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This is Halloween Crossroads 

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Reply { ARCHIVED } ----------------- Day Zero, Sept 2015
[ SURVIVAL SOLO ] Safety (Pomelo)

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itspao_


Witty Punching Bag

PostPosted: Sun Sep 27, 2015 12:15 am


Outside was...refreshing. At least compared to the inside of the hospital.

The fog was still thick and visible in the distance, but closer to the building it was a bit thinner and it wasn't zero visibility. She noticed a campfire in the distance and decided that it'd be a good idea to have some company, but only after she rinsed her hands. She had a couple of small bottles of water with her, those miniature sized ones that she often found while on scavenger hunts. She would rather have saved them, but how to explain the blood on her hands?

No...she couldn't risk the questions. What if they targeted her for it? She hadn't done anything! At least not consciously...

Quickly she rinsed her hands and tossed the bottles, then shakily made her way over.

[ Infection Rate: 45/100 ]


Quote:
[ 41 - 60 ] Your paranoia has peaked. You feel terrified, alone, but you also feel the anger of being left alone. You begin to sweat, building a light fever and nausea. You sometimes pause mid-conversation entirely as in front of you sometimes appear people familiar to you, talking to you instead (if you are at this stage, you must consistently roll 1d10 per non-battle post you make, and if you roll 1-3 you begin to hallucinate).


OOC: SCENARIO 8
Scenario requirements: Your character finds a campfire, and there's a few people settled around it. The people stationed at the campfire are fixated at it, and almost say nothing to you. You can (and any other players in the thread) talk to them as you wish. When you are done talking to them all, this event is over!

Character 1: A girl with long black hair. She stares into the campfire and continues to say the words she lied over and over.

Character 2: A balding, old man. He begins to recount a story about his past, about how he was a fisherman. All he fished up were dead bodies. He continues to talk about fishing up his friends. He continues to talk about his wife and how he fished her up too. The story gets more and more morbid.

Character 3: A small boy, maybe five years old. He is looking straight at you the entire time. As you approach him, he whispers I know why this is is happening. If you question him further he doesn't say anything. However if you bribe him with a food item (DISCARD IMMEDIATELY AFTER) he will take it and continue speaking. I am Peter Pan. You blink, and as you do, you realize it wasn't a child at all, but simply an skeleton corpse of a child.

When the event is over, add +10 infection to your character's infection meter.

Characters involved: Pomelo Ranier Antonelli

Extra effect: Players [ carrying a flashlight ] can shine it in dark places. Does additional +1 damage every time they hit a mob (including bosses) when they flash it at them. Also, if one person rolls a mob in a PRP/SOLO/ORP thread, nobody else in the thread has to roll for mobs. This post is applicable to ALL characters, flashlight or none.


OOC
Character's name: Pomelo Ranier "Mel" Antonelli
Character's faction: Apartments

Character's journal link: [ click ]
Character's survival stats: [ view ]

BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Petit, 5'5" and 114lbs. She is rather fair skinned with relatively soft facial features (compared to her parents) and curiously blue-green eyes. Her hair is a light shade of caramel brown and is naturally wavy, an asset she's rather proud of. [ ref ]
itspao_ rolled 1 10-sided dice: 1 Total: 1 (1-10)
PostPosted: Sun Sep 27, 2015 2:47 am


She was still shaking by the time she made it to the campfire, and her eyes were darting from one spot to the next without really stopping. The voices were coming back and they were a bit louder than before, she couldn't...quite focus on any one thing. She made it though, and welcomed the added warmth despite already starting to sweat through her many layers of clothing. She didn't care, there was a sort of comfort being around others, and being near something warmth. So far all she'd ever come across were rotting corpses or undying, so a campfire was a nice change of pace.

There were others around it as well, but they were silent much like she was.

One woman beside her was whispering, "I lied," repeatedly. She cleared her throat to try and get the woman's attention to ask what it was she'd lied about, but that didn't work so she turned her eyes to the fire and watched the flames dance for a moment. The itch next came about on her neck and she absently scratched it as she picked up on a story of an old man across from the fire, a fisherman by trade. Not that his stories were at all about fishing from the good ol' days. No, not his. Her stomach started turning when he mentioned the state of all of the bodies he'd fished up, and she gagged when he mentioned that he also managed to fish out his son...

She zoned out of eavesdropping on that conversation and her eyes went back to the fire once more to steady her breathing. The next time she looked up she noticed a boy staring right at her.

"Wha--" she started to say, but just sort of stopped before she actually said anything at all.

Behind the boy she saw her older brother, Quince, and her expression went from confused to surprised to ecstatic, though something kept her rooted to her spot. He smiled back, even waved before he started to recount their last camping trip. She nodded along and didn't say a word, afraid that perhaps he would stop talking if she said anything at all, much like the voices in her head disappeared when she tried to figure them out.

The story went on to the point about when she nearly burned down their tents, but when she looked away for only a second at the boy who was still staring at her, Quince's voice was gone. He was gone, and for the umpteenth time that night her eyes welled up with tears that quickly overflowed and fell, leaving the tell-tale wet streaks on her face.

She was tired of crying. Of the reminders. Of the guilt. Of all of it, really. And she walked away silently, hoping she would eventually come across someone, a real someone, who would actually talk to her, maybe even help her.

Shoot, they didn't even have to help her. At this point, they just needed to be real.

[ Infection Rate: 45 +10 55/100 ]


Quote:
[ 41 - 60 ] Your paranoia has peaked. You feel terrified, alone, but you also feel the anger of being left alone. You begin to sweat, building a light fever and nausea. You sometimes pause mid-conversation entirely as in front of you sometimes appear people familiar to you, talking to you instead (if you are at this stage, you must consistently roll 1d10 per non-battle post you make, and if you roll 1-3 you begin to hallucinate).


OOC
Character's name: Pomelo Ranier "Mel" Antonelli
Character's faction: Apartments

Character's journal link: [ click ]
Character's survival stats: [ view ]

BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Petit, 5'5" and 114lbs. She is rather fair skinned with relatively soft facial features (compared to her parents) and curiously blue-green eyes. Her hair is a light shade of caramel brown and is naturally wavy, an asset she's rather proud of. [ ref ]


itspao_


Witty Punching Bag

Reply
{ ARCHIVED } ----------------- Day Zero, Sept 2015

 
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