-
Desolé
Desolate. Desolate. Desolate. Desolate. Desolate. Staring out at the cold, shadow wasteland of demolished buildings and the frozen ghosts of our transgressions that linger among them, I knew that there was not a better word in our lost language to better describe the fears of our present. I'm not a linguist, but before the world ended, I studied a little French. "Je suis desolé" means that I am sorry, or that I am full of regrets.
Desolé. Desolate.
Our endless nightmare seems full of our regrets, of the lives that we have lost, of the things we will never become, the sorrow-tainted glory of our past fades in the everlasting night of our present. We are shaped into monsters, born of our regrets.
Je suis desolé.
I am sorry to use metaphors so close to home. To describe ourselves as monsters is to limit our own humanity; to define ourselves by our loss is to live forever in absence. I do not want to live forever. I do not want to live forever in absence.
---
Three weeks ago, I left the city, and took a car and drove as fast as I could to Iowa. The roads were a mess, but I chose one of those new fancy Hummers, taking just a brief moment to hotwire it. I drove fast so the ravaged monstrosities couldn’t chase me. It’s not that I can’t deal with the occasional one or two, but even with all my inhuman strength, I don’t particularly want to take the chance of fighting off a group of them.
I reached Iowa in only two days, even though I often had to skirt the highway collisions and stop at gas stations considering the Hummer soaked up gas like a fat kid with a slurpee. I killed 26 of them on the way, as I couldn’t avoid being ambushed at the gas stations. I didn’t run into any of my kind, or survivors.
I didn’t mean to end up in the farm lands of Iowa, but that’s when I ran out of gas. I hadn’t the foresight to stock an extra gas can. Being ambushed by those creatures did little to help my memory.
When I ran out of gas, I just walked.
I was tired from not having eaten in these three days and the last time I had a meal, it was only a small child, barely slaking my thirst. I didn’t even have the heart to drain it
Walking along the dirt roads gave me a lot of time to think, so I thought about everything. Mostly, I thought what my life was only 6 weeks ago. 6 goddamn weeks. One day I was mostly concerned with my next meal, usually some dainty woman who wouldn’t fight back and tasted the way she smelled. The next, I was fleeing these same women, turned into flesh-eating freaks by the virus.
I had always thought I was the freak, living my life on the outskirts of society, constantly masquerading as something beneath me, someone human. I never thought that I would be freed of my pretensions in such a horrific manner. I never thought that humans could be degraded even farther.
They came at me on the road. The remnants of farmers, lost in the fields, seeking their prey. I slew them with a bat that I picked up at a gas station. It’s not ideal, but firearms are hard to come by and in my condition, I’m not too terrified of close quarters with these awful fellows.
I didn’t get far that evening, so I returned to the car where I had been sleeping, sealing up the windows to hide from the Iowan sun during the days. The nuclear winter that had set in over New York had yet to reach this far into the country.
The next morning, I found what I thought was an abandoned farm house, when I was first accosted by survivors. I expected to find them here at some point. Farmers are tough. There were three of these formidable creatures, brandishing shotguns, grim looks on their bearded faces. I knew they didn’t have many shells left. Fending off the monsters at night required certain dexterity and lots of bullets.
I looked around the farm as they asked me questions.
“How did you get here?”
I ignored them, figuring they wouldn’t shoot me. There were bodies that had been burned in the bathtubs before they could resurrect. Children by the looks of them. These farmers weren’t messing around. Other than that, the farm looked fairly pristine, as if they had people looking after it. It also looked particularly defensible, as it seemed the farmers had taken the time to board up the windows.
I asked if I might be able to buy one of the shotguns and in turn, I was asked,
“Are you alone? Are you infected?”
I held up my hands. No scratches. Nothing. Still they offered me no shotgun. At which point, I figured I could either bite them and move on, or I could just ask to leave. I figured the latter was somewhat more polite. Instead, they cried. Three grown men with heavy set brows broke down and cried.
The first, who I dubbed Amos in my mind, said something about not having seen a fellow man in weeks. The other, who I was sure was a Brad, wept something about burying his wife. Clint was the quietest, only sobbing slowly about his son, who I assumed was the wreckage in the bathtub.
So, I felt bad for them. I stayed the night when they offered me some stew. I declined the soup, staring hungrily at their jugulars instead, but when they looked at me with suspicion, I spooned it into my mouth as if I enjoyed it.
When night fell, I slew a few of the beasts as they came through the door, saving them their precious ammunition. Their looks of wonder quickly turned into savage cries of fear. For a long moment, I considered explaining them my situation, but I just didn’t have the heart for it, to reason with men who have lost the will to comprehend their world. I bowed and vanished into the night. I didn’t belong with these men. I was much more like the monsters out there.
---
Call me Uriel, as I have been named by the Almighty. I am one of the mighty, the great acclaimed Archangels, suffering the plight of man to smite evil. I am God’s flame.
And my job has suddenly gotten much more damn difficult.
---
The next time I saw the farmers, they greeted me with surprise, almost glee. I had found a little survivor’s shelter where I had been secretly feeding upon the inhabitants, most of which were gruff ex-military men. Certainly not my type, but I haven’t able to afford to be choosy.
Amos was the happiest. He grabbed me in a bear hug, shot gun still in hand, threatening to break my immortal bones. Bradley and Clint gave me toothy smiles and asked how I had been.
I said that I was fine, unwilling to tell them that I had starved for the entirety of a week before finding the camp out in the fields of nowhere. I was fortunate to spot the enclave of survivors, for they kept quiet at nights, only daring to be more than ghosts during the day. I spotted their signal fires, hoping attract other survivors. Still, the smoke had the unfortunate side effect of drawing the misshapen horrors.
It was Clint who first asked my name. “Alice,” I answered, in a gruff voice, hoping to instill the feminine name with my masculine demeanor. “It’s short for Alastair.” They smiled, but they didn’t mock me. I smiled back for once, glad to be among friends.
I took a rifle during the night, doing my best among them, fighting the urge to be outside, releasing my rage in the demolition of monster faces. When sun rose, we slept uneasily, a sentry with always an eye on the field. When we woke in the late afternoon, we took to the chores, mending our barbed wire fences, restocking our supplies, mostly fuel. We had corn aplenty in this late autumn. Of course, I now had meals aplenty, taking care not to kill, but merely stun my prey.
For almost half a week, I didn’t make any mistakes, chumming it up with these bastards, and bastards they were. They treated the few women that had made it like slaves, the children like work-beasts. The apocalypse brought out the worst in people, it seemed. Though they took their jobs of defending the establishment very seriously, these were still weak-minded savages, out to only save their own skill.
But that day, I couldn’t contain my own savagery any longer, and when one of the beasts managed to elude the shotguns and the rifles, I took to him with my bare hands, tearing him apart before he even had a chance to think about biting me. Clint trained his gun on me suddenly, a look of terror rising from familiarity in his eyes.
What are you, he demanded. I considered a demonstration, but a showing of my fangs would perhaps have been counterproductive to the crowd. Instead, I just declared that he wasn’t going to be able to kill me with his gun. I had hoped that would be persuasive enough to make him put it down. Instead, I got shot in the back. I turned to face Bradley with a magnum in his hand grinning sheepishly, as if saying, I had to try it.
I looked down, to find that the bullet had zipped clean through my left side. I croaked that he was going to need to improve his shot. By then, I had attracted the attention of the entire town and as I groaned in pain, my wound healed in front of the survivors.
It was Amos who defused the tension, clapping me on the back, calling me a savior. He said it so loud that even I believed it. As he took me through the confused crowd, he told me quietly that he knew what I was, but that it didn’t matter. So long as I was willing to keep saving their lives.
I looked at him in the darkness, his earnest smile somehow grievous and pitiful. I nodded. Of course, I would. Of course, I would.
---
- Uriel
I never thought that I would see such a thing. Civilization brought to its knees. Never have I doubted the Almighty, but this – this fills me with fear. The flood was bad, but the flood was never invested such devilry, nor such blatant abuse of the dead.
Certainly, this is the time of revelations, but new orders haven’t been issued, and as far as I know, I must obey my original instincts, follow in my solemnly-treaded path of righteousness.
I was once ordered to never slay a man, but these undead creatures are not men and I burn them away with a single sweep of my hands. I started in Florida, eliminating the entirety of Miami with a great holy explosion, disintegrating these ghosts with one fell swoop. Certainly there may have been other casualties, but I hadn’t seen a survivor for weeks.
Still, this task drained me, left me tired, so I skirted most of the major cities as I made my way to Atlanta, promising to come back for Orlando, Tallahassee, the Keys. It was in Atlanta that I heard word of survivors making their way to the Great Plains, escaping from the major cities to fend small, fortified establishments, seeking their salvation in this hell. I put my ear to the earth and heard the whispers of men of creatures that had survived the terrors, leading these establishments, bearing a certain brand of might that led these downtrodden creatures of lost civilization to worship them.
False worship! I had to see for myself. I reserved my judgment of Atlanta and moved west, treading lightly on the wind.
---
[GMs Notes]
As per usual, I’m back with a post-apocalyptic thread. Most of this should be obvious, but I’ll summarize for those who prefer to read by bullet point:
A. The world ended with a virus. Zombies galore. Civilization disbanded. I’m actually not too experienced with zombie fiction, so I’m mainly drawing inspiration from the movie 28 Days Later, which in my experience is a really great zombie movie.
B. New York was nuked in a last-ditch effort to contain the virus. It had began in New York, but obviously, the nuke did little contain the disaster.
C. Certain people/creatures are immune, but even then, they’re not immune to being eaten. It’s difficult to tell who is immune and who isn’t. The transformation is nearly instantaneous. Still, the survivors have banded together in remote areas to fend themselves.
D. Vampires are immune. And certain other people, like vampires, have risen within these tiny populations, asserting their control. But everything hinges on survival. Their control hinges upon the likelihood of their survival. And people adapt to circumstances real fast. I’m also drawing upon S. King’s The Stand, a great novel by any standard. Nothing leads to human (and other) change better than the end of the world. There are people with “Heroes” like qualities, and even vampires are quickly adapting.
E. Uriel. Maybe he’s a real archangel. All I know (and therefore all you know) is that he certainly has the abilities of one. But he has the ability to nuke a city all by himself. Miami is but a massive sinkhole. Those who encounter him, I suggest, should preach their piety.
F. Alice. He’s just your typical average vampire in very unaverage circumstances. He’s got a good heart. Vampires that I write about are of the Anne Rice variety. He’s a young vampire, haven’t even lived out the extent of his suggested lifetime. But he’s changing.
---
[GM’s notes, pt II]
What I want from my players:
A. First person viewpoint. We rarely do that here on these boards. Give it a shot. Just try it. It’s not that hard. It’s like writing a diary. It’ll get a little more complex as characters begin to interact, but it’s not impossible. Plus, it’ll be hella exciting.
A1. In a first person narrative three major levels of awareness: what you know as a participant in a large story, what your character knows, and what that character wants to talk about. Make sure you know which is which, when writing.
A2. Don’t describe yourself. This is a major difference between first and third. In third person, you have the time and opportunity to describe how beautiful your character’s hair is, or every article of clothes they’re wearing. In first person writing, you have to realize 99% of people out there aren’t fascinated with these details, and therefore rarely talk about these details, regardless of audience. Similarly, unless your character is the OCD type, with a very acute perception, they’re not going to notice the details of everything.
B. Get into it. That’s really the fun of first person. It’s a lot easier to imagine these things. Get into the head of the character. BE them. Feel something when you’re writing. Have that feeling in the morning where you wake up and you’re not sure if you’re you, or if the nightmare is still going on around you.
C. Your own interesting plot. I have one currently: Angel chases Vampire in post apocalyptic world. It’s a very easy one but it’s certainly not all inclusive. There are an infinite amount of character options out there. I’d prefer NOT to see the usual. Some sort of ex-military type, who just real pissed that the world got shot to ****. I’m going to give you a few ideas to work with:
C1. I have one that I’m reserving for myself: The Senator. He pushed the decision to nuke New York. And when it failed and D.C. got infested with these buggers, he went a little nuts with regret. Lucky enough to survive, he now has to deal with his very, very significant failure.
C2. A man that the zombies don’t even dare to touch. An ability to palaver with the dead. A unwitting necromancer, only now learning his powers.
C3. An old vampiress, pissed that civilization got shot to crap, because damnit, she was pretty damn happy in her luxury hotel, with her billions of dollars. And now what? There’s these violent creatures who keep trying to get up in her business, and nothing to freakin’ eat.
See? Maybe I’m just insane, but the possibilities are endless.
D. Setting. Start anywhere. I have a guy in Florida and another in freakin’ Iowa. Iowa. I’ve never been to Iowa. I hear it’s pretty boring. The United States is just one blank canvas. My only warning is that it is a little difficult to interact if you’re across either ocean, but even then, I’m not saying it’s impossible.
E. No OOC. If you can’t post, don’t post. If you want to discuss something, email me: the lunaticren at gmail dot com. Without the spaces. I have gChat and AIM. Otherwise, you can banter elsewhere. But if you’re worried that something isn’t going to work, just write it first, post it and see for yourself. If you don’t get complaints, then it works.
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- Alice
I found myself awake during the day for the first time a week ago. All vampires can stay awake during the day if necessary, but we’re less than admirably sentient during the day. Imagine your work-day, sleep-deprived and incoherent. Now imagine you can’t drink coffee, or take caffeine pills, or even soda. That’s what we’re like during the day.
But I didn’t feel that. Perhaps it was the onset of winter, and the waning sun, but it worried me. I’d never felt this before in the last 12 years that I’ve been a monster. The winds of change were upon me, and they chilled me to the bone.
For three consecutive nights, we didn’t see a single monster, and then at the end of the week, they came en-masse and we suffered brutal casualties. Amos suffered only a cut, but we sacrificed him with a quick decapitation, unwilling to risk it. It was a shame. He had made friends, had a good singing voice. We found out that he played the guitar, so we found him one on a raid. He sang in the mornings, playing slow tunes that were simultaneously cheerful and melancholic.
Bradley and Clint weren’t the same afterwards. They ditched the shotguns they had carried for so long, both opting for longer range rifles. I decided to carry both, slinging them on my back. They didn’t suit me, but they gave me comfort, the feel of hard steel upon my skinny back.
There was something strange the more recent attacks, as if the creatures were out in the night, grouping together, making their movements almost as if they were sentient creatures. Perhaps they were changing too. Certainly their tactics were different.
Though it no longer bothered me, I still slept mostly during the days. I didn’t get tired or as quickly as any of the men, but I still needed a boost every so often. Still, sleep didn’t give me the rest for which I hoped. Instead, I dreamt over and over, the vision of a light coming from the southwest, while I stand at the foot of a great, ancient tower, the door of which I slam and tear at with all my monstrous strength, hoping to escape the light. I wake, with a fading view of the great door still steadfastly closed and the light nearly upon me.
I take it out upon the men, of course. I’m a terrible leader, even as they look up to me, idly gaze upon my face as if I were some sort of hero to them. I want to tell them the full truth, that I’m no hero, no leader. My courage is merely brutal survival instinct backed by the strength of my corrupt blood.
I think about running away, but I imagine the empty lands out there and they scare me worse than the betrayed hopes of these sorry people. So, I face the shining light. Come on. I dare you, I scream at it in my dreams, bravado dying upon my lips as consciousness returns.
-
OOC: I tried being a zombie... just didn't work... lol
IC:
They say death is like passing from darkness to the light. The first time I died, I just felt like I went to sleep. You know, just not there. Then I woke up and found the world quite different. Sort of like being on LSD and dreaming about reality as a man reincarnated as a sock in a washing machine. Not that I was a druggie wash out in Richmond. I liked counting money well enough that I chose not to partake of employment eradicating substances. Okay, I admit that I had tried a few things before I knew any better. I can tell you now though that death is not passing from darkness to light. Rather, I see it very much the opposite, because the world just doesn't get any better when you wake back up.
It took a week for the shotgun hole to heal. Thankfully enough I looked and smelled enough like death the mumbling nincompoops didn't try to eat me. Not having a stomach at the time, I felt it was a moot thing to try eating. Though when it did come back, so did the hunger. At least I knew it worked.
The closest I got to guns before the virus spread through the country was the looters trying to get cash in vain a day or so before it hit Richmond. One day, I got shot. I woke up with a toe tag and a very empty morgue, except for the things walking everywhere inside of it. The aforementioned LSD effect was really trippy at the time, but made me enough of a mumbling nincompoop they didn't take me for normal and so didn't eat me. For that, I thank my situation. However, it also led to the loss of my stomach by shotgun. Next, was the stab to the chest. Finally, I was pushed off of a building onto some exposed and twisted rebar. Talk about pain, try wiggling yourself off of six foot high twisted rebar.
From the smell of things, I was there a while on that one. Maggots were starting to eat me alive. Or rather, dead. All in a week's time, I'd died on four separate occasions. I don't think, oddly enough, that I was infected until I had died. Sort of like criminals who became criminals after being forced to spend years with criminals in prison for a crime they didn't commit.
After some time, though, my stomach did return and it was very very hungry. Upon finding the only thing to eat, which was other humans, I found myself no better off than the horrid creatures for which I am constantly mistaken for. A grotesque thing, rest assured, but quite possibly the only way to keep going. It grows on you after a while, unfortunately. At least I'm starting to understand the Silence of the Lambs a little more intimately. Until I'm a little more healed, it looks like I'm stuck in Richmond.
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Tacca Chantrieri
I'm known as Tacca Chantrieri, one of a select few of Hunters. Fitting name, or so I've always thought. The black 'Bat flower'. It is not my real name, not my identity nor the true name my soul recognise me by, but even so it is the name I use. No one truly knows my real name, unless they knew me before I was reborn into this world, but even so they would all be dead by now.
I came with one of the many boats that travelled from Africa. The journey was rough, or so I've been told. I don't remember much of it. They say I was one of the lucky few to survive the harsh journey. Luck. Right. Luck to be brought in front of your new Master wearing nothing more than an illfitting dress and chains. Nothing I remember though or think of really. So many years have passed in between, and the years before I was brought back to life was just as the first couple of years of a newborn babe. Nothing you remember when you are older. I dream of it sometimes though, or at least I think it is real memories, but perhaps they are nothing more than dreams.
The darkness came quickly this night as I was following the soft scent of my target. I'm a Hunter, made by another Hunter. I met him when I was around 22, or so he told me. I vaguely remember him to be a close friend to my Master, but mind, he was never my true Master. Leon is my true Master, even after his death. Leon made me into what I am today. His real name he never revealed to me, but as I he went under an alias, Tacca Leontopetaloides. It is thanks to him I'm feared by others since it is well known that if a Hunter knows thy real name you can be hunted down. Sometimes it takes time and sometimes I fail, but I am good at what I do. That is why I'm on this dark road that seems to lead to nowhere. Kansas, what a joke. Why does anyone tries to hide in Kansas of all places. His name is Ted, the one I'm tracking. A man that crossed the wrong woman, my employee. What he did hasn't been revealed to me. I need not to know. All I need to know is his name. Ted Dokes.
Well Ted, here I come.
-
[GMs Notes]
There is something that I wanted to mention and that is Theme. This is an idea, that I realize is a little new to RPing in general, and certainly difficult to employ in a roleplaying setting, but I would not mention it if I thought our players were incapable.
As with both of my characters, you should see a transformation, not only in terms of what they are, but also in terms of thinking process, and personality. I expect you all to call me out if you think what I am trying to portray is either inaccurate, improbable, or unlikely, but the theme here is that people adapt to their circumstances.
Besides, there is nothing that could possibly require more evaluation than an apocalypse and all the horrors associated with it. Maybe this theme doesn’t pertain to your characters, but it would be of great benefit to me if you at least took the time and energy to realize that. Stay true to your characters. They do not have to change to fit a theme, but nevertheless the theme is something that I would appreciate if everyone thought about as they continued.
---
- Uriel
The fourth day of my journey, I paused to take rest in Birmingham, seeking asylum in the daylight, when I was confronted by survivors. Old man, they called me, when I refused to tell them my name. They were a caravan of soldiers crowded in automobiles that looked more like war vehicles. Among them were some women and children.
A kind one, who called himself Owen, offered me a ride. For a moment, I smiled at them, marveling that providence would suggest that a shepherd should be lead by his sheep. Owen seemed to be a leader, he bore a long range rifle and was the only one among them to wear a uniform. We spoke for a few brief moments as he made his judgments of me. Ultimately, I accepted. I was weary of using my abilities to travel by wind. In the winter, even archangels suffer from the colder winds. Alabama was certainly possessed of a warmer clime, but I saw no reason to not take this offer.
They did as I would’ve done if I were nothing but man, traveling by day, monitoring their watches carefully for sunset. They plotted their distances carefully by map, marking their opportunities to stock up on gas, and food. Before the sunsets, they would inevitably find a small defensible building, use the vehicles as an outer ring of defense, and take up their vigil.
That first night, the sheep set up in a small town, aptly named Littleton. They cleared out a convenience store, taking any food they could and placing the heavy displays against the shattered glass windows and barring the back entrance. It left them no way out, but even if they had to escape into the night, they would’ve been slaughtered by these agents of evil. I stood watch over the women in children, huddled in a back supply closet. They did not ask me for my aid, believing me incapable for my appearance. Nevertheless, they entrusted me with a small caliber pistol as it would be of assistance. I passed it onto a teenage girl who would be far more comforted with the feel of a weapon in her hand, Angela, she called herself.
Through the night, as we waited out the gunfire and horrendous screams, she spoke softly to me, asking me for guidance. I was not a priest. I was not accustomed to confessions, but I had no way to cease her soft, endless babbling.
She spoke about the dog who disappeared first. Rudolph was his name, a silly Labrador retriever, a gift received on a Christmas day and was thus named after the most prominent of Santa’s reindeer. I briefly shudder, thinking of the commercialization of Christ’s birth. She asks me why I shudder and I murmur that I’m cold, to which she responds by leaning closer to me.
Rudolph was six years old, she had him since she was 11. A trusted, well-trained companion that never left home without a leash. So, his disappearance was a great travesty to the family, leaving her in tears, her father desperate to solve her problems.
It was most evident that the virus had spread as far as Alabama when her father didn’t come after one more desperate night of searching for the dog. She was left with her mother, and her younger sister, Deborah. An absolute sweetheart, Angela said of her sister. I already knew that the story wasn’t going to end well when a quick survey of the survivors told me that there were no younger girls than Angela among them.
They made their move that morning, hoping to travel down to Mexico, only desperately thinking of ways to escape the country. However that night, they met with resistance at the border. Patrol guards were scanning people on both sides, placing screaming, desperate people into quarantine. The virus wasn’t airborne, but people concealed scratches, cuts, anything that might lead to an infection. A direct bite by one of the creatures lead to an instantaneous transformation, from man to devil within moments. She used more technical terms, but I understood that a cut was like a curse, taking days to run its course. The border patrol were rigorously careful, putting those with the slightest noticeable paper cut into quarantine. Of course, their rigorous measures meant that their precious quarantine filled up in a matter of days, not weeks as they had prepared for.
Angela smiled sadly. It was their luck that their quarantine broke the moment that they got there. Even those who weren’t infected were quarantined with those who were and plexiglass cages that might’ve contained a few of the infected, couldn’t hold dozens of the raving monsters.
A scared Deborah had accidentally wrestled out of their mother’s grip and only stood a few moments screaming out her lungs before she was torn to shreds. Their mother had lost it then, beating upon one of the monsters with her bare hands before it was her turn. Only Angela survived, running the other way, eyes wide open, falling into a ditch and losing consciousness.
She was rescued by the remainders of the border patrol, most of whom now composed the caravan. They were traveling to Kansas. They heard that there was an underground military facility out there where they had herded some of the survivors. Where they were working on a cure. Did the old man think there was a cure?
Call me Ishmael, I told her softly. God has harkened.
---
-
Jessica
I always knew I had a thing with the dead. I never really realized just how much.
They say as a child I used to pretend to play with ghosts. Father, a God fearing man, used to tell every one that it was just the imagination of a seven year old girl. It didn’t help that there was a cemetery just down the block.
However, last week I finally came to realize there is some thing terribly wrong with me. I was just minding my own business when I got that feeling. The one where my fingers start to tingle. It started just after the virus broke lose. Sure enough, I walked around a corner and there was one of those vile creatures.
Instantly it knew I was there. It was like a deer in headlights. It turned its head with a half eaten arm hanging from its mouth. I wanted to hurl. I thought I was a goner. Then, the strangest thing happened. It turned tail and ran, almost as if I had been the monster eating a human carcass. It was gone before I could figure out what had happened.
I thought it was just luck the first time, but then it happened again. I tried to rationalize it. Say it was something else that scared the monster away. But after the fourth time, there was no getting around it. It was me. The monsters are running away from me. I don’t know whether to be disappointed or happy about it. I have seen what they can do to a human being. I have seen the chaos they create from a single bite. What is so wrong with me that the monsters run from me?
All I know is that I survived, and I am still alive. However, I won’t be if I don’t find food soon. To think that after every thing that could possibly kill me, it would be by starvation.
My feet are tired but I managed to keep walking. I was some where in Iowa. I passed several farms on my way, but did not stop to see if there were any survivors. A few hours later the sun was beginning to set. I needed shelter and needed it fast.
Luckily, I spotted a column of smoke rising up through the air. I picked up speed hoping that it was a camp. I dearly hoped that they had food.
I was taken off guard when I saw the barbed wire fence. I had to travel all the way around before finding the entrance. I walked up and found no one around. It was strange. Then I heard the foot steps behind me, and a barrel of a gun was pressed up against the back of my head.
“I am just looking for shelter” My hands went up instantly.
“Are you infected?” the deep voice of a man said.
“Do I look infected?” That was the wrong question. A split second later, the world went black.
-
Delrana
OOC Note: This is a very old character of mine. One of my first. Never thought I'd have the chance to use him again. Enjoy ^_^
IC:
The wind never seemed as cold as it did these days. Even in bitterest of winters, I would trade those winds for these. Back then, the world was so much different. How does one cope with such a drastic change; it feels like something that should have taken centuries. I remember the last day I call normal, and it was well after the virus was discovered. The news updates were only daily then. Every day at 9pm the anchor would appear on the screen with his smile and everything-is-okay attitude and tell the poeple of the country that only another fifty cases were found. I gave a brief moment of worry then cast it away like so many others, saying "I'm glad its not me."
That day I spent with a woman I'd been seeing for some time. She was young and energetic, and if things had gone differently, I'd probably be asking her to marry me instead of trying every day to keep myself alive, and more importantly, sane. I was born in New York, though, it was a very different place in my youth, even long before the nuke. I watched in stunned silence, holding my equally stunned girlfriend, as the news covered the destruction live. Few people were alive then who had witnessed the destruction at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Even in the 1940's I knew these weapons would end the world one day. Turns out, I was only half right.
Days later, the virus hit my hometown, and within a week everyone was infected, save myself. The geists ravaged those not infected and claimed my love. With her death, I realized the humanity I had been living was over. My life was back to how it was two hundred years before. Running, this time from the undead, and killing.
I am a pureblood. An original. My exact origin is lost to antiquity, as the brain can only hold a limited amount of information, and the older memories die first. Horror stories, and romance novels do little to accurately describe a true lycanthrope. Mine is not a curse, but a destiny. I am what I am meant to be, just as the undead are now claiming the Earth, other so-called "mythological" beings are all that remain. Eventually the humans will die, and likely vampires will have thier turn while the humans' God shudders in his folly.
I'm running now, across the flatlands somewhere in the midwest. Unlike vampires, I require regular meals to maintain my ability to transform, and in turn, my ability to survive. I am immune to the virus, but not to death. Much of the midwest is isolated and some animal species have managed to survive. Deer, small vermin, and some wild cats are the majority of it. The addition of butcher shops made my life so much easier... though my hunting insticts quickly resurfaced after the apocalypse. However, prey has been few and far between of late, and I needed sustenance.
I could see a road in the distance. Following it led me to one of those strange, middle-of-nowhere intersections with only a pair of stop signs that no one has bothered replacing in the last eighty years. I was still in lycan form, as was how I spent all but the few hours while I slept. My claws and strength were my only defense, so in this form is how I remained even as I watched the approaching cloud of dust in the distance. As much as I was in danger among humans, I was far less safe on my own. Sure, they would see a large, dangerous looking, man-sized wolf staring back at them, but at least they would know what I truely am. They might shoot me, but then again, that would solve most of my problems as well.
As the caravan approached the intersection, my eyes were drawn to a single vehicle not far from the front. Something was inside that urged my attention. It wasn't threatening, but it was very interesting. It was a feeling I'd never experienced. The caravan stopped, obviously because there was indeed a standing stop sign. I prepared myself to flee if I had to, but survival was the most important thing these days. Running would only seal my fate. I was greeted at gunpoint by the apparant leader of the group and a number of his friends. They mostly showed looks of confusion and awe mixed with suspicion. In a curious inspection of his garb, I noticed a Border Patrol patch on his arm, which was somehow amusing.
"I could use a ride..." I said, gazing down the narrow road vanishing into the distance.
-
I woke that morning like I did any other. Not thinking too much into the necessary order of the early bird routine; shower, dress, eat then leave for class. Although the tension, fear and general panic all around rose in everyone and every animal, things were normal...ish. My class was perfectly on time, me...not so much. The professor wasn't too happy but knew it was just procedure. I was working on an advertisement in my media class when it happened.
Someone turned the channel, pissing me off because we were so close to finishing this project. My thoughts wandered to something much worse as the breaking news was broadcasted. The nuking of New York. I couldn't believe it. Then again...I could. I'd always liked how destruction seemed to cause people to behave more than law and order attempted to. Memories of me being surrounded by death and chaos were the more comforting ones I remembered for some reason I never quite could grasp. Perhaps it was something subconcious, or maybe that ravenous side of me was beginning to seep into the logical side. Either way, New York...was something else.
Unneeded but supposed required containment...as the government put it. I couldn't quite see the logic in it, they should've just blocked off the state and killed anything trying to leave. That would've done a much better job. Things would be different now. I wouldn't be fleeing this town because of what I had to do. I'd still be with her...with Caitlyn. Most people feared me for what I became in front of them during the...tricky times when those beasts attacked.
New York's containment was a failed attempt. I can't remember when I first revealed my 'better' half in front of others...but something didn't quite go right in that group of survivors. I fled from them to keep myself alive...paranoid I guess. Staying alive was all anyone wanted to do nowadays...I truly can't see why. This world will obviously never change...but maybe I'll find something along the way that might change my mindset.
Waking up in the tree with a slight breeze passing through does feel quite nice. But after realizing I wasn't dreaming and there really were 5 of those ugly things starting to climb up towards me things started going downhill. Another thought immediately hit me like a ton of bricks...I haven't eaten in at least 2 days. Going that long without food for my kind wasn't good for when a fight started. I'm exhausted to start...fighting will only weaken me further for when the next group chugs along. So I decided to run. A quick jump into the next tree over, a slide down a few branches to the ground and I was sprinting towards freedom. Well as free as you could be this day and age.
A very detailed picture was embedded into my head to this very moment. I stayed alive for one reason, I needed to stay alive...something wasn't finished yet. I had to avenge her. The fanged bastard that killed her needed to be put in his place. She hadn't wronged anyone, she hadn't done anything but been kind. Even now, just thinking about that night...I get angry and start to lose control. A few dodged tree-branches later...and one not so much. I wiped the leaves from my face and the small trickle of blood from a scratch. Shaking my head free of this confusion, I went back to sprinting through some forestry in what used to be a park. Washington had it's ups and downs, but these forests are still the best thing around.
ooc: revised and Shari, you have any messengers or an email I could contact you so we could talk it out abit? (the werewolf lore so we don't contradict eachother.)
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[GM’s Notes]
First of all, I’d like to give a whole-hearted welcome to those who have joined me. It seems I’ve collected a good majority of those who are still on these boards, and I am honored to have all of you.
A quick note about storylines. As I have suggested, I have currently one story line on the board: angel chases vampire. This has been quickly complicated with the addition of Shari and Wildfire’s respective characters, for which I am enormously glad. However, I just wanted to be clear that this thread is open to multiple story lines. Whatever you want goes. But to be clear, this requires some initiative on your parts in order for this to work. The more people invest, the better this thread will be.
Secondly, most of you might recall that I’m open to mild PRPing. This is primarily necessary as we interact with first-person views. You can only do so much if you wait for your partner to reply, and I prefer to see longer, in-depth posts rather cliff-hangers after every brief line of dialogue.
If you feel that whatever either I or anyone else has written about your character isn’t true to the character, feel free to revise the scene accordingly in your next post. Just add a little notice.
Again, welcome.
Lastly, a sidenote:
I need a while longer to think about the scene with Shari and Matthias. Matthias, is there any chance you might be able rethink your opening scene? It’s just simply unlikely for two people to show up in front of a caravan in the middle of a day at the same exact time. Furthermore, it vastly limits my options for Uriel. Having Delrana show up was already particularly difficult to think around. If two monsters show up, he’s just going to go heaven’s avenger on both your furry tails, and neither of you will stand a chance, heh.
Also, if both of you are going to be werewolves (and same goes for those of us being vampires), you should be somewhat on the same page of what kind of basic lore rules to follow. You don't have to chat it out through email, but you do need to give some basic clues as you go along. For instance, I made it clear that sunlight hurts vampires, but I made some changes to lore according to whim. Rules, are obviously subject to change, but please be clear about this kind of change. I intend to clarify these things as well.
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- Alice
I hadn’t realized the extent of my influence over the camp until they brought the girl to me, asking me what we should do with her. She was unconscious, dressed in clothes that looked more like a thick layer of mud. She couldn’t have been a day over 18 (?)
You did this? I asked of the person who brought her to me, a stiff, dour man by the name of Embrey. No one knew if it was his first or last name. He was a good soldier because he was a stickler for rules, and now he looked out of his element, embarrassed to have acted un-according to possible orders.
If she wasn’t infected, she might be now, I chastised him, pointing out the wound on her head. I feigned disinterest at the sight of the blood, but the hunger practically made me tingle with premonition. To still my own violence, I gave brief orders:
I want you to take her to quarantine yourself. Be careful to not get the blood on you. It shouldn’t take us more than two hours to figure out whether she’s infected, but in the meantime, I advise you to clean her up and when you wake, an apology will be necessary.
Embrey nodded curtly and dashed off with her in his arms, and the moment he left, it seemed that the air cleared, like some pivotal moment had passed. I had made it unscathed through some sort of test. It wasn’t just the blood, it must’ve been the sight of the girl, I figured, so despite my orders, I followed along after Embrey.
Quarantine wasn’t much more than a metal shed with a padlock, that we quickly built after what happened to Amos. It couldn’t contain a pack of creatures, but we had never put in more than two or three, waiting to see if a wound would turn into a full blown infection. Not a single one of them survived. So went our hopes for immunities among us.
There was no one else in there now. I watched as Embrey gathered a cloth, wet it from the pump and proceeded to wipe off the blood in a quick-thorough fashion. His method was so precise and methodological that I questioned him concerning his previous profession as I stood my distance at the door.
A nurse, he told me, with an awkward expression on his face, as if he didn’t want to confess it. He said little else as he made his way past me to hang out the towel and to wash away his hands. He was uncomfortable handling this kind of death, this transitory disease that failed to discriminate, failed to follow the rules.
She’s not infected, I told him. I wasn’t sure how I knew, and for a minute, it occurred to me that I might have just been lying to him to comfort him. However, as we both silently watched through the slit in the door, it became apparent that she wasn’t manifesting any symptoms of the transformation. However, the uneasiness didn’t leave and as the girl finally stirred, I quickly unlocked the door to present myself.
I’m Alice, I said. Her grogginess was apparent when she simply looked at me solemnly, a hand reaching for her head, before finally stating, “That’s a girl’s name.” I chuckled a little, but I quickly cut it out as clear eyes (?) swept across my face, brewing an emptiness that fell down the length of my spine.
Certainly, it made little sense. This girl fit the profile of my usual victims: scrawny, pretty girls who practically crawled into arms to be eaten.
I started with my usual questions, a litany designed to obtain the most crucial information:
Name, so that I might be categorize this little creature in front of me.
Was she alone?
Was she injured in any way?
Where had she come from?
I didn’t want to waste any more time. Nightfall was coming soon. The munitions vehicles would be returning soon, as well as the scouts. I had reports to answer to, preparations to make. This girl was only going to slow me down. When she had answered me, I was going to assign Embrey to her. He had to demonstrate his remonstrance anyways.
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Marcus
I awoke that morning gasping aloud "Father!" There was a movement beside me, then a gentle hand caressed my shoulder. "Honey? That dream again?" said a soft voice in my ear, her breath tickling the hairs on my neck. I nodded, taking a moment. Then I turned and took Rose into my arms, both to comfort her and myself. "Don't worry, love, I'm quite alright." I replied, smiling and planting a kiss on the top of her head. She got up before me, pulling her robe on and heading down to start breakfast. I followed a few minutes later. Christ, I'm becoming a head case, I thought as I shook my head wearily. The doctors, shrinks rather, said it would take a long time to get over what happened. I never thought it would be this long and still I would not be fine.
We met downstairs again, kissing a good morning to each other properly, and I surveyed the kitchen. It wasn't really a kitchen anymore. Or, rather, it was, it had simply taking a wrong turn somewhere and ended up between kitchen and bathroom. Not that anyone could blame us, given the state of things, but the proper lavatory had been demolished as part of the building next to this one collapsed. Luckily, it perfectly sealed that section of the condo off, giving us adequate protection on that boundary.
Breakfast was served, such as it was, and we made short work of it. We had learned that being quick and efficient was the best way to go in these times. I sighed as I once again remembered how Nashville used to be. Rose turned to look at me, wiping some of her meal from her gloriously pouty lips. She always seemed to have this almost petulant, sassy smile lurking on those lips of hers. God how I love them. "What is it? What's bothering you?" she was asking as I brought myself back from my wonderfully distracting thoughts. I knew she was concerned about me, as I was about her. I shook my head. "Nothing." I said, trying to leave it at that. However the look in her eyes told me she was being stubborn today, so I relented. "Just thinking, reminiscing really. About, well, everything." Our eyes met and she nodded, standing briefly before slipping onto my lap. With her leaning against me, her warm arms encircling me, things felt almost normal. That's usually when things go to **** in the movies, and reality did not serve to disappoint me.
The wall beside us unexpectedly came crashing down. Not the whole wall, of course, but a large area of it. On the other side were those sad, wretched beings. We counted five at first, until several more surged forward. We fought, using anything we could get our hands on. The back of my mind suddenly registered the fact that it was daylight. They aren't supposed to be active during the day!! the logical portion of my mind screamed at the world. I got separated from Rose, watching her brandish a cast iron pan. I desperately fought my way back towards her. As my mind screamed it's rage at the universe for changing the rules so suddenly, I screamed in fury as I beat beast after beast out of my way. "Marcus!" she shouted over the din even as the pan connected with another one of their heads. For a brief second our eyes met, and then they swarmed over her.
I jerked awake with a shudder, bathed in cold sweat. My hand passed over my face as I squeezed my eyes shut again. Another would likely have reached out to check the place next to where they lay, to reassure themselves that their loved one was still there. That is had been all a stupid dream. I did not. I knew she was gone, if not in the exact way I had dreamed. My rage broke again, as it had so many other times after my dreams of late. Always a different way each night I watched her die. It never got easier, and I do not think it ever will. Not after how much we had shared together. I looked up as the wooden chair that had been next to me smashed against the brick wall, collapsing to the ground in several pieces. I hadn't even realized I had hurled it.
Christ, I'm becoming a head case, I thought, mirroring the thought from my dream. Still seething I punched the mattress I laid upon. Rose had been dead for weeks, overcome by the near-dead. Near-dead. The word brought another fresh pang of pain to my heart. That was the word Rose had invented for them. They weren't human, not anymore. They were not dead, obviously. But they were not those undead zombies, either. So she dubbed them near-dead, which seemed apt. Rose had always been good with words. One of the things I had loved so much about her. She was practically perfect, everything just seemed so right about her. She had been the reason I had stayed sane for so long. I wished to God she was still with me, even given the constant dangers of the world as it was now. My only comfort, sick as it was, was that she hadn't become one of those things. There hadn't been much left when they were done....
I was moving down the sewer again now, moving quickly away from the locked storage room I had found on one of my many excursions. I had found that the near-dead did not venture into the underground sewer tunnels even given their hatred of the sunlight. I found it odd, very odd actually, but I was not going to give out on a potential boon. So once a week I traveled via the sewer system under the city, day and night, sleeping in various locked rooms I had found and prepared. My destination: the naval base just a quarter day or so walk from downtown Memphis. Nashville seemed so far in the past, it was hard to believe it had only been weeks since I had been there.... with Rose.
The trips to the base were to prepare. Not the base, it would be foolish to try and defend an entire military base with just one person even given the improvement of automated defenses. I had stores of weapons hidden around the city, and in the underground. Memphis was my home for now, and I would be damned if I was going to just hide as the near-dead roamed the streets. It was also fortunate that they could not operate machinery or guns and the sort. The sewers did not lead directly to the base, of course, that would have been idiotic of the Army to plan out. I glanced over and read the scrawl on the brick wall: 1000 ft. I sighed, glad that I could be getting out of here soon. At the end of that distance was a sewer cover that I used to pop back out above ground.
A sudden itch attacked my skin, odd because it seemed to run along the base of my skull. I was idly scratching the base of my neck when I froze. Something had moved behind me. I continued forward, listening intently for another noise. There it was again, it sounded like a shuffled footstep. Sure, it could be anything down here, but I was all to aware of what it was most likely to be. I sprinted forward several feet and spun, eyes searching the corridor that was dimly lit by the lights I had painstakingly rigged up. I muttered a curse as I saw the light washing over two of the ravenous creatures that had sieged the night. As they lurched forward I took over, though I knew I could kill them. Where there was two there would be more. I took a quick left, deviating from my course, and I could hear the approaching fast.
I leapt up and grabbed the short ladder that lead to the sewer cover above me. With a grunt I shoved it up and to the side, tossed my bag up into the daylight, and hoisted myself through it as the creatures below howled in rage. Breathing a sigh of relief I pushed the cover back over the hole. "Damnit" I muttered as I stood, then turned to look back in the direction of the city. "****!" I half shouted as I came face to face with a gruesome, mangled corpse. Shaking my head, I chuckled. Looking back, it may not have been my best idea ever, but around the outskirts of the city I had staked up the corpses of the near-dead I had killed. Like some silly omen to ward them off.
I laughed, it felt good. Getting my bearings back I headed back in the direction of the base. I vaguely wondered what anyone would think when they saw the rather disgusting display of bodies. Hah. Like anyone is going to be coming my way.
(There we go, it's a lot longer than I planned, but I didn't feel like stopping heh. I tried to make it not dull and boring, hope it worked. Plus, I gave the caravan a nice way to work onto my path. I won't reach the base for at least an hour, so feel free to find me, or my lovely little welcome mats, once you have figured out who is doing what. Anyways, enjoy!)
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OOC: Sorry Ark, I know you didnt want any OOC messages, but without anything else to post, I'm sort of left with few options >.< If you want to tack on something for Delrana to your above post, Ark, I'll use this space to post a response :)
Matt - Use this forums messaging system to contact me. It's far more convineant.
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Jessica
I was dreaming, of that I am sure. It was if my 23rd birthday was happening all over again. I awoke in the morning to smell of cooking bacon. My roommate was an excellent cook, at least compared to me. I could not cook a box of macaroni and cheese to save my life. I got up and dressed for my one and only day off this week. I headed down the stairs to greet Angelica, my cat, at its base. I scratched the back of her ears and she purred. I could not help but smile.
“Is that you Jess?” My roommate asked as she came around the corner.
“Nope.” I said in my normal sarcastic manner.
She grinned at me and then turned back into the kitchen. I headed strait to the T.V. I plumped down on the sofa and reached for the remote. I clicked the on button for the TV and then for the cable box. I was instantly greeted by morning cartoons. I love Tom and Jerry. Now I am watching the news. The top story for the day is resent out break of a virus, the cause of five people’s deaths.
I smelled smoke. I got off the sofa to investigate. I stepped into the kitchen and see the bacon is burning, and my roommate is no where in sight. Strange I thought to myself.
****
My eyes fluttered open and I gasped in pain. I reached back to feel a wound, the size of golf ball, on the back of my head. At least, that is how it felt. I felt a cool dampness on my fingers which I could only imagine was blood. For a brief moment I forgot what had happened, but it quickly came flooding back to me. I had been struck from behind and struck hard. When I finally took a good I looked around I nearly panicked. The room was dark and reeked of death. Then, I noticed my fingers were tingling. I looked down at my hands, then back around the room. I was alone, or so I thought.
Just as I sat up, a man rushed into the small room. He took me by surprise which nearly sent me through the roof. When I finally calmed myself down I took a good look at him. He was tall, and very well built. He was definitely handsome in my book. However, there was darkness surrounding him. He had a face that screamed leader, but his eyes said something completely different. He introduced himself Alice and I could not help but giggle. “That’s a girl’s name” Who in there right mind names a boy Alice?
The man was only slightly amused. That made me feel a little bit better. I attempted relax but his demeanor changed just as quickly as deciphered it. His amusement faded and he pulled back into a series look. I tensed up again. When our eyes met I nearly gasped. It was almost as I had stuck my fingers into a light socket. What only be described as electricity ran all the up my hand and into my entire body. Something about this man intrigued me and scared me at the same time. He was not like every one else, or at least like any one I had met before.
“What is your name?” He asked me a cool and calm voice.
I was about to answer blindly, but I caught myself. “Wait just a minute Buster. Before I answer your questions, you answer mine” I stood up. It was a bit of a challenge but I managed. “How long have I been out?”
“Not long” was all he said.
Great, a man of many words. “Why am in here?” I gestured to the surrounding room.
“I was making sure you were not infected” It was the honest truth.
Wonderful. “Well if who ever hit me had actually listened to me instead of knocking me unconscious, it may have saved you the trouble….” I paused because I was unsure I wanted to give him my name. “My name is Jessica. Who hit me?”
“Embrey. He is sorry. Are you alone?” was the next question.
“Unfortunately” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. The man seemed to be in a bit of a rush. I did not blame him, but I doubt we wanted to leave for the same reasons. The room was making me uneasy, but in a way one would think. I was begging to feel comfortable in the room. That was what was making me fee uneasy. I took in a deep breath and smelt the death that engulfed the small room. There had been infected people in this room, and none of them had survived. I wondered what they did with the bodies.
“Are you hurt in any way?”
That was a dumb question. “You mean besides the golf ball size wound on my head?” I said as our eyes locked again. I fought the urge to look away. “I have some blisters on my feet from these worn out shoes. But other than that, just some minor scraps and bruises.” I was started to get fidgety. I uncrossed my arms for a moment to run my hand through my hair.
“Where are you from?”
“Does it even matter at this point” I wanted out of this room. Alice glared at me. “OK, OK, I am from California. I know it’s a long freken ways away. I just picked a direction and ran. I had a car, but I ran out of gas. I have been walking ever since. Please can we get out of here?”
Alice nodded in answer, turned, and head right out the door. The Man’s name did not suit him. I giggled again at the thought. There was no way that I could call him Alice. I had a cousin named Alice. She was blond and five the last time I saw her. She was one of the first to be infected. I shook my head and followed behind.
Out side the door, I caught the tail end of a conversation between Alice and another man. The new man just nodded and head strait for me. I watched as Alice disappeared.
“I am very sorry, Mame. I panicked. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. Please if there is anything I can do for you…” He tailed off only looking me in the eyes once.
“So it was you, huh? Embry, right? ” I said to him and managed a half smile. It was hard times. I might have panicked to. That was just how it was now. There was no going back. “Please Embry I am really hungry. If there is any food you could spare I would be grateful. I have not eaten much in the last two days.”
Embry quickly saw to it that I was fed, and even had a place to sleep for the night. However, there was no way that I was going to sleep tonight. I had a freken head ache now and no pain killers. I needed to pass the time. I realize how dangerous it is at night, but what choices did I have.
After what seemed like most of the women at the bunker had fallen asleep, I slipped out to take a look around. I hoped no one would mind. There wasn’t much to find. It appeared that the bunker, or what ever one would call this place, was very well guarded. There were several men with rifles and guns. I did my best to stay out of sight.
Then just as I was bout to head back to my cot, I saw him. It looked as if he was ready to go to war. And for all intensive purposes, we were at war. Somehow He looked different in the star light. He seemed more alive than in the containment room. I looked down at my hands as they began to tingle. Not again. I clenched my fists and continued to watch him.
-
Victor told me he'd never belived in a higher power until I walked into the Trenches like a descending angel from heaven. He said I had an inner radiance, a light that shone so brightly that the infected could not touch me without being burnt. An old friend from Louisiana, Victor always had a tendancy to wax lyrical.
When he turned I tried to make his death quick.
He snarled and cowered away from me, shrieking like a banshee as if he was being burnt alive, louder and in greater agony the closer I got. My hands were shaking too much, my aim was wandering everywhere. It took four shots to bring down the thing that used to be my friend.
Victor was wrong. I refuse to believe that any power that could cause such agony could be holy. Besides, I'm far from a holy man. I took the meagre belongings the two of us had shared and left the Trenches behind. Some of the others tried to convince me to stay. I told them that I would be back soon. A lie, I've always been good at them, but a lie meant to inspire hope. They deserve that much.
They know as well as I do that they'll probably die, with or without me there.
I didn't know where I wanted to go after that, just that I wanted to get away for a while. New Orleans was right out, damaged so often over the years and now utterly ruined from the outbreak of the Infected there. You'd figure with such a colourful voodoo history there'd have been Houngans who could control the zombies. Magicians who could fight back the tides. I was there when New Orleans fell but from what I could tell, most people just died and became savage monstrosities.
But none of them could touch me.
I got called many things during those days, but the two that always stuck with me were “Venus-child” and “Herald of Morning”. I'm particularly fond of Herald of Morning – it has such a poetic ring to it. Victor would have loved it.
I struck out north, aiming to head out of Louisiana altogether. A caravan of survivors reluctantly picked me up upon the way when I told them I could be of use. The 'genuine' gold ring I bartered to the leader sweetened the deal. After years of lying, cheating, swindling, stealing and lying again, I still find myself amazed that people want to believe that you'll give them something valuable for practically nothing. It puzzled me more why he wanted material trinkets at the end of the world.. I suppose some people never change, despite their surroundings. I rode north with the caravan.
At night, I shone like the Morning Star.
-L.
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Dominic
(So I got bored and decided to make a new character. I dunno if it's gonna work out that well, and it's rather a ripoff of Constantine, so if you have any issues with it Ark, or anyone, just say so. Also, posts for this chara may contain strong language. He's rather jaded and stuff :V I think we're all adults here[either in age or spirit], so I doubt there will be a problem. If there is, just PM me about it and I'll cut down/cut out the swearing. I always try to post responsibly lol)
"God damnit!"
My voice echoed inside the empty school bus. I seemed to be saying that a lot lately. Hell, who am I kidding? 'Lately' is an understatement. My frustrations were not unmerited, of course. I had just run out of gas... again. At least this time I wasn't in the middle of nowhere inside a little metal toaster oven. Seven cars and as many weeks had taken me as far from New York as humanly possible. Course, I got the hell out of town long before the nuke was announced. Just as good I did, too. Things had only gotten worse in the few weeks up until the bombing.
But I digress, I'm getting distracted again. My current predicament placed me a good couple of miles away from the nearest town with zero gas and the same number of cars around. Great. looks like I'm hoofing it. I snatched up my duffel and hauled ass out of the bus. It was midday, so thank God I still had time left. I snorted at that thought. Yeah, let's all thank God for this. Shoving the thoughts from my mind I lit up a cigarette, my favorite of vices. I could get to the next town in good time and either find another ride or hunker down somewhere.
By early afternoon I had reached the town, conveniently marked 'Bone Gap'. How quaint. Eager to get the journey behind me I found the nearest store. It seemed no one was tending the shop today so I helped myself. Now where the hell am I again? I thought as I looked around for the map section. Ah yeah, crossed the Illinois border today, I remembered and found the map I sought. From the looks of it, I might be able to get through the rest of the state today but it would probably be pushing it. Plus it'd put me right into either St. Louis or nowhere. Might as well stay here and fort up. One dead town is as good as another, and a city is likely worse. I didn't know how far things had spread, though I doubted the other side of the country is more habitable than where I came from. Oh well, gotta try. Beats playing dead. Besides, maybe I'll get the chance to clean this town out. Bet that'd impress the big guy upstairs.
I snorted again. Yeah, right.
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OOC: Shari, Matthias. Here’s the deal. Matthias, I’m going to disregard your post for now, but I’ll leave you hints in mine for places where you can jump in. A suggestion though: think about practicality before you jump in. If you walk into a group of soldiers with guns, while covered with blood, you’re going to get shot. Feel free to either edit your post or, post something new.
Shari, your post is fine as it stands. I was glad for the complication. I don’t mean to be a stickler for OOC posts. In general, I don’t like OOC threads as they make players waste breathe on talking about posting than actual posting. But here, obviously was a legitimate confusion, most of which was my fault.
DK. Sorry I didn’t respond by email earlier. It’s a great first post. I just wanted to clear up a few things. The caravan is somewhere between Alabama and Kansas, neither of which are “near” Des Moines. I had hoped to make that a little clearer, so this was an error on my part. Also, if you’re in Kansas, by the military base, it might take a while to get there. I don’t have the plot all straightened out in my head either, so it might take some initiative on your part to join the group so to speak.
Also, you mentioned to me that you’re playing a vampire. Yet you sort of strode into the sun to avoid the “near-dead.” If you’re immune to the sun as Alice is becoming, that’s fine. But take care to explain that a little, next time.
---
[GMs Note]
Fair warning to all. We all seem to be leaning towards being a merry group of strangers. This is natural in an RP setting, as well as in a post-disaster setting, but keep in mind, people are not generally the sort without their own agendas. Especially not werewolves and vampires. Or angels…
---
Uriel
The problem wasn’t so much that we constantly dealt with these monsters, day after day. It wasn’t even so much that men died. Men had always died. If they hadn’t died in this tragedy, then they would’ve made one themselves, taken fire straight into their own hands, and forged their own destitute fates. This was a test, set forth by God himself, to cleanse humanity of its ills.
What bothered me was that we hadn’t merely destroyed humanity for the sake of cleansing it, we were still left with monsters among men. I was several cars back, sitting with Angela near the rear of an SUV. Other than her with the small-caliber pistol that I had given her, the only other armed men were the two in the front seat. The driver was an Asian military man, who had served as an engineer. The other was a man who claimed he used to be a police officer, and although he had the gun and badge to prove it, I didn’t believe him. He fingered the gun as he spoke, cracking racist jokes at the driver while casting lurid looks at the women in the backseat.
We stopped suddenly, and of course, Hog was the loudest with his questions, giving us anxious gazes, pulling down the window and yelling with his hand out, taking the opportunity to declare that he needed to take a piss. Our own concerns were more abstract. We only had a few more hours of daylight and we had planned to reach the outskirts of Memphis, Tennessee before the sun set.
I had become complacent, living these past few days with men, and I assumed that we had only met with survivors. Therefore, I didn’t immediately react after Hog had exited the vehicle to take his piss and had instead started firing his gun at something directly ahead.
Immediate protests were made, orders to stand down, but it was too late. Something ahead of us was making a violent response to the gun-fire. Even with my vision, I barely caught the glimpse of the creature dove straight for Hog, turning him into a wild-mess of bones.
I was on the passenger side, and even as I felt poor Angela’s nails dig into my forearm, I stepped out of the vehicle. Now guns were firing at will, and the wolf-creature dashed back to the woods, taking a good chunk of Hog’s neck with him.
For a brief moment, I caught Owen’s eye. Owen was a good man. He had told me that he had recently graduated college and was serving his dues with the army when the virus spread. An educated soldier. A paladin. I gave him a look that served better than any command. His men retreated to the vehicles, started their engines and rapidly continued on their path, leaving me behind to track the wolf. I had a duty, a responsibility to deal with creatures who slew men, regardless of what kind of scum they were.
My hands burned of their own accord, as I set off for the woods.
OOC: Some heavy PRPing, Shari. Please feel free “rewrite” some of this in your next post.
Vagrant, good to see you back. Welcome.
DK. Concerning Lucious. It's not that I'm worried that you're mimic'ing Constantine, but rather fulfilling the same sort of role that either Uriel is playing, or possibly Vagrant's new character (he posted before you). (edit) Scratch that. I did some googling as the -L was rather suspicious. I don't think Lucious will fulfill a similar role as Vagrant's L.
I'll leave Vagrant to his own plans. :P
DK, it's not a problem for now, but you may need to adapt him, or else you'll just be shadowing elements of Uriel. Either that, or use him to pick up your own story line.
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ooc: I edited my post as the ooc comment in it mentions. I didn't post again figuring you'd read it after you suggested editing it.
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Curse humans and thier petty superstitions! No sooner had the leader of the little caravan formed his lips into the precursor of a question did one of his bumbling little fools fall out of a car further back and choose to open fire at the sight of me. Damn fool. I've lived for over 850 years, and still I can't understand the humanity I've so long been without. What drives these poeple to bend to violence in the face of change?
His weapon, a medium calibur rifle, discharged a series of bullets at me. instinctivly, my legs lauched my mass of muscle and pure ferality airbourne. I can't say I did it on impulse, or that I lamented my actions, but I was onlyslightly worse off than before as I came down on the stupid sap and ripped his arms from thier sockets while simultaneously closing my jaws around his throat. Self-preservation is staple of sentience, yet people still think me a monster. Perhaps they are right. Mutilating a man in less than a second is not exactly a sign of good will.
Fearing my own imminent demise, I broke across the field still clutching the man's left arm. Bullets followed my trail, but none managed to hit thier mark. Few humans have ever seen a wild animal at full retreat, and none have seen a pureblood lycan. I would have been suprised if any of them were not so shocked that they had the time to aim and perhaps do some damage.
I crossed the threshold into the forest and the bullets stopped, broken against the bark of the trees. Stupid humans. It's no small wonder thier race is dying. Survival of the fittest. The earth will always bring down those who cannot live the smartest upon her.
Panting only slightly, I stopped a few hundred feet into the trees. The arm I clutched wasnt particularly muscular, but I needed something. The undead would eventually catch up to me. I pulled the remaining sleeve off the arm and tossed it to the ground. Humans were not much of a meal, as it were, but a minute later, the bare bone was testament to my desperation. As I tossed the remains to the ground, my senses were pricked by that same feeling I got from the caravan. I turned to the source, crouching low. Whatever this thing was, it was not human and it was not very pleased. I imagine I might have offended it somehow...
I felt my bloodrage rising as it drew closer, but restrained myself from attacking. Instead I stepped out from behind the tree which partially concealed me. I became aware that I was giving off a low threatening growl, but did not stop myself. He should know that I did mean to harm him if he wanted a fight. His hands were burning, but after almost a milinnea of life, there's not much I hanven't seen. Why shouldn't someone know some kind of magic? After all, most humans didn't even accept the existance of lycans or vampires.
"Stop there..." I growled, "The last time your people fired at me, one of them died. Don't make that man's mistake..." My claws extended, still wet with blood. What is this creature?
-
Tacca Chantrieri
Last day I spent underneith ground in an empty cellar in Topeka, which I now have left far behind, heading towards Junction City. I had a feeling that my target, Ted Dokes, wouldn't move far from his current position. Ted was a young vampire and with a high stress level, so he was fairly easy to connect with even in such a long distance as this. He hadn't moved at all during last night and day, at least from what I could tell as I felt the distance between us grew shorter. I cannot really explain how I know these things, I just do. It is part of my blood as a Hunter, skills that have been inherited down.
The first Hunter, or so Leon told me once, was an ordinary Kin until they experimented on him. He was not like I am. He was rough and unperfected. Through what could easiest be explained as breeding they managed to perfect these skills into the kind of being I am. With him as the first, they created a long line of blood hounds, their only task to obey their Masters and Mistresses. Never free to roam the dark streets, only to hunt down their prey and then being locked up again in some cage somewhere. Treated like a simple animal. But now, with Leon dead and these new vile creatures that are taking our food supply, things have changed.
But all my skills I wasn't too keen on going to Junction City, with Fort Riley so close by. The military. Anything could happen around the military, but my Mistress insisted that Ted Dokes should get what was coming for him, and so I had to go. Miriam, an old vampiress living in a large mansion out in LA was not my true Mistress. I would only obey one man without question, Leon, but with him gone it was time for a change. It was time to evolve into something new, bring the Hunter inside of me into a new Era. No, Miriam was my first employee. For the right price I hunted down those that didn't want to be found.
I was coming closer to Junction City, and perhaps it was all for the best, because the gas in the abandoned Sedan I had found last night was running out.
OOC: I'm still trying out my char and her background as a Hunter, and what it actually means, so if you have any objections let me know.
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Marcus
(It's perfectly fine, Ark, though you didn't have to mention his vamp-ness yet :V I was going to explain more later on, probably the next post or so. It was getting to long and such. I was going for the movie aspect, where people don't know stuff until it's revealed lol, but that's no issue. I'm editing the post to place him somewhere in your general vicinity, just for fun. Memphis is the new location, rather on the way for you lot. As for the sunlight stuff, that was gonna get explained as well, likely after Marcus met Alice or Uriel.
In regards to Dominic's role, he's sorta like Uriel, only fully human, but angsty and pissed off in general. Sorta like an anti-Uriel, even though they go for the same goal. Motives and all are different. Besides, he could possibly become a source for Uriel to try and 'reconvert' and such, I dunno. We'll see how he goes
fake edit: I just read your post, Ark. I didn't even know you had already posted about Memphis when I picked it XD
ps - I'll fill this with an actual post tonight I hope, I just wanted to clear that stuff up before anyone else posts)
I looked up at the sun as it beat down upon my body. I must say that it does feel good to feel those rays shining down on my skin, even if it does hurt. At least it is not like it was, the pain is minimal, like a stubbed toe that is merely an annoyance. I was growing, so to speak, though the manifestations of my race were approaching more rapidly than usual. I did not know what that might mean for me, however I was not going to deny myself this simple pleasure.
In the distance I saw the Navy base. It really wasn't much of a base, though it served it's purposes for me. Most of the military material and information there was of some help, I had been in the armed forces before and so I knew what knowledge could be gleaned from it. There was also the promise of vehicles and fuel, both of which would assist me when the time came to leave the city for good. As I walked my mind began to wander as it frequently did these days. My most recurring thought was, of course, of Rose. Those were both the most painful and delightful.
We had met during one of my travels to New York and grew quickly close. Looking back it was amazing to think that I had grown attached to her at all, or she to me. I had not always been the most sensible person around. I chuckled at that. Course I'm not to splendid of company nowadays, either. I had no set length of stay in New York, as was usual for me, and so I stayed on for weeks. We met and entertained each other so often it seemed as if we never left each others company. I did so enjoy that, to have the company of a beautiful and vibrant woman with whom I could share myself with. Even in death she was beautiful... she would always be beautiful...
I yelped softly as my hip smacked into the intercom box at the base's gate. I grabbed and shook it, grunting and groaning as it swayed in my grip. I noted in satisfaction as the ground it was set in cracked and broke up, finally giving up after a few minutes. Stupid machines. Grumbling to myself about nothing in particular I walked through the slightly opened gate, squeezing between the bars. My mumblings continued as I swept the grounds with keen eyes, always alert for any sign of life. I kept on forward, my first stop would be the armory. I had been running low, and while clubbing those beasts to death was satisfying, it was not always the brightest plan. Why in God's name has this happened? I thought yet again as I surveyed the wreckage that had been a Hummer. Blood was still clinging to the sides and wheels, spattered on the ground.
God. Now there's an interesting concept. I never gave much thought to God in these times, as I do not see why he would allow this to happen to the world. Granted it was not the best world, but still. Humanity was not all that bad. Maybe God really was just a silly myth people had conjured up to keep others in line. I didn't think so, however. God existed, that much I was sure of, though His motives were obviously cryptic and downright cocked up. I sighed, still crossing the compound, passing a few gaping holes in the concrete wall surrounding the base. Damnit I hate getting all philosophical. Just end it already.
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OOC: Matthias, my apologies. Your re-written post is much improved on a number of levels.
Wildfire, same goes for you. A compelling and interesting character so far.
DK. That was my bad. Sorry to spoil things! I should’ve replied by email. I broke my own rules of OOC. :(
[GM’s Notes]
In my experience, the moment when people have signed up is the moment the thread starts to fall apart. People start worrying about interacting and making friends, and forget a little about the action. So here goes something different.
I’m turning up the plot. Real-high.
Also. I have two new-years resolutions. To write about two-pages double-space posts each time for the sake of writing. Secondly. To stop talking so damn much in my GM’s notes for the sake of talking.
- Alice
I gave orders as if I was made to do so, instinctively putting the thoughts of the girl out of my head. She was strangeness incoherent, and I knew that something greatly bothered me about her, but I let that stew in the far back of my head as the trucks pulled up.
Our little bit of civilization was a well-oiled machine, even if it wasn’t a democracy. I knew that I had been unanimously and quietly “elected” to leadership, not necessarily because I was the most intelligent, or even that I knew what we should be doing. But rather because the people didn’t understand me, feared me, yet were forced to place their hopes into a creature that was ultimately stronger than they were.
They didn’t ask questions, yet they obeyed nearly everything I said. Certainly, I wasn’t fit for the job, but I did my best to keep them alive. And I knew that despite the recent slow down of attacks, things were going to hell real fast.
Bradley and Clint manned scout trucks during the safety of daylight, going as far south and west to sift through towns looking for food, supplies, and survivors. They took their best men, left sign-posts should either of them be lost. Clint had gone south, and returned early with three new men and a little girl, no more than 6. Bradley, however was returning late, his little group had their headlights on in the quickly fading light.
As the men opened the doors to open them, I knew something was wrong. The truck-beds were empty of supplies. Suspecting the worst, I pulled the men back, ordered rifles to be trained on the trucks even as I went to open the first door. Bradley fell onto the floor, the change already upon him.
He looked up at me, even as I saw blackness crawl up his skin from a wound upon his arm. But before I could pull one of my shotguns, he clung to me, begging me to wait a moment.
I wish I could say that my momentary compassion spawned from rationality, reason, my suspicion that he had something important to tell me, but the truth is, I remembered Bradley confessing to me that he had to kill the infected version of his own wife. I remembered that stupid confession had made us more than fellow survivors of the same tragedy.
He told me, told all of us as we waited for him to lose his mind, that he and the men had found something to the west that seemed bizarre. It was the vision of a man leading a pack of the monsters straight through the daylight, stopping at towns in search of survivors, as they had been doing. A gasp rang through the crowd, the slightest tinge of panic. It flushed through me like fire, like the fresh infusion of blood.
I grabbed Bradley, brought his twisting face close to mine, creating even greater anticipation in those that watched. A man leading monsters? I asked this quietly.
We followed ‘em all dey, from town to town by foot so we wouldn’t – it was as if there was something beneath his skin that sought to split him open, but for the moment, Bradley held it back. So we wouldn’t be spotted, he managed. He can control ‘em and dey don’t even dare touch ‘em. They follow ‘im like dogs. Bradley took now a moment to look at the crowd. But dey spotted us, anyways, he continued. He didn’t send ‘em to kill us, but he infected us somehow anyhow. We started feeling it the moment we saw – Bradley hiccupped now, blood splashing out of his mouth unto my boots.
How did he infect you? I demanded this, shaking him violently. Needing him to hold the transformation back just one more goddamn minute, so that I knew what we were up against. But he had started crying, tears of blood welling up in the corner of his eyes.
Don’t let ‘em see. Take me to quarantine. Shoot me – but that was the last thing he managed before he started to tear out of my grasp. It didn’t last long, his brain splitting to pieces in front of me. I turned to see Clint in the corner of my vision, holding a long-barreled pistol, still smoking. But then, I was no longer there, catching the creatures that were once men as they slipped out of their trucks. I caught them by their necks, breaking them with one monstrous grip.
Fear rode the air, and I stilled it with these instant moments, as if I hadn’t snared necks, but rather had visibly grasped our fates. Still, the fear filled me, fueled me, drove me to the edge of the abyss and back. It changed me.
Maybe Bradley and I weren’t too different. He hadn’t been able to resist the change that had come upon him. Neither could I.
---
-Uriel
I am not a man, I declared in response to the beast’s warning. I am the wrath of God, I thought, but I didn’t not say this aloud. I did not need to for I would let my actions speak louder than words. Gabriel had always been better with words.
For a moment, I considered the wolf’s crime. If anything, it had helped to eliminate scum from the paltry remainder of society. Yet, a man’s life is a man’s life. It is not up to us to judge, but God, and as God’s instrument, only I had the right to judge.
But as I flew, the length of holy fire extending like dragon’s breathe from my palm, I paused and with my hesitation my fire extinguished itself, and would not re-light.
The wolf gave me a curious look, before dashing at me, realizing her danger. Although I could not defend myself with my fire, I grasped her heavy neck as her gaping monstrous fangs sought to detach my head. My fire was innate, it flooded this human form, threatening burst it like a grape. I flung the beast away from me with a swift kick, sending it crashing into the trunk of a nearby tree.
I wasn’t angry or terrified. I’m not possessed of such emotions.
Again, I tried to light my fire, by it refused to fill my hand as I struggled the wolf rose again. I looked for my devotion, my surety, my sworn passion and while it bubbled in the depths of my human form, it failed to split the surface. The same fire that had obliterated Miami. The omnipotent fire of Heaven. God’s flame.
It failed me now.
Or rather I had failed it. The wolf warily circled me this time, waiting for an opening, unsure if my sudden stillness, my confusion was a trap. As I watched it in return, another possibility dawned upon me. The blood that glistened in the setting sun upon her hair seemed somehow infinitely grander than what humanity had become. The gleam of her devilish eyes seemed somehow more mature, more intelligent than most I have met.
Perhaps I couldn’t pull the trigger because I was wrong. Perhaps, her sins could only be judged by God not only in the afterlife but this one as well. I could not send her to the Almighty perhaps because she still awaited judgment on this earth. Perhaps, I was not this Grendel’s Beowulf.
When she roared at me, I slowly held up both of my hands, speaking softly as I did so, “Werewolf. I will not slay you. But if you continue your aggression, I will burn you from the inside out.”
Surely, it was an idle, false warning. But, if any one has the capacity to utter falsehoods with great intention and belief, an angel could.
---
“The sun sets before the winter eats. Grand dragon crawls. It’s shadow fills with the shadow of many. Legion are ghosts, churning their broken feet as thou measures thy steps.
“Fear is the mindkiller. Minds that thou slaughters. Thou shalt be the mindkiller.
“The sun sets upon thy bandages, but they do not burn away, lost one. What dost thou seek in this great barrenness. Man flees before thy vision and does not look back. Run little ones, run home, the wolf has come.
“Why, what sharp teeth you have, Grandmother? The better to eat you with. The better to eat you with.”
OOC: It is currently 12:45am. Christmas Day. Merry Christmas, people.
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ooc: It's alright, I hope you didn't take my ooc post as pissy in any way, didn't mean it to sound angry or anything.
IC: Closing my eyes, I drifted to sleep hoping to catch a couple hours worth before moving further south across the washington/oregon border. I'd been moving quickly during the night the last few days while resting and eating during the daylight. So far, my strategy has caused me to only run into about 5 of those creatures. I've covered alot of ground in these last few days of traveling only at night. My senses have led me with an odd feeling that I was heading towards where I wanted to be. Another odd feeling was hitting me right about this time...my eyes were opening...but it felt like I had them shut still. It was dark out when I opened my eyes...IT WAS DARK OUT! My eyes shot fully open as I sprung to my feet, apparently my body was more worn out than I thought it was and decided to rest longer than I wanted to.
Glancing around, I didn't see any of those things running around...which normally would be a good thing but this time felt different. I couldn't help but feel that they were specifically avoiding my sight to ambush me...like they planned it out to get me. Starting to sweat, I wiped my head with my forearm before beginning to jog. Changing into my better half mid-jog, I caught scent of something I hadn't smelled since I was with her. My eyes jolted wide as I spun around, wildly searching for that scent that I caught only a whiff of. My heart raced...he was near. That bastard...that son of a...but my thoughts were cut off as a couple of those things leapt out from behind a flipped truck. Ducking the first's dive, I grabbed it by the throat and quickly ripped it in half. Using it's lower body as a bat, I smacked the second one away and threw the head at the third. Pouncing on the second before it could recover, my claws were quickly bloodied by the mangled bits that were left. The third didn't last much longer. As I bent over the third, ripping another part of it off...the scent came back. Lingering for a few seconds this time, I caught the direction it was from.
I took a few moments to sit on top of the truck and wipe myself clean with some rags. 'There's bound to be more nearby...' I thought as I searched the truck for anything I could use, finding a person. 'Some food's better than none...and I need my strength for that son of a...' Again my thoughts were cut off...another group of those things were closing fast. More than I'd care to handle. I'd love to jump in and rip all the 50 some odd of those things apart, but logic told me I'd die in the process. I needed to kill him first, then it doesn't matter. Facing the direction the smell had come from, I grabbed the person...food on the run. Keeping the clothing in a bag I'd found, I might be able to use it later.
I ran for hours. I ran until the sun's rays started to shine through the clouds. I didn't realize just how much ground I'd covered with that pissed off sprint until I noticed I was on the road and saw a roadsign. Jagged and rust covered...I barely made out Junction City in this direction. My nose lost the scent hours ago...but this was the direction I needed to go. Devouring the arm that was left of the person I've been carrying, I slowed to a walk and continued down the road. This city must be where's he's at.
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Delrana
OOC: Delrana is actually male... but now that I think about it, I kinda want to expiriment with the same character as a female. Besides, where's the fun in two male warewolves? Alpha fights would probably involve one of them being killed, and I'd hate to lose that fight :P
IC:
He attacked, and despite my slightly delayed response, I countered. I didn't care why his attack failed, or that it may have been issued as a warning. My instincts told me to retaliate, and I would be long dead before if I hadn't listened to them in the past. My own attack, as it were, was futile. He declared his inhumanity before things got violent, but only now did I believe him. He held back any attempt of mine to kill him, and tossed me away like it was easy. My pride was hurt, but I recovered.
I began to circle him, this time using my cunning, rather than brute force. Wolves by themselves are amazing creatures, but thier lack of ability to reason is what makes them animals. Give them that trait, and a lycan is born.
I could see that he was unsure of something. I had no doubt that the fire I saw before was still there somewhere, but I began to doubt his intentions. He wasn't standing aggressively anymore, and seemed to be... calmer? No, he may look like a human, but that doesn't mean he expresses like one. I had to keep up my guard. I braced myself and stiffened my back as I let out a loud roar, hoping to provoke a reaction from him. Instead, I got a deflection.
He held up his hands, not in surrender, but in a "let's talk about this" way. He was not a threat anymore. He came here with murder in his eyes, and now he wanted to reason with me. If he wanted information before, he would have beat me to human form and taken it before ending my life. He wanted me alive. Unharmed. I don't know what changed his mind, but I don't claim to know the mind of a creature such as this.
"Don't insult me," I responded after he spoke, "I am not a warewolf. I am a lycan. Warewolves are the half-breed mongrels of Satan who used my kind to strengthen themselves and hunted us to near extinction in the process." I began a detransformation, but stopped it somewhere in the middle. My control over my ability was absolute. Eight and a half centuries of practice serves well.
My figure was mostly human, but my muscles were still slightly enlarged and I retained my claws. My naked body was kept modest by the remaining presence of fur covering my more feminine features. My face was clean, however, and looking upon a human face was hopefully more reassuring to this fellow.
"What do you want?" I asked, this time in a much more melodius - but no less threatening - voice than I could manage as a wolf. Seemed like so long ago since I'd heard my own voice. No need to add a false accent or tell a lie about my life before coming to whatever new city I decided to live in this decade. My memories of my birthplace and my true origins were all but faded. The language of my people was lost; replaced by French and German and a dozen others. But hearing myself speak reminded me that I was still at least a little bit human. Still a mortal, and not the ghost of a woman who forgot her past.
"What are you?" I asked, this time, my aggression all but evaporated.
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OOC: Sorry, Shari. Looks like I’m making mistakes all over the place. I do appreciate your trying this out anyways. I also like what you’re doing with were-wolf lore.
Vagrant, playing a little with your character, assuming my caravan was the one you mentioned.
This is a bit of a filler post to tie the two of you into the story a little tighter. As an NPC, Owen is welcome to be used.
- Owen Lancaster (NPC)
Owen had every reason to believe that the old man was lost. He had no idea what he had thought in that moment, and for while, as Dora drove, leading the caravan for shelter, he worried that his judgment had been predicated on his fear. Certainly, no one would be particularly sorry for the loss of Hog, a brutal, unintelligent jerk-off, but Owen felt guilty and while logic dictated that he had acted responsibly, taking the caravan away from the wolf-creature, he wasn’t certain that he had demonstrated the courage that a leader ought.
Werewolf? Could it have been? These things were but a nightmare. If so, would bullets have even killed the thing?
From the back of his car, a thin voice casually interrupted his thoughts, “You did the right thing. That man can take care of himself.” (Note: L.)
Of course, his thoughts immediately turned back to the old man. Or was he really old? There were certain features to Ishmael, as he called himself, that made him seem old. It was the way he turned his head sideways to listen, as if he was hard of hearing. Or sometimes, in the darkness of the night, even amidst the sounds of automatic weapons firing, Owen had heard Ishmael sigh sometimes in a way that came from the depths of his bones.
Ishmael, despite his solemn, taciturn nature, naturally drew men to him. Unafraid of toil, or trouble, or perhaps as a natural martyr, he had chosen to sit in the same vehicle as Hog, sparing at least one other person else the disgusting ramblings of a depraved man. And on the long car-rides, men spilled out their stories to him as if he were a priest, a confessional. He bore each sin, each ghost with little complaint always wearing his same weary grim look. And in the nights, while the men fought, he sat with the women and children, saying nothing, even as many leaned towards him for comfort.
Angela had confessed to Owen one early morning that she thought Ishmael made her feel safer than all their guns.
“That man isn’t exactly who you think he is,” came again the voice from the backseat and only now did Owen turn back to cast a curious look. They had picked up the stranger only half a day ago and each time he had kindly requested to sit in the front: “For the best view,” he had said, though he assured them each that he was particularly adept with any weapon that they might request that he use.
Owen didn’t trust him. The man had a way about him where anything he asked could hardly be denied of him. And even though earlier, he hadn’t quite wanted to give the man a gun, he still unequipped himself of his 32 caliber pistol and handed it to him. However, that wasn’t what made Owen most uncomfortable. It was the fact he didn’t know the stranger’s name and every inclination to ask him during the car ride had met with abrupt interruptions, including the massacre of Hog.
So it was now that Owen had made up his mind, “So what’s your name, anyway, stranger?”
At which point the car grinded to an immediate halt, with a set of wild profane exclamations from Frank Dora. They weren’t far from the town, but the sun was setting quickly, and in the darkness they had nearly run over the man and woman who were now standing out in the middle of the road.
Owen didn’t even bother to pull his gun, somehow the vision of the man was immediately familiar. Of course, who else could it be except the miraculous Ishmael, unharmed, his hand leading a woman, barely covered with his coat. Owen stepped out to welcome Ishmael himself, escorting him and the woman to their original vehicle where Angela yelped with glee. He was easily assured when Ishmael whispered that he had saved the woman from the wolf in the woods.
Of course. That explained why the woman was barely dressed. Of course.
Owen got back in the car. They were nearly to Jonesboro, Arkansas.
OOC: I have had the remarkable fortune to have actually visited Jonesboro. You can be assured that our fictional Apocalypse is probably the best thing that’s happened to it.
-
Jessica
I watched with an eerie fascination as Alice shouted out orders. I did not know how long I watched him, but I knew it was growing late. As I watched, I could see the anxiety increasing on Alice’s face. No one else seemed to notice, but I had a deep gut feeling that something was amiss. Unable to stand any longer I squatted down onto my toes and leaned against the wall where I was hiding. I used the dark shadows of the night to keep myself unnoticed. I rocked back forth against the wall as I waited for what ever it was that was coming.
Just as I thought nothing would happen, the gate to the bunker opened. In rolled a couple of trucks which seemed nothing out of the ordinary. The first of the trucks was one of those Dodge Rams. This one was dark red, with patches of mud encrusted all over the underbelly. There were also several large dints and a bent front bumper as if had been attacked. Alice ordered the rifles set on the trucks and began to slowly approach the vehicles with a stiffness that was only enhanced by the tension of everyone else. They all watched with their guns ready.
I held my breath as a man rolled out of the first truck, and collapsed at Alice’s feet. I stopped rocking and intently leaned forward hoping to get a better look at the man. Even as he attached himself to Alice, I could see a blackness stretching across his arm and up onto his neck. It vaguely reminded me of Venom from Spider man. It was just as grotesque and terrifying. The man begged for the end of his life, and I pitied him.
I noted the hesitation in Alice. If it was one thing that I learned since the end of the world it was that hesitation will only get you killed. Just do it I screamed in my head trying to will Alice to put the man out of his misery. Do it before we all get infected.
We all listened intently to the infected man’s words. They were not comforting words. Out there somewhere was a man, a man that had infected the man now dying at Alice’s feet. As the man spoke, I could feel the tingling in my fingers begin to slowly creep up my hands into my arms. Last time had been quick and like electricity. This time it was slow, and I could feel the hairs on my arms stand at attention. The Blackness was killing him from the inside out. I don’t know how I knew. I just knew. I stood slowly hoping no one would notice. All eyes were else where. I rubbed my arms and hoped the feeling would fade. It did not. Then suddenly, the feeling increased ten fold. There were more people dying. I could feel each and every person in the trucks. They were all doomed.
The feeling had now completely engulfed my body, and my ears began to ring. It was so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts. With out any notice the pop of a shotgun went off and the infected man was left with his gray matter scattered across the ground. My eyes darted to Alice. It was then that my heart began to threaten its way out of my chest. I gasped as I watched Alice snap the necks of the remaining, unfortunate, infected men as they tried to dash out of the trucks. That was not the strength of a man I saw, but of something else.
I could not take it any more. The ringing in my ear grew louder and louder. I winced as my balance began to waver. I stumbled backwards a step. What was happening to me? I covered my ears with my hand and hope to dull the ringing. It wasn’t working. I doubled over in pain as my head began to pound. I did the only thing I could think of.
I screamed.
I screamed as loud and as hard as I could. It was like I pushed a blast of energy hurtling away from me. I actually heard Alice grunt as he fell. When I had finally expelled everything from my lungs I feel to my knees. The ringing had stopped. I breathed in and let it out slowly. It was several moments later that my heart began to slow to a normal rhythm. It was then that I could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. It was no use to hide anymore. I looked up at every one. The look of seer confusion was not exactly what I had expected. I looked at each of them until my eyes dead locked onto Alice’s. I could not read his emotion as easy as I had read the others.
I didn’t know if I liked that very much. I had felt there was something different about him, and now I knew. I bit my lip as we stared at each other. I am not sure how long we looked at other, but he was the first one to look away. He got to his feet and headed over to the group of men who looked uncomfortable to be there. As I watched him, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I gasped at what I saw.
I had not seen a ghost in nearly ten years, but as clear as day I saw him. Standing above his own bloody, mangled corpse was the man who had been shot in the head. He looked down with a look of despair. I gulped as he looked up to look directly at me. All the memories of my childhood flooded back to me.
The cemetery I played in as a child was riddled with ghosts. The children were fun to play with. Hide and seek was my favorite game to play. That all ended before I was 10. My father was a harsh man and when he caught me playing there one day. I was grounded for a week and I never allowed to return. I still saw ghosts after that, but over the next few years I saw fewer and fewer. Then on the day of my 13th birthday I saw one for the last time. My father had completely convinced me that it had all been part of my imagination. Teenagers don’t pretend, my father had said.
“I am sooo sorry” I mouthed the words to the man that no one else could see. He nodded once and slowly looked in the direction of Alice. As I followed his gaze, I felt an over baring feeling of thankfulness. I knew that he wanted me to thank Alice and I agreed to tell him.
A surge of energy vibrated through my fingers and I looked down at them. I suddenly knew what I had to do. I lifted my hands out towards the ghost extending my fingers out as far they would reach. I followed my gut and mental pushed my energy out through my fingers. It didn’t happen on the first try, but I kept trying.
Then it happened. Nearly blinding me, a bright light shot out of my fingers and across the court yard. It stopped directly beside the ghost. When he looked back at me he smiled. I nodded and motioned for him to go ahead. The soul needed no more encouragement. He was gone. The light vanished.
I let out another deep breath. I said a silent prayer, and slowly got to my feet. I turned to head back to my cot when I realized that only Alice was left watching me.
-
Lucem Ferre
OOC: Actually Ark I'd intended to keep L seperate from the group for a little while and also to not have him aware of his true identity, which you've obviously tweaked. Your write-in for me helps a lot though, so I'd rather roll with it... besides, I think having him self aware will be a lot more fun.
IC:
Time rolled on, as it had a tendancy to. I jumped from caravan to caravan, working my way up north out of Lousiana looking for something. Salvation, perhaps? I think deep in my bones I'd needed a change of scenery more than anything else. Too many old, bad memories in New Orleans. The site of my slide into a haze of self pity and delusion that I'd only just properly started to recover from.
The latest caravan I'd joined up with that day threaded it's way through Arkansas. To be perfectly honest, I found the entire bloody journey an exercise in tedium, its monotonous nature broken only by playing poker with some of the other survivors with a battered deck of cards I'd managed to scrounge at one of our stops.
I cheated outrageously.
It was an excellent way to keep my supply of cigarettes up and I'd found that I'd needed them lately, because truth be told he set my nerves on fire. By 'he' I mean of course 'Ishmael', though I knew the second we met and locked eyes that Ishmael certainly wasn't his real name. He glowed, just as I did. The only difference is that I hid mine fiercely. I've had a lot of practice over the years at not being noticed when I want to be and it took all my control to make sure that all he saw was a dishonest but basically good natured man.
Since I had spent a lot of the trip confined to the back seat, the position of untrusted stranger, I was almost relieved when the attack came. I didn't get to see the attack in detail of course – I never did succeed in talking my way up to the front – but Owen obligingly told me the details of Hog's misfortunes with a little nettling. Ah, Owen. Insufferably pious Owen. Predictable, stick-in-the-mud, killjoy Owen. I suppose I shouldn't speak too harshly of him, he did give me a gun to play with.
I hadn't sat through an attack with this caravan yet and wasn't looking forward to the opportunity to do so without some form of protection. Thankfully Owen was insecure and self-doubting enough that persuasive talk was more than adequate to procure a weapon. You'd think if I could talk a gun off a man that I could have sat up the front. Ah well. I took up conversation again, gently probing him about our mysterious guardian Ishmael, but Owen seemed to know little more than anyone else with the convoy.
The conversation turned back to me, Owen's attempt at friendly openness failing completely to veil his obvious distrust as he asked my name. A half a dozen pseudonyms sprang to my lips, falling away as I gave a wry little smile. “Call me L-”
I flew forward against my seatbelt as Frank slammed on the breaks, letting out a loud expletive and very narrowly avoiding a blasphemous outcry. Which was quite possibly a bonus as Ishmael was now standing returned in the middle of the road. I wound down my cramped window in the back of the car, leant out of it to watch as he and the near-naked girl – and believe me I did enjoy that part - made the progression back down the line towards their car.
Owen clambered back in and nodded for Frank to start the car again and we drove onwards to Jonesboro. It took all of two minutes before Owen looked back curiously over his shoulder to see me looking at him expectantly, eyebrow raised. “I told you that he'd be fine, you know..” I murmured, a smile playing over my lips. Owen smiled the uneasy smile of a man who is unsure if he is being mocked and quickly settled for explaining to me as if I was mentally dulled that Ishmael has rescued the woman from the wolf that had attacked us earlier. I merely smiled and leant back into my seat and dozed complacently.
Darkness was approaching far too rapidly as we arrived in Jonesboro, our little caravan's run in with the woman and the wolf having delayed us. Concern was etched into faces as we started to haul out and set up, seeking a secure shelter for the night. I stayed low, out of the way, watching as the girl Ishmael had picked up came out of the car. A dry voice in the back of my head suggested giving her a wolf whistle. The more rational part reminded me that Ishmael was nearby and knowing his kind he would not be pleased. I lit a cigarette and tried not to think about it. Being around Ishmael was like an intoxication and not in a good way. I needed to get away.
-L.
-
OOC: Vagrant. I apologize. I was just playing by what you were hinting at, but with all the metaphors, I was under the impression that L. knew exactly who he was. I'm just stabbing in the dark. Truly sorry.
---
- Alice
The moment that my knees crumbled under me, I knew fear again, an emotion that I haven’t possessed since the day that I died. It was an emotion that I was continually finding that I thrived upon when I encountered it in others, but in the long years since I died, I had become almost sure that I could no longer believe in something as trivial as fear. I could no longer believe in weakness.
Still, looking across the crowded space at her, whatever I felt definitely resembled fear, a nerve along the length of my spine tingled, wriggled with powerful epileptic motion. I got back to my feet, using the momentum to regain my serenity. There was little that I could do about her, presently. If she wanted to harm me, I would tear out her throat.
Night set quickly as we made our preparations. I had Clint and a woman called Esme in the two towers that we’d built. They were both remarkably good shots. It was our basic plan to take out the man in the coat before he even got close. On the off chance he did get close, I still had our usual assembly of rifle-men peering out from stations that we had set up in open bunkers.
The best laid plans of mice and men…
The invasion came not with a bang but a whimper. Esme fell out of her tower, head-first, without so much as a curse. The blackness crept, but could not spread from her broken neck when I went to inspect her. Immediately, I climbed the tower to Clint, but he was shivering with fever, his eyes still on the prize, but his muscles tightening against the infection that was spreading from his hands upwards, making him incapable of firing the rifle.
I put one hand on his shoulder and it was as if he relaxed, as if he were relieved to immediately see my face as the Grim Reaper. Alastair, he said my full name once, as if forgiving my immediate snapping of his neck.
I picked up his rifle and looked down the scope, but for a long minute, I couldn’t locate his target, the darkness seethed with unseen shapes. I worried, swept my vision from side to side until I spotted that the man in the dark coat about the length of a city block out from our little makeshift-fort. He was standing still, looking precisely in my direction.
I tensed my finger on the trigger immediately, lined up my shot and fired, aiming for the head. But as I lifted my head from the scope, the tension at the back of neck refused to untangle. Upon a second inspection, it was apparent that the man in the coat was mocking me, holding up a blurry hand and shaking it as if to admonish me from afar. Besides him lay the unmoving form of the monster that had leapt to take the shot from him.
Although I could not hear him, the request to palaver was obvious. What he had done to Clint and Esme had been but a sign of what else he could do. We had wondered where this plague had come from, and now it seemed an eminent possibility that this stranger was the source.
For a long while, I sat there in the tower, eying him through the scope as neither of us made any moves. It was as if he knew I was considering my options, and I let him wait, taking my time to make my decisions, although it seemed that the cold night air trembled, quaked with violent phobos. My men were impatient for orders.
Finally, I descended the stairs. Embrey awaited me at the bottom, meekly calling me by my designations of authority, asking what I was going to do.
I’m going out there, I told him, stepping right past him towards the armoury, an old armored truck filled with weapons. Most of them were guns that required long range ammunition, but I had saved a stash of machetes in the back. I took two of these along with my shotguns, while Embrey pottered after me, protesting until I finally turned to him and told him off.
Look, I said, not so much irritated at him but rather because I was under the distinct impression that I was being used, and that irked the hell out of me. That man out there wants me, I told Embrey, and either I go out there, or he comes in here and turns this place into a zombie nest. I gestured at Esme’s body, to emphasize my point.
Embrey scratched his short pale blond hair where it stuck up mightily. Finally, he shrugged. You’re the boss, he said, which did absolutely nothing to assure me that I was making the right decision. But before I stepped out the front door, I grabbed Embrey real close and whispered in his ear, “Don’t let her out of your sight.”
---
- Embrey Taylor (NPC)
Embrey was a god-fearing man, one who had clung to his faith even after God had killed his only son, a precocious six-year that wasn’t anything like his father. He preferred to blame not God, but himself, for his inability to suffer his tragedy with honor.
So when he was given Jessica as a charge, he took pride in it. He believed it was a second chance, issued by the Almighty himself, albeit in the form of a man who wasn’t really a man. Embrey chose not to think too hard about what Alice was, partly because he was worried that he already knew precisely what sort of creature Alice was, and it was generally depicted as the disagreeable sort, the kind of creature that was a step up from man in terms of the food chain.
But mostly, Embrey didn’t want to know because he liked Alice, not because he was a good commander, or whatever title he preferred (none of them to be exact), but because when Alice was around, something happened to them. It was as if, they literally could not be afraid. It was as if Alice drank in all their worries and dwelled upon them himself, so that they might lead happier lives. And even if that wasn’t Alice’s motive, it was certainly his effect.
This was the reason why Embrey grabbed a pair of binoculars and went up to Esme’s tower to spy upon the gathering. Embrey had been an avid bird-watcher, and his pair of binoculars was his pride and glory. And if his house should’ve burned down and he could’ve only rescued a single object from his house, it would’ve been his binoculars. This opportunity came, not when his house burned down, but when his town had become overrun with monsters. It shouldn’t have been a more likely scenario, but that’s what happened nonetheless.
At first, it was hard to see, despite the quality of his binoculars. He wiped both lenses and then wiped off his glasses before he tried again, and this time in the distance, he spotted Alice’s figure, making his way slowly through the crowd of monsters. They stayed their distance, but Alice took no chances, one hand with a shotgun, the other with a machete.
When he reached the man in the coat, the monsters formed a circle in which the men might address each other. They stood about six feet from each other; Alice was obviously hesitant, his head twisting back and forth, measuring the violence of the monsters, while attempting to keep an eye on his adversary, who on the other hand, was mild, a little stooped, but otherwise motionless.
Although, he could hear none of the words that were spoken, Embrey gave a trembling play-by-play of the action he saw to the audience down below.
“The man seems to be gesturing north, but Alice keeps shaking his hand. He’s motioning with his machete. I think the man wants him to go with him, or something. To follow him, but Alice doesn’t wanna.
“Oh boy. The circle is tightening. I think the man in the coat is threatening him. C’mon, Alice. Shank ‘em.”
He paused. “Did I just say ‘shank’?”
“Oh. Now he’s waving his arms. Fine. Fine. I think he’s saying to the man. The monsters are retreating. The man is turning around. Maybe Alice talked him out of it?”
Embrey flashes a hopeful half-smile at the crowd below.
“Yeah, now it’s just Alice out there. He’s coming back! He’s fine. He’s coming back!”
-
Delrana
We didn't speak much as we walked through the forest. The man had told me his name was Ishmael, but I'd yet to give him mine. After all, we did meet under the pretense that he wanted me dead. Before I cared to wonder at how long we'd been walking, we reached the edge of the trees and stood before a small clearing through which a road was paved. There were headlights in the distance, and I shot Ishmael a curious look. I expected to be hading back towards the road, but ahead of the caravan? Whatever this man was, his powers were beyond mere fire and fancy words.
We stopped in the middle of the road, which provoked a sudden screeching stop from the lead car and those behind it. I tried to cover myself the best I could, but I'd not been to a town or gone looking for clothing since the destruction of New York. Those that I had on my back at that time were long since shredded from either fighting the undead or pushing through forest foilage. At present, Ishmael's coat was the only thing between my bare skin and the elements. I would have rather stayed as a wolf than attempt to decieve these people, but I stayed human at Ishmael's insistance. Either way, they would discover my true identity eventually. It was only a matter of time before we ran into a sizeable group that would need more than firearms to ward off.
From the lead car, a man Ishamel called Owen greeted us. Ishmael told him a small untruth about my identity, and he accepted it. I was led past a number of cars before reaching one which Ishmael opened. A young girl greeted the old man with an enthusiastic hug. Her relation to him wasn't apprant, if there was one. We entered this car and I was thankful to be out of the cold. I got questioning looks from the occupants of the car, but the girl who was so happy to see Ishmael was the only one to say anything.
"What happeded to your clothes?" Was her obvious question. Ishmael told his little lie, so I had no choice but to build off it.
"I've been running for a long time." It wasn't an answer, or an explaination, but she nodded her head as if she understood.
"Mabey we can find you something in Jonesboro. Everyone says it's not a huge city, but I'm sure there's a supermarket or something." She smiled, and I returned a half-smirk. Optimism was synonomus with naieve.
I cast a wary glance out the window as we passed into the town, and darkened buildings blurred by. The sun was only a few minutes above the horizon, which left us less than an hour before complete darkness. Buildings weren't safe, but having all these people out in the open was sure to get someone killed. I was relieved when we pulled into a small motel courtyard. One of the cheap ones with single beds and scratchy sheets. Owen and a number of other armed men began clearing the rooms, yelling something about getting it done before sunset. There were only about fourty rooms.
Down the street, a single solar-powered traffic light was blinking, its brightness waning as its power source faded. I walked to the edge of the sidewalk and inspected the other buildings. Ideally, they should be cleared as well, but time was limited. There was a restaraunt, a strip mall and another hotel in the immediate area. The strip mall had a large department store in the center. That worried me the most. Places like that are completely black insde, even on the brightest day, but the potential for supplies and food was very high as well.
The men finished clearing the hotel without incident and the caravaneers began seperating into rooms with sentries taking their positions on the roof and around the courtyard.
"Owen," I called, and the border patrolman walked up beside me. Ismael was with him, apparantly curious as to what I had to say. I merely directed thier gaze to the department store. "If anything comes, it will be from there. It's also our best bet for supplies. I looked at your stocks. They seem pretty low." I lowered my head as he weighed his options. To me, it was either clear it tonight or wait until tomorrow. Both options were sure to draw gunfire, but the only question was, if there was anything in there, would they attack the hotel tonight?
"My name is Delrana." I chose to forget my real name, but I like the sound of Delrana. It unique and all I remember of my original name, is that it was far easier to pronounce. "Let me know what you decide. I want to help as much as I can."
I turned and left Owen and Ishmael to discuss the situation.
-
Dominic
Bone Gap was a joke, which was both a blessing and a curse. Sure it was quiet, but it was that 'too quiet' sort of quiet. So, yeah, I'm a bit edgy right now. Just a tad. "Good thing no one's with me, they'd probably leave from the abuse. Verbal, I mean." I blinked, swerving to miss a half-turned car. Great! Wonderful. I hadn't realized I was talking to myself at first. Damn I need to find people.
I had been heading down the highway for a little over four hours now. 64 took me as far as St Louis. But once I hit the outskirts I didn't go any farther. There was something.... eerie about the place, even for me. I could tell there was more than I could handle there. So I bugged out double time. I took the highway around the city and eventually got onto 55, straight-shot to Springfield. I couldn't help but smile at the name. At least I had some humor left in me.
Bone Gap had provided me some useful items. Maps, of course, were invaluable, as well as the non perishables I found. Those so-called 'valuables' were of little value anymore. They were left for the buzzards. Who'd want them anyways. Besides, I had something more more value. Not that I'd be sharing anytime soon. After I graciously unloaded the shopkeeper's store for him, I stepped into what was likely to be the most important discovery this town had to offer. Apparently someone in this wasted town had some taste. I grinned to myself as I pulled myself up into the driver seat of the Hummer, the original version not one of those crap GM bastardized models of course. It was loaded, both with options and supplies. Food, guns, ammo, you name it. Course I made plenty of room for smokes. Sure a Hummer isn't the best on gas, but screw it, like I need to pay. Besides, that power will likely come in handy.
And so I had set off, eventually making my way to where I am now. Which, of course, meant I was parked in the afternoon heat and checking my map. I knew I was still in Missouri on the 44. That put me right between St Louis and Springfield. Looks like I was just outside some POS town called St James. Damn saints. Load of luck it did for people naming their towns after them. Whatever. I was taking it slow, but I'd make it to Springfield plenty before nightfall. Figured I'd see how it felt there, else I'd hole up in that town outside the limits, whatever the hell it's called.
-
Tacca Chantrieri
The sedan that I was driving began to cough just outside Junction City. It was drying up. Apparently Luck had decided to laugh at me. So far, while I'd been hunting down Ted Dokes, tracking him across the States, Luck had been with me. I had always found a vehicle and the encounters with those filthy creatures had been few. They had not been more than I could handle myself. So here I was, a few kilometers outside from where my target had decided to stop. Ted Dokes must had known, perhaps not that I, but that someone was after him. He knew as well as I did that Miriam would want retribution for whatever it was that he had done. But now he had stopped, in Junction City. He had not moved for two nights now, and I had a feeling that he was waiting for something, or someone. I knew it wasn't for me. He would be a fool if he was waiting for me.
Finally the sedan stopped, refusing to go another meter. So close to the end of my journey. That was unless Ted Dokes decided to move again. With my newfound bad luck I wouldn't be surprised if he did just that. Cursing I stepped out of the car, leaving it there by the road with the keys still in the car. Perhaps some lucky chump with some left over gas would find it. It wouldn't take me more than 20 minutes of brisk walking to reach the city. Hopefully, he would still be there.
Miriam had said nothing to me about Ted Dokes, more than he was a young vampire who had crossed her. If that meant messing up a bussiness deal or if it meant that he had stolen something from her I didn't know. Perhaps a little bit of both, or something so simple as annoying the old vampire. All I knew was that his name was Ted Dokes and that he was a young vampire. Which meant that it wouldn't be difficult to track him, which had been confirmed, and even more importantly that it wouldn't be difficult to kill him.
I never enjoyed the killing, not like some Hunters I know. I enjoy the hunt more. The thrill of picking up the scent and following it, wherever it may take you. Perhaps the feeling of free air around you, instead of being trapped inside a cage. No, with Leon dead everything had changed. I was free now, and I was out here on my own free will, and when the job was done I could roam free. Although, with my luck, when I finally had broken free so had the virus.
At least it seemed that my luck was returning as I entered the city from the east. The presence of Ted grew more powerful and I knew that he was close. He hadn't moved yet, which meant that he was still waiting. I almost laughed out loud when I tracked him down to an empty warehouse. So predictable. I wondered just how young this vampire was.
I sniffed the air before opening a door from the back, making sure that I wouldn't find an uncomfortable surprise in there. From what I could tell the target was alone. Pleased with what my senses told me I entered, silent as a predator sneaking in the high grass, waiting to strike.
"Well well well," I said clicking my tongue as I pointed the gun towards Ted Dokes' head where he sat behind a large old tractor. "If it isn't Ted Dokes. I'm guessing you know who sent me." It wasn't really phrased like a question but Ted nodded.
"Miriam," he replied grimly. I could almost hear his heart beating rapidly inside the broad chest of his. I wasn't sure what I had expected to find, but I had to admit that I understood whoever had decided to make Ted. He had a very masculine appearance, not that soft beautiful boy-ish look but a roughness to it. If we had only met under other circumstances. I clicked my tongue again.
"Look, before you kill me, y-you really need to hear me out," Ted said. Apart from his stutter and evidently nervousness his eyes were focused on mine. His big blue eyes. I tilted the gun slightly. I could give him a few minutes to hear him out, but then again why would I care? My orders were to kill him, be rid of him. On the other side Miriam did not own me. Perhaps it was my eagerness to prove to myself that it was true that made me nod.
"There is a facility. Here. In Kansas. They are working on a cure. Miriam has facilities as well, and if she can come up with a cure before mankind do you realise how profitable that will be for her?"
I didn't need to ask what the cure was for. It was as clear to me as if it had been written on his forehead. The virus. Knowing the history of Miriam the vampiress she wouldn't just hand it out.
"I stole a sample." He held out a small bag which I quickly snatched with my free hand. Why on earth Mr Ted Dokes would steal from Miriam and hand it out to the humans I couldn't understand. If she was close to finding a cure that would mean that Miriam would be the new power.
"They promised me to..." Ted continued but as I heard something the preditor in me took charge. I broke his neck before he had a chance to finish his sentence.
-
Not dying hurts.
I pray to God every hour, of every day, every week since the world ended. I asked for guidance, I asked for pity, and most of all, I asked for death.
They've been eating me for 3 days now. My pain is the stuff of legends such that only Promethius or Loki could understand my pain.
I barely recall the 72 hours of endless lances of pain barreling into my brain with every bite of these horrible creatures, the passing of days like eternity stretched over infinity, every new bite fresh as the first, every pain as sharp as the last.
These beasts were having the feast of their lives, a God-damnned, if He'll forgive my language, buffet. I just can't die. I don't know why, I just can't. I've been a priest for the last 40 years, since I left my hateful life of ending lives to become a preacher for the Lord. I haven't been all that good of a priest neither, but at least I wasn't destroying lives. People tell me I look very young for a man of 70, but I never took it to heart. I never questioned my ability to survive gun-wounds that would send most men into shock, thinking that it was just my tough exterior keeping me through.
Who the hell knew I was a freakin' immortal?
The undead are gone now. Some survivors found us, and threw a molotov on us, sweet cleansing fire. I never thought I'd feel worse than being eaten alive and not dying from it, but catching on fire, the flames burning out the air from my lungs as it caved in upon itself trying to force my chest to move, my brain slowly perishing from the lack of oxygen and what's left of my body burning to a fine crisp even as I lay on the ground, every inch of my soul screaming to roll around or to scream if nothing else for the agony my body feels, by my Lord in Heaven, I've known true pain at last.
Hell looks like bleedin' paradise after what I've been through the last 6 weeks. If there is any indication that there is a God, this kind of punishment only He could dream up of should be proof enough. I pity Lucifer, the poor bastard.
It took me 13 hours for my flesh to regenerate enough for me to start moving. Zombies aren't all too fascinated with cooked meat, it seems. They left me for juicier meat. Then I proceeded to scream like a bat out of hell for the next 5 minutes, just because I finally regained the use of my lungs and diaphragm and I could.
The sun's up. Here I am, at the outskirts of this irradiated cesspit once known as New York City, after 5 weeks crawling on my belly as my appendages became useless after being burned away to empty stumps, after 3 days of being torn at and feasted on by zombies, being burned away, alive, by human survivors, here I am.
Such is my immortality that even my sanity refuses to die, such is my torture. Has my life been so immoral to warrant such pain, I wonder to myself, look behind me and see the ever present ghosts of my past, leering at me with their dead, accusing eyes, and I no longer need an answer to that question.
I need to get the hell out of here. God, give me a sign, I need to get out of here.
-
I'm not all to familiar with the geography of American, so I'll try to hook up with somebody that's hopefully close enough (give me a PM or something to help me :)) so I can piggyback on your direction :)
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[Gm’s Notes]
For future reference, I would like people to take consideration a few things that I learned in a class a short while back.
A. What does your character(s) want?
B. Since they’re all talking in the first person, why are they talking? and who are they talking to.
You don’t have to discretely answer any of these things, but I’ve found keeping these things in the back of my head to be immensely helpful in my writing.
A. Every person out there *wants* something and if your character doesn’t, then he just isn’t very interesting.
B. Similarly, if they’re talking, they have a reason for it.
Whatever it is, these things round out your character, and make them truly believable. None of you have done a bad job so far, but since we’re still in the beginning stages of getting to know our characters (I know I haven’t answered my own questions), but I figured it might help us all a little.
OOC: Welcome, Horned. Very glad to have you. If you’re unfamiliar with US geography, you might find it useful to do what I’ve been doing: google maps. Haha. Even Americans aren’t familiar with US geography.
---
- Uriel / Ishmael
Although the woman questioned me multiple times, I kept silent. It wasn’t because I wanted to withhold information from her, but it was because I didn’t know how to answer her questions. “What are you?” She had asked first, and that was the hardest question.
If I told her what I was, it put a great deal of pressure on me, a great deal of expectation. Even if I was equipped to handle such expectation, it was not for me to be the subject of inevitable fear and worship. I thought about lying to her, but lying was never my forte and I couldn’t for the life of me come up with one.
Still, I managed to come up with one for Owen. I figured that I would tell him the truth just a little later. Even if Hog had been quick to arm himself, it wasn’t unlikely that others wouldn’t act the same. The world called for it. It screamed for desperation, and as night fell, I was certain that I could hear it.
I knew that the truth would come out eventually, and perhaps I would be discredited, but I was beginning to think such a position better suited me. I still had a mission to accomplish, and now I had been impeded by these adventures.
We made our usual preparations, taking our stand in a lost little motel. I walked in and noticed the bullet ridden windows. Who knew if these were made before or after the apocalypse. We locked all the windows and the rooms after they were cleared. We had rifle-men placed on the second floor, some facing outwards while others looked down into the courtyard. Those of us who were unarmed crowded into two room on the second floor, right by stairs that led back down the courtyard and the vehicles.
It was a position that was ideally defensible, but something bothered me.
Delrana called Owen over and I followed after quietly, curiosity beckoning me forward. Her suggestion was highly dangerous. We would have to spare men in order to clear the store, but as darkness drew closer, even if the store was completely devoid of devils, our position in the motel would be somewhat compromised.
Owen was furious as she walked away, still wearing little more than my coat. “Who the hell does she think she is?” I shrugged. He gave me a confused look. “Aren’t you cold without your coat?” I looked myself over. I was wearing a sweater over a long-sleeve button down shirt. “No. I don’t get cold,” I said plainly.
Now he shrugged. “Hey, Ish. We don’t have that much food left. We don’t even have enough for everyone to eat tonight. She’s right about that.”
I nodded.
“We still have about half an hour before sunset and we’re all ready, and as much I don’t want to spare any men, some supplies would do a lot for morale.”
I nodded again.
Now, Owen gave me almost a sly look. “If the crazy girl wants to help, I say we let her do what she wants.”
I gave him a look, judging him. “I’ll go with her.” He looked startled in return. “What?” Frank Dora stepped into the conversation at this point, looked us both up and down, evaluating our expressions. “One of you is planning somethin’ dangerous, aren’t ya?”
I nodded while Owen stammered.
“Well, I’m in,” Dora stated.
“What?” Owen stated again. “Explorer, we can’t spare you.” It took me a moment to realize that he was still talking to Frank. Apparently Explorer was his nickname. It seemed a little long for a nickname, I thought.
“C’mon, Owen. You got enough men stationed out in at least ten rooms in this measly little town. They should be able take care of anything. Besides,” he jerked his finger in Delrana’s direction, “She’s hot.”
At this, Owen blushed a little. Then, unexpectedly, Angela jumped in as well. “I’m in, too!” She said. She had a backpack on and the gun I gave her was obviously tucked into her pants. At this point, Frank Dora, whispered under his breath, “Jailbait.”
Owen and I joined teams and made our protests, but Angela drew her gun in a wild, fast motion and nailed all three lights on a stoplight. Red. Yellow. And Green. There was something about her that was different. As if her shadow and her form didn’t match. She smirked a little while Dora whistled that he was impressed.
Owen said little else, leaving us to it, as he returned to his preparations.
Dora called Delrana over, handing each of us an Uzi as well as handful of clips.. “Y’know what that is?” he said to me. “Yes. Where did you find this?” I replied.
He pointed at himself and laughed. “Gun collector.”
OOC: Shari, I’ll follow your lead.
-
My eyes were constantly glancing around as I walked through the city in my lycan form. It was around noon, I was hungry...and I picked up that bastard's scent again. It was coming the east...which meant I was west of it. Glancing up at the sun for a moment to regain my sense of time before turning towards the scent. Every home was a potential danger. Every dark alley was too. It may have been daytime...but weirder things have happened then these things and they might work up the balls to attack during day.
My luck, they'd decide to do it when I'm around and then I'd have a whole horde of them to deal with. Chuckling slightly I shook my head. "Yeah. They've got it in for you." I said to myself. "These undead things with no brain are coordinatin." I grinned at the thought...I got more paranoid over the years than I thought I did. I shook my head again as I reached where the scent was. A warehouse of some sort. "He can't be serious? Hiding here is a deathtrap...too many ways in to watch."
I spotted an open door in front of me that seemed to be on the darker half of the warehouse. Ducking inside quickly, I got my bearings. I sniffed the air...my nose practically jerking me towards the vampire behind the tractor. Every sense I had was yelling an alert that this was the guy I'd been tracking. Every muscle tensed, I did a quick scenery scan to see what I could use if things went wrong. During my glance around, someone came in from the other side of the warehouse...a woman. But something was off...she smelled different. She wasn't a normal human.
'Good thing I changed back right before walking in here' I thought. I glanced down as a breeze felt a little chillier then it had before. 'Yeah...forgot about the naked part.' Thinking to myself as I realized that the fur was gone and so were the clothes I had on a couple days ago. 'Oh yeah...that guy's clothes. They might come in handy after this encounter.' I gripped the doorframe next to me...my lycan half wanted out. It practically became another voice in my head during the insanity and paranoia of all these years.
'Go kill them both' It said 'Eat them afterwards' It egged me on. "Hold on." I whispered "I want to see what she's doing for a few moments first." Growling in the back of my head 'Don't blame me if things don't work out.' It angrily spoke...disappearing into my mind again. Peering my head over the barrel I was next to, I observed what happened. A mental wall went up to keep that other half at bay for a little longer...he was hard to control sometimes. The woman spoke. "Well well well. If it isn't Ted Dokes."
So that's his name. I finally know what to call that son of a...'You don't think this'll hold me do you?' That voice again. Why now? The wall cracked a pieces fell from a blow to the center of it. This mental fight I won't win...I want him dead to. A few minutes of listening later and he was in full view. The picture I had in my head of him and the way he stood now...were exactly the same. Two more cracks at the wall, and it was only half still standing now. I shook my head "Hold on." I whispered. "Just hold on."
"Look, before you kill me, y-you really need to hear me out," He's scared. Trying to beg. My temper started rising...the wall started crumbling quicker. He's trying to get what he didn't offer her. Growling sounded from the back of my head again that burst into a roaring. I realized I was growling now as I changed into the Lycan again. Knocking the barrel against the wall it stood next to in the process. The woman grabbed Ted's neck suddenly. She must've heard me. Things started to go in slow motion now. She started to twist his neck violently.
'Kill her...she's going to kill what you wanted to. Kill her now!' He yelled in my head and I all did was growl in response as every fiber of my being agreed. Sprinting out as she was twisting his neck, I reached her as she just finished. Grabbing Ted by the throat as he started to fall limp, I threw him against the tractor. 'I'll deal with her in a minute' I answered the voice finally.' Sniffing Ted for a second I ripped his shirt off. No tattoo on his neck. 'What the...' His smell is exactly the same...he even looks the...as I thought about it the one I'm looking for didn't act like Ted but everything was identical. Twins. Damnit. He's still out there.
Throwing Ted against the wall I turned to the woman. My voice deep and angry as I growled questions out at her "Who are you? How do you know him? Where's his brother? What's his brother's name?" I didn't wait for one to be replied I kept shouting them out, yelling them at her. I needed answers and I wanted them yesterday.
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OOC:
L is pretty obvious, i was surprised you needed to google it at all Ark. ;)
Horned, I sent you a PM.
IC:
I wasn't exactly sure how long I had been tangled in the rebar, but trying to free oneself from twisted rebar is almost as bad as falling on it in the first place, especially when one of the pieces ended up being as long as I am tall. I faded a few times on that one. I was, overall, getting used to the shock of mortal wounds. It didn't take long to realize that you could hang on a little longer if you stayed aware and didn't get anxious. Afterall, what did I have to lose? It was a little weird to just blank out a whole day or a few hours, but I was getting used to it. There were a few perks though, I noticed my knee hadn't felt that good in years; not since I was hit by that car.
I walked on for a bit longer from North 7th Street, where I landed on the rebar, and found Bill's Barbecue. It was pretty unsettling when I thought about how similar bbq looked to a rack of human ribs, in a way. When I hit mainstreet, I headed east for a while and came across Kulture. I scratched my head and decided to walk in, after all no one would get close to me without trying to kill me with how I looked. The power was off. With no one maintaining the oil pipelines for the gas plants, they shut down and off went the power. Thankfully, it didn't matter much. It was during the day and the building had a glass front, It wasn't that hard to see in a place that small.
I browsed through all the clothes they had there and picked out a few things that fit. I had to chuckle when I thought of a man in his early thirties like myself walking around in trendy college clothes for kids half my age. Rather juvie, but whatever. The next closest place for menswear was miles and miles away, and I was a bloody mess. Before I decided to stuff the clothes in bags and put a pair on, I took a little bath in the sink. My face had a thin and scraggly beard of about fourteen days' growth since I was hit by the shotgun, I realized as I looked in the mirror.
Nancy was gone, and my parents. I was sure of it. Everywhere I went in Richmond, I knew I would be haunted by memories of them. Who knew how long it had been that I was in the morgue anyway? All I knew was that most of the food in gas stations was gone or moldy. Everything that would keep was gone and looted, even before the virus hit. Most of the gas stations didn't even have gas, and by now, people would have tried to pump it out of the take themselves with a wet-vac or something, or tried to fill gas cans one at a time by lowering it down. Who cares? I die, I wake up. That seems to be the gist of my existence now. What did it matter?
I finished cleaning up and got into a real pair of clothes. The naked thing hasn't worked out very well since the morgue. It tended to get me shot, stabbed, or pushed off buildings. I doubt a clean outfit would scare anyone into shooting me. I heard some shuffling upstairs suddenly; slow crawly sort of thing. I looked outside and saw the sun was going down, which would explain it. I wonder what they'll think of me now that I look normal and not half-dead, I thought, and decided to hang around. Just in case, I looked behind the counter for a gun. Thankfully, there was one.
I had had a glock 19 before it all happened. I went to the range a lot at first, but it had been quite some time since then. Either way, I was pretty confident that I'd hit the target pretty well. I checked the ammo and safety on the pistol, different than the glock, but felt comfortable. Easier. Looked to be a SIG P220, from the model number markings; .45 cal. It was a full clip, and looked like it had never been used. It was dusty. I hoped it worked, but it wasn't like it mattered anyway. If I died, I'd come back.
I heard slow footsteps upstairs and kept the gun at my side to wait. I saw a bare foot come down onto the step gently, then another. It was a woman, but no reason to lower my guard for that. She got halfway down and must have seen my own legs, because she slowed and stopped, hesitating. I didn't think one of those undead scrounging creatures would have. Either that or they knew that guns are bad for them. In which case, it's good, because I hadn't really had any confrontations with any yet and didn't know if they could be killed or not. If they were like me, but stupid. I walked forward and looked up the stairs.
The closer I got the more I saw of this person or thing, and noted that she wore cargo shorts. She saw I was more or less a normal person and wasn't much more thankful, but at least I wasn't trying to eat her. She was a pretty girl, but nothing too out of the ordinary. She was a college girl, I could tell. She was about that age, and it was a college store. "Wanna come along? It's getting dark," I said simply.
"Umm..." she was rather unsure and timid. Probably shellshocked is the word I should use. "I guess," she finally said, a few seconds later. "You have a gun, so that's better than nothing. You have a place in mind?" She looked concerned, "Somewhere safe?"
"Nope," I replied. "But I would like to see if my girlfriend is alive. It's a long shot, I know, but it would be nice to see her face again. Alive or dead... ..." I kinda lowered my head a little and murmured, "If she still has a face..."
"Hmm?" she asked, not hearing what I said. She went back upstairs, I'm guessing to grab her shoes.
"Ah, nothing," I said. I put the safety on the pistol and stuffed it into the front of my pants for now. There was a backpack on the rack and I took it, stuffing a couple pairs of clothes into it. Having three was alright. You need variety even in an apocalypse.
She came down a minute later with a little boy in hand, rubbing his eyes of sleep. You have to be kidding me, I said to myself in disappointment. Well this sucks. "My name is Damion," I said smiling kind of half-heartedly. I was mentally drained, and pretty hungry. I didn't want to eat human flesh anymore. It was too gross a thought and tasted like iron. Even though I knew it was just dead meat at that point, and no longer a person. There was just something wrong about eating your own species, as a sentient creature.
"I'm Lilly," she said, and smiled back. "This is Derek." She rubbed her thumb across his fingers as she held his hand. She looked too young to be a mother... but these days? Guess not. "He's a good boy. He's scared, but he doesn't freak out. I do, but... I'm still alive. So I guess I'm doing something right. Heh..." it was one of those nervous laughs.
"Any idea of survivors?" I asked. I hadn't been out much, obviously.
"Yeah, here and there... They don't usually want to take us in, because of Derek being so young. Selfish bastards..." She took a deep breath and sighed in frustration. "We stay awake at night and sleep during the day. It's peaceful during the day, but if you're asleep at night, you die. They come on you. You know? The only way they would let us stay with them is if I..." Lilly's eyes got a little red and glossy.
"Never mind that," I said. "We'll find out what to do. I've been, uh, trapped, for lack of a better explanation, but kept safe by it, until a few hours ago. Happened about three or four days ago. So I don't know anything that's gone on since then, at least. Maybe you can catch me up?" I waved to them and they walked forward, ready to depart. I smiled at Derek and patted his back. He smiled back, probably happy to see someone being nice to them for something other than selfish reasons. "But first things first," I said.
"I'm STARVING..." I said. "Any suggestions?"
She bit her lip and made a sort of thoughtful look. "We could leave Richmond, or get out of the city. There's nothing left here that's good to eat. And it smells."
"Heh," I grinned. "It does at that, doesn't it? Alright. I'll check on Nancy, and then I'll oblige you and see if we can get out of this hell-hole."
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Marcus
(Arr Ark, you never replied lol SoHee, I emailed you about Furious btw heh
Horned, don't feel bad, maps.google.com has been my staple in all this XD)
Damnit. I drifted off again. I looked around from where I rested, still sitting on the same crate at the base, leaning back against the wall. Checking my watch briefly, and muttering a silent prayer that I had only been out for a couple of hours, I stood. I felt a little better. The sort of better you usually feel after a catnap. It wasn't that I really needed sleep, but it did feel good every once in awhile. And I had been having the most delightful dream about Rose, summer in Paris, and puppies. I believe there were a few unicorns as well. I always loved how their hair was so incredibly soft. I remember I used too...
Wait. That's not right. Unicorns? That was when I became aware of the fact that I was clutching my head with both hands, fingers twisted in my hair, my elbows propped on the crate. Taking a few deep, somewhat calming breaths I released the near frantic grip on my skull. Dear Lord, I thought, though without a trace of the sardonic tone most of my species would use, Give me strength. It was a simple prayer, though certainly effective. Course, that meant that God would need to, for one, be paying any attention to this world, and two, the even smaller chance He would deign me important enough to listen to.
Using a time-honored skill I had honed over the years, I pushed all thought from my mind. I began to move around again, picking up where I left off. I had made several trips to this facility over the last few weeks, and so I had ran out of places to look. I hadn't taken everything at once, of course, and the armory still held a good reserve of all sorts of goodies. My fingers traced idly over the stock of a M14A1, the most delicious little model in sight. I had several of these hidden around, keeping one on me at all times, and the shooting gallery's were frequented by the sounds of bullet after bullet plugging into the corpses of the dead or incapacitated near-dead I tied up like scarecrows.
I took my leave to go and make a check of the Humvee I kept constantly tuned and stocked, ready for my escape from this hell hole if time permitted. I had not been plagued with those queer mental itches since before I dozed off. It was strange, to be sure, for that was usually the sign of some other being such as myself, or something of the like. It was even odder that there seemed to be more than one, and one all but drove me insane for a brief while. Well, more insane. I chuckled. But it was strange, and I put it off to my almost desperate need for something not near-dead to talk to. It started slowly, I'm not quite sure what it was. For all I knew I could have been thinking it all day, or just thought of it. Hell I didn't even know what 'it' was.
But I digest. Er, digress. Jesus this heat is getting to me. Or is it even hot in here? I shook my head, pushing annoying thoughts away from me again. That's about when I made up my mind. I needed a change of pace, some new scenery. I stood and rechecked the back of the vehicle. Water, extra gas, guns, ammo, even a handy little katana and some knives. It wasn't like I needed weaponry, it just felt good. Besides, it beat using my bear hands. I chuckled without any real mirth. "Well, I think it's abou time we left this place, don't you ol' girl?" I said to the Humvee, speaking aloud on purpose this time. That way, it wasn't crazy, right? So I hopped in and started her up, gunning the engine a few times. I lifted a small box, fiddling with it a bit, and grinned. I headed east, no idea why, but the coast sounded nice for now. Nothing like the world ending to give a man the time to go sight seeing. As I passed the city I could hear distant explosions. My parting gift to the fiends of Memphis. Rest in pieces you sons of *****es.
(And no, I don't mean I leveled the city, just remote charges setup around where the near-dead congregate. I love Marcus <3)
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Our Father in Heaven...
Prayers were about the only thing I have left in this world. That and my demons. They're still marching behind me in some sick procession, like a march of a funeral, except my funeral doesn't end. I've been shot, several times, in the past week. I've grown sick of human companionship since then, but I'm scared to hell to think if I would survive this apocalypse with no human contact for the rest of eternity, old man that I am, I sought out whatever campfires or shelters I could find. I could speak well enough, but a lot of them were screaming at me to check for open wounds, which I was still aplenty with. My whole body was scarred deeply from wounds suffered recently, and they were understandably scared. One even thought I was a zombie, such was my wounds, but I managed to beg them to reconsider shooting me repeatedly in the head. They thought I was an Immune, somehow able to withstand the curse of undeath through some small miracle of genetics. After sitting in front of their doorstep for the better part of 2 hours in the cold, they finally acknowledged that I wasn't going to turn, and let me in. They asked if I knew how to handle a gun, I told them I could.
That was 3 days ago, though. See, the problem with humanity is, no matter how much one clings onto civility in the face of terror, something inside humanity always springs up, like a beast from the depths, to match said horror. I made the mistake of telling these people my... predicament, such was my weakness to babble to inquisitive young people. I'd thought that such a thing would make me, well, invaluable.
I guess it was true to a point. Yesterday, when the mob of zombies came stronger than ever before, they decided to turn tails and flee into the night. They threw me into the horde, because I couldn't die, I could hold them off long enough for them to run. The bastards. Just because I can't die doesn't mean I can't feel the pain, and worse than the others because I didn't have the luxury to be saved from the pain by dying after the initial shock. It just goes on, and on.
They threw a pipe bomb at me for good measure, too. The bloody, monstrous bastards.
I managed to pull myself out from the tangled mess of bodies before the stench of blood carried on to attract more predators. My lesson is learned. Never tell them anything. I'm just a bait they can throw to the beasts when it came down to it. After all, I can't die, they aren't murdering me, how can they when I can't die?
I spent the night in the sewer, as my bones and flesh knitted back into place. I had believed in the good of humanity, but God knows, in this time and age, there was no way for me to find it in them anymore.
Morning. I crawl out from the city limits. Richmond was my new destination. I had family there once. Maybe I could find them. I doubted my chances, but I had to try.
Deliver us from evil, our Father, Amen. God had nothing on me now. Not now. Not ever.
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Delrana
As Owen and Ishmael conversed, I made for the hotel rooms. There were abandoned bags and looted rooms, but it took a little while to find something suitable to wear. As it turned out, I managed to find a woman's suitcase tucked away in one of the rooms not ten feet from her skeletal remains. At least now I have proof that the undead are indeed in this town. And enough of them to clean a body, which is to say, at least... three?
Thier savagery was incredible. I had to wonder where all that flesh goes when they eat it. Even in lycan form I am restricted bythe size of my stomach.
I popped open the suitcase and sifted through the contents. It was untouched; the clothes still neatly folded and toiletries still in plastic baggies. The woman was young, less than thirty years, or she simply wore clothes one would find on a person of that age. I choose a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I didn't bother with underwear. Changing to lycan form would shred anything made of cotton and a bra would only tighten across my chest, making breathing a chore. Besides, hers were to big. The denim might survive, though. They were also a size too big, but my lower half didn't expand all that much. To finish my look, I took a hoodie with a popular brand across the chest, and a satchel-type bag that apparantly served as her purse, judging from the contents I spilled out of it.
By the time I got back downstairs, Dora was calling me over. I stopped briefly at one of the trucks and gathered some flashlights. We would likely need batteries at some point, but hopefully some still remained in the store. When I reached the group, I could tell Dora and Ishmael both felt more comfortable in my newfound modesty. Thier decision was to clear the store with only a small group. It made sense. We could go back for supplies after the store was safe. Dora handed us each an uzi and a few magazines. I smirked. I'd never used a gun like this before. As a woman, I didn't participate in frontlines combat during either World War or any other conflict following it. I'd had some experience with a Winchester during the early 1900's, but I'd never really had use for them.
Angela, on the other hand, was much more than she appeared to be. Her firearm proficienct display moments ago was somewhat disconcerning and reassuring at the same time. One one hand, she could protect herself, on the other hand... what else was she hiding? Perhaps it was hypocritical for me to judge her. After all, I certainly had my secrets.
The sun slid below the horizon just as we crossed the street to the department store parking lot. "Thirty minutes of twilight," I said as I loaded the gun. We jogged the rest of the way across the lot and I flicked on my light as we reached the doors. The automatic doors lay shattered on the ground on the inside. Apparantly, we weren't the first visitors. Dora was the first to enter, and headed along the wall to the right. The remaining sunlight only penetrated about ten feet before shadows took over. His flashlight waved across the floor as he moved foreward.
The shopping carts were still neatly in thier holding area as we passed along at a slow, quiet walk. Along the wall, the first location of intrest was a pharmacy. I looked over my shoulder to Ishmael and Angela. I knew little about pharmaceuticals or thier purpose, but someone back at the caravan might have been a pharmacist or doctor in thier past life. Dora and Angela stopped at the door as Ishamel and I entered the pharmacy.
Ishmael slid over the counter where the perscription drugs were held while I quickly scanned over the generics. The shelves were empty for the most part. There were a couple bottles of cough syrup and some antiacids and such, but nothing special. Still, something was better than nothing, I suppose. I stuffed them in my pack and met Ishmael back at the entrance. His luck wasn't much better.
"Someone was here before. Most of the drugs are gone, and that means the food is probably pretty scarce too. We should probably check-" I was cut off by a howling screech from somewhere deeper in the store. It was a sound the undead typically made. Somwhere in the store, something large and made of metal crashed to the floor, provoking more howls. Sometimes, it really sucked when I was right. On the up side, mabey whoever entered the store before us was killed before they could make away with all the food. One thing was certain, however. We would probably need more than four to hold back the number of undead that only I could hear.
-
Tacca Chantrieri
OOC: Matt - Noon? Tacca is a vampire, she wouldn't have travelled in bright daylight. At least I tried to get across she was travelling at night.
IC: I swore heavily inside my mind. A sound out of the familiar had caught my attention and I had reacted, silenced him so that he could not call out, before I had been able to think. He came at me and this time I swore outloud. I should have sensed him, caught his scent. To my surprise it was not for me he had sprung out to get, but Ted. I lept out of the way and up at the roof of the tractor, aiming my gun at him just as he turned to face me. To shout at me.
"Shut the f-ing up!" I barked back at him loud enough for him to hear me over his own shouting, while thinking of what Ted had been about to tell me. I hope it wasn't anything of importance, but rambling of a man who knows he was about to die. "Do you want every single creature out there knowing where we are?" I continued in a more hushed voice.
A Lycan, I thought as I looked at him. Animals, all of them, reacting to their animalistic traits, letting their emotions rule without reasoning. Luck must be mocking me to throw a Lycan at me, killing dear Teddy ahead of time. I really did hope that what he was about to tell me had no significance at all.
"His name was Ted Dokes and now he is no more," I replied when he finally had fallen in silence. He seemed to have gotten the idea, that he had a gun aimed at his head and that it was futile to keep yelling at me. "Let us part ways here and I will leave you breathing still."
Outside I could hear the familiar feet pattern of the dead. They must have heard him, figuring he would become a nice snack. I couldn't quite make out how many they were though.
"You have two seconds to make up your mind."
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OOC: Rensha, don’t be smug about your Catholic knowledge. I’ve never been religious, and therefore remarkably unknowledgeable about these kinds of things. Besides. I google everything.
Vagrant. I haven't done anything with L. on Ishmael's end as I haven't quite figured out what to do with him. I'm not deliberately excluding him, as I would be glad for however you would like to include him.
Shari, sorry for the delay. It's kind difficult to come up with 2 page posts for both of my characters on any given day. I shall have something for Ishmael and co shortly.
- Alice
Being around the man in the coat reminded me of things. First, there was a sense of nostalgia, unbidden like a delicate sweet scent barely covered by the smell of rot upon the monsters that surrounded. Secondly, it was his masked profile, covered in bandages that cast a sense of wonder, horror, and familiarity all at the same time into me. It wasn’t merely his face, but his arms, his legs, his torso that I could only make out in the dim light.
He said that he had need of me, his voice cold and bitter and rough all around the edges. It was an archaic way of speaking, I immediately thought and although his voice wasn’t familiar, there was something about the way he said things that most certainly was.
I thought I knew this man.
Still, it might’ve just been his effect on me. Something about his powers reminded me of the girl. Jessica. He was slouched, his long darkly bandaged arms stuck out of his tan coat like pillars. Standing there with him, I was certain for a moment that I lost sense of where I was. All of a sudden, I couldn’t see the ring of creatures, but rather a plain field in daylight.
I need you here, the man in the coat whispered, his gravelly voice making his own illusion distort and bend around the edges. Even in my reverie, I asked the right question: where was here?
It was a stadium, out in Arizona. An abandoned one. A great enormous nest for the monsters. Yet, it was important. It hid something that the man in the coat could not retrieve.
I nearly scoffed. What was this? Mysterious old man needing some item to be retrieved? This sounded like a plot from a bad movie. This kind of standoff was particularly usual. He held the upper-hand of course, and I, somehow the hero of this demented story, would need to save the people and outsmart the man.
The problem was he didn’t know me. He didn’t know I felt no real affinity for the people back there and even as I said no and he threatened to wipe them all out with a wave of one his pillar arms, I felt no fear. Not even the slightest apprehension. Still, something in me made me say yes, that I would do for him this favor.
He nodded, smiled through his bandages and turned, his monsters following him in a line. We exchanged no phone numbers. I had no idea how to contact him. He merely expected me to fulfill this task. Like he was God. Like I had been anointed. The only thing I really felt was pissed off.
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- Alice
As I walked back, I thought of my mother. She was a tall, beautiful, blond aristocratic woman who wanted the best for me in a way that superceded all my own desires. I didn’t resemble her at all, her botox killed off all of the familiy resemblance in her face.
We were rich, Manhattan elite, except the only real decision I ever made was to abscond all that. I ran away from Yale, shortly after the debutante ball my junior year. The ball was extraordinary though. My mother’s connections practically handed me the position of an escort, matching me up with a delightful young woman named Stella de Triomphe, the daughter of some rich French venture capitalist. Personally, I never thought the French had the balls to do that kind of business.
Stella, however, wasn’t quite who I thought she would be. At the ball, she was polite, attentive and appreciative of my company. The typical debutante, skilled in mannerisms and demeanor, speech and apparently had a whole list of achievements.
It was all a lie.
After the ball, she called me that same night saying that she had ditched the parents to go club hopping and asked if I wanted to join her. I was at a hotel for the night, and at the time, I was sort of dating a girl who had more piercings than skin at Yale, but I agreed to meet up with her. We got drunk. Danced wildly and she took me back to her place.
Where she bit me and turned me into a vampire. It was better than sex.
I disappeared that night, not returning back to my studies, though I had always been a night owl of sorts. I stayed with Stella, who introduced me to her family, a practical coven that shed identities like snakeskin. Most of them welcomed me, including her father who turned out to not be French, but actually old-school Roman. A man who went by the name of Milo.
They weren’t blood-related in the typical sense, but they shared the same blood, the same fortunes made with eternity on their side. It was all very Anne Rice, I thought and despite the training my mother had given me, I felt out of place. Stella had fallen in love with me, hence the whole transformation thing, but I was frightened of her. There was a look that came into her eyes when we made love that made me want to run away.
So eventually I did. I got back in touch with my mother, who of course, filled the phone line with insults and curses at my being an ungrateful son. It was hardly the sort of moment to be honest about my situation. I also thought that they would hunt her down if I told her the truth, but nothing happened. I disappeared out of Stella’s life and restarted my own. I went back to college after my mother donated a hefty amount to cover up my absence, but I disappeared again only a week back into classes.
And then I realized why I was thinking about this. The man in the coat reminded me excruciatingly of Milo, who always complained that he would forever be stuck in the afterlife with a slouch. He always smiled as he said it, clapping me on my back. It was generally uncharacteristic of the man. He was a strange sort, enjoyed wearing spectacles even though his vampire eyes would never need them. He dressed like a professor preferring tweed coats and sweater-vests. Still, no one in the family ever doubted his authority or his power. He never had to scream an order, but his shrewd criticisms still cut to the bone. Stella, being a younger vampire, often bore the scars.
Still, there was no reason, no rational possibility that the bandaged man had been Milo. Milo’s voice used to be pompous, and delicate rather than raspy and threatening.
I walked back into the bunker and told them what was up. I had offered up some relatively undefined services so that our little fort might be spared. There were protests of course, mostly along the lines of “He could be lying!” To which, I responded that we didn’t really have much of a choice.
I caught Jessica’s eye. Maybe we had a choice, but I wasn’t going to gamble on it. Besides, if the man really was Milo, then he likely had certain answers I was looking for. He was the escape I was looking for.
I told them that I would be forming an expedition to help carry out my promise. I told them the truth. That it would be dangerous, unrewarding, and infinitely difficult. I wasn’t sure why I asked anyone to come along as it was likely safer for everyone if I did the whole thing on my own. Still, I cried for aides. People to help my journey.
I gave Jessica another glance out of the corner of my eye and I realized why I was doing this. I was sparing these people of her. She had to come along the trip.
-
OOC: My apologies, I meant to add 'when I started' to the around noon time comment.
Spot reserved for revamped post. My last one here was extremely loose based and I've hatched a better idea for my character to embark on, once I get back in a few hours I'll set him off on that quest.
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Jessica
I mustered all the strength I had left to stare back at Alice. I could feel my legs threatening to collapse out from under me. My fingers ached, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I could not let that happen. I must stand tall to those around me. I had to prove I was strong enough. I was not really sure I was. For as long as I can remember, I was an independent soul. I never let any one else tell me who I was; but the real fact was that not even I knew who I was. Even before this whole mess began I searched. I searched for something to claim as my own, that was uniquely mine. Stubbornness did not count.
To tell the truth I had little faith in Mankind. We were all selfish, greedy, and stupid creatures. We could not be trusted with anything, and always seemed to f**k things up. Knowing these things I never truly fit in. I wished to shy away from the world as I knew it. I would have given anything to run away and never have to deal with another idiotic human again. I thought that would never change. How wrong I was.
As I watched Alice turn away from me, with an expression I could not read, I realized that the tingling in my fingers continued. However, the feeling was much different than that of the unfortunate souls that had fallen victim to the infection. There was something different about Alice that I had not put my finger on until that very moment. Moments before I could feel every last one of those unfortunate souls as they died, and even after they had succumbed to the infection. They all had been dead. Even the ghost had his own lasting impression. Alice was dead, or so my senses were telling me. Internally I fought against it. How could Alice be the living dead? He talked and moved just as any living creature would. My mind wondered to the vile creatures that were now roaming the land. They too seemed impossible. Alice had the strength like a hoard of them. Then there was the person the ghost had spoken about. It was not possible for some one to be the cause of such a vile infection. I shook my head and remembered what I had created with my own fingers. Everything that was happening seemed to be the impossible. Everything that we as a species have been taught was being ripped apart like the infected on fresh meat.
A few moments later I was alone, and I nearly did collapse. I slumped over and staggered my way from the court yard. I had to find a place to hide for a while. I feared what was happening, not only to the world, but what was happening to me. Reality had become darker than it had ever been before. Drowning in my own thoughts I started back toward the sleeping area. I didn’t want to go back to my cot, but I thought perhaps I could find an empty bunker.
My attempts to be alone failed. Before I could even get past the sleeping area, I was confronted by Embrey. I smiled weakly at him; I hoped that he would just keep on walking. He didn’t. It was a brave thing to do, but he reached out and touched my shoulder. It was a timid tough, but a touch none the less.
“I am terribly sorry, but I would not be alone I were you” He said. I wasn’t sure if he was looking at my stomach or my breasts.
“And why not?” I nearly growled.
“There is trouble brewing. Alice has set every one on watch. I think it would be wise if we stayed in a group. Don’t want to b caught alone. You can come with me if you wish” His eyes finally met mine. He was easy to read. There was a mixture of fear and even excitement in his eyes.
“Alright,” I said with a heavy sigh. This was totally against my better judgment.
----------------
As if things were not bad enough, I felt two more members of this already small team die. I could feel it at the very fiber of my being seconds before the first body fell from the guard tower. I screamed and hid behind the only thing I could. I was exhausted, and for a while I forgot that I wanted to be strong. I gripped the back of Embrey’s shirt hiding my face between his shoulder blades. I didn’t dare look up. Not that it would matter. I would feel the infestation long before I would see it. If Embrey minded my touching him, he said nothing.
Moments passed, and so did the feeling. What ever it was that every one was waiting for was too far away for me to sense. That scared me more than anything else. Fighting my fear I looked up from behind Embrey’s shoulder. I felt Alice way up in the guard tower, and I lifted my head to see him. It was then that Embrey stepped away from me. I whimpered in disappointment.
“It is ok.” He said as he turned to me for only a moment. Easy for him to say. I clenched my hands into fits. Damn it. I am strong, I lied to myself. I lifted my chin and nodded to him. He walked away and toward the bottom of the guard tower Alice was in.
When Alice finally came down, he spoke with Embrey. Their exchange of words was quick and to the point, or that is how it seemed since I had no idea what they were saying. Alice went toward the guns and Embrey quickly followed. They exchanged some more words and Alice whispered into Embrey’s ear. Embrey nodded.
With out another word Alice left. I nearly gasped as he walked right out the front gate. What on earth did he think he was doing? I wanted to yell at him to stay here, but deep down I knew that he had to go. He was the only one who could go. I quickly glanced back over to Embrey who was now ascending a guard tower. I had not a clue as to what was going on. Did I really want to know? Not really. I bit my lip and just waited.
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It seemed like forever before Alice finally returned, and I wasn’t the only one on edge. Alice told us what happened and that he would be leaving the group. There were protests of course. These people did want the only thing, person, keeping them safe to leave. I didn’t know what I thought. It all seemed to happen so fast.
Then I noticed Alice kept glancing at me, when he proposition for people to aid him. He said it would be dangerous and unrewarding. Not something I normally would join in on. However, I looked around eye every one in the crowd. Not a single one of them cared about me. All their eyes and thoughts were on Alice. All they thought about was keeping them selves alive. I glance back at Alice and our eyes meet. That happened a lot. My fingers tingled with his unique signature. I could see in his eyes that he wanted me to follow. I did not think I could do so with out knowing exactly what he was. Oh, I knew he was not a threat to me. Some how I knew. He was dangerous that was for sure, but not to me.
As we looked at each other, I nodded. Before we left I would ask. I would find out exactly what he was before I was left to left defend and depend on him. I bit my lip, then I said, “I will go with you”