Event Log: Dead Men Walking

[hadrielmods]

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Dead Men Walking event!
Where: All around the city
When: September 14th-September 20th
Warnings: Zombies. Walkers. The Infected. Zeds. The undead. Risen.

Everything seems more or less normal in Hadriel on the 14th - at least at first. But wait, who's that over there? Why are they walking so weird? Are they feeling okay? Wow, did they just try to bite you? Oh shit, you might've seen a movie like this before. That was definitely a zombie.

But hey, it's no big deal. A few zombies here and there are pretty easy to avoid, especially when you can outrun them without too much trouble. They're only really dangerous if they're fast or if there are a lot of them, and they sure aren't fast! Only - well, before long, there are a lot of them. You can hardly go outside without running into one, and mobs form quickly. Went out for supplies? Let's hope they didn't follow you - you might get stuck in that shop, mobile corpses pounding on the door. Oh, and don't stand too close to the windows of your house. They'll be more than happy to smash the glass trying to get you.

Don't worry, though! A hard blow to the head will take these zombies out, and you'll be sitting pretty, as long as none of them bite you. None of them bit you... right? Wow, what a relief. We're all glad you're not concealing a life-threatening zombie bite from your friends! Who would do that, anyway? Now if you can manage that until the 20th, you'll be safe and sound as the zombies shamble out of the city. Hopefully you won't be shambling with them.

► This log covers September 14th-September 20th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you join the zombie party, please let us know here!

Comments

sans | ota, will match format

[skelebro]

city streets;

[Emotions are complex and difficult enough for him to process without having additional spanners thrown into the mix, thanks. Sans is just now adjusting to the fact that he cares about certain people and doesn't want them to die or worse, and he does not need extra weight on top of everything else.

Extra weight such as running for his goddamn life, for instance. We're being purely hypothetical here, of course. Sans does not run. He occasionally calls people to ask if their refrigerator or their nose is running, but the monster himself is about as action-averse as one can possibly be.

So what he is doing, instead, is walking. Walking in a zig-zagging pattern and very fixedly not looking at the shambling mass of things behind him that are rapidly gaining ground. Watch closely, now - if you blink, you might find that he's abruptly several meters ahead of the horde that was surely about to chomp down on his femur a half-second ago.

Either way, he's starting to look a little worn to the bone, if the sweat starting to run down his skull is any indication. A guy can only keep up this cat-and-mouse routine for so long before it gets unsustainable, and Sans is fast approaching his limit.]

shop, empty building, spire, etc.;

At some point, or maybe several points, he makes it to a spot that's not under immediate threat of being caved in by a mass of dead flesh and hungry chompers. And by "makes it," I definitely mean that he just kind of shows up without any sort of warning, simply popping into existence and nearly collapsing from the strain of it. Alll the shortcutting and half-measuring he's been doing since this shebang began has finally started to catch up to him, weariness creeping up his shinbones and sinking in marrow-deep.

"Just, uh," he says, oddly breathless for a monster that pretty acutely lacks lungs, "just gimme a minute, yeah? Pretty - pretty bone tired, heh."

He braces a hand against the nearest surface and/or person in the vicinity, the other draped across his patella as he tries not to double over.

shop~

[strangelic]

[ There was really no effort made to push Sans away, when he leant against him. It was odd to have his space invaded that way, by a stranger, and yet Cas didn't resist it, instead simply concerned about Sans, tilting his head to look down at him.

And to his credit, the spontaneous appearance hadn't so much as made him bat an eyelash, either. Not surprising, considering it was in his own skillset. ]

Are you...okay?

Firo Prochainezo | ota, any format

[foundafamily]

[A. September 14-15]

The monsters here are pretty different from the thugs and gangsters Firo’s used to scrapping with back home. They’re less predictable, less provoked by trash talk, and sometimes they have better weapons. Over time, he’s learned how to deal with a lot of them.

Any random passerby could probably tell right away, though, that he doesn’t have a damn clue about how to fight a zombie.

He’s squaring off with one on one of the sidestreets. Firo socks it in the face dangerously close to its mouth. He narrowly avoids its teeth grazing his knuckles, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His foot slams into its rotten leg, and, as it falls, he kicks it in the head. That seems to slow it down, but its mouth is still snapping at the air.

He nudges the fallen zombie with the toe of his shoe. “The hell is this thing?”

[B. Any time, anywhere]

As he tends to do in times of great weirdness, Firo's making a circuit of the town to look for his friends. The bar and the armory are his first stops, and then he continues on to the temples. He hasn't yet bothered to get rid of the zombie goop on his hands and clothes, but he'll enthusiastically greet anyone he recognizes.

B: 16th-ish

[infinite1up]

Rounding a corner, there's definitely one recognizable smiling face out and about. Sato is in the middle of being mobbed by a handful of zombies and, as far as anyone can tell from his expression... seems to be genuinely enjoying himself. He kicks one back, but as he turns to bury the machete in the next one's head, a third lunges for him and sinks its teeth into his upper arm, while another that he'd kicked down earlier grabs a leg and starts tearing at a pant leg, eager to rip into flesh.

Catching sight of the movement out of the corner of his eye, he turns his head long enough to see how many more he's picked up and... oh. It's just Firo.

Unfortunately, with a couple of them still latched on he really doesn't have hand free to wave. "Good afternoon!" he calls out happily, starting to hack at the one on his arm.

Ken Kaneki | cw; cannibalism

[anthropophagite]

1. Running from zombies
[ kaneki knows what zombies are, if only because they are very popular in the media. Movies, TV series, books, manga, anime - he isn't a fan, but he knows about them. But he really didn't expect to ever see them beyond the media; to actually face one is very different.

Mostly because Kaneki didn't believe they were zombies at first, naturally. Sick people, maybe? Which he worries about at first, as he sees one stumbling about ]

Are you alri-

[ Kaneki doesn't have the time to finish, the man? Thing? Suddenly jumps on Kaneki, trying to bite his shoulder and he is hit with a sense of deja-vú. But at least he is a lot more capable than the last time someone tried to take a bite out of him: he swiftly moves and elbows the zombie in the gut, which is more than enough to push it away, and after Kaneki just.... runs.

What was that, whats was that, WHAT WAS THAT???? ]


2. Eating zombies ATT: CANNIBALISM and GORE
[ The first couple of meetings with the creatures went as well as expected. They attacked him, tried to bite him and Kaneki ran as he could. Only after he stopped for a moment and took a deep breathe to relax it hit him.

The smell.

It smelled good. All over the city, in fact; everywhere he turned, he could feel that sweet scent filling up the air and Kaneki knows what that scent means. Blood, flesh, meat, food. Not the normal kind, no, but human's. Some of it might certainly be rotten, but a ghoul isn't surprisingly picky (unless you are the Gourmet). And with the scent going through his nostrils and filling up every of his senses, Kaneki comes to realize just how hungry he truly is. He avoids eating a lot, but in Hadriel, because Kaneki is alone and doesn't have any support from any other ghoul, he always allows himself to reach the very brink of starvation before he gives in and finally eats. And that will prove to be a huge mistake now because the moment he realizes how truly hunger he is, Kaneki gives in.

Instincts take over, his left eye reacts and turns black and red, red veins surround it, and Kaneki is practically drooling.

he is so hungry.

So so so SO hungry.

Kaneki has to eat, it smells so good. And so the ghoul steps out of his hiding place and follows the strongest scent he can find, which belongs to a zombie who as a large cut on its abdomen and its guts just dangling there, as if inviting the ghoul in. The zombie turns to Kaneki and, of course, follows after him, but even when it grabs Kaneki and tries to bite his arm, the teeth can't sink into the sturdy skin - it continues insisting, though; zombies aren't intelligent creatures.

But this is Kaneki's turn, now. Like a vicious animal, he suddenly sinks his teeth into the zombie's collarbone; a disgusting crack can be heard as Kaneki's teeth break the bone, and after he pulls away to swallow, with a satisfied sound, bringing along flesh, muscle, blood and bone. He isn't done yet, because as he dives in for a second bite, his hand sinks into the zombie's stomach to pull out more of its organs.

Ghouls are so messy. ]


3. Attacking zombies
[ Once he is fed, kaneki is back to normal. Which is... a very shaken boy who totally did NOT want to eat zombies, but that was a thing that happened. But not all is bad because being fed allows Kaneki a lot more than he's willing to admit: power, strength and control.

Zombies are starting to form hordes and that seems to be difficult to deal with, even if Kaneki can't really get hurt or (apparently) infected by the walking dead. And though kaneki is trying to avoid them, it's not always possible; as he leaves his house to find water, Kaneki is suddenly faced with zombies from every corner. At first he fights them with fists, pushes, kicks - and they work quite well thanks to his super strength. But when so many grab him, tug him, pull him and pretty much fall on top of him, the boy can't escape as easily.]

No, no- get off, get off- [ panic settles, naturally. He can't escape them, and that's when he realizes that he's doing it all wrong.

he is a ghoul, he is the predator here. The zombies aren't strong enough to ever deal with him. And thanks to having fed, things are much easier. Kaneki grunts and gets up, even if an undead is munching on his cheek at this point, and that's when his left eye turns black and red and from his lower back three red scaled tentacles emerge, pushing all the zombies aside.

At first. Because as Kaneki looks at them, those huge things suddenly lash out and cut every single undead trying to grab kaneki; he cuts them in half, cuts their limbs, cuts their heads and it's a huge mess. Again.

Ghouls are SO messy. ]


4. Protecting from zombies
[ With strength and a pretty deadly weapon on his side, kaneki actually decided to help whoever he can. Killing is something he doesn't want to do, he hates doing, but these are mindless zombies who probably fall under the "monster" category (like all the monsters that lurk within the tunnels) and right now? he feels like he has to save whoever he can from them. Kaneki has always felt so damn week, but he CAN fight the zombies, he CAN help and he is NOT worthless, pathetic and weak. Not now.

So his objective is to find anyone who needs help and kill off the zombies before they make any more damage. So he might be the hero you need (even if not the hero you want, probably). ]


5. Hoarding zombies
[ At the end of everything, there were so many bodies left. There was so much blood and guts, and yet zombies all left, as quick as they arrived. That probably means cleaning up the streets to get rid of the bodies, but Kaneki isn't all that focused on getting rid of them.

if someone bothers to watch Kaneki for a bit, they will notice he isn't exactly grabbing the bodies to clean up the streets; he is indeed pilling them up , but once he has a big enough pile, he starts picking among the body parts he has found. He is searching for what's fresher, what has more meat, and what he can carry without too much suspicion.

Though, anyone doing what he is doing right now is suspicious already... ]

2!

[hasitsthorns]

[ She's not alone.

That probably shouldn't be the first thought she has to seeing someone devouring the zombies. It's a strange, relieving thing though. In this world, she's not the only one with the desire to feast on flesh. That anonymous post had tipped her off, of course, but nothing could be as concrete as this. Haven had been... isolating. There were vampires and the like but that was blood and that was different and she didn't feel like they truly understood.

Sometimes Rose isn't sure she completely understands.

That crack brings back memories, however, of the time she'd eaten through Wade's ribcage and to his heat beneath. It snaps her out whatever warm, fuzzy feelings of solidarity with someone else she was having. For the first time since stumbling upon the scene, she realizes that this is also horrifying. Not to her, but possibly to him. She knows exactly what it's like to be where he is and the shame, regret, and guilt that follows. Well. Maybe it won't for him but she has to find out. And if it does, she'll be here for him.

Not that she was ever the best at comforting but, hey, at least she's an empathetic shoulder to cry on. ]

So, like, just don't eat me and we're gonna' be totally cool, dude.

Castiel - SPN - OTA all through the event!

[strangelic]

1. Prayer - Open!

OOC: If your character prays during the course of this event, Cas can hear them! So if you'd like to instigate a thread with him that way, feel free to drop him a prayer here!


2. Clinic - Open!

[ The place was a mess. That wasn't surprising, really, considering that not long ago someone had had a limb removed, right here in this room, but there really had been no accounting for the amount of blood that would spill as a result of it. And there was a great deal; a great deal of it, everywhere.

Even angels occasionally needed to clean things up with sponges and buckets, the water no less murky and pink now than it had been the very first time he'd squeezed his sponge out in it. Wrinkling his nose, Castiel kept working, one eye on the door, wary that at any moment someone else might be making a bee-line to the clinic in order to get help, or worse, to have a limb hacked off. It wasn't, to be fair, something that Castiel was in a hurry to witness again.

Making one last sweep of the floor with his sponge, the angel gave up, heaving himself back up to his feet so that he could go and change the water. It would take a while, but given that he wasn't eager to head back out onto the streets, either, he was willing to take as long as it took. Carefully, and slowly, so as not to spill any pink water elsewhere, he tipped his bucket out into the basin, and began to fill it again. ]

OOC: Open for all sorts of clinic threads! Come in injured, or bitten, or else help him with the floor, or watch and chat with him, even ask for his help to board up the windows!


3. Killing Floor - Open!

[ They were slow, but there was still something efficient about persistent shuffling, the way that it turned into something inevitable from moment to moment, a never halting stream of bodies that by the day would grow from a scattered few into a heaving crowd. They followed, doggedly, and so the best way to kill them was to take advantage of that, to guide them slowly down passages and into traps, where they could be dispatched more easily.

Castiel made good bait. If he got into trouble, or found himself cornered, he could fly away safely enough, put space between himself and the lethal dead. He was still a tentative killer, nervous of himself and afraid of striking down anything that looked as human as these creatures did, and so largely he left the knifework to others.

But that, in any case, would be why he was moving through the streets of Hadriel followed by a thicket of creatures, walking at their pace and occasionally a little faster, when it merited it, and turning back to goad the creatures into following him--which was all well and good, unless anyone decided to interfere, or cause a distraction. The worst possible thing, in any event, would be if part of the host broke away, to pursue someone else. Then Cas would have to intervene; would have to kill, and rescue, when that hadn't been the plan at all.

If not--well, he hoped he led the monsters as far as the trap. Others were waiting to dispatch them, after all. ]

OOC: Open for unhelpful helpers, people who need rescuing or people who are waiting at the trap to kill the zombies he's leading that way.


4. Holed Up - Later in the event - Open!

[ Nowhere was safe any more. That was the simple fact of the matter. Zombies thrived in every corner of the city, like an unending floor, which meant that there was nowhere in particular that was any safer to hide in, nowhere in particular that was any better at keeping them out. Castiel could run, he could even take people with him, but if there was nowhere where it was safer to take them, then the best option was just to nest down and stay put.

Not that he wasn't restless in his own right. If these creatures stayed, which was always possible, if not at least probable, then they would have to be killed in order to clear the city streets, but nothing it had seemed that they'd done so far had seemed to have any effect. The numbers had spiraled upward, people were afraid, their hope dwindling, their food supplies perhaps stretched, or inaccessible.

At least an angel could go and find food without having to take any of the boards off the doors. At least an angel is decent company, for a game of cards, or a conversation. At least an angel doesn't eat any of your precious food.

But he can be very quiet, as well, sitting and watching the heaving crowd lolloping past in the street outside through a small crack in the window, his heart heavy with uncertainty. ]

OOC: Characters can be trapped inside with him or fighting their way through the crowd to get inside!


5. Wildcard/Other - Semi-Open, pm me!

4

[knifecollecting]

[Jo didn't try to go with the angel on his excursions, mostly because he didn't need someone else to worry about.

But she did sit up with him, and make sure the others ate instead of both of them.]

You okay?

[somuchlove]

1. City streets | Open]

[Chara had, over the course of their life, heard different suggestions from many different people. One of which was to do an activity that they may like. Walks weren't the first thing that came to mind but with the knowledge they couldn't gain any EXP - bar one person but ha, if that'll work - they had to try something.

So walks it was. This place carried a sort of familiarity with being underground and all that. What it didn't carry was someone shuffling closer and closer to the child. For a moment Chara thought it was someone from other world as they came from places stranger from the Underground. But it lunges, reaching for them, mouth open and Chara does what any strong, independent child of their age would do: slash that thing across the stomach with the Real Knife.

It doesn't go up in dust. They expected that as most things seemed to bleed nowadays. What they don't expect is for it to keep going, even with its guts hanging out, and lunge again. Chara ducks, eating the dirt before trying another slash. Nothing and oh, oh it's one of those things, wasn't it?

* This is beginning to sound like the start of a bad horror film.

But they have something more important in mind and pick themselves up quickly before taking off in the direction of the Spires. They'll probably pick up a few new friends along the way, so hopefully they don't make a wrong turn. For them, Chara needed to find Frisk and get to their apartment.]


2. Spires | Closed to Frisk]

[A few days have gone by and things have only gotten worse with the new population that was moving in. Fortunately, The pair of them lived on the sixth floor so unless the zombies discover the ability to climb, all it took was baring the door and trying to be as quiet as possible.

But it was inevitable that they started running out of food. The view from this height showed how many zombies were kicking around and Chara had been listening to the shuffling of feet like when they listened for anyone still alive in the Underground. But this wasn't the Underground and if it was anything like the movies then getting bitten by one of them would end badly.

And all that was between them and the zombies was a door barricaded with whatever they had on hand.

So they go to Frisk as quietly as possible. Even if they did not wind up leaving, Chara wanted to discuss possibilities.]

Frisk. We need to talk.


3. Wildcard!

streets

[skelebro]

[So this could be going better. It could be going worse, but it could be going better, too. He's barely keepin' ahead of the slavering horde of things at his heels, and then he turns a corner and wonder of all wonders, who should be standing across from him but Kid Number Two, pursued by their own complement of groaning, putrefying things.

Probably shouldn't think of them in such clinical terms, huh. Shame - he already knows they can't be reasoned with.

The sweat's pouring off his skull already, but he's not at his limit yet. Nah, that comes later, he's pretty sure. It ain't even the eleventh hour.

It's reflexive and abrupt, and there's no indication of any effort on his part other than the incremental narrowing of his eyesockets. A line of bones springs out of one of the nearby buildings and knocks a couple of the shuffling things off-track, sending them bumbling into each other rather than closing on the kid.

Even that much is almost enough to send him dropping onto his knees, more beads of sweat slipping down the contours of his skull.

Yep. Yep. Today's already a good day.]

Watch your six, kid.

dean winchester | open from 14th-17th

[kickingand]

STREETS. open!!! (14th-17th)

[ Zombies. Zombies are so much cooler in the movies, aren't they?

Either way, Dean is out and about kicking ass, taking charge, and taking names. Despite the fact that he already blew through most of his ammo already, one of the perks of being so utterly attached an angel (shut up he is not using that word, you cannot make him), is that Dean's got Cas' angel blade and he might be kind of running amok. Granted, he's not one to believe that he's running himself ragged after damn near every zombie he lays his eyes upon, but Dean is keeping busy.

Even more than that, he's trying to usher away just about... well, everyone. Maybe one or two people could get away with walking on by (here's lookin' at you Sandor) without Dean taking much concern, but he's trying to usher people in directions that aren't in front of zombies wandering gaits, no matter how slow they may or may not be going. The point is, he's trying to keep people out of harms way. Are you one of those people? Feel free to be one of those people that Dean is manhandling towards the nearest shelter, pushing rather steadily to make sure you don't get your face eaten off.

Or are instead you one of those people that sees Dean go all rage monster and take out three or four of the fuckers at a time? In fact, he may be even Rage's blessing without being fully aware of it. Or maybe the Mark of Cain's just taking advantage of this whole thing (it probably is, too), which is perhaps why if you get a little too close once he's done taking care of business, he might turn a stick an angel blade in your face.

Surprise. ]


STREETS. closed to steve!!! (17th)

[ Dean's been going pretty much full tilt since this whole thing started. And while he's been doing his best to keep everyone out of the way, he couldn't convince himself to kick Steve to the curb. Maybe he should have, maybe he should've sent him back to somewhere non-zombie-ridden but who the fuck was he to keep someone out of the game? Hell, he'd nearly helped little kids go after monsters at this point in his life, been the bad influence a hundred times over.

Besides, Steve's an adult. Wasn't his business what he decided to do, and besides- they were kind of making a pretty good tag team. It wasn't cooling Dean's jets any and he told himself he could go all night long if they needed to, but Steve was poppin' the zombies once more once they were down just to make sure they stayed that way and Dean could rest a little easier in that they were doing everything they could possibly do. ]

This is the part where I ask if we've got 'em all, yet.

[ That's supposed to be a joke. Or something. Because you never have all the damn zombies, not ever, but he flashes a look over at Steve and then back up again, listening for the sliding sound of footsteps. ]


SPIRE ONE...ish. closed to cas!!! (18th)

[ Rage's blessing was, in part, a blessing in disguise. Dean had tripped sometime earlier while running forward, meaning to meet a group of zombie's head on, had crashlanded into the glass from a broken window and marred his hands worse than he was sure he'd ever done before. But it didn't hurt, and the severe lack of pain flew to his brain like nobody's business, making it a hundred times easier to pick up and run, to slash and hack and plunge into the throats of any zombies in his vicinity. At one point there was even a scuffle between he and a particularly feisty zombie; it had lunged forward, teeth clicking, made a grab and Dean had wrenched back and away.

Or he thought he had. An elbow to the face, a blade in the brain, everything was fine.

But it didn't mean he wasn't bleeding.

All Dean was aware of was the blood dripping in a steady flow from his palms, and scrubbing his hands off on his shirt did nothing but blossom more blood to the surface almost immediately. It rolled from his fingertips and dripped past his wrists and it was one huge fuckign mess, but he didn't feel it. At least until he heaved a breath, the adrenaline starting to leak away from his veins, and then the pain rushed in, stinging furiously, making him grit his teeth. It made the burning across his collar something nearly imperceptible, from where the teeth of the earlier zombie had connected, had left behind a print of chompers. But Dean wasn't aware of that, no, right now he just needed a little of Cas' mojo so he could keep going. ]

Cas? [ He lifted his chin a bit, looked up and glanced around- ] You hear me?

18th!

[strangelic]

[ When Dean called, Castiel always always came running, was willing and quick, unprepared to let even a moment pass--so long as he was disposed to come, so long as he wasn't busy, or trapped, or in trouble himself. So long as he wasn't guilty about some such thing. His responsibilities and loyalty to Dean, however, had changed somewhat in the past two months, and so he didn't hesitate even for a moment. He took wing.

A moment later he was standing just behind Dean, not too far away, just naturally out of his line of sight. Dean turned to face him, and Castiel smiled, if only for half a second. Dean was injured, bleeding. No wonder he was calling for help.

He stepped forward immediately, looking around at the bodies that Dean had left at his feet. He moved closer, just as fast as he could, and he reached up to touch Dean's jaw, concerned for him, and fiercely protective.

His healing power spread from his fingertips, without even a breath of question. He didn't wait for permission, but even as he healed Dean's wounds, he felt something pushing back against him, rejecting his efforts, a taint that was spreading out underneath the surface. It was agitating the Mark, as well, its darkness roiling dangerously. ]

Dean. You've been hurt. Why didn't you call me sooner?

Tiny Tina | OPEN

[burn_all_the_babies]

(at the start of the event) Shops:

[ So there were flesh eating dead people walking around now, huh? Shame Tina hadn't the time to actually make or improve any weapons specially for the occasion! What she had been able to do however, was make a few, rather crude traps to protect the store she'd managed to barricade herself inside of.

When I say crude, I mean crude. Such as the Viet Cong rolling trap , the Apache foot trap and finally her favourite, The Medieval mace trap!

Standing on a shoddily made ledge, propped out from one of the higher store windows, Tina lent forwards, looking on at all the undead she'd so far managed to tangle on her traps. Instead of going down and clearing them off, she simply dropped a few homemade Molotov cocktails down upon their heads from time to time, wait for them to burn to a crisp, then bashed at their corpses untill they were nothing but dust and ash on the ground. ]

Roll up! Roll up! Zombie folk alike! Come and play at Tina's carnival of pain!

[ Someone was having far too much fun. ]

(mid-event) Tea Party:

[ Tina had yet to realise she was able to claim a home of her own, or at least share a living space with some of her fellow residence. As such, she'd been living inside an abandoned store Sans had helped her break into gain access to. If you happened to be walking past said store, you'd probably notice the ghastly smell coming out from inside of it. ]

Would you be so kind~♪ as to pass the sugar, Professor Guts n butts?

[ Addressing a rather messed up zombie she'd strapped to a chair with plastic ties and duct tap. It's stomach slashed open, guts and coagulated blood decorating his lower abdomen, legs and the floor. Tina had shoved a monocle made from a broken milk bottle, around one of it's eyes, pinned on a cardboard moustache and rammed Doctoral hat she's fashioned from an old tin can, charred black and held in place with a spiked rod ( not so deep into the zombies head that she'd killed it thought. A dead guest is a bad guest!) ]

So, tell me Mister Ate-his-wife, how long have you and the Missus been together? More tea, Gloria~♪?

[ Talking to the next zombie sat at the table. This one's jaw was broken and dangling from a thread of rotten flesh. The wife she was offering tea to tied to his side, covered in bite marks and wearing matching rings, Tina had assumed they were husband and wife and so from now on they would be. Leaning over the table, pouring tea into her three guests cups, nodding her head as if actually listening to their moans and groaning. ]

Oh really? How very interesting, prey tell more.

[ Using her dressy voice, the one she'd use when in her element! She'd not had the chance to host a tea party here yet, seeing as she didn't really know anyone- but as she hears the door creek open, Tina quirks her brow and turns to face you. ]


Do come in~♪ There's plenty of room for late guests!

(at the peak of the event) Swarmed!:

Um okay y'all are getting WAY TOO FRISK! Back! Back I say!

[ Tina had found herself in a bit of a predicament. Having dangled and dropped down from her makeshift ledge to scavenge some more supplies, so that she wasn't using up all of the ammunition she'd arrived with, she's managed to wind up getting herself cornered without so much as a pointed stick to fend off the flesh eaters with. what's worse is that just out of reach, sat propped up against said ledge are her Bunny Rabbit suicide dolls... What a shame she can't reach them.

For possibly one of the first times in her short life, Tina was feeling as though this was going to end badly. Normally she'd be away from the danger, held up in her workshop making weapons and items to deal with situations such as this. Oh, if only she had her Badonkadonks remote controls on her instead of having left them on the ledge up there. Oh dear. ]

If anyone can hear me HELP! GURL NEEDS DAT BADONKADONK LIKE NOW!

Tea Party! (format fixed oops)

[infinite1up]

[Between the horrific smell and indistinct but chirpy childish voice, Sato indulges his curiosity. There’s really no such thing as clean during a zombie apocalypse, so blood-soaked doesn't even begin to describe the state his clothing is in by this point. So while not as gory as the zombies themselves, he's also not exactly the most pleasant sight to have barging in, especially with a bloody machete still in one hand as he pushes open the door.

He's not sure what he was expecting to find, but it wasn't this.

A look of mild surprise passes briefly over his features before settling into a friendly smile. He never had zombies growing up, but he'd enjoyed playing with animals as a boy. They never survived for very long, but it was fun at that age, wasn't it?]

Well now. I'm sorry for intruding. I hope there isn't a dress code for this event.

He says, cheerfully playing along for a moment.]

Jo Harvelle | OTA | Will match format

[knifecollecting]

Early in the event (14th-16th or so)

It took her a few minutes to put things together. There were two people, and for a moment she just assumed they needed help. New people had just arrived, and who knows, maybe these two went into the tunnels...

But then they turn to her and one is missing their face and as they shamble towards her they simply groan.

"You've got to be kidding." Did Fear watch a Day of the Dead marathon? She hesitates, as if they might change their mind, but as the first gets too close for comfort she buries her sword in the zombie's head and flees.

As more pour in

She didn't let the zombies keep her inside. But then the next time she left there were more of them than there had been and she has to take cover in the back of a shop, out of sight of the window while she catches her breath and tries to figure out what to do.

Holed Up

Jo knew she didn't need food or sleep, thanks to the blessing she had received from Delight. That was coming in handy when resources were limited and she wanted to make sure others had what they needed.

Plus she didn't feel like sleeping, not knowing those things were out there. The apartment spire didn't feel extraordinarily safe. She spent a lot of time going up the stairs to check on Dean and Sam, or just sitting with her door cracked open to watch the stairs as well.

As more pour in

[the_avenging_angel]

Helena knows she has only been in this strange place for a few days but it feels longer. She has spent most of the time hiding, and looking for faces like hers in the crowds, but there have been now.

Now she has to fight for ever hidey–hole, before something else gets there. She remembers hearing stories about monsters like these, zombies ... she liked it better when they were just stories. But they are not hard for her to kill, one stab to the head and it was done.

She is hiding in a store now and someone else is here. She creeps towards them, knife ready in case they try to eat her too.

Emily | closed

[unfollowing]

Sewing shop, September 14 - closed to Glacius

[NOPE. Nope nope nope, fuck no. Emily caught one glimpse of the two shambling corpses outside and fled right back into the sewing shop, locking the door behind her and shoving a heavy table in front of it. Once, she might've thought this was bullshit, but after you find out that wendigos are real and that, guess what, there are all these alternate universes floating around, you learn to react quickly to threats like this.

Luckily, Em is someone generally level-headed, so even though she's scared, she's also primed to react mor or less properly in the face of danger, hence the fleeing and barricading of the door.

But, thanks to all the shit she's been through, she's also fucking terrified. She knows how zombies work. One bite and you're one of them (THAT'S WHERE BITES TRANSMIT A SUPERNATURAL ILLNESS, MICHAEL.)

Clearly, though, these zombies are determined to try and eat her brain, because she can hear them banging on the door, the dull thud of their rotting fists smacking against the wood like some lazy drummer who hates their orchestra conductor or some shit.]

Fuck. [Goddamnit. Goddamnit. She needs to go home, but she can't leave if they're out there waiting for her to all but offer herself up to them with open arms. No way in hell is she going to call Matt to help her (excuse you, she is not letting him potentially become zombie food for her), and yeah, Mike has Wolfie, but a) Mike is an asshole, and b) she likes Wolfie too much to put him in danger.

The banging on the door intensifies, and Emily huddles into a corner, glancing down at the contacts list in her phone in near desperation. She needs help--

Wait. Glacius. Glacius said he would help her out if anything ever happened, that he's much stronger and better prepared to survive just about anything than she is. Those zombies could never bite through his icy armor, right?

It's worth a shot, or else she's zombie food.

Shakily, she manages to shoot off a message to her friend.]

please help me get home, there's zombies outside the shop, they're trying to get in to eat me

Please please please. [She stares at her phone once the message is sent, shaking, as the zombies keep pounding at the door.]



UD house, September 15 - closed to Matt

[Of course shit has gotten worse.

Of course there are more zombies out there, and of course the safest course of action is to hole yourself up in your room.

This would be so, so much worse without Matt here. It's bad enough as it is, really, but at least she has him to hold onto, to be terrified with. They may not be able to help each other out much otherwise, but--]

Ohmygod--! [Her voice is thin and high with fear as the ugly moaning of the undead echoes up the hall.] Matt, they're coming for us! [She turns, burying her face in his chest, clutching him for all she's worth.]

heyyy my gorgeous gal

[meatbrained]

( oh come on. like it wasn't enough he was dropped into a Final Fantasy game in the colosseum, but now we're in a horror movie too? this sucks, man.

(okay, it's not like home is much better with a psycho apparently traipsing around the mountain, but freaking zombies? really??)

suffice to say that Matt is not doing much better than Em in the not freaking out department, but he's trying to seem like he is. she's scared and he has to try and do something, right? )

It's alright. I'm not gonna let them get us. ( not. that he has any idea how to stop them, but. maybe if he pushes furniture at them they'll... back off? or he could break one of the bedside tables, use a leg as a club. )

| katydid (not ask for this). open and closed.

[dedikated]

( teamwork )
| closed to faith
( the first instinct, upon seeing zombies, is dread. and Kate had plenty of it. she's never liked zombies, the way they dash and outspeed even her, the fact that they need to be fully decapitated, that sometimes - depending on the movie - that wasn't even enough.

(she watched too many horror movies as a kid, what of it?)

then? then it turns out they shamble, and Kate blinks. they stumble. they take ages to move anywhere. god, she's practically walking them to their death, occasionally tossing a knife at any that try to come up in front of her, stopping them in their tracks. )

You're up.

( she's just gonna jump out of the way, landing on the rooftop of their house, and let Faith go to town on these things while tossing a few more knives into brains, mmmkay? )

( target practice )
| open; clinic rooftop
( the clinic is, and always will be, important. not only to the citizens of Hadriel, but to Kate herself. she likes the other staff members, and she likes being busy, likes doing things that are useful.

(even if, most of the time, she worries that it isn't enough, that she should have more skills, be more capable. god, she misses home sometimes, misses the purpose she had there-

but, right now, she has one. the kind that she'd normally hate, the one that she wanted to leave behind but can't ever quite manage to. it's still a purpose and zombies aren't quite the same as Creatures, they don't have that sentience, that something that makes them more than moving target practice-)

she perches on the rooftop, knives in hand and almost relaxed as she tosses them into the heads of zombies. they'll never be as sharp, as deadly, as the ones she misses from home, which Carl had enchanted to be better than physically possible, but she tosses them with enough force to smash skulls and bury deep into necks.

maybe she kills them, or maybe she stops them long enough for you to kill them. or maybe you're chilling on the rooftop with her, picking off your own monsters. either way, say hi. she doesn't look particularly taxed. )

( upgrades )
| open; armoury
( about halfway through the hoardes, she runs out of knives. so, obvious solution? head to the armoury.

Kate can be found picking up knives and going through the racks, occasionally grabbing something much bigger than her usual throwing knives, testing the weight in her hands and giving it an experimental swing.

it's far more Alicia, to favour a sword, but she did learn her combat skills off that woman. she should be able to handle something like this.

... or perhaps something smaller is in order? a dagger, something she can move quickly with, but keep on her person. )

... Nah.

( she tosses the blade back onto the rack and moves to the next set of options. )

( close combat )
| open; late-event
( eventually, she picks up a few new things. a dagger - yeah, she went with one - that sits in her belt; wire that can be held taut and used to decapitate, and a staff of her own. she's not Faith, Faith uses a quarterstaff like its an extension of herself, but she can hit hard enough to shatter zombie skulls with enough momentum.

which is, actually, exactly what she's doing, teeth gritted and hair covered in decaying flesh and brains.

... at least it isn't blood. or, if it is, she's too busy, too coated in the slime of dead human flesh, to notice the metallic tang under everything. )

You alright?

( Kate, you should probably check yourself before asking others that. panting and flushed, covered in zombie bits, is not what most people call alright. )

( wildcard )
( find Kate somewhere else, or for another purpose? come visit her at the clinic for a quick patch up or chat? see her around town, looking for supplies or hopping rooftops in an attempt to avoid the floods down in the streets? )

target practice;

[hotspurred]

[It is vital throughout this -- God rest their souls -- invasion of 'living' corpses that the clinic remains protected. So while Henry could fight on the ground, it is less efficient than a ranged defence from a high vantage. Which is why, putting away his preferred sword and shield, he takes up his longbow and a plentiful supply of weighty arrows and heads to the clinic rooftop.

Apparently he is not alone in that resolve.

The vibrant pink hair immediately marks out the person already at post as Kate. Henry's approach is easy to hear as he crosses the roof. Picking out his position, he stops not too far from her: there is space between them, but it's within earshot. He sets his full quivers down by his feet and then retrieves his bowstring from the pouch on his belt he keeps his phone in. As he gets to work stringing his bow -- it is better for the integrity of the wood if it stays unstrung while not in use -- he glances her way.]

Hm. Knives?

[He spares a moment to watch her technique with professional interest. Throwing knives are not weapons he's used himself -- they were more in Iamarl's realm of expertise -- so it's fascinating to observe the technique in practice. Normally the nature of battlefields prevents that kind of scrutiny. They deal more damage than he might expect.

Either way, it works out well: in theory their choice of weapons compliment each other. She can handle the front of the oncoming hordes, while he can pick at distant targets and ensure that the shambling corpses are thinned out in a way that prevents all chance of being overrun.]

Rey | OTA

[circumitus]

[ ooc: Placeholder for oncoming top levels. Starters will be added soon, but if you'd like an overview/plot, just check out my plotting comment or hit me up on the social medium of your convenience! (PM, IM, Plurk, whatever is fine by me.) Thanks. :) ]

14th-16th. (i could never know what the dead man sees)

[circumitus]

There are some tropes that just don't die off with time. For someone with certain memories that go well back when zombies were still a hip thing, it doesn't take much for Rey to recognize what is happening, and who is culpable.

Fucking Fear. Suppose he couldn't be satisfied when he had meddled with their light source. The only logical alternative is to orchestrate a threat of an even larger scale in order to sate what ails him -- and that's a lack of terror among those he got landed here in the first place.

Rey isn't afraid now, though. Not long after her first encounter before promptly putting a knife into its gray matter, she makes use of her own personal arsenal and prepares for the worst. Right now it's a meager population of undead. A hobbling body here, a crawling corpse there. But if Fear is as predictable as she anticipates -- and he likely always is -- she knows that it'll only get more chaotic.

Somewhere down the line, you may find that some streets prove to be unsafe for both the living and the walking dead, with various innocent-looking lunchboxes converted into homemade landmines. With no need for discretion when dealing with the unintelligible invaders, the lunchboxes appear in a variety of colors to tip off the unsuspecting passerby happening upon the scene.

If the obvious warning signs and the traps laid out aren't enough that something is amiss, perhaps a calculated shot from the rooftop of a nearby building ought to get the message across:

Don't fuck with Rey's landmines.

Of course, it doesn't help when the occasional explosions tend to attract more to the street that's become Rey's very own war zone.

jack benjamin | throughout event | ota

[benumbing]

[When Jack arrived just a few months ago, he wasn't terribly concerned with whether he lived or died. It wasn't blatantly obvious, he'd just made peace with the fact that there are things worse than death, and that all that he was had been erased to the point where it no longer mattered.

His attitude has shifted since. He's decided to live, out of spite if nothing else. Maybe he can re-find the satisfaction of proving himself again, even if there's no crown waiting or him at the end of it. There's also no one asking him to slice himself up piece by piece, and bury the ones that are found to be undesirable.

It's only been a few weeks since he first picked up a bow, but he's had a very good teacher in the form of a young Stark girl who pulls no punches with the former prince. He picks them off cleanly at first, but eventually their numbers grow, and his arm is getting tired.]

...Fuck.

[The curse flies almost as soon as the arrow does, because Jack can already tell that it's going to miss its mark. So he lowers that weapon and draws his knife instead, tackling the thing's midsection like he's in another bar brawl instead of the apocalypse. It's reckless, but he ends up on top, a boot on the zombie's neck before he pierces its decaying forehead. He sighs, tilting his head at it impassively.]

A shame. I bet you were quite the looker in your day.

[A sound through the broken glass of the nearest building gets his attention. Fellow survivor/scavenger, more of the undead, or the scurrying of rats? Jack collects his things before he heads in that direction to find out.]

[wipedclean]

[He's ditched the guns back in the apartment in favor of blades. There's just too many zombies and not enough bullets. He's not going to waste his lead when he's got perfectly good swords, which he is competent enough with to cut his way through the zombies and dispatch them.

They're not difficult enemies. But there are a lot of them. He just has to be consistent. Steady. Watch his back.

He beheads a zombie perhaps too enthusiastically, and the head goes flying, shattering a window, which only draws the attention of more of them. He sighs. Keeps fighting.

It's beautiful, in a way. He's got a certain grace, brutal, efficient, cutting his way through his enemies and finding the cracks and openings and forcing spaces for himself. He knows what he's doing. It's his nature.]

cecily trevelyan ; open and closed ; spoilers in video link

[closerift]

september 14th - 17th, ota

[ She doesn't see the walking dead before word gets out. Of course, the Inquisitor has seen shambling corpses like these before: the forms of those drowned and blighted (or not) in Crestwood. Still, hearing of their presence in Hadriel, while not a shock, is an unpleasant reminder of all the ghastly things she'd left behind in Thedas, things that still very much need doing.

Arrows work well. Cecily sends them swiftly enough through the stragglers, nerves on edge with the feeling that the invasions that beset their cavernous home are usually much more... pressing. Urgent. Dangerous. These 'zombies' are slow-moving and stupid besides, grunting and moaning and falling when the shaft of an arrow snaps through their skulls. She retrieves the arrows, but warily, getting any and all matter from off of them before returning the bunch to her quiver.

Through the first half of the invasion, the Inquisitor is out and about, clearing the city as much as she can, fighting alongside others and alone. As more and more of the walkers make an appearance, she realizes that she had been right to be worried. ]


september 18th, closed to leliana

[ There are too many for comfort. Her heart races as they find themselves in a throng of the monsters, all scrambling toward the warm, living bodies. It reminds her more and more (too much) of when she had become a similar creature, though faster and more limber, but just as deadly. Those memories and the experience of her subsequent death cause panic and fear to settle into her core, widening her eyes and quickening her pulse. ]

We can't - [ Cecily grunts, cut off, as she grapples with one of the zombies, trying desperately to keep it from getting its teeth anywhere near her. Luckily, her arms are strong enough from her weapons training, and so she successfully gets it back far enough to drive a dagger through its softened eye socket. After, she breathes heavily, brushing against the spymaster as she backs toward the other woman. ]

We may have to retreat. [ She says shakily. She's low on arrows and has just the one ally, though undoubtedly the rest of the city is doing just the same.

It isn't good, not by any standards. ]


september 18th, closed to cole

[ Leliana is dead. It's a direct mirror of the dark future at Redcliffe where the emaciated rogue had sacrificed herself to give Cecily and Dorian a chance to jump back through time, to ensure that this bleak end would never occur.

The zombies close on the space where Leliana has fallen and Cecily remembers telling the other woman, later, of what had transpired in Redcliffe Castle. Leliana had barely blinked at the news, so calm in her reassurance that she would choose the same path (the same end) in an instant.

Just because she is accepting of it all does not mean the Inquisitor will accept it. As such, the blurry-minded Cecily yells, enraged, driving her dagger into the back of the nearest monster's head. She's just yanking it out again when another grabs a hold of her right arm, yanking it back, and she barely has time to cry out and go to knock it away when it manages to drag its bloodied teeth along her outstretched palm and wrist.

No. No, no - The Inquisitor stabs it, kills it, but then staggers backward, wild-eyed. Her hand, the one not marked by the anchor, is a scarlet mess, one very obviously torn into by the teeth of an affect creature. She shakes violently as she stares at it, unable to do much else, completely frozen as she starts to attract the attention of the zombies who have finished with Leliana. ]


september 18th, closed to cullen

[ After they speak, she wastes no time. Cecily uses as much energy as she can muster after this long, long few days to bolt to their meeting place, ignoring the sting from her bite and the near-constant surges of the anchor. That, of course, is growing powerful again, unruly every so often, but it's not the focus of her attentions for once. Not when she's facing the threat of... transforming again into something she doesn't want to - and won't - become. ]

Cullen. [ She doesn't get too close, just in case. The Inquisitor swallows dry, dark eyes wide and urgent, before holding out the bloody mess than is her right hand. The other, like a jealous, second child, crackles angrily with the force of the anchor, which Cecily nearly hushes out of irritation.

Essentially, the Inquisitor is a hot mess. ]

Leliana is dead. I was bitten. I need you to remove the hand.

[ Cecily is nothing if not straightforward. Where she would normally just do the dirty thing herself, she doesn't think a dagger would do a very good job of removing a hand, and... she can't bandage the wound well after. It'd put her at risk for a score of other things, assuming the sickness born of the zombies is actually stopped after the site of the wound is gone.

She meets his eyes, expressing, though not in so many words, that there isn't time to argue. To debate. To find another way. Most importantly, the stark fear that's written plain there says that she will do anything to avoid becoming something that she is not.

Not again. ]


september 19th-20th, ota

[ The Inquisitor is somehow back at full speed for the last days of the invasion, fighting across the city with a sharpened dagger and, noticeably, no bow on her back. Some of that is likely due to the fact that her right hand has been amputated and is now safely bandaged, but quite unable to handle a two-handed weapon.

The other, though, seems more productive than ever, and more people than usual will see the anchor displaying its explosive power, literally. Green lighting-like magic snakes around her form, lighting her and the monsters around her in an eerie glow, until, every so often, she is actually jerked up and into the air slightly by the hand. It fires off a few warning bolts before busting to life, lashing out at anyone nearby, though she does her best to limit it to the zombies and to warn off any others who get within its painful range. When she's dropped down again she winces, also (to a lesser extent) pained by the damn thing, but moving determinedly on nonetheless.

Her destination isn't exactly clear, but it ends up being Sorrow's Temple... ]

[fadeling]

[There's too much fear--it drowns everything else out. But dead people are supposed to stay dead--they don't wake up. Unless they're in this place, apparently. But it drowned everything else out--hunger from them, pain and fear from the still living ones. It makes it hard to tell what hurt belongs to who. He starts to panic when he can't find anyone--but all he has to do to find her is to look for the bright.

He finds that right in the middle of a seething mass of dark and hunger. That doesn't exactly help. But as long as the bright is still there, he knows she's still alive.

When he makes it there he almost can't see her through the horde. He doesn't even hesitate to use the knives. They were already dead anyway and even if they weren't, they were trying to hurt. He has to make it to her. He has to.]

Elmer C. Albatross | open!

[keep_smiling]

[A - House 1403]
[If you happen to be outrunning a horde of horrible zombies and are looking for a place to hide, you're in luck. Anyone who runs by will find that the door to one of the houses suddenly flies open, and an arm reaches out to grab you. Thankfully, this arm isn't an undead one, and you're pulled into safety as Elmer slams the door behind you. He gives you a grin as he starts to push a bookcase in front of the door, which seems to be the last opening of the house he's covering up. All the windows have been taken care of, but now the apartment is lacking most of what little furniture it once had.]

Ah, good timing! Well, the bad news is, they probably saw us. The good news is, we should be safe in here til this whole silly ordeal dies down.

[Other bad news: you're now stuck inside a house for god knows how long with Elmer C. Albatross.]


[B - Streets]
[Can't stay inside forever. Eventually, even immortals need food. So, Elmer makes his way out trying to stay as quiet as he can. He's no match for hungry zombies, though. He seems to be armed with nothing but pieces of furniture as a weapon - table legs, it seems. They're not the greatest replacement for a good stake, considering he had nothing to sharpen them down with. And who goes after zombies with stakes?! Basically, Elmer is regretting everything. Just because he's immortal doesn't mean getting swarmed and teared at by zombies is fun. Maybe someone can help?]

B

[foundafamily]

[Firo's also out and about, this time trying to hunt down his friends to make sure they're safe.

Elmer's not exactly someone he'd consider a friend, but he stops anyway.]

...What exactly do you think you're gonna do with that? Club 'em?

[It'd probably work, now that he thinks about it. He's not sure how efficient it'd be, though.]

arya stark | open

[whichend]

period one: incubation.
[ Arya knows the stories. They come when it’s cold -- or perhaps they bring the cold. Either way, when the armies of the dead arrive, that can only mean more death. The ones that come to Hadriel aren’t exactly like the ones in Arya’s stories, however. They’re thawed and rotting, not frozen, and they’re much, much slower. It’s a small mercy, really.

The other citizens call these things “zombies,” but Arya still thinks of them as wights. Either way, she knows how to protect herself against them. Sever the head, burn the corpse, live to fight another day.

The decapitation isn’t difficult, not really. It’s a little gross, but Arya’s seen her fair share of gross. She’s well-practiced in this sort of thing. But in Westeros, it’s common sense to burn the bodies of the undead, so that’s what she does here. It’s to make sure they don’t come back. She’s crouched over a fire now, watching decaying flesh turning to ash, ready to spring if something comes. Fire makes smoke, and smoke can attract people -- living or dead.

When she hears something approaching, she springs to her feet and draws her sword, staying behind the fire like a kind of shield. She doesn’t know if the newcomer is dangerous or not, and with the city in the state that it’s in, she’s not about to take any chances. ]


period two: prodromal.
[ The dead keep coming, and coming, and coming, and soon enough, there are far more of them than there are of her. As much as Arya tries to pretend otherwise, she’s on the small side, and when she’s surrounded by several creatures who are much bigger than she is, she’s at a disadvantage.

Perhaps they smelled the blood in the streets, or the blood on her sword. It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that about a dozen zombies cornered Arya in a shop about six hours ago. She was able to fight them off -- eventually. But not before one bit her, creating an obvious and oozing puncture wound in her left thigh.

She never expected the infection to set in this quickly, but that’s what you get with a smaller metabolism. She can bandage the wound, but not amputate the entire leg -- that’d kill her just as easily as the infection.

So she barricades herself inside the store, tries to stop the bleeding, and waits, becoming greyer and weaker as the hours tick by. ]


period three: illness.
[ This zombie is just like any other: hungry. What sets it apart is its size. It’s small, with the proportions of a child. The features that haven’t rotted away are round and still nearly youthful, which makes it all the more disturbing. This zombie clutches a stick not unlike a rogue would hold a dagger, and when it walks it drags its left leg, bandages peeling, bite wound festering.

When it registers the human, it opens its mouth and moans, aggressive and hungry. ]

NrrggghhhaaaHH!!

ii. sans "this is gonna hurt you more than it hurts me" the skeleton

[skelebro]

[Sans is...

Tired.

He's real damn tired. Snapping himself through space every time another place gets overwhelmed, which is often it turns out, only to have to do it again thirty minutes later.

When he materializes, he miscalculates his exit point, ends up sending a clatter of empty tin pots and cookware crashing the the ground. He nearly wipes out in the process but manages to catch himself on the end of the shelf, staggering as he jerks himself upright.]

...crap.

[He's not aware yet that he's not alone, just that the noise is likely to draw unwanted attention.]

Rashid | Open!

[turbulentwind]

A. The Hero Protecting the People

[First the tonberries, and now this. At first, they just spooked Rashid, shuffling towards him and wanting a bite. Yeah, he wasn't having that. If horror movies and internet articles taught him anything, it's to aim for their heads. It takes a few tries, but he succeeded in taking a couple out.

But then their numbers increase, and Rashid's doing his best to stave them off so people can escape to possible safety. As he's pushing some away with whirlwinds, he hops back, ready to take on another one.]

You're more stubborn in real life. Hey!

[He waves.]

Little help, here?

B. Cleanup Duty (cw: probably gonna be gross)

[Something that most zombie flicks don't cover: the aftermath. The smell's enough to make Rashid lose his lunch, but he tries to keep focused. He's armed with a shovel he found at a busted shop, in case anything tries to attack while he's moving various parts around.

Why is he bothering to do this? Because they deserve a clean place to live. He might come from a well-off family, he's not afraid to get a little dirty. Even though this is pushing his limits.]

Yecchh. This has to be the most disgusting day of my life.

C. Choose Your Own Adventure!

[ooc: will match prose or brackets!]

b bc it'll be fucking cute ok

[meatbrained]

( uh. guy. what are you...? Matt's currently covering his face with a sleeve of his letterman jacket - yep, still not letting go of this thing - to block the smell, watching what's going on in the relative quiet of this area.

... ah. he gets it. that's actually a pretty great idea. so, um; )

Want a hand?

( he may be a kid, and may not be Mr. Action Hero Michael Munroe, but Matt's still a young, healthy football player. he has muscle to spare. )

Miriam Day - ota

[dogsanddaughters]

Bar

[What do you do when there's a zombie menace wandering around outside? If you're Miriam, you do the obvious thing. Which is to head straight to the bar, take a table with clear sight-lines in every direction, and start up a con game of poker with Barnaby lounging at her feet. Because everything is juuuuust fine, right? Right

Don't mind her. She lives her now.]

Streets

[Unfortunately, Miriam does have occasion to leave the bar. Unhappily, she's doing it alone, with only Barnaby and a stun baton to keep her company. And yeah, she's attracted some attention.

Uh. Help?]

Bar

[illegally]

[ You know what? Miriam has the right idea. Stan also finds himself in the bar -- well, he barges in, panting heavily -- and does a double take when he sees her. She's definitely human, he assesses. Good. He's tired of looking at undead freaks. ]

Uh. I'm not a zombie.

[ Better get that out of the way.

...This is a bit awkward. ]

What'cha playin'?

Maketh Tua - ota

[mismanagement]

Guardpost

[Just like before, Maketh has been busy arranging a passable defense of the city. It's to the first time she's encountered such creatures, but they're different from the things she was briefed on in the Academy. For one, they don't appear to fear extreme temperature, and seem less infectious. A small favor. The Old Republic hardly fared well against such things.

Currently she's sitting at her desk, making notes on a report and staring at her empty coffee mug.

Coffee. Would be appreciated.

There's also a rifle resting at her side, just in case. Her eyes are ringed with dark circles, but she's alert and ready to go. Just say the word.]

Patrolling

[The entire point of having a guard in the first place is to protect the city, and Maketh has learned that the people only respect leaders that follow their own advice. So she's suited up in her armor and taken to the streets to deal with the problem personally.

You'll find her up on the roofs or clearing shops, rifle and sword at the ready.]

wildcard

[Make your own!]

patrolling.

[snowballers]

Look out!

[ They're far behind him. But Mike's still running, bloody club in hand, straight at her. ]

I counted six!

for heine. delight's bar.

[bekommen]

[It's early enough on in this zombie infestation that Nick hasn't quite pieced together what's happening - after all, weird shit happens here all the time, and she's been here long enough to know what to expect, for the most part. Still, she should know better than to let her guard down as she does, working alone at stocking the bar before it's open, not really paying attention to what's happening outside. So when something eventually does happen to draw her attention, she yells, startled:]

Jesus! What the fuck?

[blitzkriegspitz]

[ Heine had seen Nick in the bar before, so far he'd managed to avoid actually having to interact with her. Sulking in at night or when the bar seemed to be at it's busiest, making a b-line for the stockroom or bathroom stalls, somewhere he could hang low and hide until the place was empty and it was safe to come out.

Tonight however, was different. Heine had been distracted, got caught up fighting off one of undead, let his guard down and ended up sneaking into the bar when Nick was busy stocking up and not having to deal with customers.

He'd been crouching down behind a shelf stocked with bottles, trying to hide when he was spotted. Her startled yell rung through his ears like a siren, that and his own internal yelp at having been found and by a women at that. ]


.... It's okay! Don't yell! Just- stay over there... I'm not gonna hurt you.

[ Not gonna hurt you that voice inside his head mocking Heine as he said the words, shit he couldn't even look her in the eyes as he spoke, voice shaking, clearly more startled than Nick was from finding him. ]

[zen_en_vert]

At first, he doesn't know what's going on out there; he lets anyone in the clinic who wants to come by. Bruce collaborates well with his large team of staff, deals with the little injuries- bumps, bruises, raked fingernail marks, and the like. And yes, a bitemark or two turn up, but he doesn't think much of it.

Later in the week, it's a different story. Half the people working at the clinic have been incapacitated or had to move elsewhere for one reason or another. They've had a few experiences with people turning. Bruce sits on their doorstep, hollow eyed, with his hands steepled in front of him, pressed over his mouth. He's ready to stand up and greet anyone who makes their way to them-

-and to turn them away, if he has to. He hasn't slept in the last two days, and has a golf club sitting next to him, leaning against his knee. The key, he's learned, is to keep ahead of them, never let them build to a critical mass in the road. It means there are more than a few bodies strewn around.

He can collapse after all this is over, he tells himself.

[dedikated]

She's been busier, since Faith arrived. Preoccupied with settling her friend in, moving house, and a sudden infestation of zombies. It's something that's kept Kate moving, barely giving her time to stop and help with anything other than making sure the walking dead don't completely invade the clinic (rooftop defence with Henry, teamwork with Faith, everything that keeps her too busy to watch the necessary amputations that prevent the spread of the disease.

That is probably a good thing.)

Kate wipes the staff she's using off with her jacket, wipes down her boots with it too, does anything she can to get as clean as possible before heading to the clinic entrance - she isn't spotless, but she's had cloth wrapped around her head for the whole thing, keeping her face blood and guts free, and the jacket can be discarded.

It's probably pointless, but hygiene. It's necessary, even if the patients are likely tracking all the slime in anyway.

"You look like shit." Everything but taken aback, right? They're in a fucking zombie apocalypse, and even if this is by far the least scary thing she's seen so far, it's exhausting.

Sharon da Silva | Closed

[unitas]

▍▍▍▍I. EARLY EVENT | CLOSED TO MELLO (torrefied) & CHRIS (thechoiceisyours)

[ It smells like the dead. It's been a little more than a day, and the city already smells like the dead; a fucking stink that clings to every surface, and gets knotted in the brain, never to be forgotten. The alley smells worse, somehow, the scent thicker. She gags, and covers her nose with the back of her hand on instinct, but she can taste it on her tongue.

The visuals aren't much better, the ground covered in shiny, dark spots of gore. The few dead that she can see appear to be dead dead, or dead again, their faces smashed beyond human recognition. And that means, for all the stench, it's the safer route around the small horde that's gathered near the closest cluster of stores.

She tip-toes through, stepping over twisted limbs, and bloated torsos, her grip on her kitchen blade tighter than ever. She's almost through when one of the dead—one of the should-have-been-dead-dead—reaches a bony hand for her ankle. She screams as she trips, hitting the ground (still damp, her chest and fingers now sticky and dark) with a hard thump.

She feels sick, dazed, for one single heartbeat, and then she's scrambling, yanking, pulling. She does not scream as she smashes the green-grey fingers with the butt of her knife. She does not scream as she jams her kitchen blade into it's eye as it clambers on top of her, it's other hand pulling, digging, at her white leather vest, as if it's trying to pull out all her vital organs. She does not scream as it drops limply on top of her.

Her body shakes. She feels sick. The knife is stuck, sharp edge jammed into the bone of the eye socket. She shoves the body off of her and breathes deeply, shakily. She does not have time to catch her breath, or to slow her heart beat, or to swallow back the panic. Her scream was the Dinner Call, and everybody is hungry tonight.

Sharon takes off, out of the alley, only moments after the first zombie stumbles in where she'd entered. She runs blind, brain taking in only the necessary information, and soon she's stuck. It's not a dead end, but it may as well be. The only other paths were just as busy, just as clamoring with the undead as her own, along with the familiar silhouettes of Chris and Mello (they just barely register). There were no other ways to run; they either had to fight their way out of this—a virtual impossibility, even with her supernatural abilities—or... A wooden door catches her eye, and she doesn't waste another second, feet already there, hand on the handle—it turns with ease, and she throws it open. ]

Get the fuck over here! [ She screams.

Please, god, please, please, please. ]

▍▍▍▍II. LATE EVENT | CLOSED TO L (hearthebell), with later appearances by MELLO (torrefied) & NEAR (solvethepuzzle)

[ Sharon has abandoned the idea of using a knife now. Early on, it was easy to get close, and jam it up through the back of the skull, but now the streets are infested, and getting too close is asking for a bite. So, she's taken to the lead pipe. It's got a hefty weight behind it, and she can brain a zombie, and knock down another with a single swing. She can clear herself space quickly now, smash a head while on the run, shove a creature out of her way without having to touch the soft, pudding-like skin on their bodies (she swears it just takes a little pressure in the wrong place for a finger to slide right through, messy).

But all of it has been messy.

She's got all sorts of new gore on her, the kind of mess you want to shower off with a hose before you go inside to get actually clean. She feels sticky, and gross, but it's one of those uncomfortable things she pushes to the back of her mind as she moves. This area, luckily, appears mostly clear of undead. There are stragglers, but they're not packed tightly together; they barely even notice her as she moves from building to building, keeping her body up against them. She's ready to move to the next when she spots one of the stragglers, back to her, directly in her path. The moment she takes it out, the others are going to notice her, but they'll notice her if she heads back, as well.

Fuck.

With no other option, she surges forward, and swings the pipe down. This close, her brain registers that he doesn't have the same green pallor as the undead, that his clothes seem marginally more clean, that his hair isn't falling out in chunks. This close, Sharon can tell she has just made a terrible, terrible mistake. There is no stopping the pipe, not now that it's been swung, but she tries, for what little good it'll do. ]

early.

[torrefied]

[This place is such colossal bullshit.

Mello didn't ask for any of this - being dragged away from his mission, used as a power source against his will for creatures that claim to be gods, any of the assorted nonsense they've put him and everyone else through in the time he's been here - but he especially didn't ask to be accosted by the actual walking dead on a routine trip out to the shop for supplies. The whole situation is disgusting, and it's dangerous, and Mello is good at adapting to shitty situations, but he is completely out of his element here. Two wasted bullets have no effect on the creatures, so instead of standing his ground and making an attempt at fighting these things off, he runs - a quick analysis tells him that he's faster and more agile than these things, and avoiding them is a better strategy than taking them on in combat.

... At least, Mello thinks it's a better strategy. The fact that they've more or less surrounded him - and Chris, and Sharon, too - suggests otherwise.]

Tell me these things aren't what I think they are.

[He doesn't really need the outside verification - his words are more an expression of exasperation than an actual request.

His attention is pulled toward the sound of Sharon's voice - does she need help, or has she found a way out? Either way, Mello takes off running again in that direction, following her through the open door.]

Jasper | just one little open prompt

[missionfail]

[Destruction is cathartic. These vile, rotting creatures are nothing like the skeleton she's already met. They don't talk, they can't be reasoned with, all they do is try to gnaw on others. That means no one should have any problem with her ripping them apart.

Despite the way she might act sometimes, Jasper isn't actually one for carnage without reason. She's a soldier, not a hoodlum. Given the opportunity to take out some of her rage in a perfectly sanctioned manner, however, of course she's going to use the opportunity.

Therefore there is a very large, very orange woman stomping about tearing zombies apart the way someone might pluck apart insects. She doesn't seem at all worried about infection, nor do the zombies make many attempts to actually bite her. It's hard to turn a rock undead, after all.]

[wormintheglass]

[Bianca, who is agile and strong but not enormous, is being rather more cautious, using alleys and walkthroughs and occasionally roofs to dodge the larger groups while picking off as many zombies as she can with her new crossbow or her pair of machetes.

She happens to pop out of an alley just in time to witness Jasper's glorious act of destruction, and she actually puts her machete down so she can applaud.]

Brava, dearheart! How magnificent!

Wade Wilson | OTA

[ishotyouuu]

You know how all those zombie movies have an inherent set of rules to weed out the Darwin award-winners? Stuff like "never travel alone" or "be aware of your surroundings at all times" or "for god's sake shut the fuck up you stupid shitbag are you trying to get us all killed"? Unfortunately, Wade Wilson had never had much of a talent for rules, much less the cardinal rules of Zombie Apocalypse 101. Plus... well. There's a secret part of him that wants to be Woody Harrelson. Is that so wrong?

If you're heading into the city proper, you might notice that things have gone suddenly quiet, or that there's a sudden scarcity of the zombies milling about the streets. That's because they've all converged to one point outside of what looks to have once been a pharmacy, swarming the spandex-wearing thundering dipshit who's currently in the process of throwing himself bodily into the horde, firing his guns, laughing insanely and generally breaking every single rule in the zombie survival guide.

"C'mon, you brainless douchecanoes! Buffet's open and I got a prime rump roast right here with your name on it! Izzat really the best you can do? C'mon, come at me! I've shit out tougher things than you! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

At least he's having fun?

[wormintheglass]

Bianca has the "be aware of her surroundings" part down, at least. She's surprised herself with how much she's been enjoying this miniature war, between Rey's wonderful pyrotechnics and the amount of exercise the zombies are giving her.

She is fast, clever and agile enough to have avoided getting cornered; the large groups are easy to outrun or dodge, and the smaller groups aren't too hard to take down with her blades or her new crossbow.

It's the noise that attracts her attention; that and the fact that no zombies have tried to chase her for three streets now. Are they cleverer than she thought? Are their numbers running low? Or - horror of horrors - is she no longer attractive to the undead horde?

Ah. No. It's only Wade, providing a noisier distraction. She grins in sheer relief to see him, and does not attempt to join him in the centre of the fray. Instead she waves hello with one machete, and scientifically decapitates a zombie near the edge of the melee with the other, taking care to dodge the splatter of unpleasant bodily fluids as she does so.

"Do be careful where you're firing that thing, dear heart."

Gren

[murderpotato]

A. This is Thriller

Gren, never previously a connoisseur of zombie flicks, has learned two things during this pseudo-zombie apocalypse. One: go for the head. Two: punching zombies is a really ineffective manner of killing them. During the beginning, it was okay, because he could either pick off lone shamblers or avoid the small groups. That tactic is starting to get less and less viable as there are more of them in the streets; too many teeth, not enough hands. It's hard to try to punch and entire mob without somebody taking a bite out of his ass.

He ducks into a shop-- he's looking for shit to reinforce the doors and windows of his house, keep these fuckers from getting their hands on him or Rhys while they're sleeping or some shit-- and locks the door just in time. They were trialing him and they're gathering at the door, hitting at it with their gross, corpsey limbs.

Gren is not drunk enough for this shit.

"Fuck," he says, and that pretty much sums up this whole situation. Just... fuck.

But this place has to have a back door, right?

B. Cut off this shit like your name's Ash Williams. - for Simon Tam

Fuck. Fuck this, fuck Fear, fuck this whole goddamn murdercave hellhole.

There's a stabbing, throbbing pain in his right leg from the set of fucking teeth marks in it, and he can feel the blood running down and getting his jeans wet. Bitten by a goddamn zombie, fuck all of this but he's not turning into one of those shambling fucks.

There's got to be something you can do about it. He's not real up-to-date on his zombie knowledge, never was a big fan of horror films, but there's got to be, like, some medicine you can take or something. He doesn't care what the fuck it is, doesn't care if he has to hook his stupid ass up to an IV drip of straight bleach, he'll do it.

He already died once. He can't do it again, he can't have Rhys walk outside and see his gross-ass corpse coming after him and trying to eat him.

He manages to avoid any more zombies on his way to the clinic. If anyone's going to be able to help him, it's somebody at the clinic, right? They'll have medicine. They'll have something.

"Who the fuck here's a real fuckin' doctor?" he says when he gets into the clinic, like the tactful asshole that he is.

B

[hippocratical]

There's no time or patience left in Simon, nothing that would previously have explained to this stranger that they've got several 'real doctors' and there's really no room for anyone here to be balking at even some basic first aid administered by a trainee. He settles for a sharp look, one that catches the blood on the stranger's thigh, and Simon is striding across the room in a flash.

"When were you bitten? How long has it been? And where did it happen?" His voice is entirely business, grim. He's already seen where this goes, but he isn't about to just let a patient die, no matter how inevitable--or short-lived--it might be.

simon, clinic, open:

[hippocratical]

[duration of event:]

[After his network post, Simon stays true to his word. Moving into one of the rooms above the clinic, he immediately begins work; collecting data from the network, beginning to piece together the rudimentary origins of a lab. And in the meantime, he does what he can for the cave's afflicted residents and those who gain injuries in other ways during the fighting and chaos. As the week continues, the number of zombies only grows; he tries not to think too hard about where these new zombies are coming from, only throws himself harder into his work. If he isn't making rounds treating injuries and checking up on those defending the clinic, he's with his med bag upstairs, trying to come up with some solution with their meager supplies. He can't let people die. He won't. Not without trying to save them first.]

[evening, 19th September:]

[It had to happen eventually. It's been six days, just about, and he's running on whatever brief naps he can catch in between rounds, any sleep that he manages to find with the moans of the undead outside and the fighting that mingles. The clinic is well-protected, at least on the outside, and when a patient dies they are prompt with the removal and disposal of the corpse before it returns. But Simon's exhausted, and all it takes is one mistake; just five seconds of carelessness, and he's clutching a bleeding forearm as the shock begins to set in. His first thought escapes his lips before the pain even registers.]

River.

Event

[mismanagement]

[True to her word, Maketh shows up to the clinic in person, rifle and sword held close, and makeshift armor protecting her from bites. Mostly she's been able to avoid the hordes, by moving quietly and taking cover when she finds it. Their supplies of ammo aren't unlimited and she's very aware of her own combat abilities. She's not like Henry or Rey, she won't survive getting cornered by a mob.

But work must be done, regardless, and she doesn't have the manpower to send a guardsman in her place.]

Doctor Tam?