Horror F E E D (A Zombie Apocalypse)

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by spycoder9, Jan 29, 2014.

Moderators: Penguinator, Ramza
  1. Shira A'dola Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 4, 2012
    star 6
    .:Collaboration with The Great No One:.

    IC: Aaliyah Hayes

    UT Austin, Outside of Austin

    Aaliyah held back a blush, keeping her composure as the man commented on her apparent right to lead. Compliments and praise had never been something she was comfortable with and, combined with her reluctance to lead, the commendation was less than welcome, especially from a stranger she’d only just met. She smiled slightly, however, and nodded her head at the man Quentin Sipes. “I’m sorry about your luck, Quentin. Feeders are a plague, but you’re lucky you didn’t run into worse company. There are dangers out there more potent than Feeders.” She went silent for a moment and scrutinized the man. There was something in his eyes that made her uneasy. Nothing obvious, nothing she could pinpoint, but there seemed to be a certain instability there. There’s a bit of madness in everyone who’s still alive in this forsaken world now, though. She turned to listen to the other two who didn’t see anything against letting him in. Greg was obviously against it, but she had to admit, she wouldn’t be against spiting him a bit after this morning.

    She turned back to the preacher and looked him up and down while he talked, assessing him. Knowledge of plants and gardening was good. Roslyn was really the only person besides Aaliyah herself who knew how to work the garden enough to grow enough crops and she’d probably welcome an extra hand. Besides, if that extra hand was there, she could put other people to better use somewhere else. There was a lot more than just the handful of them could do around here. If need be, she could always kick the man out if he proved to be trouble, but she didn’t let on that she had made a decision yet. Her eyes looked him up and down again. “Have any other skills besides gardening and lifting things?”

    What Quentin wanted to say was that he could help lead them into righteousness, show them the flaws in their ways and how to fix them. But that would never do. In some ways they would have to come to him and eventually he would get them to. But first, well, what could he do that was useful? “I’m a fair hand at trapping, which is a large part of how I have managed to keep myself fed, thanks to the grace of God. And had I the materials, I was once fairly good at mending things, clothes in particular, but coming by thread and needles these days…a saying about a haystack comes to mind. Put me to work where you need me, wise woman, even if it’s merely carrying waste.” Not that he was particularly willing to do that, but whatever got a foot in the door.

    Before Aaliyah could reply, Greg broke in. “We don’t need any of that. All you are is another mouth to feed, and a trouble causer. I don’t like his eyes, Aaliyah. You’ll regret letting him in.” He crossed his arms, glaring at the man outside the gate.

    As much as she hated to admit it, Aaliyah agreed with Greg on this one, and spite just didn’t’ seem a good enough reason to go against him. Sighing internally, she tapped the man on the shoulder. “A private word, Greg.” The man followed her around the corner and she turned around, arms folded, to face him. “Look. I don’t like this guy either. There’s something off about him, but there’s no good reason to keep him out and, quite honestly, I think people need new faces around here. There’s been too much tension lately. If I let him in, and I’m leaning towards that, would you keep an eye on him when I can’t and make sure he behaves?”

    Standing there, eyes widening in disbelief, Greg felt his jaw clench. “He isn’t getting in my place. I don’t care what you think, he’s trouble. I’ve been in enough fights to know trouble when I see it. I’m washing my hands of him. Get one of the others to do it. I’m not going to be anywhere near the man if I can avoid it.” Greg crossed his arms and dared her to make him. It was the first time in months that he’d blatantly refused to do something, and this time it wasn’t because he was being selfish.

    Groaning, the younger woman tossed her hands in the air. “Did you not just hear me agree with you? I know he’s trouble! But I also think he could be useful, and I’m not planning on letting him stay very long. If nothing else, it’s human compassion to at least let him restock a bit before we chuck him back into hell!”

    Standing there for a moment, Greg simply looked at her with his arms crossed. It almost seemed like he wasn’t going to say anything else, until eventually he said, “Give him some water and two days’ food, then get rid of him.” There was a certain finality to his words and, as far as he was concerned, the discussion was over.

    Aaliyah took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She really would have liked to slap him, but she knew his concerns were valid, and slapping him wouldn’t do anything more than increase friction between them, so she just stalked back to the gate, rubbing her face. I hate being the leader. She turned to Quentin, keeping her face neutral. “I’ll let you in for a few days to rest and stock up. Does that sound fair to you?”

    Spreading his ands, bible in one of them, he said graciously, “That would be most amicable, wise woman. I promise I will earn my keep. If you wouldn’t mind telling me your name, I’d be most appreciative to know who my savior is.” He stood there, smiling his strangely white smile, and waited to be let in.

    A slightly uncomfortable expression crossed her face, undetectable except to those who knew her well. She didn’t like his constant praise. “Aaliyah. If you cause any trouble, you’ll be out of here before you can quote a verse. One of the guys will show you where to go.” She turned to Scott. “Will you show him around the garden? It needs work today.” The man nodded and she walked past him on her way to the stables, whispering out of the preacher’s hearing, “Keep an eye on him,” before walking away, oddly shaken.

    TAG: @The Great No One
    Last edited by Shira A'dola, Jul 24, 2014
  2. Falcon Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Feb 7, 2002
    star 10
    IC: Mekaila Carlos - Austin Texas
    Pharmacy Alleyways - Rooftop

    Mekaila watched as the screaming woman pulled out a knife causing her to raise a brow feeling a little surprised. She didn’t think the other woman was capable, especially with all the screaming she did earlier this morning.

    As they followed Abigail through alley’s and climbed over several rooftops, they finally came to a stop on a rooftop in front of a door. The woman knocked. The door opened as a man with a rifle walked out.

    “Abby!” He wrapped her in a one armed hug. “We thought you’s dead out there. Heard the screamin’ over here.”

    “The door got stuck.” Abby squeezed the little girl’s shoulder. “They almost got her. If it wasn’t for those two, we'd be dead.” The woman gestured to Michiyo and Mekaila.

    “Then we owe ‘em our thanks, and a good bowl a soup.” The man stepped out of the doorway and offered his hand. He had a gapped smile, missing a few of his teeth here and there, but it was less crazed than most. “Steve Patterson, at ye service.”

    Mekaila gave a slight smile and nodded in agreement to the doc’s answer. A bowl of soup did sound great but this was a strong hold out, they would have to be cautious that they weren’t stripped of anything they had on them. She glanced at the doc and gave a weary smile. “Keep your eyes open just in case, “she mouthed to the doc.

    Mekaila turned her attention to the man and with a tight smile. “I do remember seeing you around town a few times. I’m Captain Carlos, used to be with the US military until things swung south. Nice place you have here.”

    Mekaila glanced at the Doc again and gave her a warning to be cautious look. She wasn’t sure if these were friendlies or those looking to lure others into a trap and take what little they had left. She wasn’t too sure of their hospitality too much considering no one came to help Abigail and the little girl out. That was a question sitting in the back of her mind. She found it strange.

    @spycoder9, @Ktala
    Last edited by Falcon, Jul 25, 2014
    Ktala and spycoder9 like this.
  3. Chukles38 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jun 10, 2005
    star 5
    IC: Jeremiah Quinton Horskand
    Jeremiah’s Makeshift Laboratory, UT Austin

    With a click, Jeremiah slid the slide into the microscope. It was a nice piece, a testament to the resources piled into the new medical building UT had finished less than a year before the outbreak. Sad, really. Jeremiah doubted they’d have bothered if they had known. There was one small issue, however. It was, by far, one of the most advanced research and medical facilities he had ever seen, and he had worked in a good number of prestigious hospitals. He’d seen impressive. This was nice indeed--as far as the private sector was concerned--but of course it was extremely high tech. It had proven impossible to find a microscope that hadn’t required electricity. In the end, he’d had to deconstruct the base of one and rearrange the innards to amplify the light from a small candle. The situation was not ideal, and he had to wonder how effective he would be in his task without the aid of electricity. His eyes involuntarily shot to his satchel, leaning up in a chair several feet away.

    A sound at the door drew his gaze away from both the bag and the sliver of FEED flesh beneath the scope. A man stood there, aged and stout. What was his name? Phil, yes, or something much like it. From what Jeremiah had heard he was an accomplished hunter, though all he’d gathered thus far was the man’s reluctance to speak. Quite a quiet one, that. Nervous, too if his posture could be trusted. Jeremiah had long ago found that medical equipment unnerved most people, doubly so since the FEED outbreak was commonly pinned on doctors and scientists. Jeremiah supposed it might be ignorance, plain and simple. Yes, the setting around him, more comfortable than his own home now, might have unnerved him at some point. Granted, the dust and low light didn’t help. He’d cleaned the cobwebs away, but had little time to dust thus far. He had had to cover the windows to see anything in the microscope, so the lab was dimly lit by candles.

    Jeremiah adopted an easy grin as he greeted Phil. “Ah, good, I had been hoping to see you soon. I’m anxious for my new specimen. Please, come in. No need to be so nervous.” Long ago Jeremiah had learned how proper bedside manner should look, and he was quite gifted at it. He could set almost anyone at ease with his calm and reassuring manner, but it seemed to have little effect on Phil.

    “Ah, no thanks, Doc. Places to be, ya know?” Jeremiah didn’t, nor did he believe the man, but that was of no consequence.

    “Of course, good sir, of course. Let’s go then, shall we?” Phil seemed quite agreeable to this new plan, though of course the man said nothing. As Jeremiah cleaned up his workspace, he decided to try some small talk. “I assume everything went well? Everyone okay?” His eyes were locked on his work, though his tone was casual as he sealed the container with his last sample of FEED flesh suspended in its solution. The slide he removed and slipped into a case. One couldn’t be too careful with this infection. The smallest contact could spread it as quick as a bite. He saw no need to vocalize this and frighten the poor man.

    “Yeah, all good.” Phil replied. “Mal and Jared are good at what they do.” It was more information than he had anticipated, and Jeremiah smiled approvingly at Phil. Almost ready now. He grabbed his satchel and slipped it over his shoulder before moving over to the revolver set on his desk. With practiced motions he picked up the gun and uncocked the hammer. Out of nervous habit he clicked open the cylinder, giving it a spin to check it was fully loaded. He’d had to fire it sparingly, and had a good bit of ammunition stashed. Satisfied, he flipped it shut and slid the safety on before he slipped it into the waistline of his slacks. The weapon was not too large, but it could scatter a man’s brains with ease. That was all he needed from it. He refused to succumb to the FEED infection.

    “All set,” he stated with a smile as he moved around the lab table and out into the hall. He shut the door behind him and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. It took a few moments to flip through the large assortment to find the proper key, but once he locked the lab he was moving in no time. Jeremiah couldn’t help but notice the look Phil gave him. “To keep my research intact,” he explained. “There are people who might wish to tamper, or get into some of the chemicals I use in there. Have to ensure my tests remain untampered with.” Phil merely grunted, and Jeremiah was unsure if his easy manner had convinced the hunter. Ah, well, that was Phil’s business, wasn’t it?

    Jeremiah led the way with a certainty to his step. He’d already committed much of the facility to memory, and he could navigate the winding halls with little difficulty. Several floors down they arrived at the loading dock, where Phil had parked the wagon. At the sound of their approach--perhaps the smell of dinner approaching even--the creature inside the crate began to thrash against the wood planks. Jeremiah couldn’t see it, but the noise was enough to confirm it was a FEEDer.

    “Very nice work, Phil,” the doctor grinned, slapping the other man on the back. Jeremiah rushed forward and leapt to the wagon bed, excitement granting him a certain spring to his step. He examined the crate thoroughly. “Huh, I had asked for a hole. No matter, I came prepared.” He jumped up and moved to the wall, grabbing a hand saw with a pointed tip off of a peg.

    Before long he was back in the wagon, poised above the crate. He caught sight of the rifle in the seat of the wagon and set the saw down on top of the crate, reaching for the gun. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Phil’s hand drift to his pistol, though the man seemed intent to trust the doctor. For now. Jeremiah had no doubt the hunter would drop him in a heartbeat though. Showing once more his experience with firearms, Jeremiah checked to see if it was loaded. It was. He ensured the safety was engaged before turning to Phil. “Here,” he called before tossing the weapon to him. Phil caught it and instinctively put it to his shoulder, muzzle pointed at the floor as he searched for a threat.

    Jeremiah picked the saw up, “If it breaks out,” he said, poised to thrust the saw into the wood, “and gets me, shoot it first, then don’t hesitate to blow my brains across this loading dock, got it?” Jeremiah reared up to thrust the metal into the wood, Phil opened his mouth to reply his assent, but neither finished their action as a gasp drew their attention to the open door of the receiving dock. Jeremiah looked through the open bay door, past Phil’s turning form, as his hand drifted to the butt of his pistol. One did not live this long in this new world without being a bit on edge at all times.

    TAG: @The Great No One
    Last edited by Chukles38, Jul 25, 2014
  4. Master Selkath Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Oct 5, 2013
    star 2
    IC: Dylan Phillips

    A Day’s walk from UT Austin

    Dylan had actually enjoyed his time at the waystation. The food was good and the people were kind which was something that was hard to come by in the world they live in. He has met his fair share of people since the outbreak began but most of them were not so kind. The peace in the waystation was very nice after moving for so long but he knew that it wasn’t the place he was meant to stay at. Call it fate or call it god but he just had a feeling that it wasn’t the place to stay.

    He was happy that the days since his departure from the waystation had been sunny. He could see his surroundings perfectly, for a 46 year old man. He saw a feeder or two every once in a while but besides that the land was very tranquil for the apocalypse. He was able to actually think about life before it all. He thought of when he came to Austin when he was 21 years old. That was the year he registered as a republican, the year he bought his car that he would use for the next 25 years, the year he decided to be a psychologist, and the year he met his wife. He eventually married her and got his doctorates degree in psychology. They bought their first house and he had made what other business owners called a “prosperous” business. He still made time to go to church every Sunday and donated to the church when he could. His wife had their only child a few years after the business began and life couldn’t have been better.

    Dylan stopped for a moment and laughed to himself. Those had been the good days, the business was booming, the family couldn’t be better, and church attendance was increasing. His wife had started a small garden in their backyard and he learned some good skills on gardening that he still thanks her for, especially now.

    He then began to remember what some people called his addiction to history. He had always been a fan of history, specifically World War 2. When his company boomed he had bought his Luger P08 which he still had now. He knew World War 2 from the annexation of Austria, dropping of the atomic bombs, and everything in between. He was called a walking encyclopedia by his wife when it came to history.

    Dylan finally focused back on reality and felt some happiness from being able to remember all of the good times before now which he called hell on earth. He noticed a small copse of trees in the distance and thought that it was a good place to relax for a little bit, possibly even eat some food.

    Dylan got closer to the tree line when he smelt something. It smelt like a mix of alcohol and smoke and he realized that someone might be camped in there. He crouched down by the nearest tree and looked over quietly. He saw a campsite with things scattered all over the place. One of them was getting up but Dylan noticed a group of bottles next to the men’s beds which meant they were out cold. He was trying to see what the third man was doing but the man was focusing on a bat that he had in his hand. The man turned his head down to the ground and started taking his pants off. That was when Dylan heard the scream of a girl and he realized what the man was doing. The girl sounded very young and wasn’t very content with what the man was about to do. Dylan silently grabbed his trusty crowbar and realized that he only had to deal with the one man. The other two were out cold but his gun would probably wake them and that would only complicate things.

    Dylan slowly began creeping up to the man, making sure that he didn’t make noise by stepping on something. The man seemed to preoccupied staring at the girl to notice him. Dylan got close enough behind him and then waked him on the head with the crowbar. The man wasn’t a feeder so his flesh wasn’t decayed enough for the crowbar to go through but it still did a good deal of damage. The man fell to the ground and Dylan began to bludgeon the man’s head. The man tried to grab the bat he had been looking at earlier but it was too late. Dylan’s last blow finally smashed through the man’s head. Dylan watched as the man’s body finally stopped squirming from his attempt to get away before he moved forward. It made him feel sick doing that but it had to be done.

    Dylan picked up a shard from a broken bottle on the ground and cut the rope on the girl. He noticed a pair of pants a few inches away and grabbed them. He grabbed her hand and then ran out of the camp. When they were finally out of view from the camp, he put her down and gave her the pants, though she took hesitantly. It took some time for her which was probably out of shock but she put them on.

    When she finished Dylan finally spoke to her, “My name’s Dylan Phillips and I won’t hurt you, what’s your name?”

    TAG: @The Great No One
  5. Ktala Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    Dr. Michiyo Miharu - Morning, Austin Texas
    The Rooftop

    Michiyo wasnt feeling the best about this, but considering things, she wasnt sure what to do. As she looked over at the Captain, she saw the woman felt similar. She glanced at her, with a tired looking smile. And she was able to read what she mouthed towards her. Michi gave a nod.

    The Captain then turned to the man, and spoke to him. She had seen him as well. She introduced herself, and then looked back over at her again. Now Michiyo was feeling a bit nervous. It was hard to give trust these days. Some humans lived on the fact of setting up a trap, using a kid to lure folks in, and then strip em bare, if they were lucky. And it was obvious that the Captain was probably thinking the same thing. After all, if they had heard the screaming, then why didnt any of them come to help? That was kinda weird. And that screaming lady went from screaming lady to knife welding slayer was still in the back of her mind as well. Michiyo stopped, and coughed slightly, as she took a back step. She then muttered something in Japanese.

    "I.. I am not comfortable in high buildings...." Michiyo looked over at the Captain, and then turned her attention back to the man, while giving plenty of room of letting the Abby and the kid go through, her body remaining relaxed. "But, Abigail says that you have some injured people, yes?" Michi wanted to know what kind of injuries they were speaking of, before locking themselves in a building full of em. And Michi really did not like tall buildings. Too easy to become deathtraps that were difficult to get out of, if defenses were broken. Also, too many rooms to keep track of. Unless you had lots of people. And so far, Michiyo had not seen too many large groups of survivors. Large groups tended to be difficult to maintain. Too much noise. But still, they had a kid with them. So who knows. She just knew she was willing to trust the Captain more than the others at the moment.

    TAG: @Falcon, @spycoder9
    spycoder9 and Falcon like this.
  6. spycoder9 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jul 23, 2008
    star 4
    OOC: Taking a page from The Great No One's book, I'll be taking a couple GM-characters and updating things from their view. ;) Not always, but occasionally.

    IC: Elias Tillman Sr.
    The Tillman Ranch

    “Eli,” She called to him in her deep Southern drawl, “Eli, I’m ready.”

    She laid on sheets that stank of smoke and sweat. The hotel curtains were eaten away with moths, but her sitting there, draped in a coverlet that denied its very name, drove all else from his mind. The very sight of her was enough to send him into her arms. The fact that his bones didn’t ache anymore was enough to push her back against the pillows, prepared to kiss her.

    She moaned an inhuman noise. He opened his eyes, and stared into the eyes of a Feeder.

    She seized his throat with rotted fingertips. Groaning, she snapped at his face.

    He woke up sweating profusely again. At least this time he didn’t call out. Some nights, one of his boys would wake him up to calm him down. Those nights he hated the most, when he saw the pity in their eyes. He didn’t need their damn pity, he was their father. All he wanted was her back.

    Elias put his clothes on without thinking. It was almost a numb state that he found himself in, though his joints did ache this time. They never ached in his dreams.

    As he stood up, he caught his reflection in his wife's vanity, which was already covered in a layer of dust. The person looking back at him was a gaunt, grey-haired stranger.

    “Jake!” He shouted, “Hobey, get up! Both of ya!” It’d take a few more shouts to get them up and going, but the sun hadn’t even crested the horizon yet. This was hunting day, like there was once a month. They couldn’t live off all of the livestock on the farm, not without depleting all of their supplies prematurely. It helped to get out and scour the lands for any other food. It was dangerous, but a year’s training had done them all well.

    Elias started the fire, hoping to fix something better than usual. It needed to be something that would get the boys up and running.

    “Huntin’ day?” The lankiest of his sons slipped into the room quietly. Tall and skinny, just like...

    “Course it is.” Elias popped an egg on the skillet. “Where’s your brother?”

    “Gettin' up.” Jake glanced back down the hall. “Well, I thought I heard him gettin' up. Coulda been his nightmares though.”

    Nightmares. I’m not the only one… “Get em up. We gotta be up and outta here by sunrise.”

    “I love huntin’ day.” The young man grinned as slipped back from where he came.

    Elias did too, but for an entirely different reason.

    The Feeders… they’ve made monsters of us all.

    TAG: @HanSolo29
  7. The Great No One Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jun 4, 2005
    star 8
    OOC: My apologies for taking so long to get posts up here. I've been having a rough time of it. Should get things up in the next couple of days.

    IC: Roslyn Grigson/ UT Austin/ Outside Austin

    The hugs from Aaliyah were the best part of the morning, followed by breakfast. After Roslyn had to clean and she never enjoyed scrubbing pots with cold water. She wasn’t the most warm blooded person in the world, and it tended to make her cold, but she wasn’t going to make Aaliyah do it with all the work she had with keeping everything running. Being more than capable of sucking it up, at least for something like this, Roslyn set about cleaning the bowls while she let some water simmer in the cooking pot. At least the bowls were easy, even if the gunk left in the bottom of the sink would need to be carried outside and dumped. They’d had to change apartments once because the sink had become so backed up that it might as well have had a completely solid bottom.

    Grabbing the cooking pot and letting it sit on the stove for a moment, better to let the bottom cool a bit so she could actually touch it without getting burned, Roslyn took out the switchblade that Aaliyah had given her. The gentle snikt sound it made whenever she pushed the blade out was reassuring in a way, but Roslyn doubted she could ever use it on a person, even Greg, unless he were actively trying to kill her. The fallout from attacking him was something to avoid, not quite at all costs but near enough. He was arguably the most useful person they had in the group, since they hadn’t found anyone else that could repair things. Or keep the plumbing working. He was really the only reason they hadn’t had to resort to outhouses, for which everyone there had been extremely thankful.

    Closing the knife again, Roslyn got down to business. She wanted to get outside in the sunlight as soon as she could, needed to feel the warmth of it on the back of her neck, her face, wherever she could feel it. If she could go skinny dipping somewhere, Roslyn knew she’d do it in a heartbeat. Alas, anywhere she could go be by herself meant being well away from everyone else, which was not the kind of situation she was willing to put herself in. At all.

    Finally finishing up the pot, Roslyn set it aside to dry, and went to go get herself ready for the day’s work. She wasn’t thrilled about having to carry water all day again, she suspected she was going to need a massage or something in the near future if this kept up, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. The plants needed to be watered, and weeded, but maybe she could finish early enough that she could go and do something for herself. A smile crossed her lips as she thought about going and drawing one of the landscapes she’d found in the library. Maybe some mountains…

    Heading out the door with her gear, switchblade on her belt, Roslyn went to the storage shed where she’d left the bucket she used to lug water around. Originally she’d been using gallon water jugs, but those had eventually worn out and cracked. At least the buckets weren’t showing any indication that they were going to do the same.

    As she walked through the campus, sun already beginning to beat down hotter than anyone there would have liked, Roslyn felt herself relaxing for the first time all morning. The simple act of walking was more therapeutic than anything else she could think of at the moment. After several minutes she arrived at the shed, and saw someone standing outside. A young woman with shoulder length brown hair, tanned skin, and brown eyes stood outside, obviously waiting for her. “Hi Mary,” Roslyn said with a smile spreading across her face. “There anything I can help you with?” Mary was about the only person who she’d call a friend other than Aaliyah, but she was married and had her own jobs so they didn’t get to see each other as often as she’d have liked.

    Mary came over and wrapped Roslyn up in a hug for a moment before moving towards one of the buckets as she said, “Figured I could give you a hand. I need to be outside more, and the thought of you lugging these buckets by yourself every day… Well, I didn’t really like it. I hope that we can get done faster and then move on to something else.” Grabbing two buckets, Mary started heading towards their water pump but was brought up short as Vincent, one of the two watchmen, lead an older man over to them. He was a scruffy looking guy, with hair going white and a suit with holes in it.

    Looking the man over Roslyn began to feel antsy. So much for relaxing. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was just something off about him. “Who’s that with you Vincent?” Noting that she was having a little trouble keeping her voice steady, Roslyn tried to hide a grimace.

    “New guy. Aaliyah said he could stay for a coupla days. She figured you could use some help with the water and all. His name’s Quentin.” It was obvious that Vincent didn’t want to hang around, his edging back towards the gate sending the message that he didn’t particularly want to be around the group’s pariah.

    Moving forward, Roslyn took Quentins hand and said softly, “It’s nice to meet you Quentin. I’m Roslyn, and this is Mary.” Glancing at Vincent she continued, “You can get back to work Vincent, I think we’ll be okay here.” Not even getting a response, she watched Vincent turn on his heels and leave.

    “That was rather rude of him,” Quentin said. “Not that there isn’t an overabundance of that these days. I’ve certainly seen more than my fair share recently.” Shaking his head for a brief moment before his demeanor brightened. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Roslyn my dear. Might I inquire as to who your charming companion might be?” He released Roslyn’s hand and offered it to Mary.

    Setting one of the buckets down, Mary moved forward and took the proffered hand, saying “I’m Mary. I hope you don’t mind lugging water buckets around, that’s pretty much what we’re doing for right now.” While Roslyn wouldn’t have said she was hasty in letting go of Quentin’s hand, she certainly didn’t let linger.

    “Oh, that is quite fine. As I told your leader, Aay… something or the other, I am quite capable of manual labor if that is all that is needed,” Quentin said, looking around the shed. There were various other tools, from hedge clippers to spades to an old fashioned push mower scattered around, as well as rope, containers and some things that Roslyn didn’t even know what were.

    Gently she corrected him, “Her name is Aaliyah. I can understand why you might have trouble with it. If you need somewhere to put your book, the shelves in here are safe.” She saw Quentin nod with thanks, and moved to set the book, which she saw was a Bible, down on the uppermost shelf.

    “Thank you kindly. That is my most treasured possession, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost it. Might… you have something that I could drink? My canteen is very close to empty,” Quentin said, his voice edging towards raspy.

    Motioning for the other two to follow, Roslyn grabbed a pair of buckets herself and started walking. “We have a pump setup, you can have as much of it as you want.” “Truly the Lord is merciful to his servant,” Quentin said softly. “Thank you again, my dear. I promise we will get your work done fast enough for you to have some time to relax.” He started walking away, having grabbed two buckets, before pausing and looking back at Roslyn and Mary. “If… you would be kind enough to show me the way, I would appreciate it.”

    Nodding, Roslyn motioned for him to follow, trying not to think about the switchblade in her pocket. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but there was something about this man that made her nervous. So much for a relaxing day in the garden. All she could do was hope she wouldn’t forget how.

    TAG: No One
    spycoder9 and Shira A'dola like this.
  8. HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist

    Member Since:
    Apr 13, 2001
    star 6
    IC: Hobey Tillman
    The Tillman Ranch

    It was the faint cry of his father coming from the kitchen that eventually roused Hobey from a fitful sleep. Like so many other things in this new world, a restless night was becoming the norm and not the exception. He attributed that to the nightmares and the constant reminder that those creatures were always on the move, seeking out their prey and granting no remorse to the innocent, even within the safety of one’s own bed. You almost had to sleep with one eye open to ensure that you made it through the night intact. It was a grisly thought, but one Hobey and the others had to live with since the outbreak began. You either adapted to live within the confines of Hell or you became one of the weak and fell victim to the Feeders.

    Or, in some cases, you took matters into your own hands and decided the fates of others for them…

    Maria Dunn had been a recent casualty to that way of thinking. Hobey breathed in deeply, his eyes focused across the room on the pale light that was beginning to brighten behind the curtains as his mind wandered to the young woman. She had come into their lives and onto their ranch in a whirlwind, bringing about a half dozen Feeders along in her wake. While the creatures had been easily disposed of and the perimeter secured to prevent further breeches, it left them with the problem of Maria and what to do with her. Hobey had never been very trusting of strangers and had opted to give her supplies and send her own her way, but naturally, Pa disagreed with that assessment. The old man didn’t have a callous part in his heart and instead offered her refuge in exchange for her labor in the yard and gardens. Given how helpless and scared she was, it didn’t take much to convince her to agree to such a deal. And so, life trudged on as usual...until a few nights ago.

    It had been damp and drizzling off and on for the majority of the day, forcing Maria to work indoors in one of the cattle barns. She had been slaving away to clean out one of the animal stalls when Hobey stumbled upon her while tending to his duties. Given their current circumstances, it had been such a long time since he had enjoyed the company of a female companion and Maria seemed ripe for the picking. Seeing that she was already in a fragile state, it didn’t take too much effort to corner her and work his charm to seduce her. But then she did something that he was unaccustomed to and frankly, surprised him, given her mental state – she refused him. And not just verbally, she fought him tooth and nail as he tried to make his advances until she managed to somehow squirm free and make her retreat.

    The funny thing about the whole incident was that she kept her mouth shut about it. Whether it was out of embarrassment or fear that he would come after her again to hurt her, she never told Pa or Jake what had happened in the cattle barn. To make matters worse, Hobey had done some digging through her personal items when she had been busy out in the yard and discovered an even more disturbing truth – she had been lying about her age and was only fifteen! Nothing more than a teenager! That had been the final straw and from that moment forward, he had been determined to get her off the ranch to save him from any grief.

    He spoke to Pa later that evening and gave him a pretty good sob story about how he didn’t trust her and how unsuited she was for this kind of environment, reinforcing his story by revealing her true age. Knowing Pa, there were two hooks in the story that were certain to factor into his decision. One were his sons – he had a soft spot for both Jake and himself, especially after their older brother’s death, and if one of his sons had this kind of concern over some squirrely girl, he was sure to listen. The other was lying. Pa did not stand for that sort of thing and Hobey could see it directly on his face as soon as he mentioned the age thing. The odds were surely in his favor.

    His wish was granted when Pa had broken the news to Maria the next morning, offering her what limited supplies they could afford and promptly sending her on her way. That had been the last Hobey had seen or heard of Maria and frankly, it didn’t bother him in the least. She deserved whatever fate awaited her out there due to the mind games she had played with him and potentially compromising their serenity as a result.

    The sound of approaching footsteps from the hallway brought Hobey out of his reverie and he yawned as he slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He should have known that if he laid here long enough, someone would come to seek him out. Pa had a tendency to be impatient and grumpy this early in the morning, especially when it was hunting day. Something about keeping schedules and the importance of getting out there before the sun had a chance to crest over the hills. Hobey groaned at his Pa’s rationale as he tugged on a pair of jeans. He didn’t need schedules to point and shoot a rifle at some hapless animal. He’d rather have another hour or two of sleep…

    The footsteps stopped outside of his door and Hobey mentally winced before he forced himself to look up at the figure standing in the doorway. Much to his relief, it was his brother, Jake, and not Pa to chew him out.

    “Oh, it’s you,” he said flatly as he looked away again to seek out a clean shirt among the pile of clothes that had gathered around the foot of his bed. “Playin’ the message boy today, uh?” He shook his head with a smirk. “So damned impatient. Tell ‘em I’m comin’…I just need to finish gettin’ dressed.”

    TAG: @spycoder9
    Last edited by HanSolo29, Aug 6, 2014
    spycoder9 likes this.
  9. spycoder9 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jul 23, 2008
    star 4
    F E E D

    Austin, Texas


    The two of them spent a week traveling together.

    The Revenger was a rather solemn figure, prone to long bouts of silence. But when compared to what he'd said before meeting Sally, the words she cracked out of him seemed infinite. They proved to be a good team, both being extremely efficient warriors.

    They made their way out of the suburban areas over the next several days. It was an easy travel.

    Exactly seven days after first meeting, while Sally slept on the couch of a small ranch-house, the Revenger heard something.

    He had been sitting crouched in front of the window that looked out on the backyard. Once or twice during his watch a Feeder wandered by. One had come up on the back porch, alerted by a hooting owl, but Jae had dispatched of him with ease. These noises he heard now weren’t Feeder sounds. It was carefully taken footsteps. And to match them, he saw three shadows creep through some foliage. The moonlight behind them made every their features fade to black, but Jae could see the weapons in their hands. It was when one pointed to the house he and Sally were staying in that Jae leaped to his feet nimbly and rushed to the couch.

    “Wake up,” He hissed. “We’ve got company.”

    TAG: @Heavy Isotope

    greyjedi125 and Heavy Isotope like this.
  10. Heavy Isotope Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Oct 10, 2013
    star 3
    IC: Dao-ming "Sally" Leong
    Ranch-house, Austin, TX

    “Wake up,” A familiar voice hissed. “We’ve got company.”

    "What?" Sally said, lifting her head up slightly, holding her silenced AKS-74U in both hands.

    "People, armed," The Revenger said in his usual short sentences.

    Sally cursed quietly as she sat up and turned on it's reflex sight, her feet touching the floor, tying her shoe laces back up quickly. This'll be a good morning, she thought. Putting a magazine in and quietly loading a round she rubbed her eyes, stood up and slung the weapon so she could raise it should things go bad here. Putting on her backpack in case there was need for a quick retreat, she didn't carry much inside it, and still had all her explosives.

    She was reluctant to let him know about what she carried with her, it had only been a week and they had grown surprisingly reliable on one another. The only reason she was so quick to trust him was his actions in saving her when her beloved Jeep died on her. Damn, she missed that thing... But... Well she was here now, and they had each other's back. It was a pretty even trade-off. He was a much better fighter, but she had a gun and knew how to use it.

    "Well... Wait by the door, I'll keep an eye on the window and stay outta their sight. I'll keep an eye on them with this," Sally said raising the muzzle and pointing it at the approaching figures. Cursing them under her breath for not letting her get a full night of sleep.

    This had been a long week. These pricks might have to pay for waking her up.

    TAGS: @spycoder9 (And @greyjedi125, just so he can take a peek at what's happening now, should he be interested. :p )
    greyjedi125 likes this.
Moderators: Penguinator, Ramza