actually, it occurs to me... That I should roll for the extent of carter's injury... 1 to 6, better to worse good for everyone? Anyway, let's see what I get...
5... xD he's fucked up.
5... xD he's fucked up.
MisterMonkeyFace Member
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Oh, sorry. o.o I was mislead by the game of thrones lady all over your avatar and sig.
"That's very fair... These things take some getting used to..." He said quietly as the two quickly made their way out of the motel. On the way out, he covered his mouth and nose with the inner part of his elbow, still holding his weapon up. Even with the slight protection from the fire's smoke, he coughed just slightly as he scanned for Brandon, groaning a little with frustration as he did so. Horace was gone, and now he couldn't even locate the firebug. "Yes, we should find Horace." Carter replied evenly, hacking a little as for just a moment, he wished he'd smoked... Might make this situation a little easier...
The two advanced further from the building, still unable to locate their fleeing comrade though they'd certainly found his small trail of destruction. A small group of zombies lay dead about twenty yards from where they'd exited, and a large number of the rest were milling about in the crackle of the fire, moaning and grabbing at the air as if a meal would pop out of thin air. "Where the hell did he g-..." *BANG*
When the barrel exploded, it sent the older of the soldiers to the ground with a surprised grunt. "Fuck... That's why you always coordinate with explosives..." He complained half heartedly, running his hands over himself to check for injury as he slowly rose to his feet. A small splinter of what used to be a barrel had punctured into the left side of his armor and the kevlar was already beginning to soak with blood. "Son of a bitch..." The colonel said quietly, clenching his teeth before his pistol came up, pointed at a small building that housed the motel's bacup generator. It was on fire, though a fireball of moderate size blazed just outside of an alley, and if that wasn't enough to tell them where the explosion had come from, debris were scattered away from the source. "That's the only way he could have gone without us being able to see him... Captain, I'm injured... This is your show now. Do we go through the fire or go around to find him?"
The two advanced further from the building, still unable to locate their fleeing comrade though they'd certainly found his small trail of destruction. A small group of zombies lay dead about twenty yards from where they'd exited, and a large number of the rest were milling about in the crackle of the fire, moaning and grabbing at the air as if a meal would pop out of thin air. "Where the hell did he g-..." *BANG*
When the barrel exploded, it sent the older of the soldiers to the ground with a surprised grunt. "Fuck... That's why you always coordinate with explosives..." He complained half heartedly, running his hands over himself to check for injury as he slowly rose to his feet. A small splinter of what used to be a barrel had punctured into the left side of his armor and the kevlar was already beginning to soak with blood. "Son of a bitch..." The colonel said quietly, clenching his teeth before his pistol came up, pointed at a small building that housed the motel's bacup generator. It was on fire, though a fireball of moderate size blazed just outside of an alley, and if that wasn't enough to tell them where the explosion had come from, debris were scattered away from the source. "That's the only way he could have gone without us being able to see him... Captain, I'm injured... This is your show now. Do we go through the fire or go around to find him?"
You know... It worries me that perhaps my suggesting anything to the gm was very rude... If there's a uh... courtesy rule I broke, I'm sorry.
Shaking his head, Carter watched Horace's shenanigans and sighed. "He's gonna get himself killed... I don't know if that's a good thing or bad..." He holstered his pistol and moved to Greg, patting him on the back. A moment later, Brandon Tossed his molotov, and though he couldn't really fault the man's actions... It would distract some of them, but... It didn't have the bang to get the attention of the horde. He shook his head and helped his companion straight up on his feet. "Still your stomach, we were never gonna go on the devil's zipline... Eating a bullet woulda been safer than that. He pulled on it and it came right off."
After a moment, the colonel stepped back and pulled up the MP-5 that hung on his side. He gestured forward and gave him a weak smile. "Nothing but bullets are about to be flying... Let's go soldier. This your first time in combat? Just been a post sitter til now, arresting drunkies?" The man laughed encouragingly and nodded. "If so, you're doing well. Let's get doing... Cover my rear."
After a moment, the colonel stepped back and pulled up the MP-5 that hung on his side. He gestured forward and gave him a weak smile. "Nothing but bullets are about to be flying... Let's go soldier. This your first time in combat? Just been a post sitter til now, arresting drunkies?" The man laughed encouragingly and nodded. "If so, you're doing well. Let's get doing... Cover my rear."
Just a few suggestions before I post. And none need take effect now, if at all. I only ask they be considered. (I'm having fun with the rp right now, don't worry.)
Just to keep things fair, if GM likes them, we should probably vote so nobody quits!)
If we're to really make this survival, perhaps we should be keeping tabs on our stock of ammunition? All each person needs to come up with, is how many (realistically) rounds of ammunition their character is carrying. Or GM could alot each person X amount of mags for each weapon. And we use that from now on.
I'd also suggest we keep tabs on how many zombies are in... X area. We could begin this now, or after they've entered into a safe area.
I'd also like a roll for ...Things such as combat (I don't mean shooting one or two zombies, or sneaking up on one or two.) and, uh... Crazy stunts. We could let the player roll themself for general things. Let GM roll for anything they deem major. All ya gotta do to know, is... If you think it's major, just ask GM. she's around erryday. ;)
I feel these little bits of detail would really be fun. It mixes it up a little and I think interesting. Even you don't know what's gonna happen next... The only person who really knows what will happen in the end though... Will be our devious GM. Also as a note, I'd be happy to assist with these duties.
Edit: I'll be posting soon!
Second edit!: doing all this would also more than likely help post length too. Perhaps someone fails what they were gonna do? What are they gonna do now? Numbers of zombies are good as well. You know exactly how many zombies there are if you wish to describe them and flesh out your post a little. And what specific actions your character has to do to do them. (@.@ to do to do...)
Just to keep things fair, if GM likes them, we should probably vote so nobody quits!)
If we're to really make this survival, perhaps we should be keeping tabs on our stock of ammunition? All each person needs to come up with, is how many (realistically) rounds of ammunition their character is carrying. Or GM could alot each person X amount of mags for each weapon. And we use that from now on.
I'd also suggest we keep tabs on how many zombies are in... X area. We could begin this now, or after they've entered into a safe area.
I'd also like a roll for ...Things such as combat (I don't mean shooting one or two zombies, or sneaking up on one or two.) and, uh... Crazy stunts. We could let the player roll themself for general things. Let GM roll for anything they deem major. All ya gotta do to know, is... If you think it's major, just ask GM. she's around erryday. ;)
I feel these little bits of detail would really be fun. It mixes it up a little and I think interesting. Even you don't know what's gonna happen next... The only person who really knows what will happen in the end though... Will be our devious GM. Also as a note, I'd be happy to assist with these duties.
Edit: I'll be posting soon!
Second edit!: doing all this would also more than likely help post length too. Perhaps someone fails what they were gonna do? What are they gonna do now? Numbers of zombies are good as well. You know exactly how many zombies there are if you wish to describe them and flesh out your post a little. And what specific actions your character has to do to do them. (@.@ to do to do...)
Name: Ralph
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Crime Committed: Five counts of second degree murder
Appearance:
Personality: Very down to earth and sensible, in every day life he's not one to make quick decisions. He likes to weigh pros and cons of every available option before making up his mind. However, when an emergency pops up unless it's going to cost him his life or appears it will, the man isn't one to leave people in danger or without some form of assistance. Despite that, the man is very quick to anger when something unfair or somebody is being beaten down verbally or physically for no apparent reason. He's quite friendly, talking to whomever is willing to converse with him and he'll definitely make his feelings known about any situation that may be occurring. Despite his reasonable outlook on life, Ralph is quick to anger or crack under stress.
He's not the adventurous type, rarely venturing out of his home before his imprisonment, Ralph would rather stay where he knows it's safe or improve what he has if possible, rather than try to find somewhere better. In conversation, the man is very blunt, always trying to get his point across as simply as possible. He lacks tact, but he's not intentionally rude. Violence is never his first choice, however if talking isn't going to solve the problem, he'll pick up the nearest hard object and start swinging.
Greatest Fear: Ralph's greatest fear would have to be dismemberment. After sticking up for weak people most of his life, he's not fond of the thought of becoming the person who can't defend themselves.
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Crime Committed: Five counts of second degree murder
Appearance:
Personality: Very down to earth and sensible, in every day life he's not one to make quick decisions. He likes to weigh pros and cons of every available option before making up his mind. However, when an emergency pops up unless it's going to cost him his life or appears it will, the man isn't one to leave people in danger or without some form of assistance. Despite that, the man is very quick to anger when something unfair or somebody is being beaten down verbally or physically for no apparent reason. He's quite friendly, talking to whomever is willing to converse with him and he'll definitely make his feelings known about any situation that may be occurring. Despite his reasonable outlook on life, Ralph is quick to anger or crack under stress.
He's not the adventurous type, rarely venturing out of his home before his imprisonment, Ralph would rather stay where he knows it's safe or improve what he has if possible, rather than try to find somewhere better. In conversation, the man is very blunt, always trying to get his point across as simply as possible. He lacks tact, but he's not intentionally rude. Violence is never his first choice, however if talking isn't going to solve the problem, he'll pick up the nearest hard object and start swinging.
Greatest Fear: Ralph's greatest fear would have to be dismemberment. After sticking up for weak people most of his life, he's not fond of the thought of becoming the person who can't defend themselves.
Lol. Well I posted. Let's just hope Horace doesn't say fuck it and pop around the corner shooting.
(Just a heads up as well. Friendly fire in combat scenarios is more common than you'd think. Him knowing to make his presence known to allied fighters isn't me making sure he doesn't get shot. It's him knowing he WILL probably be shot if he startles someone when he comes around a corner or passes in front of a hiding spot.)
(Just a heads up as well. Friendly fire in combat scenarios is more common than you'd think. Him knowing to make his presence known to allied fighters isn't me making sure he doesn't get shot. It's him knowing he WILL probably be shot if he startles someone when he comes around a corner or passes in front of a hiding spot.)
Though Greg dispatched of the stragglers with relative ease, he sighed with exasperation when he knocked on the door and asked for entry like someone in major need of the bathroom. "We reached our destination quietly and safely. But if they're firing, they're still fighting... And we can't keep our heads down while men who depend on us are at risk now can we? we've got no time to dick around waiting for them to answer a knock." The colonel said sternly, though there was no hostility in his tone. "Hostiles are going to be coming from all sides, we need to get in there and get them out now." The colonel finished as he sheathed his entrenching tool. He drew his pistol from the holster on his chest and fired three quick rounds into the door and lock assembly. With practiced precision, he brought his foot up and slammed it against the door just under the bullet-holes. With a sharp crack, and the soft whine of thin twisting metal the door flew open.
"This is combat now soldier, we get our men and get the fuck out." Carter exclaimed as he moved into the building, pistol raised. The first room was void of undead. Rows of washing machines and several baskets of forgotten clothing and laundry supplies were all that the room had to offer. With a single wave of his left hand, Carter gestured for Greg to follow, never lowering his weapon. "Clear. Let's move." Expecting Greg to follow suit and cover his rear, he didn't bother looking back at the captain unless the other had something to say or made a worrying sound. The colonel started into the hallway, slowly making his way toward the front lobby where the gun shots seemed to originate. As he searched, the officer spoke aloud, hoping anyone within ear shot would come to them. "This is colonel carter of the U.S. Military. We heard your gunshots and we've come to get you out of here. This place is going to be swarming with those things within a matter of minutes, we NEED to get out of here."
"This is combat now soldier, we get our men and get the fuck out." Carter exclaimed as he moved into the building, pistol raised. The first room was void of undead. Rows of washing machines and several baskets of forgotten clothing and laundry supplies were all that the room had to offer. With a single wave of his left hand, Carter gestured for Greg to follow, never lowering his weapon. "Clear. Let's move." Expecting Greg to follow suit and cover his rear, he didn't bother looking back at the captain unless the other had something to say or made a worrying sound. The colonel started into the hallway, slowly making his way toward the front lobby where the gun shots seemed to originate. As he searched, the officer spoke aloud, hoping anyone within ear shot would come to them. "This is colonel carter of the U.S. Military. We heard your gunshots and we've come to get you out of here. This place is going to be swarming with those things within a matter of minutes, we NEED to get out of here."
don't rush yourself by the way.
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