ViolentViolet

The Walking Dead: Safe Haven -CLOSED

You guys are much less hostile then I had initially assumed you would be. I expected to have multiple guns pointed at me XD

The Walking Dead: Safe Haven -CLOSED

Ten Thousand

The girl woke to the sound of feet, moans and startled yelps from animals nearby. In the back of her truck she had laid down, leaving the windows cracked a hair to let fresh air in over the night so she wouldn't get too hot and catch a fever. Eyes snapped open, grey irises searching for anything inside of the truck: finding nothing she grabbed her Bowie knife from the space beside her. Fingers wrapped comfortably around the handle, divots in the leather from the years of use. Looking out the back window she saw several zombies, shuffling toward the truck, though after several silent moments she realized that it didn't know she was there. It was joined by more, the congregation turning into a horde. It split around the truck, not one noticing that there was anyone inside of the vehicle. Without making a sound the female crouched, waiting for the horde to pass, barely daring to breath too loudly. She could feel the heavy pulse of her heart in her ears, fingers dancing with adrenaline, pupils dilating as the rush washed over her. Time slowed, it seemed an eternity passed before the horde was finally gone. They were headed south, away from the cold of the approaching winter. Toward the heat, and wherever any surviving humans holed up. They must have rushed through Dana Point and San Clemente before making it to her.

Finally gone, she turned and tossed a box of crackers into the front of the truck, followed by the knife and finally the girl herself crawled into the cab through the small window. Dressed in torn jean shorts, sneakers and a plaid flannel shirt, she pulled her hair back in a lazy braid before opening the side door and stepping out onto the abandoned highway. There were cars littering the road, some almost completely torn apart and others seeming as if they were brand new aside from a thick layer of dust on them. Rolling up the sleeves of her shirt she ate a couple of crackers before slipping her bow onto her back and the knife on her waist. Not a walker in sight. Closing the door, she reached her arms above her head in a long, much needed stretch. She glanced around: still nothing. Without a word the young woman walked over to an overturned jeep, wondering if anything usable remained of it. Even if there was just a blanket or a couple bullets, a good part. Hell, she'd really appreciate a working radio. Maybe there was an old CD or casset player.

As she was rooting through one of the less damaged vehicles she heard voices coming from north of her, a group by the sounds of it. 10K dropped, crouching behind one of the cars, listening to them slow and stop. Several dropping to the ground in exhaustion, others leaning against cars. She peered through a crack in the door of the car she was ducked behind, watching what seemed to be the leader toss a rucksack and then lay a map down on the hood of the car she had just gone through. There wasn't anything left that was useful to her, and she'd siphoned all of the gas in the tank out just before they had gotten there. Half a liter at most, but something was better than nothing. Getting gas for the truck had been the hardest part of getting down here from Montana in the last few months, but luckily for her there wasn't anyone left around to need it other than her and her brother. And now that her brother was dead, this group may well have been the first living people she's seen in years.

She moved her gaze slightly to a man walking away from the rest of them, passing by a man leaning back against a truck. Not just any truck: her truck. It wasn't like she was going to get anywhere near her truck without them noticing she was there, even she wasn't so skilled as to avoid notice out in the open by a group facing all sorts of directions. Waiting until the leader had his back turned to her, she slipped her bow off of her back and notched an arrow on the string. A hunting arrow, barbed and blood stained, fletched with swan feathers. Slipping just to the edge of the damaged suburban, visible but not yet noticed, she pushed off of the tire and leaped onto the hood of the vehicle, using surprise to her advantage she jumped over to the car that which the leader and his map was sitting on. Aiming the arrow tip at the man leaning against her truck she watched him for a moment, letting the initial chaos die down. "Get your ass off my truck."

The Walking Dead: Safe Haven -CLOSED

Name Krystal Marsh - formerly. Ten Thousand - currently
Gender Cis Female
Age 17
Birthplace Sheridan Montana
Previous Occupation High School Drop-Out | Hunter
Personality Before the apocalypse, Krystal was quiet, but never as quiet as she is now. She doesn't speak very much, letting her actions speak for her, though she doesn't often have someone to talk to. More often than not she's memorizing everything she can, counting her steps wherever she goes and learning the tells of those around her. She pretty to look at some days, but not exactly an approachable person, seeing as you're more likely to get shot than talk to her. A locked vault, she carries secrets as if they could save her life - in which some cases they can - and rarely speaks about herself. The hope in her eyes is dying, her willingness to forgive. Her disgust in humanity was bad before, it getting worse the mosre people she see's. If she was the last woman on Earth, she wouldn't give a damn. In a world where it's all about seeing tomorrow, there's no one more important than herself. Fuck the moral compass.
Occupation before the breakout High school student

Skills

• Huntress; Krystal, having been born into a rougher life than most, learned how to fend for herself at an early age. She understands nature, the balance and hunting better than she understands most people. She is capable of building snares, and tracking down prey animals.
• Accuracy; Over her life she has learned a variety of ranged weapons, including Sniper Rifles, Bows and Slingshots. It's rare that she misses her target either, as how evenly she times it with the wind.
• Observation & Calculations; Gifted in mathematics and psychology, this young woman has a gift for learning, but mental math is her specialty. She knows at a touch how fast the wind is going, at a sight how large something is. It has always been a skill of her own, though not one she oft used outside of hunting. She counts when under pressure or anxious.
• Auto-mechanics; Her older brother made it out of their home, working at an auto-shop where he taught her all he could about cars, trucks and everything else that moved on wheels. This was how her love of motorcycles was born.
• Sleight of Hand; Growing up as a thief, she has mastered the illusion and discretion of thievery. Picking locks, pick-pocketing etc, fall beneath her skill tree.

Fears

• Thunder; As a child, most of the traumatic events in her life happened either on rainy days or with voices that later thunder would remind her of. She enjoys the rain, and loves watching the clouds and lightning - it's the sound that she fears.
• Trust; Krystal finds it difficult to trust other people, especially with her own safety and equipment. As well when someone trusts her she feels the intense urge to destroy that trust - often she succeeds.
• Failure; "Failure is not an option"

Equipment

• Compound Hunting Bow
  Compound Bow Image

  
• Crossbow
  Crossbow

  
• Arrow Quiver: 27 Arrows
  Quiver

  
• Bowie knife & Sheath
  Bowie Knife

  
• Barrett .50 Cal Sniper Rifle
  Sniper Rifle

  
• Flatbed Pick-Up Truck with Bed Cover
  Truck

  
• A box of assorted food
  Food Details

  • Two(2) jars of Peanut Butter
  • One(1) jar of strawberry jam
  • Two(2) jars of raspberry jam
  • Three(3) cans of tomato soup
  • One(1) can of beans
  • One(1) box of generic brand salted crackers
  • One Half(1/2) box of stale gram crackers
  • Four(4) cans of corn
  • One(1) sealed bag of trail mix
  • Ten(10) cans of various canned meat
  • Two(2) pounds of fresh fruit picked from bushes recently found
  • One(1) container of powdered milk
  • One(1) box of granola bars
  • Nine(9) bottles of Gatorade
  • One(1) one liter(1L) water bottle - currently full
  • Two(2) cans of pineapple
  • Five(5) cans of coconut milk
  • Three-Quarters(3/4) bottle of olive oil
  • Seven(7) boxes of cereal - all kind of stale
• Ten(10) feet of steel chain
  Chain

  
• Three(3) gas canisters
  Canisters

  
• Two-man tent
  Tent

  
• A dufflebag of clothes
• Two(2) bathtowels
• One(1) bottle of body wash
• Three(3) jugs moonshine & two(2) bottles of vodka
• A woodcutting Hatchet
  Hatchet

  

Group Loner
[center]History

The young woman passed by the front of the church, haired pulled back in a loose ponytail, jeans stained with grass and blood, holes in the knees. Her gaze was downcast, avoiding looking at the people gathered in front of the building. She didn't want their scorning looks to be met. Ignore them, she told herself, but every Sunday she could feel their judgmental gazes following her as she passed by the front of the building. Perhaps she could have taken a different route, or gone out on a different day, but it was the most efficient path to the marketplace. The animal corpse slung over her shoulder, dead but not broken, clean save for a single thing: it's left eye was missing. This time it was a fox. Last week it had been three rabbits. The week before that a young doe. Whatever it was that she carried, it was her dinner that night and money in her pocket. She turned a corner, soft pale green eyes lifting as the religious folk lost sight of her, her pace slacking. She was not beaten, not truly. Not by them. It would only be a little while before she could leave home finally. Only a little longer until she was free.
---
The rev of the engine alerted her to the presence of a man outside. Not just any man. Her Brother. He was here? Why? She looked out the small window, broken as it was, to see him loading things into his truck. He called her name, but she didn't respond right away. Taking a quick glance back at the locked bedroom door she called over to him. He ran to her window, not wanting to alert their parents - assuming they were awake and sober. He looked concerned about something, though she couldn't see what it was before he thrust a dagger into her hand. "I'll be back at midnight. Stay safe."
---
She looked out the window, seeing the full moon high in the sky. Not quite midnight. Kyle was never late. Head snapped to the side at the sound of a latch coming undone, the door violently swinging open. She never heard the words that came out of the mans mouth, only saw the fist he made and felt it smash into the side of her face. Why would he come back? She was already locked inside! She must have blacked out at the next hit, because when she opened her eyes the man was on top of her, her clothes torn. He was fucking her already. Tears stung her eyes, a cry in the back of her throat. She would not give him that victory. She bit her tongue, fingers digging into the sheets. She smelled moonshine on his breath again. He looked at her, saw her defiance, hit her harder and flipped her onto her stomach, pinning her against the mattress. He shoved her face into the pillow. Every thrust pushed her closer to the edge, wanting to die, to stop feeling anything. His grip relaxed, her hands slipping free. He grunted. She faked a moan she knew he would like. Her hand dipped beside the bed, fingers finding the handle of the knife her brother had left her. Finally. Freedom.
---
A gunshot woke her again. Another one. Wet. Sticky. Warm. Pain. She must have passed out. Eyelashes stuck to her cheeks, blood dried on her naked skin. Blinking open her eyes she saw her brother in the doorway, an old shotgun in hand. Sawed off. Old. His first? Dazed, everything was hazy. Concussion maybe? After that there was nothing until two days later.
---
The apocalypse swept straight through Sheridan, it's small population of approximately 600 people, wiped out in less than two hours. Krystal and Kyle were at their home, not far from the edge of the town, but nothing noticed them there with their fathers rotting corpse by the highway. There wasn't much food in the house, but a lot of tobacco and moonshine and guns. It was a good supply. They were smart about how they used it, and never left the house alone. After a month gathering what they could get to from the more fortunate homes of the small town, they hit the road.
---
It was a year before they trusted anyone to be near them. That trust cost Kyle his life, and Krystal her humanity. She drank heavily when she knew she was safe. She hated herself for living. Hated those who killed her brother. In the end she hunted them down to, killing them. She never gave them mercy. Krystal moved on, never staying in one place long, taking what she could. Unfortunately, she no longer trusted anyone, or anything. It's a world of liars and killers; honesty and honor dead with Kyle.

A Love That Shall Not Be Named

And that is perfectly fine with me. I should be able to get a post up tonight, since I'm not doing anything really family oriented.

A Love That Shall Not Be Named

My god people. Is this what happens when I work for Easter weekend?

The Walking Dead: Safe Haven -CLOSED

Oh my gosh I finally have time to post. My life has been crazy the last few days guys. Sorry for my absence. As soon as I get this laundry done I'll be working on it.

The Walking Dead: Safe Haven -CLOSED

<Snipped quote by ViolentViolet>

I'm with you on keeping it realistic but remember. In the comics Carl started out 7, and also killed Shane really early on. Guaranteedit was with a gun, but I'm just saying we don't know what happened with her the whole time period from the start of the apocalypse to now. In Telltale's the walking dead Clem at the age of ten(? somewhere around there) used a baseball bat to smash the skull of the guard in. She also dragged Lee's limp body into a store with walkers all around them.

@alexfangtalon

A) I wasn't talking to you
B) I definitely watched the show, not read the comics or the novels so I don't know who Clem was. In the television program Carl started out nine I believe, and only shot zombie Shane because he was going to kill Rick. During which event he did recoil how he should have. He was traumatized. This was also the second season, so he'd already developed a bit.
C) *Granted

The Walking Dead: Safe Haven -CLOSED

@Aintitfun1997@josephb
So I hate to be the fun police here, but someone's gotta say it. Walking Dead is a someone practical and realistic zombie survival show. Ten year olds don't swing bats hard enough to break things. Nor are they tall enough to reach. To be totally honest here, Camy is barely big enough to run away from a couple walkers, let alone smash their skulls in. It's really not that realistic or practical.

A Love That Shall Not Be Named

Hey guys, sorry I haven't posted in a bit. I've been caught up in work and school. I most likely won't have time to post until after Easter, maybe on the Monday. But I got called in for an extra shift Sunday and Saturday I'm with fam.

Ascension of Gods (High Casual)

@LadyRunic
Sounds awesome. Do we have a set outline for our sheets yet? I can start working on mine soon if so.

EDIT

Stupid question. It's at the top of the page.