|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2014 4:12 pm
((JOIN ONLY IF YOU WANT!)) ((I also don't believe i posting orders but WE CAN DO WHATEVER))You wake up in an empty, wrecked building, and at first you think it must be from the strange explosion. But you hear groaning, and as you look out the shattered window, you see hordes of staggering, bloody corpses shuffling past. biting back a scream, you dunk back down and hope none of them noticed you. (Welcome to the ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE) ----------------------------------------- s**t. s**t s**t shitshitshit. Julian's skull was a blur of pain and white light. His memories were fuzzy- the high pitched scream whistled through his ears. Eyes dilated making the world a haze of smoke and searing light. The sound of his own groaning barely pierced the cotton of his ears and he closed his eyes tightly, arm flung over them in search of relief.
Slowly the sounds began to sharpen, out of the muck of radiating pain. He couldn't still be moaning could he? With a furrowed brow he clamped fingers over his lips, pinching them just to be sure. Nope. He must me moaning without mouth action. So he held his breath. .... Noooope? Still groans. His eyes widened at the thought that maybe he had gotten drunk and fallen through the ceiling of a whore house... Again. He frantically looked around, grabbing his cloak to shield his eyes should any dainty dames be less than decent.
The sight that lay before him was- of course- way less than any acceptable. They were staggering. Drunk? Drunk and moaning? It was only then that he noticed the pieces of flesh that dangled, the broken limbs, the ashen skin. Holy ******** the goat. These were corpses... Corpse-i... corpsi-- ******** the semantics, It mattered a tonne of donkey s**t less, granted that these corpses-seies.... Were indeed chomping like a hungry animal. A herd of hungry animals.... Now what would be the name for a group of bloodthirsty corpse...s. DAMMNIT, NOW WAS NOT THE TIME.
The captain scrambled, leather boots finding purchase on the dust covered rubble. Smooth stone. H'ed never seen concrete before. NOT THE TIME NOT THE TIME, NOT THE TIME. His flight instinct won on this- nearly forgetting to grab his sack of astrolabe, food and papers as he clutched the hilt of his sword and made to climbing the rubble heap. God. Damn.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2014 5:30 pm
The first thing she felt was metal. It was sticky and there was an ungodly smell that clung to it, and when she opened her eyes through a haze of pain and struggle, she saw why: it was the hatchet, and she was touching the plagued blood.
Tsura bolted upright, immediately regretting it in the flood of pain that filled the space between her ears, making her wince and put her free hand to her temple. She didn't know what had happened and possessed only a multitude of questions to her predicament: what happened? Where was she? Why was the hatchet back in her possession and not hidden as she'd last put it? Why did this place smell like age and decay more than the hatchet did? And above all, what in the blazes was that obnoxious droning sound?
Slowly ambling to her feet, she gingerly picked up the hatchet by its handle, plucking her fallen turban cloth from the floor. Tsura had intended to fix her wild black hair back into its rightful place, but she made the mistake of glancing outside.
It looked like perpetual autumn. Everything was desaturated, the sky a strange sort of bloated grey, trees dead with only brown husks clinging to them and the strangest slabs of stone she'd never seen before broken up by long swaths of what looked like tightly woven grey thread as a fence. Tsura would have marveled at the strange things she was beholding if it wasn't for the swarm of walking corpses that seemed to be the source of the god-awful noise she was hearing.
Tsura immediately flattened her back against the wall, swallowing a scream and clutching the hatchet in both hands. Her heart hammered as she tried to make sense of what she'd just seen, though she was not yet brave enough to look back outside. She knew what a corpse looked like. Everyone did! And those...those outside were most definitely corpses in various states of decay. They were animated, moving, dropping pieces of themselves shuffling, ambling, looking for what, she didn't know...
She sent off a prayer to whatever God would listen that this was just a very, very bad dream. Tsura had nightmares before but never this creative. Swallowing down a small sound of fear, she slowly inched against the wall and peered around the edge--
--yeah, no, they were still there. Either her senses had become even more imaginative in her dreams or those were a lot of moving, rotted corpses. All she could figure is that the Plague was a lot worse than anyone had realized: not only did it granted a slow and painful death, he granted a horrendous undeath too--
That was when she heard the clamoring near by and, whipping around, Tsura brandished her hatchet with the familiarity of handling such a weapon, hiking it up in warning as the captain crested the rubble. "Do you live?" she cried out as a warning. She had no idea how that was supposed to be of any warning at all, or even the proper damn thing to say, but she was terrified and was more likely to drop the wedge on the new-comer's skull than have polite conversation about the state of his existence.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|