██████ The Summary Your characters are being set in a small, modern-day city. It is one of many that has been affected by an unidentified virus. Within a matter of days after contracting it, the infected, who now resemble walking corpses, have begun to attack other human beings. Your characters are in for a surprise as the lives they lead are about to be obliterated, whether they find out via radio, television, or personal experience. What will they do when 'people' start eating other people? Will they crumble under the pressure of having to kill another, possibly even a child? How will they find food, water, and other necessities when the city is overrun with the undead? Will they be willing to trust others in order to get through this ordeal? Will they even survive?
██████ The Disease The virus is contractible via saliva and blood. Get either into an open wound, and once it's in your bloodstream there is only one way to get it out. If you can't amputate that limb in time, you will turn into one of them.
██████ The Symptoms Even once you're bitten, not everyone turns right away. Sometimes the process is slow and painful. Now keep in mind those listed below are only the standard symptoms in general chronologic order. Some people experience some of the ailments earlier or later than others. For example, one may fall into psychosis quicker than their skin deteriorates, leaving them with the appearance of a human and the melted brain of a cannibalistic creature. On the other hand, you could have somebody who is nearly sane but has the appearance of a walking corpse. This sort of thing is rare, but it does happen. Now;
First, your blood begins to thin. The smallest of cuts are difficult to stop bleeding and you'll begin to experience small bruise-like blotches on your skin. At first they're quite easy to hide, depending on where they are located. Some infected may experience coughing upon first catching the disease and it gets more violent as it progresses throughout the victim's system.
Second, you begin to have mood swings and the bruises grow. Throughout this stage and the rest you may at some point experience bleeding out the nose, eyes, mouth, and/or ears.
Third, Around this time most begin experiencing paranoia or hallucinations, sometimes both. By now the bruises are large and dark, joined by sores and blisters, and you may have also noticed abdominal or cranial pains. These are signs that you're bleeding internally and your organs are beginning to fail and spoil.
Fourth, Your skin deteriorates around the sores and putrifies. Your paranoia has developed into periods of full-fledged psychosis. If you’ve not developed into a typical “zombie” by now, you don’t have long. Your body won't be able to function as it should in a matter of time.
Posted: Mon Aug 06, 2012 11:52 pm
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1: People will die. When you apply for this roleplay, do so using at least two characters.
2: You are not allowed to kill other peoples’ characters unless you’ve already gotten their permission.
3: No god-modding, no power playing, and please don’t be rude in the OOC.
4: Please be able to write at least a proper paragraph or two. You’ll have more than one character so this should be relatively easy. Don’t go writing a novel though, as not all of our RP partners want to read such lengthy posts.
5: If you’re thinking of dropping the roleplay, do me a favor and let me know; via PM or the OOC thread. Whichever is fine. This way I’ll be prepared and we can either find somebody who’d like to take over for you, or we can go ahead and kill your characters off.
6: Let’s keep things PG-16. Relatively. I mean, it’s gonna get bloody and perhaps a little violent, but we don’t need people getting sick over this. Also, romance is of course encouraged, but skip once clothes start coming off.
7: Please be active and let us all know if you’ll be gone for a lengthy amount of time. We don’t need anyone MIA ;o
8: Try and decortate your posts. A little picture and some (not hard to read) color isn’t too much to ask, is it? Just please don’t have any page stretchers.
9: Send me your first two or three profiles in a single message titled these highlighted words:
Hope I Don’t Get Eaten.
You’ll be allowed more characters later on as some die, but the limit at all times is three. I may change it if some people want to play four, ect.
10:That’s all for now. Remember that I have the right to add and remove these as I see fit, as I think it goes without saying that I am in charge here.
PuellaSumDei
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PuellaSumDei
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Posted: Mon Aug 06, 2012 11:54 pm
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Send me this, labeled as you were directed in the Rules. Some of the fields don’t need to be descriptive because you can unveil and explain them throughout the RP.
[color=dimgray]I am[b] insert username [/b] and I control the following characters:[/color] [b]------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/b] [size=18][b] [color=olive]¤[/color][/b][/size][color=dimgray] Name:[b] Character’s name [/b][/color]
[size=18][b] [color=darkred]¤[/color][/b][/size][color=dimgray] Age:[b] Not much of a limit here. 5 at the youngest, 40’s-50’s at their oldest. [/b][/color]
[size=18][b] [color=olive]¤ [/color][/b][/size][color=dimgray]Gender:[b] Male or female [/b][/color]
[b][size=18] [color=darkred]¤[/color][/size][/b][color=dimgray] Occupation:[b] Their job before the incident. If none, say if they were a student/unemployed/ect.[/b][/color]
[size=18] [b][color=olive]¤[/color][/b][/size][color=dimgray] Personality:[b] Doesn’t have to be long. [/b][/color]
[size=18][b] [color=darkred]¤[/color][/b][/size][color=dimgray] Strengths:[b] Pick a few, if any. It can be something they use during their job, a skill developed in a sport, ect. [/b][/color]
[b] [size=18][color=olive]¤[/color][/size][/b][color=dimgray] Weaknesses:[b]Have to have at least one. Fears, anything they aren’t good at, ect.[/b][/color]
[size=18][b][color=darkred]¤ [/color][/b][/size] [color=dimgray]Biography:[b] Optional as long as you reveal it in the RP. A sentence or two would still be appreciated here, though.[/b][/color]
[b][size=18][color=olive]¤ [/color][/size][/b] [color=dimgray]Appearance:[b]A link or decent written description will suffice if you can’t find a suitable picture.[/b][/color]
[size=18][b] [color=darkred]¤[/color][/b][/size][color=dimgray]Other:[b] Anymore information you'd like to add such as sexuality, certain likes and dislikes, ect.[/b][/color]
I am Luna_Lonewolf and I control the following characters: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ¤ Name: Larai Dalson
¤ Age: 17
¤ Gender: Female
¤ Occupation: Student; worked at the local bookstore.
¤ Personality: She doesn’t like being looked down upon or underestimated, and finds it hard to trust somebody, specifically people that order her around. Just because you say you’re in charge doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing. Very outspoken and likes to think she can take on the world and fend for herself.
¤ Strengths: She was on her school’s track team. Speed is her ally.
¤ Weaknesses:Her trust and obedience issues, but when you don’t know what to do you don’t have a choice.
¤ Biography: She's a pretty normal young lady. Larai lives with her over-controlling mother, whose attitude drove the girl to find any directions rather irritating. She likes to work at the bookstore because it's peaceful and quiet.
¤ Appearance: Larai stands at around 5'5 with dirty-blonde hair hanging around shoulder length. Her eyes are light brown and she's Caucasian, not pale and not tan either. She usually wears plain, comfortable clothes to fit her modest hourglass figure. Nothing's too small/flat, or too big/curvy.
¤Other: She likes to read and jog with her headphones in, which is a given, and she likes big dogs. They own a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog named Caine.
¤ Occupation:Helps out at the shooting range and sometimes teaches classes.
¤ Personality: He’s very protective. Around strangers he’s usually stoic and a bit removed, but even when he gives the cold shoulder he’s considerate.
¤ Strengths: The guy can very obviously use a gun.
¤ Weaknesses:His fiancé, and any kids.
¤ Biography: He's engaged to a sweet woman named Audrey. His life was relatively normal, with a younger brother living in another town somewhere with their parents.
¤ Appearance: He's got black hair and green eyes. x
¤ Personality: maternal instinct and doesn’t like conflict. She’s very sweet and kind.
¤ Strengths: Give the woman a first aid kit, she knows how to use it!
¤ Weaknesses:Children, conflict, violence. She can only handle so much.
¤ Biography: Going to be married to a man named Ethan. She was raised in what could be considered a sheltered home she she wasn't used to much of the rowdiness of typical young adult life. However, it's also part of the reason why she's so honey-sweet and has such a tender heart.
¤ Appearance: She's got a willowy figure, auburn hair, and blue eyes. x
I am T_trees_T and I control the following characters: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ¤ Name: Alicia Hale
¤ Age: 20 years old
¤ Gender: Female
¤ Occupation: Student; worked at an ice cream store
¤ Personality: She's smart and resourceful. She's confrontational and fights firmly for what she believes in. However, she gets easily discouraged and gives up quickly, and it takes a lot to bring her back up.
¤ Strengths: She's resourceful, and won't stand there like a blathering idiot in tense situations. She was on the school's swim team and fencing team.
¤ Weaknesses: She can be somewhat controlling, and doesn't know when to back down. Gives up easily, and loves her brother dearly.
¤ Biography: Alicia grew up in a normal, middle class family with her parents and her younger brother. She strove to be the best in many things. She was the president in her high school student council, and the captain of the swim team.
¤ Appearance: Alicia is tall and willowy, standing at a proud 5'6". Though not muscular, she's pretty toned, with even olive-colored skin. She has long, silky black hair and startling gray-green eyes.
¤Other: She's overly protective of her brother, Elijah. And she has a soft spot for cats.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ¤ Name: Elijah Hale
¤ Age: 14 years old
¤ Gender: Male
¤ Occupation: Student
¤ Personality: Elijah is your typical skater dude. Pretty average in his studies, not so great of a conversationalist, and takes things way too lightly.
¤ Strengths: He's pretty athletic, skilled at skateboarding (of course), and knows how to pick locks.
¤ Weaknesses: He doesn't process things too quickly, and he gets surprised or confused too often. He also has slow reflexes.
¤ Biography: Elijah grew up in a normal middle class family in his sister's shadow. Elijah had long since quit trying to live up to his sister's greatness, and instead lives life to the fullest, doing whatever the hell he wants to do.
¤ Appearance:Elijah is around 5'3", but appears 5'2" because he slouches so much. He has longish, inky black hair with bangs that fall over his forehead and his gray-green eyes, and he always has an impish smile on his face.
I am Whitewingtip and I control the following characters: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ¤ Name: Nate Wellington (aka Colonel Gloom)
¤ Age: 28
¤ Gender: Male
¤ Occupation: His day job was working for his father's company as a businessman and consultant; by night he was a masked vigilante bringing justice into the world.
¤ Personality: He's a fairly cold individual on the outside, and it is very rare when he lets anyone close to him. Gloom literally thinks that most people are really really stupid, like children, and because of that, he admires those who seem to actually have a brain in their heads. He's quite cynical about most things, though he puts up quite a good front if you meet him without the mask. He can feign emotions like an absolute pro, which makes him a bit dangerous. He feels the most comfortable in his own skin when he wears his white gas-mask, though.
¤ Strengths: He's a very good liar, good at feigning emotions and has excellent business sense (not like that bit matters now). He has good aim with handguns and a fair supply of ammunition as well as a stocked supply of gasses he uses to ward of attackers.
¤ Weaknesses: He cares about Justice as if they were his own blood, and if Justice were threatened/kidnapped/messed with, then Gloom would have a very tough time dealing with it.
¤ Biography: He was born into one of the wealthiest families in America, and his schooling was top-notch. He entered into the family business when he got out of university at the top of his class, but he actually cares little for business. He puts up with his forced occupation because his family expects him to.
He became a Hero at the age of 19 when he actually figured out that the world was a dark, horrible place. He does resent the rich to a certain point, even though he is among the privileged, because he sees the poor and in need everyday when he is marauding as his masked alter-ego.
Gloom picked up his first sidekick after most likely saving his life less than a year ago, but he still is asking himself why he felt so compelled to help the young man. He did his own research on his sidekick and found out just how much this kid was supposed to be messed up... but found that Masked Justice was one of the only really normal people he knew. Justice had been frightened and sheepish when he'd met him, but has since transformed, and though Gloom will never say it; he really hopes that Justice will become one of the best and professional vigilantes because of his own mentor-ship. Besides, the world has ended anyway, and he would rather have Justice in charge than chaos.
¤ Appearance:Costume is a neatly pressed business suit with a black and grey striped tie with a white gas mask. Combat boots and a bullet-proof vest underneath his suit shirt. He carries a small hidden hand-gun, and a belt equipped with sleeping-gas, laughing-gas, smoke bombs and tear-gas.
Regular wear is a light blue dress shirt, black expensive suit and black dress shoes; no tie. Short blonde spiked hair and a short well-kept beard. He has hazel coloured eyes. Masked Unmasked
¤Other: He's gay, but has no sexual interest in his sidekick what-so-ever. He doesn't think that relationships in the "workplace" are merited, and is very rigid about that philosophy. His sidekick often jokes that he is "asexual."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ¤ Name: Hannis Walter Kanes (aka "Masked Justice")
¤ Age: 17
¤ Gender: Male
¤ Occupation: Actually, he ran around as a masked vigilante for a good long while, and basically his job description was "sidekick" at the time.
¤ Personality: He's actually fairly confident in his abilities and tends to have a bit of an ego if complimented too much. He is very unlike Gloom in the fact that he talks perhaps way too much and tends to put himself in vulnerable positions; both emotionally and physically.
¤ Strengths: He has an incredible tolerance to pain and is a very likeable personality. He's good at getting on good terms with people, generally.
¤ Weaknesses:He gets used to drugs and medication very quickly, and they end up having little effect on his body. He is afraid that he will die alone and has a habit of getting himself into compromising situations.
¤ Biography: He was orphaned at an early age, and was passed from foster home to foster home as is the norm before he started to get interested in Superheroes. His first attempt to be a superhero was when he was fourteen, but he got himself beaten pretty badly and was taken to hospital. That didn't deter his efforts, but he was eventually diagnosed with some sort of disorder he couldn't pronounce and was put under theraputic care in the hospital. Even on heavy medication he thought that he was meant for so much more than just being what society thought of him.
One night, less than a year ago, Justice escaped from the hospital and stole some clothing in order to just get by. He felt horrible about it, and while stumbling through the darkened streets a gang of guys decided to rough the thin boy up to show how tough they were, but the beating was interrupted by Colonel Gloom and the masked man in a suit got the gang to leave with a handgun he possessed.
Once Justice had recovered his breath, he followed the strange masked man and after a long while of nagging and shameless begging, Gloom agreed to see what kind of merit Justice could bring to crime fighting. Gloom settled Justice into the spare room of his apartment once the kid proved himself to be trustworthy and learned more about him. He's been fighting alongside the strange masked man full-time for the past six months now, and was with him when the zombie epidemic took effect.
¤ Appearance: Spiked auburn-brown hair, blue eyes and a lip ring are the most defining features of Justice. When he is not costumed, he wears thick-rimmed glasses, t-shirts and skinny jeans, as well as various coloured arm-bands.
Costumed, he wears a black sparkling mask, dark t-shirts with a bullet-proof vest under it (which he received from "his" hero), and black yoga pants that are comfortable and easy to move around in. Sometimes he will absolutely bedazzle himself with adornments like scarves and generally shiny objects, but when stealth is the goal of their mission, he looses all of that and dresses plainly as described before. He also has red goggles that he wears around his neck and an air ventilator as well for when Gloom uses his noxious gasses. Linkage!
I am SilentShadowDreamer and I control the following characters: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ¤ Name: Darcy Johanna Clellan
¤ Age: Thirty-four, turning thirty-five in a few weeks.
¤ Gender: Female
¤ Occupation: Darcy used to manage a small gardening business. It was a natural thing for her, as a farmer’s daughter.
¤ Personality: She’s calm, easygoing and has a generous heart paired with a tough mind. Her friends have been known to refer to her as Old Reliable.
¤ Strengths: Darcy has a bit of medical knowledge due to her upbringing – granted, it mostly applies to animals, but any port in a storm. She knows plants inside and out; edible, medicinal, poisonous, neutral, her lifetime with the outdoors has brought her into contact with them all. She owns an old bolt-action rifle that she’s handled since she was a little girl, but it’s been several years since she last used it.
¤ Weaknesses: She is exceedingly trusting; people get into her heart easily, and once they’re there, she’s not going to be able to lift a finger to save herself if something goes wrong. She also has a weak left arm that’s never been the same since a horse kick years ago hit a nerve bundle. In a high-stress situation where snap decisions are key, she’s more likely to shoot than run – short little legs mean her running is really not her biggest strength.
¤ Biography: Darcy was born and raised a farm girl out in the country, handling animals, plants and the passing seasons with her usual aplomb. She has two siblings, an older brother and a younger sister, but she was the only one who went away to college. Though it took her a long time to find a place to settle in the city, she eventually found her place with a little gardening store.
Upon hiring on there at age twenty-six, she met Robert. They became friends, then lovers, and eventually moved in together. Though they lived together for six years, they never married; neither felt the need. When the time was right, Darcy had thought, she would know. Her relationship was blooming, and she was steadily rising in her position at the gardening store.
Robert’s death earlier in the year due to catastrophic heart attack came as a total shock to Darcy; he’d been a strong, healthy man who, as the saying goes, “never had a day’s illness in his life.” Only a couple of months have passed since Robert’s death, and Darcy is still lost in a number of ways. Her grief runs very deep, but she’s begun to pull herself together, because now more than ever she cannot afford to sink into depression.
¤ Appearance: Darcy’s beauty is all on the inside; outside, she is plain as plain can be. Not ugly, but not beautiful either, she’s not really the type to catch the eye. She has light-brown skin with the wrinkles and marks that come along with thirty-four years of a hard, outdoorsy life and long, straight mousy-brown hair that she usually keeps tied up in a ballerina bun on top of her head, leaving her long bangs to fall in her eyes. Her eyes are her only real exceptional feature: they’re large, almond-shaped and very, very dark with long, light-brown lashes. She also tends to stand very straight, because she’s only about 4’10” and needs to stand straight if she wants people to see her.
¤Other: Darcy hasn’t been feeling too well in the mornings lately, but she’s been trying to ignore it because she’s so desperately afraid of what it might mean. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ¤ Name: Ryan Joseph Lawson
¤ Age: Twenty-four
¤ Gender: Male
¤ Occupation: Had just graduated university with his undergraduate degree; he worked part-time as a carpenter’s assistant.
¤ Personality: Ryan is a bright, personable sort of guy who also tends to be sarcastic and a bit too liberal with the sharp side of his tongue. Being a very realistic sort, he only believes in what his senses can show him and isn’t much of one for theory.
¤ Strengths: He’s clever with his hands, meaning he can fix up most anything given time and maybe a few scrounged parts. Besides that, he’s always been very strong and quite fast.
¤ Weaknesses: Ryan is the sort of guy who doesn’t think as long-term as he should, and it often gets him in trouble down the line. His tendency to react before thinking also gets him into trouble more often than not, and he is a complete emotional doofus; he doesn’t know how to read people.
¤ Biography: Ryan’s been a city boy as long as he can remember. Born the only child of parents who wanted more, he was thoroughly spoiled as a little boy, but somehow managed to turn out all right despite that. He tends to credit his teachers rather than his parents; they were the only ones who handed out any discipline at all.
Growing up, he’d always had a fascination for taking things apart and then putting them back together, sometimes in a different way in order to learn if they would still work. When he went away to school, he took the job as a carpenter’s helper mostly for convenience (in other words, it paid well). But he quickly found that he really enjoyed it, and that he had a hand for it; he was actually considering going into an apprenticeship when the world went to hell.
He still thinks about it sometimes, because he needs the dreams and the hope that maybe things will be all right again someday.
¤ Appearance: Tall, dark-skinned and lean with a lighthearted smile and even features, Ryan could be and often is described as attractive. He has choppy dark-brown hair that tends to fall in his face and steady grey eyes that can sometimes nearly be called piercing; when Ryan is at last completely serious, he looks almost intimidating. His clothing is basic – long-sleeve shirts, jeans, sneakers and a jacket are essentially his uniform, varying mostly in colour.
¤Other: Ryan tends to go by Ry instead of his full name. Though he is bisexual, he doesn’t really talk about it, and only those who know him best know it.
I amLovetoCauseMayhem and I control the following characters: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ¤ Name: Liliha Gray
¤ Age: Twelve
¤ Gender:Female
¤ Occupation: She's only a student, but she's exceptionally smart. She plays video games and is not the average teenager (as you can probably tell)
¤ Personality: She is crazy intelligent and wickedly bright. She's not afraid to get dirty and she's seen a lot more horror movies than most parents would be comfortable with. But she has a good heart, and her dad knows it.
¤ Strengths: She can be very violent when necessary, but she's always in control of herself no matter what the situation. She's incredibly resourceful and thinks incredibly logically.
¤ Weaknesses:Being so logical, she doesn't really understand social needs. Well, she understands it, but she just doesn't care about putting it to work. She speaks very plainly, and understands feelings and emotions, but doesn't really care about them. The only person she cares about is her father. Everyone else can go rot.
¤ Biography: Being twelve, she doesn't have much of a bio. But she's as prepared as anyone for this particular chaos. Probably even more so.
¤ Occupation: You could call him a 'priest'. Or a exiled priest. Now he is simply a weapon.
¤ Personality: He is serious a large majority of the time. Only his daughter can see him smile, and around her he seems like a totally different person.
¤ Strengths: He is very attune to hands-on weapons. It's always been a sort of hobby for him, and when his church found out... well, it wasn't exactly pretty.
¤ Weaknesses:He doesn't take failure very well. Because of this, he tends to withdraw into himself, and he becomes incredibly defensive when addressed about it.
¤ Biography: Because of an incident that happened to his daughter when she was six, Abraham started picking up weapons like daggers, machetes, and even guns in order to protect her. When the church found out... he was exiled, and only the recent apocalypse will pull him out of the bottle he's crawled into.
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Posted: Tue Aug 07, 2012 12:13 am
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PuellaSumDei
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PuellaSumDei
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Posted: Tue Aug 07, 2012 12:14 am
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Posted: Mon Aug 13, 2012 8:31 pm
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██████ It's Time!
The header is a bit anticlimactic. 8D !!! Oh, by the way, remember that rule about not posting novels? Your first post is allowed to be as long as you want. It's the introduction to our entire roleplay; if you've got the words in you, write 'em biggrin
Bookshelves were lined up neatly, an aisle leading clear through the store from the entrance to the seating area in the back with it's pillows, chairs and end tables. Inside the cozy place it smelled of the many books and the glue that bound their pages together. At the counter sat a cash register and a small, old-fashioned radio that played whatever the current clerk wanted to hear. Behind the wooden surface was one of many windows that filtered sunshine into the quaint store, and a girl sat on the bay window just underneath it in the pool of warm light. It wasn't too hot this time of year, which was good. When it got to be summertime it got stuffy in the small bookstore and the window seat wasn't nearly as comfortable.
Said green-eyed young woman had a novel in her hands, flipping pages as her eyes scanned the words rapidly. She'd always loved to read, hence the job. Currently though, they weren't getting much business which was why she was taking it easy. The place was barren. There had been few visitors throughout the day and only one or two had actually bought something. Ah well, more time for the girl to enjoy her literature. The radio was presently on something soft and non-distracting; an indie band she hadn't caught the name of. Once the music switched to something more lively Larai stretched out a hand and turned the dial towards the local news station. "Off the corner of Landon Avenue a couple was recently reported murdered, both dead and mangled on the kitchen floor. Screams were reported earlier just before the cops arrived to find the bodies. Their windows were smashed in, no telling who did it. Neighbors are saying the pair was pleasant; no leads as to motive or premeditation. Appears spur of the moment. Some already looking to rule it as a robbery although there doesn't seem to be anything missing from the household."
The young woman brushed a strand of dirty-blonde hair from her face, appearing quizzical. She turned the volume notch down a bit as the topic was changed to local sports. "How odd." She murmured offhandedly, flipping another page when the woman on the radio seemed to change subject yet again. "Another recent murder to report, this one in the College Park vicinity. A few girls just called in a few minutes ago about a house with a splintered, bloody door. Cops arrived just moments ago and again, the bodies inside were mangled. It looks as if perhaps-" The reporter was heard mumbling to another person, somebody speaking gruffly. Probably a police officer. The woman's words came out of the speaker once more. "I was just told that these people were perhaps, I'm sorry, were perhaps eaten?"it sounded as if she was asking the man if he was serious. What an odd circumstance. "Cops aren't quite sure who the culprit is but it does seem to be the same person, or people working together. Again, no motive yet, but-" A few thumps sounded, and the woman murmured, "Is it that hard to turn a knob? God, Jerry? Jer, go open it. Maybe it's one of the interns." It seemed she wasn't aware the radio could still pick up her voice. Sometimes things like this happened when somebody didn't turn their head away from the speaker and they said something, but it wasn't usually something quite so unprofessional. "Ahem, anyways, we were just getting news that-" Glass shattered, wherever the transmission was coming from. Next came a scream so shrill it made Larai flinch. "The hell?" She stared incredulously at the little radio, eyebrows drawn together. "Oh my god, oh my god, what is that?!" Shrieked the woman on the other side. "Jerry, what the ******** is that? WHAT THE ******** IS THAT?!" Despite the already low volume, the blonde was forced to turn it even quieter against the panicking voice. Still, you could still hear the screeching voice of the female reporter. "Good grief, what's going on?" Just as she grumbled those astonished words the bell attached to the front entrance jangled. The sound made the librarian-slash-cashier jump. She was obviously, and with good reason, highly unsettled.
"Pull!" One of the younger boys shouted, shotgun notched into his shoulder. A brilliant orange clay 'bird' sailed through the air at the command. A loud shot sounded and it was obliterated, pottery bits spraying out over the field, which was mostly rocks. "Great job, Timothy," Ethan nodded and turned to the group of young - well, they weren't that young, only their early teens, but they were all short to him. hey had yet to fully hit puberty and were still awaiting that enormous growth spurt to jolt them up a bit when it came to height. "Alright guys, I think that's enough for today. Just go put the guns back in the rack," He pointed to the shed where they housed some of the artillery. "and I think we're done. See you all next week." He clapped, a way of ending his little speeches, and strolled off to the office after making sure the kids had put away everything rather nicely and locking the shed. As all the moms drove away with their kids and left the isolated shooting range behind, the black haired man got himself a cup of water from the machine. it wasn't much really; just one of those paper, triangle-shaped cups that leaked sometimes. It was empty after one gulp. "Now on to the boring stuff..." He grumbled, strolling sluggishly over to his desk. On the way, he looked out the enormous window that gave a generous view of the range and it's rocky, barren borders. It was a ways away from the city for obvious safety reasons. Everything was in order, so he moved along to sit in front of a dinosaur computer. The old thing turned on slowly, and worked even slower. Ethan would be here awhile. After around an hour or so the young man stood and arched his back, stretching from a strenuous time in an uncomfortable chair. It was almost time to go home, where he'd see his beautiful fiance after a long, hot day. He was looking forward to it. Walking back over to the window, he stopped short. "What the...?" Over on the dirt road that lead from the city to the range, as well as through the brush, were stumbling human forms. Two, or maybe three. They were staggering and Ethan's first thought was maybe they were dehydrated hikers. Or something. Still, their mannerisms were disturbing. Eerie. He glanced back at the gun safe that was against the wall and then his hand reflexively reached and padded down the gun at his waist, in it's holster. "Maybe they just...want some water?" He wondered with doubt, jumping as he heard a thud against the door, and then scratching.
“Bye-bye, Miss Audrey!” A little girl frantically waved her pudgy hand in farewell as she was picked up by her mother, much like all the other preschoolers. Once the last of the kids was gone the auburnette woman turned to face the empty class and pulled her wavy hair up into ponytail, blowing a breath out past her lips. “Now onto the other half of the day,” She joked with herself, meaning the work she had to grade. It was an over exaggeration since most of it was artwork and alphabet practice, but Audrey still had to mark down which kids needed more help and which were accelerating. After some time spent ‘grading’ she turned on the small television in the tidy classroom and watched the news. She watched reports of fires and the norm, but then something different came up. A murder here, a murder there and the most recent was a reporter woman, a cop, and an assistant at the local radio station. The news was unusual but Audrey brushed it aside. Instead, she checked out of work and hopped in her petite little car. The teacher was headed for home when somebody ran out into the street, causing her to swerve and nearly crash the car. It came to a screeching halt and she slammed her hands angrily on the wheel. “What kind of an idiot does that!?” The normally calm woman cried, glancing out her mirrors for the almost-victim. There he was, off on the curb. He was slumped over and looked asleep. And…? And bloody? She hadn’t really hit him, had she? Audrey rolled down the window cautiously, and backed up to see the stranger a bit better. “Sir? Hello, Sir? Are you alright?” A low rumble sounded in his throat, followed by a gurgle. He lumbered closer and a repugnant stench filled the woman’s nose. It made her gag. That’s when it lunged. The woman screamed as it collided with the open window and it’s arms scrabbled for purchase, the smell of rotting flesh seeping into the vehicle. Her finger jammed the window button until it nearly broke. It just wouldn’t work fast enough. Audrey hit the pedal with enough force to drive it through the bottom of the car, jerking the vehicle forward so hard her head almost collided with the steering wheel. But it did get the creep off her car, leaving a trail of blood dripping down the window. Panting, the woman dared look back. That man- no, that thing- was lumbering back over. She sped off down the street without looking back, hand fumbling for her phone while she tried steering properly.
Nate Wellington was just getting off work and heading over to one of the apartments he owned, in his white mercedes, when some queer transmissions cut off his usual radio stations and issued some strange tales of walking corpses and people being eaten alive. At first, Nate was going to turn off that horrible racket, but as he switched through radio stations, every single one of them had a similar story and he turned up his radio to listen carefully as he continued to drive. When he was nearly home, a mangled and bloody child wandered onto the road, reaching for his car and crying hysterically. Nate swerved his car to miss the child, but as he passed by, he saw what appeared to be a woman lying face down on the side-walk.
He grit his teeth and phoned the emergency line while he was driving home to make sure that child and the woman got medical attention. Unfortunately, the lines were busy and he was on hold even as he pulled up to the apartment complex. He held the phone up to his ear as he straightened out his suit while getting out of his mercedes and proceeded to walk towards the apartment that served as his side-kick's home. He reported the incident before he got to the door and fumbled with his keys a moment before he got inside. He didn't hear anything in the apartment, and assumed that 'Justice' was having a nap like usual since they "worked" nights.
Nate went to his room, after locking the door behind him, and changed into a cheaper suit with a tie and pulled his ominous white gas mask over his head before he loaded his belt and jacket with various canned gases and his handgun. He carried spare ammunition on the inside of his jacket and only then was he fit to go out of his room and wake his sleeping side-kick. He was no longer Nate, and had become Colonel Gloom with a simple change of attire.
Hannis Walter Kanes (though more commonly known now as 'Masked Justice') was indeed having a nap in his room. The walls were absolutely covered in pictures of men in spandex suits--though most of these were heroes of some sort (super- or otherwise)--or half naked men that were just your average Joes. His shelves were full of comic books, graphic novels, figurines and accessories of various sorts. His closet was filled with costumes of his favourite superheroes and his mirror sat atop his bright dresser; upon which lay all of his make-up and regular crime-fighting accessories that he put on when he went out at night with 'Gloom.'
Justice honestly had no idea who Gloom really was, and had stopped asking months ago. Gloom was certainly a cold personality, but since he was providing everything he could ever desire, he really didn't feel the need to make the vigilante uncomfortable with questions about himself. Justice was quite considerate of others at most times, but he was still young, so his thoughts and actions were a bit rash when you came right down to it, and he generally had the bad habit of not thinking things through.
He stirred in his bed as Gloom opened the door, but he opened his eyes just slightly as Gloom set a careful hand on his shoulder. He could hear the soft rasp of Gloom's breathing through the mask, and to anyone else this moment would have been absolutely terrifying with a man in a creepy white mask waking you from your sleep... but Justice found solace and comfort in the appearance of the mask Gloom wore, and reached out gingerly to touch the fabric by Gloom's cheek as he was woken.
"Mmm... home already?" he asked sleepily as he drew his hand back to rub the sleep out of his eyes and yawn widely as he woke.
"Yeah, it's evening, Justice. You should get ready... I've heard some bad things on the news; the city is going to s**t and people are going crazy. Looks like some sort of mob or cult murdering spree to me," Gloom said in his raspy gas-mask influenced voice, though his words were spoken softly to his side-kick as Justice roused himself. He's a sweet kid.
((OOC: Prettying later. Right now, just trying to get posts out.))
With the better part of her coworkers on vacation and the gardening season essentially over, Darcy had kicked the rest of them out of the shop for the day and had closed up early. Now she was at home in the backyard of her own tiny house, a skinny little two-story thing that looked like a short tower rather than an actual house if judged by size alone, and she was doing some of her own gardening; her garden had been her solace these last couple of months. A cutting here, some deadheading there – nothing too strenuous, just something to keep her mind occupied.
She spent a lot of time trying to keep her mind occupied these days, because every time she let it wander, it went straight back to Robert. Twining her fingers together and rubbing her hands as though trying to bring back the warmth that had suddenly fled, she picked up the small handheld rake and hoe combination that she used for her borders and set to grooming them, getting them ready for the winter that was soon to come; she had already done the borders in front of her house. Even in the winter, she couldn’t bear having dead flowers or wilted leaves in her borders; what kind of advertisement was it for a garden store if the manager’s garden was unkempt and struggling?
While she worked, she had a small portable radio sitting comfortably beside her on the grass, playing something quiet and classical that had a lot of violins in it; she’d played the violin as a young girl, because her mother had been so determined that her children all do something ‘classy’. It had been years since she’d last played, but she still loved the sound of them.
She never turned on the news while she worked in her garden; she wanted nothing from the outside world to intrude on her here, while she cared for what was hers and closed the past away. The hedge that stood thick and proud around the borders of her yard hid the outside world from her view, and the barbed-wire fence hidden within the hedges kept the outside world out there where it belonged – Robert had insisted that there be an added layer of protection around the house, as Darcy was so often home alone until late evening.
So she remained alone and quiet in her backyard, tending her garden – a small, blissfully ignorant island of sanity as the world outside her hedges went to hell.
Her large dark eyes flickered up as she heard a thud that sounded like it came from up the street a little ways. Now that her concentration was broken, she could hear other things; something that sounded almost like a faint scream. Frowning, she rose – even standing, she could not see over the fence. Surely she must be imagining things or hearing someone’s movie; this was the quietest of suburbs. Nothing ever happened here.
All the same, she suddenly felt uneasy. Turning off her radio, she took it and her tools inside. Almost automatically, she locked the back door and closed the heavy shutters on her windows – something she had only done a few times before. When she went upstairs to her room, she looked down and realized that she was still carrying the handheld weed fork. Even as she asked herself why in God’s name she hadn’t put that away with the others, a part of her mind whispered, It’s small but it’s heavy and sharp.
What could she be thinking about? she wondered. A little shiver passed through her – perhaps a cloud had gone over the sun.
She felt so very cold.
~
Ryan had just finished making notes on the last orders of the day. He was the last one in the shop, as the carpenter had gone home for the night; it was a little operation, just him, the carpenter and another assistant, and the other assistant had flaked that day. On the phone, he’d been babbling some s**t about how it was the end of the world and he had to be ready, and it had almost sounded like he was crying – Ry had been rather disgusted with him. Too many drugs, he figured. The guy was high half the time and crashing the other half.
Still pissed him off, though, because now he had to go through and do all the closing-up by himself. Muttering to himself about idiots and flakes, he went through the motions; cleaning the machines, locking up the workshed, storing the tools, putting dustcloths on the more sensitive machinery, doing a quick inventory of supplies (they were well-fixed, though running a little low on maple – Ryan left a brief note to get more ordered) and generally dealing with all the thousand and one small chores that had to be done before he could leave for the day. Despite his grumbling, he didn’t really mind doing it. It was nice to spend some time in the shop with only the scent of wood and the warmth of the day that clung inside the building.
The radio, on low in the background, suddenly interrupted the sort of half-meditation he’d sunk into – it sounded almost like someone had screamed on it. Frowning, Ryan glanced over at the radio. He hadn’t heard anything about a radio play being on today, and the reason he left it on the news was for the soothing background chatter. Walking over, he turned it up slightly – enough to hear some truly disgusting chomping and slurping sounds.
The hell?
He turned it back down, and after a second’s deliberation turned it off. Probably some kind of alternative radio play or something stupid…but there had been something very realistic, very visceral about those noises, and they made him a little uncomfortable.
Looking around, he did a quick checklist in his mind; yes, he was pretty sure he’d gotten everything. He stepped out the door and closed it behind him, locking the front door and testing the bolt. Satisfied, he turned away and started walking. He had no car, but he didn’t need one; he lived barely ten minutes’ walk from his workplace, in a dilapidated apartment building that was basically what he could afford.
Over halfway there, Ryan began to feel that he was being followed. A few times he glanced over his shoulder, but every time, he chided himself for being silly and childish.
When he heard a low, slow shuffling sound, Ryan glanced back once more and this time he went as pale as his skin tone would allow. The woman coming slowly, shamblingly up behind him was staring dead at him, and dead was the only correct term; she reeked of decay, and her entire body was various shades of green and purple. Sections of it were swollen, and it looked—
As she took another step forward, he took a much longer step back; thankfully, the woman wasn’t very tall, so every stride of his was nearly two of hers.
He didn’t have any weapons, no way to defend himself unless he grabbed a rock off the street, and glancing around fast, he saw a distressing lack of large decorative rocks.
“P-plll—”
The woman’s voice was slurred, bubbling, as though she were speaking through a mouthful of mud…or, he thought with increasing nausea, through a mouthful of organ slurry. But she was trying to speak to him. He wouldn’t have believed that anyone that looked so very dead would be able to—
“P-pllll…”
What the hell? Ryan backed further off, watching the rotting mess that might once have been a pretty woman – there was just enough left of her face to determine that.
“…eeeeeeeaseee—”
Hearing that broke his horror-induced stillness. He didn’t know what she wanted, didn’t know what he could do, but he did not want to be here any longer – spinning around, he took off. Normally he took about five minutes to make it the rest of the way to his apartment building; this time he made it within three. Ignoring the elevator, he dashed gracelessly up the stairs. His hands fumbled with the lock of his door, and only once he was inside with the door locked and bolted behind him did he dare make his slow, cautious way to the window.
Standing at his stingy little fifth-floor window, he looked down into hell.
Posted: Thu Aug 30, 2012 4:49 pm
╔════════════════════════════════════════════╗
Elijah Hale was sprawled across his bed, the stereo turned on full blast to one of his favorite heavy metal stations. His very-nearly-empty backpack, tossed carelessly to the floor, lay ignored in a pitiful heap, while his treasured skateboard leaned against the wall. He'd get to his homework sometime that day. Maybe.
Alicia Hale, Elijah's sister, was downstairs in the living room, desperately attempting to block out the trash her brother called 'music' and focus on her studies. Unlike her brother, the first thing she did upon returning home from class was to whip out her textbook, notebook, and pens. The music was pounding in her mind. She usually preferred silence when she studied, or at least music that was a bit gentler.
Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. Setting her pen down hard, she stomped up the flight of stairs to her brother's room and swung the door open, making a beeline for her brother's stereo. She flipped the dial, which oh-so-coincidentally happened to switch to a classical station.
Her brother gagged. "What sorta trash is that?"
Alicia rolled her eyes. "It's called music. Not like the junk you listen to."
"Ain't junk! The singers say things in their songs. Messages and stuff, real deep stuff!"
"Oh yes, I'm sure people who shriek about their thoughts on suicide and life after death really get their message across."
Her brother mimicked her actions, rolling his eyes, and Alicia fiddled with the dials some more. She stopped on the news station for a moment, in time to hear the most unsettling news report she's ever heard in her life.
"- the bodies inside were mangled. It looks as if perhaps . . . I was just told that these people were perhaps, I'm sorry, were perhaps eaten?"
"Is this some sort of joke?" Alicia muttered.
With growing horror, she listened intensely as the report progressed. "Jer, go open it. Maybe it's one of the interns. . ."What the hell?"- Oh my god, oh my god, what is that? WHAT THE ******** IS THAT?" She switched the radio off, unable to listen to the reporter's screaming for a moment more.
"Hey, Alicia . . ." Elijah said, sounding uncertain. He never called her by her name; it was always 'sis' or 'you.' He'd knelt on his bed, staring out the window. "That guy down there . . . he some kinda salesman or something? Ugliest salesman I've ever seen."
Alicia sped over, pressing her face to the glass. Outside, a lone figure stalked down the sidewalk. He had a sort of shuffling, limping gait. He had on what used to be a neatly pressed business suit, but it was all wrinkled and torn and mangled. He was far away when Alicia first spotted him, but now as he walked closer, she could see welts and wrinkles, blisters and blotches all over his face and hands. His skin didn't even look like skin anymore. Alicia fought the urge to gag. As Alicia stared, he drew closer to their house. It almost seemed like he was going to pass right by, but suddenly, he stopped and excruciatingly slowly, he looked up, right at the window where the two stood.
Alicia ducked down, out of sight, pulling Elijah down with her, even though she knew the man had already seen them. Slowly, she took a deep breath, unbelieving. He looked like one of those people in the movies Elijah watched all the time. "Something tells me he's not a salesman, Elijah. Or, at least, he isn't anymore."
Elijah blinked, not quite getting what she was implying. There was a moment of silence. Then, there was a scratching, thumping sound at the door. Unearthly groans and moans followed, and the hair on Elijah's and Alicia's neck stood on end.
Alicia swallowed, her voice wavering when she spoke, "Well, Mom did always tell us never to answer the door for strangers."
((Will pretty this up later as well. God, I just have zero inspiration lately.))
Being it in the middle of the afternoon, Liliha was at school, ignoring the boys who were gutsy enough to throw spitwads and paper balls at her, rolling her eyes at the girls who were cooing in disgust at her outfit and pink hair.
She had just started at her new middle school (she and her father had recently moved to this area because of his... issues) and she had yet to go through her list of tried-and-true steps of showing other kids that she was not to be ******** with. Usually, by the second week, she would be at least on step seven, but currently she was only on step two: Relax.
Relax. Bitches be dumb.
Step three was in progress though. Observe.
Step four was where it really got fun though. Find Their Weakness.
And then step five: Viciously throw it in their faces.
Step six: Make sure to make them cry.
Yeah, they would all learn in time.
At least, that was what she had been telling herself for the past two days. She didn't know why she was taking her time with it - maybe she thought she and her father wouldn't be staying for very long. Which wouldn't be too much of an assumption. Her father gained too much of a reputation too fast (and for that matter, so did she) so they were always hopping around.
She didn't mind though. She was more of a solitary creature anyway. People were stupid and a lot of people in one place were just retarded. They didn't call it 'mass hysteria' for nothing.
As far as she was concerned, she was better off without.
Not saying a word to the boys at the table across from her, she stood up and went to the bathroom that was on the far side of the cafeteria, whispers and hisses cropping up as she passed.
Whatever, dude. ******** them all.
Her face expressionless, she entered the bathroom.
For a middle-school bathroom, it wasn't very impressive. It smelled like piss and uncontrolled menstrual cycles and scribbles were all over the walls and doors and even carved into the sinks. It annoyed her just walking in there.
Gods, and her in-school therapists (oh, sorry, counselors) wondered why she hated people.
She walked in to the sound of puking in one of the stalls, and her nose wrinkled in irritation.
"You all right?" she chanced grimly, a deep scowl on her face.
There was silence for a moment, and then the toilet flushed and whoever was in the stall sucked in a shaky breath.
"Uh... I don't know..." she gasped from within. "I think..."
The stall door opened, and a girl from Liliha's grade stepped out, looking pale and ghastly with saliva still dribbling down her chin. But she didn't seem to have the sense to wipe it off. Appalled, Liliha's eyes widened, and she took the tiniest step back.
She looks like...
Death...
"I think..." the girl wheezed, red vomit all over her cute and popular 'Hello Kitty' sweater. "I think I'm gonna go see the nurse..."
"Yeaaaaah..." Liliha agreed slowly, backing up to the side to give the other girl plenty of room to exit. "You do that. That's probably an excellent idea."
Without saying another word to Liliha, the other girl slowly shuffled out, arms hanging limply at her sides. Liliha watched her closely, waiting until the girl was gone and the door had closed behind her did she turn and walk further into the bathroom, peering into the permanent-marker-violated mirrors. For some reason, that interaction had the hairs of the back of her neck standing on end.
God, whatever the ******** she's sick with, I hope I don't get it. She thought grimly. She looks horrible. And that color... was it blood? She shook her head to rid it of that nasty thought, but another, equally as frightening one entered. Hmm. Come to think of it, a few other kids have been looking really bad lately. Maybe not as bad as that, but... Her lips pursed. Maybe it's some kind of nasty bug. One thing's for sure though. It's certainly not a cold.
Sighing, she shook her head and turned her back to the mirrors, going into one of the stalls to use the bathroom.
She flushed, washed her hands in the grimy sink and then dried them on her undershirt, seeing as how all of the paper towels that should've been in the dispenser were on the floor. Rolling her eyes, she walked back to the door to the bathroom and opened it up.
Immediately as she did, warm, hot liquid splattered across her face and neck, and the metallic smell told her it was blood and the screams that met her ears make her eyes snap open in shock.
The girl that had just exited the bathroom seemed to have just sunk her teeth into the throat of another student, a tiny sixth grader that was at least six inches shorter than even Liliha. Blood drenched the poor girl's blouse, and a deep, angry snarl erupted from her attacker, eyes bright red and lost in greed. Over their shoulders, past them, Liliha could see the entire cafeteria had erupted out in chaos, students attacking other students, students attacking teachers. Blood squirted like from a hose that had sprung a leak, and soon it covered everything.
Which isn't too far from the truth, in all actuality.
Standing there, completely still as she watched the carnage, Liliha drew in a simple, shaky breath.
Those red eyes of the devil suddenly snapped back to attention, focusing on Liliha even as the poor girl went limp in death beneath her grasp. The gaze made Liliha hop to attention.
"s**t!" she muttered venomously, cutting to the side and dashing around the bulk of the terror, making her way around the cafeteria for the main doors. Even if everyone else on the ******** planet died, she had to ensure the safety of one person.
Daddy!
Snarling like an animal, the girl-turned-monster followed her.
---------
Abraham Saul knelt in front of the altar, the prayer beads slipping in and out of his fingers as he touched each one, muttering a prayer upon each one before letting it fall with the others. The faint smell of saffron from the beads and the strong smell of jasmine from the incense he burned filled the room as he sat there, head bowed.
God, I pray you will forgive me.
A bead.
God, I pray that we can be as happy as you see fit to make us.
A second.
God, I pray that my love for you will be forever so strong.
A third.
God, I pray that you will lead me out of temptation.
A fourth.
Out of the hands of evil.
A fifth.
Out of the hands of deception and wickedness.
A sixth.
God, I pray that you will watch over my daughter. Liliha, my sun.
A seventh.
God, I pray that you see her in your heart as a daughter like I do.
A eighth.
God, I pray that one day she doesn't wake up and decide that she has made a mistake.
A ninth.
He knew the last one was selfish. He was reminded of it every time he made it. But he couldn't help it. He didn't know how he could handle losing his daughter. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Please God, let me be one day worthy of her love and adoration.
A tenth.
And the cycle began anew.
Suddenly a chill ran down his spine, and he raised his head, opening his eyes.
"What...?" He breathed. "This heaviness in my chest... what is this?"
Decisive and swift, he cut his afternoon prayers short and stood, striding to the door.
"Liliha."
He opened the door to absolute chaos, and his eyes widened.
