Thread created on 01:35:52 - 23/06/22 (7 months ago)
Last replied 16:28:27 - 24/11/22 (2 months ago)
"Now i'm just saying... this isnt your average zombie thing... we been going like this since the begginning of the millenia..." The voice laughs. "anyways... so... i'll tell you a story... settle down..."
as you know... in 1987, the economy was already ash. by 96... all over the world... people were fighting eachother for supplies. basic things like food or medical supplies.
but... 2017. closer to the present day
a terror shell operating throughout the globe. having the resources to try take over the earth, created Nitrofide Turoxine. a deadly poison that makes everyone it effects, lose reason, thier minds. then ultimately. thier lives.
some class the infected as zombies. roaming the streets. feeding off of sunlight and the corpses of dead.
the last remenants of civilisation live in a walled off section of downtown L.A. survivors who have escaped from the ghouls in different countries have found radio broadcasts. small tv showings of the same thing.
"all survivors! calling all survivors... this is Dr. Alexandria Hartland... a base has been fully established in los angeles, america. if you can hear this radio broadcast... get to these co-ordinates. echo-two-nine-six... we have supplies, guns, munitions... everything needed to fight the outbreak. we may not win this... but we will find a way! we need your help! so please... if your hearing this... plane, improvised armoured vehicles... anything... if you have a mode of transport... try making your way the co-ordinates... we have the required resources and equipment... but we're loosing too many people by the day... we need to save humanity... please... if you can... get to us... we need you! and your will, to-"
theres then a snarl and growling.
"PERIMITER BREACH!" theres then gunfire heard over the broadcast. the radio / tv goes dead. no audio or video. then an evacuation plan pinboard for a few seconds. then that same broadcast. repeated. over and over.
"we need you!"
join the fight. help to end the plague. or succumb to the merciless beasts that have taken control of earth.
[btw im actually writing a book, with this as the setting, theme. etc. if you could post on this, it would be a huge help. thank you! and have a good day]
profession: defence / medical / entertainment / supply runner /
description: [how the character looks, what they wear, ect]
gear: [equipped gun(s), tools, medical supplies, etc]
backstory: [what happened to them, how they got to the safe zone]
Last edited by Ashlyn_Kalkeo on 01:49:43 - 10/09/22
description: 5'6, light blue eyes, hair done up in a ponytail: black with purple highlights. some red flicks of zombie blood. skin tanned by the burning of the sun's heat.
normally seen wearing the white doctors coat over a navy blue police uniform, glasses with a blue and yellow paint stain over the right lens.
gear: standard M1911 pistol, silenced. coupled with a hand built M4A1. courtesy of the gunsmith - Ricky. normally wearing the red medical bag, over her shoulder. within is a map of LA, some clips for the guns, a radio, morphine and a first aid kit with improvised bandages.
backstory: father killed by looters. a horror she was inflicted with at the age of 11. mother killed by one of the zombies. a recent event. having grouped with the survivors, she managed to set up defencive walls & barracades with the help of a few hundred survivors. this was in 2019. 2020 was when she made the broadcast, across the globe. the break in that killed almost 70+ survivors. bodies were moved. out of camp. some buried. others... zombies... leading is tough. harsh. but the people need someone to look out for them. to guide them through what the world has faced.
description: Brown hair pulled back into a slight man bun. Wears a green flannel that’s a size too big and jeans. Has stubble that covers his whole face that he attempts to trim, doesn’t always succeed.
gear: A half-full backpack full of practical camping gear, a bolt action rifle that can hold up to 5 rounds, with a scope. A half a box of rounds (approximately 50) in his backpack. Hunting knife and small hatchet.
backstory: Wood was the trial name given to this man, a name he took as a frequent biker and lover of nature. He loved the redwood forests and the Pacific Northwest for the beautiful nature. He was on a week long hike when the virus first hit, and by the time he could make it home, his wife and daughter were long gone. He assumes they are dead, but part of him hopes they’ll be found alive somewhere. He fled back to the woods with his gear and camped out for months, which turned into years. Finally, one night, he heard a crackle come through the solar radio he had set up. A call for survivors. Wood doesn’t have much hope for a cure, but he hopes he may find his family.
————————— Wood peered through the scope of his rifle, holding on for dear life as he looked out the window of a 13th story building. He had looked through a handful of buildings before he found one tall enough and that was relatively empty of zombies. Most of the chairs had rolled to the south as the building lurched, the steel being unreliable after the bombardments that turned most major cities into dead zones.
”Somewhere around here is supposed to be a stronghold… but where?” He muttered to himself. Finally, he thought he caught something down south. He peered closer and adjusted the scope, but he was right. A large wall, made of concrete, chain link fences, and cars ringed most of the Marina down near San Pedro bay. Inside he could make out small smoke coming from some of the settlements. Wood slung the rifle over his shoulder and picked up his backpack. He then began heading down the steps. He didn’t know if the place had been sacked or not, but he’d at least get closer to have a better look. After a few hours of walking and sneaking through back streets, he was on the roof of a building just outside the safe zone. He set up his rifle and peered through, seeing if there were any people inside and if they may be friendly.
After a few hours of loose observation, Wood had already come to a few conclusions. To begin with, it seemed the compound zone was well defended. Men manned the walls with guns, and jagged spikes poked through the chain link fence. At first he had thought they were to prevent any rushing zombies, but when one came too close to the wall, one of the spikes jutted out and impaled the creature through the head.
Hmm, I suppose someone is back there behind the wall doing that. I wonder how many? Still, it’s better than shooting. That will sure as snot draw a horde down upon them right quick.
Another observation Wood had made is that these people seemed to be reasonably well stocked off. He saw some of the people on the roofs of buildings, seemingly farming food of some sort. He noticed a few boats out in the bay as well, likely trying to fish. His last observation was that they had generators of some sort. Whether powered by gas or solar, he didn’t know, but as night came small lights began to spring up behind the walls, casting the softest of lights.
Wood realized that he needed to find somewhere safe to camp out for the night. He put his rifle away and headed down to ground level. He headed into the back alley and tried doors until one of them opened. Inside, it was quiet and barely lit. Wood drew his knife and hatchet and slowly went through the place. It was a single story storefront, with the windows boarded over. Surprisingly no one had broken in. Wood soon found out why when he entered a show room displaying pianos. He went back to the alley door and used a broken chair leg to hold the door closed.
He then searched through the building quickly while he still had some natural sunlight. Nothing but broken down pianos, however, he found a mini water bottles, likely for guests. That in and of itself would have been a decent haul, until he opened a cabinet full of fluted glasses and, surprise above all surprises, an unopened bottle of red wine. Wood held it with care as he returned to the center of the store.
He rolled out a sleeping bag and cracked open a few of the water bottles. After sitting for a bit he opened his backpack and held out a picture. The edges were worn, and it now sat in a plastic snack bag. Wood tenderly touched the faces of two women.
”I know you have to be out there. I know you are. I’ll find you, I promise.” Wood said softly, before he sat the picture down in front of himself. He took out another snack bag and began nibbling at a few pieces of venison he had left. He had smoked it before heading down here, not sure how much food he would find. After he calmed his stomach, he laid down and went to sleep.
In the morning he awoke, standing up in the store. With the newfound light, he took out his knife and went to one of the broken down pianos in the back and cut out a few yards of the fine piano string. He tucked it back in his bag and peeked outside. He then decided to observe the settlement for a little longer before making a decision.
"we need two on the south wall. someone on the radio just incase if anyone tries to contact us... glad that CBs are still in use... anderson! on me... we're going for a supply run.... need to find med supplies for the researchers" alex called one of the men to follow her. "as for the rest of you... dyno is incharge whilst im gone"
"haha! yes ma'am! like always!" dyno replied.
"well. you are the second in command. we'll be back in a few hours..."
dyno. one of her best soldiers. rose to the top by helping - he was one of the few who helped build the walls, stop the break in, in 2019.
"two on the spikes. three on drums... OPEN THE GATE! BOSS IS COMING THROUGH" one of the men shouted.
the gates opened outward, large enough for a truck. never opened if there was a horde. that would kill everyone.
"be careful. never know what will jump out at you... stick close... lets go..." things like this scared her. but she knew if she went with more than three people it would draw attention at some point.
"same old piano shop... the memories... my father took me there, back when people we're still panicking about the prices..." she stops and looks at it, run-down, still boarded... serene... it blended in with the environment.
"a few days later, someone broke into our home and killed him, my mother managed to stop the looters but... she was never the same after he died... always... lost... easily angry... irritable... but she loved me... just as much as she loved my father... she was the one who taught me how to shoot... believe it or not..."
"you have a good sentiment attached to that place then huh?" anderson asked her.
"yeah... the last actual time me and my father had done something fun... i wish they still worked... i could get one.... actually have a night of entertainment for the people in there... they need it... so do you... just to... enjoy ourselves... forget what has happened to our world... have at least one night of pure... happyness..." she sighed. "if only"
Last edited by Ashlyn_Kalkeo on 20:57:37 - 24/06/22
Wood was locking the back door up when he heard noise coming down the street in front of the shop. He drew his knife and axe and listened closely. It was a car! Must be some people from the settlement. Wood wished he had been able to see how they get in and out, but the people would eventually come back. Wood went back to the same roof he had been on before, except this time, he turned on the radio and tuned it to the station where the settlement made announcements. Perhaps he could find out if they were truthful or liars.
”Can anyone hear this message? I am a survivor looking for safety. Is anyone out there.” Wood spoke slowly into the radio. He repeated the message once, then waited. He zoomed the scope in on the front gate of the settlement.
"boss! back to base! now! we have a survivor over the radio!" dyno announced over the radio, he then turned around to the other table, the main radio - the announcment radio. "we hear you survivor! what is your location?"
"on it! we are coming back now... turn the vehicle around! lets go!"
the truck span around, heading down the road, back to the main gates.
"OPEN 'EM!" the gates opened once again, no Zs around. that was a rare thing.
soon as the truck got through, the gates, they were shut rapidly. the truck didn't even stop when alex got out. she jogged through the complex, getting to the main radio tower.
"theres a survivor out here? contacted you on the radio you said..." she asked dyno.
"yes ma'am. at least... i hope its a survivor... never know if it was something paranormal" he replied.
"sure it was..." she looked to the radio and enhanced the frequency. everything in a three mile radius was now clear. "can you hear me? hello? i got told there is a survivor... if you can hear us, say something, anything..."
there was static. nothing. the few people in the room waited anxiously for a reply.
Wood watched as the truck came roaring down the street, before a main gate was opened and rapidly closed. This area seemed to be pretty light with zombies. Perhaps they cleared out a bunch in recent fights. Wood then heard his radio crackle to life, with people asking his location.
”I can see your settlement, which is enough for now. I want to know I can trust you all, which is a rare commodity these days. I’m feeling a bit hungry. Send out one of your men with some food, please. Meet me at the nearby piano shop. If he or she comes alone and there’s no tricks, I’ll come join your settlement.” Wood said, before ceasing talking.
"alright. i'll be there in a few minutes." alex replies
"you cant be serious. alone? you?" dyno says to her
"yes. i can walk and shoot a gun perfectly fine. if i can do that then im pretty sure i can take food to someone who needs our help" she states
"for fu- agh fine. but if something happens to you-"
"nothing will. you have to trust me. now as someone who is trying to actually get this earth back to how it once was" she argues
"hey uh.... radio is still on" one of the people say
"alright... i'm coming out with the food. give me a few minutes" alex then walks off to the trader posts & canteen area of the complex, gets some food and exits the settlement.
"alright.... piano shop..." she walks slowly to the shop trying not to fall or get noticed by any z. she approached the store cautiously. "hello? is anyone here?" she asks, entering through the main door of the shop.
"hello? its me! alex... i have the food you requested"
Wood listened as the people argued about who would go and if they would go alone. Wood kept the radio on and listened as he entered the shop to see if he could pick up any more info, but it was quiet. About fifteen minutes passed and a young woman entered the store, bearing a tray of food. Wood kept her weapon ready, but not pointed at the woman.
”Sit please.” Wood said, gesturing to a piano bench he had set up, facing another. He took a seat after Alex. He then gestured towards the food.
”You take a bite first. And a sip.” He waited for her to try the food before he took it and began to eat.
”So… you’re all still alive? You and your people. I’m surprised. The radio announcement made it sound like you all died.” Wood commented. He paused to take a sip of the drink.
”So, what’s the goal of your little group? New world order? Save the planet? Find a cure? I’ve seen a lot of people who want all that, but few who can actually do anything.” Wood said, before setting down the finished tray of food.
“Hmm. I guess we’ll have to see, but for now, you have my cooperation. I have goals of my own and you will help me along the way.” Wood said, leaving the tray.
”Lead the way back to this camp. I’m exhausted and could use a place to crash. I’ll apologize in advance if I’m curt or my manners are a bit lacking. I’ve been in the wilderness since all this started. I’m Wood by the way. You’re Alex, I think I heard?” Wood said, grabbing all his gear. He waited for the woman to show him the way back to the settlement.
"y... yeah... alex" she looked around the room again. most of the pianos broken. there was one that was in perfect condion. almost brand new. or at least it looked like it.
"you picked a good location to meet... uh... anyways... lets go. and its alright. most were a lot worse when i met them. so... you one of the best few i have met that hasn't been a complete jerk."
"anyways... i-" shes cut off by a low growl from outside the door
getting up and walking slowly she whispered "damnit!" she took a quick peek out the door then closed it, silently but rapidly.
"so uh... theres a lot more than thirty... i... think... think!" she then gasped and realised. the radio she had. she took it out of her bag and tried to contact the base. hello its me! alex... i need help... i theres nothing but static.
after a few seconds she then thought of something. it was risky but it was the only thing she could think of.
"ok... i have a plan. run to the main gate of the settlment. its just down the road. tell them these exact words: order echo 72. and point towards here... ok?" they should send out a truck with a gunners position on it. while the gate is open, get inside. it'll probably be closed pretty quick... i'll keep you covered... GO!"
reaching for the rifle on her back she looked back, then shot a bullet at the z outside. it worked. the one went down but more walked up, she had enough and bursted through the door, opening fire on the small horde of the undead. the supressor stopped any major noise but the growling and yelling from the z enticed more in the area to emerge.
"RUN!" she signaled for wood to run whilst she was attacking the undead. instead of reloading her rifle, she let it swing onto her back (thanks to the strap) then she took the pistol from the bag, walking back, down the street trying to defend him whilst he retreated to safety. now it was the moment of truth, she put her trust into him by calling for backup. was he going to help her? or let her die?
Last edited by Ashlyn_Kalkeo on 19:48:55 - 26/06/22
Wood drew his knife at the sound of the growling. He checked out front and noticed the large number of zombies. He drew his hatchet, considering their options. He was going to mention the back alley, but before he could say anything, the woman had drawn her rifle and began firing. Her weapon was silenced, but that didn’t mean it made no sound. She told him to run to the settlement for backup. They’re wasn’t much of a choice to do much else, so he listened. He ran to the gate, and knocked hard.
”Hey, your friend Alex is in trouble. She told me to say Echo 72. 73? No, it was 72.” Wood commented, noticing that a few zombies had followed him to the gate. He spun around, ducking an arm and slicing at its leg. Once it fell, he buried his hatchet in the creatures head. As another approached, he slammed the hatchet into its chest. He kept it at arms length and shoved the knife through the creatures eye. He dodged the third one and used its momentum to shove it into one of the defensive spikes. He then slammed the hatchet into the back of its head. By the time he had finished with the third, the gate opened and a truck rolled out. He slipped inside as the gates closed, and found a few guards loosely surrounding him. Wood pulled out a bandana from his pack and wiped the blades down, before sheathing them.
”Well, I guess I’m joining your little outfit.” Wood commented to the guards who looked at him.
Wood spent a few minutes organizing his gear while he waited at the main building. He noticed a couple of women go by, and even some children. He smiled at the thought of kids being safe. He noticed the strange way people looked at him. He felt his hair, which was sticky, and smelled himself. He looked awful. If they can, I’ll ask for a shower Wood thought before noticing Alex coming back towards him.
“Look, you can run your shoe however you see fit, but just as a heads up, that was not the only way out of that shop. There was a back alley we could have taken, or we could have simply waited to see if the group passed. Zombies are migratory, and unless you draw their attention, they’ll move on eventually.” Wood sighed as he put his pack back together.
”What I’m saying is just take some time and think next time, don’t panic. Supplies are limited and you Just wasted a lot of gas and ammunition that could have been saved.” Wood finished, standing up.
”Now, what’s the deal? How do I earn my keep? I’m sure you require every person here to do some sort of work for the settlement.” Wood inquired, letting Alex lead him around the settlement.
Description: Choppy blonde hair with hazel eyes. Wears a white t Shirt, over which he wears a vest. He wears a pair of jeans, though he prefers slacks. Has a scar from under his eye towards his
Gear: Police grade MP5k and a 1911. Each with about 100 rounds. A backpack filled with maps of the Pacific West. Small first aid kit. Compass with needle and truest inside. A small switchblade knife with the initials DF carved in it.
backstory: Daemon had been running criminal operations on the west coast when all the unpleasantness started. The financial collapse, if anything, made his occupation more profitable. He and the half dozen or so men who followed him did odd jobs until they had around 15 hidden supply caches tucked away across the town. The goal was to store away in case things got worse, and they did. He was out on a job when the zombies struck, and in a flash his team scattered. He laid low at his place for a few weeks, until all his supplies ran out. He then raided the nearest cache, but one of his team had stolen some of it, leaving him just enough food, ammunition, and medicine to head off towards one of the other caches. Daemon was hunkered down in his fifth cache location when the radio played, announcing there were survivors. He smiled, thinking of how he might have a job again. That, and he had 4 of the 15 caches stored around LA.
Daemon looked out the window of the small apartment building towards downtown LA. He had made it into the city just yesterday, and had set up in this apartment. Whoever had lived here must have died away from home, because most of the canned food was untouched. That bought him a few days to find out where these survivors where and see if they had anything worth taking or, less likely, if they were worth joining. He’d seen all kinds of local warlords set themselves up in major cities. Men who made women their property and who feasted on the best food available until they were killed by one of their servants, and they took their place.
Daemon had secured the door and already had a quick meal of beans and SPAM, before he turned his attention to the man’s closet. Apparently he had been a businessman of sorts, because he had quite the spiffy wardrobe.
I wonder if the apocalypse has a market for high end clothes Daemon wondered as he looked at a few of the man’s ties. He found one he liked and took it, folded it up, and tucked it in his backpack. He then opened the bottle of whiskey he had taken from his last cache and poured himself a small glass. He preferred whiskey on the rocks, but without electricity, he was hundreds of miles away from the nearest ice, most likely.
He sat with his drink on a nearby couch, the small radio set up next to him. He lazily flipped through the stations while he drank, until he heard something. It seemed to be some woman arguing with a man about who would “go out.” Daemon listened for any location based details, but he didn’t hear any more. He sighed and left the radio on while he laid back.
”How I miss the way the world use to be.” Daemon muttered, closing his eyes.
*With a screech, the motorcycle came to a halt at the end of the dusty tarmac. It had at one point been a Honda, and the badge still said Honda, but it was mostly custom and aftermarket parts now. Were it not for all the dust, it would have been bright blue. A man swung his leg over the bike and dismounted. He was a long thin man in a worn denim jumpsuit, kneepads and elbowpads built in. He wore a harness around his chest from which hung a variety of tools, and a backpack bulged on his thin frame. He took a moment to survey his surroundings, pulling his riding goggles up over the brim of his hat, a grease stained red affair which loudly exclaimed on a faded patch "BLATZ BEER, A PILSNER!" He'd stopped at a wrecked car at the roadside, and wasted no time in getting to work. He got down on his knees and wedged himself under the wrecked, and gently tapped at the gas tank. It made a dull thunk when tapped with a knuckle. He smiled, and got to work.
From the back of the bike he produced a gas can, which he delicately placed under the tank. With what looked like quite a beefy can opener, he punched a hole in the bottom of the tank. No gas fell, as the tension and slight vacuum held it in place. At least, until he punched another hole in the side of the tank above the fluid line, at which point the gas glugged merrily into the gas can.
He stood up then, and wiped his brow. It was hot. He estimated he was somewhere in Utah. He had been quite a pasty fellow in his youth, but now he was crisped by the sun. He'd been traveling for months now, heading generally west, following vague rumors of a doctor trying to put society back together. The plateau around him was vacant, and heat lines came up from the sands. No zombies here, not at the moment anyways. This was bandit country though, and he could not afford to linger. Plenty of people that would love to strip his bike, and maybe him, for parts.
The glugging had stopped, and strange retrieved and capped the gas can. It wasn't much, but it would get him another eighty miles. It went back onto the bike, as did the man. He'd been a machinist before the end. He'd never really stopped that. Working for different warlords and tribes out east until he simply could not live that way anymore. He'd heard the rumors, hopped in his bike, and left. He was Strange "Blackfinger" Bessemer, and he was going to California. The bike roared to life, and the wrecked car was again a lonesome reminder of what had been lost. *
Wood wasn’t sure he believed this settlement had such laid back rules, but perhaps they were taking it easy on him to start with. That’s how he would do it if he was running the place.
”I can probably help with supplies and maybe mapping out any choice locations for a bigger supply run.” Wood commented, before she told him about the prospect of a shower and bed. Wood nodded and gave her his thanks. He walked toward the building.
It appeared to be an old school motel, likely that originally catered to those who came to visit the beach or Marina area. Now, it was a part of this settlement, with the windows boarded up and the door reinforced with steel. He walked t he Pugh the opening and was surprised to see all the women and children. He couldn’t stop himself from looking around to see if Rachel or Any were here. He didn’t see them, and he shook himself out of it. He walked up to the front desk, where a lady was organizing some keys on hooks. Her skin was dark chocolate, with braids hanging behind her head. She had on a pair of cargo pants and beige t-shirt.
”I was told I could find a room and shower here?” Wood asked. The woman looked up and smiled.
”Oh, you must be new. Yes, a few of the rooms on the first floor act as a sort of shower. It’s currently shower time for the women and children, but the time for men will come in about.. 30 minutes or so. That’ll give you time to drop off your stuff. Here’s a key… 312 should be empty. I’m Kim, nice to meet you.” The woman smiled, tossed him a key, and went back to digging under the table.
”Oh, I have one other question. Is there anything these people need?” Wood asked. Kim’s hand pointed as she continued to fumble around under the front desk.
”There’s a community board on the wall over there. One section is dedicated to donations and the other is dedicated to requests.” Kim said. Wood thanked her again and walked over. He looked at the flyers, before noticing one. It was asking for baby clothes, toys, pacifiers, and other things for small children. Wood took the flyer down and put it in his backpack. He then headed to his room.
The inside was small but relatively clean. He head a bedroom, a desk, a small closet, and most importantly, a small safe. I always loved these at motels Wood thought as he tucked his photo and a few other valuables into the safe. He created a new combo and began to unload. He put all the canned and dried food he had into the fridge, just for a place to keep them. He hung his backpack, rifle, and some of the camping gear in the closet, seeing as he didn’t really have any spare clothes. He then looked out the window at the community as the sun went down. Dinner would likely be soon.
”Well, here’s to hoping this place lasts.” Wood said to himself, before heading down to get a shower