[Other FULL] Outbreak: A Zombie Survival Roleplay (IC)

[Logical Cabbage]

Alejandra Vasquez​

The Gloomy Soda Cans​

As Alejandra tried her best to lay down in the cot provided from her, and she was extremely exhausted by the turn of events. She stared straight at the cat, and she saw its watchful, attentive eyes looming over her. Underneath her provided pillow, she felt her two magazines she gained, although her regrets were for losing both of her knives in one day. She also remembered the two soda cans she had, gathering them after the woman there, or the nurse, had examined and healed her cut on the forehead, an awful stitch ran across it. Luckily though, it hadn't been infected. She was just walking back when she saw the sodas, and Alejandra helped herself to two of them. As she did this, she saw the cat, hissing and watching her. She felt the darkness creep in the refuge center, and she closed her eyes, just like she did back on the ride.

Truth be told, she didn't trust anyone much, and nearly half of them looked a bit unstable, especially the teens in the group. Their rebellious blood and their innocence will be their downfall for sure, Alejandra thought. She would give this place and the people a shot, a week by the most. Then after that, she'll either fully allege to this group or become a nomad, surviving the wilderness. She'd kept a few eyes out for the young, especially this one girl, full of brown hair that covers some of her face, and with her sword, it looking too deadly for someone her age. She vaguely remembered that same girl feeding a dead rat to the cat. It wasn't particularly gross, after all, her stomach was used to dead, rotten bodies lad in the table, few pieces of flesh left, some organs intact, and the bones, always showing her how each person died. She missed those days, unlike the dead that now loom over them, the biggest, common enemy of their entire lives. Could it be that just two days ago, she was just an intern working aside others? Alejandra was just weeks from getting her orals done, and now, she's just lying on the cot, the fear trying to sting her.

Could it be that less than twelve hours ago, I was on a flight to Washington state? It seems like ages... Alejandra let an eye open, and she saw the cat observing her, but there wasn't a chance that Alejandra was going to feed it. She loved cats, but she wasn't sure she wanted a distraction right now; after all, she needed to think. She closed her eye, and she let her thoughts fly. Turns out they weren't that far from Washington; they're in Oregon, but the walking distance to there seems like a bunch. She thought of the two men that had rescued them, Kin and Bratton. She didn't exactly trust them, especially considering the fact she had no idea of their motives, but there's nothing she could do about it. They did rescue them, and oddly took the risk for it. There wasn't a doubt how they found out, but why they wanted them was a mystery. She especially didn't trust Bratton's nature. But what about the others? Tomorrow, she decided, she was going to do some mingling with the surviving passengers. She could find potential allies, although she wasn't sure who she wanted: a very easy person to manipulate or someone who was like her. She felt the deep sensation in her, and soon her thoughts were lost to sleep. Her final thought was to keep a neutral mind, and the cat's meow had silenced her.

 

[jombii]

Dennis Plum​

Town​

Inventory: 1/15

Dennis tried to bring his breathing back to normal. The smoke and fire from the plane debris and the crash site did nothing to improve his condition. Plus, the amount of groaning from dead people did not really help to calm his nerves. There were several people in the back, survivors from the plane crash. The driver revved his engine up, nodding to another passenger sandwiched between him and Dennis. It was pretty dark so Dennis had a hard time looking at the man's features as the driver was probably saving gas and battery.

Dennis kept his eyes peeled on the road, his breath coming in long now. It was a good sign, as short rapid gasps signify shortness of breath. There were countless of vehicles on the road, most of them stopped in the middle of the street so the truck would be forced to navigate around these vehicles. There were also shambling corpses on the road but they posed no harm to the survivors inside the truck as it simply barrelled them down. The passenger beside Dennis took several soda and started handing them to the people on the back before handing one to Dennis. He was thirsty so he drank it all in one gulp, the fizz drawing a line in his throat. He threw the empty can outside the window.

Nobody was talking during the journey, not even the driver nor the passenger beside him. There were some people snoring at the back of the truck. Dennis decided to keep silent, although he has a few questions to their saviors. Questions could wait. It could wait. Rest is far more important. Dennis thought as he drifted off to sleep.

-

He woke as he heard someone whistle. They arrived at a town with mostly empty buildings. Dead, Dennis thought. There was a fence impending their travel but it slowly groaned open, letting the truck into the street. Once they were through, the gate was closed again, although Dennis could not see who was operating it. The truck stopped at a mid-rise building with lights. The driver got out and the passenger beside him beckoned Dennis to follow the man.

"The name's McKinley Burr, but folks around here just call me "Kin". It sure was lucky we found you people. I was afraid we'd only find those undead bastards. Anyway, welcome to Ukiah, Oregon," the man started. Oregon. We're far from our destination, my god. Dennis took the time to look at his fellow survivors. Most of them were males, although there are still several females in the group. There was the male with a make-shift sling using one of the plane blankets. And also the two girls, both with wild look on their eyes, who were just slaying the zombies when Dennis woke up. Another female with a cut on her head. She looks confused. And someone who looks like to be part-military from the way he carried himself. Most of them were injured but none seemed to be in the brink of death. "In a way, you're lucky your plane crashed here. Ukiah's one of the smallest towns in the state and most of the zombies avoid us here. The problem is that a lot of them saw the lights and sounds from your crash and are now wandering closer to town. I guess there's not much else for us to do tonight. It's late and you're all tired, I'm sure. We'll set you up with some spare cots. We don't have enough pillows or blankets though, but we can worry about that another time."

Dennis have already slept but a few more hours of blissful sleep would be fine. He knew it would not be dreamless, oh no, but he hoped it would not wake him up in the middle of the night, sweating and gasping for breath. Again.

Another man walked towards the group. From they way he carried himself, he seemed to be a military man, with a pair of dog tags hanging around from his neck. He wore a pistol on his side. "Ah! Here's our little shelter's leader...this here's the man that gave you your drinks."

"Good God is it good to see some breathing faces! First Lieutenant Jim Bratton. I'm from up near the Umatilla Chem Depot, but that's not important now. What is important is that we make sure none of you are bitten. Once you're all checked out, we'll let you rest. This is just precautionary, 'cause I sure as **** don't want to wind up as zombie chow in the middle of the night. Anyway, Kin here'll check you out. In the morning, you can meet some of the others and we'll let you know the situation further. Glad to see a few of you made it, at least." The lieutenant took Kin aside and whispered something to him, with the latter nodding in agreement. Jim took one last look at the survivors before leaving. Kin had them all lined up. He inspected each on thoroughly for any signs of bites or scratches but none of them seemed to be worse for wear.

When everything seemed to be in order, Kin left the survivors. One by one, each of them got their own space, tired from everything that had happened that day. Introductions would come in the following day, but tonight would be for rest and calm. He heard a cat purr before sleep took Dennis.

Italic block text is perception I guess

 

[Klippy]

DAY ONE - CHOICES​

You may select EITHER Scenario A or Scenario B. Please be advised of all attribute-based requirements and keep in mind the differences between danger levels AND loot possibilities on each scenario. All loot has limits - be aware of them.​

---

CHARACTER INTRO


It was well past midnight and the moon was bright in the sky. Screeching car tires echoed through the night. Kin looked up from his cot and out the window. A vehicle was driving down the road quickly, swerving here and there to avoid abandoned cars. The driver suddenly lost control, slamming into one of the corpses on the road, and the vehicle crashed into a building just outside the shelter. Kin hopped out of bed, limping from his bad knee and the cold night. He rushed downstairs and out the door to check in with the night guard.

A young woman had crashed her Volkswagen Bug into the toy store across the street. Two of the guards were bringing her into the shelter as Kin assessed the damage from behind the fence. The door shut behind him with an echo. The store didn't look too badly damaged, but the car was totaled. His men had siphoned the last of the gas in the car and brought it in for the generator. Kin sighed, relieved the young woman was alive, but annoyed that she had to ruin one of their buildings in town.

He limped back inside. The crash survivors were all asleep and Tobias, his cat, was nestled near the door that went back upstairs. Kin scratched the cat's head, then limped over to the young woman, unconscious from the car crash. He checked her over for bites or scratches, but nothing indicated she was bitten. He looked up and smiled at the survivors. He was glad for them. Glad they had survived.

Kin opened the door to the staircase and Tobias jaunted up the flight of stairs. Kin limped his way up slowly before laying down on his cot. Tobias was already nestled by the window, seemingly asleep. Kin closed his eyes and, before long, he was asleep too.​

---

Bright sunlight let the survivors of the flight know it was morning. The shuffle of feet above them and the slamming of doors woke the entire group up. Before anyone could even get up, Kin walked in to greet everyone and fill everyone in on what the situation was.

Mornin', folks. Glad to see you all up. You're all lookin' a bit worse for wear, but heck...after the night you had, I couldn't fault you. But listen...I've got some stuff to fill you in on before we go any further and it's not the best news in the world. Bratton got word by radio that the military is pulling out of Washington. Someone let one of those creepers in accidentally and the entire refugee camp ya'll were expecting to get to has been overrun. He's been trying to reach his captain, but he's only gettin' static back.

Unfortunately, that's the bad news. The good news is that you're all safe here for now and we're set up pretty decently for hardly any time to prepare. I'm gonna need some help though. Bratton's handling defenses, recon, and other tasks like that for the time, but he's put me in charge of day-to-day survival and safety. This is where ya'll are gonna have to come in. I've got a bum leg and can't do much traveling, especially not into town. I'm damn useful with a gun, but the one I've got hasn't got a round to spare right now.

I'm going to need ya'll to split into two teams to do some looting for us. We're running damn low on food, but the folks in town here are either behind these fences or fled for Washington early on when this started, so there's still a bit of stuff around to collect. I need one team to head over to the Food Mart on Main Street (Scenario A). There's gotta be some grub left there. Get what you can and bring it back so we can add it to our shelter's food supply. You're gonna have to be extra careful though. The zombies made it into town last night from your crash and the ones that haven't moved on are lingering around the town.

If that doesn't sound too appealing, you'll need to help me begin preparing to defend this place. The fences we have up will do fine in a pinch, but if those zombies start noticing us, too many of 'em will cause the fences to collapse. You'll be taking a trip out of town, about an hour's walk, to the Home Fixin' store to gather up some wood, nails, and all those other things we need to start fortifying the fence (Scenario B). Right now, we're sittin' at about a quarter of the strength we need to keep the fences up, so I'll need a good amount to get things started on it. You'll have less zombies to worry about out there. It's the middle of nowhere, but there's been talk of looters taking advantage of the chaos and stealin' **** from around here.

Anyway, it's up to you folks. I won't force you to pick either task, but they gotta get done.

Once Kin finished, he let the flight survivors know the locations of the two stores on a map and left them to decide where they were going. After getting themselves ready, the group departed together. The main gate was opened by the guard who wished them luck as they stepped out into a trash-littered street full of a few corpses and abandoned vehicles.

The group noticed a zombie nearby, but the guard told them he would handle it. He pulled out a long machete as he approached the man. He raised the machete up, then lowered it quickly as it sliced through the zombie's head. The zombie collapsed and the guard patted the zombie's pockets for loot. He reached into the zombie's left pocket and pulled something out. It was a plane ticket from Flight 846. The name on the ticket read "Baker, William". The guard threw the ticket away, wished the group luck again, and walked back behind the gate, closing it.

The two groups then went their separate ways.​

Scenario A

Spoiler:

Requirements

Agility: 2

Objectives

Objectives are goals you need to accomplish to advance the plot further. In order to continue on in the story, your character must accomplish these tasks during your day (post). Optional objectives are just that: optional. You can do them if you wish, but remember that the focus will always be on the main objectives.

☣ Get to the Food Mart on Main Street
☣ Avoid or kill zombies around and in the Food Mart
☣ Gather as much food as is available (check the limits and weights)

Danger Level

Danger Level indicates the amount of hazards you may face in this area. Zombies are a clear threat, but the higher the presence, the more dangerous they become. Hover your cursor over the threats to see their danger levels and whether you will need to expend agility to take care of them.

Available Loot

This area displays what loot you may find and collect at this location. Hover your cursor over all loot items and weapons to see their weight cost. Remember your Strength, as all items you pick up take up inventory space.

​

Scenario B

Spoiler:

Requirements

Agility: 2

Objectives

Objectives are goals you need to accomplish to advance the plot further. In order to continue on in the story, your character must accomplish these tasks during your day (post). Optional objectives are just that: optional. You can do them if you wish, but remember that the focus will always be on the main objectives.

☣ Get to the Home Fixin' store an hour's walk from town
☣ Avoid looters in the store (YOU CANNOT KILL THEM)
☣ Gather as many parts and supplies as is available (check the limits and weights)

Danger Level

Danger Level indicates the amount of hazards you may face in this area. Zombies are a clear threat, but the higher the presence, the more dangerous they become. Hover your cursor over the threats to see their danger levels and whether you will need to expend agility to take care of them.

Available Loot

This area displays what loot you may find and collect at this location. Hover your cursor over all loot items and weapons to see their weight cost. Remember your Strength, as all items you pick up take up inventory space.

​

Shelter
The shelter is the essential location for surviving a zombie plague like this. Throughout the story, repairing the shelter will become a necessary task and plot advances will hinge upon the safety and stability of the shelter. Events will occur that increase the chances of compromise to the shelter, so be aware of tasks. This area will display the current upgrades and integrity of the shelter.

FOOD: [23/100]
GAS: [57/100]
SAFETY: [27/100]
MORALE: [75/100]​

Group Perception
Perception is how you know what the group thinks of you. In your posts, you may (not required) include thoughts of the other survivors around you. Whether you like them or not, find them weird or dangerous, and whatever else you feel deserves a reaction/thought. The following GM post will display the average group perception of your character of the previous session. Try not to let your perception become dangerously bad!

POSITIVE - SLIGHTLY POSITIVE - MIXED - SLIGHTLY NEGATIVE - NEGATIVE - NO OPINION​

Mark Forrester - "family man", "could handle himself", "could be ally or threat"
Athena Crawford - "a bit unhinged", "need extra looking after", "unpredictable",
Alynx Cooper - "motherly", "reminded...of his wife" "wild eyes", "suspected...good at manipulating"
Alejandra Vasquez - "confused", "from seemingly nowhere"
Syren Shizumi
Dennis Plum
Nathan Hawke - "boisterous, but decent", "a threat"
Dick Remly - "stumbled into the apocalypse", "didn't seem prepared", "well enough"
Cassie Holloway - "in control", "need extra looking after", "far too calm",
Timothy McGreggor - "part-military", "military man", "older, rugged looking"
Alexandra Brikosi​

 

[jombii]

Dennis Plum​

Shelter​

Inventory: 1/15

Dennis could hear something banging and clanging around during the middle of the night but he paid it no heed. If no one screams, it could wait in the morning. However, he could hear Kin, the truck's driver, quietly hobbling around the room with that cat of his, purring. Dennis shuffled in his bed to open an eye. The man went out the building and Dennis has no idea what he was doing. Suddenly, some men carried an unconscious woman into the room and laid her on one of the mattresses. Kin hobbled back in, his knees betraying his facade of strength, and inspected the woman. Satisfied, he went up his room again.

Dennis saw all of this.

-

It was morning before Dennis realized he had fallen asleep. However, before the writer could get up, Kin was on them already, up and about as if he had been awake for the past hours already.

"Mornin', folks. Glad to see you all up," Kin said, smiling. One by one, the other survivors got up. Dennis tried to stretch his aching back, feeling some of the muscles contract, his own body protesting the quality of his sleep. Hell, you had sleep. That's something. That was a good news for Dennis as he was still surprised, and thankful, he survived that plane crash. Kin, however, had another idea. He started off with a news from Washington, saying that the safe zone there got overrun because some fool decided to let in one of the zombies. Guess, I really should be thankful for that plane crash.

"I'm gonna need some help though," Kin said after relaying them the daily news. "Bratton's handling defenses, recon, and other tasks like that for the time, but he's put me in charge of day-to-day survival and safety. This is where ya'll are gonna have to come in. I've got a bum leg and can't do much traveling, especially not into town. I'm damn useful with a gun, but the one I've got hasn't got a round to spare right now." He then explained how each of the survivors could help the shelter survive. There were two options and Dennis knew which one he should pick.

"Anyway, it's up to you folks. I won't force you to pick either task, but they gotta get done," Kin said. He then pointed out the two locations on the map he brought with him. Dennis knew where his person would go. While he preferred to stay in the shelter since his asthma could be a liability, he knew he needed to carry his own weight from now on. He need to show Kin and the rest that he deserves to survive. Else, they'll think of him as dead weight and that would suck more.

Looters are man; they could run fast. They could punch. They could think. And that makes them more dangerous than walkers. He knew he'll go with the first group, the one to run for food and other supplies. He would let others speak first though.

Never be a hero.

 

[Klippy]

Mark Forrester - Status: Slightly Sore
STR: 2, INT: 2, AGI: 3, CHA: 3
INVENTORY (2/15):

[1] [2]

Mark kept his eyes closed for awhile. The sounds around him indicated that there was still life to live and things to do, but his body was sore and his mind pained. He had dreamed of his wife and his boys. They were white-eyed and lifeless, yet they shuffled towards him, arms out as if desiring his embrace. He had given in to death and let them grab him, but the moment they sunk their teeth into him, he awoke, covered in a light sweat.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Kin enter the room and sat up to listen. Kin needed their help with the shelter. He let them know Washington was a no-go and Mark knew that meant there was no where else to go. He considered just finding a car and riding down into California, but something told him he was in no shape to be alone in this dangerous and unpredictable environment. Surprisingly, he felt safe among his fellow survivors. Some were a bit odd, granted, but none seemed threatening.

Kin finished his speech and let them decide which task they would be handling. Mark considered the choices and felt that the defenses of the shelter were more important than eating right now. If the shelter fell, they would be eaten and not eating, so Marks' priority was protecting himself and the others.

"I'll head to Home Fixin' and gather some materials," Mark said sheepishly, being the first to speak. Kin gave him a nod, a pat on the back, and pointed out how to get there most easily. Mark stepped back and let the others decide where they were going.

---

After some time, the group was leaving for their chosen tasks. Mark was going to be leading his group to Home Fixin', as he was first to volunteer, while the rest went to Food Mart. As the shelter gate was opened, a zombie was wandering nearby. The shelter guard ran up and quickly dispatched it with his machete, picking the corpse's pockets for any good gear.

All he had found was a ticket for Flight 846.

That poor guy didn't even have a chance. He was dead from the go. Mark felt bad for the now-dead man. That could've been Mark. That could've been any of them. The other group was going the opposite direction of the Home Fixin' group and Mark hoped he'd see them all back safe.

---

After the hour's walk to Home Fixin', Mark stood at the tree line, hidden from the store. Between him and the building was a deserted parking lot and that didn't bode well for getting in quick and unnoticed. Mark heard an echoing laugh sound from near the right side of the building. Frightened, he sunk back into the trees as two men turned the corner. They were armed with backpacks, masks and goggles, and knives at their hips. They slid open the doors of the store and entered, glancing back quickly before slamming the glass sliders hard. The glass shattered as they did so, leaving a giant gap where solid glass had been moments before.

There's our way in.

Mark whispered to the group, "Get in and get the supplies. Don't linger and don't get caught. Those two had knives and the best I've got is a stick, so be careful."

He didn't wait for an answer, but rushed from the trees into the parking lot. His heart was racing as his feet pounded the pavement, but nobody came out to kill him. He felt lucky for that, at least. When he reached the shattered door, he peaked in. The men were gone, but he could hear their voices deep in the warehouse-like building. He waved for the rest of his group to proceed, then entered alone.

The shelves were stacked twenty feet high, maybe higher, full of knick-knacks and home repair items like paint, door knobs, and light fixtures. Mark bypassed every aisle with caution. One wrong move could alert the looters and he had no idea where his fellow survivors were, so his mistake could cost everyone if he wasn't careful. He had gone four aisles deep when one of the looters walked past. Mark had barely managed to fling himself behind a washing machine when the looter went by, but his goggles blocked half his field of vision it seemed. Mark snuck behind him and approached an aisle with various home supplies in it.

There were several rolls of toilet paper and paper towels around, but the paper towels were covered in a bright red paint. Mark realized later that had been someone's blood. He grabbed two rolls of toilet paper off the shelf and snuck down to the end of the row. About ten aisles back was wood materials and building supplies. He inched his way down there, the echoing booms of looter laughter from the distance chilling his spine. He reached the wood piles and began loading up.

He realized he couldn't carry all of this back and resigned himself to the fact that creature comforts like toilet paper would have to come second to safety as well. He loaded up with three sets of parts, a pair of nail sets, and dropped the two rolls of toilet paper. He heard a clatter behind him and before he knew it, the two looters he had seen enter the store were on him.

Mark shouted out to his group, but one of the looters threw a punch and it collided with Mark's left eye. He fell back, tripping on the pile of wood, and the looter was on top of him before he could even blink. Mark grasped for his wooden stick, but the second looter stepped on his fingers and kicked it out of reach. Mark screamed in pain, realizing his gashed arm had torn open again. Blood was gushing out onto the concrete floor.

The looter on top of Mark shouted out, "We found us a little piggy, boys!" Mark heard shouts and whoops of triumph from another part of the store. ****. There's more of them than these two. My group isn't safe! Mark received another punch to his left eye. His arm was stinging with pain, but he balled his hand into a fist and gave the looter on top of him a good whack in the head. The looter's mask tore and he jumped up to fix it.

Mark seized his chance. He grabbed the wood and nails he had collected and even a roll of toilet paper and sprinted from the aisle. The two looters were giving chase, but Mark didn't know how far back they were. His stick was gone and he couldn't keep fighting them with his arm dripping with blood. He reached the doors, but heard voices and noises echoing throughout the store. He shouted out, "Run, everyone! There's too many of them!"

Before he knew it, he was back across the parking lot and in the tree line. His knees gave out and he collapsed onto the grass. He had barely survived that and realized more than ever how sick humans could be. Maria...I hope you're safe. Mark didn't see anyone else yet, so he waited. The two looters hadn't followed him out, but that just meant the others had two extra psychopaths to deal with.

Suddenly, he saw the older man in his group rushing out towards the trees. He didn't look injured and he was carrying a lot. Mark flagged him down. His name was Mc...McGregor, I think. McGregor looked him over before saying, "Listen, it's going to be all right." He sounded calm, but Mark had adrenaline coursing through his body, so he couldn't imagine this man was calm. "Put some pressure on that wound. I'm going back in to help the others."

Mark nodded, feeling slightly woozy. He took some of the toilet paper he had collected and wrapped his wound with it. It wasn't ideal, but it was good for keeping his arm from bleeding everywhere. He wound up wasting half the roll, but his arm felt less painful after wrapping it. He breathed some relief, but now he was alone again and the echoing shouts and clattering noise filled him with dread.

---

New Inventory (15/15):

​

 

[Logical Cabbage]

Alejandra Vasquez​

A Tale Dark and Rotten​

Things can be worse, Alejandra assured herself. You can be doing some Mortal Combact with looters. She frowned, feeling bare without a weapon, as her group walked to Food Mart on Main Street. She actually got some decent sleep, and there were no nightmares to fear of. At least for now, she told herself. It didn't excite her that they'll just face zombies, probably less than half of her group armed. Alejandra was regretting already going to fetch the food, and at least if she went to the hardware store, she could find some sort of tool of defense to handle. Unless the mart had cans useful to throw at or kitchen knives, meeting with a zombie and she's a goner for sure. Then again, Alejandra thought, at least zombies you can deceive with ease. With another person that can process information, that's another story. She wasn't sure how would she carry much, but at least she had speed, and her concussion was improving. A light dizziness here and there, but she was frankly better. She wasn't surprised that the leader sent the survivors already to work. Actually, she was looking forward to it, anything to distract her mind. For now, she'll stay put, obey the group, and she'll see how it goes. Alejandra didn't make any sort of mingling as they came closer to Main Street, mainly because sound would attract the dead.

She stopped right in her tracks as she heard moaning close to them, and Alejandra felt the back of her hairs sticking up. She tried to not make a sound as she looked in front of her, and she was glad that the mart was not far, just a couple of yards. She looked sideways, trying to see if the zombies do lurk nearby, but there was none in sight. She was trying to decide whether to wait for the group or sprint inside when she saw shadows emerge from behind the local houses, and she broke off into a run. It briefly occurred to Alejandra there could be more inside, but she shook the thoughts off. Dwelling on fright wouldn't help her, instead she needed to remain stoic. Crying down wouldn't benefit anyone, and pity is probably one of those morals that ceased to exist. She entered the dark mart, the only light provided was the sunlight from outside. She definitely didn't like the stench, the air filled with scents of molding food and dead. She wrinkled her nose slightly before she took a deep breath in, and then the smell no longer distracting her. Alejandra made her way down to the isle, and took the one that stated Isle 5E, some products available were coffee, cereal, sugar, and spices. I wonder how much is actually left, she thought as she made her way down.

Alejandra was prepared for it, but she was still disappointed that most of the food gone, and whatever remained was wasted in broken stacks. She could have used some coffee, but oh well. There's nothing to do in situations like these. She was observing the rubble when she found two cereal boxes, intact to the destruction around them. She lifted them up, and she sighed in relief as she checked to make sure they weren't broken. I wonder how the other group is doing, with them looters and all. They probably found more things there than what is available here, at least based on the odds. Her thoughts was interrupted by the moaning, and she turned her head around just to see a zombie, a female of probably fifty, walked huched over, seeing Alejandra as her next meal. With the rubble, she threw some loose empty cans at the zombie, and it let out a horrible shriek. She hoped the others made it in and she saw a second zombie, a tall one of six feet tall, a man in his early thirties, approached the two. Alejandra knew running wouldn't do, but she can't stay there either. Her feet stayed planted though, and she skimmed around, trying to find what to use.

 

[gimmepie]

Capt. Timothy McGregor
3 Str | 3 Int | 2 Ag | 2 Char
Status: Battered and bruised but otherwise unharmed.
Inventory:

Spoiler:

1x Broken Stick (Weight 2/20)
1x Can of Drink (Weight 1/20)

Total Weight = 3/20

​

McGregor awoke with sore bruises and stiff back, but he was feeling quite revitalised considering his situation. He'd stayed up later than a lot of the other survivors, being well and truly awake when Kin had deposited the unconscious woman, but had remained unnoticed. He'd continued observing for a while longer, had made an effort to sharpen his stick and had then fallen asleep against the wall as he assessed Kin's behaviour towards the woman and determined she had been found elsewhere and brought it, he had thought he heard a crash earlier.

McGregor then listened to Kin's instructions and volunteered himself to obtain supplies from the Home Fixin' store, stating that he felt his expertise would be a lot more useful there than at a supermarket or a corner store. He disliked that someone had been chosen to lead the group simply because they volunteered first, but at least it was one of the men McGregor considered a possible ally. He didn't argue against the appointment though, McGregor respected chains of command and it as clear that only the soldier was ranked higher than Kin in the shelter's hierarchy.

---

"Get in and get the supplies. Don't linger and don't get caught. Those two had knives and the best I've got is a stick, so be careful."
McGregor, clutching his own, only barely sharpened, stick agreed with the leader's assessment. He decided that he had good common sense, but didn't feel he had a background like his own. Considering that, McGregor ran forward in half crouch, he was slower than others but he was second into the building since he reacted quicker to Mark's sudden break from cover. He'd experienced similar runs in Angola.

McGregor carefully stepped through the glass door, he would have stopped to grab a shard as a weapon but he didn't have the chance as others were coming through. Instead, McGregor crept through the isles, slipping passed the same looter as mark before moving down a different path. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that the place to go was the loading dock and storage in the back of the building. The outbreak had occurred very suddenly, so it was highly likely that any recent deliveries would still be back there in boxes.

McGregor, always in his half-crouch – his knees starting to ache more noticeably as a result – moved slowly towards the back of the store. A looter walked straight passed the police officer and down the next isle but he didn't notice him. Carefully a quietly McGregor moved onwards, slipping through an open door and into the back of the store. He crept down a dingy hall towards another open door. Voices could be heard loud and clear
"Marko was right" a man with a surprising Texan accent said "we was right to check these boxes back here. Look at all this stuff, exactly what we need."

McGregor pressed himself against the wall and peered around the corner before quickly moving out of view again. Three men were standing around a bunch of boxes and crates, several of which were open. A fourth was struggling to force open a large roller door, it seemed that something had caused it to become jammed shut.
"Will you assholes help me out here!" a voice that sounded a lot younger than the Texan yelled "We have to get this open for when Louie gets here with the truck." That was the fourth; McGregor guessed that he was in his early twenties at his youngest. What sounded like a slap to a face echoed through the room.
"You'd wanna treat us with some respect boy. Or else we'll throw you back to them zombies that were chowin' down on your daddy"

McGregor slipped into the room using the confusion as his chance. He ducked behind a large forklift that was sitting not too far from the crates and looters. He clutched his stick tighter.
Four targets, no firearms. I'll surprise them easily enough, but I'm going to be at a huge disadvantage. I need to get rid of them. McGregor looked at the door, a second door was closed and bolted next to where it was open, both had long rectangular bars for handles. That meant he could slide something through them. Like a plank of wood.
That could work

McGregor didn't like what he was going to have to do, but he seemed to really only have the one choice. Whilst the four had their backs turned, the police captain hurled his stick through the open door as hard as he could. It made a loud enough noise to grab the attention of the four looters.
"What was that?" a gravelly voice said
"I dunno, but I think I saw something moving out there" the Texan said "Jim, Boy, you two stay here and guard the loot. Dave and I are going to go and see if anyone managed to slip by the others."
McGregor edged back around to the corner of the forklift so the two men wouldn't see him as they left. Then, once he was sure they were gone he sprung into action. He ran forwards suddenly, reaching the younger man first. He didn't have any time to react before McGregor punched him in his stomach. When his young victim doubled over, winded and gasping he kicked him in the head causing him to drop to the floor.

By this time the last man had realized what was happening
"What the hell! HEY!" he shouted, McGregor new that the other two would be back soon, maybe with reinforcements. The looter ran forwards but he didn't get to land a blow on the former soldier. Timothy picked up one of the wooden planks and smacked his attacker over the head with it, the looter falling instantly to the ground where he lay moaning. McGregor didn't stop to see whether he got up, he ran towards the door, footsteps thundering towards it. He got there only second before a group of looters and slammed it shut. He pushed his weight against it as someone tried to force it open and jammed his plank through the handles of the two doors, sealing them shut.
"Open this door you freakin' rat bastard!" someone yelled as loud thumps continued to sound. McGregor turned to the two men still in the room. The young man was just getting back to his feet, McGregor grabbed him by the hair and slammed him into the roller door with a loud bang before throwing him to the concrete ground. He tried to get back up only to be kicked in the side. As the kid – well he looked like a kid to McGregor – rose to all fours, gasping for breath, Timothy spoke to him
"Don't be an idiot and stay down. I know you lot just want to survive too so I don't want to kill anybody. If you keep resisting though I'm going to have to because nobody is stopping me from staying alive to find my girl. Got it?" The youth nodded and crawled into a corner where he pulled his knees to his chin but otherwise remained silent. The other man was still breathing, but looked to be unconscious on the ground.

McGregor begun searching for supplies, taking useful parts he found in crates like wood, tape and nails and also an old newspaper and a couple of rolls of toiler paper. The latter three items were more for thins to burn than anything. The bag he'd taken from the shelter starting to get heavy, McGregor decided it would be unwise to carry any more. It was time instead to get out… and unfortunately there was only one way to do that: the jammed roller door. A loud scream echoed and shout and yells began in a furious din
""Run, everyone! There's too many of them!" McGregor heard though the unintelligible noise.
"Shit! I don't have time to sit here struggling with a freaking roller door and a welcoming committee out through the hall."

Choked laughter filled McGregor's ears, the cop looking down to see the man he'd hit with the plank laughing at him from the floor.
"All your buddies are dead! We're gonna get them all and then we're gonna find this girl of yours and skin her alive!" McGregor's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to horrible, cold tone
"Nobody will hurt my daughter. Nobody." The laughter intensified as did the shouts from back in the store
"Oh so it's a little one is it? That's okay, we can take goo care of her for you once you're dead. Real. Good. Care."

McGregor had heard enough, he kicked the downed man hard in the face knocking him unconscious once more, and in a frenzied and reckless mood he went over the forklift. He grinned wildly at the keys still being in it. Timothy climbed into the seat and turned the key, the engine spluttered but didn't start. Desperation gripping him, the unconscious looter's laughter ringing in his head McGregor tried over and over, before at last the engine spluttered to life. A few more minutes went by as he worked out how to drive the vehicle – time he knew he couldn't afford. Steeling himself McGregor sped the vehicle to its maximum speed and aimed right for the door. With a loud crash the forklift flew through the surprisingly flimsy door and crashed into the ground below on its side.

McGregor groaned as for a moment his vision flickered black, then as his sight returned he climbed out of the wrecked forklift and ran down the side of the store. Coming into the parking lot just in time to see Mark vanish passed the tree line. McGregor followed him, hoping he was the last one out and arrived in the grassy area beyond the trees to see Mark lying there. McGregor checked him over, noting his bleeding arm.
"Listen, it's going to be all right." McGregor said, just the same as he would to a victim or victim's family – his voice measured and (falsely) calm "Put some pressure on that wound. I'm going back in to help the others."

With that, McGregor turned and, after taking a deep breath to steady himself, ran back towards the building to help out any surviving members of their group.

Status Update: Minor head trauma and aching body from crash, still capable.

Inventory Update:

-1 Stick
+2 Parts (Weight 8/20)
+6 Nails (Weight 3/20)
+1 Old Newspaper (Weight 1/20)
+2 Toilet Paper (Weight 4/20)

New Total Weight = 17/20​

 

[Necrum]

Dick didn't say anything the whole night. He was too busy brooding over how close they were; how close they had gotten. And yet they were stuck miles from Portland, miles from Boring. As he sat in silence, unable to sleep, he scratched softly at a small card. It was a lotto ticket he had bought before he left the cassino (with the last of what remained of his rent). He figured it would be more lucky to scratch it when he gets home.

It was a total bust. Didn't break even. He crushed the ticket in his fist, and contorted his face in such a manner that few human beings were capable of reproducing. Somehow Dick had been blessed with the perfect genes and muscle structure to produce the most unpleasant looks of disgust.

The cat kept away the entire night. Such creatures are masters of reading a person's energy, and Dick's energy right this instant was burning red. If it weren't for the stigma of society, he might have been inclined to go completely mad. But no matter how bad things get, people must be human.



Day 1

"I'll go to the Food Mart", Dick said with the determination of a grapefruit. It was the perfect opportunity to find some money, maybe even some winning tickets. "I'm too old to be scrapping with those hoodlums, they're unpredictable!"

To be continued... probably tomorrow...

 

[Arsenic]

Name: Nathan Hawke
Location: Ukiah, Oregon
Status: GREEN

My god. You'd think in a zombie apocalypse that people would at least attempt to be quieter, but no, all Nathan could hear was SLAM. Thud thud thud of everyone upstairs waking up and stomping around. He stared at the ceiling for a moment and sat up on his cot, fed up with the noise keeping him from going back to sleep. His jacket he was using as a blanket fell to the floor. He laid back down and let his jacket sit on the floor. Hawke heard a noise outside the room. He squinted through the bright light shining onto his face.

Kin opened the door and walked on onto the room. He told everyone he needed help with the shelter. He wanted some to go get food and others to go get supplies to help .

Two of the others survivors, the one who'd been next to him in the truck and the older gruff one, volunteered to go to the hardware store.

"I'll join the tool store I guess" He said through his Yorkshire accent as he picked his suit jacket off the floor and slung it back over his shoulders. He still was sore as hell, but he imagined he could walk out the pain.


The walk was long and uneventful. Long stretches of open road with the occasional empty car or two.

Hawke was now crouched down in the tree line. He watched as the leader of their little group surveyed the parking lot. Nathan crept up next to a tree and observed the area himself. The sound of laughter rose up to him quickly as two bandits rounded the back corner. They walked into the building and slammed the doors shut, the bottom glass shattering. There's probably a better way in than that Hawke thought to himself. The front door was almost always the worst way possible into a occupied building.

"Get in and get the supplies. Don't linger and don't get caught. Those two had knives and the best I've got is a stick, so be careful." The leader said quietly. Nathan snickered quietly

Their group leader then sprinted out of the woods and across the parking lot

"Are you f*cking kidding me.." He said aloud, now crouch-running after the man , who was now entering the store.

Nathan looked at all the glass on the floor as the two others walked right overs, seemingly oblivious to all the noise the crunching would make. He carefully stepped over as much of it as he could. The other two went in their own directions, but something caught his eye. It was a sleek black backpacking pack with nice orange accent straps. With his strength he could make use of it. He slipped behind the counter and gently pulled it over the edge. It landed in his lap and he rifled through it. It was completely empty save a roll of toilet paper. Nathan jumped back onto his feet with the pack over his shoulders and peeked over the counter.

Hawke made a break for the home repair section as soon as the coast was clear. The shelves were mostly bare, picked dry by these looters or others like them. Nathan found enough assorted parts to make 3 stacks and put them in his pack, and put the Magazine he'd been carrying neatly on the shelf. He continued combing the isle, where he found 4 containers of nails. He slipped them in his pack with his other stuff.

A commotion had broken out a few isles down. He could hear yelling and one of them sounded like part of their party. He quickly found a broken plank of wood on the floor and bent over to pick it up.

"Hey! That's MY backpack, asshole!" Someone yelled to his left.

Hawke felt a fist connect with the side of his face, sending him to the ground. A boy in his early 20s stood above him. Nathan sprung back up to his feet, with the board still in his hand.

"I'm not in the mood for this today you little bloke." Nathan spat out before swinging the board with all his might against the looters head. The plank broke in two sending splinters everywhere.

The man collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. Nathan grabbed the body and hid it behind some plywood sheets.

"Run, everyone! There's too many of them!" The party leader shouted, his voice echoing through the store

Hawke took the advice and headed for the door when he heard a giant crash from the back of the store. Most of the bandits headed for the sound. Nathan used the distraction to it's full potential and sped out the door.

He sprinted across the parking lot, passing the gruff man in their party, who was heading back.

"That's the wrong direction!" He yelled at O'Brien, or something like that. Nathan kept heading for the woods. He'd drop his gear and then go back and help O'Connor with what he was doing. Yeah! That sounded like a plan!

Nathan reached the treeline and found their team leader bleeding badly with toilet paper bandaging over it.

"I see ya opened that back up," He started. "How bad is it? I could make a tourniquet if you think its bad enough. I may not be a doctor but I've done a couple before."

Updated Inventory

Spoiler:

3x assorted tools
4x nails
1x Toilet paper
16/20 weight

 

[Oddball_]

Waking up.​

Status

Spoiler:

Bruised

Attributes:
Strength: 2
Agility: 3
Intelligence: 3
Charisma: 2

Inventory:

Earlier:
Alexandra was barely conscious as she was brought in. However it didn't take long for the wooziness that had occurred after the car crash to wear off, and she found herself in the lying on a cot with a man ban dating her arm. "Where... am I?"She muttered. "You made it to Ukiah, Oregon. Safest little hell hole this side of the Pacic." The man chuckled setting her arm down. "Aren't you a little young to be driving?" He continued. "I figure the rules no longer apply once the dead start eating people." Alex shrugged sitting up. "Naw, you'd better rest up. Bunch of folks here just escaped a plane crash, I reckon you'd fit right in with em. By the way, what's your name kid?" The man asked. "Alexandra Brikosi, most people just call me Alex." She replied laying back down. "Well I'm McKinley, Kin for short." Kin replied getting up too leave...

Present:
Alex stared into the window of the store. The power was off, but luckily the place was lit by the sun. Inside Alex saw a couple other survivors shuffling around, trying to avoid the Walkers inside. "Here goes nothing..." She muttered as she walked into the store. The shelves were mostly empty, Looters had already come through and cleared out most of the food. A groan escaped from behind her and she spun around to find a Walker crawling towards her. Alex backed away from the zombie and stumbled into a cart, which happened to make a lot of noise. "Oh Shit..." Alex groaned as she watched every head in the store turn towards her. "Fuck." Alex groaned. She grabbed the cart and ran behind it, and gave it a hard shove. It hit the Crawling Walker with a squishy thud. "One down... two... three to go." She muttered.
​

​

 

[jombii]

Dennis Plum​

Food Mart​

Inventory: 6/15

Dennis and a few others chose to go to the Food Mart. They never talked about their own reasons; to each his own. However, Dennis doesn't feel good since most of them were the less capable people of the group. Well, at first glance. Dennis knew there was something in each of them that made them survive the crash, whatever it is. Well, I am damn sure it's not my asthma. Dennis hoped he does not need his inhaler during the run. He lost his medicine during the crash. And I got a magazine, cool trade. The food mart group slowly ambled towards the direction of the Food Mart, very few of them in the mood to talk. In a matter of minutes, they would be in and out of the supply run, probably one or two of them gone to the void. Dennis shuddered at the thought.

Once they were in the sight of the Food Mart, they heard some loud moanings coming near them. All of them hid behind several things scattered on the road; Dennis chose a huge water container. They waited until the moanings disappear or a zombie appears, whichever comes first. However, the one whose hair wants to consume her whole face, decided to break off into a run. Stupid girl! She went inside the mart. Dennis was apprehensive of following her inside but when a full thirty second passed without happening, Dennis quickly sprinted towards the Food Mart door.

It smelled awful inside. Rot and decay seemed to have hung in the air itself, contaminating it. Plus, having the sunlight outside as it's only illumination doesn't help in the overall sanitation of the area. The girl started making her way to the aisles, so Dennis decided to do the same. Two people in the same aisle would be counterproductive so Dennis tried checking the cashier and the shelves near it.

The shelves were looted bare, except for a few boxes of open cereal. Dennis decided not to carry any of those as those could prove to be more fatal if rats or other things had taken residence inside. As he checked the fifth shelf, he thought he hit jackpot. He saw two unopened cereal boxes (one of those with the disgusting flavors) and a piece of apple, ripe and red and round. He decided to keep the apple to himself and stashed the cereal boxes in his bag. He left the magazine he got from the crash. Everything seemed to be good.

 

[TheSyren]

STATUS: Sore from Cot. Otherwise okay.

Strength: 1; Intelligence: 4; Agility: 3; Charisma: 2
Inventory: Soda (1), Rat (0); Weight: 1/10

[DAY] Location: Shelter
Syren woke with a start, his nightmare still fresh on his mind. He shook his head, trying to forget about a plane crash. He looked around and felt his heart sink: it wasn't a dream.
"Aww man, come on." He lifted his hand to his face and smoothed out his hair. "Apocalypses are such a drag." He groans as he picks himself off of the cot he had rested in, straining to stretch out his tired joints. Cots weren't comfortable, but he wasn't exactly used to sleeping in a bed either.
He slowly trudges over to the group, listening to the options the man in charge was giving. (what was his name, Syren thought. Was it King? I'll just call him sir.)
"I'll go to the hardware store."Syren said aloud. He wasn't very strong, but he was fast enough to get the things and get out. As the group departed for their destination, he left with the department store people. They walked for hours until they arrived at Home Fixin'. They hid in the woods right outside, watching looters break in.
"Get in and get the supplies." One guy whispered to the group. "Don't linger and don't get caught. Those two had knives and the best I've got is a stick, so be careful."
Syren looked at the speaker and looked him over. He seemed agile enough, probably just as fast as Syren, though a little stronger. He just had respect for him, though he didn't know why. Without an answer, the man bolted forward towards the store; Syren and the group followed suit.

Syren was sure to keep a low profile as he snuck in, his body low to the ground as he searched for supplies. Nails and boards were everywhere in the store, but he made sure to only get what he could carry, which was a rather small amount. He managed to find two sets of parts and two sets of nails, though he had to stop there due to the weight. He was alone on the far side of the building, and really wondered why there were supplies near the plumbing department; he decided not to think about it.
Suddenly, there was a lot of intelligible shouting. From what he could feel from the edge in the tone, people were in danger. Syren looked at his bag, and decided he had enough supplies for days. From the far side of the store, and engine rumbled to life, which startle Syren. What would make that sound? As if to answer the question, a rather old looking man drove a forklift through a door, crumpling it like paper. Syren sprinted, looking quickly back at the path the forklift had left, noticing a few thugs unconscious on the ground and quite a few supplies wasted, he bolted through the destroyed door and off into the woods, towards the area a few other survivors went.
"what an idiot." Syren mumbled under his breath. Not only had the man crashed and ruined what could have been a decent tool in the future, he destroyed the door that would keep the zombies out of the store, alerted the looters inside that many people had escaped the building, and managed to destroy some items that may have been used in the future. This man was way too impulsive and would get everyone killed. "I'll have to keep my distance from him; he drags in too much agro."
Syren finally made to the camp and sees a man bleeding; it was the leader type guy from the beginning. "Good, you made it out alive." He said, squatting down to look at the man's injury. Yeah, he'll need more than toilet paper to fix that.

Status: uninjured

Inventory: Soda, Rat, 2 nail sets, 2 sets of parts. Weight: 10/10

 

[Necrum]

Dick stared at the food mart, mouth wet at the thought of a good meal. Moreso knowing that a treasure trove was waiting inside: these places always sell Lotto tickets. And with the lack of competition, the odds of winning were...

One of the members, a girl, took off running. Dick had hardly been paying attention to them since they arrived, but the sudden burst of speed past them took him by surprise. Idiot. It didn't take long til the others followed suit. Dick pulled out his stick, the only thing he had left. The only thing he could rely on.

Dick made his way out towards the shop at a brisk pace, watching around as he made his approach. He noticed that their indiscretion had not gone unnoticed, and at least a few of the ghouls were now moving in toward their position. Picking up the pace, Dick neared the front doors of the food mart, and burst in in a huff.

"You rotten idiot!" Dick tried to keep himself from being too loud, but it wasn't really working. "Those things noticed us because you had to get in here so bad! I have half a mind to take this stick, and-" Dick stopped. He didn't need that kind of trouble right now. "Those things will be here in a matter of minutes, so I hope you have a plan of escape to go with your brilliant entrance!"

Finally able to see what was in the store, Dick's stomach sank. At the front desk, pretty much everything had been taken already. Cigarettes, candy, jerky- AND THE LOTTO TICKETS!!! Even the register was missing. Apparently someone else had the same idea Dick had. Once again, Dick's face contorted in that special way that only he was capable of.

 

[Klippy]

Mark Forrester - Status: Injured
STR: 2, INT: 2, AGI: 3, CHA: 3
INVENTORY (15/15):

---

Mark lifted himself up slightly. He heard footsteps and prepared himself for one of the looters. I guess dying wouldn't be so bad. Better than becoming a walking corpse. The footsteps muffled as a looming figure came into the treeline.

It was the man who had been clutching his shoulder after the crash. "Good, you made it out alive," he said, squatting near Mark to look at his bleeding wound. Mark said, "Yeah. I'm glad to see you're alive too. The name's Mark, by the way," Mark stuck out his uninjured arm for a handshake. "What the hell is going on in there?" This guy seemed decent. He had seen him with some type of cards before and asked, "Hey...if you have those cards on you, could you give me a reading?" Mark was always fascinated by the stuff. He chuckled slightly to himself. If the dead walk the earth, maybe these cards really can tell you something.

Mark looked out towards the store and saw a figure emerging from the makeshift entrance. It was the older man in his group. He didn't look injured and he was carrying a lot. His name was Mc...McGregor, I think. McGregor looked him over before saying, "Listen, it's going to be all right." He sounded calm, but Mark had adrenaline coursing through his body, so he couldn't imagine this man was calm. "Put some pressure on that wound. I'm going back in to help the others."

Mark nodded, feeling slightly woozy. He took some of the toilet paper he had collected and wrapped his wound with it. It wasn't ideal, but it was good for keeping his arm from bleeding everywhere. He wound up wasting half the roll, but his arm felt less painful after wrapping it. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, McGregor. Thank you." Mark said as McGregor turned and ran back towards Home Fixin'. That was a good guy, if any of the group was. He seemed to know what he was doing most of the time and certainly reminded Mark of his father.

"That's the wrong direction!" shouted the Englishman to McGregor as they passed each other in the parking lot. It seemed the man was coming to the treeline, loaded with supplies. He reached Mark and said, "I see ya opened that back up." Mark chuckled a bit, painfully aware of how silly his arm looked wrapped in already-soaked toilet paper. "How bad is it? I could make a tourniquet if you think its bad enough. I may not be a doctor but I've done a couple before."

Mark stuck his arm out for the man to look at it. He wasn't sure how anyone could have fixed this unless they had some medical experience. "Uh, thanks..." Mark said quietly, "My name's Mark. Mark Forrester. And you are?"
​

 

[Klippy]

NIGHT ONE - YOUR FELLOW MAN​

---

CHARACTER OUTRO


Cooper grabbed Michigan's hand and began running. The group was inside the store and she was taking her chance to flee the group. Michigan seemed to follow her lead and kept pace, but the sounds of shouts and noise from inside the Food Mart caused Cooper to look back in doubt. Michigan yelled out and she wheeled around. A zombie was right on her. Cooper jumped back, but tripped. She fell back hard and the corpse was on top of her instantly, gurgling and gnashing its teeth to get to her skin. Cooper shouted out to Michigan for help, but the boy was gone. She saw his bright blonde hair disappearing behind a building.

She shoved the walker off of her, vaulting over a car, and giving chase. She didn't want the panicked boy to die, even if he had just left her. She turned where he had ran and rushed to catch up to him. She followed him down a dark, dirty alley. Her footsteps echoed in the alley briefly and then she was gone.​

---

The two groups gathered what they could, but the sun was setting and it was time to head back. Nobody wanted to be out late again with zombies around every corner. Both groups prepared for the walk back and set off.

Once both groups had returned, they were greeted by Kin.

Holy... you all look beat to hell. Is everyone alright? Come on, get in quick and we'll get you patched up. My goodness. If I had known things would get that bad, I would never have sent you out so unprepared. Look... to make it up to you, ya'll are gettin' some good food tonight and can relax. No sense in making you do guard shifts or even work past what you done today. Now...let me collect the supplies and we'll see what we ended up with...

Kin gathered up what the survivors brought back and was quite pleased with the results. They had gathered enough building parts to almost secure the entire shelter. A few areas would still be exposed, but there was time to gather more parts later. The food situation was not as good though. All-in-all, it seemed the survivors at the Food Mart barely made off with anything which was bad news because that was the last place they had to look. The rest of the town was already scavenged.

Kin thanked them again and directed them to the meal line. They were pushed up to the front of the line to eat first. The whole group got nice platefuls of beans, rice, and some sort of rodent meat. Kin chuckled as he handed each survivor a plate, clearly happy with their success. The entire group got to relax near the fire pit which burned warmly and crackled soothingly. It was still early enough in the night to finally begin getting to know who everyone was.​

Scenario

Objectives

☣ Interact with your fellow survivors

Danger Level

None

Available Loot

None​

Shelter

FOOD: [31/100]
GAS: [43/100]
SAFETY: [84/100]
MORALE: [95/100]​

Group Perception

POSITIVE - SLIGHTLY POSITIVE - MIXED - SLIGHTLY NEGATIVE - NEGATIVE - NO OPINION​

Mark Forrester - "good common sense", "he had respect for him"
Athena Crawford
Alejandra Vasquez - "stupid girl", "idiot"
Syren Shizumi - "decent"
Dennis Plum
Nathan Hawke - "had some medical experience"
Dick Remly
Cassie Holloway
Timothy McGreggor - "what an idiot", "a good guy"
Alexandra Brikosi​

 

[jombii]

Dennis Plum​

Food Mart​

Inventory: 2/15

Dennis saw someone shouting for help and saw that woman from the plane before, one of the two who seemed to stick their broken piece of wood into every zombie they saw after the plane crashed. There was a zombie on top of her. Dennis knew he should go to her, assist her, but he was locked in place, staring at the woman. I am not strong enough. And she's a stranger yet. However, it seemed that she was perfectly capable of herself as she ran out the store, following that blonde kid of his. However, the zombie was only down and it turned its attention towards the others in the store.

"Come on guys!" Dennis shouted to the others in the mart. "This place is overrun!" Dennis took what he already gathered, few as it is, and bolted out the door, leaving the zombie slowly shambling towards him.

-

The walk back to their safe spot was uneventful but Dennis could not complain. He'd prefer uneventful than his life at risk with every step he take. He could already feel the shortness of breath coming on him. He was just thankful that he was done for the day, although he is not quite sure if he can do another run the next day. Dennis hoped that, what was his name, Kin, would not have them running another supply run. Dennis doesn't want to do that yet as he is not yet prepared to give his back to people he barely knows.

"I mean, I don't even know this people yet," Dennis wondered. However, he immediately dropped his voice, realizing that he said that out loud. He hoped nobody heard him. It's bad that you're the black guy amidst of white people; it's worse when it's the zombie apocalypse.

They were back before they realized it. The other group seemed to be back also, although none was for the worse of wear. Kit apparently saw it too as he welcomed them back.

"Holy... you all look beat to hell. Is everyone alright?" Well, yeah. Although that one woman didn't come back. "Come on, get in quick and we'll get you patched up. My goodness. If I had known things would get that bad, I would never have sent you out so unprepared." Yes, I know. You should have given us something to use for defending ourselves.

"Look... to make it up to you, ya'll are gettin' some good food tonight and can relax. No sense in making you do guard shifts or even work past what you done today. Now...let me collect the supplies and we'll see what we ended up with," Kit said. One by one, the two groups gave Kit what they had, dumping it in a pile near him. Dennis took out the two cereal boxes and the apple. However, he quickly decided to pocket the apple for himself. Rationing is good, but he thought his effort is worth something more than a part of his cereal boxes. He felt the apple's bulge in his pockets. The Food Mart group tried to gather as much as they can but it turned out the shop was already looted bare. It was already a miracle they found something inside.


The groups who went scavenging were the first one to be given plates. The food was nowhere great but, since Dennis couldn't remember his last meal, he was thankful. There was rice and beans and some kind of meat. It kind of tasted like chicken. He got his plate and sat down near the fire, watching it crackle and burn. He started chomping down on his food with much gusto, aware that the other survivors are watching him.

 

[gimmepie]

Capt. Timothy McGregor
3 Str | 3 Int | 2 Ag | 2 Char
Status: Minor head trauma. Aching body from the continued aftermath of the plane crash and driving through the roller door.
Inventory:

Spoiler:

1x Can of Drink (Weight 1/20)
2x Parts (Weight 8/20)
6x Nails (Weight 3/20)
1x Old Newspaper (Weight 1/20)
2x Toilet Paper (Weight 4/20)

Total Weight = 17/20

​

As McGregor re-entered the Home Fixin' his ears were assailed by the furious din of the mad scramble within. His fellow survivors were rushing to escape the clutches of the looters within, severely outnumbered and plenty outgunned. Most of the group didn't even have a weapon – those that did were merely carrying sticks like he had been.

"You're going the wrong way" the other man had said – the one that was either a criminal or a soldier. McGregor had seen plenty of cowardice on the battlefield in Angola, but never desertion of one's comrades. He had a much better idea of what kind of a person the man was now – the kind McGregor despised.
Fucking scum… coward McGregor thought as he began winding through the shelves.

One of the looters ran at McGregor
"You!" a raging voice screamed in a thick Texan accent, one of those McGregor had evaded before. The cop didn't even wait, he punched the other man straight in the face and as he cupped his now bleeding nose, McGregor grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and slammed it against his knee.
"Me" The Texan fell to the ground whimpering as McGregor stepped passed him and removed a plank of wood from his bag.

The items in his bag clattered as he moved but McGregor didn't care, they'd been discovered anyway and nobody could hear him over the loud shouts of terrified survivors and angry looters. The weird kid with the tarot cards sprinted passed McGregor, not even noticing he was there. Two looters pursued him but it didn't look like the kid even knew they were there. McGregor stepped around behind the looters and slammed one in the back of the head with his wooden plank. The other one whirled making to pull a knife from his belt but he was too clumsy with shock to even raise the weapon to his more experienced attacker. McGregor bashed the man's knee a sickening pop sounding as the looter screamed with pain. McGregor then shoved the plank hard into his gut and rammed him into a shelf. The looter laid there, conscious but not daring to move his aching body.

There were more screams and yells. Looters were everywhere; it was hard to keep track of what was happening within the building. McGregor rounded a corner, looking for more of his group and walked straight into another looter. Like McGregor he wielded a plank of wood – although his also had a sharp blade taped to the end. The looter reacted quickly and swung his deadly weapon at McGregor, who was able to just barely knock it upwards and out of the way. The other weapon hit a low-hanging light and shattered the bulb forcing both men to jump away and cover their heads with their hands as shards of glass and sparks flew around them. The sparking lamp swung into a shelf stacked with empty cardboard boxes causing them to start simmering and smoking. In a matter of seconds a full-fledged fire begun to blaze, rapidly spreading along shelves.

The looter came back round the corner only to have McGregor kick his legs out from under him, the looter's face only inches from the burning shelves as he hit the ground. McGregor was going to deliver a kick to make sure he didn't bother him again when suddenly a loud bang filled his ears and something glass behind him shattered. The sound was familiar to McGregor, but he had not been expecting to hear it. Down the other end of the burning isle stood a young looter aiming a grimy old revolver at the police captain. It was the same young man of about twenty that McGregor had beaten to a pulp earlier – he was covered in small trails of blood from the struggle in the store and a manic look was etched on his face.
Where the fuck did he get a gun? McGregor found himself thinking as he cursed the lack of his own weapon, never before had he missed his own gun so much. The young looter steadied his aim, let out a wild laugh and pulled the trigger.

McGregor had seen it coming and had already flung himself back around the corner as the youth fired the revolver.
"Don't be stupid you shit!" McGregor yelled at him, noticing that the building was suddenly much quieter. Even the other looters seemed to have fled from the scene, they'd have sworn they were running from the raging fire but McGregor knew the youth was who they feared, a young man who'd been treated like crap and beaten senseless that had now snapped was much more unpredictable and dangerous than something as simple as a burning building. Smoke permeated the air, stinging at McGregor's eyes and burning his lungs.
"Die!" the looter screamed, footsteps suddenly heading up the isle towards McGregor. Tim's body burned and his lungs ached, but he forced himself to run forward and dive over the top of a counter just in time for a bullet to whiz over his head and puncture a can of pain with a ringing noise. Like blood the red pain began to run down the shelf to the ground as if the universe was telling McGregor what his head was about to look like.

McGregor half crawled and half dived along the length of the counter as two more shots rang out in succession. Two more tins of paint blew open spilling their coloured innards. The building was truly ablaze now, flames covered everything and the smoke was getting thicker and thicker. McGregor's young attacker coughed and spluttered through his insane laughter. McGregor thought of his fellow survivors not far away and of his daughter.
"I am not going to die here when I still have a mission to accomplish!" he screamed, grabbing a paint tin and leaping to his feat with a burst of energy. He hurled the tin at the looter's head, clutching his plank under his other arm. The looter was too shocked to respond, before he even thought to shoot again the paint tin slammed into the top of his head knocking him unconscious instantly. He'd be plucky not to experience any permanent damage, but McGregor had to survive at any cost.

McGregor walked over to the unconscious body of the young man, slipping his plank back into his bag.
"I should leave you here to burn." McGregor said venomously through gritted teeth as he breathed in the thick black smoke, hellish heat biting at his skin "but like I said… I know you're just trying to make it through this." His breaths heaving and every part of his body aching, McGregor slung the heavy weight of the youth over his shoulder the huge addition to the weight he was carrying making his every joint scream in open rebellion. Keeping as low as he could, McGregor staggered through the store as it began to fall down around him until he managed to fall through the shattered door. The unconscious man rolled off to McGregor's side as the cop coughed and spluttered and choked in fresh air. Tim's vision was hazy, his head throbbed and his skin was burned in patches. He dragged the unconscious looter a bit further into the car park before leaving him there and stumbling back passed the tree line to where he hoped his group were watching the flames – he doubted they'd really be waiting for him, rather they'd probably just be hypnotised by the destruction of the blaze. McGregor could barely see from his exhaustion when he collapsed on the grassy knoll unconsciousness taking him over.

Status Update: Temporarily unconscious. Exhausted, battered and bruised and suffering from minor burns.

 

[Klippy]

Mark Forrester - Status: Sore
STR: 2, INT: 2, AGI: 3, CHA: 3
INVENTORY (15/15):

---

Mark's arm was a bit tender, but he jumped up as the entire Home Fixin' went up in flames. McGregor was dragging a body out of the store but collapsed. He was unconscious. Mark looked around for something to wake McGregor up with. Nothing was close, but a shopping cart was a few feet away. Mark ran towards it as a horde of zombies rounded the corner. They must've been attracted to the lights and sounds just like the airplane crash.

Mark lifted the cart up and wheeled it over to McGregor's unconscious body. He lifted with all his might and managed to get the old guy in the cart. The zombies were too close now and Mark was out of time. He wheeled the cart towards the rest of the group and flew past them, unconscious McGregor still in the shopping cart. It was near dusk by the time Mark felt that running was no longer necessary. He slowed and caught his breath.

They had enough supplies, he felt. But they could've gotten way more had there not been looters there to almost kill him and the rest of the group. "Hey, are you guys okay?" Mark asked to the small band of survivors. There was the tarot card guy, the Englishman, and McGregor. "What the hell are your names anyway? It's been a non-stop roller coaster since the flight." Mark coughed and shivered. It wasn't the warmest night and the quiet of the night amplified his fear and worry.

He looked ahead and saw Ukiah not far in the distance. "Let's go, guys. Almost...home."

Next post about: Your Fellow Man​

 

[Arsenic]

Name: Nathan Hawke
Location: Home Fixin', Outside Ukiah, Oregon
Status: Yellow

Nathan just finished the amateur tourniquet, the Home Fixin' store's exterior went up in flames. 'Lead' as he took to thinking of him as for now, jumped up and ran right out of the woods. Nathan looked more closely he saw a passed out 'Gruff' in the car park. Not far off a horde of zombies was making it's way casually to all the commotion.

Nathan sprinted out out of the woods towards Gruff. Lead had already gotten a trolley from the store's exterior and wheeled it over to Gruff. Nathan grabbed Gruff's legs and helped Lead plop him in the shopping trolley.

The zeds made their way steadily closed and Lead had seemed to have decided it was time to bug out as he took of with the trolley back towards Ukiah. Nathan waited against his will to make sure the small boy who had also come along on the job. He waved the boy in the direction and shouted "Get a move on!" Then took of himself as the shambling hoard's footsteps overtook the crackling of the fire.

The sun was almost set when he saw Lead stop running. Nathan too slowed his pace.

"Hey, are you guys okay?" Lead asked the group.

"Jaw's a little sore other than that I'm set." Nathan said in response. He cracked his neck. That errand ended in a train wreck. That was a lot of future supply runs down the drain.

"What the hell are your names anyway? It's been a non-stop roller coaster since the flight."

"You can call me Hawke. Or you can come up with your own name to call me I could care less. Don't like people knowing my name anyways..." He ended. He could see Ukiah ahead now.

 

[UnnecessaryLongName]

Name: Oscar Wright
Location: Fire pit in Ukiah, OR
Health: Physical; Full - Mental; Nervous

_______________________________________________________________________________________________​

Oscar scoffed as the airplane survivors walked past him in line. "Half of them barely came back with anything, and yet they to skip the rest of us? Just like the suck-ups at prison." He thought to himself. He rolled his eyes as he stood there, and simply waited. His foot tapped out of instinct. Tap, tap, tap. Soon Oscar found himself second in line, so he extended his arms and held out his plate. "Only some rice, please." Which the returned the request with their forever-frowning face and a small lump mixed with beans and rice. "Yum, thanks." Oscar sarcastically remarked. He sighed, and glanced beside, and to the back, of himself then dumped the 'food' in the bin. He wasn't even hungry; he just wanted to not raise suspicion of not eating. He did eat. In fact, he ate so much he was full. This is what worried him - people finding out he's been eating. Or worse, what. He sighed. His nerves was just getting to him. Nobody would find out, so he just needed to forget about it. Oscar desided the best way to do this is to eavesdrop on the group near the firepit. Under his breath, he mumbled, "Yup, just like prison..."​