MT Zombie Apocalypse CLOSED

[Atlaga]

This is the IC thread for all of those who signed up in the OOC Interest thread. If you were not in that thread, then this is unnegotiably CLOSED.

If copious amounts of OOC appear (they likely will) I will start an OOC thread.

Post what your character is doing in the form of a narrative with Limited Third Person being the preferred format. If you want to talk to another character, make a post like "(name), where do you want the propane tank bomb?" and wait for the person you asked to answer. Try to address people by their character's names and not their names.

If someone inexplicably drops from the thread, then either A) their character will be presumed dead or B0) I will take control of their character temporarily. This will only happen if someone is gone for a LONG, LONG, LONG time. if you don;t post for a few days, I'm sure everyone can be patient. If you could appraise us beforehand, though, it would be great.

[Songri]

Duran slipped through the back alley's of the city. His eyes constantly moving as he silently slipped through the shadows. He and the rest of his team had been sent into the city to fufil their objectives, and they had decided that 5 teams of 1 would have a higher chance of success than any other configeration. Suddenly he stops. A sound ahead of him, something banged on a door. As he starts to move ahead and the sound gets louder Duran realises that it is hitting far to often to be a single zombie. Reaching a corner he peeks around it to see about five of them banging on a door. A quick look around determines that their are no more zombies nearby. He could slip around them, but to do so would put him on the main street for at least a block, and if he ran into a large group of zombies he would prefer to have a narrow space to fight them in so they could not flank him. Reaching behind him he draws his two combat knives and throws them at two different zombies. The knives, perfectly balanced for throwing, spin through the air multiple times before becoming embedded in two zombies throats. As they drop to the ground the other four turn and start lumbering towards him. Instead of drawing a gun Duran simply charges at the zombies. He is capable of handling four on one odds in a martial fight with regular songri soldiers, and these zombies are a lot slower and less trained then they are.

After a brief fight the four zombies are dead, their necks snapped by carfully aimed blows, the few times they had managed to even come close to hitting him they had been stopped by his baggy uniform, which combined with his mask ensured that his body was completly sealed against any possible infectant. Duran starts to keep moving in his old direction of travel but pauses by the door the zombies were battering against, curious. "Anyone alive in there?"

[Idaho Conservatives]

OOC: I think it'd help if we had a map of our city showing our locations. That way, we're not wandering around in completely relative positions.

[Blademasters765]

ADD ON TO SONGRI'S

Captain Johnson

who asks?

Johnson opens the door carefully with his Steyr Aug raised high
Seeing its another survivor he lowers his weapon

Who are you?

[The Halseyist Faction]

Alexi DuGalle staggered through the ruined city streets, the residual feelings of a nasty blow to the head slowing his still insane mind. In one hand he loosely clutched a magnum, one shell missing from the chamber, embedded now in the rotting remains of a Zombi's head, that slumped against the wall, a street back and to the side. The other hand clutched the battered remments of a soviet flag, still bearing the proud symbol of the USSR, now slightly covered in dirt and grime, the item no doubt 'Liberated' in Alexi's cause from some school of museum.

For the moment, the streets around the madman were clear, the ravening hoards of restless dead no doubt amassing around the holdouts of the few remaning surviors, most likely groups of police, or army personel, accompanied by those citizens hardcore enough to grab a gun and join the fight. This was soon sure to change however, as every moment that passed was another moment closer to the death of all those that remained here, and another step that Alexi took towards his eventual goal... The Police Station.

For inside his twisted and battered mind, he was certain that there he could find men of reason to appeal to. Officers of the Law, like himself, who could understand his kidnapped plight. Although Capitalists, and theirfore the lowest level of scum, surely they could work with him, a Colonel of the Moscow City police, to escape this wretched hell he had been cursed and kidnapped in, and help escort him of the soil of whatever trice damned nation this was, and too freedom back in the motherland.

Muttering dark threats, and black promises under his breath, the madman stepped still further on, the sound of his ragged breathing matched at every turn by the ceaseless distant moans of the living corpses, and of course, the occasional, final, scream.

[Zirilrath]

Francis looked down from the ledge he was perched upon, the sounds of the shuffling horde strong from beneath him as hundreds of his less gifted brethren staggered towards the closest source of food. They looked quite comedic where they walked, like an army of drunkards.

Sniffing the air he felt the distinct smell of humans, and decided that he'd rather not share the food with the stumblers below, so he quickly jumped to the rooftop in the direction of the humans and started to run, clearing the gaps between buildings with ease thanks to his overly strong leg muscles, a gift of his previous mutation. As he came closer to the source of the smell his mind started to get more and more single-mindedly focused on the thought of feeding, of eating flesh, the downside of his gift.

Then he saw them, two men sitting on a rooftop drinking beer, cackling their disgusting laughs as they fired at the zombies below with hunting rifles, secure in their knowledge that they were safe. Or so they thought.

Francis put extra effort into the last few meters of the sprint and launched himself into the air, flying towards the two oblivious men. One did not notice that anything was wrong until he had a strange man pouncing on him, and his friend fell over backwards, frantically trying to realign his gun to the attacker, only to have it pulled out of his hands before being sent flying off the side of the roof by a kick from Francis' strong legs, plummeting into the waiting hands and mouths of the horde below.

The other one started screaming as Francis began feeding on his still living form.

[Gotter des Krieges]

Nate Stone filled up his SUV with the last of the gas "Shit!" Nate thought as the last drop fell into the tank, he needed to find more survivors. The car started smoothly and he sped off leaving no chance a rouge zombie would pick up on his scent and alert the "others." To his right was is .45 magnum loaded and ready for any uncalled for circumstances he hoped he wouldn't have to use it, but in a post-apocalyptic wasteland you ALWAYS had to be prepared. He kept driving looking on each side of the street for any survivors he could take with him.

(OOC if anyone would like to join me and have me find you in my SUV just telegram me.)

[Songri]

As the door opened to reveal a soldier holding a Steyr Aug Duran moved to the side and raised his own 'Eagle' Assault Rifle, only lowering it when the other does so. Ignoring the others question Duran asks "Is their anyone else in there?"

[Blademasters765]

As the door opened to reveal a soldier holding a Steyr Aug Duran moved to the side and raised his own 'Eagle' Assault Rifle, only lowering it when the other does so. Ignoring the others question Duran asks "Is their anyone else in there?"

Johnson moved aside to reveal his pet Rhodesian Ridgeback

[Songri]

Duran looks at the animal for a second before focusing back on the man "I suggest you get out of the city. The longer you stay here the higher the chance you will die." WIth that he turned around and walked off, the grey pattern on his uniform allowing him to slip into the shadows of the alley and his feet are carefully placed to avoid makeing a sound. Since his uniform is almost completly sealed most of his scent is masked as well. Duran is confident on his ability to avoid detection by a large mob, and fight his way through any individual zombies he encounters that cannot be avoided.

[Blademasters765]

Johnson watches as the strange man walks off He runs up to him before he's able to get away and asks one question which way out?

[Songri]

"The direction I just came from." Duran points the opposite direction to where he just came from. "Try to avoid the main road if you can, and if you do shoot be prepared to move soon after as the gunshots will bring them swarming all over each other for a chance to get to you." WIth that done he continues on his way.

[Blademasters765]

Johnson pulls out his Sharp Machete and begins to move towards the direction the strange man came from

[Songri]

ooc: You havn't thought that through have you Blademasters? Your moving around with a bladed weapon (IE one that draws BLOOD) in a city filled with zombies who spread their infection via bodily fluids (Guess what, Blood does indeed fall under this catagory). I'm sure I posted a recomendation of any melee weapon being blunt rather than sharp otherwise you risk infecting yourself with any attack.

OOC: I think it'd help if we had a map of our city showing our locations. That way, we're not wandering around in completely relative positions.

+1

[Blademasters765]

OOC:Fine then that was a bit wrong of a choice make it blunt it wont be real effective but w/e

[Tiurabo]

Officer Henry Barren quickwalked down the middle of the street, avoiding windows and alleyways as much as possible on both sides. He was still dress in his dirty, stained, and now sweaty police blues, minus the tie, which had been tossed. He didn't look too good, with his features pale and sweating under a thin coating of grime, his uniform shirt unbuttoned to reveal a set of light body armor. He gripped his ASP in one hand, sidearm in the other, his shotgun slung over his shoulder should the need arise. He hadn't run into many crawlers yet since had gotten out of the area right around the station, which was also right next to the Memorial Hospital.

That was what had him shaking and dripping with a cold sweat; memories of that hellish scene, with people trapped in their cars during rush hour, being pulled from their cars, or joined inside unexpectedly. Retching dryly, he stopped, hunching over. Fortunately, he had nothing left to bring up anymore, barely any fluids at all. That was another reason for the shivering, and the pallor. Dehydration. He couldn't keep anything down except the little water he had in his squad car, a pitiful excuse for sustenance he kept only to stave off his caffeine addiction.

"Coffee would be really good... and maybe some don-- Focus, you moron!" It wasn't until he cried out that he realized he had been muttering under his breath. Cringing, he started off again, faster now. It was vital that he find somewhere to get a drink. Anywhere would do, any convenience store that didn't have a caged door, or even a house if it came to that. He shuddered, and it had nothing to do with his memories, more like a prediction. He had a vision of creeping through a deserted house, searching for provisions, finding out way too late that the house was far from uninhabited...

He shook it off, trying to focus again. That wouldn't do him any good. He had to find someplace reasonably clean. Maybe he would find some people, though deep down he figured that was a fat chance. The only people who would have survived would be in gangs. None of them would be too pleased to see his blues. That was the next thing, new clothes. Keep the badge, and guns, ditch everything else when you get the chance... Goramit, he was talking to himself again. He cursed himself bitterly, shutting off all thoughts until he found some food and water, keeping his head on a swivel and his ears open.

[Malikov]

ooc: You havn't thought that through have you Blademasters? Your moving around with a bladed weapon (IE one that draws BLOOD) in a city filled with zombies who spread their infection via bodily fluids (Guess what, Blood does indeed fall under this catagory). I'm sure I posted a recomendation of any melee weapon being blunt rather than sharp otherwise you risk infecting yourself with any attack.

OOC: Actually, a zombies heart doesn't beat, therefore, blood won't go splashing around when you cut them with a machete. The The Zombie Survival Guide actually mentions the machete as one of the best possible weapons to use. They're of a perfect length, able for use in... tight situations, durable, and easy to use and carry.

[Blademasters765]

ooc: You havn't thought that through have you Blademasters? Your moving around with a bladed weapon (IE one that draws BLOOD) in a city filled with zombies who spread their infection via bodily fluids (Guess what, Blood does indeed fall under this catagory). I'm sure I posted a recomendation of any melee weapon being blunt rather than sharp otherwise you risk infecting yourself with any attack.

OOC: Actually, a zombies heart doesn't beat, therefore, blood won't go splashing around when you cut them with a machete. The The Zombie Survival Guide actually mentions the machete as one of the best possible weapons to use. They're of a perfect length, able for use in... tight situations, durable, and easy to use and carry.

thats what i was thinking at first but i couldn't be bothered arguing

[Songri]

ooc: I stand corrected than, Please ignore my previous ooc post.

[Joesavi]

OOC: I made my weapon as realistic as possible, it can't be that bad.... Also, I'm pairing my character with yours, Idaho, hope you like the setting.

Name: Captain Hugo Von Stauffenberg
Nation: Joesavi
Age: 33
Weapons of Choice: A gold-plated PPSH-74 "Reaper". An upgraded copy of the PPSH-41, it holds a double drum 140-round magazine. It is refitted with a bore that fires .45 ACP rounds. The gun can be fitted to fire 1000 rounds per minute or 1200 for more advanced marksmen. . Muzzle Velocity of 550 m/second. Sawed-off shotgun, Baseball bat, Molotov Cocktails.

Hugo Stauffenberg is one of Joesavi's finest soldiers. He leads the Basterds, Joesavi's small group of elite special forces. A fierce fighter infamous for his connections to the Joejovian mafia.

Traits: Powerful and strong, a marksman. A renegade not afraid to go against orders.
Weaknesses: Goes out of his way to help people, even if it means putting his life in danger. Not the luckiest of people.


Captain Hugo Von Stauffenberg sat in the 77th floor of the humongous Stalingrad Soda headquarters. It was one of the largest skyscrapers in Joesavi, towering up to 99 floors. It was in Stalingrad, one of Joesavi's largest city and its economical powerhouse. Standing beside Stauffenberg was Sgt. Nicolas Reed, a soldier Stauffenberg has known for a long time. Nick Reed was a soldier of the Basterds, a Joejovian special forces unit designed to repel an invasion by the Fascist Empire of United Gordonopia. Nick Reed was actually from the Armed Republic of Idaho Conservatives, but he was chosen by Joejovian officers to join the Basterds after showing elite skill in numerous battles, and he agreed to join.

The two soldiers were posted in Stalingrad to repel the sudden spread of...uh..."zombism". Nobody knew what was going on, but it was everywhere and there was no stopping it. When Stalingrad became overrun, they retreated into the building, and have been inside it for a few hours now. Groans and disturbing screams filled the air, becoming closer. The doors were locked, but bloody, mutilated hands began banging on them. Stauffenberg drew his PPSh-74 and got ready to fight.

[Atlaga]

ooc: You havn't thought that through have you Blademasters? Your moving around with a bladed weapon (IE one that draws BLOOD) in a city filled with zombies who spread their infection via bodily fluids (Guess what, Blood does indeed fall under this catagory). I'm sure I posted a recomendation of any melee weapon being blunt rather than sharp otherwise you risk infecting yourself with any attack.

OOC: Actually, a zombies heart doesn't beat, therefore, blood won't go splashing around when you cut them with a machete. The The Zombie Survival Guide actually mentions the machete as one of the best possible weapons to use. They're of a perfect length, able for use in... tight situations, durable, and easy to use and carry.

thats what i was thinking at first but i couldn't be bothered arguing

OOC:

1. The Zombie Survival Guide was written as a JOKE. It will not be used as definitive information, EVER.

2. The bodily fluids do count as being infection carriers- and a machete would cause blood to go everywhere, even if it is gelatinous.

3. A blunt implement to crush the skull is actually more effective. I would suggest the Cold Steel Warhammer.

IC: The corporals at the barrier gate were carrying M6s in the SAW configuration. Lines of razor wire, tanks, armored fighting vehicles, and rocket launcher systems, as well as infantry, crowded behind and on top of the mobile barriers that the army had used to set up the perimeter wall. Frightened refugees crowded around every gate, even the ones labled 'Ingress' like the one that Colonel Henderson was at- and at this stage in the quarantine, they would still be processed and either allowed to leave if uninfected and separated and contained if infected. The corporal on the left checked Henderson's PDA for the correct ingress authorization codes. "I see that you don't have any egress codes, Colonel," he pointed out rather unhelpfully. "Yes." said Henderson. "I don't think that I'm supposed to leave unless you guys come and get me." "Well, sir, we'll be ready." "As soon as you've figured out how to get rid of this bug!" put in the other soldier. "If," said Henderson. "If i figure out how to get rid of this bug." The first soldier waved up to the Armor Captain on the barriers and turned back to Henderson. "You're clear to go sir. They'll disperse the refugees in a moment." The captain yelled into a megaphone at the milling crowd below- "MILITARY VEHICLE COMING THROUGH. PLEASE MOVE AWAY FROM THE GATE. IF YOU DO NOT DISPERSE WE WILL FIRE NON-LETHAL ROUNDS. THIS WILL HURT." Reluctantly, the crowd began to move away form the gate slowly- at this point they were rightly convicted that they could get out by waiting to be processed. in later stages, this would not be the case. Non-lethal rounds would then find a use. The gate retracted, and the corporal smiled in the window at Henderson. "There you go, sir. Best of luck to you." He stepped back, and threw a surprisingly crisp salute for his laid-back nature. The other corporal and the captain also snapped to attention, and as Henderson slowly drove through the lines of armor and infantry, a line of saluting men were his honor guard into hell. As his Jando MVW-6 got through, the gate closed behind him with a foreboding crash.
Making his way slowly through the suburbs, with slowly pacing refugees stalking out of his way. This far out, no living dead were present, but his M6 PDW was ready on its sling. As Henderson moved forward, he saw no one doing anything but trying to flee the city center. Eventually, his MVW reached a gas station at the very edge of the city rises. The man there was going through every pump, trying to fill up his civilian SUV. Henderson slowed to a stop. "You know they don't let vehicles through the quarantine, right?"

[Malikov]

OOC:

1. The Zombie Survival Guide was written as a JOKE. It will not be used as definitive information, EVER.

2. The bodily fluids do count as being infection carriers- and a machete would cause blood to go everywhere, even if it is gelatinous.

OOC:

1. All Zombie books are written as... JOKES. Zombies do not exist. The Zombie Survival Guide, however, treats zombies as a real threat, and identify's the best ways to kill such creatures. The things it says are all a joke, for Christ's sake, ALL zombies are jokes. That doesn't mean we should discout what the Guide says, as stupid.

2. The blood would dry, and harden, in the veins of the zombies, and would be like scabs. Anything that came out would be like little pebbles of blood. It wouldn't splash.

[Atlaga]

OOC: What i mean is that max Brooks wrote the guide as a joke, while World War Z was his serious book. And in the OOC section, we agreed on Zombie physiology- they have gelatinous blood. They still use it.

A machete is capable of killing zack, but a warhammer or other blunt implement is a surer bet.

[The Halseyist Faction]

Alexi DuGalle continued on his merry way, apparently free of exciting encounters for the moment. The low mutterings continued under his thick accented breath, Russian voice alone as it advanced down a sidestreet. The hardly ledgable sign, coated now in a decidedly depressing layer of expired brainmatter read; 843th Street. Now he was just two blocks from whatever unexpecting horrors awaited at the police station.

Sweaty fingers gripped tighter around the magnum as he took another cautious step, passing by the ruined enterence to a particularly impressive mall, the bodies of several armed mall agents littered in the doorway, blood dripping from several unsightly wounds. It was, unfortunately, quite likely that they would soon be stiring from their restless sleep, and so the pace quickened, USSR flag trailing along the ground behind him as the delisional madman hurried on towards his destation.

[Idaho Conservatives]

Stalingrad (if that is the name of our city)
Stalingrad Soda Building, 77th Floor
1800 Hours

"Oh shit, here comes Zack", Nick Reed muttered aloud. He ignored the thunderous pounding on the door and loaded the last three 12-gauge rounds into his M5 shotgun, then checked the Colt .45 on his hip and slammed back the shotgun action, cocking the weapon. The noise coming from the hall was growing louder, and the moans of the undead were now clearly audible. "Captain, are you ready for this", he asked Stauffenberg. "Just watch me", he replied arrogantly. Now the door was booming with the fists of the zombies, echoing throughout the room. Stauffenberg counted aloud: "3...2...1...", and on cue, a dozen zombies burst into the room. Reed instantly pumped three rounds into the leading zombies, ripping open their chests and blowing them backwards into the hall. Although they promptly got up, they caused some of their comrades to trip over them, creating a small pile of undead. Although seven were still advancing, they were quickly slashed to pieces by Stauffenbergs's Reaper submachine gun. Reed saw one quadruplegic zombie continuing to crawl towards him, but one shotshell to the rotting head ended that. Then, Reed saw Captain Stauffenberg throw down his empty machine gun, pull out his sawed-off shotgun, and sprint over to the zombies in the hall, who were just getting untangled and upright. He blew off the head of one in his face, punched a second to the ground and shot him, ram the butt of the gun into another, and blasted one behind him. As the zombie with no torso proceeded to crawl to its feet, Reed realized that Stauffenberg was unaware of the foe behind him. With the captain and the unead too close to risk a shotgun shot, Reed whipped his .45 out of its holster, ran to the door with a battle cry, and just as the zombie turned to face him, close enough for Sergeant Reed to see that the zombie was missing four teeth on the left side of his mouth, he put the pistol barrel to its head and pulled the trigger. The decapitated zombie slowly slumped to the ground.

"Sergeant, why the hell did you just do that? I had this situation under control!"

Reed had to admire Stauffenberg's bravado. In a moment where he could have easily become bit and infected, the captain was criticizing him for saving his life.

"Relax. We've only got 12 Zacks so far, and the night has just started. Let's find another room now and barricade it." He walked out of the room, smashing his boot in the face of a headless zombie.