, looking suspicous.

"Just nothing, a gun, a just something incase we meet some wild animals" Replied Harry.

"Well pass that handgun, I went to shooting camp" Larry smiled. "'Shooting camp'" Harry laughed "These are real guns, then can kil-"

"Just give him a goddamn gun Harry" Said Dave "I diont trust any of you SOBs but Im in no state to fight at the moment"

Harry sighed and handed Larry a handgun. "Good, good. Where we going anyway?" Said Larry.

"Phily" Snapped Dave. "Why the feth we going to Phily, I mean there are alot better places to go then Phily!" Larry shouted in reply.

"Listen you son of bitch, Im in charge, so I choose where we go" Dave stopped talking, as a dreadful howling emerged from the night and suddenly all across the city, more and more dogs started howling. A long agonising wail. Larry shuddered.

Anyone mind if I join in a bit later on (when I am home from work)?

no, feel free to join in more the merrier!

As the rig sped along the rapidly darkening streets, Steve began to notice them. Dogs, in groups of 3 or 4 would run along the pavements nearby, watching intently. after maybe 100 yards they would slow down, before dissapeering into the dusk. Another pack would then appear and track them. The city had already been quartered up into territoires for the dogs. More importently, they were speeding through every one in the city, and it wouldnt be long before the dogs came to investigate....at a more...personal level. He reached over the back of his seat and grabbed up the hammer, wincing as he moved his stomach.

OOC: can this have werewolves? or big ass mutant dogs? just a wondering?

Name: James Keeper
Age: 36
Physical Characteristics/Abilites: 5'10'', white, male, average build, greying sandy blonde hair, English. Heavily scarred over his left arm and upper torso.
History: Ex-army engineer. Medically disqualified from service after being injured in an accident whilst on service. Moved to the USA to live with his wifes family on their farm in Washington (are there farms there? I have no idea - some other suitably remote location anyway ).


Name: Sally Keeper
Age: 8
Physical Characteristics/Abilites: Child sized. Brown hair.
History: Child of James Keeper.

----------------------------

Sally was quiet now; seemingly coming to terms with the way the world had changed. More than could be said for himself, thought James as he pulled the small cart containing his daughter and some scrounged supplies behind him. Each step kicked up a small cloud of dust which drifted slowly down to earth. He didn't even want to think of what the thick layer of ash and dirt contained.

He paused and wiped the sweat and grime from his brow and adjusted the straps on his gas mask slightly, turning to check Sally still wore hers. They were nothing like as good as the army issue gas masks he had used a few times in the forces, but they were better than nothing. The tracks left by his boot prints and the carts wheels disappeared back into the distance. Even with all his engineering skills he had not been able to get any of the vehicles he had come across to work and it was slow going but at least he had found the cart to spare his daughter the effort of walking, and it was far easier than carrying her, as he had done for the first few days until he found the cart.

He pulled the small survivor radio from a pocket on his webbing and checked the signal again, scanning the frequencies and noting the relative strengths on a small chart and compared them to several other columns of figures. There was no doubt about it, they were coming from Philadelphia.

He tucked the chart and radio back about his person and shrugged his shoulders in the harness he had rigged to pull the cart, adjusting the load, preparing for the long journey ahead.

Now all he had to do was get there...

ghosty wrote:As the rig sped along the rapidly darkening streets, Steve began to notice them. Dogs, in groups of 3 or 4 would run along the pavements nearby, watching intently. after maybe 100 yards they would slow down, before dissapeering into the dusk. Another pack would then appear and track them. The city had already been quartered up into territoires for the dogs. More importently, they were speeding through every one in the city, and it wouldnt be long before the dogs came to investigate....at a more...personal level. He reached over the back of his seat and grabbed up the hammer, wincing as he moved his stomach.

OOC: can this have werewolves? or big ass mutant dogs? just a wondering?

You will see soon. As in, right about now soon. As for the guns, the only one loaded is my H&K and a hidden one. The one Lord-Loss has is a revolver with two rounds in the cylinder, but he has to pull the trigger 4 times to get at them.



Dave braked, and the bike spun a 180.

"Dammit all to Hell." he whispered. No doubt about it. The dogs were following them. And they were getting closer.
At the head of each pack, he could see beasts that resembled the thing that had attacked him, and tore his body up.
The wound had only just closed, and they were definately getting infected. It was only by luck he'd survived.

He spun the bike back around, and raced towards the rig.

It pulled up short, and Harry popped out of the right side door.

"What's up?"

"Problem. Well, one of many that form a larger web of problems that collective lead to a little thing I like to call the
'What Will F*ck Us Up Next?' list. The major one right now is we're gonna get killed if we don't hunker down for a day or two."

"Nice to know you made a list. So, whats the plan, Oh Fearless Leader?" replied Harry

"Why do I always have to come up with the plans? Can't one of you numbnuts make one up once in a while? I need a break to regenerate the creative juices." Dave shot back.

"You're also the guy who constantly complains about having to be the only one who makes plans, even as he makes said plans."

Dave grumbled. He looked around, and found a spot that would do.

"That bar. I'll open it up, you park the big rig right in front of the doors."

He gunned the bike, spun it a 180 again, and speed towards the bar.
He powerslid it it, and came three inches to touching the wall. Dave stood up, pulled the weapon he'd hid from the others out of his pack, and brought
the butt down hard on the glass. It cracked, but did not shatter. Striking three more times, he acheived the desired effect. Replacing it, Dave drew the H&K.
Flipping the TacLight on, he swept the room.

After Dave had done that, he swept the upstairs portion of the bar. He found bodies up here. People stopped ead amidst drinking, eating, or playing pool.
Dave looked away. After a moment, he looked back. He worked the balls up to do it for about five minutes, reciting a litany under his breath.

"Please don't be Captain Tripps, Please don't be Captain Tripss."

When he was close to one, he rolled it over, and examined the body.

His prayer had not worked. The neck was fat and swollen, bruised purple. Mucus was caked around the mouth and nose.

He looked away. He forced himself to reexamine the body. It was exactly like in the book and his dreams.

He searched the upeer bar. In the back was a window leading to a fire escape. He opened it, and began the grim task of moving the bodies.
They were heavy as hell.

"Dead weight." He said aloud, and chuckled at the morbid thought. As he pushed them out the window and of the fire escape, he tried to pretend the gross
"splat" he heard was fruit that was in their pockets, not their bodies.

Try as he might, it didn't work.

When all the twenty some bodies had been moved, Dave leaned over the fire escape rail, and puked.

Dave searched the closets and bathrooms next. He found none in there. He considered it a blessing.

Dave walked towards the door, and signalled the others to park the rig. Dave turned, and vaulted over the bar. He tried the taps, and found them full of undrunk beer.

He filled a bucket with this, and went upstairs. Leaning out over the fire escape before the others found him, he dumped it.
Taking a .22 shell out, he sliced the top off, and dropped it onto the pile. He tore a piece of cloth from the scrubs he still had in his pack, lit it,
and let it flutter down to the corpse pile. He closed the window, before the smell could waft in. He pushed a bookcase infront of it, to prevent
them thinking anything was back there. He heard them call his name, and returned downstairs.

They had moved Steve to a nearby couch, and put a spare coat on him.

Harry spoke up first.

"What now?"

Dave screamed, finally letting go of his emotions for a moment.

"Larry" he breathed, "pour us some beer. Harry, check the storeroom for some food. I'm gonna see if I can get to the roof."

They stood, surprised at how quick he had recovered. Before he could shout again, Harry pushed Larry in the dircetion of the bar.

Dave went back upstarirs, and found a locked door leading to the roof.
He went back downstairs, grabbed the hammer, and returned to bust open the lock with one swift strike.

He went outside, and could see them. At least a hundred dogs, hungry, scared, and led by demonic, twisted, perverted version of themselves.

He drew the H&K, switched on the laser sight, and knelt to take aim. He squeezed the trigger three times, and saw two connect.

A demonic German Shepard dropped to the ground, a bullet in the brain pan.

A second round tore into a bulldog, taking it through the hip, but it got back up, limping to rejoing it's pack that had suddenly scattered.

He took out the box of 9x19mm Parabellum rounds, slide the magazine clear, and inserted another three rounds. He replaced the magazine, and put the box
back into his backpack. He heard running from behind, and knew that two of the others had come to see what the noise was.

He turned to see Larry and Harry staring at the gun in his hand, and the dead demon-pup.

"Found any food? If we throw it far enough, we can draw them away from the bar." He asked.

Harry grabbed him by the collar and bent him over the edge.

"What the hell are you playing at you schizo f*ck!?" He screamed in Dave's face.

He eyes spoke more then he could.

Harry pulled him back in, and went backstairs.

Larry stood there, not sure of what had happened.

"You get the beer?" Dave finally asked.

He nodded his head.

"Then why are we standing here Senor Gonad McNumbness?" Dave stormed off downstairs, Larry hot on his heels.

Dave drank the beer fast. He couldn't taste it that way. It was warm, and he'd never been much of beer guy anyway.
Harry nursed his, and Larry just looked at it. Steve was halfway done. They found some ice and put it in his to make it easier for the injured man.

"I think I know what happened." Dave said at last.

He felt everybodie's eyes turn on him, surprised.

"Stephen King wrote a book, Called The Stand. Sorta like this. A man is unknowingly infected with a deadly disease at amilitary test lab.
Fiding out about this, he escapes before quarantine can be implaced. Taking his wife and kid he flees to Texas. He dies and crashes into a gas station.
The men hanging out there examine his body. All three necks are swollen and bruised, and looked like a tire. Mucus coats there mouth and nose,
making it impossible to breath. The bodies infect the men, who infect others, etc. etc." He paused, gathering his thoughts. The beer made it heard.

"I found a few bodies upstairs. They looked exactly like the description. In the book those who got infected, they got what became called Captain Tripps.
A super flu with 99% communicability, and 99% fatality rate."

He looked at them, and they stared as though he had just claimed to be Satan and was going to rape them in the ass.

Steve spoke first.
"So we're in a Stehen King novel?"

"Best i can come up with."

They sat and digested the information as best as possible. Hard to do when you might be a character in some stupid novel or roleplay.

Their thoughts were exactly that.

Steve, pondered on this for a few minutes, before asking
“Why are their psycho Dogs then? Did this novel say that the dogs became obscenely large, and most of their fur fell off? Or that they gained a hunger for human flesh? Don’t look so surprised, we all know it’s true. “Steve smiled, in an uncharacteristic way, malicious knowing etched onto his features.”These dogs, gak, they don’t seem to give up do they?"
Larry seemed to work it out faster than anyone else.
He had noticed how Steve’s eyes, throughout his speech, were fixed on the window. Larry turned slowly, and looked, knowing he wasn’t going to like what he saw.
"gak"
A Massive Great Dane stared straight back at him. Its muscles were bulging through almost translucent skin, veins popping and covering its body like twisted vines. Its eyes were milky white, and no pupil seemed to exist, thick ropey strands of saliva dripped from its slack mouth, where rows of jagged yellow teeth with rotten strips of gore sodden meat and a disgusting, swollen, pink tongue sat. The Beast watched them intently.

Dave saw the huge hound, and reached for his Gun. He noticed, from the corner of his eye, more dogs were moving up to the windows, the doors. "Harry, did you throw any food away from here?" he asked slowly. The pained look on Harrys face told him otherwise. Steve clambered to his feet and picked up his 10 pound hammer. He fastened his Gasmask to his face. At the hysterical and quizzical looks from the others, he growled "not gonna let them feth my face over anymore than it is already".

Larry pulled the pistol from his pocket and cocked the trigger. The barrel of the pistol danced in time with his shuddering, but he breathed in a few times, and his aim steadied. Harry pulled the KA-BAR from his belt and looked around furtively. "What now?"


OOC: im hoping to have a bit of a fight here, so let’s not finish it in one post.
Whoever initiates the fight, Steves gonna fight like a berserker , so madly swinging a hammer and punching viciously is in order.

His muscles burned after so long pulling the cart - it seemed like he had been walking for days and it probably was something close to that. He had crossed most of the state pulling his daughter behind him, avoiding larger towns and cities where he could, and scrounging supplies where he found them. His breath was somewhat ragged as he hauled his load up the rise, but he finally crossed the ridge and saw the start of the urban sprawl of the next big town along their route spread before him.

Half the city was invisible beneath a pal of smoke and drifting dust and several columns of smoke and fire rose into the air. Sally piped up from her comfortable pile of quilts in the cart "Daddy, can you hear something?"

"Hear what, sweetie?" James replied, trying to listen to whatever it was Sally had heard.

"It sounds like a car!" said Sally excitedly.

James strained his ears and just managed to pick up the sound of racing engines in the distance. "Can you tell where the sound is coming from?" he asked - this was one of the first signs of life they had encountered on their treck (even abandoned cars and houses had almost all been empty - something James was quite happy about given he had his 8 year old daughter in tow) and James was loath to miss it; or to walk into something bad.

Hel looked back at Sally, and saw her frowning in concentration; trying to sense where the noise was coming from. She shook her head. "It's ok baby, perhaps we will be able to see something".

The both turned to look out over the city. The engines could be heard more clearly now. One of them suddenly changed pitch, as if the vehicle was slowing down rapidly.The other engine also faded as it slowed down. Silence returned for a few moments before the engines briefly started up again and then abruptly halted.

They stood there watching and listening for some time but heard nothing new. Suddenly a new column of smoke started to rise in the general direction the engine noises had come from. Sally and James glanced at each other and then returned to watching the city. Soon after, 3 shots were heard and the noise of animals in distress errupted over the city.

Sally squeeled in sympathy and fright, her eyes wide over the top of her gas mask, and James gently calmed her. When no more noise was forthcoming, either man made or animal, James withdrew a map of the city he had taken from a petrol station (he had never quite got the hang of the american habit of calling a liquid fuel "gas") and consulted it, looking for a route that would take them near where he had heard the noises, but at a safely removed distance so they could determine what was going on.

His route plotted, he turned to Sally "Hungry kid?" he enquired. Sally nodded. He pulled the cart into a patch of cover, opened up some of the tinned food they had and started to cook it over a gas stove. Somewhere down there was a route through to the source of the signal, and he wanted to know if those other people had something to do with it...

"Gak!!!"
"Where the in the fething warp is everyone!?!"
"ok, clam down, they might be in the city."
{OOC: I am in Philidelphia now. same char, though, but I restart}
"what if they are not in the city?"
"they are!!"
"what if they are dead?"
"What, feakin' zombies?"
"you should take a gun."
"I will"
{OOC: this guy is talking to himself}

James had carefully worked his way through the city, attempting to stay downwind of where he thought the animal cry and shots had come from. He paused a couple of blocks from where a thin stream of smoke was still rising besides a building with a (van/truck/thing - OOC: I was not sure what you guys were driving) parked outside.

His eyes flitted over the buildings lining the road as he selected one that would give him both a good view and be a relatively easy climb. With one selected, he hid the cart behind some bins and helped Sally to her feet, hurrying her up the external fire escape towards the roof.

A few minutes later, and after giving Sally a boost and scrambling up after her, James was on the roof, his eyes taking in the details.

"Sally, I want you to hide here, behind these air conditioner units, OK?" Sally nodded "Stay quiet, but be ready to run if I tell you." Sally's looked frightened even with the gas mask covering most of her face. James smiled and gave her a quick hug before worming his way towards the edge of the roof facing the street.

From his vantage point, James could see a large group of dogs surrounding the building a few hundred meters away. He saw something huge move up towards one of the windows. James pulled his binoculars out and examined the sceene more closely. The view jumped much closer and he could see the immense dog pawing at the window. He shifted his gaze and peered through the window. He could see frenzied activity as several people started pulling out various clubs and weapons.

James lay there and thought for a moment. His brow furrowed as he tried to decide what to do. He did have some weapons, and the training to use them, though he was rusty from lack of practice (not to mention being mainly an engineer rather than a soldier) and slowed by his career ending injuries.

The biggest problem was that he had his 8 year old daughter with him, the sole surviving relative he had...

OOC: I am not looking to join up with the main group as of yet - I aim to shadow them for a while longer before deciding if they are safe to join. I will aid in the coming fight in ways that will not give away my position or attract the dogs to me or my daughter. Perhaps using the 2 tear gas grenades my character found in a crashed police van during his trip over the state.

FYI - my character has a 9mm pistol with a couple of mags, and a long police rifle, whatever the current model of semi/automatic police rifle is in the states. Again with a couple of mags.

Larry was bored. I know that sounds weird, Its the end of the world. But there's not much to do in a pub. Apart from drink and play on the vending machines, but that got boring too. His one amusement was shooting the dogs outside. That sounds mean, but if they were ever going to get out of this dump, they would have to shoot enough dogs, for them them to get out there quickly. There was one problem, every day more and more dogs would come to the building. Following huge demonic pack leaders. Teeth and claws stained with blood, they just sat there and ... waited. That was the most scary thing of all. They just waited. And every day a new pack would arrive, they would find a small area away from the other dogs and just wait.

Dave had gotten it in his mind, that if he killed enough of the pack leaders they would all run. Sadly it didnt work like this. Whenever Dave killed a pack leader, the packless dogs would just find a new demonic leader and join his pack.

So outside the building, there were several 'master packs' which contained a large number of dogs. Sometimes these 'master packs' would attempt to attack the building. Thats when Dave would bring out the big guns, a browning machine gun, from World War 2, it was 60 years old and worked fine. Harry found it in one of the bedrooms. Along with loads of ammo. So Dave would perch on top of the roof. Screaming as he sprayed bullets into the approaching dogs.

It had been five days since they all met up. And they were trapped.

The Hound seemed to reach a decision, its huge head, turning away from the window, before it padded out of sight. Larry let out a long sigh. "well that could have been close, i wouldn’t have wanted to go toe to toe with him." no sooner as he had said it, the massive hound exploded through another window to Dave’s right, howling and barking viciously as he landed. Suddenly, all around the pack of dogs were throwing themselves at the windows, pawing at the door handles, snarling and barking, caught up in the sudden fury of the hell hound.
Dave span round and squeezed of 3 shots, 1 went wide, another went through the window behind the dog, and the third ricocheted of a table before punching through a glass window into the frenzied dog mass. Steve was then crashing forwards hammer in hand. Another window smashed to the left, and a small terrier leapt through, froth pouring from its rabid mouth. Harry kicked it hard, sending it somersaulting backward. The Great Dane chose its target and leapt howling through the air, colliding hard with Larry, sending them both over a moth eaten couch. Steve let out a roar and smashed his hammer into a nearby greyhound that had climbed through the hole the Dane had left. The hound yelped, but fell to the ground instantly dead. Harry had managed to throw his quarry back through the window, which he was now trying to board up with a pub table. He heard sudden screaming, and saw Larry gripping onto the ears of the hellhound, the only thing he could latch onto to stop it ripping into his face. Dave threw his bayonet at the hound, the blade punching third rib down, into the chest cavity. The thing didn’t even notice. Steve yelled over the increasing noise "DAVE TAKE ITS LEGS OUT, NOW"

The voice of command jerked him into action, and Dave vaulted over the bar and, grabbing the hammer Steve had thrown in mid run, collided into the Danes back legs, throwing the whole thing off balance. Steve had a small yappy dog in both hands, and was proceeding to pummel it into the wall. An Alsatian catapulted through another window, and bit deep into his shoulder. Dropping the dead dog he grabbed his new opponent in a head lock, before briefly surveying the room. Dave had managed to piss off the dog, and had averted its attentions onto him. Larry had scrambled clear and was aiming his pistol at the Behemoth. Harry was fighting a losing battle with a pair of Labradors, who had almost pushed their way past his makeshift shield. He felt brief pain and looked down to see the Alsatian had bit into his side. This wasn’t going well.

Larry shot the huge dog through the face. "Take that you dick!" he yelled at the dead dog.

Looking around he could Dave had finished off his opponent and was helping Harry block up the windows. Steve was fighting a giant Alsatian.

Without thinking Larry charged across the room and kicked the Alsation in the stomach before taking aim with his pistol and firing five shots into its warped, blood covered head.

Slivermk2: We're not in Philly yet. we felt it best to a start a story in a small town, then advance to Philly.


The Dane circled Dave. Harry was still holding the table to the window, but losing. It's teeth bared, the Dane stepped forward, a growl issuing from it's throat.
The hammer in his left hand, Dave pulled his H&K out.

"BAD DOG!!" he yelled, and squeezed two shots into its skull.

Before it had fallen he moved towards Harry's side, and threw his body against the table. It got stuck enough that they could move away for a breather.
Rather then take one, Dave turned, and fired two shots at the dog that had Larry and Steve.
Two rounds took it in the stomach, and Steve curb stomped it.

No more dogs were forthcoming. Dave fell down and leaned against the bar.

"Man's best friend my left nut." he complained.

Steve grabbed at his fresh wounds, and Dave swore. Not that it was anything new.

He looked at the dead Greyhound and spoke.

"I used to own two. Their usually very nice." Harry chuckled.

Dave stood, and went up stairs. They heard a scuffle, a thump, and then a loud crash. They turned and saw he had pushed a pool table down.
It was remarkably well intact. He turned, and they saw another come down. Several bar stools soon followed.

Working together, they barricaded the doors and windows. The pool tables, hen stood against something, would take alot of hitting befoer falling over with the bar
stools set behind them as props. Moving the bar tables and chairs, they did the same all over the bar.

"Everybody, listen up." Dave commanded.

Three heads snapped to consider him.

"We're heading out. We've wasted enough time here already. Steve, look for some medicine and whiskey.
Harry, gather the pool cues, night stick, and the sawn off I showed you in the security office. The ammo too. Don't care what type, just get it.
Larry, gather up the canned food, and see if you can find any booze we haven'tdrunk to make some Molotov's with.
I'm gonna see the damage from the roof and look for a way out." Without a word, they set off to do there assigned tasks.

Steve limped, He had been stupid to charge in like that, his wound now weeping more blood then before.

Uh uh kid. You didn't fight. That was me.

He shook his head. The voice of Ghosty had invaded his thoughts again.

Shut up. Shut up and go away. He thought

Oh no. I'm gonna be here for a long time comin kid. I'm gonna be there when YOU kill them. One by one. HA HAHAHAHA!!!

The manical laughter slowly faded as Steve went about his work. He tried to convince himself he wasn't crazy, but he found it very hard.

Larry guzzled the last of the beer, not able to part with it. He had found quite a few substitues though. He tore pieces of bar clothe up, and soaked them in the alchohol.
When Dave gave the word, he would use them.

Hary tore the office apart looking for spare shells. He had found enough for six reloads. He continued tearing the room apart, looking for something,
anything that might help him. He had a nagging sensation in the back of his mind. Something was here, and dammit, he needed to find it!
Sitting down to take a break he found it. A book. Not just any book. THE BOOK.

The cover depicted a man walking across a desert, his eyes blazing red. THE STAND: Complete Uncut Version by Stephen King. He chuckled, and opened the book.
He flipped through it, taking notice when he found a picture. One stood out. A man being chased by rabid dogs or wolves. He scanned it, looking for something particular.
He found it. A shpping cart. The used book had a ketchup stain on theat particular portion. It had dried to look like a small child. He didn't know why it held signifgance. He shrugged, and put the book in the bag he was using to hold the shells. He would examine it later, see if he could find a meaning in it later.

Dave scanned the rooftops. They could easily make the jump to other roofs, but Steve wouldn't. He would have to take back alleys and fire escapes.

"Why not take the rig?" He said in a bad Austrailian accent, mimicking a question he would be asked.

"That's what drew the dogs to us numbnuts." he replied to his own question.
F*ck. He thought. They'd be travelling light, and he'd have to lose the bike. He had finally gotten good at riding it when they had holed up here.

Thoughts raced through his mind. Options, and all their possible outcomes, were weighed and considered.
There seemed to be only one which ended well.

Taking hold of the machinegun, Dave opened fire, not bothering to fire in bursts anymore. He tracked each dog, making sure that each round counted.
He stopped aiming for the pack masters, and took out the small fry instead. When the gun ran dry, Dave reloaded it, like a machine. He opened fire again,
taking more and more dogs by the second. The remaining dogs got the idea, and ran for cover.

Dave stood, and let the gun cool. A glint in the sun caught his attention. Dave squinted, and saw it again. He dropped to the ground, fearing sniper fire. None came.
Slowly, Dave pulled out the binocs he had stolen from the sports shop. He looked, and adjusted the zoom. He saw the glint, and where it was coming from.
Almost a mile away from the bar, someone had set up a position to observe them without attracking the dogs.

"Smart bastards..." He whispered. He could see nothing else, so he ditched the surveilence efforts. He went back downstairs, and found that the others had
followed his orders to the letter. Harry had bundled up twelve pool cues, and had a bag filled with ammo and the nightstick poking out.

Larry gestured to the bar, where there stood rows of ready to toss molotovs.

Steve held up a few pill bottles, a box of Band Aids, and pointed to where three bottles stood on the ground.

"We can't take the rig anymore. That's what attracked the dogs in the first place." he paused, mulling over his words. " Instead, I'll draw them on the bike,
while you guys take the back alleys to get as far away South West as possible, sticking to the highways. Stop every night to make camp. Find an overpass or
something to camp under. If I haven't caught up with you by the fifth night, consider me dead and bloated. Get to Philly, do whatever you can for Steve, and try and
find others. Try and find out what happened. And please, for the love of God, don't do anything stupid. Like let Larry have mate with a bull.
The last thing we need is his slowed child running around with super strength."

Dave drew up a map for them, and then led them to the roof. He helped them arrange their packs to evely distribute weight. As they made their way down the fire escape,
Dave took hold of the machinegun. He went downstairs and opened the big rig's cab. He set the gun down, and started the engine.
As it coughed into life, Dave accelerated in the opposite direction of the others, trying to draw the dogs as best as possible. In seconds they were biting at the mudflaps.
The truck approached a gas station. Dave grabbed the gun, kicked the cab door open, and jumped out. He remebered to tuck and roll.

As he hit the groun, he opped up as soon as he stopped rolling. The gun was still working. he hip fired, spraying the gas pumps with fire.
He hit a propane tank nearby, and saw as the place went up in flames. Dave droppd the gun as he saw the dogs die in flames.

He walked back to the bar. His ankle had been reinjured. Dave got out the bike, and took off. Once again, he moved the opposite direction.

Harry heard the explosion as he and Larry helped Steve crest a steep hill. He turned and saw a fire ball blast into the air.
He heard Larry speak.

"Bastards too tough to go out like that. His fine." Harry tried to convince himself, but couldn't. Neither larry or Steve had seen the wounds and the way they took their toll
on Dave. He had used the alcohol constantly, trying to numb the pain.
He had managed to fool the other two into thinking he was sober, but Harry had seen him secretly drink when the others slept.

He hoped Dave didn't do anything stupid.

"If you're dead you bastard, I'll kill you." He vowed to himself as he caught up with Steve and Larry. it was a long road ahead.

FYI: Don't mention my character for a little while. I want to tell a side story with him, so act as though heis dead and bloated.

OOC: I was not sure, hence I only mentioned it once. Also changed a couple of other bits related to the location to fit in with everyone.

The fight had been short and brutal and James was glad he had been some distance away. He glanced over to make sure that Sally was OK. Her face peeked out around the air conditining units she was hiding behind and James slipped down his mask to smile at her before turning back to his visual.

The bar had been quite for some time, despite a few dogs prowling around the now barricaded windows. James scanned the intervening streets to ensure that nothing aproached where he and his daughter were hiding, but could not see anything that concerned him.

He caught a sudden flash from the corner of his eye and ducked, thinking that someone was shooting towards him from the bar. When no bullet or gunshot followed, he risked ducking his head back above the parapet and scanned the bar. A shadowy shape stood behind one of the upper windows. Another flash of light and it suddenly clicked: There was a man in there looking around with a pair of binoculars and more specifically looking straight at him.

"Damn!" He exclaimed, dropping back down.

He was pretty sure that he had been spotted, and he did not want to risk someone finding him before he knew whether he could trust them or not. James crawled back from the edge and around to where Sally was waiting. He quickly reassured here as he ushered her down from the roof and back to the cart. "What did you see daddy? There was lots of shooting and screaming and barking!" she quizzed, her eyes wide as they decended the fire escape. "Are there people over there? Are we going to help them?"

James gave a quick (slightly sugar coated) account of what had happened and finished "I don't know if we can trust them enough to go and help them... they might be dangerous, and there are still too many dogs between us and them to get through. We need to get somewhere safe and think what we are going to do next."

Sally retreated into silence as her father told her how the dogs had attacked the people, trying to square her knowledge of cute, fluffy doggies with the new concept of them attacking people. But then, she had not seen the horrible, blood drenched and wild looking monstrosities as they poured into the building in search of blood.

James quickly lifted Sally into the cart and took up the ropes; pulling the cart from behind the bins and seeking somewhere they would be safe from the dogs but still able to observe the men up the road.

They spent the night in an abandoned Hotel. They found a few cans of tinned food. Carrying them upstairs to the room they shared. They ate in silence, then stored the rest in Harry's bag. They decided they should do a rotating watch, every four hours, someone would wake up and replace the other person on watch. There were no dogs in the area. But it was a way to look out for Dave incase he came by the Hotel. He didnt come and in the morning they all rose from there slumber. And in silence once again started there journey on foot. They stayed in lots of places on there way to Phily, they also saw alot thing ... not always good things. Steve had gotten worse and worse. It was on there 3rd day since Dave left that he couldnt walk anymore. So me and Harry went out and found a wheel barrol to carry Steve in, It was cold and wet but it would do.

It was on the 4th day since Dave left, when distastor struck.


(OOC: It would be awesome if we could go to washington after Phily.)

OOC Washington.....like......no....it all adds up... FALLOUT 3? actually that’s not half bad ;P I vote for Washington too BTW we know Steves gonna die....he’s not gonna make it. I mean, maybe when he could walk, but now he can’t? Well poor sod.

The group had found a small hut on the edge of town, and it was seemingly abandoned. Inside, there was streaked grime and sh*t covering the walls, the whole place stank of farms. As they hauled Steve into the bedroom and dropped him onto the moldy four poster bed, he mumbled "Hello me, meet the real me."
They looked at him in confusion. He seemed to slip from consciousness and presently was snoring quietly.

Steve waited until they were gone before he opened his eyes cautiously. he saw his gasmask, an object which had become the focus of his paranoia. To him, it was everything he wasn’t. It stared into his soul, it told him what to do. With a dead look in his eyes, he grabbed some rope, and began to make a slipknot. Time to end this, once and for all.


As Harry and Larry made their way back into the dining room, Harry muttered “He's probably delirious. Poor feth" Larry had clambered onto a stool and was fumbling through a small cupboard which had a small first aid symbol on it. Most of the medicines inside were out of date, but he found some morphine to give to Steve. He clambered the stairs and opened the door to the bedroom. Steve’s gasmask was hanging from the ceiling, a slipknot wrapped round his neck. Larry looked around desperately. No. Steve had disappeared. "HARRY!"

Harry had burst in, hearing the yell from Larry, took one look at the mask before he ripped his Knife from his pocket and cut it down. He found himself teary eyed and he blinked away the stinging droplets. Larry was shaking considerably, but he quickly moved over to the four poster. On the bedside table, there was a small and crumpled letter, with shaky, scrawled writing dotting it.

"Dear Harry, Larry, and Dave (im sure you will find him again) Im so SorRy but i CaNt take this any more.
I coUld have made it to Philly, but it seems that i got stuck with a knife. Ghostys fault, not mine. Im not the viOlent one.
he is.

Im sorry to say, the voice inside my head has been there for too long, it tell me to kill you. I cant think straight. Im doing the right thing. There was a girl, a nurse i think. i was friends with heR. find her. plEAse.

All the best (I hope you find whatever your looking for in Philly, Dave)

Ghosty.

Harry walked over the shattered window, and his gaze traced onto the open countryside ahead. He could be anywhere out there. Who's Ghosty? Something felt very wrong about this. He had stopped being able to walk, so how had he managed to break a window, and disappear into the darkness of the night without any of them hearing. Whats more, he knew that Steve couldn’t make it without meds. As this very idea formed in his mind, he heard a knocking on the front door. he froze, before signaling to Larry to see who it is. If it’s Dave...

Larry was halfway across the dining room; the front door was just round the corner, when he heard the door being knocked on again. Something felt very wrong about this. In a apocalyptic wasteland, why would anyone bother to knock before entering? Knock Knock Knock. What’s more, Dave didn’t strike him as the kind of guy who knocked before entering. Knock Knock Knock. Something about that knocking seemed strangely familiar. He got to the front door, and pulling the pistol from his belt trained it on the door. The sudden silence made him nervous. Making up his mind, he grabbed the door knob, twisted hard and wrenched the door open, his pistol aimed at the anonymous knocker.

There was know one there. He looked around outside quickly, but he couldn’t see anyone. Muttering darkly too himself, he went back inside, shutting the door behind him. He was back in the dining room, at the foot of the stairs when he heard it again. Knock Knock Knock. It occurred to him that you didn’t have to be outside to knock on a door.

The hammer struck him hard across the back of the head, and he went down without a sound.

Harry sat on his bed, facing the stairs for several minutes, before he realized that something was very wrong. He crept downstairs. Their backpacks had been ransacked. All the meds were gone. Where the hell was Larry? He found him lying on his back clutching his head, and moaning in pain. “You ok mate? Who hit you?”
Larry groaned “felt like being hit by a brick wall…”
“We gotta grab our stuff and stay up in the bedroom; whoever robbed us might come back”

They moved together, cautiously into the bedroom, before barricading themselves in.
This was pretty disastourous.

OOC: is that a good disaster lord loss? Now there’s a crazy nutter running around with a hammer. He’s out there, waiting, stalking…… ^^

He never should have come here. Harry didn't even like America. Why hadn't he just stayed at home? Finished his HSCE? And now he was going to die in this Godforsaken country. If he didn't go crazy first.

Larry leaned against him, dragging his feet.
"Harry..." He moaned.
"What?"
"The...the guy..."
"Yeah, I know. We gotta get outta here before he comes back."
"No...he...he never left."

Harry froze. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Stiff as a statue his ears picked up a sound. A slow, purposeful slound. Somwhere, somewhere nearby, he could hear the steps...slow, patient steps...

Dave stood on the steps to his old house. He needed to know his family rested in peace.
He walked slowly up the steps to the porch. He was surprised nobody had ransacked it yet.
*Creak*
It still made sounds in the same places. Funny the things he remembered now, but never noticed before.

He pushed the door open, and entered the living room. The smell of the bodies hit him hard.
He found his parent's in their room. His hand flew to his mouth, and he stifled his crying.

Dave nodded grimly, and setaout the unnescaryily grim task of grave digging. He took a shovel from the garage, and dug a hole in the back yard,
big enough for both his parents. The sun had begun setting when he finished. Dave rentered the house, and took his mothers body.
heheld her in a fireman's carry, across his shoulders. He unceremoniously dumper herinto the hole. He did the same for his dad.

He went inside, took a bottle of Tabasco and some Oregano, and used it to consecrate their grave.
The hole filled with dirt, each shovelful serving to remind Dave othat this was real, not a bad dream.

"I'm not a priest, but I will say a few words." Dave hesitated.

"You raised my as best you could, just like your other sons. I know I wasn't as atheletic and as good at speaking other languages as Jordan, or as smart and
musically inclined like Al, but you always beleived in me. Even when you thought I was hopelessly lost." Dave considered his next words carefully.

"Dad.... when a friend of yours asked about me, you said I fall down alot. And then, you said.... you said I always get back up.
You raised me to never stop trying to be good at what I wanted to be good at." Tears rolled freely down his cheeks.

"Mom.......... you taught me to be a goodjusge of character. I evesdropped on you on the phone once.
You said to Aunt Jo that I could tell who someone really was. And I let them know. Even though it ended more often then not, badly."

He tried to calm his heart. It beat a million miles a minute.

"I promise, to never forget you. Gods have mercy on your souls."

Dave chopped a few branches and tied them to make crosses.

He went into his old room, and cried. Hed lost his parents, and probally his entire family.

Dave slept for a day, and lay still for three hours.

He finally gathered the will to get supplies and move out. He searched Al's room.
He found his brother's pills. Pills from when he'd been diagnosed. He put them in a ziploc baggie he found.
They might be useful. For what, he did not know.

Three.
BLAM
Four.
Two left, reload.
HOULLLLLLLL!!!!
"HAHA!!"
BLAM!!!
Let's see here, 13.
I hate dogs.

I'l leave it too EF to decide the outcome with this scary Ghosty crazy man.

Dave heard a moaning outside. He sidled up to the window,and pulled the curtain open to afford him a peak.

Outside, someone was stumbling towards the house. They were dirty and bloodied.

"Not unlike myself." Dave chuckled.

Suddenly, their head snapped up, to fix their eyes right on Dave.

They shone like an oil fire. It threw its head back,and screamed loud. Dave clutched his ears, feeling something seep from between his fingers.
The scream would put a banshee to shame. He looked at it, and saw it charge for the door.

Dave went to his pack, and pulled out the guns. He held the Lupara in his right hand, and the H&K in his left. He ran to the living room.
The creature was up the steps when it saw him.

Dave trained the Lupara, and fired one barrel. The spray hit the body, and tore into its left shoulder. It staggered back.
He cocked the second hammer, and retrained the shotgun on the fallen body.

The beast sprang back up, and jumped through. Dave pulled the second trigger, and the spray caught it full in the chest. It flew back five feet, and lay still.
Dave slid the Lupara into his belt, and switched the H&K into his right. He vaulted the window, and fired three shots point-blank into the beasts head.

It lay very still.

Dave shrugged, and fired one last time into it's chest.

He went back inside, and reloaded the barrels of the Lupara. He reloaded the magazine, and put it back in.

"F*cking siren. Guess you ain't gonna be doin any performances at the opera any time soon, eh bitch?"

He grasped at his ears, and cursed. The eardrum had ruptured in his right, and he tried to walk with some semblance of balance.
It would take at least two weeks to heal. He went into his old room, and searched for something to use. He found the old cane he'd made and planned on
giving to his grandfather, and took it.

Dave lay down on his old bed. It was alot softer then sleeping on the floor of a bar or the cold ground. Dave fell asleep.

He awoke, the bad dream fresh in his mind. He didn't know why it kept happening.

He kept seeing Steve attack Harry with the hammer, before fighting Larry. It was a long bloody fight in his dreams.
He hoped it was just that. He could not tell the victor.

Dave gathered the food he could, and found his dad's old sleeping bag from the army. He loaded up onto the bike, and tried to maintain balance.
He went back into town, looking for the trail of the others. They had done as he said, sticking to highwyas.

But they'd made their trail... less then subtle. Painted on a wall on the concrete dividers were directions to where they were bunked.

"Goddam it. You guys are arguably the least sneaky people ever. Also, arguably, the dumbest."

He restarted the bike, and followed the directions.

When night fell, he had noticed three other such signs. He took out the sleeping bag and set up a lean-to.
He crawled into the sleeping bag, the Lupara in hand.

He slept fitfully again, but when he awoke, the dreams had not persisted into waking life again. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He loaded the pack back up, and demolished the leanto. He remounted the bike and spent the next four hours riding.

The engine died.

"Knew it was too good to last. F*cking dildo." He had entered a stretch of highway where he could find no other cars to siphon gas from for three miles now.

It was to far to turn around, but he was loath to give up the bike. He trundled it alongside him, cursing and complaining.

Three hours later, and fiften miles of hauling the Harley, Dave found an over pass that he could set acamp up at. He set the bike down, and lay down to breath.

"Goddam thing weighs way too much." He whispered. Dave turned his head, and saw a few cars fiften yards out of the over pass.

He rested a few more minutes, and got the equipment to siphon gas.

When he got therehe heard voices. Dave stopped dead.

"Someone'll pass by soon enough, and then we'll take them down. I swear I heard an engine. Prolly a Harley." he heard a mid range voice say.

"But make sure not to damage any goods. Or any women they got."

Dave slowly retruned to his camp, and took his guns. He checked to make sure that they were loaded. He loosened the KA-BAR's catch and checked
to make sure that the bayonet was still in his boot.

He took out the Molotov that had been carefully wrapped up, so as not to exploded while he carried it. There were five others left when he used this one.

As he made his preparations, he couldn't help but remeber a saying he'd read, ironically, in a Stephen King book.

Battles that last five minutes can spawn legends that live for a thousand years.

It's companion followed soon after.

Five minutes worth of blood and stupidity later...

He wondered whcih one would be said about him? And who would be saying it. for that matter. He slid the Lupara into his belt, and held the Molotov in his right.

When he reached the cars again, he listened closer. He tried to make out where they were in relation to him. He was gald that He'd brought the Molotov.
He lit it, stood up, and tossed it at them. There had to be at least thirteen. It struck two, and they srpang up and ran around like a chicken with its head cut off.
He aimed his H&K at the group.

"I do not Aim with my Hand!" He squeezed the trigger, and one bullet found it's mark in a startled young man of medium bulid.
He grabbed at his stomach, face a mask of pain.

"He Who Aims with his Hand has forgotten the face of his father! I Aim with my Eye!" Two more rounds were fired, one burying in the young mans head, the other
striking a fat black man in his thigh.

"I do not Shoot with my Hand! He Who Shoots-" Dave fired three more, mssing twice. It hit an old man in his foot.

"With his Hand has forgotten the face of his Father!" He had them in disarray. But the tide would even out.

"I Shoot with my MIND!" With the last word, one of them fired a Remington at him. It missed, but a few pellets grazed his weapon amr, throwing off his aim.

He grunted, and spoke the last of his litany.

"I do not Kill with my Gun! He who kills with his Gun has forgotten the face of his Father!" Dave fired three more times, and he fired the last round.

He dropped the pistol, and dropped behind the car.

He pulled the Lupara and popped back up.

"I Kill with my Heart!"

He fired the shotgun, and it's spread did it's work.

The last of them went down. if they weren't dead, they were certainly wishing they were.

He picked the H&K up, and reloaded it. He advanced on the survivors, and unceremoniously executed them. One bullet to the head of the remaing six.

He walked to the guard rail and threw up.

The last of the litany remained with him. His heart felt heavier then it had when his family had died.

He ransacked their bodies, taking the shells and gas. He refueled the bike and continued on his way for a mile, before turning in.

He didn't sleep at all.

I see a man.... He has a cart... "Hey, mister!!"
Two shots fire. I fall to the ground. Why am I wet?
Blood.
I ask the man if I can come with him......

James had been following the group for some time as they moved along the highway, their less than discrete signs (and indeed tracks) making the process easy. Indeed, he had seen signs that others had followed the trail, and he had even had to suddenly rush off the road as he spotted a large group of people laying in ambush at one of the overpasses ahead.

It took several hours to pass around them, all the time ensuring that he was not spotted.

Just as he rejoined the highway, he heard a cry "Hey, Mister!" and looked up to see a small boy hurrying towards him. He could not have been more than 12 or 13. Just as suddenly the boy jerked and fell to the ground. 2 shots rang out across the countryside and James threw himself to the ground, calling for Sally to get down in the cart and hide under the covers. Despite her wide eyed horror she did what he said and dropped back into the belly of the trailer.

He quickly shrugged off the straps he used to pull the cart and swung his rifle around, switching off the safety in a single movement as he brought the gun up to a ready position and scanned the ground in front of him but couldn't see where the shots had come from.

The kid was bleeding heavily from the gunshot wounds he had taken and had fallen facing James about 20m away. As James watched he seemed to try and say something... his face getting paler and paler as his life trained away. James thought it looked like he was trying to ask if he could come with them...

Harry stared straight at the figure, who had stopped moving. He felt terrified, more terrified than ever before, partly because he couldnt see his assailent properly, and partly because his assailent maybe a person who they had fought to save for days.
"Steve?"
No reply. The figure shifted its weight.
"Steve, c'mon mate its your buddy harry. Why dont you come out of the shadows?"
The figure remained impassive, but the light from the moon shone upon him, and harry saw a pair of savage eyes stare back at him, reflected in the moonlight.


"Ghosty?"

The figure seemd to react, Letting out a gutteral howl, it charged. the collision sent harry flying into a wall,and he felt his nose break, blood streaming from nostrils.
Suddenly Larry attacked, leaping onto his oponent before its gruesome hammer could be brought to bear.

"we need to stop the blood first"
josh, feeling pain was on the bottom of a cart.
He was asleep form pain.

Dave got up that morning, his stomach growling. He ate not because hewanted to, but because he needed to. Every bite of the canned peach was like ashes in his mouth.

He spent an hour that morning thinking of his plans for the future. A future from before the apoc.

He would finish highschool. He would find a trainer to teach him more about pro wrestling. He would work in the Cruiser Weight division at a local circuit, till he could
try and get into Ring of Honor up in New York. From there he'd wrestle for a few years, until he tried getting into WWE's Developmental Territories.
He spend however long they wanted him there. Eventually Dave would go onto the ECW brand and take a stab at the championship. Regardless, he would go onto
Smackdown or Raw, and begin a quest for US or Intercontinental titles.

He laughed at his stupidity. To think he would have a Championship Belt about his waist.

Dave rode out, thoughts heavy with self loathing. He nearly missed the sound of shots. Dave, riding on a hig road, could see two people pinned down in a street far below.
He yanked out his binocs, and looked for who fired their gun. He saw a muzzle flash, narrowly missing the man's foot. Dave drew the H&K. He waited, repeating the litany.


He saw another muzzle flash, and fired at where it came from. He heard a grunt. For three more minutes, no more gunfire came.

Dave got on the bike and rode on, still looking for the others.

Larry felt pain as he smashed his fist into Ghosty's chin. "feth you Ghosty!" he screamed as he yanked the hammer from Ghosty's hands and threw its across the room. Larry turned back to his opponent who had regained his balance. Ghosty smiled revealing a mouth full of broken teeth and for the second time in his life, Larry though he was going to die. Muscular arms wrapped around Larrys neck, he couldnt breath and Ghosty was too strong. Larry could see Harry crawling across the floor, hammer in his hands. And just as about Larry was going to loose consciousness, Harry smashed the hammer into Ghosty's knee. Screaming in pain Ghosty let go on Larry, Harry was standing up now and caught Larry as he fell. "Crazy fething bastard" Harry said as Ghosty limped out into the night.

Dave had grown used to seeing bodies on the ground. Some dead of the apoc., others by his guns.

He had not grown accostemed to seeing them pop up off the ground yet, though.

He spunout, and crashed. the bike landed on his bad leg. He heard a loud noise, and saw that the tires had blown out.

"MOTHERF**KER!!!" Dave screamed as jolts of pain lanced up a down his right side.
Dave crawled out from the bike, and pulled his Lupara. His vision had gone hazy, and he struggled to clear it. Dave spoke, trying to instill bravado into his voice.

'Stop right there Mother**cker or I'll pump you so full of lead you sink to goddam China!" His voice cracked on the last word. He hoped that the rest was beliable.

Dave cocked the hammers.

"One more step bitch, see if i don't!"

The figure stopped approaching. Dave eased his finger out of the trigger guard.

"First you stab me, then try and shoot me? Jeez, some friend you are." Dave focused, and Steve came into view.

Dave released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and let his arm drop.

Steve helped him to his feet, and dave took the cane and some supplies from the wreckage.

Dave limped along before something struck him.

"Where are the others?" Dave asked. His left hand, the one not holding the cane, pulled the H&K from where it hung, in his belt. He made it look as though he was grasping his side.

"You always have to know don't you?" Steve replied. Dave turned, and stumbled out of the way just in time to miss the swing of the sledge.

Dave dropped his grip on the head of the cane, and took hold a few inches up, as though it was a sword.

"They chased me off. Had too, after I nearly killed them." Steve swung again, horizontilly. Dave jumped back, and grimaced as pain reentered his body.

He shoved the pistol back into his belt, and grasped the cane in two hands.

Steve had to strike in slow, straight lines. The cane was light enough for him to swing fast, and it was strong enough wood to take a beating.

"Now now Steve. Member what happened last time?" Dave swung in, dropping his right hand from the cane to strike with a quick knife edge chop to Steve's throat. it lacked real power, and was meant more to distract then harm. As Steve tried to get out of the way, Dave brougth the cane down over Steve's head.

The wood splintered, and Steve stared dumbly for a moment.

"Owww...." He began, and then dropped. Dave quickly tied him up and took out a pill to give to Steve.
He dragged Steve behind him for a few miles. The highway eventually gave way to several smaller roads, and Dave abitraily selected one. After a further two miles, he dropped, unable to walk anymore.

"Goddam...... you need to lose weight..." Dave complained as he sucked in great amounts of air.

He heard shoes on pavement and immediately drew his pistol. He looked up and saw Larry and Harry.

"Oh thank God...." Dave passed out from exhaustion.

He awoke, lying on a couch. It smelled of old colledge sweat and desperation, but he was glad to be lying down.

It had taken more out of him then he thought, carrying his pack while dragging Steve.
Dave rolled off of it, and pushed to his feet. He heard voices coming from a kitchen, and limped over.

Harry and Larry were talking, and he interjected.

"Where in f**k are my guns?" he rudely spoke.

They stared in astoniment, and Harry wrapped him in a bear hug.

"Oh Christ...." He groaned as he heard his back crack. harry set him down.

Larry wrapped him in a hug too, but not nearly as bad.

They spoke for a few minutes on what ahd happened and where his stuff was.

Dave took out a can of peaches, and they split it.

As he was finishing his third of the food, Dave thought of a joke.

'I swear to God, i've eaten so many peaches, I s**t a cobbler last night."

The guys laughed and nearly choked on their food.

Harry spoke next.

"Didn't know you had a sense of humor."

"I used to do gigs as a comedian at the end of the month for some spare cash believe it or not."

They laughed at that too.

Larry went into the living room, and lay down on the couch, leaving him and harry alone.

Dave noticed the bruises on Harry's body.

"What happened?"
"He flew off his rocker. Tried to kill us, and tore through a good bit of our supplies."
"Where is he now?"

"Basement. Tied to a chair. Far away form any weapons."

Good Dave thought.

He got up, and checked outside. It was just begining to get dark out. He found Steve's hammer, and went outside. He foundatree with just the right branches, and used the sledge to break them off. He brought three inside. He set to work with his knife, sharpening one end, and making the other rounded.

Harry watched, intrigued, but did not wish to disturb Dave.

Dave next began to scrape the bark off. The shafts were sticky with sap as he set them against the wall. They would dry out, and become harder.

"What's that all about?" Harry asked.

"When was the last time Larry used the gun?"

"When we were attacked by dogs."

"I know that he had plenty of other times to use it. But he found out it's much easier to shoot a wild animal then a person?"

Harry stayed silent.

"Yeah."

"And that's why you got so hurt. These will fix that problem somewhat."

Dave and Harry bs'ed the next few hours, before Larry woke up and took watch. They slept.

Dave awoke a few hours later, sore. He got up slowly and stretched. Taking a look at the shafts, Dave smiled. They had dried out wonderfully. He set back to work.

After three hours of crafting, Dave was pleased to say the staves were finished. A blunt end for subdoing, a sharpened end for hunting and killing.
He'd forgotten the joy he took in making wood items.

He tossed one to Larry, who twirled it aroun before hitting it on his forehead.

They spent the rest of the day making preperations or travel, and how to deal with Steve.

Dave held up a small pill, and smiled.

They had started to come together pretty cohesively" Dave thought.

"do you have any weapons?"

*a hand comes form the bottom of the cart holding a hand pistol.*

"ok, how many shots?"

*7 fingers*

James had stopped the bleeding, took out the shot, and gave him 5 pills of store-pain killers.

Richard Tolsdorf.

Age: 19

Hair: Long,Blonde

Eye's: Blue

History.
Richard fought in Iraq in the Canadian armed forces taking a vacation in california, he happen's to of saved a few weapons for himself.

Apearance.
Wear's a Green Camo army jacket with jeans and a Iron Maiden band shirt. Swears alot and has a slight nordic accent.

(How could I be introduced into the story?

Shadowbrand wrote:Richard Tolsdorf.

Age: 19

Hair: Long,Blonde

Eye's: Blue

History.
Richard fought in Iraq in the Canadian armed forces taking a vacation in california, he happen's to of saved a few weapons for himself.

Apearance.
Wear's a Green Camo army jacket with jeans and a Iron Maiden band shirt. Swears alot and has a slight nordic accent.

(How could I be introduced into the story?

I can write up an intro if you want.

Yes please!!!

I will write some stuff tomorow morning, but its 4am now

Lord-Loss wrote:I will write some stuff tomorow morning, but its 4am now

I took care of it already.

Not about Shadowbrand's character, but in general.

The bullets had been striking the hard top around James, the whine of the ricochets sounding horribly close. All the while he had watched the kid bleeding out just yards away and yelled for Sally to keep down in the cart, not just to protect her from the sniper but to save her from the sight of someone close to her own age dying right before her eyes.

Another gun fired, subtley different from the one which had been shooting at them.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the shooting stopped, and a deep growling engine sounded, driving off into the distance.

James risked raising his head a little and scoured the place the fire had come from. A body lay slumped over the concret bollards which prevented people from accidentally walking onto the highway.

James quickly scrambled over to the cart and calmed Sally as he rifled through the carts contents, searching for the medical supplies they carried. Urging Sally to remain in the cart, he rushed over to the boy, half knowing in his heart that it was too late to save him, but wanting to help him all the same...

Name: Johnson Avery
Age: 27
Physical Characteristics/Abilites: Well Built office worker is versed in engineering techniques and radio skills having worked as a radio operator for the US Civil Defence network
History: Lives in California university educated bit of geek at heart part of united states civil defence single no dependents


Johnson woke up and looked around last he remembered was some sort of announcement on the radio and then he haired it down the stairs into the basement the house shook he ended up out cold on the floor.

He scanned the radio frequencies all static he knew there had been a lead up to hostilities in the Middle East hell last week he had checked the local fallout shelters just in case you know someone popped a Nuke but they would have known a movement on land based launchers sudden submarine activity by the Chinese or the Russians.But non of that was relayed to Civil Defence he was required to stay at home is all he thought for a while....

"Well its no nuke" he thought to himself as he opened the cellar door half expecting for it to be blocked with rubble the streets around were intact also so what the hell happened??

[OOC: Hello boss_pimpalotz

Your character is quite similar to mine - ex forces engineer types, good stuff. We will rebuild the world! ]

Larry didnt want to leave The Hut. But after a week of staying there and Dave had seen packs of dogs getting closer and closer each night, so they had to go. The Hut had become a home, it was safe and secure and they had enough food... for now atleast.

Dave lead Steve out of the basement in handcuffs, Steve had his lead lowered like he was ashamed of something. "Do we have to walk" moaned Larry, "We dont have a vehicle so we have to walk!" Dave snapped back.

OOC ( Hey Silver!! Yea first thing that came to mind lol we will rebuild the world again!! lol)


Johnson walked to the front door of his house and stuck a air quailty reader outside he put it out there for a good 10-15mins then pulled it back in clear no bacteria so it wasnt biological he slumped with his back to the door and weighed up his options.

"Go outside forage or stay here and wait?" he pondered he walked to his sofa picked up the remote and scanned the channels nothing not a signal on any of the networks he checked the radio again there was something faint in the background but he couldnt make it out.

"What the hell happened to the EBS??" said Johnson to himself puzzled he then resolved to boost the signal he ran into his workshop and emptied the contents of his drawers and sifted through found some copper wiring and a couple of transcievers he started to cobble something together if he could boost the radio's signal then he might be able to get to that transmission.

Dave ordered Larry and Harry to watch Steve while he checked something out.

The man he had shot earlier was no where to be found. Dave saw a blood trail and followed it. It lead into the woods.

Why couldn't I have paid attention when Bobby was teachingme how to track? Dave thought.

He couldn't spot it anymore, so he left and returned to the group. He spotted Steve thrashing about, trying to shake off the other two.

Dave walked up to Steve, and pointed the H&K at Steve's forehead. He cocked it. Steve stopped immediately.

Dave reached in his pocket and took out a pill.

"You're gonna take this, or I'm gonna shoot you in the head. Any questions?" Steve shook his head no.

Dave forced the pill into Steve's mouth, making sure he swallowed it. He waited two minutes to make sure he wouldn't try and puke it up.

After he made sure of that, they moved on, carrying the pack.

Dave silently bitched to himself about losing the bike. It had sucked ass, having to walk. If he had it he could do some scouting, but the others had to keep up to him.

He spotted a glint on the horizon, and motioned for the others to stop. The pill had made Steve groggy, and he nearly fell over, asleep on his feet.

Dave motioned for the others to hide in the woods on the edge of the road. They obeyed without question, even trying to camoflage themselves.

Dave ran up a head, and took cover behind a busted down car. He peered over the hood.
Dae dropped back down. He returned to the others.

"We travel in the woods from now on. And at night." They groaned, but he knew they wouldn't argue the point.

His face had gone dead white, and they did not want to find out what had made him do that.

Not so far away, a figure watched them, looking down the ACOG scope of a rifle.

Richard looked down the scope his wounded arm was holding the rifle whilst his good right arm held the stock.

"Freeze..."

"I have some question's for you" Richard said coldly.

Steve slay face down amongst the small crop of trees the group were hiding in. He felt drowsy, lethargic. The voices had gone away, and had been replaced with all the pain, the agony that had been installed upon him by his 'freinds'. His knee had been smashed in, and he couldnt walk properly. He Just wanted release. Something inside him stirred, some unknown reserve of power. The beast within, caged, but the drugs had meant its door hadnt been padlocked. The beast thirsted, and Steve couldnt resist.

He pulled himself onto his knees, and blearily looked around. The others watched him carefully, and he saw Larry pick up the carved stick.
"sit back down" larry commanded, nervously.
Steve laughed, a manic hysterical laugh.

Richard, from across the No-mans land heard it, and shivered involuntarily.

Steve was suddenly on his feet, half running, half staggering. He apeared in Richards sights, and, before Richard himself had realised it, had been shot by the rifle. Richard blinked. Had that just been him?

Steve had staggered side ways from the impact, and blood fountained from his throat, where the bullet had peirced. He fellto his knees, hands clutching at the hole punched clean through his neck. Blood poured, like a multitude of rivers, from between his fingers.

All anyone could do is watch.

Steve stayed conscious for maybe 15 seconds more, enough time to feel the screams of his inner demons fade away. He smiled through bloody teeth and closed his eyes.

OOC: O SNAP didnt see that coming didja?

IMO it was his time, and he deserved it ooh and i didnt specify who shot him, so have fun ^^

i might make another character after shadowbrand and silver had found their feet (in other words so it isnt a constant stream of new chars )

-Richard swore under his breath-

Well, I still got question's where is everyone!?!?!

OOC (How many days have passed in the story I just need to get an Idea before I post my next part

Id like to applogise as well for leaping in on a well established story I always find it awkward to start when its all flowing already)

[OOC: I think a couple of weeks, but it is pretty loose.

I just tied my character into several events as I did not want to get bogged down in times as no one seems to be overly concerned with them. Plus it suited my characters lurking to just have his own view of the events that others had just been through, rather than going through his own.]

leroy jenkins

Age: 20

Hair: short black hair

Eye's: green with a slight tint of yellow

History.
worked as a merc for most of his life so he always kept his weapons with him, two pistols in wrist holsters, and an SMG carried underneath his trench coat

Apearance.
wears a trench coat covering most of his body, wears a dragonforce shirt and urban camo jeans.

can i have an intro too?

shas'o vera wrote:leroy jenkins

Age: 20

Hair: short black hair

Eye's: green with a slight tint of yellow

History.
worked as a merc for most of his life so he always kept his weapons with him, two pistols in wrist holsters, and a p90 SMG with a 10x scope carried underneath his trench coat

Apearance.
wears a trench coat covering most of his body, wears a dragonforce shirt and urban camo jeans.

can i have an intro too?

sorry about the posts i havn't got the hang of this yet

shas'o vera wrote:

shas'o vera wrote:leroy jenkins

Age: 20

Hair: short black hair

Eye's: green with a slight tint of yellow

History.
worked as a merc for most of his life so he always kept his weapons with him, two pistols in wrist holsters, and a p90 SMG with a 10x scope carried underneath his trench coat

Apearance.
wears a trench coat covering most of his body, wears a dragonforce shirt and urban camo jeans.

can i have an intro too?

sorry about the posts i havn't got the hang of this yet

Sorry to say, but this is just abit too cliche. Try again

What kind of direction are we heading? Washington would be a good place to go IMO.

SilverMK2 wrote:[OOC: I think a couple of weeks, but it is pretty loose.

I just tied my character into several events as I did not want to get bogged down in times as no one seems to be overly concerned with them. Plus it suited my characters lurking to just have his own view of the events that others had just been through, rather than going through his own.]

I'm sorry.

lord of the ghosts wrote:I'm sorry.

... why?

SilverMK2 wrote:

lord of the ghosts wrote:I'm sorry.

... why?

because you now have to deal with a shot child.

Sorry, but I won't be able to use dakka for awhile. Should anybody choose to continue this thread without me, do so. However, as soon as i get the chance, i will return!

"Give me fething Answers!" Roared Dave and once again struck the thin tree branch, that had be made into a whip, on Richards leg which, by now, had many deep swelling wounds. "I told you the dumb gak jumped into my bullet, I didnt mean to fire!" Richard responded from his chair in the basement of the hut. Larry and Harry were upstairs preparing Steve's body and getting the bonfire ready. Dave had furiously beat Richard for an hour before he started the questions. And at the sound of Richard calling Steve 'A Dumb gak' Dave lashed out with his fists. Knocking over the chair with Richard on it. "I dont want any goddamn excuses!" Gasped Dave "Who are you!?" He demanded "Where did you come from!?!" "What are you doing with THAT?" Dave pointed to the sniper rifle in the corner of the room. "I..I...I..-" Richard stutted. Dave sighed and picked Richard off the floor. "Your too much of a pussy to be a murderer, but when we are safe... You Will Pay For Your Crimes!" Dave threatened.

"I'll be keeping a close eye on you" muttered Dave as he untied Richard and walked up the steps. "Where we heading anyway!?!" Gasped Richard. "We're going to Washington!" Said Dave before the door closed and Richard heard the sound of the door locking.

Dave limped to the kitchen. His hip was hurting like a bitch from the accident.

"Should've wasted the prick when I had the chance." Dave mused out loud.

"Now that's low, even for you." Larry spoke.

"A man should have the right to shoot his own dog." Dave replied. He rubbed absent mindedly at it. He remembered what his trainer ahd told him about why he'd retired.

Once a wrestlers hips go, it's time to fade away. When mine went, The Undertaker took one final ride, and was allowed to rest in peace.

Dave knew that his time was comin. He'd been operating on adrenaline for ever, and now that his body had finally quit manufacturing it for a while, the pain was there.
His hips and knees ached whenever he did anything.

"Dead Man Walking." Dave repeated his trainer's favorite expression for a wrestler who didn't wanna retire. They moved slower, and never admitted that it was time to put away the boots, and can the pyro.

He limped to the table, and spread out a map. The route to D.C was long, but Dave knew if they could get there, they might find out what had happened.

(OOC: I shall make a new charter)
Ninja-WW2 fantic-civil war renactor-zombie fantic.
Techno.
Age 24

Damnit!!!!
AAAAGGHH!!!
*blood everwhere*
you fething dented my fething sword!!!
Die mother fething fethers!!!
(he is in japan, out on the streets killing with his bare hands)

Name: russel davis
Age: 29
Physical: 4' 9", shaven brown hair, blue eyes, wearing his dragonforce T-shirt and blue jeans
Abilities: he can use small blades such as hunting knives with some degree of skill, and can use small firearms

History: well, he spent his life always dreaming of being a cop, but when he got the job, it all went down hill, it was nothing but trigger happy judgment, no self control, and eventually got him booted from the PD, he has some skill with small firearms because of this.
he also keeps a trusty hunting knife with him for luck, he never uses it though, he never had a reason.

(hows this guy? is he any better?)

shas'o vera wrote:Name: russel davis
Age: 29
Physical: 4' 9", shaven brown hair, blue eyes, wearing his dragonforce T-shirt and blue jeans
Abilities: he can use small blades such as hunting knives with some degree of skill, and can use small firearms

History: well, he spent his life always dreaming of being a cop, but when he got the job, it all went down hill, it was nothing but trigger happy judgment, no self control, and eventually got him booted from the PD, he has some skill with small firearms because of this.
he also keeps a trusty hunting knife with him for luck, he never uses it though, he never had a reason.

(hows this guy? is he any better?)

Loads better. Though he is very short. (Most of the characters are at least 5'3"). You might wanna make him taller. Just a suggestion.

OT.

Dave slogged through the snow. Without any plows, it was almost hip deep. At it's lowest, it was mid shin. Everybody in the group was cold and miserable, especially their prisoner, who didn't have an adequte coat.
His head was on a constant swivel, eye's drinking everything in. He tuned out Richard's bitching. He was complaining of lack of food and being cold.

It went on for a few hours before Dave settled on a place to hunker down. He set to work making a better shelter. Using the cover of an over pass, Dave laid tarps down to keep them from getting their asses wet.
He trudged off to where the road gave way to nature, and chooped down a several small, dry branches. He found a small clearing in the snow, filled with piss grass. It was yellowed and dry, perfect for
starting a blaze. He returned and set up a small area for a fie. He started it, and Richard moved for it. he pulled his H&K, impossibly fast.

"Go ahead, Dick. Give me an excuse, Dick." He coked it, and pointed it at Rich's eyes.
He backed away. Dave waved the pistol, the gesture signifing he could go near it. Dave brought it down on the back of his skull. Rich collapsed, close to the fire.

"Harry, you're on wood detail." Dave handed him the hatchet.
"Larry, you're his security. Anything goes down, I want you two guys to haul ass back here, and forget about any twigs. Booking it will keep you warm."
They nodded, and left to fufill their assigned duties.

Dave considered plugging Rich after they left. Considered pinning it on Rich's escape attempt. Decided against it.

He cleaned his guns, something he hadn't had a chance to do. He set about pulling one of the small cooking poits he had and making beans. He set it atop the fire, and waited for them to come back.
A warm meal, even beans, was always welcomed. When they returned, he gave them each half of the beans, tricking them into thinking he had eaten already. They began to refill the water bottles they had, using melted snow and ice. Dave crawled up the overpass, using Rich's rifle with it's ACOG scope to act as a watch. After three hours, he returned, and Harry took his spot. Rich was still out cold.

Dave fell into sleep, and it was not pleasant. He had dreams, of a humanoid scorpion chasing him through a building. He turned a corridor, but it followed, crashing through the walls, seeking his blood.
He risked a glance over his shoulder, and saw why he was so afraid. It was his brother, the one he had not been able to find in the house. It screamed for vengance, for a proper burial.

Dave awoke, and set about collecting more wood to provide wrmth. The fire gave no heat to his chilled bones.