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Thread: Desolé

  1. #16
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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.

  2. #17
    Post Fiend Shari Tana's Avatar
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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?
    "I am the brightest light, for I am darkness. I know everything, for I know nothing. I am a container, brimming with emotion, for I am empty."
    --Bebedora, Arc the Lad

    "Intelligence is the key, and she is locked out." - Josh Sneed, in reference to his ex.

  3. #18
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    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.
    Last edited by SoHee; 24-12-2008 at 21:02.

  4. #19
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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.
    Last edited by LordKain; 07-01-2009 at 18:53.

  5. #20
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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.

  6. #21
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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.

  7. #22
    Post Fiend Shari Tana's Avatar
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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.
    "I am the brightest light, for I am darkness. I know everything, for I know nothing. I am a container, brimming with emotion, for I am empty."
    --Bebedora, Arc the Lad

    "Intelligence is the key, and she is locked out." - Josh Sneed, in reference to his ex.

  8. #23
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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.

  9. #24
    Post Fiend Wildfire's Avatar
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    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.

  10. #25
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    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.
    Last edited by Vagrant; 31-12-2008 at 06:44.

  11. #26
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    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!”

  12. #27
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    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.
    "I am the brightest light, for I am darkness. I know everything, for I know nothing. I am a container, brimming with emotion, for I am empty."
    --Bebedora, Arc the Lad

    "Intelligence is the key, and she is locked out." - Josh Sneed, in reference to his ex.

  13. #28
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    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.
    Last edited by LordKain; 07-01-2009 at 18:54.

  14. #29
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    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.

  15. #30
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    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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