With a groan, Vyra began to stir. "Ugh... shit. What... what exactly happened?"
Last edited by VyraKatyusha; 01-22-2013 at 08:12 PM.
GM WARNING
(And yes, I'm posting in IC ON PURPOSE TO GET YOUR FRIGGEN ATTENTION!)
You all better be paying attention to the OOC THREAD!!!
That, and I'm adding something too. If I find OOC posts in the IC area again I'm killing your character and I won't allow you back into the roleplay due to ruining story!
Thank you =) And goodnight.
Phillip had all while the drama both inside and outside the school revealed itself in it's fullness, been walking around the inside of the barricaded school yard to get a good look at the actual defences they had put up. It seemed strong enough to hold out a decent amount of Walkers, or Biters as other referred to them as. It was too tall for them to climb over, though he had yet to see a Walker that could climb a fence that tall or a ladder, and from what he could catch from the conversations around it seemed that the doors and windows in the school itself was well barricaded. It seemed safe, but only seemed. After all, the same settlement he had just been in less than a day ago was in the same kind of situation and look at that now.
The newly arrived Russian drunkard with a very bad English, along his fat friend, had left the complex. From the gunshot he had just heard coming from the school made him think that someone had been killed or injured, and it was the fault of these two misfits in this new world. And then one of those who had followed them from the previous settlement, Phillip thought his name was Desmond which was the same as a very famous bear for some reason his mind told him, told Phillip and Emily that the leader of this settlement wanted to talk the three of them. Izzy his name was apparently, and even for his funny haircut, Phillip had by now gotten the feeling that he was a good guy and a good leader.
Phillip nodded to Desmond and turned to Emily. "Let's go and see what this Izzy wants to talk about, I just hope we won't throw us out. What do you think about the guy? I think he seems like a good guy after all, but you know that the first impression stays for a while, and my first impression of him wasn't that good..." He said to Emily as he started walking towards the school building, hopefully with Emily coming with him.
"I've taken a look at the defences, they seemed solid enough to keep us safe from Walkers, but I'm more worried about Raiders and ourselves running out of supplies."
As at least Phillip entered the room where Izzy was, Phillip clearly saw that there had been a fight here not too long ago, and Izzy was clutching his ribs like if he had been injured earlier.
"You wanted to talk with us, Izzy? What happened here?"
I have nothing else to put in this signature, except this:
Off in the distance, in the close outskirts of the high school campus, Rusty tread through some tall grass, a pair of binoculars around his neck and a button-down Hawaiian shirt with the top buttons unbuttoned. His khakis were rolled up to his knees and his running shoes were slightly worn from the amount of running it took to escape the carnage he's seen since the infection hit.
He was unaware of what was going on back at the base. Rusty liked to keep to himself most of the time. The others knew he was doing research, but nobody was quite sure what that research entailed. Nobody gave it much thought.
He was using the one hand which wasn't holding a hammer to wipe his brow and itch at his goatee, but the other hand was firmly gripped to the handle of the tool. He kept his wits about him, making sure walkers weren't near this area. The coast was clear, for now at least - but night fall was just around the corner.
Rusty finally came to the clearing he'd been looking for. The old shed - a shed which, at one point in time, contained equipment for the gym classes on their hikes through the woods. It had long since been abandoned. For what purpose, he was unaware, but somebody must have come by to use that equipment for survival. At this point, the shed was vacant - and Rusty figured he was the only person who knew its whereabouts. After all, this was the high school he'd taught at for nearly 15 years - the building was the same and the campus remained the same, but the atmosphere was far different ever since the infection hit.
He was never much of a fighter. He was never much of a leader. Hell, his position was guiding children, all the while being guided by somebody higher up the ladder than him. He knew he wasn't meant to kill or defend in this plague. But he was dead set on using whatever skills he had to get by.
He approached the shed quietly as he possibly could.
One thinks of research and they think of a boring game, one fueled by mundane tasks and lots of guessing or estimations. However, researching the infection was far different. Not many were worried about cracking this infection, most were solely focusing on survival.
Rusty had different plans.
He gripped the old door of the shed, once again looking around to make sure nobody - or nothing - was around him.
The door creaked as it opened, and all which could be heard coming from the pitch-black darkness were moans. Quiet, helpless, monstrous moans. Rusty flipped on the old flashlight hanging from his belt-loop.
There it was - a walker. It sat at the end of the shed, its legs raw and its skin nearly to the bone. It attempted to crawl toward Rusty when he opened the shed, but it was no use - this walker had been starved, on purpose. The walker attempted to groan, but all that came from its mouth was a cracked and hollow whisper - its vocal chords grinding together to no avail. Rusty got down on one knee, staring at it.
"...Benjamin..." He whispered. He had known him well at one point. At one point, he had been a fellow teacher of his who taught history, and one who had grown to be a close friend to Rusty. Of course, he was known as Ulysses back then - but as time changes, so do people.
Rusty observed his old friend. He couldn't feed him, he knew that. He shouldn't even be letting him live, for if the others knew, they'd surely be upset - but it was in the name of research. He knew that justified it.
He flipped out a ratty old notebook, peeling a page over. Clicking down on his pen, he began to scribble notes:
- Loss of body fat occurring in the subject. Most likely due to starvation.
- Subject seems to be decomposing internally.
- Subject seems to be weakening from starvation much like an uninfected human.
Rusty's mind raced around with thought as he took these notes. The sheer possibilities - these notes might possibly be opening new doors - but he knew this information might also be useless. He sighed, taking a glance at the other pages of his book - ink of different colors, ink from different pens, scribbled down at least 20 pages of the paper. Notes that were legible, notes that were scribbled in the dead of the night - notes from all sorts of sources.
But you couldn't get notes like these from mere speculation. These were notes acquired only by having a subject in front of you. Having a true subject to examine.
But he knew the others wouldn't want to risk it. It was best kept secret.
With another elongated sigh, Rusty stood up and looked back down at his friend. Who was once a large, sturdy man, lay before him now as a decrepit shell-of-a-human. A body devoid of any life or soul; an empty vessel. He almost felt bad, but he knew he wasn't dealing with Benjamin. Benjamin was gone forever.
"Sometimes," Rusty whispered to his friend, though he knew he wouldn't hear him, "Sometimes, I almost feel bad."
'Benjamin' said nothing. 'Benjamin' stared back up to him with those soulless eyes, still trying as hard as he could to crawl forward toward Rusty.
Rusty sniffed, nearly on the verge of tears. It was like this every time. For someone who should be used to the dead, for someone who should be desensitized at this point - he still had a hard time coming to terms with reality.
"I'll see you." Rusty's whisper was almost inaudible. He shut the gate of the shed, locking it back up.
Rusty traveled up the grassy hill, back through the path, still on a lookout for any walkers.
Eventually, he made it back to the school. He wandered through the back of the fence, walking around casually, making his way back inside of the building.
"Hello?" He looked around. It was different. Nobody in sight. "...Is anyone there?" The volume of Rusty's vo
"... I'm not too fond of that... idiot russian or the self-centered fat-man... Both of them are idiots and are bound to get us killed... I mean... I do have Hope and Dana to worry about... and as it stands they're noise makers for the walkers..." Emily responded as she followed Phillip. She hadn't heard Dmitry scream out how he wanted his legs chopped.
She looked to Izzy, this was the man that was the supposed leader to the school's group.
"There are four people that weren't part of our group to begin with, 3 of them followed in the the cop car that the Russian and Fat-ass stole from us during the raider attack. Then there's the black guy, not meaning to sound racist or anything, that started following us a few hours ago. We've been on the road for sixteen hours approximately, maybe more, maybe less... I wanted to ensure that you knew this information. We have a woman in our car who got injured before she came into our encampment, I did a check over on her and she wasn't bitten. I know that Desmond wasn't bitten... As for those two bumbling idiots who had the child with them in the cop car... You can get rid of them as far as I care... Sorry but the fat-man put my own flesh and blood in danger and I have no respect for him at all," Emily stated calmly before she let out a soft sigh.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be venting to you, hell, I'm normally not a spiteful person but with the raider invasion on our settlement, my friend Cameron dying, and not knowing what's going on with the rest of us I'm at a loss. Anyways, you what did you need from us?" She asked, feeling idiotic for spilling basically her life story to the other leader. It seemed that Phillip and herself had taken up the leader-ship role of their own personal group.
Minori looked to Dmitry who had screamed out wanting his legs chopped off. It was too late now, it had been sixteen hours and now she felt like an idiot though there was a possibility.
"Dmitry, shh, I have an idea... You might not have to lose your legs," She stated before she rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a large bottle. Something she hadn't shown the rest of the town when she had arrived. It was a recently filled prescription bottle of anti-biotics.
"I cured a bladder infection usin' cinnamon, garlic, colloidal silver, and oregano... Maybe if you take this bud you won't turn into one of those things out there and you'll keep your legs," She stated before touching his skin. It was hot, that was a sure thing.
"Yeah..." She handed him the bottle before she clambered out of the truck and dragged her bike out of the truck, making sure to avoid damaging him anymore.
"Though I want you to do me a favor... okay? If you start feeling really bad... you need to shoot yourself... cause... choppin' your legs ain't gonna help now."
Anwell had stayed quiet the whole ride there before he looked to Laurel.
"... You're.... nicer than most adults," Anwell stated to Laurel before his attention turned to the road. When they arrived at the school he hopped out after everything was said and done and made his way in, of course forfeiting his weapons like he had been asked to before following Laurel to where ever she was going. She was his new adoptive mother so to speak and he wanted to make sure he didn't leave her side at this point.
Olive couldn't help but think... she didn't want to tell this to Laurel or *Buck. About what she did back at the camp. Olive cleared her throat while Emily spoke about those idiots that tagged along the ride over here. Olive opened her mouth and looked to Emily, sincerity in her eyes. "Um... Em, I need to talk to you about something important. Its about something I did back at the camp." She said. Eventually she would have to tell the whole group about what she did. But she felt it'd be more fitting if she revealed it to her 'older sister' first.
"I really need to get it off my chest, alright?"
Emily looked to her before she nodded to Olive.
"Alright, let's talk then," She replied with a soft smile on her face. The irritation about those two men had almost dissapated.
"We can talk in my car if you'd like."
Anwell looked to Olive with a raised brow. He had, afterall, riden with Olive as well. He didn't say anything though and shoved his hands in his pockets whistling a soft tune to himself. He had his gameboys, still had enough batteries to last him a lifetime for his games but he didn't feel like touching them, yet anyways.
Olive nodded and walked out to the parking lot, opening Emily's car door and getting inside, waiting for Emily to get inside too. Once they were inside with the windows raised, Olive lit up the last cigarette she had from Colorado. She sighed and rested her head on the side of the door, her short hair pressed up against the window. It took her a few minutes to cough up what she was gonna say, but she finally looked Emily in the eye, smoke rising from the ash. "I k- Hold on a minute." She said, stalling time as she opened the cigarette down and squashed it with her foot, closing the door again.
She sighed and looked to her side at Emily. "I killed someone... back at the camp."
Emily had a pack of cigarettes, a remnant of her husband, in her glove box. She opened the box, remenescent of the past. She opened the pack, grabbed a cigarette out and lit one too before she looked too Olive with a cocked brow as she started. When she stalled she furrowed her brows. The news didn't surprise her too much, her brows lifted slightly but her eyes didn't change to anger or fear.
"... This isn't the world we used to live in anymore... You'd think we'd only have to kill the walking dead... but I'm certain it was one of the raiders correct? If you hadn't killed them, they probably would have killed you... Not that I want to think that's what humanity has boiled down to but... that's what it's seeming like it's done," Emily responded before she shook her head. She finished her cigarette off before she flicked her's out the window.
"... Olive... just understand that you need to protect your own, no matter what the cost... but don't loose your humanity either... Remember you're a human being, you're not perfect, I'm not perfect, treat other's nicely... never forget that other's care about you..."
"No, no, no, YOU DON'T U-" She said, pausing and staring at for a moment realizing she was yelling at someone who she cared for. She gulped and clutched her hair, head hanging in shame. Her fingers slowly ran through while she slowly nodded in denial of the act that she committed. "She bargained with me... she told me that she would fake an injury to distract the others for me so we could escape. And just... I had a molotov that I made from the wine bottles I had. I could have just left... she was about nineteen. Nineteen, I could see it in her eyes the pain of taking someone's home, even when I flat out told her that it was my parents grave." She said, hyperventilation in her tone. "My parents grave that the other raiders are probably PISSING ON right now!" She said, banging the car port.
"I told her to shove it up her ass and I fucking shot her clean through the knee. Clean through the knee, okay? She begged me not to do it. But I tossed it down on the ground and it burned her face... I-I-I can still see her hands trembling while she held her face. And she was a pretty little young thing, this was not... some huge fucking macho guy that looked like he would kill you in a second. This was someone who was just six years older than me. And the worse part is... she had my mother's name. I heard someone scream it out in despair." She said, looking at her reflection in the window.
"Now you tell me... do you still believe there's no difference between just shooting her and ending it right there and making her last few seconds on Earth one full of agony? Which I think... I think I enjoyed seeing for a minute there?"
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