The Long and Dreary day

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Reiyd, Jun 22, 2012.

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  1. OOC: Yes, I know. ANOTHER zombie thread. To be honest I love zombies and the other ones here aren't the same style I'd be going for. I want realistic, as much as it can be. If you use a power I prefer it not be magic based, like an extra sense or enhanced physical prowess, but you can use magic type abilites as long as they aren't uber powerful. Now for some IC!

    Marcus' feet slapped the plain, dusty concrete repeatedly. His heart was pounding in his chest, making his neck feel tight as he choked for breath. With each step his feet ached more and more. He begged himself not to collapse in the street. He begged himself not to die. The groans of the damned creatures echoed through the empty streets and made him feel surrounded, even though he was relatively safe. His dry hair slapped in his face against the wind, and he spat it out for the nth time. It's golden color now resembled that of dried out wheat, from his lack of housing and therefore; running water. Marcus finally stumbled across an alley full of trash and fell on his knees, panting. He could hear and feel his heart beat in his head. His mouth hung open as he gasped for breath. He couldn't move for several minutes, and when he did, he felt utterly weak. Then, a low rumbling groan resounded from in front of him and he stood bolt upright. Instead of taking his chances, he turned to climb up the fire escape stairs up to the top of the apartment building. Marcus sighed as his shoes tapped the rusty black metal stairs endlessly. Once on top, he laid down in his orange and white-striped lawn chair and tried fruitlessly to catch some sleep, his heartrate finally slowing. His hair was now the color of wet sand and matted to his forehead.
  2. I lay silently in a bed of the apartment building, with eyes closed, taking every breath as if its my last. My dyed sliver hair lays around me, in just a plain white sleeveless shirt in my black cargo shorts, that clings to me with dirt and small stains of blood. But then I sit straight up, eyes wide, hearing echos outside. Getting out of bed with my hair up in a high pony-tail, putting on my black combat boots, out the apartment holding my sledgehammer. I start walking up the stairs getting to the top seeing a chair, as well seeing a person. Gripping on hammer putting it behind my head ready to swing when necessary. "Hey!" i call out. "you human or what?"
  3. Marcus spazzed at the sound of a human voice and contorted into a pure look of "WHAT THE HELL?!". He stared for a second, heart pounding and then groans. "I was so close to falling asleep..." He teared up a little, childishly. Knowing he could no longer hope to sleep, he stretched out his painfully sore limps and then slumped. "Yup. All human." He looked at her through half lidded and slightly upset eyes, scratching his back as he murmured his response. "What's your name?" He asked in a very meek fashion, his voice soft but carried by the big empty space. His sapphire eyes were dark and the slightest bit dull. His scrawny limbs were covered in tiny knicks and scratches he'd acquired around town.
  4. I sigh in relief and looks at him. Nervously put down my Sledgehammer. "Its Carly. Uh hey, you alright you don't look too good." Causally getting closer to him. Grip tightly on my weapon in case. 'He doesn't look good at all.' I think to myself. 'Could he have gotten bitten?' Fake smiling at him, not wanting to trust him until i made sure he wasn't bitten or some thief.
  5. "Of course I'm not okay. I've been trying to find a decent shower for weeks, and my only protection is a dinky little hand gun. Plus, I haven't gotten much sleep for the last month." He grumbled quietly. With a soft sigh he sat down on his chair, head in hands. "Would you happen to have any food on you?" His question came out in the form of a meep, and he bashfully pointed to a half-eaten bag of stale potato chips. "That's not really a healthy diet..."
  6. Looks at him a bit sad. "Ye-yea i do, and lucky for you, have something for you to sleep in and to at least wash up." After said I look at you playfully smile at you wanting to see your face.
  7. For once he got some good news. He looked up and peeled the damp hair from his face and smiled shyly. "That's really kind of you Carly. Where are you staying?" He stood up slowly, legs wobbling. He was weak from malnourishment and exhausted. With a sigh, he wiped his sweaty forehead and attempted to spit the bad taste out of his mouth.
  8. Walking over quickly, helping him for support if needed. But still cautious. "Come on ill help you," I say. "the room isn't far." Helping him down the stairs on probably the fourth floor walking into the same apartment room, closing the door tightly and locking it. Carefully setting him on the bed, I walk straight in to the small kitchen. The tiles are white but dirtied up with same, plain tan painted walls as the apartment. Searching through a top cabinet finding just one thing that catches my eye: soup. Pouring it into a bowl placing it next to you. "I'm sorry if its not enough," I start sadly. "ill get some more if it doesn't make you full."
  9. Marcus sighed happily at the sight of real food. "N-no! Thank you!" He thanked her, again bashful. "It'll be plenty, I've been starving forever." He was about to eat when he paused. "Do... Do you have a spoon I could use?" His legs now trembled as they hung over the end of the bed and he laid himself down to prevent himself from fainting.
  10. Cyprus (open)


    It was the loudest and most terrified scream she could muster, which was exactly what she was aiming for. Any lower and someone may not have heard her. For starters, she had no idea where she was, she just knew that she ran. Ran up a flight of stairs. Ran pasta carcass filled and caked with insects. Ran past a moan that was the complete opposite of s asexual exhale. She had ran. Her legs could only push so far, storming around hall after hall in search for some sort of shelter. Cyprus had no idea where she was or how she was to get out. All she had known was that she had flew head first into an open door. The inside was dark and desolate, sure, but it was better to be engulfed in darkness than mawed on by teeth.

    The idea sounded good at the time...

    "Help me! Please! Someone get me OUTTA HERE!" Her plan turned out...not so good. There were bangs, mutters, and groans on the opposite side of the door she had barred tight, and she knew what lay behind those doors. Surly, her doom. A bead of sweat gathered at the edge of her brown, dripping down from her long black hair. Her eye-liner had now turned into faded black shadows around her eyes as she bit her lip in desperation each time the door was banged. Each and every time the undead got closer.

    "HELP ME!!!"
  11. Randy pulled the stock back on his M1911 and loaded his last magazine. He'd just finished clearing out an old house for rent, two seniors and a grandson. He had small splatters of blood on his coat and an uneasy mind, not the best kind of condition for a zombie outbreak, especially when you're rocking one last magazine for your gun. Any slip ups, any sudden mistake could prove fatal. He was so freaked out because he was just graduating from the police academy. You'd still assume he'd be tougher than this. But he's never seen someone's intestines pulled out right in front of him.
  12. Marcus froze as his soup rippled. Even dampened by the many layers of cloth beneath it, the bowl shook quite noticably. "Carly... Have you seen any Walkers around recently?..." His face went pale as he stared off into the throbbing pool of red that lay in front of him. If there were zombies around... He was going back up to the safety of the rooftop. Where he'd left his gun. He mentally facepalmed and tried not to freak out, taking slow, deep breaths to combat the sick feeling he was getting from being so scared.
  13. A bit upset but smiles. "I'm sorry but i don't." I go over to a pantry, taking out a carton of orange juice along with two plastic cups, and pour juice in to both of them. Walking over to you handing you one then going straight to a window leaning on the wall looking through it. I sigh looking at the disgust of it. Just a few building. A small clothing store, a small local store that still has a few food that's good, and a pharmacy. Well the good thing about this place barley any walkers, its like they went away for a bit. "No not really..."
  14. His eyes sort of contracted as he stared at the bowl. It's just my imagination. There aren't any zombies around this part of town... He tipped up the bowl and slowly drank the soup this way, ignoring everything that wasn't an internal reaction to FOOD. His stomach was albeit reaching up to pull the soup down into it as he drank. He let out a slow sigh when he'd finished and then slowly savored the juice. Orange juice... My favorite... It reminded him of the past, and so he took his sweet time drinking. Next he was asleep on the bed with the glass still in his hand.
  15. I take a glance at him smiling, but then start hearing stomping on the stairs out side. I hear like a scream. A bit surprised, but nervous as well. 'Could it be another survivor?' I think to myself. 'Maybe I'm hearing things, I hope its not some random, stumbling zombie walking around here....could it?' Sighing and grab my sledgehammer and quietly walk out the door trying not to disturb the man. 'And I'm stupid enough to tell him my name, but not ask him his..'
  16. Minutes would go by as Randy stalked and searched for more supplies, hopefully what ever was in this house was worth it. Somewhere inside hte house he heard a growl, defiantely not the local dog. In front of him stood the doors to three rooms, one of which had whatever made the growl. He felt fear settle from his chest and down to his gullet, nothing could possibly put more worry into you than being eatin' alive. It's slow, grusome, you can only watch the five minutes you have left as you die by the tooth of another.

    Randy swiped across his nose and and reached for the first nobb in his path, the one to the far right. He twisted the knob and opened the door slowly, aiming his gun in first and checking his corners. It was the grandparent's bedroom- aking sized bed, a dresser, and a closet to the north wall of the room. He went through the dresser first, anything vauable in there could be used to trade incase he met up with bandits. People had gone crazy from all this, so it was either fight to stay alive or be on your on. He found a pack of smokes, and two diamond necklaces, that'd be a good trade item. Stuffing away his findings, he went on to the next room.

    He opened the door but felt it get stuck, everytime he pushed it would hit something. He shifted his weight to his back heel and and pshued the door again, this time he got an 'oof' from behind it. He found what made the growl. Randy closed the door back, but slightly, aiming his handgun at the center. He dug deep and then kicked the door in, knocking the corpse to the flor. Randy quicky ran up and put his foot on its neck to pin it down and shot it between the eyes. He pulled back the stock and ejected his clip to check his ammo, he used 7 shots out of his 15. May as well keep using these last 7 before reloading the last mag. This room seemed to be a dosiae, bookshelves, a desk, and gun rack? Score! And it was a pump-action. Randy picked it up and inspected it close, no damage, but plenty of usage. Problem was there were no rounds for it. He let out a sigh and took it anyway, it had a strap so carrying it wouldn't be a problem. He crossed it on his right shoulder to his left side of his waist, then walked right back out the front door.

    He was set on weapons for now, if he could find some rounds for that thing.
  17. Marcus started awake. One sound echoed in his mind. A gunshot. The ringing taunted him, hurting his ears as he laid curled up on the bed. He was sort of small for a sixteen year old boy, but he had his strength and he could survive. Barely. He sat up and rubbed his eyes that were yet again rejected the sweet bliss of slumber and sighed. About five minutes later he had his gun and rehydrated himself by drinking several glasses of water. He'd noticed the girl was gone, wished her the best, and set off down the fire escape on the side of the building back into the alleyway. Assuming there would be more sounds of a fight soon, he slowly approached the street and hid just behind a dumpster at the corner, hand on his gun.
  18. I jump a bit hearing the sound of a gunshot. 'First a scream not this.' I start running toward the sound of the gunshot. Looking around, I see blood and my eyes widen in shock. Seeing a door I start to turn the nob, cracking it open a bit i see a walker that seem he got shot in the head. Opening the door more, I walk up to it.
  19. Marcus had waited for the longest time, but still he heard nothing... He really hoped no one had been turned. The thought made him shiver. He walked out from behind the dumbster, holding the CZ75 in both of his small hands. He knew how to use the gun but he still hated it, and he didn't want to attract all of the undead that could be rotting in a corner half a mile away. As he walked out of the alley he looked both ways down the road, stomach churning. Sometimes the silence really got to him, and now he had no idea where the girl was. He continued inspecting the buildings from the middle of the street.
  20. Sighing. 'With that loud noise,' I thought to myself. 'they can lead a lot of hordes. I should find the guy I helped and get out of here.' Walking back to my room, I grab my purple book bag and start stuffing it with the cans of food and the orange juice carton. Almost walking out the door, I see that the window is open. 'He probably went on his own.' I thought. Leaving the door open, I make my way out the window, down the fire escape. When I hit the ground, I look around to make sure no undead was around me. I start looking for him down the street, until i see him. "Hey!" I call out to him and start running towards him.
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