[Frallon]

I've been on L4D and Dead Island quite a bit lately and wanted to do a movement story. So, starting out in an apartment stronghold, we're going to move across the city of Erie to reach the docks and attempt to cross over to the peninsula to leave the city. Looking at the map, we'll be at the bottom, working north. Point A is the complex, B is the original soldier barricades (now abandoned), C is the local armory where we'll have to arm up more effectively, D is a hospital facility in which we can stop and hold up for a moment, and E is crossing the pier to the peninsula. Just to explain the other marks, the circled 'conrail' is the original military HQ point, north of that was the established burning pits to help stop contamination, and the blocked off piece of the pier was an civilian treatment and evacuation point.

Same Rules as Typical. It's an open writing RP so a lot of responsibility is in the writer. Realistic posts, no god moves, or overpowered characters. Make things a challenge. Confrontation is drama and drama is a good story. We're just going to do regular infected in bulk numbers. : )



CHARACTER SHEET
Name: (Be Real)
Age: (Reasonable Date xx/xx/xx)
Gender: (M or F)
Appearance: (Written description or Picture)
Weapons(s): (If any try to challenge yourself)
Short Background: (1 paragraph about you IC)

Attached File(s)

•  erie.jpg (565.57K)
  Number of downloads: 15

[rowdyrugby]

Name: Robert Booth
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Appearance: 5'7 166 pounds. Shaggy brown hair with blue eyes and a slight beard. Fitted with a white baseball cap featuring OU's red insignia (Oklahoma). Clothing consists of a light brown field jacket that is a reproduction of a British army WWII field jacket. Under the field jacket, lies a long sleeve white shirt. Jeans. Backpack. He wears his short roman sword on his right side with a shoulder strap over his left shoulder.

Weapons(s):

Lee-Enfield No. 4 Mk I with 23 rounds. Bayonet.
High quality reproduction gladius

Short Background:

Originally from Chicago, Robert Booth had been living a rather normal life before everything happened. He had spent time in the Naval Reserve but worked full time in the regional historical society. With a degree from Michigan State University, Booth had made a halfway decent living. In his spare time, Booth had enjoyed playing rugby and doing historical reenactments portraying a Canadian solider in world war two.

[Frallon]

CHARACTER SHEET
Name: Louie Johnston
Age: 31
Gender: M
Appearance: 5'10", Cuban Descendent, Thick Jawline, Brown eyes, Buzzed head, Black Leather Jacket, Dark Blue T Shirt, Black Jeans, Black Shoes.
Weapons(s): Remington 870, 12 Gauge, 20 round Bandolier
Short Background: Long time factory worker, nomadic in nature, picking up and moving from town to town every couple of years when things would become too easy to bare. Not really a hardcore biker, just something he's fallen into liking, and bolds his lifestyle. Recovering Alcoholic and Smoker, six months clean.

[Billy Bones]

Name: Dallas Hickman
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Appearance:  5'10", 180lbs, Close cropped sandy blonde hair, Light brown eyes, tanned face from being outdoors, Sheriff Deputy's Hat, Black leather uniform jacket, Dark brown uniform pants, Standard uniform boots

Primary Weapon: Police issue Glock22 Gen 4 .40 cal, Police issue Remington 870, PR24 police issue baton, (2 clips of .40 caliber ammunition, 12 rounds of shotgun shells)
Equipment/tools: Gun holster, radio, handcuffs, Pepper spray, Maglite flashlight, multitool, folding rescue knife, small first aid kit

Bio:  Dallas has been a County Sheriff's Deputy for 15 years.  He spent much of his formidable years growing up on a ranch in southern Montana.  Deputy Hickman is an avid outdoorsman and spends two weeks each summer fly fishing back home.  Very patient and agreeable, he was chosen to patrol a rural section of the county simply for his calm demeanor and ability to solve problems as they arise.  Nothing much rattles the deputy as he has been in police work for years now.  Dallas Hickman is a pillar in the community and can often be found at roadside bar knocking back a few PBRs after his shift ends. Dallas is often quick to de-fuse a situation by using his slow western drawl instead of his weapon.  Cooler heads still prevail, even nowadays.  That's why Dallas is still around and has the reputation for it.

[Zombreach]

I am thinking of a character...I will try to get something up this weekend.

[Frallon]

OOC: Alright as soon as Zombreach gets her character in we'll be set : ) any OOCs after that just comment to people profiles or send a PM. Thank you all for joining. Roleplays have just been awful lately across the net lol

[Zombreach]

Sorry guys--my vacation has slowed me down a bit. Here we go! Now we can start. :)


CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Cassandra (Cass) Mitchell
Age: 24
Gender: F

Appearance: Cass is 5'5" and weighs 125 lbs. She has short, light brown hair with blonde tips, the bangs hanging just over her hazel eyes and freckled nose. She is very fit with an athletic build. Currently she is wearing blue jeans tucked into low-heeled fashion boots, a yellow blouse and a short black leather jacket.

Weapons(s): A shovel with the blade sharpened and the wooden handle sanded to a point.

Short Background: Cass worked at a health club as an aerobics instructor and personal trainer. Her life was very orderly, everything planned to the last detail. She was a health nut--exercising and eating healthy the foundation to her happiness. The chaos that became her new life uprooted her from her happy little bubble. She found the stress unnerving, the food she was forced to eat disgusting, and the company intolerable. Her only salvation was found inside a bottle of medication she plucked off an unlucky victim. Valium became her new road to happiness.

[rowdyrugby]

.

[Zombreach]

rowdyrugby, on 19 June 2012 - 03:08 AM, said:

.

Is this good or bad?


Edit: I wanted to clarify something from my character sheet...when I said Cass could not tolerate the company, I was referring to the undead.

[Billy Bones]

Zombreach, on 19 June 2012 - 08:26 AM, said:

Edit: I wanted to clarify something from my character sheet...when I said Cass could not tolerate the company, I was referring to the undead.

I would hope, LOL.

With your Valium and my patience, we might just ask the undead to leave. "C'mon guys, we asked nicely..."

[rowdyrugby]

Lets start.

[Frallon]

Light came over the horizon, flooding over a mound of water visible from a large floating mass long deprived of any type of fishing or docking, and sent a wave of contrast over a bulk of buildings behind a pier deep into a cold metropolis. Men and woman, all ages, sizes, and nationalities rose from a fake slumber to examine the lit new world. They were battered and broken with pieces missing and their lives in equal measure. But they moved regardless in any direction which pleased them. Hungry. Needing to sink their hands and teeth on a warm meal and feed. Though none of their pains would be quenched. Miles inward from the coast, the light was making its way to a fifth story window over looking a dried Reservoir, and slowly coming to rest on the face of a man who sat perched in a seat with his face resting upon the glass.

Louie felt himself start to come to, at his self appointed post, with light seeping under his eyes. He'd passed out again looking out at the city sometime during the night. He sat back in a bland chair and took a deep breath to welcome the day; happy to see another one. Him and the rest had been shacked up in this small one bedroom for about a week. Hiding low, trying to bide some time, he'd forgotten who's idea it was to come here already. The places food was enough so far to not dip into their rations. Plus, even with a handful of them attacking the front door, the place had access to the buildings fire escape just incase they needed to head out. Thats where Louie sat every night still expecting the worse. Just because they had a moment of isolation didn't mean he could simply forget the world they came out of.

A day on the street made you never want to move again. It was all just too much too fast. People were everywhere, crowding the streets, trying to squeeze into business' with lock gates or steal a car or find their loved ones. They were open targets for the infected and the streets became quickly dotted with blood. Social order broke so fast, it became every man for himself, no one even noticed when the Military arrived. They spent their time putting up quarantine walls, making camps along the coast and in the inner city, trying to control the infected and keep their men safe. Gunshots went off day and night with huge flood lights illuminating the city beyond even seeing the weapons discharge. Still, the city continued loosing itself, until eventually they vastly outnumbered the bullets. Louie hadn't seen the last part, he'd sat with a stolen radio, listening to the reports huddled in a wine cellar of a restaurant he'd never dined at. When everything was quiet though, and the military gone, the evil was more black and white. It was just the survivors and the infected scrambling about trying to find and destroy one another. Took a certain kind of crazy to run towards gunshots in order to hook up with others. But ultimately it seemed to have worked out at least to this point.

Standing up, Louie set a 12 gauge across the seat of his chair, and walked around to find where the others slept. "Hey," he spoke with a yawn, "suns up guys, time to eat."

[Zombreach]

Cass pulled the blanket tighter around her, squeezing her eyes shut against the morning light and the call to get up. The night had been a long one, hours spent awake listening to the constant moans of the hungry undead. Sleep was not a luxury she allowed herself these past weeks, her body insisting on staying awake and alert. She curled her body tighter, the sofa beneath her old, with threadbare material worn thin and fluffs of cottony stuffing pushing their way to the surface. Despite its lumpy surface, it was the most comfortable place she had lain for some time. She cringed as memories surfaced, a basement floor, cold and damp, and all the people crammed into the small space. There had been no food and the smell of unwashed bodies had been enough to make her forget she was hungry, even after three days. The group falsely believed they were safe, that the doors would hold. It was the double cellar doors at ground level which caved in first, allowing all the infected to pour inside. Cass was shoved about, her only weapon a shovel she had been handed when the inevitable collapse of the doors occurred.

Screaming, the sound of flesh tearing, gurgling sounds as throats bubbled with blood….these were the things she tried to shut out. She had been surprised at her own ability to inflict blows and ultimately death. The shovel was an ungainly tool, but was quite efficient when it came to decapitation. When all the carnage ended, she was one of two left standing. The undead and newly dead filling the cramped room with the odor of blood and rot. She had gagged, vomiting clear bile, as she was pulled from the basement. Together the two survivors had ran, seemingly forever, until Cass noticed she was running alone. She had back-tracked, calling out, feeling an odd connection with this stranger she had spent a few grueling days with. She couldn’t remember his name, and in the end she only managed to attract more of the infected. She moved on, weaving in and out of different establishments, stopping to grab up supplies or rest. She slept in empty houses, gathering food and water into a large purse-like tote she had discovered near a corpse. She had kept a few items from the bag, a brush, mirror, chapstick, and a bottle of pills. When she had reached the apartment complex she was residing in now, she was worn out and defeated. Pushing her way into the building, she had collapsed in the foyer, wrapping her arms about her legs and rocking. She zoned out for some time, only coming back to awareness when a set of hands lifted her to her feet. She hadn’t resisted when she was led up five flights of stairs and taken to this apartment. There was some sense of safely here, even if it was only temporary, and the pills she had found added a feeling of false comfort and calm. Without them, she was afraid she might lose her mind.

Groaning, Cass poked her head out from the blanket and greeted the dawn. Running her hands through her hair which barely covered her ears, she ruffled it into place. A short black leather jacket was crumpled as a pillow at one end of the couch, another item she had found while on the fly. She unwrapped the cocooned blanket from her shoulders and slipped on her boots. She was hungry, the dry coating on her tongue evidence to her thirst as well.

“I’m up.” She responded, Louie’s yawn producing one of her own. She stretched, using the back of the sofa to rest her hands on as she extended each leg and cracked her back. Turning her head from side to side, she worked out the kinks from the restless night. Breakfast…she wondered what that would entail. She would kill for some yogurt and fresh fruit…literally. Reaching into her newly acquired bag, she pulled out an amber bottle and tapped out a white pill. Chewing the valium dry, she savored the bitter taste and the calm it would bring.

[rowdyrugby]

Robert stretched and put his shirt and field jacket on. He sat up slowly, conscious of the dreams he had had the night before. He shook it from his mind. He slowly drew his hand across his face, and scratched his neck before sitting in the corner. After rummaging around in his backpack for a moment, Robert took out a spiral notebook. He rapidly flipped through the sheets as they crinkled loudly. Robert had been keeping a diary of events since all this began. It was the historian in him. He stepped to the balcony and looked through the sliding glass door. His hand came to the glass as he looked out. The summer morning hit him like a ton of bricks. A morning like this and he would be out there, drinking coffee on the deck and enjoying the weather. Life beyond the glass had changed. When it began, Robert had been at home reading GQ and heard the television in the background. He remembered lowering the magazine and cocking his head at the news report. The next two hours were spent on the phone. To him, it was a whirlwind.

Robert sat back down, and scribbled a few lines about the day before and the weather today. He put his head back and it touched the wall with a light thud. His mind raced. He snapped back a somebody thrust a piece of beef jerky in his direction. "Dum vita est, spes est" said Robert quietly, mainly to himself. He ripped into the jerky, eagerly trying to gulp down the calories. He stopped and looked at the other half, still in his hand. He wasn't eating. He was feeding. He felt disgusted. Robert carefully slid the remaining jerky into his pack and laid down. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

[Billy Bones]

It wasn't like anything he had ever seen.  

The trauma on a massive scale.  Evisceration.  Exanguination.  Extermination. The damage human beings could do to each other was, simply inconceivable.  Dallas did not rattle easy.  He was clearly shaken.  That was what scared him the most.  

Awake now, he tipped his hat until it was well above his eyes.  Dallas Hickman tried to place together the events that got him here.  His gaze did not leave the ceiling.  

Deputy Hickman had received the call late into the evening.  He did not remember how it started.  Domestic Assault?  Assault with intent...?  He wasn't sure.  That also scared him.  He did not forget important details.  But not things were not as clear as they used to be.  The deputy remembered talking with a couple and then overheard the dreaded code 10-00 come through the static.  

Officer down.  

Hickman had excused himself and immediately ran to the old K5.  Dirt and rocks spraying over the dirt driveway sped the blazer in the direction of the call.  Upon arrival, the deputy followed police protocol  and drew his weapon.  He identified himself as a police officer and repeatedly ordered the assailant to stand down and back off of the officer.  Following the 'non-compliance' statute and in fear of the officer's life, Dallas Hickman fired two rounds into the back of the assailant.  The figure did not move and only continued to attack the officer on the ground.  Two more rounds in the center of the perpetrator's back only did to detract his attention from the victim and the glare at Hickman.  What the deputy saw froze him.  

Dallas Hickman sat up abruptly in the apartment and breathed heavily.  A slight tinge of perspiration drew its mark across his brow.

"Any coffee left Louie?"