First CC RP: Sign-ups thread, and OOC: Empty Streets

[Kotaro]

As many of the earlier posts have pointed out, if you can get enough of a fan base up in forum games or in a usergroup, we'll expand our forums to fit those needs. It happened with Mafia games, it happened with the International Italian Forum recently, etc. So get some backing, and we'll come back to it later!
--Andy

2010

The film cuts in just after the anchorman has switched over to the correspondent surrounded by a blue border. Dressed in a dress shirt and a black vest, the man wears a medical mask and shifts nervously over the black bar on the screen showing his name. For a moment, the man looks around in a paranoid fashion, before nodding his head, the delayed message from the anchorman having made it's way to the plastic bit in his ear.

"That's correct Tim, I'm currently standing on the edge of Times Square, which has become a truly macabre place. Having nowhere else really to put them, this large square had become an impromptu dumping ground for the dead and dying."

A groan echoes through the night, turns into a shriek, and then a trailing moan, soon dying off into the background.

"As you can hear Tim, many of the bodies here in Times Square are still alive, but left unattended. From some cries, we, we...believe that they are some living people in the center of the main pile, that ...you can see here."

The man turns sideways out of the camera's view, allowing for a full shot of the square behind the reporter. As this happens, a cloth rustles, and the sound of someone expelling their stomach contents is heard. However, the noise is hardly registered against the scene before the camera.

"As you can see Tim, it has been only five days since the first signs of the plague began to surface, and already, most of New york City has been infected, and are counted among the deceased. From the current reports filing out with the evacuees, only around 5% of the city's population has survived, leaving over 15 million dead."

A shaking hand mops sweat from his brow

"From what I'm told, the city is now completely empty of the living, with the exception of the military, and a twenty-mile quarantine zone has been set up around the now vacant city. This will be our last report from the devastation of New York City. George Jones signing out. Tim."

The picture fades, and quickly switches to a pale and shaken looking Tim. Clearing his voice, the man of his early fifties looks down to the sheet of paper in front of him for a second before looking back up

"I have just been told that President Walken has declared New York City entirely off limits. The Army, Navy and Air Force has set up a perimeter around the quarantine zone. Anyone trying to enter or leave the quarantine zone will be shot on sight."

Grey and black lines crackle as the tv flickers off, power being completely cut-off from the city...


2011

A letter addressed to President Walken by the head of the military

Mr. President,

From our long-range scans and data collection, we believe that the last traces of the plague in the remains of New York City have died off. Our scientists have told us that it would now be feasible to send in teams to find out what started the New York City tragedy. I would like to begin to send in my men post haste, to discover the cause, and develop a cure, should it ever arise again.

Signed,
General Sun

A letter addressed to the head of the military from President Walken

General Sun,

The remains of New York City are a lost cause, and the painful memory for the people of the United States of America. At this point, only time will get rid of it, not interfering with the area. I am ordering you to pull back your men from the quarantine zone edge as quietly as possible, and leave the city alone. Oneday, we may return to the ruins; until than, let the dead lie in peace.

Signed,
President Walken

2011

A letter addressed to President Walken from the head of the military

Mr. President,

The last of my men have been moved from the NYC quarantine zone edge. However, reports have been coming in of people filtering into the remains of New York City. I would advise sending in men to find out exactly what these no doubt illegal groups are doing, and to prevent them from desecrating the dead.

Signed,
General Sun

A letter addressed to the head of the military from President Walken

General Sun,

I have no reason to send United States military personnel into a potentially dangerous area, against possibly hostile people. They are in a deserted area, a ruined and dead city, where they can do no harm to any living being. There are to be no, I repeat, ZERO men sent into the zone.

Signed,
President Walken

2012

Welcome to Empty Streets, in which you are the leader of one of the many gangs and groups that have snuck into the remains of New York City, which was decimated by a plague. However, if the gangs were hoping for an easy life in the ruins of the once great city, they were sorely mistaken. It seems that the plague was not finished with the bodies that it had killed off. Through some strange mutation, the bodies of the dead walk again as dessicated zombies.

Not only that, but there is something deeper. The bones of the dead can be found lying among the streets, teeth and claw marks etched into them. Weird marks can be found scarred into the sides of buildings, almost as if it was some sort of writing...

Character and Gang sheet

Name:
Age:
Sex:
Apperance:
Personality:
Description:
Weapons:

Gang name:
Description:
Common Weapons:
Hang Out:

Where to begin, where to begin:

You can start anywhere in the ruins of the city doing anything you like: Looting, killing zombies, exploring, etc. Once you have settled into your roles and interacted, a general plot will start.

Rules:

Normally, I would say "Normal RP rules apply"; as there are no rules yet, I guess I'll be the first one to set some down.

1) No God modding - this term is generally used to people that try to use others characters. This is not allowed unless express permission is given by the owner of the character. Other than that, the world is yours. *NOTE: you can reference others actions in your post, if you wish. Example:

Seeing that the horde was fast approaching, Kotaro quickly raced for the nearest exit, his eyes filled with fear, the knowledge that he may soon be joining Eclectic in the afterlife daunting him...

Seeing Kotaro flee down the corridor, Nate quickly followed, his heart pounding, as the sound of the horde echoed down the passageway...

2) No Children Posts - I do not like seeing posts that are 2 to 3 sentences long. The entire idea behind RP's is creativity, so be creative. Minimum 6 sentences per post. Also, no double posting - let others have a chance to put their creativity into this as well.

3) Over Excessive Profanity is not okay - The occasional swearing is fine, but I don't want to see posts where half the paragraph is obscenities. Lets try and make this enjoyable, eh?

4) In thread is for Gaming - When we make the main thread, try to stick to the game. You can have a little bit of off topic conversation (Using the OOC/Out of Character Tag), but try and keep it low

That's about it. Now, since this is my RP, I can ask for more details about your character before you're allowed to participate in it. If it looks like you put 2 minutes into your character sign-up, than I probably won't accept it.

I will post my own later on, as this gets moving. Once we have 4 or more sign-ups that have been accepted, another thread will be started, the thread where all the writing will be happening.

[Kotaro]

Accepted:
Mr. Squirrel
Natewolfman
animorpherv1
saraith

[saraith]

Preliminary Character and Gang sheet

Name: Looie
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Appearance: 5'10", Blond hair, missing left eye, scar across left cheek from lip to eye socket. Clothing is military issue, with badges and patches ripped off.
Personality: hard-nosed, no nonsense. he rules his gang the same as he would command a military unit.
Description: A lifetime ago, Looie was 1st Lieutenant Mitchell Crouse, a promising young officer in the US Marines. Lt. Crouse graduated from Annapolis Naval Academy at the top of his class, and was praised by his instructors and commanders alike as brilliant leader, excellent combatant, and one of the most honorable men to come out of the academy in years. All that changed, however, on August 17th, 2015. That was the day that he and his unit were sent into New York City for a routine recon mission.

A Soldier's Burden

"Major, you heard the orders, we can't go in there." Lieutenant Mitchell Crouse stood in front of the desk of his commanding officer.

"I will decide where this unit goes and where it does not go, Lieutenant!" Major Rickan was indignant at what he saw as insubordination. "Now, you will assemble Alpha Platoon and proceed to the city, where you will observe and report back to me."

Lt. Crouse wanted to tell his commander where he could shove those orders, he wanted to tell him that he would take the matter up with the Colonel, he wanted to punch him in the face for being so damned arrogant. But the young Lieutenant was a Marine, after all, and Marines did what they were told.

"Aye, Aye, Sir," was all he said before saluting and turning on his heel, smartly marching out of the command tent.

Crouse was not a tall man, 187 cm -that would have been 5 feet 10 inches in the old way of measuring- was not considered tall in this day and age, not with all the genetic manipulation in the military. Even so, he had a presence about him. His rugged good looks, his marvelous physique, his eyes of deep blue that so many young girls had swooned over, even the way he walked and his manner of speech created an air of superiority that no one could deny, even those who would call themselves his superior. Perhaps that was why he was sent on the missions with the least likelihood of survival. Perhaps his superiors were jealous of him. Rickan certainly was.

He didn't try to be that way; in fact, all through his plebe year at the academy he tried very hard not to. His older brother would have told him that his Charisma score was very high, maybe even a 19! That D&D stuff is fine for folks like his brother, but Crouse didn't understand the need to become someone else, even for a short time. He was just fine like he was.

He pushed the thoughts of his brother out of his mind as he approached Alpha Platoon's tent. Gunnery Sergeant Grantley, Alpha's platoon sergeant, was there, as if he knew that Crouse was coming. The younger man would never know how the old veteran did that, but for the moment, he was glad.

"Gunny, will you assemble the men, please," Crouse knew, of course, that as an officer, he could simply order Grantley to do it, and Grantley would obey, but he discovered very early in his career that courtesy and respect are equal partners.

"Aye, aye, Sir," came the gunny's immediate response. Crouse liked and respected Grantley, he was the kind of Marine that they talk about at recruitment centers. Honest, trustworthy, strong-willed, intelligent, experienced; the very embodiment of semper fidelis, the Corps's motto. Always faithful; yes that was certainly a fine way to describe Gunny Grantley in a few words. The men of Alpha Platoon were assembled in short order. Grantley formed them into line, and reported to Crouse.

"Alpha Platoon all present, sir," Grantley saluted and took his place at the head of the formation.

"Gentlemen," began Crouse, "our orders are to head towards the city for advanced recon." There were murmurs among the men, they had already been informed that the city was off-limits. "Now before you get all antsy, these orders come from Major Rickan. He wants us to set up a recon station outside the city, and report what is going on. I know that you've been told that New York is off-limits, and that we are not seeking any military presence in the city proper. This is still the case. We are not entering the city."

A round of questions followed, the men wanted to know what the mission was about. Crouse told them whet he knew, that it was strictly recon, and that they were not to engage any hostiles that they may encounter. They were, however, authorized to defend themselves if necessary. When the men were satisfied of the particulars of the mission, Crouse ordered them to grab their gear and weapons and report to the parade grounds for transportation to their recon site.

The trip from temporary Marine HQ just outside of Albany was uneventful. Crouse could see as they got closer and closer to the New York City, that the land and dwellings had become more and more empty. When they reached the city outskirts, the men set up a temporary camp with a defensible perimeter, while Crouse and Grantley began to organize the scouting parties that would eventually penetrate the city limits to observe what was going on with the people that were heading into the city.

---

"Command, this is Recon Charlie, Mayday! We're under attack, require assistance, over!" Sgt. White's voice came over the radio, out of breath, and sounding urgent. "Unknown assailants, hand to hand. Weapons are having little effect. Get that flame th..."

"Recon Charlie, this is Recon Actual, are you alright?" Crouse radioed back. "Fall back to R/V point Bravo, and report. Over." Grantley and Crouse exchanged knowing glances, they knew that this was no longer a recon mission.

"Actual, Charlie. We are cut off from the R/V point. No casualties at this time, we are having success with the flame thrower, but we've only got one, and it's nearly depleted. I have my men setting up claymores for when the fire goes out. Over."

"Charlie, Actual. Sit tight, help is on the way," Dammit! How the hell was he going to explain an armed skirmish for what was supposed to be a standard recon op.

"I'll send Staff-Sergeant Barnes to go in after him with Bravo, sir," said Grantley.

"No, Gunny, I want you to take both Alpha and Bravo," Crouse said, "I want them back alive. Clear?"

"Aye, aye, sir," Grantley snapped to attention and saluted. he turned to leave the command tent, but suddenly turned and fixed Crouse with a stern gaze, "Remember your orders, sir, radio silence," he said these last words clearly and slowly, then he turned and ducked out of the tent.

Crouse could hear the gunny shouting orders, and getting the men ready for a rescue mission. Crouse would do the same with the rest of the men once Grantley was on the move, ready to spring in at a moment's notice if the gunny and his group also got into trouble. What was that about radio silence, though? Crouse knew the orders as well as Grantley, and the older man knew it. So why did Grantley feel the need to remind him of those orders.

-- Story continues in my next post --


Weapons: MP-40 9mm sub-machine gun, 9mm automatic pistol, bowie knife, garrote wire, Expert in Tae Kwon Do

Gang name: A-Coy
Description: Former military unit, they seek out what they consider to be injustice and make it "right." Usually the word "right" can be substituted with the word "dead."
Common Weapons: Military rifles, Anti-personnel mines, smoke grenades, Frag grenades
Hang Out: Ground Zero Memorial

[Natewolfman]

Name: Troy
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Appearance: 6'0", about 180lbs, long black hair with red streaks about two inches long. As you look at troy you get the impression of a young energetic punk, his left eyebrow is double pierced, his tongue, lip, and multiple times on each ear are also laced with metal, a large tattoo covers the left side of his face as well as his right arm being completely covered. But even so his body is toned, normally seen wearing a black hoodie and loose fitting jeans.
Personality: The 'wiz kid' of the group, Troy is the youngest and smartest member, though he is not much of a close range fighter the young boy prefers to use his wits to get out of conflict rather then take them head on.
Description: Troy grew up in Kansas City, given Christian ideals and mid-western attitude from birth. However at the age of 12 everything changed his parents were murdered completely backfiring all the ideals he held, and his heightened intelligence (even at that age) over sensitized him backfiring all he had come to believe. I his high school years Troy fell into the punk rocker group, colouring his hair, piercings, tattoos, sex, drugs, and his junior year he dropped out. At the age of 17 everything changed, the outbreaks happened in NYC, and that’s when he met Joel, a street punk from NYC who had escaped before the major outbreak. Joel became there leader, along with Greg, Dan, Kim, and Sam(Samantha) all KC kids following a NYC rocker back to the lost city. Eventually they made there way into the quarantine, with Joel leading the group, and troy as second in command they took what they want when they wanted. As the weeks went by however more and more rivals started appearing, more gangs wanting there own piece, but they wouldn’t stand for it.
Weapons: Two hand guns, and a long hunting knife

Gang name:
Description: A small gang compared to most, only with the 6 members, they take what they want, and take down anyone who gets in there way
Common Weapons: Mostly handguns and shotguns left behind the police station, with some small blades mixed in.
Hang Out: Abandoned Police Station

[animorpherv1]

Name: Eric

Age: 25

Sex: Male

Apperance: Eric is 6"3, and 358 lbs. Always been like this. Even when he was small, he seemed to be chunky. He wears tight fitting clothes, since he is in denial about how fat he is.
Personality: A joker, always the wildcard. Seems to get there just in time to finish off the job. Seems to get credit for almost everything he participates in.

Description: Eric was born in Mexico. When he was in his 20's, he moved to New York, for a change of lifestyle. Unkown to him, he found out that Fast food was addicting. He ate his way up to 358 lbs. Eric found out tht he was gay a year later. He found himself attracted to men with a bulge. He loved the attention he was getting.

Weapons: Known for using smaller handheld weapons, sometimes carries bigger things around, but rarely.

Gang name: BAH!!!!!

Description: Get the job done, and get it done NOW!

Common Weapons: Mostly guns, the big kind you find on top of a car.

Hang Out: Laundromat

Where to begin, where to begin: His mansion, in the kitchen.

[Mr. Squirrel]

Name: Matthew
Age: 19
Sex: Male
Appearance: 6'0" 125lbs. Despite all attempts to grow stronger, he has always been thin and frail. His skin is very pale and his hair is a golden blond. He always wears a full-length white trench coat and a golden cross hangs on his neck. His most remarkable feature, or so he is told, is his deep emerald green eyes.
Personality: Having been the son of a pastor, he holds true to his father's strong Christian ideals. He is generous and always willing to help a friend in need. In spite of this and his weak appearance he has always been a strong leader with great foresight and wisdom that surpasses his young age. Although he loathes violence he recognizes the need for weapons for self-defense.
Description: Matthew was born into a large family in NYC before the plague began. He was the youngest of four brothers. His other three brothers, Mark, John, and James, unlike him, are all very athletic and held positions on their high school's football team. Matthew's frailness forced him to rely on his brothers for protection. When the firsts signs of the plague arose in NY, their father sent them away, fearing the worst. Their father, being the pastor of a Methodist church in NY stayed behind to "tend the flock", as he put it. Upon hearing that all in NY were dead, the four brothers didn't believe it and were determined to return to the city to find their lost father. Upon returning, they found a letter from their father in the abandoned church where he preached. It read:

To my poor abandoned sons,
If you find this letter, I have probably been killed. The disease has already infected my body and I write this with what may be the last of my mortal strength. I am hoping and praying that the doctors may find a cure before all is lost. Each day my congregation grows smaller and smaller. I fear that the Lord might be punishing us for some unknown crime.

Unfortunately, I have one last request of you, my poor sons. I have seen bodies wandering the streets at night. Bodies of deceased members of my own congregation. They are possessed and hunt the living at night. I fear for their eternal souls and it is because of this that I give you a mission. I want you to free these souls. I would myself if I had the strength. You will find hidden in the basement of the church all the weapons you need to mount a resistance and enough provisions to last years. Please, free these souls from their demon possessors so that they may join their father in heaven. May God grant his blessing on you and your mission.

Sincerely, Father

P.S. The cross included in this envelope is for Matthew. It shall keep you safe and will remind you that your strength comes not from your own body but from the Lord.

Ever since reading the letter, the four brothers have done their best to carry out their father's dying request, to rid NY of the zombies and free the souls that he believed were trapped within. They have converted some of the young men from the other gangs, and bolstered their own with these young converts.

Weapons: Matthew carries around a semi-automatic handgun and a small knife that he made by sharpening the bottom of a large iron cross.

Gang name: The New Disciples
Description: Matthew leads this group of ten as they strive to kill as many of the zombies as possible. They are always accepting of new members and are very peaceful and hospitable towards other gangs on the street. Any zombies they kill, they always bury in the graveyard outside their hideout, but only after they give each body a proper funeral ceremony.
Common Weapons: Although Matthew's father left them quite an arsenal of weapons, (where he got them they still don't know) The New Disciples prefer be as humane as possible in the freeing of the zombies. This means they do not use explosives, poison, or flamethrowers to kill, but instead prefer to use guns that fire standard bullets.
Hang Out: First United Methodist Church of NYC

[Kotaro]

Ahh, much to do. First off, I forgot to mention this part: This is New York in the future after a destructive and violent plague. As such, the entire city is unmapped, so you don't have to be exact. Make stuff up as you go; or, as I keep mentioning, be creative.

saraith, your post is kind of small, and you haven't chosen a weapon. If you could add a little more, that'd be great.

animorpherv1, same with you, minus the weapon bit.

Natewolfman, excellent. Same goes to you Mr. Squirrel. Both definitely in.

[saraith]

saraith, your post is kind of small, and you haven't chosen a weapon. If you could add a little more, that'd be great.

fear not, my friend... I have a 2-3 page short story in my head about him, but I am a very slow typist, and I have to do this from work. So it may take a while, please bear with me.

A Soldier's Burden, part 2

Crouse wasted no time in getting the remainder of the men ready for a fight. A quick head count tallied 12 in reserve, plus himself. That meant that there were 32 in the field. Many of whom were seasoned combat veterans. Nothing to do now but wait for the call.

It came. "OH MY GOD, WHAT THE..." Then static. It was time to act.

"Renelli, keep your ears on that radio! Let's move people!" Crouse ran towards the last known position of Recon Charlie. If things went wrong, standing orders were to regroup at rendezvous point Bravo, which was on the way, and by the sounds, things had gone horribly wrong.

They reached R/V point Bravo in short order, when they got there Crouse nearly wretched up his lunch. There were wounded and dead all over the place, at least 15, maybe more. He found Sgt White, and ordered him to report.

"Sir, you're never gonna believe this, but when Gunny got here with Alpha and Bravo, he charged right into the middle of those freakin' things. They licked him, I mean LICKED him, like a dog would, and then he... changed," Sgt White said.

"What do you mean, changed?"

"I don't know for sure, sir, but his last orders to me and Barnes when he charged in there were to get our men out of there. We managed to get out in one piece, sir, but as you can see, they've been hitting us ever since. They pick off the guys walking perimeter, and toss them into this clearing. Barnes was the first to go, sir." Crouse could tell that Sgt White was very shaken by this. This is the type of tactic that he and Grantley talked about for covert elimination of a superior force. Grab the sentries, toss them into camp to demoralize and confuse the enemy. It was certainly working here, wasn't it. But he didn't have time to think about it.

"They're coning!" shouted a sentry, "Gunny's leading them!"

Crouse and White looked at each other, "Gunny?" they said in unison. "I don't understand, sir," said White.

"I think I'm beginning to, Sergeant." Crouse contemplated the situation. Ever since Major Rickan was assigned to command his battalion, Grantley had been acting strange, Not out of the ordinary, but it was a feeling that Crouse couldn't quite put a finger on.

"You're starting to figure it out, aren't you Lieutenant," came a raspy, gravelly verion of Grantley's voice over the radio. "The major always said you were a smart one. That's why he sent me to you, and you to this place. You see, I've been infected for quite some time, now. The major saw to that. Awakened, is more like it! The power! It's more than I could have imagined! It's nearly as powerful as the major's hatred for you, you arrogant prick!"

"Just let us get out of here, Gunny. That's an order!" Crouse didn't think that it would work, but anything was worth a shot. Besides, he needed time to think of a real way out of this.

"You can't order me around any more, sir," the word 'sir' was dripping with sarcasm and disdain. "but I'll tell you what I will do. You and me. Alone, unarmed. You beat me, my new friends here will leave you alone, for now. I won't tell you what will happen if I beat you."

Did he have a choice? Really? Was Rickan so jealous that he would infect someone with this plague, whatever it was, and send him out here, just to get Crouse out of the way? Maybe that was it, maybe Crouse was getting too close to something he shouldn't. "Alright, Gunny," he said on the radio, "I'm coming out."

"Sir, I don't think," started White.

"Sergeant, we need to get out of here, and this is the best chance. Your orders are to get out of here, and back to the command tent ASAP. I want a man on that ridge," he pointed to a hill to his left, "watching the gunny, and feeding me info on how to how to kill the bastard."

"Wilco, sir, but do you really think you can beat him?" White said, "I mean, no offense lieutenant, but you weren't exactly a match for Gunny Grantley when he was normal."

"I can hold my own. You have your orders." Crouse didn't wait for any further objections, didn't even wait for White to acknowledge him. He dropped his rifle, set his radio to recieve, and placed an earplug on his left ear. He then hid his 9mm pistol in his boot, and set off out of the clearing that had served as a defense perimeter, and out to meet Grantley, or whatever monster Grantley had become.

When they got close enough to speak to one another, Grantley said, "Unarmed, Hmph! Not so bright after all, eh, Crouse? You can't kill me, you know."

"Is that so. I think that we're just going to have to test that claim." And with that, Crouse launched at Grantley, jabbing with a flurry of punches and kicks. Grantley had forgottn none of his skill, apparently, and was parrying, and counter-attacking with punches and licks of his own. This went on for a couple of minutes, neither combatant landing any serious blows.

"Sir," came a whisper in his left ear. White, damn him, he was supposed to be evacuating the men, "he's protecting his head a lot more than the rest of his body. I think that you should try to hit him there, if you can."

White was right, Grantley was favoring his head. If only he could get an opening. He ducked a roundhouse kick, and came up swinging, catching Grantley in the chest. It wasn't a heavy blow, but it was just the momentum he needed. He spun around Grantley, ready to launch a kick of his own, aiming for the back of the gunny's head, but the improved Grantley was too fast for him, and caught him squarely in the jaw. Crouse was anticipating this move, however, and rolled with the blow so that it didn't hurt that much. But he over exaggerated the recoil, and flung himself to the ground, facing, away from Grantley, and landed so that his right hand, his weapon hand, was close to his left leg.

Grantley advanced on him, just as Crouse pulled his pistol out of his boot, and as Grantley was bending down to punch him, Crouse aimed at Grantley's head and pulled the trigger until the pistol's magazine was empty. Grantley clutched his head for a moment, then slumped over, lifeless. Crouse got up, reloaded his pistol, and stood over Grantley. When he was satisfied that the monster was not getting back up, Crouse relaxed, and started back for the clearing.

Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind. A searing pain ripped the left side of Crouse's face, as Grantley tore a sharp piece of glass across it, slicing open the cheek from the lip to the eye.

Then all was dark.

----

Lt. Crouse woke up a few hours later and found Corporal Renelli hovering over him, tending to his wounds. As his vision cleared, he discovered that it had been altered, there was no longer any left side peripheral. He reached up to his face and felt the bandage there. There was no pain, Renelli must have numbed it with painkiller gel.

"Did we get him, Corporal?" he asked the medic.

"Yes, sir, we got him. It took 2 full clips of MP-40 rounds, but he went down." said Renelli

"Are you sure? I emptied my 9-mil into his head and he still managed to give me this," he tried to motion to his face with his left hand, but that must have been numbed, too. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"We set up a field of Claymores a few hundred meters from, here, sir, Gunny's in the middle of the field. If he comes back to life, it won't be for long."

"Very well Corporal." Crouse looked around, he could see that more than half his platoon were dead, others wounded, but alive. "What's the body count? How many are still able?"

"23 dead, 12 wounded, including yourself, sir. We have 9 on the ground, not including myself, walking perimeter. Sergeant White is in charge, sir."

--
Crouse has an epiphany... he sees it as his duty to cleanse this place, but maybe we'll save that for another story
--

"Looie? Looie?" Renelli was trying to get his attention, trying to bring him back from his dream. Looie. Yes, he liked that. Looie. That's who he'd be, here in this hell. Looie.

"Looie!" shouted the medic, "It's time to go back, sir."

"We're not going back, corporal."

Those were the last words of 1st Lieutenant Mitchell Crouse, USMC.

[Mr. Squirrel]

Natewolfman, excellent. Same goes to you Mr. Squirrel. Both definitely in.

Woohoo!

[Kotaro]

Jesus saraith, stop writing O.O I've got a lot to catch up on now.

animorpherv1, thank you for expanding. Accepted. saraith, I'd say the same for you, although I haven't read all of your yet.. I'll assume it's good.

Now, what we're waiting for: animorpherv1 saraith
A) Me to finish mine xD
B) Me to read through saraith's post
C) Me to start the other thread

So basicly.. It'll be a long day for me. *cracks open a monster* Alright, I'll be reading saraith's whole post as of now, and than writing my own afterwords.

THAN WE BEGIN.

[Kotaro]

The picture appears fuzzy at first, the voices muffled, but as the reception clears up, the images and voices begin to clearly feed through the monitor in front of them.

"This man was taken from the survivors of New York City. As you can see, this was our initial interrogation of him"

The picture reveals a middle age, blond male, around 5'7", tied to a chair. His eyes dart back and forth around the colorless walls of the room he sits in, and to the two other males pacing around the room, both wearing suits and having no distinguishable features. The man is near screaming at them, the two men standing near motionless as they question him again and again.

"As you can see, he was quite aggressive, and very uncooperative. However, during his autopsy, we discovered something very interesting."

The giant screen turns from the video feed to a series of medical panels, each displaying different strands of viral code and DNA.

"As you can see, he was naturally immune to the virus. However, he was still infected; a carrier of the plague, but not dead and blood thirsty like the rest."

The video switches back to the interrogation, where the man is howling at the two men.

"This part is interesting. The rest is nonsense, of course; no way what he says can be true. However, this part is about after the outbreak, when he first ventured back. How he got through our patrols, we'll never know, but this is a significant problem."

The camera zooms in on the main, allowing his voice to ring clear into the room.

"She was there, I swear it! Like a Demon! Hier eyes were glowing Red, and he was killing those people... those monsters... by the hundreds! She had some sort of hammer... SHE WAS THERE I TELL YOU! I AM NOT INSANE! She had green hair.. and she was short, and she was full of muscles! She told me something too.. What was it? She interrogated me.. she tortured me! She gave me these scars, see? Hey, why am I tied down... LET ME GO!"

He began screeching, a blood curling sound that caused even the two agents to wince. The man, his eyes suddenly inflamed, made a visible effort to break the metal shackles that held him to that chair. With a mighty groan, the first restraint broke, his wrist visibly broken in two. As he reached for the last other one, the two agents stepped forward, attempting to restrain him out of instinct. Too late, they discovered their mistake as they were both subdued by the mans one broken arm, as he lifted them both and slammed them to the ground, his blood covering them as it seemed to stream from the wound.

Shrieking in pain, the two agents began to convulse on the ground, as the man wrestled with his second, reinforced restraint

"At this point, the entire area was sealed. We had that section cleared out before he was brought in, for fear this might happen. Both agents were were ordered not to touch the man, no matter what happened, and to vacate the area if he began to get loose. A sad happening, indeed. We flooded the section with flammable gasses, and burned the area. The two agents did not turn quickly enough; they were dead instantly, their brains fried. However, the unidentified man... Well, watch the camera."

The video flips forward by exactly 5 minutes, to when the fire was well underway. The man stood in the center, a smile on his face, as the fires devoured his body. There were no screams, nothing coming from his mouth. However, his lips were moving...

The video flips off, the camera melting having melted due to the extreme heat.

"General, what was he saying?"

"We can only speculate at this point. However, we brought in the finest experts, and were able to possibly decipher what he said. That's why we called for you, Mr. President. There may be a huge security risk, if She is over there."

"Well General, what did he say?"

The General glances around the room, obviously uncomfortable. Sweat beads his forehead.

"Mr. President, he said... He said, "Sigmar be with You, Son of the Plague."

The President is visibly shocked, taking a step back as he says that. His eyes soon turn from shock to pure rage.

"I expect that he has entered the city. If he were to try and leave it, I want him dead. DEAD, DO YOU HEAR ME GENERAL? DEAD!"

The President storms from the room, slamming the door shut as he leaves. The General turns back to the screen, breathing a sigh of relief that he still has his job.

"So you've surfaced. You were my Pride and Joy; and my greatest mistake. Leave the city? I won't stop until you're dead, Alison..."

The man on the screen, still burning, turns to the camera. Shocked, the General jumps back, surprised. The man walks closer to the camera, ignoring the flames around him. He smiled as he stepped closer and closer to the camera.

"It's McAlison to you, General. And I'll see you soon, my dear, dear General."

The screen began to crackle, and soon the video had faded to a dull black. The General attempted to turn it back on, but to no avail. Removing the disc that the video had been on, he turned it over, only to find a scorch mark across it; the data had been erased.

"Soon it is than, McAlison.."

Throwing the disc to the floor, he turned and walked from the room.

Name: McAlison

Age: 27

Sex: Female

Appearance: Stands tallest at a height of 5'4". White, moderately attractive woman, she dresses mostly in robes and sandles, although she cna occassionally be seen wearing a tank top and blue jeans, with a pure black trench coat wide open. She has a light green, short hair, shaved down and than dyed. Her body is the lightest of whites, her eyes a shiny red. She has a few scars across her arms, and one that crosses her eyes, seemingly from an animal, but with the precision that only a machine could achieve.

History: Alison Rae was born in Madison, WI (Mods, not a real name of someone, to my knowledge). She lived an average life; attended College at the UW-Madison, as a psychology major. She was a true Christian at heart, taking in and believing the religion. On April 6th, 2008, her boyfriend of 7 years passed away. She became depressed, and soon forsake her God. She disappeared from the world.

2 years later, she reappeared, preaching about the new God, Sigmar, that took the place of the old God. She preached about the wars of the Gods, the new Gods, that had taken over heaven and now reigned supreme. There were many, many new Gods, and not many caught on to her new religion. However, as she traveled from town to town, bodies of Policemen and CIA agents seemed to appear, randomly, around her; she soon disappeared again. None of her family ever saw her again.

Personality: Free of her moral boundaries, McAlison was once a very caring individual, but now cares for little but herself and her God. She has a righteous, smug attitude, and believes that she is the only one in the World who knows the truth of Gods will and design. She enjoys doing whatever she wants, to get her own way, and believes that, if someone stands in her way, that they are controlled by another rival God, and therefore, their lives are forfeit.

Weapons: McAlison has been known to wield a Giant Hammer, much like in the medieval days by ancient Monks. When she feels like it, she stores two pistols within her trench coat, or somewhere else on her persons, just in case.

Followers name: Sigmars 6

Description: 6 well robed individuals, each carrying some sort of medieval, archaic weapon. Their brown robes hide their physical features, but it is said, that anyone who glimpses their eyes, is not long for this world; for the only time you see them, is before they come for your head.

Common Weapons: It is hypothesized that each one carries one of the following:

• Two short swords
• A long sword
• Two small Axes
• A maul
• A wooden staff, melded with steel
• A variety of Guns; machine guns, assault rifles, pistols, snipers, shotguns.

Hang Out: Why, a Church near Times Square, of course.

[Mr. Squirrel]

So the roster so far is:

a punk-rocker kid
a highly-trained military officer
a devout Christian
a fat, gay guy
and a Hammer wielding chick with a small cult following

This is gonna be interesting...

[Natewolfman]

So the roster so far is:

a punk-rocker kid
a highly-trained military officer
a devout Christian
a fat, gay guy
and a Hammer wielding chick with a small cult following

This is gonna be interesting...

agreed

Note: I have national guard over the next 5 days, so if this gets started in that time my posts are going to be minimal over this time, thanks

[JaseSpades]

Hope Im not too late...
Please bear with me, Im trying my best at something new.

James' life had been one tragedy after another, though he never felt sorry for himself, he still felt like he didn't deserve what he did have. As a "man" (as he considered himself since he was 12) 22 year old James "Spades" Spencer had never held a job, never had a house, a car, parents, or a "family". He raised himself and "drifted" between his friends' house (who he considered his family, as did they.


As he threw two 9mm's, a 44 magnum, a small caliber hunting rifle, a shovel, a baseball bat, and a potted tree into a small blue tarp, Dean walked in with a guitar slung around his back. Spades wipped his grimey hands on his sleeveless black and grey striped t-shirt and turned around to glare directly into Dean's eyes. With a little bit of surprise, he tried to cover the makeshift bag with his body. "Dude, youre not going after her are you? She told you to stay away..."

05/23/10
Dear James,
If you get this qoute, Im moving over to my Aunts house in NYC and havnt been able to tell you because Im in a hurry. You see, my Uncle is deathly sick and Im to take care of him. Please dont come after me, You have to learn to be independant.
I love You
K

This was the first time anyone had told him this, the last line that is.

"Im leaving D, doesnt matter what you say, shes not dead, and she needs me as much as I need her." Dean stared directly into Spades grey, determined, stubborn eyes. He never blinked.
"Ok, fine IM going with you. I still think you dont love her, you just feel like you owe her your life. She saved your how many times after all?"

On his 19th birthday, long time friend Kate had made his suicide atempt fail. Soon after they were more than friends with Spades ofte saying " I owe you my life" and Kate in short replying "how about your heart"

Dean started packing his military style bag full of weapons and neccesities."were bringer at least half of the gang and the entire bands coming with us" dean blurted abruptly. Spades slowely turned and looked at him."you knew i was going all along? You all knew, and now you guys are gonna risk your heads, just becasue im after some girl?" "what are friends for?"
"Well," Spades said while carvng a shape of a star onto his skin with his large hunting knife, "just so you know, Im calling the shots. And I say were taking the van and 5 bikes. Thats about 13 guys, minus you, Big Dan, me, Ed, and DEx theres room more for 8 other guys. Get them and three more bikes around. Make sure they bring some weapons, whatever they can scavange." Dean looked at him sternly."you dont beleive the myths do you? they closed off the city, but theres no such things as monsters James..." "no but there are people who would kill one of use for a little bit of money or drugs, those are the real monsters. Just do what I said man. No questions."

The small gang of 13 made their way into the city never seeing another living soul (nise choice of words)
They made a base of operations and would soon begin their search for their missing friend.

Name: James "Spades" Spencer (so dubbed becasue of the tat on his shoulder, that of an upside "spade" with a double clef within.
DOB: 4/1/90 (making him 22 on april fools')
Sex: M
Appearance: A Slender averaged height youth. He has the appearance of a homeless person, often dirty, having shoulder length unwashed black hair, ripped and tight clothing. He wears torn up shoes, skin tight pants with hand etched drawings and safety pins in them, and a no sleeved tshirt with prison stripped type black and brown-grey stripes. He is never seen without his trademark brim-beanie "Pin Hat" in which he keeps the pins of all his favorite bands. He has no other tattoos and a single clearly self administered peircing of his lip. His shoulder length black hair covers his rarely seen eyes.
Personality: A dark personality in which he depends on people, but will not ask for help. He has tried to commit suicide several times, although the motives to this is unknown to almost everyone. He is what some people may call "...a mixture between emo and punk...". His style in clothing, personality, and actions is taken from influential bands to him within the punkrock and metalcore genres.
Weapons: He carries a military style hunting knife, his beloved baseball bat, and two custom crafted double silver plated .45 semi-automatic acp pistols.

Gang: named after their band (which is increasingly poplular in MI, where they are from) "Suicide Notes and Butterfly Kisses" or Sno Buks (pronounced "SNOW BUCKS") for short, is essentially a biker gang that rides around on dirtbikes instead of choppers. They use crude weapons such as blunt objects and pistols. There are a few long range hunting rifles and shotguns mixed in though. They have currently set up their Base of operations at the old CBGB's building in Manhattan.



[OOC]Well, I hope thats good for a start, it all came off the top of my head and it still took about an hour and half.And it looks like my attempts to make an emotionally driven youth biker gang didnt turn out as i had hoped[OOC/]

[the.killing.44]

Name: Yuriy
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Appearance: Yuriy stands around 6'2", maybe 3". Being a product of the Russian military (see later), he is built to destroy. Strapping arms, rock abs — the whole deal. He is a touch over 200lbs, with blond hair and bright blue eyes that pop out the moment you see him.
Personality: Yuriy's personality has two sides — the first is his public persona which suits his appearance: a gruff, strict man who likes things straight, near perfect. However, when he is with his family he is as kind and caring as anyone. He is a family man who likes nothing better than playing with his kids at home in Russia.
Description: Yuriy was born in Novosibirsk, Russia, in 1980. He was very poor, and his childhood was not a particularly nice one. As an only child, he got the pros and cons of it — all the attention, yet all the responsibility. His mother died when he was 8 years old, and when he was 19 he joined the Army. He served for 8 years, leaving to get married. He was married in 2007 to his wife, Kirra, and has had 2 kids since: Yuriy II, age 4, and 'Vlad' (for Vladimiyr), age 2. They live in Ryazan, Russia — a small town in Eastern Russia.
Yuriy was visiting New York City when the plague broke out. Something happened in his hotel — no one knows, not even now. Guests started dying left and right. Yuriy tried as hard as anyone to get back to his home, but by that time they had shut down NYC and all routes out of it. Devastated, he decided to put his military knowledge to use killing the zombies left.
============================================================================
Weapons: Yuriy carries a hunting knife and a semi-automatic machine gun.
Gang Name: The Russki Eight
Description: Eight Russian survivers from around the city. Yuriy and one other have military experience, but the others are just learning.
Common Weapons: submachine guns, assault rifles, frag grenades, the usual military-issue stuff
Hangout: Five Guys Burgers: a small burger joint downtown with surviving guys. [OOC](It's a real place and I go there after school … amazing burgers)[/OOC]

Hope I'm not too late and this is enough! I can add more if necessary — I'd love to join.

.44

P.S. What has happened to my city!?

[Mr. Squirrel]

Great additions guys. I guess we can start the zombie slaying as soon as Natewolfman returns.

[saraith]

Zombies? Nobody said anything about Zombies!

** runs and hides **

[sam_levi_11]

Despite being an rp veteran, including a dynasty warriors period board global mod, im out atm until i have more time, then ill be in.
BTW, NOTE TO ALL R.P.ERS, check out http://www.freeforum101.com/tkrpg

Its a community of 35 or so active rp'ers, a bunch of hilarious guys, all having fun and rp'ing many different rp's like battle royale and dw. Just say Sam linked you. Even if you arent sure, just take your time, say hi, and see how it goes. I promise, you will enjoy it! Plus we are more relaxed than cc in our rules, we wont ban spammers, hell one of my co global mod is king spammer. They like to confused newcomers, so just ignore the gibberish if you make a "hello" type topic, which is preferable.

[Kotaro]

So the roster so far is:

a punk-rocker kid
a highly-trained military officer
a devout Christian
a fat, gay guy
and a Hammer wielding chick with a small cult following

This is gonna be interesting...

And now...
A ex-suicidal "teenager" (mentality)
A Crazy Ass Russian

Both in. We'll be starting soon. Nate will just have to catch up

Despite being an rp veteran, including a dynasty warriors period board global mod, im out atm until i have more time, then ill be in.

Its a community of 35 or so active rp'ers, a bunch of hilarious guys, all having fun and rp'ing many different rp's like battle royale and dw. Just say Sam linked you. Even if you arent sure, just take your time, say hi, and see how it goes. I promise, you will enjoy it! Plus we are more relaxed than cc in our rules, we wont ban spammers, hell one of my co global mod is king spammer. They like to confused newcomers, so just ignore the gibberish if you make a "hello" type topic, which is preferable.

Interesting. Don't post other links on these forums or troll my thread please

[sam_levi_11]

meh, just thought other like minded RP'ers might be interested.

[Kotaro]

That's well and good, but no advertising sites on this forum.

I'll be starting the RP soon, hopefully. Hang tight people.