The room Rich landed in after fleeing from the thing with the rusty weapon was as generic as generic got, a stainless steel table with a plastic pillow, somehow not touched by gore or dilapidation, a few folding chairs set up for the doctors, nurses, RN's, and those who came with the patients. A cabinet once held bandages, pills, gloves, gauze, and various other supplies needed for minor injuries and quick treatments. Rich scanned it for anything helpful, but of course he only found dust and dissatisfaction. The magazines on the magazine rack had been taken too, probably as some makeshift bandaging, or at least a means to stop some bleeding.
Nothing to be done in this room, nothing useful to take, so he was going to search elsewhere.
"Richard."
OOC: SCENARIO 3
Scenario requirements: Your character turns the corner and is suddenly greeted by an apparition of character of your choice, from either this meta OR from before it in their lives that was important to them. That character begins to talk to them, as if they were that person (just rp it out yourself for that part, as this is what your character THINKS is that character). Your character is CONVINCED that this is this person, and they are alive.
The apparition begins to accuse your character of things. They could be anywhere from "why are you making these choices" to "you did __ wrong". You feel paranoia and regret. If you are rping with multiple characters, for this part, you CANNOT see anything other than the apparition. The more they talk, the more the apparition's face, and body begins to rot, as if rapidly going through the stages of the infection. At the very end, you are left talking to an Infected version of the apparition, before it dissolves away. Their accusations never leave you
When the event is over, add +10 infection to your character's infection meter. Characters involved: Rich Filth Extra effect: - Mobs from the mod thread NO LONGER spawn in new threads. - Bosses when repelled successfully decrease your infection rate by -10! - If your character "recognizes" the original form of the GM boss, it can ICly call out to them. This will let them do double damage for the rest of the battle!
OOC
Infection Rate: 30/100 Character's name: Rich Filth Character's faction: Mall Character's journal link:[x] Character's survival stats: [x] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Tall and built like a Kentucky farmer's son, graying hair and beard. Face currently concealed by a Storm Trooper mask.
The raspy, throaty voice came from the check up table, stopping Rich right in his tracks. No, it couldn't be her. Lora couldn't be in the hospital, not right where he'd just looked five seconds ago.
Everyone is infected.
His skin itched, he was angry at everything - maybe this was just another phase of the infection. Hallucinations didn't seem that far fetched a symptom of something that killed a person and turned them into some sort of shadow monster. But her voice was so real, so like the real Lora's - sultry, raspy from a young adult life spent smoking menthol cigarettes, and bellying the weight of the world in each syllable. Her voice was a concrete slab that would only crack under the greatest of impacts, the kind of voice that knew her husband could have come home in a coffin instead of his uniform, handgun traded for a bouquet of daisies.
Rich turned and there she was; glossy blonde hair braided into a basket bun, bottle green eyes half lidded, wearing the white sundress she'd worn on their first date as kids in high school. "Lora?" Rich croaked, trepidation shaking every inch of his worn, hardy body. He'd have gotten on his knees if the adrenaline let him. "L-Lora? Where's Coral? How'd you get-"
Her lips curved upward in a pretty smile, unusually smug for his wife. "Shhh, sweetheart. It don't matter." She drawled, sitting up from her seat and waltzed to Rich, caressing his cheek with a mocking fondness, patronizing him with every motion.
"Yer not my Lora."
"Of course I am, sweetheart." Her hair was suddenly undone, matted, grimy with mud and sweat. "I"m your lovely wife of twenty years, the love of your life, your high school sweetheart. The one you tossed aside the second danger hit at work, the same woman you said you'd protect with every ounce of your being."
Rich shuddered, Lora's bruised and bleeding fingers tracing lines across his cheek, down his chest. Her face was gaunt, the pale pink blush replaced by sickly yellow, as if she had a diseased liver. "You couldn't protect me at all. You can't protect no one, Rich. Couldn't protect Becky, couldn't protect Sam, or Jeff. Couldn't even protect that poor gal at the casino - even though she told you how."
She was all skin and bone now, bruises more than flesh, mouth flecked with foam and eyelids drooping over hollow pits. "You're a worthless husband, a piece a' s**t if I ever seen one, Rich Filth. Shitty cop, terrible husband, awful father, nothing of a friend. Ya think yer gonna make it outta here alive, hon?" She cackled something evil, something frighteningly evil and crow-like. "I'll be seein' ya in Hell, Richie. You n' them other fellers who gone and abandoned their kin."
Quote:
+10 Infection!
OOC
Infection Rate: 40/100 Character's name: Rich Filth Character's faction: Mall Character's journal link:[x] Character's survival stats: [x] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Tall and built like a Kentucky farmer's son, graying hair and beard. Face currently concealed by a Storm Trooper mask.
