Hell on Earth (Zombie RP)

[Enishi]

((Before I continue, for those who made a profile before the update, read the first page of the OOC. There has been an update on character classes.))

Over one month ago, an unknown zombie outbreak ravaged North America; millions of lives ended as this unstoppable plague gripped the large continent. In a last ditch effort to save survivors, NATO forces sent rescue helicopters to save stranded survivors; while many were saved, there were those left behind. One of those few groups was located in a small suburb within Wisconsin. While many humans are generally stranded throughout the state, a small group of survivors holed up inside a pub until help arrived; unfortunatly, help never arrived. As the days passed, food and water ran low and firearms used to fend off the undead were long gone.

Within the pub (besides PCs) survivors include a couple of cops, a bartender, a truck driver, and a store clerk. Your story continues here...

 

[Ser Yorick]

"I am here for a reason," a red-headed man said in his Scottish accent to himself. This man, dressed only in the simple robes of a humble Buddhist monk, was Eddy Andrews, a new citizen in this great, but terrible country. It must be some sort of test. Right understanding, right thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration. The Noble Eightfold Path.

Eddy leaned against the counter of the bar, meditating on his thoughts, and the situation he was currently in. He was not supposed to harm other living things. But were zombies really living things?

 

[OneoftheLost]

"Smiley things, things are jes' pikey' eh may?"

Gaden Socerdos sat across the table from one of the cops. The cop had made it his personal responsibility to keep the Gypsy in check, and to make sure not TOO many things ended up in his possesion.

"Ah shudup ya damn Gypsy."

"No loove for the old homeywand' eh? I smells how yours types is."

Gaden rubbed his jaw line, as if in thought.

"Well I tell E what. We be sittin here gathering dus, I ses we do somfin."

The cop sighed. Gaden seemed to speak in a whole different language, it wasn't English, it wasn't Irish, it was just...Gypsy.

"Look you just sit here and make sure you don't steal anything else."

"Steal? You be accusing this fine son o' the moherlans of stealin? I tell e what. I sear on me granfies grave, that I didn't steal -"

"Oh, can it already will ya?"

Grumbling the Gypsy sat back, fiddling with the dozens of bracelets and fine watches he wore.

 

[Who Wrecks?]

"Umm... yeah, whatever you say old-dude-wearing-a-dress. Anyway, I never got a good look at 'em. Are the buggers fast or slow zombies? Cause if it's the latter, why not just run away. It's not like they can keep up." Says the guy over in the corner. He's finally in a bar, alcohol all around him and his hands are shaking too goddamn much to get any of it down. Figures. "Oh, a creepy Gypsy lady? Seriously. Shut. Up. If you're gonna live in the country at least try and speak the language right."

 

[OneoftheLost]

OOC: No offense meant, but do you even know what a Gypsy is? Second of all did you even look at my profile? hes a hella-fit boxing MALE.

Gaden stood up, pushing his hat back he calmy looked down at the man drinking.

"You said somethin'? We' be' seein' matey. Stan'd uop."

The gypsy was still smiling, but it was obvious he was looking for a fight. His bandaged hands and wirey street-fighting physique spoke of years of experiance at it.

 

[Who Wrecks?]

ooc: The only gypsys Ive ever seen are the Romanians in Rome. So yeah... if thats not what he is, then I dont know.

"As much as I'd like to get into a fight with you, as of right now, I think I'm gonna go and decline. But seriously... Cannit, will ya? You're damn accent is actually stuck in my head."

 

[OneoftheLost]

OOC: *sighs* go watch the movie Snatch. I have a Gypsy king and two ..erm tribes.. in my state, they are pretty much the same as romania, steal things, very stubborn, etc.

Gaden bent down. He was smiling.

"Little boy don't know whats good for 'em. What are ya' twelve? Ya goona mek me stap?"

Gaden looked down at the teenager, a glint in his eyes. He was still smiling, but his intentions where obvious, his knuckles cracked as he leaned closer.

"Watcha' goona do kiddo? Watcha' goona do when the zombs get in? Gonna wave your wittle tea-cups and' cal foor a parta?"

The cop suddenly stood up.

"Leave the kid alone!"

Gaden turned. Suddenly he was smiling.

"Alroighty officer. Mean't no arm. I wus jus' thinkin' if the zomb's really do gets in here, alotsa thes buffoons donna know whats a fight is."

With that the man walked off torwards the bathroom. He dissapeared from view.

The cop sighed and sat down.

 

[Enishi]

"Alright, settle down you two; it's bad enough that we are stuck out here, the last thing we need is you two chewing each other out when we got a city of em outside. And whether they're fast or not doesn't matter; there's too many of them."

The older cop had moved to seperate the two. His hand, heavily bandaged, seemed somewhat sickly; pale and yellow. The truck driver, who had taken watch on the roof with a pair of binoculars scanned the night area for any sign of life; so far, there was none. The bartender was frantically searching the shelves and cabinets for liquor or food for that matter. After searching the last cabinet, the young man plopped on a stool.

"We're outta food and water. Not even a drop of alcohol is left..."

 

[Who Wrecks?]

"Christ! This day just keeps getting worse... and no offense, but I've seen the movies. You know, where you see injuries and youre all "I dont want to kill him... blah blah blah", but really... I swear to god, if you even look like youre gonna croak, I won't think twice." Says Wyatt, gawking at the cop's bandaged arm.

 

[Ser Gregor]

A man, dressed in well worn, tough denim jean and a simple wife-beater listened to all the conversation with little interest. "Alright, settle down you two; it's bad enough that we are stuck out here, the last thing we need is you two chewing each other out when we got a city of em outside. And whether they're fast or not doesn't matter; there's too many of them." He flinched at the statement, must he remind him of the creature's endless knawing?

"We need to get some damn food!" He yelled, his voice uneavy, as if he was not all there. "Does anyone know of any supermarkets around here? Anybody?!?"

 

[OneoftheLost]

The sound of flushing was heard, and Gaden walked back out.

"Na, I hear of eh, Gas station about two blocks te south."

With these words of wisdom said, Gaden propped down on his haunches in front of the doorway. He peeked through the keyhole.

 

[Enishi]

The bandaged cop looked at the kid with some degree of fear.

"It's fine... just a scratch. And I'm not turning into one of those... things!"

Looking at the street rat, crying for food, the cop scratched his head.

"Well... I think there might be a market a couple miles from here; but it's far too dark to go outside-"

"And we're out of ammunition."

The trucker left his post, the binoculars around his neck. Taking a deep sigh, the trucker looked at the group.

"I'm sure we'll last the night."

 

[Who Wrecks?]

"Of all the things to say... Ooh-my-Gawd. You realize that means half of us won't last through the night... in fact, I'm really surprised you're still alive right now. Don't you guys ever watch the movies?!"

 

[Sovereign]

Doctor Jones sat quietly in the corner, smoking a large wooden pipe. He had been contemplating the whole situation for quite awhile now. It seemed that the large pack of Zombies outside weren't their only problem.

 

[Enishi]

"Look, kid, this place is perfectly safe... And I told you it's just a-"

The old cop slightly wobbled where he stood, sitting down on the nearest chair next to him. Rubbing his head, then stroking his wound, the old cop looked up again.

"Look what you've done now... You gone and gave me a headache."

Suddenly, the cracks of the radio seemed to spark to life; a white noise switching to a heavily garbled voice. The trucker was quick to adjust the radio.

"Come on, baby! Someone's alive!"

 

[jediduncan]

"Bullshit, isn't it?"

Cal sat down next to Dr. Jones, making himself immediately comfortable. This was all boring and everyone was getting panicked over nothing. Hopefully the other members of the bar would get into a fight soon, just for something to do.

"Back in California, we weren't morons. People didn't run around like chickens with their heads cut off all the time just 'cause someone says there's, what, "zombies" outside? Zombies. What bullshit is that anyway. Everyone knows zombies aren't real. And even if they were real, if this happened in California, we would just destroy those sons of bitches and not have to deal with them anymore."

He nodded his head as if this settled the matter. Then he turned to Dr. Jones.

"Only reason I don't leave is 'cause there's nowhere else to go with everyone all sex nuts and retard strong out there. Anyway, you mind passing that down here, buddy?"

He nodded his head to the pipe the doctor seemed to be enjoying.

 

[Sovereign]

"It's hard to believe that you don't believe in Zombies. What do you think we're here for anyway?" The boy's comment made him quite uneasy. He could be affected by a serious mental disorder.

 

[jediduncan]

Cal shrugged and crossed his arms, slumping back in his seat.

"I just came here for a drink. And anyway, back in California, we didn't have bullshit zombies or whatever you weirdos here believe in. I mean, a bunch of voodoo crap or a bunch of morons scared into thinking there's zombies. Which seems more likely?"

 

[Enishi]

"Come on! Come on!"

The radio was cracking with life as a live broadcast hit the radio waves. The voice of an englishman spread throughout each channel. Repeating the his words over and over the Englishman spoke frantically.

Hello! Hello? Attention survivors of Wisconsin and Michigan, the last rescue helicopter is on the way! repeat, the rescue helicopter is on the way. If you live near the North-Western tip of Michigan, hurry to the nearest military installation! We are on the way. Repeat, the last rescue helicopter will arrive within THIRTY DAYS.

WARNING! NATO ~*STATIC*~ on there-... hurry to military ~*STATIC*~ REPEAT! NATO forces will ~*STATIC*~ That is all!

 

[Sovereign]

At the end of the Radio Broadcast, Doctor Jones stood up at once. "I think we better get going." He moved quietly to the door and attempted to stare out of the keyhole. If they wanted to make a successful escape, they needed to have a rough idea of the obstacles outside.