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Old March 12th, 2017 (7:15 PM). Edited March 23rd, 2017 by Klippy.
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The dead are rising. Much of the world is in chaos as leaders and scientists across the globe have given up hope and declared global emergency. Most major countries and continents are overrun with the infected as airports and ports fall victim to panic and mass infection, trapping millions upon millions in large cities like Los Angeles and Chicago. The undead roam the streets of these iconic cities, searching for the next living victim to their slaughter. Many remain hostage to the horde, unable to flee or find sustenance. You are not one of these people. Through everything, through the chaos and the killings and the loss of friends and family, you survived.

It has been several weeks since the outbreak began and you find yourself in Brookings, Oregon. Population: 6,374. A small coastal town famous for its views, access to Chetco River, and its friendly demeanor. The town became a safe haven for fleeing survivors from California and Portland, a few hundred miles north. Before long, however, those seeking to gain from the outbreak arrived and the town became as dangerous as any other.

The dead now roam the streets, as well as dangerous gangs and groups looking to prey on the weak.

Brookings is the only town for many miles and forests surround the town, as well as the dangerous and turbulent ocean. No matter how you got here, this is your new home and it's either survive or die. Or worse.

Are you ready for the outbreak?


It Begins





Brookings Overview Map | Zones Overlay
Downtown | Industrial | Outskirts

Currently Available Locations:

Main Street / Downtown









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Old March 12th, 2017 (10:47 PM).
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IT BEGINS

The quiet town of Brookings was up to its usual Monday morning business. The world around them had long been adjusting to life chaotic. The zombie outbreak had hit big cities hard, but the Mayor of Brookings had announced over the town's loudspeaker that Brookings was perfectly safe and that the police department was doing everything necessary to keep things normal.

Checkpoints were set up at the entrances to the town, the harbor was closed for boating - though the small aquarium remained open, and small adjustments had taken place, but little else affected the sleepy coastal town. A large long haul truck passed down Main Street, turning onto Railroad Avenue. It pulled into the Happy Hardware lot and a honk could be heard from the loud vehicle. A police car drove down the road, inside Officer Perkins looking for anything suspicious. Perkins kept his eye on the Brookings Inn where a group of bikers were staying. The police had gotten word this biker group had caused trouble down the coast and they would be ensuring it didn't happen here. The cop car passed an older and younger man, walking down the street, looking disheveled and roughed up, but homelessness was common in this economy, Perkins thought.

A report came in over the radio.

"Code 3! Officers needed at Brookings Cinema! We have a 12-28, 12-29, 12-33!" Someone was attacking people at the movie theater and it sounded bad. Perkins hit his siren and sped towards the theater. He looked down at his computer, keyed up his radio, and responded, "Perkins responding to the 12-33." As he looked back up, a woman with a gash across her throat stood in the road. Perkins swerved the car, twisting the wheel roughly. He twisted too hard and the cop car flipped. Glass shattered into his face as he felt the intense thud of the woman's body hitting the rolling car. Perkins was drenched in her blood and guts as the car flipped three more times.

Perkins opened his eyes and tried to unbuckle his seat belt. It wouldn't disconnect. He looked out the shattered window. He was in the middle of the intersection of Main and Pacific. "Help!" he shouted. "Is anyone there?!"

He saw feet coming towards him and screamed again, "Oh, thank God! I didn't see that woman, she came out of nowhere! Is...is she dead? Is she okay? Oh, God."

Perkins grasped for his radio and fumbled with the mic. He felt immense pain. "We have...a 12-17. Officer down. Car flipped. Woman injured. Send help."

The feet were right above Perkins now and he reached out to let them know he was there. The person dropped down next to him and what blood he had left inside him ran cold. A man with milky white eyes and a missing throat groaned and grabbed his hand, biting deep into it. Perkins screamed in pain and yanked his hand away, but when he did, he felt as if his fingers were suddenly gone. He looked at his hand and saw he only had a thumb and a pointer finger left. He grabbed desperately for his gun. This psycho ate his fingers. He had to be on bath salts or some sick new drug. His now two-fingered hand could not unbuckle his gun from the holster, as he felt himself losing control of his senses. He had bled so much and was near-fainting. He felt his now-missing fingers burning with pain as he finally unbuckled the gun. He pulled it out and shot the man who was nearly in the car itself. The man slumped over and stopped moving. Perkins dropped the gun, unable to hold it with two fingers any longer.

Perkins felt a ringing in his ears from the gunshot as he realized more feet approached. Feet adorned in leather boots.

"Well well, boys! Looks like we got ourselves a piggy!" laughed one of the bikers.

"Let's roast this hog!" replied another. Perkins saw one pair of feet approach his gas tank and begin messing with it.

"Stop...p-please..."

He heard the flick of the match. A face bent down next to him and grabbed his firearm. The biker checked the pockets of the dead man and pulled out a wallet, then ran away. He felt the heat hit him, but the pain never came. Officer Perkins was dead.

The chaos of the scene forced people from the shops and offices around the intersection. They gasped in horror as the officer's car was consumed in fire, and the masked faces of Devil's Madness bikers ran from the scene, but nothing distracted them better than a sudden roaring noise from the sky. The onlookers turned their heads to the sky as a large plane soared overhead. Both of its wings were aflame and a gaping hole was blown along its side. Bodies flew from the fuselage and hit the concrete as the plane's roar grew louder and louder. It flew over Main Street, the river, and the rest of the town before the booming explosion and subsequent cloud of flame and black smoke billowed from the outskirts of the city - in the forest. People screamed and ran inside, not realizing the true horror had already reached their town's once-quiet streets.
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Old March 12th, 2017 (10:47 PM).
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MAIN ST. / DOWNTOWN


Click on map to enlarge

The busiest street in Brookings. Main Street houses all the amenities you'd expect from a regular American town. Restaurants, cafes, a movie theater, a park, a grocery store, and plenty of other things, Main Street also happens to be one of the hot spots for looters, zombies, and other survivors just looking to stay alive. Several areas of the street are boarded up and fortified by looters or survivors, while other places are extremely dangerous to enter. In the chaos of the infection, you must still be wary of dangerous areas and places.

The most dangerous areas will require more than your empty hands to loot or escape from, so use caution.

POINTS OF INTEREST


- Brookings Inn & Suites
- Happy Hardware
- Brookings Diner / Brookings Coffee
- Starbucks
- Timothy Brookings Memorial Park
- Brookings Cinema
- Brookings Grocery & Deli
- Brookings Hospital
- Dump
- Power Station
- Burke & Sheffield Law Offices


Choose any building on the map (or clear out a Point of Interest) to establish your own/group safe house!


SAFE CAUTION RISKY UNSAFE DANGER NO ENTRY

AVAILABLE LOOT / POTENTIAL HAZARDS


Consider each zombie icon as a handful of zombies. The more zombie icons, the more dangerous. The same goes for looter or other group icons.

As the game develops, places are looted or fortified (NPCs will be able to fortify their own safe houses and scavenge), be sure to check the location you wish to visit in case things have changed.

Spoiler:
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Old March 14th, 2017 (6:22 PM).
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Capt. Timothy McGregor
3 Str | 3 Int | 2 Ag | 2 Char
Status: Killer Headache
Inventory:
Spoiler:

1 Knife (3/65)
1 Apple (3/65) (2 Food)
1 Cereal (1/65) (5 Food)

Total Weight = 7/65
Total Food = 7/???

McGregor walked silently up the street towards the diner. He’d split up with JJ, deciding that it would be best if they tried to cover more ground in the search for anything useful, which basically meant weapons or supplies. He’d long since lost the gun he’d managed to briefly acquire. McGregor worried somewhat about leaving JJ to his own devices, he was just a kid and he was weak as piss but there was no sense in babying him. If you were too soft you wouldn’t survive. Besides, the kid was smart - probably smarter than him really - he’d find a way to handle himself.

It probably wasn’t his smartest move to walk directly up to the building, but the windows weren’t boarded up like a great number of the others he’d passed through had been so he could see into the front of the building. There was nobody around that could see his approach. McGregor got nearer to the building and reached out for the door before thinking better of it. An old-school diner like this could have a bell on the door and it was possible that there were people out the back in the kitchen or something.

Instead, he made his way to way to where one of the windows had been smashed out and hauled himself through the open window frame and onto a table, careful not to cut himself open on the jagged glass that still remained around the edges at points. His heavy boots crunched glass under his feet as he moved across the table and onto the ground. McGregor tenses slightly at the sound, it wasn’t particularly noisy but it might have notified keener ears to his entry. When nobody appeared, he continued on his way. He gave the tables a quick once over, seeing nothing of any use - unless month old coffee and pancakes counted for anything (it didn’t).

Moving on, McGregor walked around the counter. A glass bowl sat on the counter, a lone apple within. He picked it up and turned it over a couple of times. Surprisingly enough, it seemed like it was reasonably fresh so it was dumped into McGregor’s bloodstained backpack which was otherwise empty. Aside from the single morsel of fruit, there was nothing of any importance behind the counter either. He could have tried breaking into the till, but money had ceased to hold any value. If you wanted something from someone, you had to give them something else useful in return or take it without asking.

McGregor peered through the space in the wall behind the counter, peering into the kitchen beyond. He couldn’t see anyone, but he didn’t have the most complete of views and if there were people hiding inside, it’d be in the back. Stepping back out from behind the counter, McGregor pushed open the swinging door that lead into the kitchen and walked in. He swept his eyes across the room, noting that although nobody was visible there was a door at the back and a small hallway off to the side. A large, room-sized refrigerator hung open, now empty. Surmising that the lone door probably lead out to a loading dock or similar, he chose to check down the hallway before looting the kitchen.

Three more doors lined the hallway. McGregor checked all of them. The first two were tiny tiled rooms with lockers against the walls. All of the lockers were closed and seemed to have combination locks, so McGregor didn’t bother with them. The third room was an equally small office containing nothing but a computer, phone, desk and a worn-looking chair. McGregor wasn’t entirely sure why a diner would need such a room at all, but that wasn’t a concern. He opted to pull open the draws on the desk, seeing nothing but paper.

“Maybe they did catering on the side or something.” McGregor muttered to himself, turning to head back towards the kitchen. The room was startlingly white, with white tiles and countertops and white cupboards and draws as well. This of course, made the patches that had been stained red with blood a lot more noticeable. It was old blood though, long dried. One way or another, it’s owner had since left. Satisfied that nobody else was present, McGregor took his time opening cupboards and rummaging around them… unfortunately though the majority were empty. The only things McGregor found that were worth taking were a large knife and a box of cereal that would likely still be edible when the sun exploded.

Keeping the knife in hand, McGregor dumped the cereal box into his backpack along with the lone apple. He’d acquired something useable as a weapon but he was a long way off of finding many useful supplies.

“Guess it could have been worse.” McGregor muttered to himself. It was at that moment that, right on queue, the bell McGregor had guessed would be attached to the front door chimed and the voices of two men could be heard.

“Psyduckin’ hell Jerry, can’t believe that we found sweet psyduck all again.”

“We’d find more if you didn’t insist we come back here to make sure nobody’s moved in after every street we search.”

McGregor barely suppressed the urge to swear loudly at his misfortune. The place had been claimed after all, it’s occupants had just been out looking for supplies… and from the sounds of it hadn’t found much. That was bad for a whole other reason. McGregor moved quickly, making a dash for the door he assumed lead out to a loading dock. He grabbed the handle, twisted and pushed. The door didn’t move. McGregor tried pulling, but the door remained closed. It seemed that it had been locked… by a key since there only a keyhole was visible for a locking mechanism. McGregor rammed the door with his shoulder, the door held strong. He’d need to hit it a few more times before he could break through. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that much time.

“Just who the psyduck are you?” the one who’d first spoken growled. McGregor took both of them in. They were in their late twenties or early thirties, neither was particularly well built but they weren’t scrawny either. They both had hefty-looking backpacks with them and were armed with makeshift weapons - the one who’d been speaking carried a shovel whilst the other, Jerry he supposed, was armed with a cleaver. “I’m not hearing an answer.”

“I’m just passing through, didn’t realise anyone was staying here.” McGregor said “I didn’t take anything. Mind you, there’s psyduck all here to take. No need to worry about me, I don’t plan on hurting anyone. Just let me be on my way.”

“Right, that’s why you’re creeping around with a drawn weapon.” Jerry said, apparently oblivious to the fact he was wielding an enormous meat cleaver.

“I’m just being careful, same as you two.” McGregor said, watching the two carefully. He was suddenly very aware of the dried blood he was standing on. He hadn’t been paying much attention to it before, but it was very clearly drag marks. That meant that a normal person, not an infected, had been killed and then physically removed from the premises. If these two men were using the diner as a hideout, that probably meant they’d had something to do with that. “There’s a lot of dried blood here. Have you two had troub-”

The man with the shovel lunged for McGregor, forcing the older man to leap out the way. He slipped on the tiles however, banging his head against one of cupboards as he fell. His vision flickered for a moment and pain erupted in the back of his head. McGregor groaned, but he didn’t get time for a reprieve. The attacker swung down with the shovel, forcing McGregor to roll out of the way. The shovel struck the cupboard with a loud thump, leaving a gash in the front. The shovel-wielding man moved forward again, but this time McGregor had his wits about him. He threw himself forward into his attacker’s legs, too close for the shovel to be used effectively and bowled him over. The shovel flew from the man’s hand, so he tried to throw a punch at McGregor head. McGregor knocked the clumsy blow aside with his arm as he clambered forwards and drove his knife into the man’s throat.

“Jesus, psyduck!” Jerry yelled, as McGregor pulled his knife free and climbed to his feet, a gurgling sound emanating from the man dying on the floor as he tried to breath through the blood that was filling his windpipe. McGregor looked at the now terrified Jerry, who was shaking all over but still clutched the cleaver.

“I’m going to walk out of here now. You don’t look like you want to end up the same as your friend here, so I’m giving you a chance. Get out of my way or the same thing that happened to him - the same thing you did to whoever the psyduck was in here before you - happens to you.” McGregor said, his voice steady and stern. He’d been a soldier and he’d been a cop and now he’d already survived looter attacks, raids and zombies. He wasn’t going to feel bad about knifing someone who tried to kill him. Jerry moved aside as McGregor walked forwards, giving him a wide berth at he made his way out of the kitchen.

“Wasn’t me… was Paul.” McGregor heard the man mutter as he pushed open the front door of the diner. The day was still fairly new and he had to find more than an apple and some cereal. Then he’d need to meet up with JJ so they could find somewhere good to stay, unless of course the kid already had. McGregor wasn’t going to hold his breath for that though.

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Old March 15th, 2017 (11:51 AM). Edited March 17th, 2017 by Strange.
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Curtis Conner





4 Str | 4 Stm | 1 Int | 1 Chr
Weight: 0/80
Inventory



















Curtis groaned as he sat up. He had been sleeping on the ground of a make-shift shack one of the fishermen had built some time ago. The stench of rotted fish guts was strong, but days of sleeping here had made him hardly notice the smell. He stood up, stretched for a few minutes, and then decided it was time he ventured into town to find something to eat, as his attempts at fishing with a frayed piece of fishing line and no bait had yielded no results.

Upon exiting the shack, however, he tugged a little too hard on the door, ripping the wood from the rest of the wall and collapsing the feeble structure. There was no way he'd be able to figure out how to fix that without tools and plenty of time. Looks like he was going to have to find a place to stay in town as well as food. Today was going to be a rough day for him, and it had only just begun.

He walked along a dirt path up from the coast area towards the dump. He figured the place probably didn't hold much of value, but that meant nobody would be there, right? No people meant he could take whatever he wanted without trouble, not that he couldn't handle himself, but he was currently without a weapon, and he doubted anyone defending their stash of supplies would be in the same defenseless situation.

As he approached the top of the hill the road transitioned from dirt to paved, although he didn't quite reach the paved part before he turned off the road towards the dump. He hopped a fence, landing in a pile of dirt. His feet were already covered in rotted fish guts and blood from the shack so the dirt clung to his shoes and pant-legs. Brushing off his upper legs, he walked towards a pile of trash near the closest building. In it he found an old lotto ticket, some rotten fruit which may have been an apple but he wasn't quite sure, and a cup of something rotted covered with maggots. He opened the burlap sack he had tied to his jeans and tossed the cup in. The maggots could probably be used as bait for fishing if he didn't find any better food.

He walked over to the building, peering in a dirty window to see if he could tell what was inside before he tried to break in. He froze when he heard a moaning sound from behind him, a low grumble which transitioned to loud sound which didn't quite sound human. Curtis spun around quickly, readying his hands into fists. A small orange striped tabby cat mewed and rubbed on his legs, sniffing the fish smell that coated him from head to toe.

"Awww heyyy theree little kittyyyy." he said, relaxing his hands and bending over to scratch the poor animal under the chin. "You're probably hungry too right?" the cat mewed in agreement, "Let's see what's in this building then."

He walked over to the metal door and slammed his foot into it. It took a few kicks, but eventually the battered door fell off its hinges, slamming down on the ground as a multitude of rats scurried away from the sudden sound and light. The cat pounced on one, catching its tail with its claws and then biting down on its neck. The cat purred loudly as it munched on its catch. "Well, I'm glad one of us got something out of that," he mused, "Cause the rest of this place is pretty much empty."

He sat down with the cat, scratching its belly and noting that it was male when he flipped the cat over. "I think I'll call you Fred." he informed the cat. "So, how about it Fred? Wanna come see what else we can find in town? It'll probably be dangerous but you look like a pretty sturdy fellow." Fred yawned and stretched, then bounded over and sat next to the door. "I'll take that as a yes!" he laughed, following Fred out the door and through the dump.

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Old March 15th, 2017 (11:02 PM).
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Jake “JJ” Johnson





1 Str | 2 Stm | 3 Chr | 4 Int
Weight: 8/30
Inventory





















“(Oh sweet Palutena... Oh my sweet whatever the hell kind of god is most popular in the mystical lands of Hyrule has right now… these guys smell so bad.)” JJ thought to himself as he pressed up against the fir tree he had just darted behind.

“(Oh come on JJ, you’ve survived worse than this. Get a grip.)” He mentally scolded himself as he looked towards his goal. Lying in the middle of the ground was a baseball bat that had probably once belonged to one of the corpses that was currently shambling around not too far away from him.

He was of course, currently in the middle of the Timothy Brookings memorial park. Which, ironically was one of the places that had the least amount of undead running around. The undead ahead were all stumbling around the large brass statue of old Timothy, an actual unmoving corpse was scattered about in little piles nearby.

“(Alright JJ. The bat is right next to that wall. You just need to run past them, grab it, and climb over without letting them get too close to you. Once you do that you should be safe.)” With one last heavy breath, JJ pushed forward, almost stumbling as he did so. The sudden movement caught the attention of the walking dead and they began to move towards him, not at the slow shamble that they were idly moving however. They moved towards him at a quick pace, but he was on a mission. As he reached down and his fingers wrapped around the edge of the bat he began to pull it up. “(Holy muk this thing is weightier than it looked!)” He mentally complained as continued.

JJ grunted as he jumped up and grasped at the top of the metal gate. “Ugghhh god this is worse than climbing the rope in gym class-” He groaned as he got about three quarters up before feelings something tug on his shoe.

“Ungrhrhh” A woman with a broken tire iron sticking out of her neck groaned as she tugged on his shoe. Behind her a man with patches of his flesh missing and revealing his bare skull groaned and tried to shove past to get at the young man half over the fence.

“Muk!” The young man growled as he shook his leg desperately. Suddenly he felt the blue and white converse shoe slip off his foot as he pulled himself over the edge of the fence. Falling to the ground on the other side with a thud, he crawled to his feet as the hungry undead pressed themselves against the bars. His shoes rested on the ground just on the other side of the fence.

Looking down at his visible toes through the worn and stained socks, JJ groaned as he already knew McGreggor was going to give him hell for it. Or sweet dreamlands forbid he make him actually work out or something.

A creak from the iron gate brought JJ to attention as some of the bars began to bend. “Well I think that’s my cue to dash.” He said as he stood up and started to run away awkwardly as he was only wearing one shoe.
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Old March 16th, 2017 (2:47 PM).
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Jeremy Collins


The Waiting Game - Early morning

The industrial district of Brookings was cheap real estate back when Abigail and Jeremy had first gotten married. Initially, they'd only rented the property that Jeremy was heading to now - but after a few more visits and a bit of bargaining with the landlord, they'd managed to snag the place for well under market value. Beachfront, secluded and quiet. In Summers past, Jeremy and Abigail would go out onto the beach with their sons and help search for baby crabs that would burrow into the sand when night came... those were the good ol' days, but it had been years since they'd even come to the house all together as a family. The divorce as well as the years leading up to it had done a real number on them all.

"So, you hear what they're saying on the news lately?"

Jeremy had begun to drift off to sleep, but with his cabbie's incessant chatter it was proving increasingly futile. "No," Jeremy rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he sighed, being forced into conversation, "I don't care much for the news. It's all propaganda. Lies and opinions of the simple-minded. No-one ever reports the full story, it's only what they want to get people to hear. Half the time they don't even check their facts. I've just... really grown to dislike the media altogether."

The driver chuckled and swallowed hard, noting but ignoring the irritation in his passenger's voice. "I suppose you don't know about the outbreak then do you?"

"Outbreak?"

"Really? You know nothing about it? It's been hitting all the big cities recently, turning regular everyday people into feral beasts. Surely you should have heard something about it, nobody's that much in the dark these days."

It was somewhat true at least. Jeremy had been staying in a local motel for the past couple of weeks, anxiously awaiting the time that he would get to spend with his sons before they were completely grown up and no longer in need of a father. The walls were thin in most places, but the location at which he'd spent the past week they were especially so. Even with his headphones on, he was still able to hear his neighbors talking, and occasionally crying while talking about some travesty which had hit New York and Chicago. Some Aunt Terry or the other had been flying out to Chicago as a connecting flight and they hadn't been able to get in touch with her since the first announcements were made.

Jeremy had blown it off and turned up his music. Even when he'd gone to check out that morning he had drowned out the sound of the receptionist attempting to talk to him, but trying to remember now he could hear her saying something about checkpoints being set up around the city due to the outbreak.

"You're right," Jeremy began, "I do think I remember hearing something about it, just didn't really put much stock into it I suppose."

"Well that's a shame." The driver shifted the hat on his head and then looked in the mirror at the man in the back seat. "If you'd had any plans about getting out of town then those're all down the drain now." A light chuckle. "But Brookings' safe. Mayor even said so. Airport's closed now along with the harbor and roads out of town. Nobody's gonna get in or out now so this place'll be like our own little haven."

The summer home came into view in the distance, alone on its own little side road the dipped off from the main one. Abby had always wanted to put up a fence around the main entrance to deter trespassers, but it seemed that even when she lived in the damn thing full time she couldn't be assed to do a single thing that even sounded like hard labor.

"Well I'm sure it'll blow over here soon. These things usually do."

"No sir, I don't think you-"

"Thanks for the ride, you can drop me off here. I'd like to walk the rest of the way if I could. What do I owe you?

The cab driver stared at the man now standing outside of his window and then sighed, pressing the button to finish the fare. "Fourty-two fifty."


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Old March 18th, 2017 (4:24 AM). Edited March 18th, 2017 by Ahri.
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Anne "Annie" Himmler


2 Str | 3 Agi | 2 Cha | 3 Int
Carry Weight: 5/50
Inventory
Spoiler:



A chance encounter



It must have been around two hours since Anne parted ways with her friend Hannah. The roads and alleys so far have been pretty clear and quiet but, based on previous experiences, the young woman knew not to let her guard down. The only thing she kept out of all the supplies she and Hannah had was the claw hammer simply because she did not want to be out there without any means to defend herself. Now, as the sun was shining brighter, she wished she'd at least kept a bottle of water. Her mouth felt dry and she hadn't had a proper rest in ages. "If Hannah was around, she could have kept watch whilst I snuck inside one of these places to look for food and water" she thought to herself as she wiped the sweat off her brow.

Annie was just about to turn the corner into a secluded alleyway when she heard it... The moan was faint and so was the sound of dragging feet, but the stench gave it away. Undead. One, no, two by the sound of it. She'd never had to take on two of them at the same time before. She considered retracing her steps but the reason she took to the back streets in the first place was the fact that she'd spotted a bunch of the rotten things ahead. So unless she wanted to go around even more, she would have to fight her way through the two shamblers. The shuffling was getting dangerously closer so she knew it was then or never. She tightened her grip on the hammer and positioned her feet, shifting herself in such a way that she could strike the right spot in one blow. She didn't need excessive strength, just the right balance so gravity would do the work for her. The sound of dragging feet was now closer than ever. Three, two, one and then she hit the coming threat right in the temple. The creature fell with a thud. It had been a woman, about Anne's height, part of her face chewed off. The thud of the hammer followed by that of the falling corpse alerted the second creature so the woman repositioned herself. This time, she couldn't only rely on gravity and the element of surprise. This time, the undead.... thing was coming at her as fast as its rotten legs and brain allowed it to be, arms outstretched. The woman looked for an opening. Trying straight for the head was a no go as the putrid mess in front of her would have, no doubt, managed to grab her. She counted its steps in her mind and then took a further step back and, just as the creature was about to turn the corner, Anne tripped it, causing it to fall. She them dropped the hammer straight on its head with all her strength, the foul blood staining her shoes.

"I have to get moving before more of them come" she thought as she looked around her, making sure no other creatures were hiding or following her. The noise would have brought more of them in for sure so she only had very little time to get the hell out of there. As she emerged back on the main street, it seemed quiet once again and there was no sign of the undead. She only took a few steps, however, when, in the distance, she saw what looked like a diner. She thought about checking the place out but soon stopped in her tracks as she spotted what looked like an older man climb in through a broken window. She needed some supplies but was she ready to fight another living person for it? When she was with Hannah, the two had managed to avoid other people as well as the undead by sneaking around but, was that possible in a small town like Brookings? Just how many people were in it? Although wary of the stranger, Annie snuck up closer to the diner, sticking to shadows and hedges.

When she felt she was hidden well enough, the woman peeked over from her hiding place, careful not to make any noise. What she noticed convinced her even more that she should maybe keep her distance from other people. Two rather scary looking men entered the very building the older man was in. Were they together? Was the old man going to be alright? She couldn't bring herself to do anything other than watch and listen. Sure enough, soon after the two men walked in, Annie could hear the sounds of a shovel being smacked around and what sounded like a lot of fighting and struggling. With the amount of noise, the girl was surprised the dead hadn't been alerted yet. "I have to get out of here." she thought to herself. "If those guys come out and find me, who knows what might happen to me.". All her warning flags were on yet strangely enough, her curiosity forced her to stay. After what seemed like eternity, the sounds of struggle stopped. Not long after, the older man she'd seem climb inside walked out, a bit roughed up but seemingly unharmed. That was all she needed to know that he wasn't a friend of the scary looking ones. "Maybe he's nice." she thought. "Or at least, maybe he has a camp.... or water." her train of thought was now drifting towards some long-missed commodities. With slight hesitation in her thoughts, Anne gripped her hammer tight and slowly revealed herself to the old man.

"Uhm.... hey there." she spoke calmly as she slowly lifted her arms, her weapon in clear sight. "Easy, I'm not here to fight or anything." she went on, cautiously taking one step at a time towards the man. "I'm all alone. All I have is this hammer and an empty backpack. I promise."
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Old March 23rd, 2017 (3:35 PM).
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Klippy Klippy is offline
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Lou Henderson

4 : 2 : 3 : 1
Current Weight: 5



Lou pressed the phone up to his ear, waiting for the ringing, but it never came. He ended the call and tried again. This time he heard the dead tone in his ear, beeping loudly as the sound of gravel sliding underfoot caught his attention outside the truck. He turned and the stock boy was shuffling alongside the truck. His jaw was completely torn off and oozing, dark red blood covered his torso. Lou rolled down the window and nervously said, "What the hell's going on around here, kid?"

The stock boy stopped and turned, grasping against the door. Lou double-checked the lock. He stared at the young man to try and catch some sign of consciousness. He just seemed to be in a daze and his missing jaw made the sight even more horrific.

"I...I'm sorry, look. You came at me. You attacked me. I had to defend myself. I can't call anyone to get you help. G-go to the hospital, kid."

The stock boy didn't seem to acknowledge his suggestion, but continued slapping his hands across the door. Suddenly sirens whistled somewhere on Main Street. Maybe someone else called and can get them all some help!

Lou's stomach dropped as he finished the thought. A screeching sound rung out through the air and the sound of heavy metal objects scraping the asphalt sunk his hope even further. The stock boy began walking back towards the noises and it was then that Lou noticed the hammer he had used. It was right beside the door. He needed to protect himself, didn't he?

He turned the door handle and tentatively opened the door. The sounds from the street could be from some war zone. Screams, shouts, and...was that a gunshot? Lou rushed towards the door and grabbed the hammer, just as a bloody hand reached out for his arm. He toppled backwards as Gerald and the woman from inside stumbled their way into the alley. All the noise... Lou slid backwards as Gerald gurgled at him, diving on top of him. His grip was almost off the hammer, but he held tight and swung. The end of the hammer sunk deep into Gerald's skull with a sickening crunch. Lou pulled it from his head and brought it down harder once more. Gerald's gurgling stopped, as did his attempts to bite Lou.

Lou threw the limp body off his own as the woman began her own assault on him. He stuck the hammer out towards her open mouth and her teeth shattered upon contact with the metal. Her body was directly atop his and Lou's twisted thoughts brought him to a night a week ago with a hooker in almost the same position. He rolled the woman off of him and pinned her down. Her bony hands grasped at his body, but his weight kept her at bay.

He gripped the hammer tight and raised it high before apologizing and smashing it into her nose. She quit moving instantly, her hands crumpling to the ground. Lou puked. He had just murdered two people. It was self-defense...wasn't it?

Lou jumped up with one last look at his victims before getting back into the driver's seat of his truck. He needed to get out of here. He'd call the police and tell them what happened anonymously. Self-defense. He started the truck and hit the gas. He hadn't fully unhooked the trailer and the flimsy hooks jolted his truck slightly. He looked in his mirror as he turned out of the alley. He had felt a bump and looked back to see his tires rolling themselves over the dead woman's now-flattened face. He was feeling sick again.

He turned right out of the alley as two motorcycles roared past him on the street. The bikers were looking right at him. He honked his horn and pressed on the gas pedal harder. He'd been mugged before, but this was not the time or the place for it.

"Not today, mother ****ers."

He honked again and floored it. One of the bikers swung a baseball bat at his driver side window, shattering it into pieces. The second biker was on his right, attempting to aim a handgun at his head. Lou swerved the massive truck into the gunman. The bike was caught between the truck and a building as the man screamed in agony - crushed between the two. The baseball bat wielding biker threw the bat and pulled out a pistol. He didn't wait to fire. The first bullet hit his windshield and left a large crack. The second bullet ricocheted inside the truck, sending Lou's head spinning in terror. He swerved to hit the biker, but he was too slow. The biker had fallen back and turned right towards Main Street.

Lou breathed heavily and looked ahead again.

"Oh ****!"

He crashed through a fence onto a grassy baseball field. His head slammed into his steering wheel as he plowed through bleachers and stands. The truck rolled right into a pond as the trailer toppled over and slid further. It crashed into a statue, which itself fell over, and hit a large tree.

Lou's head was spinning as he looked up. A blue-and-white shoe, without a foot, lay at the other end of the pond. He turned off the engine as he felt himself slip into the darkness of unconsciousness.
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Old March 23rd, 2017 (9:40 PM).
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McGregor & Annie
3 Str | 3 Int | 2 Ag | 2 Char
2 Str | 3 Int | 3 Ag | 2 Char

Inventories:
Spoiler: McGregor

1 Knife (3/65)
1 Apple (3/65) (2 Food)
1 Cereal (1/65) (5 Food)

Total Weight = 7/65
Total Food = 7/???


Spoiler: Annie
1 Hammer

McGregor stretched his muscles and pleasingly found that other than his aching head he was totally fine. No damage to anything that would make it harder to fight something or run away, both abilities that were important to maintain in the midst of the zombie apocalypse. Satisfied that he was able to keep up with his hunt for supplies, he set off again. There was no rest for the wicked and he needed both supplies and somewhere to stay. Unfortunately, fate seemed determined to intervene with that mission. He became aware of someone off behind him and to the side when he heard footsteps approaching. Whipping he around, he came face to face with a young woman with tanned skin, wavy brunette and, most importantly, a bloodstained hammer.

"Uhm.... hey there." the woman began, keeping her voice level and raising her hands "Easy, I'm not here to fight or anything." She continued taking slow steps towards McGregor "I'm all alone. All I have is this hammer and an empty backpack. I promise."

"Stop walking, keep talking." McGregor said, not making any really agressive moves but jerking the arm with the knife up slightly to indicate he was armed. "I'd rather not cut anyone else up today if it can be avoided but I'd to be sure I can trust you. Who are, why are you here, what do you want?" McGregor was aware that he wasn't being the politest he could be, but he knew that human beings were the most dangerous and unpredictable element in any disaster. "You've got ten seconds to start talking."

Anne noticed the man's knife and stopped in her tracks. Her brain started sending her mixed signals about the person in front of her. She wasn't sure anymore that revealing herself was the most prudent of ideas. On the other hand, she could understand why he would be on guard about her or... well, anyone for the matter.

"My name's Anne" she said as her eyes darted around for possible escape routes should things grow unstable or dangerous. "I was studying Biology at Caltech when this whole thing started. I came here with a friend, looking for someone who had promised me a ride but I was too late. About two or three weeks too late...". The young woman's mind had already formulated an escape plan by the time she finished talking. She kept her guard up as her eyes followed the man's every movement, waiting for him to react.

"So now what? Are you looking for somewhere to go? You already have somewhere?" McGregor asked. It was possible that the woman already had some sort of shelter or place to stay and that she could put he and JJ up at least temporarily. If he was really lucky, she might know where they could pick up some useful supplies or something. "I'll be frank. Me and the kid I'm travelling with only just got here and we're looking around the area for supplies and a place to set ourselves up for a while. I need to find food, weapons and a place to hole ourseves up and I then I need to meet up with the kid. I don't really care if you want to come along or not, but if you're tagging along with me you should make yourself useful."

Anne was slightly disappointed to hear that the man didn't have a camp but she didn't let that bring her down. She knew that, for her own safety, the best course of action was for her to become part of a group. And hey, even an old man and a kid were better than being alone. Besides, it seemed that both of them shared her goals to some extent. While listening to what the man had to say, the young woman remembered a place she'd passed by earlier in the day so she decided to bring it up.

"Sadly,I don't have a group, or a place but I might have some valuable information for you. I'll share and you take me along." she said but didn't wait for the man's aproval before she continued. "There's a hardware store a block or two back. I passed by it earlier, on my way here. Big place. Windows are still intact. I thought I heard movement inside so I didn't dare try the door. I think there might be a bunch of those dead ones in there, or who knows, there might be other people. I know it's risky, but the place should have some tools we could use as weapons, maybe some hammers or some such. They most likely have materials and parts that we might need should we find a place to settle in."

In an attempt to make herself useful enough that the man would take her along, Annie had just used her one and only bargaining chip. She knew that what she did was quite risky and foolish, but she was also well aware that the place she'd just brought up definitely wasn't safe for only one person to wander in. Big, dark store with plenty of blind spots and possibly infested with the dead? There was no way an old man would get out of there in one piece should he choose to give it a try all by himself.

"I might not look strong and yes, maybe I would be in great trouble against humans, but I'm smart and agile enough to deal with the rotten ones. Plus, I'm quite good at sneaking too. I mean, you didn't even know I'd been watching you for a while until I chose to reveal myself." she boasted, trying to up her value to this possible soon to be small group. "So then... are we going to partner up mister.... hey, I don't believe you told me your name."

"McGregor" he offered, using his surname isntead of his given - a habit he'd picked up many years ago. There wasn't much to consider here. Hardware stores were excellent places to grab useful supplies like nails, wood and weaponry. If the building was already heavily infested, he wouldn't be using it as a base of any sort and he wouldn't find any food there, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. "I guess you're sticking with us then. Lead the way."

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Old March 29th, 2017 (5:43 PM).
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Join Date: Nov 2014
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Jake “JJ” Johnson





1 Str | 2 Stm | 3 Chr | 4 Int
Weight: 11/30
Inventory





















Nobody ever really mentioned how heavy baseball bats were. You saw people swing them around like crazy, but just carrying on around in case you needed to bash some undead skulls in.

JJ turned the corner and saw a familiar sign that seemed to glow in holy light as he turned the corner. He had just stumbled upon the tomb of sir Galahad, inside of which he would surely find that golden chalice from which Jesus had taken his last sip.

“Starbucks… oh please god have some coffee left.” JJ whispered as he almost floated forwards towards the green angelic being on the green and white sign before him.

However, several noises made him stop in his tracks. It wasn’t the usual groans of the not quite dead that made him stop. There weren’t actually any of those around which was an oddity in and of itself. It was, in fact, the voices of several people inside the building. Seemingly arguing with one another.

“-‘t care Kenny! You’re not ta-“ The first voice shouted. This voice was rather deep, probably belonging to an older man of African American descent.

“Shut the hell up Lee! I’ve had it with your-” JJ tried to press his ear closer to the wall. “-decisions.” A man with a slurred southern accent retorted.”

“BOTH of you need to be quiet!” A small feminine voice shouted. JJ cocked his head at this. A little girl? That wasn’t something you saw, or heard rather, every day.

JJ pulled away. He would have to tell McGreggor about this. A crash from the window above him drew his attention. An empty can fell to the ground and glass rained down over his head.

“Adriana!” Both of the men shouted.

“What on earth are you doing child!” An older woman growled. “You’re such a pain in the ass!” She complained as someone stomped around.

(“Muk!”) JJ cried as he started rushing away from the open window.

“Hey there’s someone out there!” The woman shouted to her comrades.

“Get back here!” One of the men shouted, but at this point JJ wasn’t paying attention. He was just running. He didn’t care that the doors to the Starbucks were bursting open. He didn’t care that he was wearing one shoe and had a blood-stained foot from running over some broken glass that he hadn’t been paying attention too. He didn’t really even care about finding McGreggor. He just wanted to get away from the several roaring motorcycles that were coming down the road behind him.

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Old April 2nd, 2017 (10:32 AM).
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aeternum aeternum is offline
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Jeremy Collins


The Waiting Game - Evening

“I’m home boys.” Jeremy called out as he entered the residence, closing the door lightly behind himself. His voice echoed through the halls but came with no response. “Boys?” he called out once more as he hung his bag and coat on one of the hooks behind the door and stepped into the foyer.

“Welcome home master Jeremy.” One of the two maids that his ex-wife had hired lowered her head as her co-employer entered the room.

“Mary.” Jeremy nodded his head. “Where are the boys? I’d expected them to be home and happy to see me after so long.”

“I’m afraid that Suzanne took the boys down to the harbor to teach them about marine life. Mistress Abigail said that you would be coming tomorrow so Suzanne had decided to take the boys on a field trip in the time being.”

“Well then, give her a call for me would you? I’ll be unpacking my things if you don’t mind. I’d like the boys back before dinner so that we can catch up.”

“Yes sir. Although, I should say that they’ll likely be back by the afternoon. Since that is the schedule that Ms. Abigail had created.”

“I understand Mary. But please, if you don’t mind, could you humor me and see if they might not come home a bit sooner?”

“I will try my best. I’ll leave you to your items.”

Jeremy sighed and took his bag from the hook behind the door and headed down one of the many hallways to the master bedroom. The opening of the door bombarded him with a slew of aromas which brought back memories of a time long lost. Fresh cinnamon sticks on the dresser. Floral printed, lilac scented bed sheets. Sticks of incense left out and about, and a half-empty bottle of Curve Crush sitting next to them. He wasn’t entirely sure what the purpose was; perhaps some sort of twisted torture method that Abby had read about in her free time. Regardless, the blanket of nostalgia - and nausea from the mixture of conflicting scents - that wrapped around him made Jeremy long for the embrace of his ex-wife, if only a little.

“Damn.” Jeremy smiled slightly, the corner of his lip twisting up the slightest amount of pain as he sighed. “You still get me Abby.”

The ex-politician removed his wrinkled dress shirt and slacks, laying them over a chair in the corner before flopping down in the bed face first. Burying his nose in the sheets and closing his eyes, it was almost as if she were still here. Sure, he was the one who had suggested that they get the divorce in the first place but it still hurt to be apart from her. Taking in a big whiff of the lilac infused into the sheets, he scrunched up a large portion of them into his fist and then passed out as a tear fell from his eye. No point staying awake now if the kids weren’t even around. Best to save his strength for later. For the boys.

Several hours passed by and Jeremy was awoken by the scent of a cooking casserole. Allured by the aroma, he lifted his body from the bed and stretched out his arms as he yawned deeply. Putting on one of the housecoats from the closet, the man groggily shuffled into the kitchen.

“What’re you making?” Jeremy asked the maid as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Something new I’ve been trying to perfect. While the others are out of the house, if there’s no other work to be done I like to spend my time creating new dishes. Just a little hobby I suppose.”

“How long?”

“Oh, well I’ve been cooking for-”

“No, how long have I been out? Sorry.”

“Oh,” the maid twisted her finger in one of the curls which dangled in front of her brow, “I’m not quite sure. I called Suzanne at roughly nine and didn’t receive an answer, but that’s normal. It’s been… six hours since then?”

“Six hours? Muk.” Jeremy shook his head and then bit his lip. “All I’ve been doing this past week is sleeping. The hell’s wrong with me?” he whispered to himself.

“Well, it’s alright. They should be home at any time. Sometimes Suzy just forgets to check her phone is all. She’s a very dedicated teacher for the boys, you know? Sometimes she just gets so wrapped up in things. I remember there was one time…”

Jeremy sighed and fell into a chair at the kitchen table as the maid rambled on about her co-worker. Honestly, he couldn’t care less about what she had to say. Truly, he’d been waiting all week in anticipation for this meet-up for more than just one reason. The boys were going to be graduating soon, and none of them had been able to have a real discussion about where exactly they’d be going. Of course, Jeremy hoped that they’d come back home to Mena and attend a nice college in Arkansas. Might as well just follow in their parents footsteps the whole way and become politicians themselves. Jeremy stifled a laugh at his own joke and the maid mistook it for him actually paying any interest in her own train of thought.

“Right?” She chortled. “I understand that she has a few more duties than me, but really how hard is it to take care of the house and a couple of boys? When she gets back from those damned field trips she’s almost as lazy as-”

What a time to chime in. Jeremy rolled his eyes and looked out the window. The place really did have a nice view, and it was the perfect season too.

“I’m going to get some fresh air.” The man rose from his seat and walked to the large, sliding glass door and threw it open as he took a deep breath.

But what he was met with was not the pleasant smell of the ocean breeze. Nor was it the faroff odor of the factories in the distance behind them. Instead, what he was met with was the smell of rotting flesh and a muffled scream. Just then, a man rushed up to and tackled Jeremy to the ground, screaming at him and asking for help as he dripped blood onto the politician’s white shirt.

“Dammit don’t you hear a thing I’m saying?” The man shouted as he stared down at Jeremy. “We need help! The outbreak, it’s finally reached us! Oh God above, we’re all going to psyducking die out here aren’t we? My friend. My friend he was, he was right behind me and then… then they got him. Those monsters. They just. Grabbed. Him. I didn’t look back. I’d already seen too much in the city and on the news. Once they get you, you don’t get away man! It’s the end of the world I tell you!”

“Calm down,” Jeremy said as he lifted his back off the ground and placed his hands on the man’s shoulders to console him. “It’s all going to be alright. I’ll go grab my phone, you just wait right here. Mary? Will you get the first aid kit? The man’s clearly been attacked by some sort of animal and needs immediate treatment. I’ll go call nine-one-one and see if I can’t get ahold of Abigail and see if she has any prescription painkillers hidden around.”

Jeremy made his way back to his room quickly, pulling his cell phone from the front pocket of his bag. Quickly pulling up the number of his ex-wife, he attempted to dial her three times, each of which were immediately directed to voicemail. It was one thing he didn’t particularly miss about her. She never could seem to keep track of all her devices, and if she could then she just would neglect to charge them. She was unfortunately still stuck on landlines, and Jeremy had no idea what the number was for her new apartment.

Resolving to try her again later, he began to punch in the number for the paramedics when he heard a scream come from the kitchen. Dropping his phone, he rushed to the sound in a hurry. Slouched down in the sliding glass doorway was a man who was completely covered in blood and embracing the man whom Jeremy had initially brought into his home.

With a big gulp, Jeremy took a step towards the two men. “Well then, I suppose you must be-”

Just as he had begun to speak, Mary rushed forward and kicked the slouched man square in the jaw causing it to crack and his head to spin abruptly to the side. The body fell limp, and the maid quickly dropped to her knees next to the first man. Tears formed in her eyes as she struggled to find what to do with her hands. And when he turned his face, with his whole head shaking, Jeremy knew why. The man who had been embracing him had actually been tearing at this man’s face with his own teeth.

Jeremy gagged and suppressed the desire to vomit at the sight. One eyeball dangled free of its socket, and numerous teeth shone through mushed flesh as the man’s good eye darted around the room. His mouth moved, but no words formed. A few more seconds passed and then his whole body went limp. The maid continued to cry for several more minutes over the dead man’s body before rising to her feet and wiping her tears.

“Well,” she began, fighting through the tears and sucking the snot back up into her nose as she struggled to keep her composure. “Did you get a hold of the paramedics at least?”

Jeremy shook his head, and just as he did, the man whom they had both thought was dead reached out for Mary’s leg and pulled her to the ground, forcing himself onto her. Two more men shambled into the room and also fell onto the maid, tearing away at her skin with their nails and tearing into her flesh with their teeth. Jeremy backed up against the kitchen counter, completely unable to accept what was happening.

He remembered back to something he’d seen in a movie once a few years before. While not much of a fan of watching sports, the movie ‘The Blind Side’ had always really got to him on several occasions. And it was in this moment that he remembered a single line from it. Maybe if he was still asleep, this could wake him from this nightmare.

“Close your eyes. Now when I count to three, you open them. The past is gone. The world is good, and it’s all going to be okay. One... Two…”


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