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Sorry i won't be able to make the chat becuase of the timezones.You could always pretend i'm there......or not.

Hope you discuss a lot and it'll be great to hear what you've discussed tomorrow.

((First off, I'd like to say that Paltalk is the fucking stupidest thing I've ever seen in my life. I have no damn clue what I'm doing. I set up a private group for us, but it has no chat. Not really.

Okay, here's what we'll do. I want everyone who wants in the chat, which will now be at 9 PM tomorrow night, to set up an account, then PM me your usernames on there. Mine is Blue-Dragon100. I'll invite you into the group.

Second, I want someone to figure out how this service actually works. Do we need to download something? I don't know. If you figure it out, please let me know.

Sorry that I had to bump the date forward by 24 hours, but I lost track of time, and then saw that this website blows. No offense Jak. But it'll do the trick, and all we really need is to talk in real time to figure this shit out.

So, PM me your names, figure this out for me, let me know WTF to do, see you at 9 PM tomorrow.

BTW, we will NOT be using MSN, AIM, ICQ, or anything like that. As I firmly believe they are the spawn of Satan. 'Nuff said.))

I think we need to make a list on who is going to be involved and what job they're going to be doing.It might be best if some sections such as writing are broken down.Eg someone works on background informnation like location and state of peril while others focus on the characters and fighting itself.That way more people can be involved.

Ok.

Well i'm guessing that those involved so far are

Dragon
Target
Chicky
Mr Frost
Myself
..............
Thats the vets covered,anyone else thats participating please say and try say what way you wish to be involved but don't worry if its not a major thing because every little helps.

(Guys! Sorry about the absence, just finished a vacation to Vegas, and a long trip to Florida. It'll be a while before I get a house and internet, so I'm sorry, I can't catch this get together. Tell me what you cook up, and I'll shoot in my own ideas about the process. I'm really sorry, and hope to get back in it soon.))

Age-13

Character Name-Johnny Stretch

Character age-13

Place-Hospital

Weapons-2 Uzis, and Brass Knuckles

Appearance-Brass Knuckles on his hands, cool sunglasses to cover the strange scar that resembles an X over his eye, and a school bookbag which has bullets and 2 uzis.

Bio-Johnny woke up, laying in a hospital bed, there was a note laying on his chest, it read: Fire or a trauma may defeat the beasts, but if you don't look out, on your soul they shall feast. Johnny was confused. He suddenly realized a bookbag was on his back. He took it off and opened it up. He gave an evil smile as he saw the 2 uzis, the uzi bullets, and a set of brass knuckles. He strapped the brass knuckles on his hands and said, "Time for business."

Johnny looked outside one of the hospital windows. He saw these strange creatures. Then he saw a large group of men try to get through them. Some men got through, others got caught. Johnny realized that when they got caught, they turned into one of them.

???-So Mr. Stretch, your finally awake!

Johnny-Huh? Who's there!

Johnny got his brass knuckles ready for a fight!

At 7/14/08 08:22 PM, crazyawesome20 wrote: Johnny looked outside one of the hospital windows. He saw these strange creatures. Then he saw a large group of men try to get through them. Some men got through, others got caught. Johnny realized that when they got caught, they turned into one of them.

???-So Mr. Stretch, your finally awake!

Johnny-Huh? Who's there!

Johnny got his brass knuckles ready for a fight!

Sorry buddy but you can't just join this RpG.You're character description needs to be looked over by an older member and you have to be briefed on the story so far.Wait a day or so and someone should reply about yuor sescription and post.

At 7/15/08 09:41 AM, Misumena wrote: Sorry buddy but you can't just join this RpG.You're character description needs to be looked over by an older member and you have to be briefed on the story so far.Wait a day or so and someone should reply about yuor sescription and post.

Actually, i have been waiting quite a while about approval. My computer went down a short while ago and I couldn't make a post like this sooner. I would love for someone to check my character description and get breifed on the rules.

there doesn't seem to be much RPing going on here lately.

At 7/14/08 07:57 PM, crazyawesome20 wrote: Age-13

Character Name-Johnny Stretch

Stretch? Never heard of that before...but I don't see how it matters.

Character age-13

17+

Place-Hospital

Where is this hospitol located? Why are you there?

Weapons-2 Uzis, and Brass Knuckles

God no, this is so cool all fuckin' original and awsome. No, duel Uzis submachine guns are so original it makes me sick when people use them. They don't even have a practical purpose, unless you explain why you would have such costly weapons I think you should pick something better suited.

Brass knuckles...sure, but they are still not practical, what purpose do they even serve?

Looks like you're just trying to make a cool god character, it's not about being an invinsible person and looking cool, it's about roleplaying survival.

Appearance-Brass Knuckles on his hands, cool sunglasses to cover the strange scar that resembles an X over his eye, and a school bookbag which has bullets and 2 uzis.

An X scar over his eye, sooo original, I hate to dis' on your character but you found just about every single thing that most of us loathe (meaning hate with passion), unless you make a really good explaination as to why he has this scar so close to his eye then I would possibly move it or just get rid of it.

This doesn't have enough detail anyway, start from the top. Hair color/ style, eye color, skin tone, ethnic background (what race are you?), distinct facial features (squinted eyes, crooked nose, etc), clothes (shirt, pants, shoes, etc.), body build, hieght/wieght. Cover as much as possible. Look at my profile to see mine for an example.

Bio-Johnny woke up, laying in a hospital bed, there was a note laying on his chest, it read: Fire or a trauma may defeat the beasts, but if you don't look out, on your soul they shall feast. Johnny was confused. He suddenly realized a bookbag was on his back. He took it off and opened it up. He gave an evil smile as he saw the 2 uzis, the uzi bullets, and a set of brass knuckles. He strapped the brass knuckles on his hands and said, "Time for business."

Does he have a past, did he forget it? Past life can explain alot about a character and give it depth. What does the inside of the hospitol room look like, are there sounds, smells, sensory details are the biggest part of a RP. Nice poem, but I see what you're thinkin' this is not the zombie story right now. We finished that and right now we are in a different story, go to Chickidow's siggy to find the story we are on right now.

People don't just wake up in a hospitol out of nowhere, with no recollection of where he was or what is happening, then look into a mysterious backpack strapped to his back to find weapons given by some stranger and decide that he needs to go kick somebody's ass. They just don't, they would be confused as Hell, would probably go investigate where they are and try to get a handle on the situation. Human mentality is the other big part.

Try again with as much work as possible.

At 7/3/08 10:28 PM, CynicalScythe wrote: Name:

I'd rather have you have a real name, I just can't see someone named CynicalScythe, maybe something that sounds like it, or a name that you like, Hell could even use your own. Maybe Cid Marks, doesn't matter, as long as it sounds real.

Age: Sixteen

17+, kick it up a notch, keep in mind I think my character and most of everyone else is about in the 20s, I think... but that's your choice.

Appearance: Longsleeve black, zip up hoody when appropriate (temperature wise), and if it is not, is usually seen in a white long sleeve shirt (sleeves rolled up or not, again depending on the teperature, or task at hand) and light blue jeans.

Good.

He has laceless shoes, that are solid gray, and hte outside is a fabric with a black skull printed on both feet.

What type of shoes may I ask? Like rugged, boot shoes, tennis-shoes, mostly just to see how situated with the environment your character is and w/e.

One tattoo (signed for by his mother for his sixteeth birthday) the head of a rose, with the letters KRV in the center, full color, on the right deltiod.

Where is this tattoo located? What do the letters stand for?

Black short hair, dark brown eyes, that look brown unless light hits them directly. A bout 5'11" and 185 lbs, solidly built, but relatively lean. Has olive color skin.

Body build? You siad lean but solid, so is he mostly muscle, or is there something about his body to make up for wieght? Olive color skin? Olive as in green, how dark a tan does he have, what's his ethnic background?

Equipment: Beige backpack full of junk food from a looted gas station. a medium size crowbar stained with blood.

Good

Skills: Has taken three years of kickboxing, and two of mixed martial arts (after watching UFC fights) knows how to cook, and has rudamentary navagational skills,

Good

Personality: Dry cynical sarcastic. Usually the first to point at fat people and laugh. Has a strong mentality of "i'm not trying to hurt thier feelings, its just funny, and i like to laugh" Realizes the gravity of most situations, but on the outside refuses to treat them that way. Jokes around about a lot. No stranger to morbidity, and doesn't flinch much at the sight of blood and guts. Has a massive soft spot for girls, often letting chivalry over come good sense. Has a huge respect for girls, instilled by living with his mother, and three sisters, with little influence from his brother and father. Often takes some actions seen as feminine to comfort women. Around men he has a live and let live policy. doens't try to take anything or bother anyone, and expects reciprocation.

Good

Bio:Grew up pretty upper low class. not alot of money, because of the insane about of children in his house (of varying ages) likes to listen to people with problems, and always shown a tendency towards being a social worker, or psychologist.

That's an OK background, but could you tell me a little about what his current situation is? Where is he, how did he get there, where is his family, why is he where he is, sights, smells, sounds?

Location: I believe the last time i joined we had to pick a european country or something a long those lines? If i can stick with the UK thats fine, but thats easily fixed depending on any changed rules there might have been

Thats another thing guys. Last time i was here was almost last year, so any changes in rules or whatnot, please let me know.

Haha, look in Chickidy's siggy to find the new story we have, it's alot different than the zombies.

I apologize for making you wait, everyone has been so busy that you got overlooked. Fix just some of the minor things and have fun. Welcome to the RP!

To the rest of the crew, somebody get us moving! Chickidy do something like you always do lol, whoever was taking us to NY jump us there, so we can get this show the road!

Sorry about my inactivity, its just shits happening fast and I lost the feeling, I'll get on this weekend and try to get stuff moving again.

At 7/15/08 10:40 PM, JakFro5t wrote: I'd rather have you have a real name, I just can't see someone named CynicalScythe, maybe something that sounds like it, or a name that you like, Hell could even use your own. Maybe Cid Marks, doesn't matter, as long as it sounds real.

By real name I meant "James Urbina" i was wondering if i could keep that name that i used on my old character, isnce it is my real name.

17+, kick it up a notch, keep in mind I think my character and most of everyone else is about in the 20s, I think... but that's your choice.

I'll keep it at a nice round 18.

What type of shoes may I ask? Like rugged, boot shoes, tennis-shoes, mostly just to see how situated with the environment your character is and w/e.

Slip on shoes, they aren't very rugged, and dont offer much protection, but he's not the type to be doing hard labor in and out. He's the type to try and stay as comfortable as possible.

Where is this tattoo located? What do the letters stand for?

By right deltiod, i meant the upper part of the right arm, where it meets the shoulder. The letters stand for his mothers, brother's and sisters, first initial. respectively. The rose its self represents the name "Rosa" which has been passed down through his family.

Body build? You siad lean but solid, so is he mostly muscle, or is there something about his body to make up for wieght? Olive color skin? Olive as in green, how dark a tan does he have, what's his ethnic background?

He's mostly muscle, though you can only really see the slightest hint of it in his torso. You can tell its right under the surface but he does have a layer of fat. Olive not as in green but as in the tan color. its a mildly dark tan, you can google "olive skin" if you'd like, but be warned, the first thing that comes up is a half naked lady.

That's an OK background, but could you tell me a little about what his current situation is? Where is he, how did he get there, where is his family, why is he where he is, sights, smells, sounds?

He's originally from New Jersy, But he's now staying in subway tunnel in New York, wandering the city. He's with his older brother, Yamil, (pronounced yah-mill). Parents and other siblings are dead. They live off of other people. Preying on them, stealing from them, muggings and such. Its the only way they can survive. The subway has the rails damaged, so its no good, so no trains pass through very often.

if someone goes ahead and approves this, i'll go ahead and start RPing right away. I've already got a few ideas.

((Sorry for the delay, I've been busy. Well here we go.))

James sits in the anclove of an abandoned building on Marin Blvd on the outer most edge of Hoboken. The street signs have fallen into disrepair, but he used to have a cousin that lived in in the area. He remembered Marin blvd because its the last place where he knew where he was. He'd always get lost around this point. It was late in the afternoon on a Monday morning, his shift to look out for more supplies. There was a little twang of anger thinking his brother was sitting comfortably on the other side of the Holland tunnel, sitting and eating up the rest of the supplies like he normaly does. This train of thought was intterupted by the sounds of footsteps, struggling and rustling. In other words the sounds of more supplies making their way towards him on the side walk.

He pusehs himself so that he's shielded by the wall of the ancloves, from any passer-by's eyes. He picks up his crowbar and holds it tight. A tall man passes him by without even noticing him. He's wearing dark jeans, a black t shirt with the logo with some probably nonexistant band on the front. He has glasses and dark black hair. He walks behind the man, his soft shoes not making barely any sound, and him being careful to keep them quiet. He lets one of his shoes scrap the pavement, to let the man know he's being followed. He immedietly spins around and draws a gun on him. He shaking furiously, and its obvious he's incredibly nerous. James sticks his hands in the air.

James: You know i have to tell you. This isn't the first time this has happened to me.

Man: SHUT UP!!
His words came out like a desperate scream, and he clutched his bag to him protectively.

James: Relax. Look this is how this goes. You threaten to shoot me if i make a move. Then I make a move. And then we see who's faster.

Man: Huh? Wait be quiet! I -

James takes a baseball style swing at the Man's gun, and connects. The crack of the gunshot echos in his ears. After a quick mental scan of himself, he decides that he's fine. The man fell to the floor and he clutches his right hand. The gun fell a few feet to his right. The Man scrambles for his gun, and stretches out his other hand to grab for it. James is too quick for him and quickly breaks his other hand. He pickes up the gun and continues with the now routine procedure.

James: Both your hands are broken. If you play nice, and give me what you got, i'll splint them for you before i leave.

He walks over to the bag, and starts to stuff the food inside into his backpack.

Man: Please! Dont take that I have-

James: Ah! No! Dont care. You have a little child or wife or whatever. Sorry but i already hate myself for doing this, but trust me, its easier than the alternative. What do you have in your pockets?

Man: I uh...nothing

James: You still have plenty of bones i could break left. What. IN. YOur. Pockets?

He lightened up a bit, and smiled at the end of his last sentence, and the man looked at him in horror.
The man emptied his pockets. After giving him back all the useless personal stuff, he was left wtih a pocket knife, and a small stripped mint. He quickly popped it out of its plastic and into his mouth. He's had a love for minty candies since he wes little. He splints the mans hands as promised, and lets him on his way. He put the gun in the bag. It was a standard barretta. He made a note to keep an eye out for 9mm rounds. He'd probobably cart it off on his brother. He was more the type for guns than he was. He really hated the damn things. IT was getting late and the man he just assaulted was the third for today....that should be enough. The trek across the Holland Tunnel was by no means short. He had better get started.

ng account secondreviewshit

char name: john " domo" staliv
char age :23
area: millatary base
apparince about 6 ft, brown hair,hasel eyes, slightly long hair, wearing full russin (pants shirt gloves etc) camo with gas mask,kevalr vest with helmet over his head
breif bio: just travilng though deadlock when all this shit happoned he was a ex army soilder and works as a hunter in a small local town
weapons: ak47 with 2 clips (not counting one in the gun) and a socom with 1 clip (not counting one in the gun)

At 7/19/08 01:31 AM, secondreviewshit wrote: ng account secondreviewshit

char name: john " domo" staliv
char age :23
area: millatary base
apparince about 6 ft, brown hair,hasel eyes, slightly long hair, wearing full russin (pants shirt gloves etc) camo with gas mask,kevalr vest with helmet over his head
breif bio: just travilng though deadlock when all this shit happoned he was a ex army soilder and works as a hunter in a small local town
weapons: ak47 with 2 clips (not counting one in the gun) and a socom with 1 clip (not counting one in the gun)

personality: calm, fearless (no pussy) willing to risk his life to save/help others he is said to be some what insane and that is the reason he was kicked out of the millatary

((Hey guys, me again. I just have an update regarding Slaps. He has his hands back but with limited use (his ring and pinky fingers aren't working quite right). I have him set-up with one of my old lap-tops and he's yoinking internet from the hospital, so expect him to return/drop-in (somewhat) soon.

And what is all of this about a flash-story of the first section of this RP? Could someone PM me the details? I'm far too lazy to read all your big posts about it and I am interested in this. I could perhaps provide music or something. But that is for a different discussion at a different time.

Again, Slaps is doing fine and he will post in here some time soon (I assume.) ))

I've just written a short section of writing while being bored which could well be the basics for the script for the flash project.It was written quite quickly and isn't extremely long but it might spark some ideas.

Should i post it ffor you guys to see?

At 7/19/08 01:13 PM, Misumena wrote: I've just written a short section of writing while being bored which could well be the basics for the script for the flash project.It was written quite quickly and isn't extremely long but it might spark some ideas.

Should i post it ffor you guys to see?

((Yes. I'm sorry about this Flash shenanigans. PalTalk is shit, I have 20 hours of work this week, my normal being 14, and I don't even need it because there isn't shit-fuck to do. I left an hour early yesterday, and that was after I had done some stuff that I didn't even need to do but did it anyway because I finished all my shit over two hours before the end of my shift.

And if that wasn't bad enough, I didn't get scheduled off for this Thursday, and I fucked NEEDED it because I'm donating blood that day. And after I do so, I feel like shit. So I got that shift reduced by an hour, and no one had better not give my any fucking grief if I'm not up to par that day, considering I'm down over half a pint of blood! I swear to God, if the wound re-opens and I start bleeding, I'm gonna bleed all over the merchandise before I call 911.

Sorry about that bitching, but I needed to get that out of my system. I hate my goddamn job.

Anyways, I've been thinking: Fuck PalTalk. Fuck it. This is what I'm thinking: Everyone involved, I want you to PM me what role you wanna play in the script writing. Once you have your role, you write it out, we put it all together and woo some Flash talent over to us. Then we make Daily Feature and watch the fame role in.))

((RP TIME!!))

Nick sat in the back of the truck given to them by a local who was coming along. He looked around at his companions: Ethan, Tony, Jak, and several others were all coming over to NYC with them. This was gonna be one helluva profit booster, Nick could see that.

"Alright listen up," said Nick, looking around the truck bed. It was being driven by Tony, with Jak riding shotgun, "We're leaving now. It's going to be a very long trip. Best estimates put us in the city in about five-odd days from now. If we run into trouble, it may take longer than a week. We don't have much in the way of supplies, so I'd advise you to tighten your belts for awhile. But no matter what, we're going to have to stop to either buy, barter, scavenge or steal some supplies. We only have enough food and water for about 72 hours, probably less." At this, Nick pointed at the other vehicle in the caravan, another pick-up truck, packed to bursting with food, water, sleeping gear, gasoline, and ammo.

"In the event of trouble, we do our best to avoid conflict. If we can talk or buy our way out, we'll do it. But always keep a firearm loaded, close and handy. And NO ONE will be left behind. But I don't want any heroes either. We're going to fight as a team, or else we'll be picked off, one by one."

"So...any questions before we, to make an appropriate pun, get this show on the road?"

It's great that you're giving blood,it makes you feel really good about yourself.

Well seeing as all the vets will have something to do with the script,i think it's best that we create a loose story before any actual writing has begun.

We must define and make clear:

When and where the story will be set.(We could always start from scratch with a fresh idea.)

How many main characters?(characters which probably won't die)

What is going to happen to our surviving citizens?(Save city,kill things etc)

Who will deal with what?(Certain aspects on helping with the creation of the flash.(I know for a fact that ManMadeKing would gladly help with music for the flash which is great)

Who will try and convince some flash artists to take up the project?(We could vote)

I'm sure there are other things to discuss about the project.So hopefully once some of these questions are answered.....those problems can be dealt with also.

I know Blue said PM him about jobs but seeing as he's going to be a bit stressed with the lots of work and giving blood,don't be afraid to talk to me because i'm doing nothing of any importance the next week and will be able to deal with at least soem questions.

There you go Blue,your life just got a little bit easier.Good luck with giving blood.

((Allright I think its about time to continue with my character))

James walks into the dark dank subway that he lives in. He quickly noticed several things at once. The lights where out, and there where no sounds of movement. He knew that his footsteps had been loud enough that if someone is down there, would have heard him coming, but his brother didn't show up like he normally does to check the loot. He decides that it can only be one thing. Yamil was hiding and gonna to ambush him as a joke. He decended the stairs just as he had before, so that his brother wouldn't think he knew. As he reached all the way to the bottom, he grabbed for the flash light they kept on a pile of boxes and clicked it on. The flashlight cast a very dim light on the wall. It was coming from a post it note on the front of the flashlight. He removed the note and looked at it.

"Dear Paleta" His brother had called him that since they where kids. According to him he had a huge head, and tiny body, making him look like a lollipop.

"I left a real note for you in theusualplace" It appeared he started to run out of space at the end and the last few letters got progressively smaller and closer together. He turned the flash light away from the note and over the entire place. He hopped over the turnstile and made his way into thier Cave as he like to call it. He swiped the flashlight over the hideout, washing the light over everything. A few boxes where turned on their sides and some where empty. He dissapeared behind a door for a few moments and the lights came on. We walked over to a improvised bed that lay next to a makeshift corner, one wall being made of boxes, and the other being the subways own wall.

"Shit, He took his bed" James said aloud to noone in particular. He bent down and took out a tiny box that was near his bed. He opened the box and on top of it was a peice of paper with his brothers handwriting. He took the paper out of the box, and it uncovered the content of the box. It was full of different mints, altoids, candy canes, peppermints, and other hard candy mints. He detested gum. He took a tin of altiods and opened it, and put one in his mouth. After savoring the taste of it, he looked at the paper.

"Palleta. You probably know by now that i've left. I've taken the gun, and the rounds for it and some supplies. I think i may have found a lead to where she went. You know i have to do this. I found some more of your favorite mints and left you some as a consolation."

That was just like him. To leave family without saying goodbye. He was nevery the type for mushiness which is probably why he left before I got back. He let out an audible sigh, and looked around the place. He was still tired from the trek back to New York, and layed down on his bed, which was probably more akin to a pile of cloth than an actual bed. Well good for him i guess. If he thinks he can find his girl more power towards him.

He laid there for hours, and burned through many more mints before falling asleep.

note, paleta is spanish for lolipop, (and my brother does call me that)

This is a little something i wrote in half an hour which could well give us the idea of how the flash project begins.I'm not saying this will be it but youi never know.

And when Hell is full of the wicked and rejected,the dead shall rise and destroy the living"

It happened once,the dead rose just like the bible written by man predicted .The dead walked the earth once more.it was never found out hwere the outbreak started,it could well have been that these monsters were spit from hell itself or that the dead walked because of an experiment that ended horribly wrong.But that is not important,not anymore.
Within three hours of the outbreak,Deadlock was all but lost.Many had been slaughtered while trying to flee the wretched and corrupt cityNo one escpaed the city alive,the numbers of the dead were to many and survivors to few.As surprising as it was,Deadlock was still home to a handfull of unlucky survivors.Many were normal citizens who just wished the incident was nothing more than a nightmare and so decided to hide in their homes and wait for the end of it all.
There were others,others who were just to stubborn to hide in their basements waiting for death.A group of survivors brought together not from chance but destiny refused to let their city fall to the undead.There was still life in the crumbling ruins of Deadlock and it fought back.This is the story of those few misfits,the ones to stupid to lay down and die.This is the story of the few living cursed to fight the infinite dead,the unwinnable battle of survival.

The city was filled with screaming as those unfortunate were brutally slain by the dead.One man lay quietly,his head in his hands.The screaming had brought tears to his eyes and everything he had witnessed would never be forgotten while he was still alive.He was in hell,nothing more and nothing less.His hands were a murky red and his clothing stained a misty crimson.He was the lone survivor of a bus massacre.he shivered as the images appeared in his mind.Women and children screaming as the driver was pulled from his seat and dragged through the window,bloody handprints on the windows as the bus was slowly circled by the predators.The first sight as an unholy figure clambered aboard the bus and staggered forward,its face gruesome and its body distorted.The figure collapsed atop an elderly person too slow to escape and began its feast.The windows shattered as other unholy monsters clambered through windows and doors.He watched as the passangers were ripped to shreds and feasted upon.With only seconds to react,he shattered the back window with the ermergency hammer and clambered atop the roof.The bus rocked as the screams increased and the living died.He lay in the middle of the roof crying,his head in his hands.
Slowly he stood and gazed around,the tears still ran down his face.the streets were filled with the undead and the living who were dying.His feet were frozen to the roof of the bus,his eyes watched as a meatless hand slowly appeared on the roof.It was quickly followed by a figure of shreaded flesh and rotton clothing.Slowly the monster staggered forward towards the lone survivor,he could not move.His lips quivered as tears continued to drop from his face,images of his life flashed before him.The meatless hand grabbed his arm and pulled it up slowly towards the distorted jawless face.
The mans head exploded in a sea of red.From a not to distant building roof the dark figure reloaded the rifle and dropped the emtpy cartridge,he stood back and watched as the body was ripped apart.
The shadowy figure looked to the sky.
"another one joins you God,your city may be cursed but there are still some protecting your disciples."
The man walked slowly to a wooden chair and grabbed a tatty book titled "of Mice and Men".Another day another death another bullet lost.This was just a normal day for a member of The Last Stand Squad.

Its quite simple so tell me what you think please and i'll see if there is anything else to work on.

You know, i'd love to continue RPing in this crew. But not if i'm the only one RPing. Is it really just Blue and me doing it?

((It's what, spring/summer, right? Well let's say it's a hot day. Also, wow this has been running a little slow, ah well it'll pick up))

Jak sat in the passenger seat in the grey, rusted hunk of bolts of a truck, sweating like an overwieght man at a cannible party. His arm rested out the window, the sweat pooling between his flesh and the searing metal. It was a scorching day, the white glaring sun beating down on the roof and front window turning the entire cabin into a furnace. Looking at Jak you wouldn't tell, his eyes were squinted against the sun, his hairy arms and face covered the streams of liquid salt running down the creases of his brow, and except for the dark "V" shaped spots on the chest of his blue shirt he seemed to not notice.

The truck and caravan rumbled on dirt roads for the 3rd day of travel since leaving the small town, kicking up a rooster-tail of dust behind thier wheels and covering the area behind it with a thick smog cloud of sand. 3 vehicles made up the caravan, an old SUV covered scarcely with steel-plates led the troope with a heavy machine-gun mounted through a hole in the top of the roof and several other small caliber rifles bobbing up and down through gun ports in the sides. 6 men worked the vehicle and guns, including the mount and a driver, all well paid men from a town they had passed only a day ago. "After here be Bandit territory." That's what the men had said, so for protection the food rations and water container, little more than half full, droned on behind the SUV. It's wheels had been replaced with metal tracts, clacking against the packed road. Then the regular truck that carried the escort team, that is, whenever they got to England, or NY for that matter.

Leaning backward to speak through the portal window of the cab to the truck bed where the rest of the team sat, enjoying the wind coming from the 65mph travel, Jak looked over to Nick and peeled his arm off the metal door to fully turn.

Jak: I've never gone over-seas, how do expect we ge-

A wash of heat and shapnel colided with the front of the truck, shattering the front window and sending tiny balls of pressure-treated glass at a few hundred miles per hour into the truck compartment. Jak jerked his head around with eyes closed as glass embeded into the right side of his face and arms. The SUV was only half of a vehicle, the other half, the entire back end to be correct lay strewn in hunks of metal for yards in distance in every direction as the supply truck screamed to a stop. Looking around Jak saw the Ghile-suit clad maruader jump up from laying position with an RPG nestled on his shoulder, the was another 2 persons sitting behind a boulder with some types of high-caliber rifles. What kind was a mystery due to the blood tinting his vision, but soon the supply truck's cab was filled with the "pangs" of puntured metal as the drivers were mercilessly killed before they could get out.

7 more Ghile suited bandits began to pop out of the hill to lay surpressive fire on what remained of the convoy. Jak kicked open the door as he lifted his AKM from the floor, bullets rang out behind him, connecting overhead as he dropped to the ground and rolled under the truck to the other side.

((You know this is what you all wanted lol, little violence never hurt anyone right?))
((Also, I'm done with summer classes till the 18 when reg school starts, now i just give up the rest of my summers and I get 4yrs payed college for free!))

((Way to pick it up Jak. I thank you))

Nick stared out the window. It was scenery just like any other. Trees, rocks, grass, road. You seen one picture perfect bit of land, you've seen 'em all.

"Hey." Jak said from his seat beside Nick. Nick turned in a bit of a daze.

"Yeah?"

"I've never gone overseas, so how-"

Nick never heard the rest of the sentence because there was a whooshing sound to his left. He looked to see the world catch fire and explode right in front of him. He ducked instinctively, and felt the searing heat, more intense that Mother Nature's that day, wash over his back, raising blisters on his neck and arms.

That was the least of his worries, as the SUV, shit, the half of the SUV smashed into a rock and hurled its passengers onto the ground. Nick cracked his head off a root and his sight went black.

A sudden sharp pain in his face snapped Nick's eyes open, and he looked to see Ethan kneeling over him, Tony on one knee, and Jak prone. The latter two were firing at unseen foes. Nick shook his head to clear it and his hearing returned, informing him of the proximity of the gunshots.

"What the fuck-" Nick started.

"Bandits. You were KO'ed, but you're fine. Get up, and start shooting, Nick." said Ethan, quickly hauling Nick to his feet behind the truck they were hiding behind. Nick slammed his back against the hot metal, and crouch-ran towards the back end of it, wincing repeatedly as bullets flew by at an alarming frequency. He melded himself to the truck side and peered round the corner.

The situation was desperate. The bandits had somehow got their hands on an old German MG3. It was mounted on a makeshift tripod and was roaring down a withering hale of fire onto the caravan. Another SUV was already so much scrap metal from the volume of lead poring into it, and its passengers were either dead or near enough. The others were taking potshots at their leisure, as the return fire from the caravan was pathetic. Mostly everyone who had a gun was blind firing and only hurting the scenery. Nick watching as a hell-deer bounded out of nowhere, and the MG3 turned it into hamburger the instant it leapt into the line of fire.

Nick took a few shots of his own, and of course, hit nothing. He ground his teeth, and hashed it out in his head.

Problem: Big fucking gun is cutting us to ribbons.

Solution: Take out MG.

Problem: Too far for a grenade, the chance of a lucky shot next to nil, anyone who steps out to take real aim will die within nanoseconds.

A sudden scream jolted Nick back to reality. A bandit was shot in the crotch by a lucky bullet. He dropped the RPG-7 he'd been carrying, which rolled down the hill the bandits were on and came to a stop in front of Nick. He snatched it and crawled back to his companions, pulling out a grenade as he did so.

"I have an idea. One person throws the grenade to kick up some dirt and obscure the person who's going to fire the RPG at that machine gunner. Any takers?"

((Woo lively-ness. Here's my nextt bit.))

James groggily opens his eyes. He looks around the darkened subway. Its hard to tell what time it is down here, as morning noon and night all where meaningless. They where all replaced with the same unchanging tiles staring back at him in the dark. He slept too much, and felt tired and sluggish. After fifteen minutes of sitting in bed he overcame his body's extreme protest to getting out of bed. He was hungry and it has been two days since his last supply run. Its about time to grab something to eat.

He gets dressed quickly packing the basic neccecities into his backpack. He picks up the empty gun.

James:Hmm. I could pull a pretty decent bluff with thing need be. But, thats always really risky. Better save it for emergencies.

He stuffs the gun into the front of his pants and steps out of the subway. Walking outside the wind that hit him reminded him of the feeling of looking into an open oven. The heat seemed to bake everything in sight. THe sidewalk, firehydrant, even the buildings seem like they'd burst into flames any second. One of the things he hated worst in all the world, was the heat. He quickly removed his bookbag, and hastily peels off his sweater. Leaving a very thing white longsleeve shirt, with a single gray stripe across the chest on. He throws his sweater into the empty space in his bookbag and continues on his way.

After about forty-five minutes he spots a man and begins to follow him. He's sweating under the heat and begins to be impatiant. He walks faster and faster trying to catch up to the man. Suddenly, the man turns into an allyway. Despite the nasty feeling in his gut, he goes in after the guy and decides to pull the guy from his pants. The man turns to him and stares at him over the barrel of the gun directly into his eyes. He has black unkept hair, and blue eyes, and most irratitingly, a wide smile on his face. James looked at him with a stern look of disdain.

James: Fucking pretty boy. I'm sure he's melted his share of girls with a smile like that.

Man: Hi. You seemed like you where sweating a bit so i thought we should turn into this allyway to cool off. I know you've been following me for a while, and i'm afraid i'm going to have to dissapoint you.

James: I really doubt that. See I'm not into things like that. I may be tailing you, but its not for your tail. Get me?

The man let loose a hearty laugh. Thats not the usually reaction. He's enjoying this too much.

Man: Ahh thats good, but not what i was talking about. No i'm afraid that you wont be able to tear me from my supplies as you had planned.

James: Unfortunatly, i'm going to have to dissagree with you there.

Man: Well, if we are going to do this, at least let me introduce myself properly. My names Brian.

James: Heh. Well Brian its a shame this is going to end the way it will.

Brian: Yes. It is isn't it?

Niether of them move for almost a full minute.

Brian: Well. Are you going to shoot me, or can I go? Unless... you can't shoot me?

It was difficult to keep himself from making a face. He can't let him know that the gun is empty.

Brian: Well if you wont make the first move I will.

James snaps and tosses the gun at him. Brian very neatly side steps the gun. James pulls his crowbar from his book bag and takes a swing at his skull. Brian ducks to avoid the metal bar, and the tips of his hair briefly connect with it when it passes by. James turns a full three sixty carried by the momentum of the swing. When he faces foward again he sees Brain moving he launches his right leg in a kick to the ribs and Brian turns his body so the kick connects but does Zero damage. He grabs James leg, and knees him on the underside of the thigh, causing a serious pain in his muscle. When he releases the leg James can barely stand on it. James tries in a last ditch effort to launch a hook to the left side of his face. Brian grabs his arm and after a complicated series of movements has James in some sort of twisted arm lock he's never seen before, or experienced for that matter.

Brian: Again sorry!

The last word had a happy tone to it that he recognized faintly. Brian brought James head down on the hard concrete, and pain exploded into the back of his head and then his vision went black. He lost consciousness after that.

Little by little he returned to his body. He felt something gripping his wrists tightly. The floor was hot and very hard. He heard rumbling. And it grew closer and closer, as did the sound of voices. He realized the rumbling was coming from the floor as it was shaking. The voices where right by him. He opened his eyes a little and looked down at his hand. He was shackled. He sat up and almost wished he hadn't.His head screamed in protest and began throbbing. He looked around. He seemed to be inside a truck bed, driving around the city. There where three men sitting around him. One was sitting on the left side by himself. He had dark black skin, a black wifebeater and green camo pants. The closest one to him on the right was obviously hispanic from his skin tone, and was wearing a dark olive button down shirt, left open, with the same camo pants. The last man was mostly obscured because of the man closest to him. He could see most of his face and seemed to be black mans sibling. The men sitting around him broke of thier conversation and stared at him. He looked at them unsure of what to say. He could still feel the dried blood on the back of his head.

James: Uh. Hi.

One of the men scooted closer to him and pistol whipped him in the head. James slumped over and hit the truckbed again. The men resumed talking.

Man 1: How fucking far are we?

Man 2: We'll be there in a minute. How can you where black out here? Aren't you hot in that shit?

Man 3: So this fucker got how many people?

Man 2: Don't know. But he's been mugging people for quite a while. He tried to get Brian, but Brian fucked his ass up.

Man 3: Brian's the guy driving right? I haven't known him for long seeing as how i just joined, but he bugs me. He doesn't seem right.

Man 2: Yeah. I know what you mean.

James: Owwwww. Fuck man you didn't even knock me out right.

James starts to straight up. The latin guy scoots over and whacks him one more time. This time, he gets it right, and James slips into unconsciousness again.

Dan Friedman

Age: 24

Appearance: Always being a tall one, Dan stands around 6'0'' slouching. He carries a head full of blond hear, long due to the fact that no time should be wasted on cutting hair for frivoulous outer appearance. He usually justs parts it to the side, so that it doesn't affect his vision. Now a rugged man, before the war Dan always kept a rather neat and sophisticated look about him, no stubble, cut hair, the works. His hazel eyes differ from the normal blue-eys, blond hair look but no one picked up on that much. Quite a lanky fellow before the war, he now has developed muscle, toting a good build.

Equipment: Ever since the tender age of 7, Dan has trained in the martial arts, mainly Jujutsu and Iaido(Blade). Though martial arts should be applied for defense, war is a radical time, and the best defense is a great offense. He carries a Katana and Wakizashi, and also holds a bag filled with a Jo and Bo, and Nunchaku.

Skills: As said in the paragraph befor, Dan has various Martial Arts skills. He
is proficient in Jujutsi, Iaido, Nunchaku, and Jo.(The last three are weapons, for those unfamiliar.)

Personality: Dan, although rugged on the outside, he's quite a well-balanced man, friendly but not soft. basically, you are displayed by actions in Dan's mind, for words have very little meaning.

Bio: Dan had a great life before the war started. He had a wife, a great home, and an easy profession as a lawyer. His wife is being held somewhere safe, while he is on the frontline's. Always a bright one, Dan excelled in school. Now, since brightness has different aptitudes, Dan uses his wits for quick strategies and battle plans.

Location: Dan's locaton is in California, wearing his black gi and his bag on his soldier. Corpses lay all around him, some from natural causes and others...

There's my bio.

((Hey guys, what did I miss? And you better be sentimental about it.))