Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

At 3/22/08 07:39 PM, Swordstick76 wrote: ((couldn't you have just put that all in one post? >:( it's abuse of the forum, i say!))

((I second that statement, >:( learn some common courtesy!))

At 3/22/08 07:42 PM, lilcheeselad wrote: A huge monster with a mutilated face crashes through the door.
Father and son "Oh my God!"
The monster devours there bodies and crashes through the back wall jumping into the street picking up the corpses on the sidewalk and eating them.
Later that month, the army drops a nuclear bomb on the state(s) killing everything
and leaves no survivors.

That is the end my characters

I don't really think its to good because It was short. Next time try harder. I not say anything but I'm just recommeding it. Add more details because you did not explain If the monster was the mutilated mother or the one who killed the mother. Please try harder next time.

((Oh, man! Time really flies, huh? My apologies for the absence, I've been rather busy. Can somebody care to fill me in?))

Cool can l join and theres an awesome Left 4 dead club

NG account: benavides20
Age: 13
Character Name: Aiden benavides
Character age: 13
Area: roming around a plaza
Weapons: a machete
Appearance: short brown hair, brown eyes , a red/pink shrit, gray vest ,short jeans , a justin timberlake style hat, runners.
Breif Bio: i was a saxplayer playing in a band and a rock fan. i aslo spend a lot of time at the libary sudying guns

At 3/23/08 12:47 AM, HitTheTarget wrote: ((Oh, man! Time really flies, huh? My apologies for the absence, I've been rather busy. Can somebody care to fill me in?))

((How long you been gone?))

Target,you're back.That's great news.we all thought you'd gone for good,At least someone can be in charge again.

Okay the main story.

You're character and the rest of the police force are held up in City hall,Dragon's characters are outside ready to storm in and save you and my characters are on the way to help.The other members are all at a sawmill for some strange reason ,until the story makes more sense i'm guessing.

Dragon is absent for the time being so you can run the story like always.

At 3/23/08 10:57 AM, Misumena wrote: Target,you're back.That's great news.we all thought you'd gone for good,At least someone can be in charge again.

Okay the main story.

You're character and the rest of the police force are held up in City hall,Dragon's characters are outside ready to storm in and save you and my characters are on the way to help.The other members are all at a sawmill for some strange reason ,until the story makes more sense i'm guessing.

Dragon is absent for the time being so you can run the story like always.

My character is also on his way to City Hall. Also I requested to be the one to write the whole breaking the siege of City Hall segment, and since you appear to be in charge, I await your judgment.

At 3/23/08 11:30 AM, Chickidydow wrote:

My character is also on his way to City Hall. Also I requested to be the one to write the whole breaking the siege of City Hall segment, and since you appear to be in charge, I await your judgment.

Good for you. Good to show respect

I have no idea who this guy is either.

Hello, Mr. Target!!!! :)

(( i guess ill come join the fight as well. You can use my character as long as you dont get him dead.))

Chaz: Hey Kerma, Whats this pin doin on City Hall?
Kerma: I dont know, maybe its where the people that got here before us went.
Chaz: Eh, maybe i should go check it out. Im gonna take that piece o' crap bike there.
Kerma: Uh should I come with?
Chaz: No stay here wiith Lila, Ill beback in a couple of days

Chaz got on the bike with a shotgun and his crossbow and pedalled towards City Hall. He stopped across the street on a hill and scopped out the situation. There were Zombies all around it just beating on the makeshift barricades and moaning insesintly. He radioed Kerma Telling him what he saw and then he tried to radio any survivors inside seeing if there was anyway to get inside.

(( Ok use my guy as needed))

Sorry for screwing up and making a crappy story

I feel so embarrassed

At 3/23/08 06:07 PM, lilcheeselad wrote: Sorry for screwing up and making a crappy story

I feel so embarrassed

Well mistakes are how people learn, maybe next time just learn where things are at, what things are supposed to be like, you know? Not just making your own thing up, unless you put a little effort into it that is. Bottom line is don't sweat it to much, just take a little lesson from this whole little experience.

At 3/23/08 04:57 AM, benavides20 wrote: NG account: benavides20
Age: 13
Character Name: Aiden benavides
Character age: 13

((Must be 17+))

Area: roming around a plaza
Weapons: a machete

((Why would a 13-year old be wandering around a plaza with a god-damned machete?))

Appearance: short brown hair, brown eyes , a red/pink shrit, gray vest ,short jeans , a justin timberlake style hat, runners.

((Height?))

Breif Bio: i was a sax player playing in a band and a rock fan. i aslo spend a lot of time at the libary sudying guns

((Quick summary of what needs to be fixed:

1. Character age.
2. Weapons (relates to character age. I just find it slightly unlikely that a 13 year old would be walking around with a machete.)
3. Characters height.
4. Make the bio longer. I know it says brief, but include what you were doing before the outbreak happened, your state of mind, etc etc. Whatever you think would be nice for us to know would be nice, really.))

((If you revise your sheet, please make a new sheet. Don't responded saying "okay then age: 18 weapon: machete and bio: asdkljfas". Fill out the sheet again please for the love of god. I hate having to back-track to find the original sheet and re-check it. If you just tack on the info needed, you will be ignored for the most part.))

((Hey, I'm not asking to be a vet or anything, but would you guys mind if i helped approve character bios? I'm in here about every thirty minutes (i do routine sweeps of my fav forums when i'm working on stuff) And i wouldn't mind doing you guys the favor.))

At 3/23/08 06:07 PM, lilcheeselad wrote: Sorry for screwing up and making a crappy story

I feel so embarrassed

Couple things to remember when posting here.

1. NEVER, kill everyone's characters, unless someone gives their permission to kill then, just don't.

2. When you post, don't chop them into little bits just to up your post count, that is rather annoying. Try to keep your parts together.

3. And mainly for my sake, use lots of detail, you don't nessicarily HAVE to, but it helps to explain what's going on, how people are supposed to picture certain things, and what's happening overall.

4. Try to keep in the general time frame so that people don't get mixed up as to who's where, and what is happening.

These are just a couple tips so that everyone can enjoy your posts.

At 3/23/08 04:19 AM, q13qew wrote: Cool can l join and theres an awesome Left 4 dead club

Sure, but instead of asking, fill in the bio information, remember to make it realistic.

At 3/23/08 06:57 PM, Swordstick76 wrote: ((Hey, I'm not asking to be a vet or anything, but would you guys mind if i helped approve character bios?

((I do believe I would have the say in this, seeing has how its my "job", so to speak.))

((I'm in here about every thirty minutes (i do routine sweeps of my fav forums when i'm working on stuff) And i wouldn't mind doing you guys the favor.))

((Well, by all means, go ahead. You know the general rules, right? Like required age, name, weapon restrictions and so on? If not, just PM me and I'll send you the list and such.))

NG account:Jeffaro
Age:15
Character Name:Jeff
Character age:17
Area:On the roof of a thrift store across from city hall.
Weapons:Beretta Cx4 Storm (Chambered for 9mm rounds) with a detachable 16x scope.
Appearance:5''9,142 lbs,Lean / skinny,Pale skin,Shoulder length dark brown hair(tied at times),Dark brown eyes,Scars on forehead and left cheek,Bloodshot eyes,Dark eyelids(lack of sleep),Black Sneakers,Black Jeans,Black t-shirt,Black trench coat,Black backpack (for supplies) and a black bandana that covers half his face.
Brief Bio:Jeff is a juvenile who had spent most of his life in correctional facilities and mental hospitals.He finally escaped at age 16.He hitched hiked,worked under the table,stole and did what else he could do to survive while trying to remain disconnected from society.

Chaz picked up his ringing phone.

Chaz: Hello?
Kerma: Chaz, something is wrong with Lila.
Chaz: what happened?
Kerma: I told her about the black smog, and she freaked and threw a lamp at me. I'm currently bleeding on the floor.
Kerma: What the F-
Lila:AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Then with sudden stop, the phone cut out.

Little did Chaz know, a monster pack was flocking through the sawmill.

((Ok, I've been patient, I've been waiting, and the story has been at a standstill. Unless there are outright objections in the next 10 minutes I am going to write the City Hall segment.))

After the last segment of his memory passed by, Sgt Danny found himself surrounded by darkness. The figures sitting on the benches around him disappered. Slowly, a dim red light seemed to grow out of nowehere.

Allowing his eyes to adjust to the new light, Danny saw he was inside some kind of confined space. Men with full 'crash' assault armour and loaded weapons sat either side of him, more dressed in a smiliar manner to the front. The entire room seemed to be filled with a humming sound, the whump-whump-whump a familiar tone.

Danny realised he must be inside of a helicopter now, vividly living his memory from before he woke up in the city. An ear piece was lodged in his ear, the quiet hiss of radio static filling his sense of hearing.

Suddenly, a crackled, American voice spoke over the intercomm. "Two minutes to LZ.." Realising he had the direct connection to the pilot over his micro-ear, Danny worked out that he was the chief NCO of the assault party. "Two Minutes!" he shouted out, holding two fingers up to ensure everyone got the message.

Everyone onboard started checking their weapons, thumbs clicking off the safety catches. Danny did likewise, pulling back the bolt of his M4A1 Carbine to check for blockages. The comforting view of a round sitting cleanely in the reciever of the rifle steeled Danny's nerves. Letting go of the bolt, he then brought his thumb up to the safety catch, clicking it off and setting the rifle to semi-automatic.

Remembering the briefing, Danny realised he'd be assaulting a building, fighting off potentially infected humans. Double tap to the chest, one to the head, that should be enough to floor the bastards. Going inside a building with innocent VIPs would mean auto-fire was out of the question, regardless of the sheer waste of ammo automatic fire brought about.

"One minute.." the voice called over once more. Standing up in the middle of the helicopter's interior, Sgt Danny signalled to the men beside the doors, pointing two fingers out to signal to 'open'.

The men did so, tossing out ropes while they were at it. It was time for the fast rope descent. "Stand-by!" Danny called out, holding the two fingers upwards in the s'tand-by' signal. "Drop, drop drop!" the pilot's voice cried out.

"Go, go-go!" Danny shouted, pointing out to the doors as the men started to clip themselves to the rope and jump. Sliding down, each of the assaulters landed on the roof of a large building. It was one of the offices of the G-Tech corporation, involved in the manufacture of the anti-bodies that had turned normal humans into mindless rabid brutes. Inside, two scientists were huddled up, waiting to be rescued from their 'subjects', as well as their fellow scientists, caught up in the outbreak and infected themselves.

As the last man, Danny followed the team down, landing on the ground and unclipping himself with a punch to the chest-rig. Swinging his carbine to his hands, Danny looked around, his team assembled in an outwards facing circle while they waited for the chopper to leave...

...The next memory Danny had was of a darkened corridor, the flash of rifle discharges going off. Rounds cracked as they richoceted (sp?) off the walls, screams and growling serving to add to the confusion. Instictively, Danny knew he was inside the building. His rifle extended a laser outwards, night vision goggles fitted over his face illuminating the scene.

The team had come across more infected subjects then they had anticipated. They had been ordered to contain the area and extract on the roof by HQ, leaving the scientists to their fate. The team was needed at the main gate, where the city's residents had slowly begun to trickle to. It appeared people were realising they were trapped inside, but for what reason Danny doubted they knew.

But it was no time for worrying about that. Snapping off a few rounds, Danny lead the remanants of his team backwards, moving ever closer to the roof. Aproaching a door, Danny cried out in anger and grief as he failed to open it. He was running low on ammunition, most of the magazines he was carrying empty. Soon, all he'd have left would be his pistol and a few mags of 9mm. Banging against the door with all his strength, Danny continued to fight against his team's doom.

More and more operators ran out of rounds, changing to their pistols. Some went 'berzerke', pulling out their knifes and running at the incoming crowd. Brave, but futile. Crashing through the door, Danny eventually called the remaining two members of his team through. They had to wait for the 'helo' or they'd be trapped. Firing off the last few rounds he had left, the sergeant gulped as his men reached the 'dead man's click'. After the two were taken down by the infected, the Brit slowly backed off to the edge of the building's roof.

"Fuck it, I'm not going to be killed by you scum...." It was a six story fall to the street level, so he'd either break a few limbs, or die from smashing his head open, but Sergeant Danny preffered the idea of taking control of his own death. Tossing aside his rifle, Danny grinned. He knew what he had to do. Leaping backwards, the SAS sergeant was overcome with a sensation of floating, falling down rapidly into the waiting black....

"Jesus Christ!" Danny shouted out, lurching forwards from the wall he was against. Sweat covered his face, running into his eyes and stinging them. Looking around, Danny saw the faces of the people gathered there. Jak he knew, but the others?...

He could remember everything now... The infected, what they were. His mission... The containment of the city, and his orders to get back to the wall and help contain the city at all costs... Why he was knocked out, why he had lost his rifle... Everything. "Jak.... Where the fuck are we, mate?"

((Okay, here comes City Hall))

City Hall stood in the southern end of the New Downtown district, on the border of old downtown. It was built at the same time as the other buildings in downtown, and looked the same as well. Red Bricks, about 8 stories tall, a nice large parking lot with shrubberies on the front end of the building and edges of the parking lot. Its windows were now boarded up pretty well, with frightened eyes peering out through the gaps.

Ben drove into sight of this building, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the new downtowns concrete high rises, and began to assess the situation. Ben could see the parking lot, and it was plainly thrown upon him why the cops were in such hot water. The parking lot, and surrounding streets, were completely covered with stalkers, this massive pack was about the same size as the one in the strip-mall back in the suburbs, and in one foul swoop it had returned a whole slew of bad memories. Ben drove up, stopped a good distance away, and got out of the Jag, rifle on his back, shotgun in his hand, and the Uzi from the ganbanger at Peter's house in his jacket.

"Hey, who's that?" asked one of the cops. There were two cops on the roof, armed with a couple of SWAT sniper rifles, they had set up a good position facing out over the parking lot. The one who had asked the question, a Mr. Darrel Jones, had just noticed Ben pulling up and quietly getting out of his car.
"Hell if I know Jones, but keep your scope on him just in case," replied the other cop, Hank Wagner, now standing up from the lawn chair he had dragged up to the roof, taking his rifle, and getting in position.
"Whoever that guy is, he's got a rifle like us." said Darrel. Ben indeed had a rifle and had taken it off of his back.

Ben put the rifle onto the hood of his car and looked through the scope into the throng of stalkers out in front of City Hall. "Shit" he whispered. The stalkers were trying to rip the boards off of the front windows and doors, stumbling over each other to get to the front. Ben noticed that about one in every twenty of these 1000 or so stalkers could work his hands almost as well as a human being. They were mostly using them to try and pry off the boards nailed to the entrances. [The leaders maybe?] Ben thought as he took out a clip of hollow-points and stuck it into the rifle. Ben pulled the bolt back, up, down, and forward loading a round into the barrel. Then he picked out a target, a rather large and ripped stalker beginning to make progress on one of the boards at one of the windows. Ben aimed carefully for the things swaying head, held until it stumbled backwards a bit from losign its grip on the board, clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger. PKEEEW, the things face spewed off onto the board in a bloody explosion. Ben picked another target, pulled again, and got similar results.

"Is he, trying to save us?" Hank asked with doubt in his voice.
"I heard the chief say something about getting in radio contact with some dude, maybe this is him."
"Well if he manages to single handedly kill every last one of these, things, then I don't know what."
"Oh shit!" cried Darrel. He noticed something that caused both his and Hank's blood run cold.

"OH SHIT!" Ben screamed. One of those more intelligent stalkers had heard the gunshots and had been looking around to see where it was coming from, and had found Ben. He had worked his way to the back of the mob. The stalker let out a fierce growl and about 20 other stalkers suddenly turned to him, and then to Ben. "Mother Fucker," cursed Ben under his breath as he began to change the clip. The pack of stalkers were now advancing on him, shambling towards him hungrily. "Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit," whispered Ben with each step they took towards him. His hands were shaking now, making it especially difficult to reload, and the pack were only about 25 feet away now, rounding a five car pileup. Then, out of the blue, Ben heard a rifle shot and saw one of the stalkers now moving on him's head explode. Then another shot and another kill. Ben's head jerked up, and he saw a flash from the roof of City Hall, then another bang and another dead stalker. He shook it off and grabbed his prized shotgun, which had three buck-shells in it, clicked off the safety and shot the closest stalker in the chest. It nearly split into two from the shell, leaving it sprawled out about 10 feet from Ben, its entrails in a bloody pile where its torso used to be.

"Got another one Darrel, just admit it, you can't keep up," joked hank as he took another shot, "no one can keep up with the master fool. Shit, I must be the motherfucking chosen one."
"Stow it, we got more company," said Darrel, looking off to the left as two men came running down the street, totting SMG's.
"Wha-, where did they come from?" asked Hank. "Shit they must of been hiding behind one of those pileups, damn, what do we do now? Who do we cover?"
"Well Mr. Chosen one you keep our friend out there by the Jag safe, and I'll help these new guys."
Hank said absently, "Isn't that . . ."
"Shut up and keep shooting!"

Ben had taken down about five of them now, and his mysterious friend had gotten rid of about eight of them, as far as Ben could see, as he reloaded his shotgun, he had the situation under control. Then there was a rattle from behind him, he looked and saw a diet coke can roll past him, and the stalker who had set these damn blood hounds on him in the first place chasing after it. Ben tried to get his gun up, got about halfway, and then got knocked to the ground with the stalker on top of him. Ben held it up by the neck, trying to keep the damn things mouth off of him while it scratched at him with its hands. He managed to toss it off of him to the right side and then struggled to get up, shaking furiously. [Oh shit, oh shit, goddammit, Christ, shit!] he thought as he stumbled backwards away from it, now rising to its feet. Ben heard more rifle shots, and then saw in the corner of his eye one of the remaining stalkers drop. [Dammit what do I do?] Ben thought as he slowly began to back away from the thing, now slowly approaching him. Then it flung itself at him, causing them to lock their arms together, beginning to dance the deadly dance of a wrestler.

"Fuck, I can't get a clear shot!" Hank yelled. Ben was now trying to shake the thing off of him while the stalker was trying to get close enough to bite him.
"Well what the fuck are you telling me for. Screw him for now and help me over here!" Darrel shouted.

Ben and the stalker were spinning around, locked together for about five minutes when Ben finally managed to get a hand free. The stalker jerked forward trying to bit in the shoulder when Ben brought his knee up into the creatures chin. It flew backward, landed on its back and slid about 6 inches before it began to struggle to it's feet. Ben quickly reached into his coat, grabbed the Uzi, sprinted up to it, brought the Uzi down to its face and fired 4 times. The stalker went made the last jerks of life, soiled itself, and then went limp. Ben was panting fiercly, and stood there for about a minute trying to get his breath under control. [I am alive, I am alive, I AM ALIVE!] he keep told himself. After getting the pant down a bit he noticed that there was machine gun fire in the distance. He took one more look at the stalker and then returned to the Jag.

Through the rifle scope Ben could see two men with SMGs hosing down the right side of the legion of stalkers. Ben saw the flashes on the roof as well. "Fuck it," he sighed out and tossed the rifle into the back seat of his car. Then he picked up his prized, ornamental shotgun, stowed the Uzi in his coat once more, and got into the driver seat.

"What's that noi-, Holy Shit!" shouted Hank. "Is He, HOLY SHIT!" Ben was driving through the crowd of stalkers toward the two men with the SMGs, leaving a small path behind him, slowly disappearing in the anxious throng of stalkers chasing after his car.
"No fucking way," whispered Darrel. Even the two men with the SMGs stopped for a moment. The crowd of stalkers was reduced to about half now, thanks to the combined eff-

-Orts of the three parties, and was dropping rapidly. The Jag was doing maybe forty, and was killing the stalkers with an efficiency that neither other group in this fray could do. There was no doubt that the car was totaled, it would require severe repair and cleaning to get the bloody dents out of the hood, but still it pressed on at a steady, speedy pace. Pretty soon the few remaining stalkers were chasing after the Jag, now driving in little circles around the parking lot. They were being picked off one by one by the police snipers and the two men with the SMGs, now firing on single shot. Finally, with the last stalker dead, the Jag rolled to a slow, wheezy halt, shaking like a car on a country road from all the corpses littering the ground. Ben got out, carefully stepping around the bodies, got his rifle out of the back seat, and walked ahead to meet the two men approaching him. "Buddy, I don't know who you are but I'm glad to know you, my names Nick." he offered his hand to Ben, and Ben shook it.

About 10 minutes later the 3 of them, Ben, Nick, and Andy, were walking down a hallway in City Hall to the lobby, which the chief had been using as the main meeting room. Their escort led them to the front of the room beside the chief, Orville Stipps, who had already begun to speak. "Never again can we let shit get that bad, people. Guys like these aren't going to be around forever, not with whats going on in this city!" he said to his 40 or so men arranged casually about the lobby.
"What do you mean?" asked Ben, sounding sort of out of place.
"Your voice . . . ah you and I spoke on the radio earlier, Orville Stipps pleased to meet you!" he said enthusiastically as he shook Ben's hand vigorously. "Nick, your partners waiting upstairs, you and, umm . . ."
"Andy,"
"Yes Andy, can go and see him right away. Greg if you would?" the escort nodded and led them upstairs. "Now this man, Ben Freeman is it?" Ben nodded. "Is a prime example of what I like to call accomplisher type, Get things done, you know? He will be in high demand."
"What are you talking about?" Ben asked.
"I took a few courses in Sociology in college and am just talking about the state of the city."
"What about the state of the city, its filled with bloodthirsty monsters stalking this perma-night shrouding us from above. Its sorounded by military blockades, there are Ganbangers stealing people away-"
"Aha, you know about the gangs then?"
"Ya they took my friend Peter."
"Well maybe you should just listen to what I have to say." Ben stood silently. "Now is seems the City has been broken into four factions." Orville said, addressing Ben as much as the rest of his men. "There are us, the remnants of the law enforcement, the military, the ganbangers and some cult. We own most of new downtown, plus we have little precincts all over the city keeping an eye on things. It seems to me like we are the last bit of rationality this city has Mr. Freeman, since the rest of the factions are pretty crazy. The Gangs of this town were nearly extinct before the plague hit us, then afterwards they come out of hiding from us, crawling out of tenements and ghetto neighborhoods and start capturing people, press ganging them into service. They have their shit together, they have guns, techies, and a strong leader, not to mention most of the old downtown district."
"Techies?" Ben asked cautiously.
"Yes, technological no how has replaced currency, Mr. Freeman, if you know how to hot-wire a car or jump start an electrical generator, then you are valuable. IF your an accomplishment type, meaning you can get things done your valuable also since it seems most people in the city don't know what to do since the plague hit. Anyhow, the gangs have mechanics tricking out cars, technicians putting guns back together and electricians getting the lights on. They have the trains running on time, Mr. Freeman, and they have taken to capturing people and using them as raw labor to help keep the trains running on time. Whatever plan they have it needs a lot of labor.
"Now the cult I mentioned seems to be based in the commercial area, a bunch of fucking religious nuts calling this the end of the world, the rapture. Aside from Gang and police radio chatter about all you can hear is radio preaching. They have a lot of people in those skyscrapers, and are very mysterious, I don't have any idea what they are planning but all I know is that last time I drove by one of their roadblocks there were a few bullets flying my way.
"The military is a no brainier though, they want to keep us in until we all die or something, all I know is that their the only thing keeping us in this hellhole, and it seems just about everyone in the city, faction affiliated or not, zombie thing-"
"I've been calling them stalkers."
"Stalkers, alright, or human. All any of us want to do is escape. Damn military has our best best cut off, SAM missile emplacements to stop planes and helicopters, coast guard blockade to stop boats, hell the best bet is by land."
"Thats alot to think about Mr. Stipps, do you think I could get a bed for the night to think it over, its been a long couple of days."
"No problem," the chief said thoughtfully, motioning for one of his men to lead him away. The man got up and gave Ben a pat on the pack, and let him upstairs.

As they were walking Ben noticed a big group photograph on the wall. He stopped for a moment to look at it, and noticed someone familiar. Their were about 100 men all in a big group on some bleachers of an indoor basketball court, cops by the look of it, one of them, on the left edge of the group, looked so much like someone Ben had seen before, but he couldn't think of who. Then it hit him. "Who is this man?" he said urgently.
"Uhhh, thats Ricky Frillings," he replied. "Went out a few days ago to get his family to a safe place, hasn't been back since."
"Well that makes sense since he's dead on my kitchen floor." Ben said coldly, "He was carrying this." He reached into his coat and pulled out the picture of Ricky and his family.

((The more i see of you chicky, the more i like you. Ya seem like a nice guy. Shalak, that was awesome. gotta love that last line: "Where the fuck are we mate?" That killed me.))
((what season is this occuring in? I'm writing generally, but if it's the middle of witer, this ones gonna need some adaptation to it...))

Lila: They're coming!!!!
Kerma: Shutup and get me off the floor.
While Lila Picked Kerma up off the floor, their attention went right to the flock of monsters. It was like a swarm of bees. Clinging on to everything in their path, the monsters were tearing through the camp at rapid pace.

Kerma: we have no time to waste. I would normally kill all of these, but I am not as powerful as when I was alive.
ROAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!
A monster teared right through the tent, with Kerma and Lila running in opposite directions. All of the sudden, a car ran over Kerma and a couple monsters. Screeching to a halt, the driver got out.
Klocks: Kerma! how are you?!?!!?
Kerma: Not so great, hotshot.
Klocks: well SOOORY.

Breif bio:
Name: Klocks
Age: 21
Weapon: A shotgun, from his hunting days.
Clothing: bloodstained vest
Before the monsters: Was friend of Kerma, worked as a professional hunter

Klocks: Behind you.
BAM!
Lila: wow, you took that calmly.
Klocks: Into my car, we need to meet up with the others in city hall.

Sgt. Danny: "Jak.... Where the fuck are we, mate?"

Jak: Hm?

Jak turned from the table as he heard the clatter of metalic tools tumbling to the dirty concrete floor, and Dan's voice ring out in the solemnly quite room. It had been hours since Jak had arrived, and they'd gone through dozens of card games, all of which June had won. Since the time Jak and Sgt. Danny had arrived, Jak had had Big D set his shoulder back in place after several minutes of grunting and throbbing pain, made especially hard due to the stiffened muscles in the area. His shoulder was still sore, the muscles cramped and stiff, but he figured it would wear off by tomorrow.

He twisted his torso to face Danny, who now was sitting up straight on the work bench.

Jak: Finally your awake, jeeze, I've been carrying your heavy ass all over town while you get a good nights rest.

Dan was rubbing his brow while he looked at the ground, possibly from a headache, or he was just rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He jumped off of the high work table and crossed to the area where the foresome sat, a hand of cards already splayed out.

Sgt. Danny: So is there anything to eat in this place?
Jak: Uh, ya I think I saw a sandwich of some sort in the fidge back there.

As Jak lifted heavily off the chair he crossed the large room, ducking around and under large machines and lumber half cut in two. He went into a small boxed in area, surrounded by plexi-glass to form what he figured to be the lunchroom.

D: To answer your question from earlier though, we're in the local Sawmill.

Gripping a massive hand on the stainless steel fridge handle Jak tugged lightly with his right arm. He felt the small door giveway from it's magnetic seal and open to the treasures inside. There were a few tubaware boxes, most empty except for one with a small slice of white cake. There was also several plastic wrapped sandwiches and 2 sodas, another Fago, and a Coke.

Jak held the door tentetively (SP?) with his left shoulder as he put; the slice of cake, two sandwiches, and the sodas in his shirt, which he held like a pounch with his right arm. He kicked the old refridgerator door lightly so it slammed shut and made his way back to the table, via dodging all the former obsticales. Dumping the contents onto the rickidy table, he spotted something that made his mind grin. Across the room, not far away, was what looked to be a sledge hammer, but it was shorter, and had a metal wedge for a head. It was obviously very new, the tip was somewhat sharpened to a dull 'edge', and on the backside of the head, was a good sized spike, excellent for splitting 'wood'.

After retrieving the weapon, he help it in both of his open plams, feeling the weight. Then dropping it to one hand, it was the perfect balance and weight for melee, one handed, close combat, weapon. He dropped the head into his palm and looked up to the rest of the group.

Jak: So what are we going to do? I mean, we can't just hide out here, all the food and guns I had gathered were lost when my truck broke down.

At 3/24/08 09:35 PM, Swordstick76 wrote: ((The more i see of you chicky, the more i like you. Ya seem like a nice guy. Shalak, that was awesome. gotta love that last line: "Where the fuck are we mate?" That killed me.))
((what season is this occuring in? I'm writing generally, but if it's the middle of witer, this ones gonna need some adaptation to it...))

((Liked my City Hall segment did you? I just tried to make it live up to all the build-up. Also I think the season doesn't matter for as I've described it its a sort of perma-night, some sort of military thing to keep civilian planes away I imagine, so the weather is dark, cloudy, spooky, and chilly, like fall.

Ben's sleep at City Hall that night was not an easy one, for it was constantly plagued with dreams of the man he now knew to be Ricky Frillings. It began back at his house, in his kitchen. Ben was sitting at his kitchen table and Ricky leaning up against the sink in full uniform, badge number 151.
Ricky began to speak, he had a resigned depression in his voice. "Ben, you must lead them, time is running out."
"Lead who, and what do you mean time is running out." Ben asked.
"You must lead them, for a month from now time will have run out."
"Whats going to happen in one month Ricky?"
"I can't say for sure, only that it will be the end of you all."
"But why must I lead, I mean, Christ, a few days ago I was just a writer struggling to write a short novel and then I wake up and its like BAM, I have to do this and that."
"I didn't want you to be the one, Ben, lets leave it at that. Now come on, time is wasting." Ricky got up off the sink and walked to the corner of the kitchen, shrouded in darkness. Ben got up out of the chair and followed him. There was more than the corner of a room in his kitchen tonight, it was also the entrance to some tunnel apparently. As he looked back he saw that his kitchen was gone, and his only option was to head forward, into the darkness of the tunnel.

Ben walked down the rocky little corridor, which had about a 10 foot ceiling, and was about 6 feet wide, with a fairly flat floor and digging equitment strewn all around it. Shovels, pickaxes, jackhammers, hammers and chisels, all of them lie abandoned on the floor of this tunnel.
"What is this place Ricky?" Ben asked the darkness.
The shadows replied, "The way out, the man shrouded in black who leads those who steal life built it. It is still being built, but the shadow man is growing impatient, he knows the end comes near so he puts the whip to his slaves in these pits like the egyptians put the whip to the jews on their pyramids."
"Slaves . . . the gangbangers? Is this their plan, their way out of here?"
"Yes, their master is the shadow man, you must lead them Ben, lead them against the shadow man."
"Why me?" Ben begged, but Ricky's voice did not answer his question but merely continued.
"You must come here, like Moses went to Egypt, and you must free his slaves, for this is the only way out. You must defeat the shadow man for time is running out, 30 days, and then the end." Ricky appeared to Ben at the end of the tunnel, and motioned for Ben to follow him. Ben jogged down the tunnel after Ricky and found that at the end there was a door, a very nice cherrywood door with a golden knob, Ben pulled it open and stepped inside.

There, on the other side of the door was a large meeting room, in the center sat a large, round table about 12 feet in diameter, the edges were covered with a fine, red leather, and 8 men sat around it in easy chairs. Behind one of them stood Ricky. They all wore pinstripe suits with ties, and small crosses were pinned to the collars of their jackets. One of them, the man who was infront of Ricky began to speak. He had long red hair and a long beard, making him look sort of funny in his suit, but his eyes were intense and his mouth was curled into a hideous grin.
"I have had another vision, my friends, another message from God!" he shouted, his grin spreading long across his face, which seemed to make the others around the table shift uneasily in their chairs. "It showed me that we must stay here, stay until the end! We must remain in this city, now consumed with sin, and sacrafice ourselves like Christ. We must plunge ourselves into purgatory and wait for the hand of God to save us!" he screamed, his faces grin remaining large and dark.
One of the others spoke up, a man with clean cut brown hair. "We can't stay here! We are sourounded by madmen and the army in a city infested with monsters! Surely none of you beleive this insanity?" the others looked shamefully at the table, then looked up again to the man with the red hair, now standing.
"You see? YOU SEE? A Judas among us! He would sew our disent and spell our DOOM! He knows not what I see, and I would forgive him, but there is little time, we must rid ourselves of he who would ruin us from within." The man's grin grew larger still, his clean white teeth sparkling in the light of the candles around the table.
"Don't bother throwing me out, I'm leaving. This is a madhouse, I can;t beleive you expect me to get the lights back on in conditions like this, well I;m going." The man got up and headed towards the door, just as his hand touched the knob there was a gun shot, and he dropped to the floor, beginning to go into the jerks of death, and then defecating. The man with the red hair had a revolver in his hand, and his grin was larger than ever.
"Drag him to the street and crucify him, make him an example, we must follow the will of god!" He screamed. One of the other men spoke now.
"But how do we keep the others in the city form leaving?" said a man with black, curly hair nervously while two of the others began to pick up the dead man's body.
"God will find a way, God will find a way." said the grinning man, putting his revolver on the table.

((I'll finish this up later but I really have to go.))

((hey everyone, quick job here...))

Michael was very glad that Yonie had made him wear these army uniforms. Sure, they weren't camouflaged, but they were a dark green which was pretty damn close. These clothes on his back had probably saved him several times, they were ideal for hiding in the foliage. Yonie hid maybe 6 feet ahead, torso propped up on a tree, sleeping with a gun in his hands. It would almost be comical if wasn't so goddamn scary. And where was that goddamn bitch that shot him in the leg? Michael could see most every which way, but he couldn't see her anywhere around... That was probably a bad thing, she might shoot him in the leg again. Though, Michael mused, you had to admit that she was pretty damn cute... wow, that was a sick thought, what was he, kinda pedafile? The chick only looked about 13! Sick!
"Hey." Darby poked out her head and whispered. "You ok?"
Michael jumped out of his skin. This girl had nearly made him shit his pants, no joke at all. "Don't you have the decency to not sneak up on me in a situation where I'm so tense? You mighta killed me!" he whispered fiercely. "I'm ok, thanks for asking though." His features softened as he realized that she actually gave a shit. But he soon freaked out mentally, knowing he was quick on his way to pedophilia! And what about Rachel? Rachel, who he had abandoned to die simply because he would be abandoned to die if he had not. He missed his scarred but perfect beauty. He sighed. He missed Rachel. She had to be alive. Yes, that was it, she couldn't not be alive. She was alive, and that was that.
"Hey! Are you gonna stand there or are you let me take over guard duty?" whispered Darby.
"Oh yeah. Have fun."
Michael "pretended" to go to sleep in a small hallow in the ground. Really, he just watched Darby's small, tight, form as she kept guard. He doubted her. Was she really on their side? Did she simply want protection, or was she going to betray them and steal their things? Why was she with them? Why did she shoot him in the leg?

Now would be a good time to find out while she was awake. Yonie always told him to scope out everybody, enemy or not.