Tranqserenity

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

Oh yeah that, the same time posts. No this was just really silly, I was accidentally on the first page instead of the second. -Sighs-

I fixed it, it's a little shorter now but I managed. :)@Tranqserenity

@Days

It was a good post, left plenty for me to work with :)

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

James Houston - Unknown Street

Character Info

James skidded to a halt as heard the sound of something solid hitting something less solid. He turned back towards the house he'd fled from, just in time to see a young petite Asian woman in a black leather jacket, jam the painful end of an umbrella into his pursuer's head. He stood there for a few seconds, trying to accept that the woman was indeed alive - and apparently friendly.

James hadn't met another human being since the military death squad burst into his home, and slaughtered his family. A mixed feeling of grave mistrust and longing for companionship split his mind in two. As always, when he was internally conflicted, he resorted to his breathing techniques to bring about some clarity.

In.

And out.

In.

And out.

The clouds of mistrust evaporated from James' mind, and he decided the woman was no threat. She'd of attacked him by now, if she was. And besides, it wasn't like he had anything worth stealing. He started walking back towards the house, casting a glimpse over his shoulder to check to see if any more dead men were about - they weren't, for now.

He stopped about ten paces away from the woman, careful to keep his distance. He assumed that women had probably faired quite poorly in this crisis, as there was no telling what the rest of the menfolk had been getting up to without law and order to restrain them. He decided it was best not to spook her by getting too close.

"Thanks," James said with a smile. "You didn't need to, but thanks all the same. I'm James Houston, and I lived down the end of the street for most of my life."

His stomach rumbled.

"I don't suppose you have a can opener do you?" he asked, embarrassed by his stomach's involuntary noise. "I've not eaten in a fair while... oh and if we could get off the street, that'd be great. They're gone for now, but it's only a matter of time before they get bored of looking for me behind Old Man Cowsky's house and return."

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

Wish I could draw a map. No, James just jumped a fence, and in the house of that garden, that was where Mary was in. :) So he is now standing in the garden of the house Mary is in. A few houses over is probably where the other two are, because Mary heard the last shot in front of the house she was in.

Sorry if it was unclear.

Edit: @Tranqserenity Oh no, I wrote my bit while I was reading things in the IC on the first page. I didn't keep in mind you had already made a new post. Hm, I should change this :) Sorry!

Silly mistaken. Trust, I've been RP for years, haha!

@Days

Haha, no worries, we all do it!

It gets really awkward when two players post at the exact same time, and they start arguing over who should have to rewrite their posts. Always a good time!

Lemme know once you've changed it, I'm sure I can get James to turn around and come back. I'll just coax him with more beans.

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

@Remipa Awesome @Tranqserenity

Did it! However, I must say I am not a native English speaker. So please be a little kind :(

@Days

Awesome post, and very good writing to be fair.

However, if Mary was in the same kitchen that James was in - then he's already left the house, bolting out the door after a zombie almost got him.

Or did you mean one of the other houses? I wasn't too sure of that.

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

James Houston - Unknown Street

Character Info

There was a thump from upstairs, James froze as he rummaged through the drawers. Then there were was another thump, and another.

He stood back from the drawers, and shifted his safety goggles to try and get a better sense of things. The house was dark, too dark, but his eyes were slowly adjusting to it. There was a door leading out of the kitchen, and just beyond, a hallway with some stairs and a couple more doors. The thumping continued, but didn't seem to be moving from its perceived location.

James cringed as he imagined what may be making the noise. Probably a dead man, stuck in one of the bedrooms, banging its hands against the door to try and get free. James suddenly lost his appetite, and moved on into the hall way - slowly. Each step was a carefully measured action, minimising the noise as much as was humanly possible.

He passed by the stairs, and though it was almost pitch black, he could see dark stains leading up them. This only furthered his intent to get out of there. He headed back to the kitchen, grabbed the can of beans, and then went back into the hallway. He froze when his eyes detected the feint outline of something that hadn't been there before.

At first he thought he'd just mistaken what he was seeing for a trick of the light, but then the object growled. James had enough time to bring his tyre iron up as a dead man rushed out of the darkness, and threw itself at him. The force of the impact brought James to the ground, and a pair of jutting teeth snapped inches away from his face as he fought to keep the dead man's weight off him. The rank smell of rotting flesh and ... something worse ... rushed up James' nostrils, making him nauseous despite his predicament.

With great effort, James managed to bring the tyre iron to bear, and placed it horizontally across the dead man's neck. Then with both hands, he pushed, even as the dead man's fingers clawed and scratched at his face. After a few seconds of constant effort, he threw the dead man aside, and was on his feet in a flash. He didn't stop to check if there was any more, instead, he bolted for the door at the base of the stairs. There was some brief sunlight poking through the door's boarded up window, and his eyes lit up when he realised it was the front entrance to the house. With shaking fingers, he fumbled for the lock and managed to get it undone.

He pushed the door open, but was blinded by the sunlight. Nevertheless, he sprinted forwards - just as the dead man's hands clamped around his shoulders. James span, not having time to think, and shoved the dead man away. Then he moved forwards, and raising his tyre iron high over his head, swung it for the creature's face. There was a sickening crunch as metal met jaw, and his assailant fell backwards with the force.

Then James turned, and realised he was back out on the same street he tried to escape earlier - except now it was empty, the dead men having chased him down the road an hour previous. He quickly broke into a sprint, just as the dead man climbed back onto its feet.

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

It says "Jump in", no GM approval required, which is what I did. I can't see him/her having a problem, they seem pretty chill.

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

Yeah, that's right. I think he's the Remipa's alt.

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

James is by himself, scavenging in some houses.

Hunter and Irene are chilling out at Irene's pad.

I can't tell you what city we're in, I don't think it's been mentioned. However, I'm having a fun time making things up as I go.

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

The hedge was as tall as James, and thick. He hadn't considered something so simple to be so impossible. He had tried three times to grab hold of it and climb over, but each time he'd fallen back with two hands full of broken branches. He looked around, noting that the end of the garden backed up onto the wall of a neighbouring house.

The constant raling of the chainlink fence behind him, reminded him that the little child was all too aware of his presence. James could turn back, perhaps shove the child aside and make a run for it - but to where?

He looked slowly down the garden, past the rusting barbecue and capsized picnic furniture, and towards the house. The back door to the building was ajar, and smeared with bloody hand prints. He couldn't see past that though, because with the power out, everything looked dark inside. It was possible that the dead men who once occupied the premises were no longer around, and he figured that surely they'd of come out by now because of the racket he'd made trying to climb the hedge.

Still, James did not relish the task of traversing a dark and claustrophobic environment. He'd been lucky so far, and had spent most of the crisis' duration hidden away in Old Man Cowsky's house. No one had bothered him, not the rampaging military, or the ravenous dead. He hadn't lifted a hand in anger to anyone, nor had anyone lifted a hand against him. He'd just sat there, day after day, looking out the loft's window at a world falling down in the distance.

His grip around his tyre iron stiffened, and he felt its weight. This gave him a small boost of confidence, and so giving the dead child a quick sideways glance, he headed down towards the house.

The door had been long ago battered off one of its hinges, and hung at a slight angle. He pushed it aside, and winced as it creaked. His heart froze, and any second he expected dead hands to reach out of the darkness and claim him. They didn't. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerve, and walked on in.

James immediately lost his footing, and slipped on something oily. He managed to stop himself from falling, and stood still for a few seconds. Still nothing. He continued, walking into what was once the house's kitchen. Everything seemed quiet, and even the dead child outside had stopped rattling the fence.

A can of Heinz beans, laying on the floor by the kitchen's open fridge caught James' eye. Suddenly his stomach rumbled, and he remembered that he hadn't eaten in three days.

"Well," he said to himself cheerfully. "There's no time like the present!"

James started to pull back the kitchen's draws, looking for a can opener.

Surviving the end of days (Zombie Role-Play) (apply, Having technical issues)

James looked across the row of gardens. They were a mess, with fences torn down, plant beds overflowing with weeds, and grass rising as high as his knees. This was a problem, because to James they represented mini-jungles that were full of hiding places for the dead men to hide. He'd seen many people go that way, dragged by an unseen hand from under a car, or bitten by a set of teeth waiting behind a tree stump.

But he had no choice. A dozen of the things had followed him since he left his safe spot in the loft of Old Man Cowskie's house, down the end of the street. He'd tried to be subtle and stealthy about it, but the dead men noticed him anyway. They were slow though, real slow - so long as he kept going, he'd be okay. The problem was, the further he moved down the street, the more he encountered blocking his way. Turning off from the path, and into a garden, seemed like the best way to lose them.

Now he wasn't so sure. At least if he tried to run through his pursuers, he had a good chance at outrunning them. With the gardens on the other hand, he might not see a hidden danger until it was too late. He became hesitant.

He closed his eyes, as he often did in these situations, and focused on his breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He opened his eyes, and was blessed with a calm but certain sense of direction. He couldn't go back, because though he could out run the dead, he'd draw more to him as he went, until eventually he'd have hundreds chasing after him. Eventually he'd have to stop, and then would find himself surrounded, no matter where he sought to hide.

No. It had to be the gardens.

Stepping over the low-lying picket fence, he entered the first of them. Immediately his feet landed on something hard, hidden in the grass. He took a step back, peered down and saw that it was a small fire truck. He couldn't remember the children who had lived here, and he didn't want to. He just hoped they were okay.

Then there was a thump, off to James' right.

He turned and raised the tyre iron, but wavered briefly. Sure enough, a small child, about six years old perhaps, in faded and tattered clothes stumbled towards him from an open patio.

"Jesus," James uttered. He hadn't killed any dead men yet, and the prospect of striking down a dead child was somehow inconceivable.

He moved on, vaulting a chest-height chain-linked fence and tumbled into the next garden. A barbecue sat in the middle of it, fighting back the weeds and the rust. James looked around, and noticed loads of picnic chairs that had been tossed and turned - and then he saw the pools of weeks old blood. Something bad had happened here, and he didn't want to find out what.

He looked up ahead, and sized up the thick hedge that formed his next barrier.