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Post by cogs on Oct 4, 2009 20:59:06 GMT -6
E
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Post by Will on Oct 4, 2009 21:01:59 GMT -6
C. Maybe you'll be able to see the Chief on the monitors.
Also, you should include some of the RP characters, Roger. >_> Just my two cents.
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Post by Veta on Oct 4, 2009 21:08:41 GMT -6
C.
What Will said. At least as cameos. Disposable one-time cameos.
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Post by Tbone on Oct 4, 2009 22:00:45 GMT -6
Try asking him Will, just because Roger hasn't asked for character requests doesn't mean he's not taking them.
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Post by Roger Stone on Oct 5, 2009 14:21:21 GMT -6
(OoC: Yes, Will. I dun like to be ordered. Unless it's what she said. Then maybe.... Also, sorry that last update wasn't all that great. Now, as for this update, we're going to play a little game. Whoever can PM me the correct identities of the following cameos wins a prize. What is it? Well, you'll have to win and see, won't you? And no, it's not a "Congratz" or cookie point, it's an actual prize.) I'll just go watch the monitors. Maybe they can distract me for awhile. After another check for missed blood in the mirror, you make your way out of the washroom and towards the monitor room. Inside, you find Fran propped up on one fist mindlessly watching the wall of screens. You clear your throat. The fiery redhead jolts upright, startled. "Oh, Steve... Geez, sorry about that. I just get drawn in watching. It's a good way to avoid thinking about all this, ya know?" she spouts after settling back into her skin. "Yea... I was kinda coming here to do the same." Your heart is thumping in your chest, and in your mental eye you can just see Fran bolting to her feet and flinging an accusing finger in your direction. Stop it! She doesn't suspect a thing. You acting nervous will only make it worse."Ah, well alright. I'll leave you to it; I'm getting pretty hungry anyways," she says, standing and grabbing her shotgun. You think she may actually just be trying to avoid you,- or worse, to get the others to string you up- but dismiss it as pure paranoia. Fran slides past you out into the hall, and you catch a faint whiff of a fruity smell. You move over to the recently departed chair and take a seat. Its adjoining desk/workstation is littered with paper cups, the dregs of some slate-colored coffee gathered in the bottom of several. Sweeping the trash to the side, you prop your feet on the desk, and begin to watch the monitors. Zombies, Murdocks, and the occasional oddity fill your vision, blanking out thoughts of your dirty deed just as you hoped they would. =======
A lean man sporting a tight black muscle shirt darts into view of one camera, easily juking past the few singles in his path. His brown, slicked back hairdo stays resolutely perfect as he dodges. Shortly after he appears, a mob of zombies comes shambling into the shot after him. The man takes a quick glance behind him to watch a zombie he shoved past fall. He looks back forward and skids to a fast halt, eyes going wide. From the right side of the screen, a trickle of lavender needles flies towards him. He cuts to his left, heading for the building across the street, spines glancing off the pavement at his feet. He doesn't go for the door, or even launch himself through a window. Instead, he takes a powerful leap into the building's side, hands finding holds in the wall. He immediately starts making his way up like a champion parkourist. He's nearly gained the top when one of the needles unluckily finds it's mark, burrying itself into the side of the man's neck. His hand keeps groping upwards, searching for the next hold as though it doesn't even realize that there's a spike stuck into its owner's spine. Soon, he goes limp, and tumbles back to the ground. The pursuing zombies hurry forward. About twenty minutes later (and on another screen), a tan-skinned man comes running out of an alley, looking worriedly over his shoulder. He wears what was once a white smock, now stained red. In his hand is an overlarge magnum. It is this he brings up defiantly as he turns on his heel to confront whatever is chasing him. You see the hammer of the gun rise once, twice, but there's no telltale flash of gunfire. He looks at it puzzlingly for a moment before snapping back and trying a third shot with similar results. Now panicking, he cocks his arm back and chunks the pistol- if you could even call it that- into the approaching hoard before turning tail. In his rush, he slams right into another zed, who eagerly takes him to the ground. Before he's able to shake it off, the others are upon him. You force yourself to look away from the feast. Soon after, an explosion of movement shows up on another screen. Two people are in a massive fight. The first is abnormally tall and wears a hat that conceals his face from your eye-in-the-sky angle. His hands appear to be mismatched, and his feet are somewhat oddly sized. His opposition looks like a nondescript Joe Everyman, albeit a rather buff one with a fire axe gripped desperately in his clutches. The first fighter has no weapons, but appears to be not only holding his own, but nearly winning. All too quickly, the pair's mobile battle takes them off-camera, leaving you wondering who would come out the victor. A lone figure pokes his head from a barricaded store, the majority of his face covered by a gas mask. From what isn't, you see he's brown skinned. Not black, but almost middle eastern. Not exactly, but something similar. The man, seeing there's no infected gathered outside, waves back in before stepping out himself. He's dressed in full military gear. It's really marine uniform, but you don't recognize it further than 'military'. From the same doorway comes two more, more with like dress and skin tone. The first is roughly the same height, but the third is about a good head shorter. The first turns and says something to this one. Something harsh, judging by the third's cringe. From behind him steps a fourth, also dressed as a soldier. His skin, however, is quite clearly white. He stands tallest of the group, a solid could inches over the other two. All of them are armed with assault rifles. If you were to hazard a guess, you'd say M16s, but you're no firearms expert. The first one shoots another signal and then begins to make his way down the street and out of view. The other two of his kind follow him quickly and without question, as though they were used to it. The fourth, however, hesitates a moment before begrudgingly following the man's lead. Another person comes into view on another camera. This one, however, is fighting their way through, and quite clearly a woman. She moves expertly through the intersection, popping headshots with chilling precision, AK spitting out silent death. Her only pauses are to swipe stray strands of dark red hair from her face, and even those are for the briefest of seconds. In the space of half a minute, she's gone, and not one zed got closer than ten feet from her. A man in a trechcoat comes barreling into sight, a woman at his heels with a pistol at the ready. The woman is wearing a bullet proof vest, but the acronym across the front of it means nothing to you. She looks like she's been in the military, but you can't tell farther than that. The man leads them into an alleyway, the katana in his hand held in a death grip. From your angle, you can see a wire fence topped with razor wire blocking it halfway down, but the man either doesn't notice or doesn't care. It turns to be the former, as he tries to turn back halfway down, only to find the exit clogged with zombies. The woman shoots several times at the hoard, dropping a few. Soon, however, her clip runs dry, and she doesn't appear to have another. The couple are slowly backed to the fence as the undead approach. The man suddenly kneels, hands interlaced. He clearly means to try and boost the woman over the fence. She tries to argue for a moment, but soon she puts her foot onto the step. In an act of desperate strength, the man somehow manages to launch her up and over. Her foot catches on the razor wire, and she tumbles forward, landing awkwardly on her left arm. The man has turned to face his adversaries, katana shaking but poised to attack. The woman struggles to her feet, cradling her left arm and bleeding profusely from her right foot and shin. She plods down the alley, not looking back. The man manages to take out the first zed, but he clearly has no real clue how to handle the blade and succumbs to the second. The rest fall upon him ravenously. (OoC: There you go, let the games begin. Six sets of cameos and 11 answers. Whoever either A)Gets all of them right first, or B)Gets the most of them right, gets a prize. Note: This contest is completely optional, so don't bitch about it. Also: Sets 3 and 6 have two answers each, while Set 4 has four. Make sure to label your answers and put them in a PM.) =======
You pull yourself away from the wall of TVs having seen enough. Shaking your head to clear it, you check your watch, shocked to see it's drawing close to 8. You'd wasted about an hour watching the screens. Go look for Fran. You'd have thought she'd have returned by now. See if you can't strike up a conversation with Roy and Anya. They need to know they can trust you, or at least not be nervous. [C]Cynthia's probably awake by now, go see if you can't find her. [D]It's time to go hunt down the Chief, wherever he is. [E]You're really low on several supplies. Time to gather a team and head out to scavenge. [F]You're not all that tired anymore, but a bit of extra sleep can't hurt. Go find somewhere to curl up for awhile. [Z]CYOA
Current Time: Day 4. 7:54 AM
Status:==Active Party: Steve Ames: Bitten. You also feel stronger somehow... Hunger: 2% Equipment:-9mm Beretta (5/13) 0 spare clips -Empty 9mm clip -Transceiver
Cynthia Smith: Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Anya McNeil: Equipment: -Nothing
Alroy "Rat" McNeil: Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh
Fran Geller: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells -Sharpened Rapier
Samuel "Doc" Morten: Equipment: -None
==Other Party: Burt "The Chief" Williams: Status Unknown. Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 1 extra shell -Standard issue police Taser gun -Transceiver
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel Containing: Baseball bat. (Does anyone even check the status anymore? At least for Steve?)
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Post by Roger Stone on Oct 5, 2009 15:53:16 GMT -6
Format for answers to the Contest:
1) 2) 3A) 3B) 4A) 4B) 4C) 4D) 5) 6A) 6B)
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Post by Veta on Oct 5, 2009 16:44:00 GMT -6
f. Will Pm latar.
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Post by Will on Oct 5, 2009 17:11:12 GMT -6
B. You'll need their (or at least Roy's) help to find the Chief.
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Post by Tbone110 The Amurican Bastard on Oct 5, 2009 18:37:08 GMT -6
A
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Post by Song Nai on Oct 5, 2009 19:14:23 GMT -6
I change to B
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Post by Veta on Oct 5, 2009 20:23:19 GMT -6
A.
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Post by Roger Stone on Oct 5, 2009 20:57:34 GMT -6
Why is this an announcement? (Hopefully this post will fix it...)
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2009 15:29:24 GMT -6
A There I posted it!
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Post by Bastion on Oct 6, 2009 15:30:59 GMT -6
A
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Post by Roger Stone on Oct 9, 2009 22:28:18 GMT -6
You shake your head slightly in an attempt to clear the images that had sunken into it. Well, I may as well go try to find Fran. She shoulda been back by now. You get up from your chair and head for the door. Where's the Chief I wonder? We haven't heard from him at all... I mean, I've had the transceiver on me, but nothing. Heck, even if it had gone off while I was totally out of it, Cynthia would have gotten it..... Hope he's not hurt, or wor- You round the next corner, and something slams into you. Not expecting it, both you and your assailant go crashing to the ground. It's Anya, looking just as surprised as you are. You manage to scramble up to your feet first, and offer her a hand. She hesitates visibly for a moment before taking it. "Sorry about that. I was a bit lost in thought. Wasn't watching where I was going," you apologize, hauling her to her feet. "No, it's no problem... Part my fault too, right? Al does tell me I'm such a klutz," she says, grinning. Albeit not without a hint of nervousness. "So, uh.. where were you heading in such a hurry?" You aren't particularly wanting at peruse a conversation with Ann right this moment; only remind her that you're no monster. No monster! Your mind agrees enthusiastically before cackling laughter. Christ, not again! SHUT UP!! And, miracles never seem to cease, it actually does. "Oh, nowhere really. Just away from them..." She doesn't notice your momentary lapse in concentration, instead looking slightly annoyed. "Them?" "Roy and Fran. We were just finishing up our breakfast when she comes in. We had had fried eggs, and she saw it. So she started playing it off that she didn't even know they even had any! And then guilts Al into making some for her!.... I eventually just got fed up with him making googly-eyes at that vixen, and left..... I don't think Al even noticed," she finishes quietly, all the bluster of her previous rant draining out in the last sentence. "I'm sure it's nothing. Fran doesn't seem to be one to take advantage of people like that. Are you sure it wasn't just Roy being a gentleman?" You ask, not believing for a second it really happened as Anya just described. She doesn't answer immediately, looking downcast. "Come on, I was heading that way, and if you're not going anywhere, why don't you walk with me? Heck, if you don't wanna go in, you can just head your own way when you like." "Yea, alright, sure," she shrugs. She lets you lead the way down the hall. "So, your brother cooks?" you question, turning the conversation down a different path. She breaks into a knowing smile, one you'd give a young child that doesn't quite grasp a simple fact of life. "Ha... He can cook a sunny-side up like you've never tasted- and any other style too- but he can't do anything else. He'd manage to burn water trying to get it to boil!" she says with a shake of her head. "That's... odd." "You're telling me... Doesn't stop him from trying once in awhile though. It's like he forgets he's cursed with a limit to just eggs." She laughs suddenly. It's a clear and light sound. "I remember this one time... He got into his head to make me a cake for my birthday as a 'surprise'. So he makes the batter and whatnot, bakes it, and out it comes half an hour, hard as a rock. But does that stop him? Nope. He goes and decorates the thing with icing, covering it! Haha... Said he thought it might make up for it... So he puts it on the table and let's me try and cut it. Of course it doesn't work, and he starts to laughing his ass off, doubling over... And mom" She's laughing hard now, "An- And mom thinks he did it as a p-prank and," she stops again to catch her breath, still laughing like mad, "starts yelling and hitting him o-over the head with a n-new-newspaper!" She's got to stop and lean against the wall now, clutching her side from laughter. It's now you notice she's been crying as well. Any mirth you had had at her tale slips away quickly. Before you can say anything, she's gotten herself under control, and wipes her eyes clean. "Sorry, I guess you would've had to have been there..." She catches back up, apparently deciding to ignore her moment of weakness. You play along, and keep walking in silence. "Hey, the Caf is right up here, I think..." "Right, well, I guess I'll be going then... Bye. And thanks for saving me back at the gas station again," she says simply before walking past you and down the hall. "Sure,'' you call out before ducking into the actual cafeteria. ======= "- know, right?... Here, watch this." You watch as Roy takes a fork from the table in he's seated at, wipes it clean on his jeans, and then balances it vertically from the tip of his nose, leaning back. Fran tries to restrain a massive grin, and, failing that, makes an attempt to hide it behind a hand, giggling to herself. She finally gives him a small round of applause, if only to get him to stop. Roy takes the fork from his nose and gives a seated half-bow. You decide to make yourself known, moving forward towards the seated pair. "Hey guys, what's going on?" Roy, who had had his back to you, nearly jumps out of his seat. Fran is almost as startled; she had been too absorbed in conversation to take notice of you. "Oh! Steve... Hey. I was just- uh. Getting breakfast. Roy offered to cook me something, so how could I refuse?" Fran manages to get something out first. "I did no such thing. She had a shotgun and wanted some scrambled eggs! What would you have done?" Roy interjects, grinning cheekily. Fran just rolls her eyes at his remark, although her act is ruined my a small irrepressible smile. "Well, Anya's a bit upset with you, Roy... Just letting you know," you state, thinking Anya would probably want you to tip him off. "Huh?" Roy says, clearly puzzled for a moment. The next, however, he tenses up. "Wait, how the hell do you know?" There's an edge that screams 'Accusation' in his question that you don't like. "We bumped into each other in the hall, relax. She was pretty annoyed...." Roy looks ready to give you a none-too-relaxed retort when a familiar noise stops everyone in their tracks. Chirip!"'Ello? Anybody there?... I... I'm in a bit of a fix. There's... *CHOUGH*... Some kinda flying thangs." You quickly grab the radio from your belt. "Chief? It's Steve, where are you?" Chirip!"Just a couple blocks from the Center. Had almost made it back when these... things dived outta the sky... I think they're just circling around the buildin' we took cover in. Could use some help. I'm low on shells, and Vlad here ain't got any." Head there in the Bug. It sounds like he needs help, and fast. Unfortunately, you could only bring one other person if you plan on bringing the two back... Head out on foot. It's not too far, but you could all travel in a group. Saftey in numbers.. [C]Tell him to deal with it. He's on his own. [Z]CYOA
For A(Limit: 1) or B(No limit): 1. Fran. Her shotgun would come in handy. 2. Roy. He's clearly no pushover. Plus, he needs to learn he can trust you. 3.Cynthia. You'd rather not have her out of your sight if you could help it. 4. Anya. You've got a gut feeling to bring her. 5. Doc. From the sounds of it, Chief's in a tight spot; he might be hurt.
Status:==Active Party: Steve Ames: Bitten. Hunger: 3% Equipment:-9mm Beretta (5/13) 0 spare clips -Empty 9mm clip -Transceiver
Cynthia Smith: Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Anya McNeil: Equipment: -Nothing
Alroy "Rat" McNeil: Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh
Fran Geller: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells -Sharpened Rapier
Samuel "Doc" Morten: Equipment: -None
==Other Party: Burt "The Chief" Williams: Status Unknown. Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (3/8) 0 extra shells -Standard issue police Taser gun -Transceiver
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel Containing: Baseball bat.
Contest Answers:
1)Julius 2)Veta 3A)John 3B)Composite Zombie 4A)Tenoch 4B)Arzentecha (sp) 4C)Bradley 4D)Will 5)Nikita 6A)Roger 6B)Rachel
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Post by Will on Oct 9, 2009 22:57:48 GMT -6
B 1 and 3.
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Post by Veta on Oct 10, 2009 13:27:30 GMT -6
A 5.
Well, Z. Trade Fran your pistol for the shotgun too.
If unpossible, A1.
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Post by Ace on Oct 11, 2009 14:28:11 GMT -6
Never thought I'd say this, but I'll vote the same thing as Will.
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Post by Roger Stone on Oct 11, 2009 16:16:31 GMT -6
"Alright, Chief, where exactly?" Chirip! "Uh, not quite shure, son... Some kinda liquor store- jus' a second-" You hear two people talking, but can't make it out. "Vlad here says it's named 'Whiskers' or somethin'... Listen, those damned things er circlin' round over us like vultures. You could probably spot them from the Cent-" Suddenly, the sound of smashing glass comes though the speakers, followed by a shotgun blast. "-Aw, hell! Hurry!" The walkie goes silent. You clip it back to your belt and look to Fran. "You heard him; he's in some serious shit. Grab your shotty. I'll get Cynthia," you say, turning. Before you can get away, someone grabs your shoulder. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. I owe the Chief just as much as you do; I want in," demands Roy, makeshift club in hand. "We need you here, Roy. Doc and Anya wouldn't exactly be able to fend a hoard of zombies off if they attacked." Roy's eyes narrow slightly, but he releases you. "Yea, you're right. Just get him back here," he says. Then, to Fran, "And you be careful. I'd hate to meet and lose a friend in the same day." "Not planning on it, buddy. Come on, Steve. Let's get going." ====
"Huh? Wait, what's going on?" Cynthia asks sleepily, rubbing her eyes. As luck would have it, she comes shuffling out of her room as you and Fran came running up. "Come on, we'll explain as we go. Chief's in trouble," you state, grabbing her wrist and hurrying down the hall. The three of you make your way towards the normal exit, finding it still free of a blockade. There's no way we're going to last long being this sloppy. No time now, though.As you come through the door, you immediately spot the building in question. It's not all that far off, just as Chief said. You lead the way towards your destination, all too aware of the circle of creatures that are diving down towards it one by one. "We're not taking the car?" Cynthia asks in disbelief as you hurry past the Bug. "It's not too far. Besides, it's too late to change now; Roy's got the keys," you call back, hurrying onward. "Geez, how many of those things do you think there are?" questions Fran worriedly, having taken the extra shotgun shells from her pocket and counting them as she runs. "Seven... I can see seven," Cynthia pipes up after a split second, looking towards the things revolving overhead. "No telling how many have already landed though..." After a few minutes of jogging, the group finds itself in an alleyway close by the liquor store. The sounds of shrieking and struggle can be heard. Suddenly, a rather piercing cry rings out, and a blur slams into the pavement at the mouth of the alley ahead of the group. It's face is flat and long, almost shield-like. Beedy orbs of a cream color poke around it, pupil-less eyes watching it's prey. It's covered in scales, giving it a distinctly reptilian look. I'm having trouble naming this one. So send in your best, and you might win if I like it! Then, it leans back onto it's hind legs, unhinging it's mouth and revealing long lines of razor sharp teeth. It emits a high pitched scream, forcing the group to cover their ears on reflex. It lowers back down, head lowered. Suddenly, the beast launches itself forward, the membranes lining its arms unfurling. It flies towards you lightning quick, gliding over the ground. You go for your pistol, but never get a chance. Fran brings up the shotgun and lets loose, tearing off the thing's left wing. It careens into the wall, grinding against it before colliding with a dumpster. Amazingly, the thing tries to struggle back up, but before it can, you dart forward and curbstomp its head. It twitches and finally gives in, growing still. "What the hell are these things?" Fran asks breathlessly. She doesn't get an answer. You're the first one around the corner, pistol now in hand. The abominations are crawling all over the front of a store- Spec's Fine Spirits-, its window broken in. They occasionally give a shrill caw, and nip at each other, but don't go near the window. None of them seem to want to be the first one to enter. "Well, that's more than seven," breathes Fran, dismayed at the number. "I don't think I've even got enough shells..." "Twenty-four... Including the ones on the roof. Seventeen out front..." Cynthia whispers, clearly unnerved. "Well, what now?" Charge in, screaming at the top of your lungs. Maybe they'll get scared off. Advance carefully, first calling out to the people inside to do the same. Between Fran's shotgun, your pistol, and whoever's inside, you should be able to take them all. [C]You can't fight this many; you need a distraction. Have someone draw them off while the people inside get out of the corner they've been backed into. [D]Try and circle around back of the store. Maybe there's a back entrance you can sneak into... [E]Stay back, and take potshots at them. Once you've gotten their attention, you can dart into the alleyways and try to lose them. Radio the Chief ahead of time to tell him what you're going to do so they can make their escape. [F]Try and contact the Other. You've got a feeling it may be the only way out of this mess. [G]There's too many. Pull back to the civic center; the situation is hopeless. [Z]CYOA
For C, who's the distraction? 1.Yourself 2.Cynthia 3.Fran
Current Time: Day 4. 8:23 AM
Status:==Active Party: Steve Ames: Bitten. Hunger: 7% Equipment:-9mm Beretta (5/13) 0 spare clips -Empty 9mm clip -Transceiver
Cynthia Smith: Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Anya McNeil: Equipment: -Nothing
Alroy "Rat" McNeil: Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh
Fran Geller: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (7/8) 9 extra shells -Sharpened Rapier
Samuel "Doc" Morten: Equipment: -None
==Other Party: Burt "The Chief" Williams: Status Unknown. Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (1/8) 0 extra shells -Standard issue police Taser gun -Transceiver
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel Containing: Baseball bat.
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Post by AceTheMercenary on Oct 11, 2009 16:27:01 GMT -6
I feel like taking a chance.
A.
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Post by cogs on Oct 11, 2009 17:11:23 GMT -6
C 3
Cogs said he'd change to B.
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Post by Will on Oct 11, 2009 17:55:25 GMT -6
B.
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Post by Song Nai on Oct 11, 2009 19:44:01 GMT -6
B
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Post by Veta on Oct 11, 2009 22:33:35 GMT -6
A.
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Post by Roger Stone on Oct 12, 2009 17:33:23 GMT -6
(OoC: So no one has an idea of a name for these things? Leave it to me and it'll be lame.... Like Batlizards. T_T) You reach for the walkie. "Chief? Can you hear me? We're just outside, and there's like twenty-" "Seventeen," Cynthia interjects quietly. "-of the suckers out front. You said you've got a buddy in there with you, right? Well I think that if both our groups move forward in sync, we can take them. Alright?" You let go of the button, hoping they heard your whispered plan well enough. Chirip!(The group cringes at the noise, thinking it will doubtlessly attract attention they don't want yet. The creatures, however, don't react.)"Ok, son. Jus' give us the signal." In the background you can hear someone give a hearty chuckle. "Steve? Maybe we should try and get as close as we can before giving the others the go ahead. The Chief and my shotguns won't do much good if the things are too far off", Fran suggests, fingering her weapon nervously. "Right, that sounds good," you say, and then, to the radio, "Chief? You and your man come blazing out when you hear the first of our shots go off. If things go to shit, we can always just retreat back into there." "Ten-four, kiddo. Jus' be care-..." He pauses for a moment "Jus' give 'em hell." You smirk and clip the yellow transceiver back to your belt. "Ok. Fran? You should probably take point." "Right. Just stick close." She takes the lead, shotgun leveled. All signs of anxiety have disappeared, revealing a streak of steel underneath. The group advances fast and quiet, making it about halfway there before the creatures take notice of you. Most of them just hiss at you, holding their ground. A couple, however, leap forward into a glide to attack. Fran slaps then out of the air with two shots, sending them crashing to the ground, tumbling head over claw. Almost immediately, a bear of a man comes diving out of the busted window, slamming into one of the beasts crouched outside. The giant and his target go rolling out into the street. After a brief struggle, a dry snap is heard over the din of battle, and he tosses the carcass aside like a rag doll. "STEVE!!" The sound of Cynthia's cry jerks you away from watching the burly brawler. Several more of the unlucky original pair's pals have decided to make their move, and one manages to get past Fran, its sights set on you. By reflex, you jerk your pistol up and squeeze off a couple of shots, both going wide. At the last second, you dive to the side, dragging Cynthia down with you by the collar of her shirt. The thing zips close enough over you for you to get a whiff of it's stench before it pulls up into the air, joining it's brethren's circle. Most of the creatures almost instantly took flight to the sky when you attacked, and now circle above you. The ones that had been bold enough to stick around now lie dead. "I got three! You guys alright?" Fran calls, looking warily towards to sky. Including the one that man got, that means there's still at least twenty of the fuckers up there..."Yea, fine! But we'd best get the heck outta dodge," Chief suggests, stepping out of the building holding his shotgun by the barrel as a club. "Da. They'll be making courage for another strike, aye." This comes from the giant you spotted from earlier. He speaks with the slightest of Russian accent, although looks distinctly Italian. "Name's Vladimir Zergovich. I thank you for the help," he introduces, extending his hand to Fran. She just looks at it dubiously. "It's no problem, Vladimir, but perhaps now isn't the time for introductions," she states, looking pointedly towards the swarm in the sky. "Da, of course. Some other time." "Guys, I hate to break in, but we need to do something right now," you butt in, not caring to continue pressing the group's luck with any more idle chat. "He's right. Let's get back into the alleyways and try and head back for the center while we can," Fran states, taking the lead naturally. She seems primed to go, just waiting for someone to give signs of being willing to follow. She's clearly used to being in charge. What she's suggesting is probably a good idea, but if I cave now she may assume she's the head honcho. It might actually be better to try and show her who's running this show now...You're probably just being paranoid. Follow Fran into the alleyways and try to make it back to the center before those freaks fully get their act together. Suggest taking shelter back in the liquor store. They could attack at any moment, and it'd be best to not get caught in the open. [C]Advise the group spit up to divide their attackers. [D]Screw running. You can take these things. Stand and fight. [E]Try and convince someone to attempt to lead the things away so the others can escape easily. [Z]CYOA
For E, who's the distraction? 1.Yourself 2.Cynthia 3.Fran 4.Chief 5.Vlad
Current Time: Day 4. 8:27 AM
Status:==Active Party: Steve Ames: Bitten. Hunger: 10% Equipment:-9mm Beretta (3/13) 0 spare clips -Empty 9mm clip -Transceiver
Cynthia Smith: Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Fran Geller: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (7/8) 9 extra shells -Sharpened Rapier
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (0/8) 0 extra shells -Standard issue police Taser gun -Transceiver
Vladimir Zergovich Equipment: -Nothing
==Other Party: Samuel "Doc" Morten: Equipment: -Nothing
Anya McNeil: Equipment: -Nothing
Alroy "Rat" McNeil: Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh ==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel Containing: Baseball bat.
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Post by Song Nai on Oct 12, 2009 17:37:29 GMT -6
A
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Post by Veta on Oct 12, 2009 18:12:20 GMT -6
Somewhat a cross between B and Z.
I'm suggesting that they use the liquor store to their advantage and light them on fire using Chief's Taser Gun. It'll be an ideal fighting condition.
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Post by Roger Stone on Oct 12, 2009 18:44:47 GMT -6
...
Lighting the place you're taking shelter in.... On fire. Did I get that part right?
Oh god I hope not... T_T
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Post by Veta on Oct 12, 2009 18:47:45 GMT -6
Outside it and near the entrance. Later you can escape or something.
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Post by Tbone on Oct 13, 2009 2:40:17 GMT -6
B
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