✖CONTAINMENT✖

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Mglo

Mglo

Whatever you do, do it with style.
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Posting Speed
  1. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
As long as the plot's good I'm in. That says nothing useful though... so I'll say: sci-fi, fantasy, I'm curious enough about horror to add it, aaaand action? yeah, ok, sure, action!
✖LUXEMBOURG✖ ✖STORY ✖Characters ✖Character Sheet ✖Extra Info
  • 24618251bdfedf84d508d79a347b2990.jpg

  • The year is 2164.

    My name is Royce Elliot and I am a survivor by association, at least for the past four years. I've been asked to write down everything I know, and have lived through, before arriving here.

    Let's start at the beginning of the end, 4 years ago. The first outbreak.
    You'd think a technologically advanced society like ours could handle a little virus. In fact, we could. We'd done it before. The difference this time around was that THE virus had corporate backing. It was designed to be a biological weapon. The first outbreak was caused by accidental contamination during testing. No biggie. The corporate hands covered it up as a new strain of the flu while they cleaned up their mess. What they didn't count on, was for it to mutate so rapidly and so dangerously. Who was infected? Who wasn't? We couldn't even tell.

    Our advanced technology bit us right in the ass when we most needed it.
    By the time they figured it out, that the virus had spread among us without notice, it was too late. Suddenly people fell ill and started dying. Except, they didn't stay quite dead. One bite, enough contact with their fluids and it was over. We threw all our technology at it, but only accomplished to destroy our surroundings. We destroyed a lot of our technology in the process. We were afraid and stupid, and not at all united. Each country did its own thing and later regretted it.

    Some genius and his squad in Scotland created a safe city they called Leven. To my knowledge then, the only of its kind. A city untouched by the living dead. Now I know better, but I digress. Leven remained intact thanks to the charismatic leaders. But they were all powerful in that city and power changes people. In their hands Leven became a dystopian society. A totalitarian regime.

    The regime controlled everything using fear tactics on the population. Feelings and artistic expression were outlawed. Citizens were required to take a daily dose of emotion suppressants. Citizens were content to exist to continue their existence. They did not realize they were not really living. We were a different type of Zombie in Leven.

    Thankfully I worked for the Technology Division, led by the aforementioned genius, and I worked directly for him. That saved me from the drug he ironically created, but it also saved me from Leven. He and his leader friend, Preston, planned to overthrow the tyranny but their plan took too long. The ideology was sealed and Leven could not be truly saved. Instead, we escaped, along with a couple citizens and refugees for whom there was still hope.

    Alas, during our escape and the storm that helped bring about Leven's end, we were separated. We have not heard from Preston Wiles or Nicolas Rio, but we did leave behind messages in case they are still looking for us. We, on the other hand, reached a safe zone in London from which we were soon kicked out. The child, Rosalina, turned out to be infected... we didn't know. We vouched for her and when she turned and killed a Londoner we were thrown out. A fisherman was nice enough to take us to the mainland, he said we wouldn't find another safe zone in the UK. We spent over a month near the shore because the mainland zombies turned out to be very much different from the ones we knew. Somewhere at the border of France and Belgium, we were found by a group of people that helped us out. It took a while, but eventually they came to trust us and invited us to Luxenbourg, a very large safe zone maintained by the allied forces of Germany, France, and Belgium.

    Luxenbourg is still beautiful despite the disasters that have befallen us all, but it is also a highly organized and meticulously kept. It is an ant colony in many ways. It has to be, considering the zombie mutations that have happened in the area. I'm more of an intellectual, particularly when it comes to organizational situations, and so I have been assigned to a position far away from the borders. I will be safe so long as this country stands. I'm not sure that the others will be so lucky. They've been in training as far as I've been told, although training for what? That I haven't been informed. Time's up. Back to work.

    Royce Elliott​

    ​

  • 3 Character Limit​
    ALIVE IN DANGER DEAD




  • Your character sheet can be as simple or extensive as you wish. Most of the action should happen IC, but it would be interesting to know some details about your character that might be unlikely for us to find out through IC. Up to you.
    ✖ ✖ ✖

    Name:

    Age: (No restrictions, but keep In mind that in case of a confrontation the younger ones, i.e. kids, are more likely to die D: )

    Gender:

    Origin: (For all we know you were a tourist that got stuck In Lux during the outbreak. Or, like Royce's group, you come from somewhere else. Mebbe, you've been here all along but that means you could be German, Belgian, or French too.)

    Occupation: (can be the occupation they had before outbreak if they're still employing those skills, or occupation in Luxembourg safe zone, or if they're new to Lux then your planned job in there)

    Appearance: (Picture and/or description is fine. No restrictions on pictures but if you're going to do a real person don't pick someone widely known.)

    Personality:

    Biography:

    Weapon: This is on the sci-fi side so no limitations here either, so long as you keep in mind that more technologically advanced weapons have a limiter. As in, most people are citizens turned soldiers, they only have a basic training and understanding of things so they're not going to engineer/invent/fix advanced technology on the spot. Unless, you were some sort of a weapon designer in your pre-outbreak occupation. *shrugs* Just keep things logical.

    Relationships:(Any connections to the other characters. You can add this as we go or pre-establish it by contacting others. I'm more than willing to help with that so PM me!)


  • >>>Summary of Events<<<
    Co-mod: @ItariChan

    Guidelines
    I won't deny a character so long as they're internally consistent.
    Don't be a dick to other players even if your character is a dick.
    use gud grammahr
    So long as you keep things logical, you have free reign of this RP world.
    If you go a bit nuts I'll step in, but I'm not a control freak type GM.
    I'll be throwing things at you, and have a vaguely organized chapter-like deal going on.
    No mercenaries, assassins, thieves, and the like (unless it's a side-job/behind closed doors type of thing)
    lu-2_zpspp0uxd32.gif

    Stuff from the Group RP AD​
    Newly created RP... sorta. It's more of a Season 2 of an old RP but starting fresh and from zero. Storyline pretty much summarizes it all and there's relatively little info about this new one because I'm a believer in incorporating player ideas. Basically, and I sort of hinted at it, this RP will take place in an ant colony sort of safe zone where everybody works together and cares for each other. The particular family-feel comes from the fact that zombie mutations in the area have these people much more cornered than the typical zombie creation. Having said that, it doesn't mean that everybody is all about love and peace, on the contrary, survival life with the constant threat of a zombie breach pushes some into ruthlessness.... yeh. Ask away, make suggestions, please! It helps me give this more shape and lead it in the direction, more or less, that the group wants.

    Zombie mutations: Think resident evil, bio-mechas, uh... what's that other game with the- Left 4 dead.

    Weapons: I'm inclined to allow mechas since this safe zone is more extensive and we have the cooperation of 4 countries so resources should be enough to have and maintain a few mechas.

[btn=modc|https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/containment.140623/page-2|self]OOC & SIGNUPS[/btn]​
 
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[fieldbox= Trainee Bunker | Outside, limegreen, solid, 10"] Saorise grinned and laced up her own boots and pulled on a hoodie, then crawled back onto her bed and pulled out four guns she kept hidden in the ceiling (technically they weren't allowed to have guns on them) and tossed two to Dallis before coming back down. You would think that the other trainees would try to stop them, but in the few months that they had been there, Dallis and Saorise had caused quite a bit of trouble. They had learned to stay out of their antics if they wanted to avoid getting hurt or in trouble, so most of those who were still awake rolled over and pretended to sleep. But of course, in every class you have the teachers pet.

Saoirse was on her way following Dallis out the window when she felt someone grab her foot "Where are you two going! Didn't you hear the supervisor? Our orders are to stay here."

It was Siemen (Simon). The resident goody-two-shoes "top of the class" model. He got top marks in all the training exercises, but when it came to actual zombie hunting he had no experience.

"Beat it, semen!" Saoirse said while giving him a swift kick in the face, sending him flying back into the bunker. Ah she hated that annoying elitist yellow-green color he gave off. It made her want to puke.

"IT'S SIEMEN" He he screamed after the pair while holding his bleeding nose after scrambling up from the floor, "JUST YOU WAIT TILL I TELL SERGEANT WILLIAMS!! I'LL TELL HIM ABOUT THOSE GUNS YOU'RE HIDING TOO!" He retreated back into the room, tending to his nose, as he turned around, he noticed shaking blobs of blankets, as the other trainees struggled to hold in their laughter, "Shut up! Or else!" He shouted while giving one of the laughing pile of blankets a kick of his own.

After Saoirse got out, the two of them took off running. Because of the announcement they knew the rough location of where the school should be so they headed that way, "Watch your ammo, we don't have any extra rounds!"
[/fieldbox]
 
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[fieldbox="☾Nadia Fairchild ↔ Location: Attic☽, plum, dashed, 20, Book Antiqua"]What Doesn't Kill You Will Take Everything.
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Nadia didn't know how long she stood there transfixed by the flashing message scrolling across the t.v. screen but her brain eventually shook itself from its stupor and realized that she needed to go wake Vera up right away. Her sister was many things but a light sleeper was not one of them. Nadia didn't have enough appendages to count how many times Nadia had trouble waking her sister up at times. The mute girl herself was rather restless when it came to sleep and generally woke up at the slightest noise. She had been like this from birth and at first it was troublesome for her parents but it has saved the sisters many times when the world turned upside down. With that in mind, Nadia turned to head back down the hall but the click of claws on linoleum froze her in place. She slowly turned her head to the right, already knowing what she was going to see but dreading it anyway.

At the sight of two zombies hashing it out on the kitchen floor, probably fighting over her, a jolt of fear shot through her and threatened to collapse her to her knees. She struggled to not take gasping breathes and fought back the panic looming in her mind. Now was no time to panic! She needed to stay calm. Hard to do with two beasts that could rip her head off not two feet away but she persisted nevertheless. While they were distracted, she needed to get back to the bedroom and Vera. But before she could fully formulate a solid plan, the familiar quiet click of a door made her glance down the hall out of the corner of her eye and she almost sagged in relief. Vera!

The girl resisted the urge to race over to her sister, as she didn't want to attract the attention of the two wrestling zombies but she couldn't help but lean into the older girl when Vera rushed over to her to make sure she was okay. Nadia nodded in affirmation. At Vera's command to go to the secret place, Nadia quickly signed for Vera to be careful, gave her sister a quick hug before the little girl turned and sprinted down the hallway as fast as her little legs could.

As she reached the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her, she heard sounds that could only mean Vera had engaged the zombies. Her heart jolted in fear for her sister before she shook herself out of it and kicked into motion. Locking the door, Nadia crouched down and withdrew a backpack prepared for this very occasion. Vera was nothing if not prepared. On her days off, the older girl would run Nadia through a series of scenarios where zombies would break in. But the problem was, was that they truly could not predict what a zombie would do. But they were prepared just in case. After a moments hesitation, Nadia scooped Mimzy the Rabbit off the bed and scurried over to the far wall. Kneeling down, the little girl wedged the tip of her knife into an almost invisible crack and pulled back with all her strength. A secret hatch popped open and the girl crawled through on her hands and knees, pulled the hatch closed with a handle attached on the inside and locking the hatch in place.

The little girl then stood up in a space about three feet wide and three feet tall. She dug around in her backpack and pulled out a flashlight and clicked it on. In front of her stood a ladder leading straight up to the attic and Nadia got to climbing, wincing as the rough wood dug into the bare soles of her feet. She had always worn shoes in the practice runs. Soon she pulled herself into the attic which had a make-shift pallet in the far corner. The little girl stood and padded over to it on silent feet. She sat down and set her backpack next to her. The sisters had already stocked the attic with some food in water in the event that Nadia would be up there for a little bit.

The girl hugged Mimzy close to her chest and listened quietly to the noises she could hear from below. In the event that someone does come after her on Vera's orders, Nadia would be able to hear them moving down below. [/fieldbox]
 
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[dash=#D4AF37]Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.

The sounds of a singing clock echoed through the quiet halls of Harriet's home, filling even the dustiest corners with a steady heartbeat. Though her workbench was rooms away from the old ticking thing, the engineer could not help but surrender herself to the beat of the clock. Her hands moved in measured strokes, tightening this, oiling that, soldering a stray piece and polishing another, always to the rhythm of the passing seconds. She did not speak; Diesel was sound asleep now, and after the day they'd had the German Shepherd had earned it. The only sounds the woman heard were the endless clicking of the clock several rooms over, and the in-and-out of her own breathing unconsciously aligned to the meticulous beat.

It had been at least twenty hours since the mechanic had taken a break for herself (though of course she had stopped several times to fill her companion's dog bowl), so carefully focused on the tasks before her that the rest of the world had ceased to exist. On the tabletop to her left sat the half-finished prototype of a silent phasor gun; to the right rested a ball of fibers that, when assembled, were meant to dampen outgoing heat signals. On the desk before her, Harry's hands nimbly danced around the delicate components of some motherboard, gingerly examining the damage and instinctively scrabbling to fix it. So consumed in her work was she that the blue glow of a TV screen in the next room over woke her sleeping dog before she noticed it, and only then because said dog had placed his head in her lap with some annoyance at the disruption.

The incoming transmission was worrisome, but nothing the engineer and her trusty companion could not handle. Sighing a bit at having her work interrupted, Harry stood, stretched, and went about patrolling the entryways to her home, making sure each latch was firmly closed, and all of the windows were covered. She climbed the stairs to her room and retrieved her cricket bat, then went back into the living room and grabbed an armful of equipment before heading downstairs to the basement, Diesel following obediently at her heels the entire time.

The basement had the majority of Harry's work and tools; she had only taken up shop in the living room earlier because the lighting was better. It was a well-fortified space, with no windows, a secondary entrance with sensors outside to detect zombie movement, and thick, concrete walls. Struggling to walk with her arms full, the braided woman shuffled over to a desk and dumped everything onto it, wincing as she heard a crack. "There's another four hours of work," she muttered, and though ordinarily the prospect would have excited her, the interruption had broken her productivity. It was probably best- Harry realized that she hadn't eaten in a day or so. She was starving.

Padding upstairs and into the kitchen, Harriet rummaged around for some crackers and found a box in the cupboard. She tossed one to Diesel, and started back toward the basement stairs; without warning, a few shouts outside made her freeze in her tracks. It sounded like the zombies had found someone, or someones, who were now struggling to fend them off. "What do you think, Dees? Worth the risk?" she asked her canine companion, who hefted a sigh; that was Diesel, always on top of the comedic timing. "Right. Stay here, please." Harry ran upstairs to her room and wiggled into her khaki jumpsuit, stomped her steel-toed boots on, and sprinted back into the basement where her armory of half-finished weapons lay. After a moment of thought, she grabbed an early prototype of her phasor, hooked it onto a loop on the waist of her jumpsuit, and then turned to her dog.

"You want to come along, Diesel? It's dark and I could really use your ears." The shepherd dog wagged his tail a little, which, by Harry's interpretation, was a clear 'yes.' With a gentleness quite unlike the way she had shoved on her own clothing, the engineer fastened a thick vest onto her companion and made sure all of the buckles were appropriately tight. Diesel had never failed her out there in the open; he had been trained to distract zombies for long enough for her to smash their heads in, and together they formed a dynamite team. "Alright, kiddo. Let's get out there."[/dash]
 
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Outskirts;Streets
"Dude, so are we done here? I think that, with the hundreds of locks we've got everywhere, we'll be pretty safe, you know, as long as we don't do anything incredibly stupid," Wait, what did he just say? The Canadian fellow spoke far too quickly for Cédric to really follow. Granted, he knew very little English compared to most. Given the fact he didn't learn it before the incident with that sassy cow. Of course you could never usually outdo a native English speaker in addition. Tristan being someone he figured either learned the language easily or was born into it. He couldn't remember the younger male's backstory. It still takes him a while to recall he was from Canada and not elsewhere. It didn't help English was such a dominant language. Maple leaf lover could be from anywhere that included that accent.

"Christ, man, you're not going to run out there alone and get eaten by a ton of zombies so you can check on your horse!" His family's Christianity made Cédric a bit unhappy with the wording. Granted, he was one who refused to curse in any language. So long as he knew what he was saying that is. There will likely be a day when someone tries to teach him a phrase that would make his loved ones role in their grave. Assuming they had graves at all. On his face remains the stern appearance he had adapted. There was no way that he'd leave Maxi up to the unknown, figuring Tristan sounded of complaining in his tone. This changed into a smile of both relief and appreciation. Although he had no idea that his roommate cared so much, this quickly changed as he decided to go along.

He followed the male to his best ability, taking in his body language as well as listening to what parts of the language he had known. There was no intervening between the two, the macho and the runaway. His goal was to get to his horse. If they wanted to stay or leave it was up to them. Any arguments over it didn't feel as though it was Cédric's fault. People were going to do what they wanted to do, he wasn't going to stop them. Unless it felt too dangerous. But nothing was too risky to assure him his mare was well. Also, being the person with the bright idea to go out to check on a horse while there are deadly zombies out and about was his idea. Of course there was no flaws in it to him.

"Vielen Dank mein Freund," Spoke the native Belgian. At this point they were out the door and ready to get going. He wanted to take a moment and give a thanks for sticking by his side. Even though Tristan more likely than not didn't want to get involved with anything to do with this situation. He actually knew what to say in his friend's language. However chose not to. Hey, he was trying to learn, no? Also he wasn't 100% positive if it'd come out correct. He had troubles with "th" sounds sometimes.


Tristan and Cédric were headed off. Cédric lead the way with shotgun tightly gripped in his hands. They were making their way inwards. Inwards was always the safer place to go. Even though it's not as easy to get there. Still, there are likely to be more reinforcement if you go towards the more important parts of the area. Thus they became a better place to keep a horse. Despite the threat of it being taken away from him. It's best for her to be taken away alive than for her ever to become a horrible, pained, undead mutant. Who knows who or what they may meet on the streets as they progress. Only footsteps and whispers were sounded between the two of them thus far.

Shirt Status: On

​

​
 
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Andrew Jackson
Location: Streets - Sect. 17

NPC Cast
[spoili]

Sergeant (OR-5)
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? Clarke

Private First Class (OR-3)
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Rene ?
? Schultz

Senior Private (OR-2)
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Edwin Raines

Private (OR-2)
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Byron Kimball
Richie ?

Not all ranks are factual.

Weapons
[spoili]

G47
[spoili]
latest
[/spoili]

HK416
[spoili]
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[/spoili]

XM11
[spoili]
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[/spoili]

Not all weapons are factual.[/spoili]

[/spoili]
​

Outside the front of an office building, near the railing of the sidewalk, Andrew sat with legs hanging over a ledge. Below him the lower level of the city was shrouded in a fog of darkness. Head lightly tilted, he could see outlines of structures below, but his eyes were fixated elsewhere. Across the gap, on the side of a building, there was rapid movement as a lone mutant zombie scurried across the top it. Soon disappearing behind a corner, Andrew didn't take his eyes off where it had vanished from beneath his mask nor made any attempts to move.

Staying still like this for minutes, it wasn't until he heard something behind him that he budged in order to see what it was. On the ground several feet away from him, a small flock of crows were picking at the remains of a knocked over trash bin. Fluttering its wings, one was aggressively pulling at the garbage deeply rooted within the bin with what it could manage to grip with its beak. After three or four attempts the compressed pile of trash eventually gave way, and tumbled out onto the ground. While this was occurring a lone crow stood apart from the others. Turning its head in various directions it seemed to mimic a guard keeping watch as its apparent brothers pilfered away.

It was this crow in particular that drew Andrew's interest. Watching as it performed its duty, a few minutes passed before the bird took notice of his watching presence. Turning its head sideways to the left it looked at Andrew for a few seconds before letting out a deep "Caw, Caw.". At this, his fellow crows stopped and looked toward their direction before quickly returning to their business. A silence passed before another set of calls sound "Caw..Caw.." except this time from behind Andrew's mask. Mixed with the damping affects of it, the sound half passed for an actual call. Perking up their heads in response the crows among the trash look to him while the guard does the same.

Exchanging looks and body language among themselves the birds soon resume before the guard takes deeper interest in Andrew. Taking a few steps toward him, it stops, before turning its head right to look directly at him. "Caw..." Andrew sounded, before he turned his head to the right, mimicking the crow. The bird perked its head at this before walking ahead, steadily bobbing its head forward. Stopping just short of him it turned its head left and right as if to check its surroundings before inspecting further. Looking down at it, the bird looked up back at Andrew. Its cold black beady eye stared into the round vacant holes of his mask. Then, abruptly and without warning the bird's head swiftly straightened before it took flight in a panic, squawking loudly.

"Relatives of yours?" came the words to Andrew's right as the crow's companions followed suit, abandoning the trash bin and flying off to land on a perch nearby. Turning to look at the disturbance, a man in military fatigues was standing a few feet away. He looked to be in his very early twenties as his face was not scarred by accident nor age. He had a smirk on his face which disappeared as Andrew sat there staring up at him for some time without a word. From behind his mask he was scanning the man. Noticing the Luxembourg patch designating him as a Private, the G47 loosely held in his hands, his bad posture, lazy eyelids, and masculine facial features. All were obvious signs to Andrew that the man was a buffoon, of which he rarely got along well with.

After the extended silence and the man began showing signs of confusion, Andrew replied with "You could say that." before turning away to pull his legs from the railing in order to stand. The truth of those words would go unrecognized as a band of five people in similar clothing soon joined the two. The one in front leading the others had an air of seriousness about him that was supported by his posture and stoic expression. It didn't take seeing the Sergeant patch for Andrew to know he was their squad leader.

Though, despite this, his face didn't match well with his outer exterior. He was in his mid twenties, only a handful of years older than the Private next to Andrew. His clean shaved face did little to help him seem older, nor his light and friendly toned voice when he spoke. "Private Jackson?" Andrew nodded at the obvious question. "It's good to see you're in one piece. Sergeant Clarke." he promptly introduced himself before tilting his head lightly to those behind him. "Squad 4."

Taking a glimpse at their equipment, Andrew observed the HK416 sported by the Sergeant as well as the XM11 handled by the man behind him and to his right. The man in question had a young face much like the others, but his was more strongly defined. A sharp jawline, heavy eyebrows, and intense blue eyes which were focused on scanning their surroundings. Similar to the Private, but far more symmetrical. The man to the Sergeant's left was holding a G47. Possessing a much rounder face compared to the rest, it didn't lack in focus as he watched the exchange between Andrew and his Sergeant. He had a far better hold on his weapon, but oddly the name "Edwin Raines" was visibly printed on his fatigues. Most likely a leftover used to substitute the need to produce more.

"You have any luck spotting the Parent?". the Sergeant asked after introducing the squad. Andrew simply shook his head once from right to left and back. "Well, probably for the best." He said with a nod. Looking briefly to the side at the buildings before them, his eyes moved left to right as if searching and expecting to see the Parent appear any moment, before adding. "You'd be in trouble if spotted alone." Looking across the gap and at where the lone zombie had been before, Andrew commented "There's few stragglers around. Climbing the buildings. Two headed in the way you just came from a few moments ago."."We didn't see any on the way here." remarked the Private in half protest.

Turning his mask to face him Andrew answered. "Yeah. They tend to get careful near the Parent." Looking to his Sergeant for confirmation the man acknowledged the fact in silent agreement before sternly lecturing him. "Why I told you not to advance ahead earlier." As the Private looked away slightly embarrassed the Sergeant's attention turned back to Andrew as he asked. "Where last did you hear it?" Turning ninety degrees Andrew pointed toward the remainder of Sector 17. "About two blocks or so southwest. I haven't heard it since."

"Hmm, may have changed sects without you noticing... Okay, we'll comb this sect and the next one over. Jackson, we could use your eyes in back, so I want you covering the rear." Looking to the Private he sternly added. "You'll join him." Turning around, the Sergeant instantly summoned the attention of everyone before saying. "Listen up. We're going after a Parent, and while we've done this before we've never been this short handed. I want you all alert and to notify everyone of anything you suspect. Got it?"

With a resounding "Sir." the band of soldiers replied in full. "Where's the rest of your squad?" Andrew asked as the Sergeant turned back round. "With the corporal. We had to break on our way here, another request for support. There's been talk of a second Parent with the amount of schools running around, but no confirmation yet." With nothing further to say or ask, Andrew headed for the back of the group as it started its advance forward, deeper into the sector.

Taking notice of the remaining squad members, there was a blonde haired woman who appeared the most athletic of the bunch. A Private First Class by her uniform with braided hair hanging down from the back of her helmet. She had a sharp face and carried herself with a manner similar to that of the Sergeant. Accompanying her was another Private, but one that displayed more discipline in the way he carried his rifle and walked. He had large cheeks and a broad forehead that shown lightly below his helmet. His fatigues like the Senior Private had a name "Byron Kimball" printed on them.

Simply taking note of these details, Andrew remained silent as they began roaming the empty streets of Sector 17. The hum of electricity and sound of boots walking across pavement followed them everywhere. Passing neon sign after neon sign, the light cast by them seemed the primary source of illumination aside from the few street lights left aglow. Metros, malls, electronic stores and restaurants passed them by as they searched the public routes with little success. The only hint at the Parent was from the occasional lurking zombie that popped its head out from a building in the distance. After an hour or so, the focused attitudes of the team began to wain as comfort set into those less experienced.

Transitioning from public routes to back alleys and unmarked passages the available light all but vanished and the group was forced to resort to flashlights in order to see. Despite being in the same general vicinity the presence of the undead was drastically more profound in these areas as the sound of nails scraping wood and stone sporadically echoed off the walls. After clearing through several of these they spotted their first undead as it leapt out from behind a trash bin. Quickly retreating, it jumped onto the nearby wall in an instant and scurried away. Raising his G47 at it the Private took aim to shoot.

"Don't bother, it's a waste of your rounds." Came the voice of Edwin near the front in a tone lower than the Sergeants.

"Why?"

"We're here for the Parent not them. You'll only scare it."

"Wouldn't that be good? I mean, it'd bring the big one to us."

"That or cause it to run away."

"Well then, wouldn't the small ones alert it after just spotting us?" ... ...

"You really ought to pay attention more during the briefings Richie. It doesn't work like that." Byron commented with a slight British accent.

"Then how does it work?"

"Guys, we don't have time for this. Focus on the mission, come on." Interrupting their conversation the woman with the braids tried to reclaim their lost focus. Seemingly getting through, the next twenty minutes had them clearing the alleyway and moving on to the next in silence. However, it wasn't long before Richie started talking once again.

"So, where you from Jackson? I was staying in France till shit hit the fan." ... ...

As Richie looked to him expectantly Andrew reluctantly answered. "Germany."

"You too? Schultz is from Germany as well. Though, doesn't speak much English. You know German?" ... ...

"Ja."

"Ah, cool. I bet you and Schultz would have a lot to talk about. Think you could teach me something to say in German?" ... ...

"Lassen Sie mich allein."

"Lassen.. Sie mich.. allein. What's it mean?" ... ...

"It means. Leave me alone." said the blue eyed man from earlier with a chuckle. His strong accent giving away his German heritage.

Brow furrowing lightly Richie seemed to register the hint, but tried not to take it personally. Doing as asked he faced forward finally as they continue walking. From the front the Sergeant turned to look briefly at the exchange while the others scanned the walls of the dark alleyway. As they finished up combing Sector 17 and then 18 they came to rest at an area between them. Puzzled yet not deterred Sergeant Clarke planned to have them comb Sector 17 once more.

"There's been no new reports so either its still here and we missed it or it's gone by now. We'll scour Sect. 17 once more and call it quits if we don't find anything. Schultz take point. Edwin, Byron you'll cover his flanks." With this the Sergeant headed to the back of the group. "You're behind us Richie." said Byron after noticing the slight lost look to his face. Taking their positions they formed a double arrow formation (< <) with Richie in the middle. As Andrew attended to the Sergeant's left flank in the back, the group approached a back alley they'd previously visited. With no lighting, it was pitch black save for the illumination surrounding its two entrances.

From what could be seen by the use of their head lights, the ground was littered with boxes and pieces of loose trash. Still damp from the previous days of rain, they were joined by small puddles that collected at the sides of the walls. Above them, a web of insulated power lines and clotheslines could be scarcely seen through the darkness. Nearly a copy of before, they proceeded through it in a similar fashion. Stepping around and over the various clothes scattered across the ground, they paid little attention to them as they neared midpoint of the alley.

Feeling something was off, by habit Andrew began inspecting his surroundings. Unsure of whether it was his imagination, he felt the clothes on the ground had increased. Along with this he noticed pieces of rubble scattered about that he thought surely hadn't been there before. Taking his attention off the ground and to the walls he discovered cracks of various size running down the length of them. Tracing them up with the glow of his helmet, he soon found their source in the shape of giant holes dotting the area. Looking between them he realized they appeared in pairs, higher and higher until it became impossible to see for the darkness.

His actions don't go unnoticed as the Sergeant soon asked. "What is it?" "The walls." he answered, scanning directly above them. Noticing a faint pulse of yellow lights in the distance he stopped and yelled "Above!". One flashlight then soon almost all of them rapidly focused on the spot. Appearing out of the darkness, the Parent seemed to be floating as it hanged above their heads among the mess of wires. Once noticed it growled before its tentacles lit up yellow. Retracting from within the walls the behemoth instantly plummeting toward the ground threatening to crush them with its weight.
 
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Had it been any other dead creature roaming the house, young Nadia would have been safe. Safe enough until the surrounding sectors were cleared and the parent taken out. However, the nimble hungry creatures bared their teeth at the slight sense of that oh so delicious heat. Locked in her attic safe house, Nadia might as well be hidden in plain sight.
And slowly, the injured creature regained itself now Vera was gone. Once more it inspected its surroundings, making its wind-like sound as it went. Though its call wasn't answered, it soon locked on to its target. A bright little body emanating warmth from the attic.
It soon arrived, its claws clicking their way closer and closer, letting the little girl know. The question was, how long would it take for it to reach her behind closed locked doors.
@Wingless_Angel
 

The creature lunged forward with Antoinette's sudden movement. The door opened and as the bat swung forward the creature dove into it, mouth open. Antoinette's swing had been hard enough to jam it into the fanged mouth but not enough to knock the creature out. Still, the creature was pushed back, bat thoroughly caught between its powerful jaws. The nimble zombie flung its head about, attempting to rid itself of the wooden tool but it was useless.
Antoinette had lost her bat, but she had gained some time. On the roof and near the back entrance the creatures rushed in, letting out that chilling wind-like cry. The hunt was on.
@harleygore
@Lackluster
 
Location: Streets > Mihail's Place

While the cop gave the little monster the finishing blow, Rómulo struggled to his feet. His left shoulder was scraped and bleeding, the hoodie ripped and useless now. The right side of his abdomen was badly bruised, and the pain in his leg was bad. He awkwardly limped his way towards the latecomer, who looked familiar but the disheveled getup was throwing Rómulo off.

"We'll take cover in his house," he called back to Vitali, noting the cop wasn't hurrying to help him walk. Probably another one of those fight-loving survival-type loners. Typical. Rómulo sighed judgmentally, "I'm Rómulo Seung by the way. Just some programmer who has no business being out in the streets. Not that I was out here by choice... What do I call you two?" he asked just as he limped his way past Mihail, heading towards the open door of his house uninvited. He was tired and stunned and his usual polite and professional approach was forgotten for his honest self. He was still in shock. The situation hadn't quite sank in, the fact that he'd just survived that compiled with the fact that it had been so long since he'd last faced that type of life-dead situation. This Lux thing was bullshit. Sure, it was safe and followed some semblance of society but he almost missed the days when he could outrun the dead or even maneuver around them. Back then all he had to do was aim and swing and that was usually good enough to off the stinkers! But it wasn't just that, he now realized, now that he'd found himself running for his life... alone.

Rómulo had felt himself shake from fear before, but he had always had familiar company. Some very reliable people he hadn't had around after settling in Lux. At least now he wasn't alone, though he couldn't vouch for the reliability of his current companions. For one thing, the cop reminded Rómulo too much of some very shady men he'd met in his past. The guy in sandals, on the other hand, had bothered to walk out of safety to help even if he'd done it too late. That was something.

"Oh right," he suddenly turned back to face Vitali, "thanks for saving my face." Rómulo limped through the house door brushing back his damp black hair, suddenly feeling the cold wind made colder by his own sweat. He dropped onto a couch at an awkward and unnatural looking position but it seemed to hurt less that way. He knew his housemate would have accused him of posing for a camera that wasn't there... his eyes watered at the thought and he bit on the inside of his cheek just to hold himself together.

@Drifter
@Malfis
 
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[fieldbox=Streets , Goldenrod, Dashed, 10"] Siemen ran around the streets toward where the announcement said the zombie outbreak had happened. After Saorise and Dallis had took off, the Sergeant on duty had come into the bunker, and of course he had been the one to get in trouble, not only for yelling, but also for "letting the two bitches escape." After chewing him out, the sergeant had handed Siemen a gun and an extra case of bullets and had kicked him and told him to "bring the two shit heads back and don't come back until you do." and to "shoot em in the leg if you have to." And so, poor Siemen, had been ejected onto the streets, still in his sleepwear. The Sergeant had barely given him time to put on his boots and and a shirt. There was no telling where the two girls had went, so Siemen had spent the last little while walking around the area where the school was supposed to be located, but not actually getting particularly close. Just when he was about to give up and wait for them to come back near the bunker, he happened to spot Andrew Jackson's group further down the street in an alley. Since it was dark, he couldn't tell how many people there were, but he could see the light from their flashlights. They were too busy talking to each other to notice him standing on the street outside the alley.

Siemen started to walk towards them, intending to ask if they had seen Saorise and Dallis (their bright hair was hard to miss after all) but suddenly stopped short. He had noticed the parent on the building above them and had frozen in fear. Not only that, the alleyway they was being collapsed on by zombies. For a moment Siemen didn't move, but the sight of the Parent dropping down on the group made him immediately turn and run the opposite direction away from them.

"Nope. Nope. Nope. Not today." Siemen said as he ran away. A couple of the collapsing zombies had noticed him and one chased him, which he shot a couple times in the head, but didn't look back to see if Jackson's group had survived. He had nothing but a handgun, and was wearing no protective clothing. There was no way he could help or anything, he'd just get in the way. His running led him to none other Cedric and Tristan, who were both in the process of checking on Cedric's horse. Oh great. Civilians. Siemen though to himself as he neared them. Wait, what? What the hell are they doing out here??

"What the hell are you doing? The parent is literally 3 streets down!" He asked them as he neared. "I'm with the armed forces. Get back inside." Ah, how Siemen must have looked, wearing nothing but a white t-shirt and boxer shorts along with his steel-toed boots. At least he had a gun. [/fieldbox]
 
[fieldbox="Outskirts;Streets > Stables, #50EBEC, dotted, 5, Courier"]
code #50ebec​
The air was refreshingly cool compared to the inside of the house. Not that he ever noticed that until he left. It was amazingly easy to get used to things. For example, after living in Luxembourg so long, Tristan was quite used to staying indoors once the darkness came. It was much, much darker than he thought it'd be, as if he had a blindfold over his eyes. Still, he'd listened, and didn't think he heard much more than a breeze, and Cédric's words that Tristan only mostly understood.

Tristan was just glad that Cédric was leading. Otherwise, he'd most certainly have tripped or walked into a tree. As it was, he walked almost backwards, scanning for any shifts in the darkness, while staying just close enough to Cédric(he hoped) that he wouldn't end up walking back into one of those creatures. It would be a long walk to take backwards though. Tristan didn't really understand why Cédric kept a pet like that. Of course, the only animals he'd ever kept with him alive was two beagles his family had, both of whom died long before the virus came about. Maybe if he had a cute pet with him still, he wouldn't be able to just abandon it(or better yet, use it as bait and run). But at the very moment, animals were mostly important for getting good food and little else.

"Cedge, inner city is safe," Tristan urged in the very best German he could do(so, with a terrible accent and probably incorrect words half the time). He was trying to get across the fact that Cédric's horse was much safer than they currently were, and really why couldn't Gaston had just let them all sleep and have nice dreams of chasing zombies? If he'd done that, Tristan would be sleeping comfortably. Oh well. Hey, they'd be seeing a cute horse! He'd try to make the best of it. As luck would have it though, Tristan didn't notice any zombies on their travels, though he heard the sounds of those who were fighting them. Closer than he'd been hoping for. "Hurry, Ceddy," he urged, his grip on his weapon ever so tight as he continued to observe for the zombies that sounded, to him, to be practically right beside him. He almost cheered when they reached the make-shift stable in which they kept the horse.

"Maxwellll, have you been a good horse?" whispered Tristan, very gladly switching back to English when he addressed the horse. He felt around the wall by the horse's silhouette, until his hand closed around a cold cynlinder. Thank the lord. Pulling the flashlight from the hook from which it hung, Tristan flicked it on, illuminating a the ground in front of him. What glory is was to be able to see more than shadows again. Some day he'd be smart enough to take a flashlight with him on the journey.

Tristan waited for Cédric to finish whatever he was going to do here---apparently seeing the horse still there was no enough reassurance---humming a quiet tune. His back to the wall of the stable, the light bouncing along the ground as he waved it from side to side, Tristan felt much calmer than he had just a little while ago. Of course, that was when he heard the footsteps. He was on guard in a flash, turning the flashlight in the direction of the sound, his crowbar held up just in case a zombie came ambling down the path. Just as quickly, however, he relaxed, once he saw a red-haired man in the strangest zombie-fighting getup he'd seen come up.

The man spoke quickly, or so it appeared to Tristan, who had yet to grasp German well enough to understand everything he said. He did, however, understand enough to know that this guy was part of the armed forces, and the they were, indeed, close to the parent.

"You're dressed strange," Tristan told the man in his faulty German, laughter in his voice as he spoke. Tristan, at least, had been lazy and worn his street clothes to sleep, so at best he looked a bit wrinkled. Still, what kind of person on the armed forces walked around looking like they'd just gotten out of bed? Some professionalism, please. "We will take care of the horse then go home," he continued. Hey, he couldn't leave without Cédric, and he didn't think that Cédric would leave without being sure his horse was safe. Tristan couldn't help the fact that he was disobeying the guy. Still, he looked over at his housemate, and said, "Let's go home, Ceddy." [/fieldbox]​
 
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[fieldbox="Ruud -|- Location: Apartment, red, solid, 10"]


"Gem," Ruud poked his housemate. As if he actually did not want to wake her up which was exactly the case, but knowing that he had to do so. "Gem," he said again though this time giving her a light push. Again, she did not even budge an inch, so inhaling Ruud would push the female. "Gem, wake up! It's an emergency!"

An emergency it was. The television had turned off right after he had rushed to get dressed, but that did not mean that the threat was over. In fact, Ruud would be assuming that the threat was only beginning. Luckily the television that broadcasted the alert was in his room, and not his housemates room. It was good that he was not a sound sleeper in this day and age though that being something that he had even before the disaster. Looking to the door Ruud roughly pushed Gem once more in case she did not heed his words the first time he yelled them, and then headed for a housing complex that was near theirs.

There was a certain feeling that he had gotten, and even if he was not well aquainted with his neighbors he figured there was no harm in checking on them. Ruud had a few emotions running through his mind and body, but he could easily be able to pinpoint which of them dominated. Fear. Though Gem and himself were safe, and have been safe for a while there has always been a looming threat. A threat that he would never be able to shake off now that zombies lived on the planet.

Taking a deep breathe Ruud would not let himself think to much on what was possible, and would stop at the neighbors door. Before he was about to knock on the door a sound came from the other side of it. Pausing for a second he would press his ear against the door to see if the sound become a tad bit clearer, and to an extent it did. Though the noises sounded familiar Ruud could not put his finger on the sound source, and at this point his emotions leaned more towards worry. Without reconsidering if slamming the neighbors door open was a good idea Ruud would take a few steps back, and then slam his whole body agianst the door. Following that he would take a step back once again, but this time his foot would make contact with the door. The force was enough to swing the door open.

Staring at what was inside Ruud would reach for the doorknob, and shut the door as if he had never forcefully opened it. "What did I just..."

Attempting to process what had just happened he would run back to his appartment to see if Gem was awake.



[/fieldbox]
 

Outskirts;Streets

Cédric stopped paying much attention to the world around him after getting to his beloved mare. Max was safe, and for that, he was more than thankful. He gently stroked her mane as she let out a few pleasant sighs through her nose from both the affection of her owner and his companion. The Dutch man could see in the horse's eyes however the panic. A beginning of getting on edge as her animal senses kicked in. Granted, all of her senses were animal senses. I mean she was a horse after all. Then again, humans were technically animals too. In more than one way, but that wasn't the point. The point is, is that there is a tendency for non-humans to have more abilities than humans do when it comes to danger. Often it's considered just cats or dogs, but most animals had it. It was a part of their instinct, surviving as not pets but pure wild not long ago. At one point, even humans had such senses. Or so would make sense. More than just an alert by a sour stomach via gut feeling.

The former hand noticed her panic only increased as time went by as the two males scuffled around in the shed. You'd think they'd be safer here, given the lengths Cédric goes for Maxwell. However, that doesn't mean he was able to afford much. He came from a farming family, on top of not being employed at too well paying jobs. Don't expect him to have much extra cash out of paying bills and getting groceries. With what he could afford, he did get the necessary items to take care of her. Spoil her, if able. Finally, he also got a two wool blankets, to safely cover both sides of her. And yet, at this moment, that didn't feel like enough. Perhaps he could've gone if there was no signs of zombies. However, "What the hell are you doing? The parent is literally 3 streets down!"

When that happened, he felt the need to take his pet-no, companion, home. She could fit into his small room, right? At least for the night. He looked to Tristan in a serious manner, then glanced at the horse to reveal his hasty intentions. You wouldn't just leave family there, with the possibility to die, would you? He placed one of the large blankets over the horse after placing her collar rope around her. Which was actually just a tied rope at the moment, as he had his eyes on a rather fancy one he wanted to buy, however couldn't at this time. This lady deserved to look pretty. Grabbing the end, he began to pull her out and head into the streets. This left Tristan to grab the other blanket to follow. Heading back to their original point, through the streets in hopes to return home safely. The mind stuck on keeping them safe along the way. As such, he was rather jumpy.

Shirt Status: On

​
 
Location: Mihail's Place
With: Mihail, Vitali

The smell of blood filled his nostrils and suddenly the thought that it might attract more of those little monsters forced Rómulo out of the couch. He glanced at the strangers but he was too hurt, too tired, and too irritated by the life-threatening event to bother making conversation.
"I'm borrowing your restroom. Mind if I borrow some clothes too?" he asked as he limped around looking for the restroom. It didn't take long before he was in there, the water running, watching himself shake in front of the mirror. The hoodie lay in the trash bag and he was using his t-shirt to clean the bloody scrapes on his arm and shoulder. What worried him most was the limp. Somehow he'd hurt his leg bad enough that another encounter with those ugly mutations might be the end of him.

Rómulo glared at his mirror-self, and splashed some water over his face after wrapping his arm in some bandages he'd found behind under the sink. Bloodied t-shirt joined the torn hoodie just before Rómulo tied the bag shut.

"Hey," he called out, stepping back into the living room half naked, "I hope you've got food, I'll be raiding your fridge after I check out your closet. I'll pay you back when this is over." He was being rude, thugish even, that glare permanently exercised on his face. It looked good on him.

Once more he limped around until he found a room and opened the closet inside it. He hadn't bothered to pick and choose clothes when the emergency broadcasting woke him, but now he took his time looking through what was available and aimed for style. If he was going to die tonight, he was going to look good doing it dammit!

"Shit," he whispered emotionally with a chuckle, "housemates might be right after all... I might just have a date with death." Sure, he wasn't alone but, exactly how reliable could his current companions be? In fact, how safe was he in this house, when those monsters had so easily taken over his?
 
[BCOLOR=#999999]Death Round: 1[/BCOLOR]

The noise startled Antoinette. She stammered between paralysis and action, awkwardly stumbling forward. Remy, on the other hand, reacted on impulse and rushed to flee away from the night's cries. They echoed everywhere in the house. His violent push dragged Antoinette forward, swiftly waking her from her fearful stupor. She closed the door behind her by habit, and to their fortune since it slowed down the hunting progress.

Her bat was gone, trapped between the jaws of the thing struggling to howl, chase, and claw at them as they sprinted past it.

Instinct moved her legs and fear forced her eyes on Remy's tense back, watching him lead their run. It was almost surreal, the night was dark and full of terrors, and only his back seemed to be able to ground her in the fact that this was reality. It was happening.

Remy said something and her eyes watered. From the corner of her eyes she sensed it. The hunt. The chase. The cruel game.
 
[fieldbox="☾Gem ↔ Location: Apartment☽, Mediumaquamarine, dashed, 20, Book Antiqua"]I promised I would keep you safe
The world is gonna have to wait.
linebreak.png
It had been a long night for Gem. She had received a batch of torn clothing from the trainees that needed to be fixed, which added to the work from some of the other citizens of the city whose clothing was wearing and tearing. Don't get her wrong, Gem loved her job as a seamstress but the strain that an apocalypse had on clothing certainly kept her busy most days. She had been working on the clothing all night and had falling asleep against her will around 2 o'clock in the morning, head against her work desk. Ruud had told her time and time again it wasn't good for her neck to fall asleep like that but Gem had a bad habit of working until she fell asleep every time. Gem was a very heavy sleeper, something that probably should have gotten her killed on her cross-country trip to the safe zone but miraculously it didn't. Thankfully Ruud was not such a sleeper and would be awake to safe both of their hides.

It was very fortunate that Ruud was a lght sleeper, for had the tv been in Gem's room or the living room where she worked, she would not have even stirred as a emergency warning light up the screen. As it was, she didn't even stir when Ruud came nudging her nor when he called her name. It was only after he shoved her so hard she almost fell out of her chair did she awake. Head jerking up, scraps of cloth clinging to her right cheek, Gem looked around with dazed and confused eyes, curls a wild mess around her face.

"Wha-"

She looked up just in time to see Ruud rush out of the door and it took her sleepy mind a few moments to process a crashing sound that might have been Ruuds foot against the door of their neighbors house. A little more awake now, Gem rose from her chair and was on her way across the room when her housemate came rushing back inside. She fround, bright blue irises running the length of him and taking in his harried appearance.

"Ruud? What's going on? Did you just kick down the door of our neighbors house?"

Gem frowned, assuming her "mom-pose" as Ruud called it, hands planted firmly on her hips and stern looked fixed on her face as she stared at the man in front of her. If his new hobby was kicking in doors, then they needed to have a serious talk. As Gem opened her mouth to launch into a rant about how that type of action wasn't polite, a sound caught her interest. It was faint but a few months on the road hearing nothing but this sound had trained her ears to pick it up almost instantly. Face paling, Gem glanced around to locate her weapon.

"Zombies?" She questioned of her housemate.

A new thought hit her and fear spread across her face. If it was zombies, and the house that kicked was whose she thought it was, then Nadia was in trouble! Not even stopping to consider the fact that the little's girls sister might be there with her, Gem went rushing towards the door.

"I need to check on Nadia!"[/fieldbox]
@l0ckon
 
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[fieldbox=Streets, goldenrod, dashed, 10"] Siemen's could feel his face flush at Tristan's remark on his attire. He knew he looked ridiculous, but it wasn't like he could or could've done anything about it. Luckily, it was dark so no one could see his bright red face. The man with the white hair appeared to be checking up on one of the horses in the stable, but upon hearing Siemen's comment about the parent, realized the danger and started to take his horse and head home. Good. Two less civilians off the street to worry about. Wait a minute. Going home. With the horse. He was taking the horse home with him. Would the animal even fit through the door?

"Hey hey hey! Wait. You can't take the horse with you. It's against the rules. Horses are not allowed in the apartments." Siemen wasn't sure if that was an actually a rule, but it seemed reasonable enough. There was no way he could let him take his horse with him. This guy obviously loved his horse though, and there was probably no way Siemen could convince him to leave it here. He stopped to think for a moment, "How about this, I'll help you take your horse to stable further into the city where it'll be safe. Promise. In exchange, you guys have to help me. I'm looking for two redheads named Saoirse and Dallis"

Siemen really shouldn't be encouraging them to stay out on the streets any longer than they had to, but he wanted to find the Saorise and Dallis quickly and return back tot he bunker where he could either go back to bed or at least change into something else. He could only imagine the grief the two troublemakers would cause him when they saw how he was dressed.
[/fieldbox]

[fieldbox=Streets | Outside Mihail's house , limegreen, solid, 10"]Saoirse and Dallis had been running around the outskirts of the area where the report had said the school was. They didn't want to meet the parent, but they were eager to shoot up a couple of the small fries. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately?), they hadn't come across any. When they finally spotted a Rómulo (who they didn't recognize at first because he was too far away) being chased by a zombie, he was saved by someone else. Someone with brown hair and a man in pajamas. As they got closer, Saorise recognized who it was and called out to him, but by then he had already disappeared (forced his way) into the pajama'd man's home. The two of them stopped next to the zombie corpse that lay outside the building.

""Well this kind of sucks." Saoirse pouted. Lo and behold, what should appear behind Saoirse but a zombie attempting to enter Mihail's home through a window. Dallis fired two shots at it, her first one going through it's shoulder, and the second one putting a hole through the poor man's window instead and the creature scurried behind the house. "Sorry about that!" Saoirse called out as she and Dallis ran off to chase their prey
[/fieldbox]
 
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[fieldbox="Outskirts;Stables, #50EBEC, dotted, 5, Courier"]
code #50ebec​
Cédric, at least, seemed to have come out of that trance he tended to go into when it came to caring for his pet. He looked at looked from Tristan to Maxwell---oh, no. No no no. Gaston would kill them if the horse found its way into their already cramped home. "Ceddy, I don't want to die," said Tristan in as urgent a tone he could muster, as he followed the older male around. Unfortunately, Gaston never taught him the phrase, "Gaston will skin us alive and hang us up for zombie bait," in German, which was probably a much better and specific phrase to use.

Despite his quite well-founded opinion, Tristan found himself moving his flashlight into his crowbar hand and grabbing the extra horse blanket as Cédric began to leave. Seeing as he lacked the ability to convince people of anything in any language, he doubted he'd be able to get Cédric to leave his beloved horse behind, and why would you leave behind a perfectly good horse blanket? At the worst, he could throw it at a zombie and confuse it before he went at it with his crowbar. Still, it did not mean he didn't at least attempt to get Cédric to rethink things.

"Ceddy, we have no room. Gaston will be angry," whispered Tristan, like their third roommate might appear if they spoke to loud and hit him over the head with a gun. Indeed, Gaston was twice as scary when he was angry, like a frightened mother.

Perhap he'd have gone on with what horrors they would face, should they bring Maxwell into their home, but at that point the strange army man seemed to have realized what was going on. The man spoke in German however, and people always did tend to speak quicker when in a hurry. Nonetheless, Tristan managed to catch something about rules and horses. Was there a rule against horses in homes? Did such a thing happen enough that an actual rule had to be put in place against it? In any case, Tristan looked triumphantly at Cédric, a look that said something akin to, See, I told you so, although for all he knew, he interpreted what the man said completely wrong and he was just telling him how much horses ruled.

The man continued to speak even after that though, and Tristan took more care to listen to his words. Horse stables, farther in, yes, yes, in exchange for… "Oh! I know those too!" said Tristan with a grin. He paused for a second, and decided it best to reiterate the sentence in German: "Hey, I know them. Did they go look for zombies?" That sounded like something Dallis and Saorise would do. Not that, of course, he'd taken much time to keep catching up with them. They had little in common besides a shared journey, you know.

Tristan nudged Cédric, though it could easily have been mistaken as an accidental brush, what with all that blanket covering his arm. "Ceddy, it's a good deal," he said. An adventure in exchange for the safety of a horse, sounded like a win-win to Tristan. Of course, he hadn't been all too eager to leave his house, but it was really quite nice out, it'd be a shame to go back indoors so quickly.

Tristan looked to the armyboy, giving a goofy salute with the shiny silver crowbar, his flashlight casting a light over his dark locks. "Count me in!" he said. He'd probably go whether or not Cédric agreed, and whether or not this guy changed his mind. Tristan had just enough of reckless idiot in him to go looking for two girls at zombie-filled night with a weird man in boxer shorts who claimed to be in the armed forces.[/fieldbox]​
 
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[BCOLOR=#999999]Death Round: 1[/BCOLOR]

Antoinette's heart was pumping in her ears. The rhythm of it seemed to put things into perspective it seemed, since she found her mind clearing and her senses beginning to be back in her control. Most other types of zombies would have immediately had her fighting instinct kicking in, but the earlier attack had been so sudden and there was nothing like a school to send you into a panicked shock. Those things on their own weren't too hard to kill if you could handle their acrobatics, and she could, but as a coordinated unit it was damn near impossible. Suddenly, she realized something and quickly called to Remy.

"Hey! Remy! Stop!" she slowed only when he began to listen and both of them looked around to check for safety. As they stood there, catching their breath, both of them could hear the howls. The rotting predators were closing in on them and it was hard to figure out where the sounds where coming from.
"Remy, we're going to have to fight out of this one," she said determinedly. This is what she lived for. Fighting was her game and she wouldn't let these ugly creatures beat her at it! "We can't take em all at once so we'll have to lure them somewhere they can't surround us."

Remy still couldn't believe what was happening, but Antoinette's fighting calm helped get his mind into following her smart survival mode. "I'm sorry Antoinette," was the usual first response out of him, "sorry, I couldn't do anything but run. Now we're outside, I'm so sorry. I don't even have a weapon with me...." He was politely facing her straight on, his head slightly lowered in his continual apology. "I remember talking to a soldier about schools of zombies, I'm sorry I don't know much. I wish I could be of more help... but I remember she said schools stay near the parent. If we just figure out where the parent is, we can run in the opposite direction.

They both stared at each other for a minute. A frighteningly loud howl came from the building next to them and Antoinette grabbed Remy's hand and pulled him back into a run. "Keep an eye out for anything we can use as a weapon! Let's hope we're running in the right direction"
@harleygore
@Lackluster
 
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Outskirts;Streets

"Ceddy, I don't want to die," The man heard the words of his roommate, but failed to really understand why they were chosen. In his mind, they'd be all the more safe, rather than end up as zombie bait. However, he did not consider Gaston. There was no consequence in his mind at the moment. If it'd ever gotten to the point where it turned out Tristan was right (as he would be) he would only continue to defend his actions. You don't come between a man and his horse. Even if you're Gaston. Surely though, that might end in a bad place with both of the men he came home to on a daily basis. Not that he actually stopped to ponder the possibility of the obvious future. This was the moment, the time he cared most given the danger. That was, until he heard the previous speaker pipe up once more. This time, greatly quieter, "Ceddy, we have no room. Gaston will be angry"

At this, facial features visibly shifted. They merged into a look that appeared as a confusing mix of emotion. His brows furrowed in frustration, as if a light touch of anger graced his heart. Though there was no reason to honestly be mad at the fellow for being honest with him. It still bothered him, as he wanted to protect Max. Thus, his lips formed a firm purse, a visible pout fading into the ends of each side. Blue eyes were glossed over. Not in that he wasn't listening, it was that he did not desire to. It was upsetting to think of just letting his precious animal go. There was no way, it was far too painful. In a way, it almost felt like deception that Tristan would try to stop him. Didn't he understand how much this mare meant to him? This deceit ended up feeling complete when the younger man had given him such a triumphant look at Cédric when the stranger spoke.

Initially, Cédric paid no mind to the man whom had approached him. He could hear the demands, but they just didn't matter to him to put it simply. "Hey hey hey! Wait. You can't take the horse with you. It's against the rules. Horses are not allowed in the apartments." There was little, or rather no, concern as to whether this was true or not. Then again, there was no intellectual reasoning in his actions. He practically blocked the matter out as he continued to head onward. Knowing that Max would be safe by his side. That was his only duty, to protect her. Perhaps Tristan as well for tagging along. Well, formerly. If his horse meant a lot to someone, then by all means did Cédric find them worthy. Which sounds all high and mighty, but was just a matter of family. This was his family, his horse, and thus if they liked her and she liked them, then it was all good in his standards. Clearly his roommate was once figured to be one of those people. Gaston not so much.


"How about this, I'll help you take your horse to stable further into the city where it'll be safe. Promise. In exchange, you guys have to help me. I'm looking for two redheads named Saorise and Dallis," At this, the farm boy wasn't very phased. Honestly, what happens if the stable gets breached? Clearly something happened for them to reach this far. Relatively closer to the inside in the outskirts area. He'd feel much safer with his Maxwell by his side even then. Possibly, it may have also been a pride thing. Not wanting to be told what he could do with her or what he couldn't. Especially when it came to an unknown place that he'd not once checked out. It was decided to stay completely silent as Cédric interacted with the geared person. A bout of ever increasing stress bothering him too much to intervene with some sort of reply. He just wanted to get home, honestly. That's what he would prefer.

"Ceddy, it's a good deal," How was he supposed to know if she'd be comfortable there? It would be so foreign. It might spook her. But then, she did need her rest. Perhaps if it was inward more she might more richly, somewhere more deserving. Cédric is and was by no means a thinker. However, when it came to his beloved horse, of course he'd have to put some use of his brain to weigh his options.

"Count me in!" Traitor.

"O.K." Clearly he was not very happy by his tone. If it didn't involve something so personal at the moment, a much more welcoming attitude would've been in his response. Then movement was still as the army person or whatever they were, had been waited on to catch up. Thoughts of anger filling the usually polite farm boy's head against the two of them. Especially Tristan.


Shirt Status: On



 
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[fieldbox="Ruud -|- Location: Apartment, red, solid, 10"]


Before he was able to say anything to Gem a faint noise had caught her attention. Dang, he thought as he wanted to explain the situation a dfferent way. Then again, it may have been for the best as he wasn't able to muster up anything that wouldn't have her doing what she was about to do. As she made her way to the door Ruud grabbed her arm. Whether she resisted or not was up to her. "Gem, why do you think I went over there?" He restrained from shouting though was two seconds away from doing so. Looking into her eyes if she allowed him to he would continue. "All I saw were-" Abruptly looking down he hesitated. "Those things..." but then looked back up at her. "If Nadia is still in there then we need to proceed with caution." Letting go of his companions arm Ruud began walking to his room. "If we're going to see if Nadia is there then we both need our weapons. After all, we can't be knight in shinning armours if we're dead."

The last bit was meant to be a small joke, but he wasn't able to laugh at it. Though he wasn't in a laughing mood he did wonder why he was so calm.

Calm.

After seeing his worst nightmare...Walking into his room he would grab the red lancer that stood against the wall, and then kicked a few garments that lay on the floor to the side. Walking back out he would wait for Gem to grab her things, and then would head back out toward their neighbor Nadia's house. He recalled Gem telling him that Nadia had a sister at one point, and wondered if she was in the house as well. They would find out soon enough either way. "You stay back while I distract the zombies," Ruud didn't look back as he talked. "Once I have them distracted you sneak in. I'm going to try and steer them away room by room, so be quick in searching."



[/fieldbox]

@Wingless_Angel
 
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