A New Life(Zombie Apoc RP)

[Kelsi Kitsune]

Sign ups/OOC: OPEN SIGNUPS - Apocalyptic Roleplay

The world had long ago been ravaged by corrupt politicians, wars, and crime, when it was a 'thriving' planet. Now, sixty years after the world went to hell and brought back souvenirs, plenty of survivors still strive to live in this dead world, and plenty of the undead have come from the underworld to claim the rest of humanity.

If that weren't enough, some have mutated from loads of various situations, in order to better catch their victims. The survivors, living in what is now a shell, far from its former self, have never had to say that the undead were a worse threat than mankind itself, until now. Do they have what it takes to survive in this hellish, unforgiving world, or will they add to the count of lifeless corpses, roaming the Earth forever?

[fieldbox=Mani Cortez, red, solid]The lone wolf made her way through the urban area of a large town, a rather industrial area. Her husky companion, Kane, walked beside her, eyes fixated on the road ahead, ears searching for anything that could be hostile. Mani never used words when traveling with her friend in daylight. She had taught Kane how to read lips, as well as hand signs, not unlike what military individuals would use. It was crucial to do so, as the undead that roamed the streets and alleyways could hear quite well.

She silently searched the cars scattered along the road, looking in a sedan as her final stop before heading home. In it was a case big enough to fit a rifle, and a large tote of guns. Obviously left untouched due to the undead inside, a father who had shot himself in the head, his wife in the passenger seat, with bite marks all over, and a ring matching the fathers, and two kids in the back seat. Mani really didn't feel like wasting time killing them over guns that probably didn't have ammo, and was focused on food, water, and supplies for the time being.

It's a shame, She thought. That rifle case looked promising, but I just can't spare the time to dispatch those undead. Mani made her way back to where she came from, her hideout not far from where she was. The area was rather quiet for a place once packed with an abundance of people.[/fieldbox]

Meanwhile, on the other side of town...


[fieldbox=Pyrrha Alonzo, blue, solid]The sound of gunfire filled the air as bandits and survivors battled it out, bullets flying everywhere. Pyrrha made her way around a large building, headed towards the survivors they had targeted. She got close to them, remaining unseen, and watched the one they assumed to be the leader, and counted down. Three, two, one... Bang. As she thought the words in her head, a loud crack rang out, and the slender man she was fixated on tilted his head back, blood splattering everywhere, falling over with a large hole between his eyes.

The last bullet their sniper had, put to good use. The remaining survivors fled or dropped their weapons. Pyrrha had hoped they'd all just run, as she knew what her group did to 'prisoners'. There were things much worse than sexual or physical torture, and they would use as many of their hellish stunts as they could before their victims died. Starvation, isolation, name a list of things, and it was likely they used it. Pyrrha's group even had a massive hole dug out, for the purpose of depriving the victims of all senses along with starving them. Long periods of time there caused most to attack the walls out of extreme paranoia.

The axe wielding bandit pulled out her sidearm, and shot one survivor in the back as she fled, hitting the spine and paralyzing her, before firing another round into her face, while her group rounded and tied up the survivors who had surrendered. Pyrrha pulled her mask off, revealing her flame scarred face, softly rubbing her fingers across her clawed up right eye.

"Thinking about that mishap again, boss?" A bandit under her command inquired, looking over at her. "It wasn't an accident. It wasn't a mishap." She said, putting her gas mask back on. "I think it's time to find the one I've been looking for, and repay her for this.. gift."[/fieldbox]

 

[Crysodic]

Grover flicked open the lid on his lighter and gave it a few turns of the wheel before flinging it across the room. "Matches anyone?" Grover looked at the other two men in the room, both holding buckets of non-boiled water, hoping for the small fire to start. "We don't have any..." One man said fumbling with his backpack after setting down his own pail of water. "You need water, I need fire." Grover said quietly while pushing himself up off the gray stone ground. "Well good luck gentlemen, I'll be leaving now." Grover slipped on his fireman's jacket and then threw his pack over his shoulder. "Don't go! We need the water! Help us...or else!" The other of the two drew a switchblade and pointed it towards Grover, his hand shaking violently. Grover could only just shake his head and push the door open to the outside world, letting it slam behind him. Sounds of shuffling came from within the small rundown hut, and then silence.

Grover twisted his cap, commanding the bill of the hat to shade his eyes from the sun. The beaming light seemed to come from all around as it seemed to be noon. Wishing he still had a watch, Grover trudged down the street with his gear in tow. A few abandoned cars seemed of interest, but turned out to be useless hunks of junk. Shots rang out down the road, making Grover dive behind a half torn car and hoping those shots were not for him. There was silence, then more gunfire, seemingly tons of guns. Sometime passed and the bullets seemed to stop flying, and were replaced by some blood curdling screams. A few moments after, softer paps seemed to go off before more silence. Grover took the risk and grabbed the edge of the car he was hiding behind and looked over. He could make out a few figures, but not any distinct features. Possibly survivors, possibly insane people, possibly very convincing Zeds. Grover contemplated going up to them, or just leaving. After sitting in the most uncomfortable position ever for a few moments, Grover decided to take the middle road and sit there and watch what they do.​

 

[Tarieles]

[fieldbox="Kimber Lawson, #993366, dashed, 10, Mistral"]It was likely Kimber would be dead by now if she hadn't known how to survive beforehand. She was born into this apocalypse, she was trained into this apocalypse, and she'd probably die in this apocalypse. But, until that happened, she worked on cars. Some straggling survivors would come for help. She dealt in trade. She usually allowed them to simply go forage while she worked. If they brought back some things she needed or wanted, they could go on their way. If not, they had to pay from their personal cache. Generally, food or ammunition. It's how she still had some bullets for her gun and a decent supply of food. It may have been hell on earth, but she still found time to run a business.

Currently, she was armed with all she had for weapons, and was on a scavenge. Jonah trotted beside her, the only noise was his breath and his nails clicking on the pavement. She made her way to the road, where cars had piled up. Most were already picked through, but there was the occasional gem. She opened the hood of one, and grinned. A cooling fan was still attached to the destroyed engine. She made quick work of detaching it, and stuffed it in her bag. "Nice." She mused, seeing some wires as well. Wires were hard to come by. She yanked those out as well, stuffing them in her bag. She peered inside the car, noticing a body that was mostly just bits of skin hanging from a skeleton. She also saw a purse and some luggage. She tried the door. Locked. Taking her wrench she smashed the window, making some noise. She hoped it wasn't enough to call any undead. She quickly rooted through the purse, finding a few pens, some crumbling makeup, a congealed bottle of lotion, and other things in a lady's purse. She took the flammables, and the emptied purse. It felt like faux leather. She looked at the luggage, and instead of looking through it, decided to take the whole thing. Maybe some of the clothes would fit. It was only a small suitcase, so she wasn't expecting much. However, some was better than none.[/fieldbox]
[fieldbox="Cecilia Wallace, #DB7D69, dashed, 10, Gabriola"]Cecilia sat huddled in the back of a van, waiting for her brother to return. He didn't like her leaving, so she usually kept watch, and made sure no one tried to jack their hideout. She slowly nibbled on some chips that they were able to grab from a vending machine. They were not filling in the slightest, but it helped time pass quicker. She was always scared for his safety when he went out, but he always came back safe, and often with some food and water. She sighed, pulling out a book from her backpack. It was a text book, but it something to read at least. If they ever made it out, she could be a master doctor with how much she had read it so far.[/fieldbox]
[fieldbox="Cameron Wallace, #386C36, dashed, 10, Optima"]Cameron carefully stalked the streets, picking through cars, searching for some food. He knew it was mostly a lost cause, he'd have to look around town in the buildings to find things. However, he did find a diaper bag that was filled with little kid snacks. He took those immediately. He stopped when he thought he heard something. He immediately took cover, peeking over the nose of the car. A figure. A woman. She walked down the street with a sense of purpose. She knew where she was going. This was no zed. He got a little closer, using cars for cover. He grabbed his bat, gripping it tightly in case things came to blows. As he stood, the end of it hit the side of the car, creating a slightly loud banging sound. This deterred him from trying to make friends, and he quickly ducked back down. He had to find a way out...
@Isaki Mori[/fieldbox]
[fieldbox="Maddock Mullins, #3366ff, dashed, 10, Tahoma"]Maddock froze as he heard distant gunfire. There was a lot. That usually meant bandits. He wasn't too concerned, however. It was a far ways off. He returned to sacking the house he was in, finding quite a few nice things. A couple cans of soup made him smile. He had been living off of snack food for a long time. Anything that could be used to make real food was always welcome. He didn't find much else in the house, other than a nice place to set up camp. There was an upstairs with a door leading to a balcony. Perfect for making an escape. In the basement, there was plywood and boards, which would be useful for boarding windows. It wasn't enough to cover the whole house, but three or four windows at least. He had instructed Sadie to stay near the door, and she would definitely bark if she heard anything. He had trained her well. He finally nodded, deciding to take this place as his own.[/fieldbox]

 

[Kelsi Kitsune]

@Tarieles, @Crysodic(I think)
[fieldbox=Mani Cortez, red, solid]Mani had started walking away when she heard a banging noise in the vicinity. A zombie? A human? A dog? Kane didn't play well with others, and it had cost him more than his fair share of scars all over. She wasn't particularly worried if he attacked the undead, as some species of animals seemed to be... partially immune, of sorts, to it. They would mostly start acting a bit crazier, out of the norm, for a while, presumably while the infection cycled through their body before finding a way back out, with no luck of taking hold. If it managed to enter their blood stream, however, that was a different story.

If it wasn't her first thought, and wasn't her last, that could only mean it was a human of either the survivor or bandit varieties. She snapped her fingers, and pointed in the direction of the noise, instructing Kane to investigate. Kane inched his way toward the source of the noise, looking under and inside of cars along the way. As he got ever so close, a loud bang rang out, as a survivor in the opposite direction had pulled the trigger on a large shotgun, backing his way into the street with a large crowd of the undead in tow. Mani let out a long whistle in a low-to-high pitch, signaling Kane back to her, as she busted into a house. The man ran in the direction of the noise she had heard, tripping a few feet before where Kane had investigated furthest, and being mauled just feet from where Kane had turned around. Whatever was there would want to get the hell out of there in a hurry.

She ducked away from the windows, and headed quietly up the stairs, on the lookout for zeds inside her place of refuge, her heart literally pounding so hard from the thought of a potential bandit pursuing her, as well as the thought of the undead noticing her, that it was giving her a headache.[/fieldbox]

Meanwhile...

[fieldbox=Pyrrha Alonzo, blue, solid]The area of the city in which Pyrrha was currently in was what survivors in the larger vicinity had named the 'Sea of Corpses', and for obvious reasons. The lifeless bodies of undead, heroic survivors, and bastards who called themselves bandits, were piled everywhere. "A fitting place to fulfill my mission. This is where I'll end it." The bandit said, clearly intending to finish something in the most ironic way possible. Irony, a thing that not many people with a personal vendetta would choose to implement in their goal of revenge, and something she very well knew would be unavoidable by both herself, and her target.

"Ma'am we've located her," A static-filled voice said over her radio. "She just locked herself in a building, there's one or two other survivors, and a horde of undead. What are your orders?" He asked, causing Pyrrha to smile, something that not a single soul had seen her do in over three years, or would see even now. "Maintain your position, and follow her anywhere she might live to travel to. Keep me posted on your location. That is all." She said, her weapons being holstered, the handgun at her side and the axe on her back. Pyrrha started off in the direction of the city, her group in tow. Finally, I'll pay my dearest friend back for her lovely gift, as well as her mutt for his...[/fieldbox]​

 

[Crysodic]

@Isaki Mori

Grover sat in his spot for a while longer, until he saw the figures start moving towards him. Then he picked up his gear and shuffled to a one floor house, climbing into a open window and shutting it behind him. Grover closed the drapes that covered the window, or what was left of them. Probably would make some good cloth, have to remember to take them when I leave. Grover shook his head as the group seemed to grow larger, and closer with every second. He could see now that they were dressed quite scraggly but yet methodically. Most of the group seemed to have worn clothes but possibly on purpose, and they moved as they knew where they were going and what their plan was. Fanned out but ready to group together if needed, as if they were searching and ready for combat if they found what they desire. One seemed to be farther out, possibly the command of the group, but clothed very differently to the point of almost flashy. Firemen's suit for huge fires, factory level fires, but this suit lost some of its glow and gained some stains. Slightly bothered by this sight Grover looked over his own jacket and brushed off the grime of the reflective parts. His pride took over reasoning and safety sometimes, and it has almost gotten him into trouble a few times.

The odd looking group lightly searched the area as they passed through, only opening the doors and seeing if anything was useful before leaving again. Grover decided to stay a bit too long and the group was now too close to run from, and too far to ambush someone without it being obvious. Can't leave, can't fight. Camouflage then. Grover thought as he slipped off the bag and his jacket and placing them before him. His plan was probably bad, and running was the best option, but why not try something new? He looked around at his gear and planned out how to present it. Grover took the pistol and ejected the mag from gun and slipped it into his pocket while lightly tossing the gun towards one of the two chairs. Next, Grover took out the extra filters of his good gasmask and sat them down in front of him, to the side of the backpack. Hanging onto the bag, Grover left the less useful gasmask on the bag, and unzipped the top to show off the better gasmask just so slightly. He took the bag and placed it on the chair the gun was next to. Grover himself now took the ax and gave a few practice swings to get used to the weight of the weapon again. A moment later, he walked into the nearby bathroom and disturbed some of the dust and carpets on his way. Grover stood at the ready and peaked towards the front door to see his victim.​