![Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]] 346wbgj](https://2img.net/h/i41.tinypic.com/346wbgj.png)
Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
4 posters
Page 1 of 19
Page 1 of 19 • 1, 2, 3 ... 10 ... 19 
Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Fri Dec 30, 2011 3:15 pm
4
Earthquakes shudder across the world.
3
Something is released.
2
Trust no one – not even yourself.
1
The Killing Game has begun...
A murderous rage has been unleashed. Moments after earthquakes rock the world, people start to change in the most terrifying of ways. Friends turn on friends, girlfriends on boyfriends, brothers on sisters. Nobody can be trusted.
People are killing each other all over the world. There is no explanation for the average person to understand. In the last remaining places where the media is able to reach the public, they have no answers.
The evil that infects us has already been around. Since the dawn of time, before names could be named, before words could be written down – they have always existed.
((*Note* The above is all different extracts from the book by Jeyn Roberts. I take no credit for it whatsoever.
Now onto my own writing. Prepare for suckiness...))
Madness.
Just plain madness.
Call it an apocalypse, a catalyst, or an invasion. Whatever. It's all of the above.
It all started with the Earthquakes in America. The ground opened up, wrecking roads, collapsing buildings and causing cars to blow up. Something came out from beneath the ground, a bit like War of the Worlds. But it wasn't something physical. You can't hear it, see it, or feel it.
Not in your hands, anyway.
People started to go mad. Normal people. Innocent people. They all turned on each other, stealing lives for no reason. If they didn't have weapons they'd do it with their bare hands.
Normal people, turned into murderous, destructive monsters.
At first people saw it as a disease, like rabies with dogs. They had problems. They were mentally disturbed. But everyone could feel it deep inside, like an electrical charge running through their veins. It was waiting.
I don't like to think about it. I don't want to think about if or when I'm to turn, but I think it will happen to everyone at some point. It happened to Joe. He was my flat mate down in London, until this whole thing started.
I wasn't on ground when the earthquakes reached my home in Dundee, Scotland. I was flying oversees to Italy on a school trip when it happened. I remember looking out the window and seeing nothing but clouds. Fresh, white, fluffy clouds. Then the clouds broke apart and I saw the ground shaking. The houses collapsing. The fires starting. The plain jolted, but nothing compared to what was happening on ground. The trip was cancelled then. We flew straight back to the airport in London. That was where my flat was. A couple of weeks later things got worse for us. Much, much worse.
The 'disease' started to spread. Individual people turned to gangs of killers. They dragged people out of their homes and killed them on the street, then they left their bodies to rot. We hid in the wardrobe like children, praying we wouldn't be found. We weren't.
But they got Joe.
I don't know how, or why, but somehow they got him. I could see it in his eyes. The veins were dark, his irises were nothing but pools of sickly, lifeless black. His lips went red and cracked, like a vampire. Then he grabbed me.
I knew straight away that he wanted to kill me, because he wrapped his hands around my throat as soon as he'd got me out of the wardrobe and wrestled me to the ground. He didn't say a word to me. He could have done, but he didn't. He just sat there, smiling, as he squeezed the life out of me.
I hit him. I had to. It took at least three punches to get him off me, a kick in the face to bring him down, and a baby-sized cricket bat to almost knock him out. Yet even then, even when blood was trickling out of his mouth, he tried desperately to crawl to me, his dark eyes bloodthirsty. As if it was the most important thing to do with his last breath.
I hit him once more in the head, just trying to knock him out. But that was the end of him.
Entire towns have been rounded up and shot down like diseased vermin. Cars are no longer in use, nor is anything electrical. The hospitals are swarming with people, but no one can help them.
Far out on the main roads outside the settlements, miles of cars are either stopped or abandoned, their passengers dead or missing. Shops and supermarkets are looted to the core. Houses are either collapsed, burnt or littered with the bodies of their previous owners.
It happened to Joe. It can happen to anyone, and everyone. Until then, we have to do our best to survive as humans. But the monster population is growing. I reckon about half the population have turned already, and rising. They won't stop killing.
I don't know why they do it. For fun? Possibly. They seem to see it as a game, anyway. A hunting game.
And we're the prey.
You have to outsmart them if you want to stay alive. Keep quiet, and keep your head down. Always carry weapons, and trust no one.
You have been warned.
Name: Daniel.
Surname: None of your freakin' business.
Age: 17, going on 30.
Looks: Not particularly tall, around 5” something. (Measuring my height hasn't been on the top of my list recently). My hair's around medium length, black – got that off my dad – brushed back with an annoying bouncy bit at the front. My skin is very fair, my eyes a deep, forest green. I'll probably have a bit of stubble around my upper lip and around my chin and jaw, since razors are a luxury no one can be arsed with any more. I also have quite a soft, Scottish accent,which has faded slightly since I lived in London. I'm quite broad-shouldered, something to do with years of swimming and rugby practice back when school existed. I have quite a tired, angry face now. I have wrinkles where I hadn't before, mostly around the middle of my brow and eyelids. I never smile. Haven't done since this whole thing started. It was a totally different story back at school, but no one gives a damn about the past any more. All the matters now is the present, and keeping death and those murdering swine at bay. What was I meant to be talking about, again? My looks. Right.
Well, I wear dark, ripped jeans (I'd tell you they're meant to be like that, but I'd be lying...), a plain black t-shirt and my dad's old leather jacket. It still stinks of him and his cigarettes, I swear it. Although that might just be me. My own hideous stench has probably taken over it by now, anyway. I also have a scarf, a stripy, grey and white thing. I found it in a house somewhere. Don't know whose it was. Don't really care.
Also, I have a backpack. It doesn't have much, just a couple of cans of beans, two bottles of water, a hand gun, half-empty matchbox and a whistle (don't ask...). I carry two kitchen knives in the sides pockets of my jeans, since I can use them with some skill, far better than the gun. Am I babbling again? Sorry.
Abilities: Ah, here we go. Well, as I say, I'm a fair good fighter with knives, mostly. I prefer using something besides my fists, since it gives me more confidence. I don't really like using the gun, because my aim with it isn't very good and the kick doesn't really help. Yeah, I prefer knives. I'm quite an impressive runner, too. Not the fastest, but I'm not bad, either.
Disabilities: Do I have to...? Alright. Fine. I'm not as strong as I look on the inside. I have an attitude, I may not be the best company to keep and I'm easily tormented. I don't know if my family is even alive, I killed the best, f***ing brilliant mate in the world, and he's not the only one. I want to be numb inside. They say that's what happens when you go through something too traumatic. You go numb. You forget everything. But I can still see him: his eyes, like something out of a horror film, his face as he strangled me, his crumpled, bleeding body on that ratty old carpet. Whenever I try and remember us before it all started, him trying to teach me how to play guitar, be trying to tell him to clean up his dirty pots after eating, I see him as he was the day he tried to kill me. The day I killed him.
There. I said it. Happy?
Rules:
>I don't really care about genders. They can be as even or as uneven as you like.
>There is a very big chance that you're an orphan, lost everything you know,etc. Also, they can be as sane or as insane as you like. Look at Danny boy, here. He's not exactly the happiest dude around.
>Obviously, stick to Arby's rules ^_^
>No God-modelling,please. You're in an apocalypse, here. You're hardly going to be in perfect health, or look perfectly clean. You're not going to be an impossibly amazing fighter, either. You can't take on 10 crazy people to 1 with nothing but your bare fists.
>Be as realistic as possible. No one has any supernatural powers, not even the 'monsters'. They're not zombies. You can kill them just as easily as you can kill a human.
>I did have more, but I've forgotten them. Just keep an eye on this page in case I do add any more
>Finally... Have fun! ^_^
((C)) Based on the novel 'D4RK INSIDE' by Jeyn Roberts.
Earthquakes shudder across the world.
3
Something is released.
2
Trust no one – not even yourself.
1
The Killing Game has begun...
A murderous rage has been unleashed. Moments after earthquakes rock the world, people start to change in the most terrifying of ways. Friends turn on friends, girlfriends on boyfriends, brothers on sisters. Nobody can be trusted.
People are killing each other all over the world. There is no explanation for the average person to understand. In the last remaining places where the media is able to reach the public, they have no answers.
The evil that infects us has already been around. Since the dawn of time, before names could be named, before words could be written down – they have always existed.
((*Note* The above is all different extracts from the book by Jeyn Roberts. I take no credit for it whatsoever.
Now onto my own writing. Prepare for suckiness...))Madness.
Just plain madness.
Call it an apocalypse, a catalyst, or an invasion. Whatever. It's all of the above.
It all started with the Earthquakes in America. The ground opened up, wrecking roads, collapsing buildings and causing cars to blow up. Something came out from beneath the ground, a bit like War of the Worlds. But it wasn't something physical. You can't hear it, see it, or feel it.
Not in your hands, anyway.
People started to go mad. Normal people. Innocent people. They all turned on each other, stealing lives for no reason. If they didn't have weapons they'd do it with their bare hands.
Normal people, turned into murderous, destructive monsters.
At first people saw it as a disease, like rabies with dogs. They had problems. They were mentally disturbed. But everyone could feel it deep inside, like an electrical charge running through their veins. It was waiting.
I don't like to think about it. I don't want to think about if or when I'm to turn, but I think it will happen to everyone at some point. It happened to Joe. He was my flat mate down in London, until this whole thing started.
I wasn't on ground when the earthquakes reached my home in Dundee, Scotland. I was flying oversees to Italy on a school trip when it happened. I remember looking out the window and seeing nothing but clouds. Fresh, white, fluffy clouds. Then the clouds broke apart and I saw the ground shaking. The houses collapsing. The fires starting. The plain jolted, but nothing compared to what was happening on ground. The trip was cancelled then. We flew straight back to the airport in London. That was where my flat was. A couple of weeks later things got worse for us. Much, much worse.
The 'disease' started to spread. Individual people turned to gangs of killers. They dragged people out of their homes and killed them on the street, then they left their bodies to rot. We hid in the wardrobe like children, praying we wouldn't be found. We weren't.
But they got Joe.
I don't know how, or why, but somehow they got him. I could see it in his eyes. The veins were dark, his irises were nothing but pools of sickly, lifeless black. His lips went red and cracked, like a vampire. Then he grabbed me.
I knew straight away that he wanted to kill me, because he wrapped his hands around my throat as soon as he'd got me out of the wardrobe and wrestled me to the ground. He didn't say a word to me. He could have done, but he didn't. He just sat there, smiling, as he squeezed the life out of me.
I hit him. I had to. It took at least three punches to get him off me, a kick in the face to bring him down, and a baby-sized cricket bat to almost knock him out. Yet even then, even when blood was trickling out of his mouth, he tried desperately to crawl to me, his dark eyes bloodthirsty. As if it was the most important thing to do with his last breath.
I hit him once more in the head, just trying to knock him out. But that was the end of him.
Entire towns have been rounded up and shot down like diseased vermin. Cars are no longer in use, nor is anything electrical. The hospitals are swarming with people, but no one can help them.
Far out on the main roads outside the settlements, miles of cars are either stopped or abandoned, their passengers dead or missing. Shops and supermarkets are looted to the core. Houses are either collapsed, burnt or littered with the bodies of their previous owners.
It happened to Joe. It can happen to anyone, and everyone. Until then, we have to do our best to survive as humans. But the monster population is growing. I reckon about half the population have turned already, and rising. They won't stop killing.
I don't know why they do it. For fun? Possibly. They seem to see it as a game, anyway. A hunting game.
And we're the prey.
You have to outsmart them if you want to stay alive. Keep quiet, and keep your head down. Always carry weapons, and trust no one.
You have been warned.
Name: Daniel.
Surname: None of your freakin' business.
Age: 17, going on 30.
Looks: Not particularly tall, around 5” something. (Measuring my height hasn't been on the top of my list recently). My hair's around medium length, black – got that off my dad – brushed back with an annoying bouncy bit at the front. My skin is very fair, my eyes a deep, forest green. I'll probably have a bit of stubble around my upper lip and around my chin and jaw, since razors are a luxury no one can be arsed with any more. I also have quite a soft, Scottish accent,which has faded slightly since I lived in London. I'm quite broad-shouldered, something to do with years of swimming and rugby practice back when school existed. I have quite a tired, angry face now. I have wrinkles where I hadn't before, mostly around the middle of my brow and eyelids. I never smile. Haven't done since this whole thing started. It was a totally different story back at school, but no one gives a damn about the past any more. All the matters now is the present, and keeping death and those murdering swine at bay. What was I meant to be talking about, again? My looks. Right.
Well, I wear dark, ripped jeans (I'd tell you they're meant to be like that, but I'd be lying...), a plain black t-shirt and my dad's old leather jacket. It still stinks of him and his cigarettes, I swear it. Although that might just be me. My own hideous stench has probably taken over it by now, anyway. I also have a scarf, a stripy, grey and white thing. I found it in a house somewhere. Don't know whose it was. Don't really care.
Also, I have a backpack. It doesn't have much, just a couple of cans of beans, two bottles of water, a hand gun, half-empty matchbox and a whistle (don't ask...). I carry two kitchen knives in the sides pockets of my jeans, since I can use them with some skill, far better than the gun. Am I babbling again? Sorry.
Abilities: Ah, here we go. Well, as I say, I'm a fair good fighter with knives, mostly. I prefer using something besides my fists, since it gives me more confidence. I don't really like using the gun, because my aim with it isn't very good and the kick doesn't really help. Yeah, I prefer knives. I'm quite an impressive runner, too. Not the fastest, but I'm not bad, either.
Disabilities: Do I have to...? Alright. Fine. I'm not as strong as I look on the inside. I have an attitude, I may not be the best company to keep and I'm easily tormented. I don't know if my family is even alive, I killed the best, f***ing brilliant mate in the world, and he's not the only one. I want to be numb inside. They say that's what happens when you go through something too traumatic. You go numb. You forget everything. But I can still see him: his eyes, like something out of a horror film, his face as he strangled me, his crumpled, bleeding body on that ratty old carpet. Whenever I try and remember us before it all started, him trying to teach me how to play guitar, be trying to tell him to clean up his dirty pots after eating, I see him as he was the day he tried to kill me. The day I killed him.
There. I said it. Happy?
Rules:
>I don't really care about genders. They can be as even or as uneven as you like.
>There is a very big chance that you're an orphan, lost everything you know,etc. Also, they can be as sane or as insane as you like. Look at Danny boy, here. He's not exactly the happiest dude around.
>Obviously, stick to Arby's rules ^_^
>No God-modelling,please. You're in an apocalypse, here. You're hardly going to be in perfect health, or look perfectly clean. You're not going to be an impossibly amazing fighter, either. You can't take on 10 crazy people to 1 with nothing but your bare fists.
>Be as realistic as possible. No one has any supernatural powers, not even the 'monsters'. They're not zombies. You can kill them just as easily as you can kill a human.
>I did have more, but I've forgotten them. Just keep an eye on this page in case I do add any more
>Finally... Have fun! ^_^
((C)) Based on the novel 'D4RK INSIDE' by Jeyn Roberts.
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Batcat Sat Dec 31, 2011 9:43 am
[[*explodes* I'm making my character. Right now.]]
Batcat- Posts : 4041
Join date : 2009-12-24
Age : 26
Location : Imre -
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Sat Dec 31, 2011 9:49 am
[[Woot! ^_^ Thank you! ]]
]]
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Batcat Sat Dec 31, 2011 10:09 am
Shaelynn Grace Solana
Shae
Female
19
Looks
I used to be very vain with my looks and stuff; I was one of those people that always cared about how straight their hair was, or how exact their make-up was, or how much their stomach hung over their mini skirts, even though that has never been a problem for me. I used to have striking light green eyes, a lot like a cat’s. I had super long, dark red hair. It was always perfectly straight, and if it wasn’t, I spent the whole day wondering who would notice. I always wore the skimpiest of outfits, although that’s not very practical anymore with the weather and all. Besides, if more skin is being revealed, there’s more for people – well, are they really people anymore? – to tear at and rip open. Ugh. And I was one of those girls that were at the top of the food chain in high school. When I got to college, it was pretty terrifying. People didn’t play those petty games anymore. I was so used to it that I had to, and I guess I still do. I guess that’s why people always stayed away from me; I intimidated them.
That’s what I used to look like anyway. Now I have my hair cut short to keep it out of my face when I’m running. That’s what I do best, run. Maybe I could have been an athlete in school, but now there’s no hope or future for it. Anyway, my hair is also so tangled and dirty that you can’t even see the red; it just looks dead and brown, like everything else here. My perfect skin is now scarred and dry and chapped, bloodied and bruised as markings of these trials that I’m enduring. My clothes are torn in places that usually wouldn’t have clothing, but now it’s just embarrassing. It feels like just one more way my humanity is slowly slipping away from me. Just the other day I felt the urge to kill a passing dog that was limping by. Not for food or anything, but just to kill it. I think I’m losing my mind. My supplies are all gone. I’m relying on hunting and gathering now, killing pets and small animals and trying to cook them over small fires. I’m getting better, but every once in a while, I still burn the meat.
The two things about me that look the same are my figure and my eyes. Although I am a little thinner – ah, who am I kidding, I’m just over 80 pounds – it’s not a change since I’ve never been able to really hold body fat. Add that to the fact that I didn’t want to gain any weight, and I don’t think I’ve ever weighed more than 110. And my eyes. They still shine with a fierce light of determination, a spark that shouts survival. That same unholy glare of superiority that scared the daylight out of so many of my peers is now my salvation; I am not shot at a distance when I stumble along the road. They know that I’m human. Human…
Abilities
As I’ve previously stated, my greatest asset for survival is running. I run with everything I’ve got, whether it’s getting food or escaping that insane person chasing me. I find running very soothing, I can think of things I never would have before. It’s funny that I find escaping danger so peaceful. My greatest offensive ability? Well, I have a fairly good shot because my dad used to take me hunting when I was really little and before it was “uncool” to do so. But it doesn’t matter because I haven’t been able to find a gun in weeks. Stupid England.
Disabilities
I’m small (weight-wise, I’m pretty tall) and I’m weak. If anything ever comes down to hand-to-hand combat, I’m screwed. I can hold my own if the person is weaker than me or doesn’t know how to fight since I’ve been in too many cat-fights, but other than that, I’m a dead bitch. I’m also not that great with fighting with knives. I’m good at using them, but not fighting with them. Personality wise, I’m not very trusting, which is both a blessing and a curse. I also have a hard time listening to other people’s advice, although I’m pretty good at handing it out.
I also enjoy making you suffer.
[[This is the most description I've ever put into a character. You are a miracle worker xD]]
Shae
Female
19
Looks
I used to be very vain with my looks and stuff; I was one of those people that always cared about how straight their hair was, or how exact their make-up was, or how much their stomach hung over their mini skirts, even though that has never been a problem for me. I used to have striking light green eyes, a lot like a cat’s. I had super long, dark red hair. It was always perfectly straight, and if it wasn’t, I spent the whole day wondering who would notice. I always wore the skimpiest of outfits, although that’s not very practical anymore with the weather and all. Besides, if more skin is being revealed, there’s more for people – well, are they really people anymore? – to tear at and rip open. Ugh. And I was one of those girls that were at the top of the food chain in high school. When I got to college, it was pretty terrifying. People didn’t play those petty games anymore. I was so used to it that I had to, and I guess I still do. I guess that’s why people always stayed away from me; I intimidated them.
That’s what I used to look like anyway. Now I have my hair cut short to keep it out of my face when I’m running. That’s what I do best, run. Maybe I could have been an athlete in school, but now there’s no hope or future for it. Anyway, my hair is also so tangled and dirty that you can’t even see the red; it just looks dead and brown, like everything else here. My perfect skin is now scarred and dry and chapped, bloodied and bruised as markings of these trials that I’m enduring. My clothes are torn in places that usually wouldn’t have clothing, but now it’s just embarrassing. It feels like just one more way my humanity is slowly slipping away from me. Just the other day I felt the urge to kill a passing dog that was limping by. Not for food or anything, but just to kill it. I think I’m losing my mind. My supplies are all gone. I’m relying on hunting and gathering now, killing pets and small animals and trying to cook them over small fires. I’m getting better, but every once in a while, I still burn the meat.
The two things about me that look the same are my figure and my eyes. Although I am a little thinner – ah, who am I kidding, I’m just over 80 pounds – it’s not a change since I’ve never been able to really hold body fat. Add that to the fact that I didn’t want to gain any weight, and I don’t think I’ve ever weighed more than 110. And my eyes. They still shine with a fierce light of determination, a spark that shouts survival. That same unholy glare of superiority that scared the daylight out of so many of my peers is now my salvation; I am not shot at a distance when I stumble along the road. They know that I’m human. Human…
Abilities
As I’ve previously stated, my greatest asset for survival is running. I run with everything I’ve got, whether it’s getting food or escaping that insane person chasing me. I find running very soothing, I can think of things I never would have before. It’s funny that I find escaping danger so peaceful. My greatest offensive ability? Well, I have a fairly good shot because my dad used to take me hunting when I was really little and before it was “uncool” to do so. But it doesn’t matter because I haven’t been able to find a gun in weeks. Stupid England.
Disabilities
I’m small (weight-wise, I’m pretty tall) and I’m weak. If anything ever comes down to hand-to-hand combat, I’m screwed. I can hold my own if the person is weaker than me or doesn’t know how to fight since I’ve been in too many cat-fights, but other than that, I’m a dead bitch. I’m also not that great with fighting with knives. I’m good at using them, but not fighting with them. Personality wise, I’m not very trusting, which is both a blessing and a curse. I also have a hard time listening to other people’s advice, although I’m pretty good at handing it out.
I also enjoy making you suffer.
[[This is the most description I've ever put into a character. You are a miracle worker xD]]
Batcat- Posts : 4041
Join date : 2009-12-24
Age : 26
Location : Imre -
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Sat Dec 31, 2011 10:16 am
[[She's intimidating? Wow, you're brilliant. ^_^ He's going to hate her for a bit :3 *pets character* Well done, she's totally amazing. 
Shall we start now and let peeps join when they please, or should we wait until more join? If more join...
]]
Shall we start now and let peeps join when they please, or should we wait until more join? If more join...
]]
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Batcat Sat Dec 31, 2011 10:20 am
[[Let 'em join as they please. I find it easier if people don't join all at once xD And I feel like they will get along brilliantly... After a couple weeks of almost killing each other in irritation of course.]]
Batcat- Posts : 4041
Join date : 2009-12-24
Age : 26
Location : Imre -
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Kira The Dragon Master Sat Dec 31, 2011 11:25 am
[ok, I've contemplating this for a while, and I figure I'll give it a shot but. My characters gonna be...different. O.o he gonna be so cuuuute.
Alright. Well, I'll have to get him all together and junk. So I'll post my character later.]
but. My characters gonna be...different. O.o he gonna be so cuuuute. Alright. Well, I'll have to get him all together and junk. So I'll post my character later.]
Kira The Dragon Master- Posts : 4843
Join date : 2009-11-10
Age : 27
Location : Berk
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Sat Dec 31, 2011 11:35 am
[[Haha I'm the same. Right then, let the almost killing commence! ]]
Silence.
I've been sat in this torn apart, old café now for an hour an a half, and they haven't found me yet. Good riddance.
I know it sounds like suicide to you. Hell, it probably is. But I don't give a damn. If they try and get me, no matter how many of them there is, I'll fight 'em. I'll slit their throats, wrists, faces and hearts until they're bodies have no more blood left to bleed. They deserve every agonising second it takes for them to die.
Oh God. I've met that many of them I'm even starting to think like them. I must stop. Must stop. I'm not one of them. I don't want to be one of them.
I scrunch my eyes closed and pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, frowning deeply. I need to think. What was I going to do after this? Oh yeah. Head west. No idea why, but west sounds good. The Wild West. I used to love the Wild West. Cowboys. Indians. Or... Not-Indians. Native Americans, that's what they're really called. Indians are from India, obviously.
Is it this bad in India? Have they all turned insane like most of the people here?
A plain white mug with a crack in it spins around my index finger, making a quiet 'rolling' sound. A drop of cold, black coffee sloshes around in the bottom. I pick up the mug and pour the remains in my mouth, forcing a swallow and pulling a look of distaste as it dribbled down my gullet. I'd tried to use the coffee maker behind the abandoned counter, but of course, there was no point. It didn't work, just like the kettle, or the fridge, or the lights on the display section. Some hungry sod had smashed through the glass and taken armfuls of – no doubt - mouldy scones and iced bread buns. There isn't much left any more other than a rainbow of green, blue and purple, stinky mess.
My defences are down, my rucksack is under the tiny, round coffee table by my feet and I'm sat in front of a huge, broken window, staring blankly at a wet, muddy forest. They'll come for me at some point.
Ha. Let 'em try.
[[Heya Kira! Don't worry, just come in when you're ready. If it's not already obvious, my charri is't really doing muchat the moment. ]]
Right then, let the almost killing commence! ]]Silence.
I've been sat in this torn apart, old café now for an hour an a half, and they haven't found me yet. Good riddance.
I know it sounds like suicide to you. Hell, it probably is. But I don't give a damn. If they try and get me, no matter how many of them there is, I'll fight 'em. I'll slit their throats, wrists, faces and hearts until they're bodies have no more blood left to bleed. They deserve every agonising second it takes for them to die.
Oh God. I've met that many of them I'm even starting to think like them. I must stop. Must stop. I'm not one of them. I don't want to be one of them.
I scrunch my eyes closed and pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, frowning deeply. I need to think. What was I going to do after this? Oh yeah. Head west. No idea why, but west sounds good. The Wild West. I used to love the Wild West. Cowboys. Indians. Or... Not-Indians. Native Americans, that's what they're really called. Indians are from India, obviously.
Is it this bad in India? Have they all turned insane like most of the people here?
A plain white mug with a crack in it spins around my index finger, making a quiet 'rolling' sound. A drop of cold, black coffee sloshes around in the bottom. I pick up the mug and pour the remains in my mouth, forcing a swallow and pulling a look of distaste as it dribbled down my gullet. I'd tried to use the coffee maker behind the abandoned counter, but of course, there was no point. It didn't work, just like the kettle, or the fridge, or the lights on the display section. Some hungry sod had smashed through the glass and taken armfuls of – no doubt - mouldy scones and iced bread buns. There isn't much left any more other than a rainbow of green, blue and purple, stinky mess.
My defences are down, my rucksack is under the tiny, round coffee table by my feet and I'm sat in front of a huge, broken window, staring blankly at a wet, muddy forest. They'll come for me at some point.
Ha. Let 'em try.
[[Heya Kira!
Don't worry, just come in when you're ready. If it's not already obvious, my charri is't really doing muchat the moment. ]]
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Batcat Sat Dec 31, 2011 11:59 am
Her thoughts were whirling as she crouched behind a group of sad looking bushes across from what she presumed to be an old outlet mall. Her chest was rising and falling in quick, short pants, gasping to pull in more and more oxygen. Her fists were balled up into tight little spheres, and her muscles were tense all along her wiry body. Cautiously, Shae parted some leaves and stared out onto the destitute plane before her. All looked peaceful – or at least as peaceful as something could get here.
Buildings were crumbling, cars were rusting, and people were writhing on the ground in agony. Frowning, she wondered where her pursuers had gone. Had she not been chased by a group of killers just a few moments ago? Anxiously, she glanced down at her arm to see if the scratches and cuts she’d gotten from their bony grips were still there. Nothing. There was only an old fading bruise, turning a gross shade of yellow. Sliding to the ground, clutching her skull, Shae wondered how long she had until she lost her mind too. This had taken everything away from he, she couldn’t bear to lose herself now.
Standing up shakily, she moved quietly around the building and glanced carefully around the corner. Of course. The people that had just been chasing her a second ago – well, were they really chasing her? It was only a hallucination, since there was nothing left on them on her or anything – were all piling into a small store through a window. Looked like a coffee shop.
Shae frowned. What could possibly be in there that they would want? Then it dawned on her. A live human. Her eyes widened and she shrank back, hesitant to go help a stranger. She didn’t want to help. It wasn’t in her nature to help. But she hadn’t even seen a sane human in months, let alone talked tone. This could benefit her.
But how to help? She didn’t know. Deciding to watch and see what would happen, she sank back to her heels and watched to see what would happen.
Buildings were crumbling, cars were rusting, and people were writhing on the ground in agony. Frowning, she wondered where her pursuers had gone. Had she not been chased by a group of killers just a few moments ago? Anxiously, she glanced down at her arm to see if the scratches and cuts she’d gotten from their bony grips were still there. Nothing. There was only an old fading bruise, turning a gross shade of yellow. Sliding to the ground, clutching her skull, Shae wondered how long she had until she lost her mind too. This had taken everything away from he, she couldn’t bear to lose herself now.
Standing up shakily, she moved quietly around the building and glanced carefully around the corner. Of course. The people that had just been chasing her a second ago – well, were they really chasing her? It was only a hallucination, since there was nothing left on them on her or anything – were all piling into a small store through a window. Looked like a coffee shop.
Shae frowned. What could possibly be in there that they would want? Then it dawned on her. A live human. Her eyes widened and she shrank back, hesitant to go help a stranger. She didn’t want to help. It wasn’t in her nature to help. But she hadn’t even seen a sane human in months, let alone talked tone. This could benefit her.
But how to help? She didn’t know. Deciding to watch and see what would happen, she sank back to her heels and watched to see what would happen.
Batcat- Posts : 4041
Join date : 2009-12-24
Age : 26
Location : Imre -
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Kira The Dragon Master Sat Dec 31, 2011 1:01 pm
Okay...let's see if I can do this...xD
I don't know how tall 12 year olds are o_0
Cristopher Robin Tundra
Stupid name? Absolutely. My mom thought that as a baby I'd grow up to look like Cristopher Robin, you know, from Whinnie the Pooh? Yeah. Well, she was somewhat right. I have that tawny colored, shaggy hair he had. I've got brown eyes like him, but I don't wear khaki shorts and sweater vests(I think that's what he wore, I don't know.) Anyhow, I'm pretty average height for a 12 year old. Seeing as I'm going through that nasty thing called puberty, my voice cracks. It's pretty annoying. But whatever.
I guess I'm pretty laid back. That, or I'm just losing my mind. I was always the calm one of the group, the quiet one. It's weird not having those loudmouths I called friends around, trying to get me to speak up.
Speaking of them, My friends all used to call me Tundra. They're all dead now, of course. I guess I'm lucky. I was absent the day the earth quake hit, sending the building crumbling to the ground. Maybe they found survivors, I don't know. I try to not think about it to much. Now that I think about it, they were probably the lucky ones. I'd rather be dead now.
My parents died that too. My sister had stayed home with me, but she want all zombie-fied. I guess she's dead too, I don't know. I just ran. I don't know where I am now, no map, nothing. Just on my own. Maybe that's for the best.
Abilities
Besides running, I guess I have a pretty good throw. I was pitcher on my baseball team. It comes in handy, sometimes. I can chuck stuff at the monsters(that's what I've decided to call them, since I don't know what the heck they are. Maybe that's for the best.)
[[alright...time for my post!]]
[he's gonna go by Tundra o.o]
Tundra stood on a street corner. He was being stupid, he knew that. But seriously, who cared? Obviously he was the only one around. He stared up at the cracking building, then around at the rusting cars. How long had this been going on? He had no idea, he'd lost track of time ages ago, when he lost his watch. He glanced down at his clothes. What a bedraggled mess he was! He kind of wished he could have a bath...but what were the odds of that? None. He sighed and glanced nervously around, then started down the street.
That's when he heard it. He should've started running, but Tundra decided to do the stupid thing and see where it had come from. The monsters, as he liked to call them, were close by. But they hadn't seen him, yet.
Come on, stupid. Get your feet moving. He thought, but he couldn't. Where was he supposed to go? Just keep running.
Just keep running, just keep running, running running running. He let a small, bitter laugh, then finally was able to move his stupid feet. He made his way across the street without detection. Tundra quickly sent a thank you to whatever deity there was, then stopped in mid-prayer. Why he should thank them? If there was a deity, they'd have stopped this. Wouldn't they? Whatever. He had officially gone atheist. He shrank back into the shadows, deciding to watch and see what the monsters were going to do.
[stupids my new favorite word I feel Holden Caulfield...]
I don't know how tall 12 year olds are o_0
Cristopher Robin Tundra
Stupid name? Absolutely. My mom thought that as a baby I'd grow up to look like Cristopher Robin, you know, from Whinnie the Pooh? Yeah. Well, she was somewhat right. I have that tawny colored, shaggy hair he had. I've got brown eyes like him, but I don't wear khaki shorts and sweater vests(I think that's what he wore, I don't know.) Anyhow, I'm pretty average height for a 12 year old. Seeing as I'm going through that nasty thing called puberty, my voice cracks. It's pretty annoying. But whatever.
I guess I'm pretty laid back. That, or I'm just losing my mind. I was always the calm one of the group, the quiet one. It's weird not having those loudmouths I called friends around, trying to get me to speak up.
Speaking of them, My friends all used to call me Tundra. They're all dead now, of course. I guess I'm lucky. I was absent the day the earth quake hit, sending the building crumbling to the ground. Maybe they found survivors, I don't know. I try to not think about it to much. Now that I think about it, they were probably the lucky ones. I'd rather be dead now.
My parents died that too. My sister had stayed home with me, but she want all zombie-fied. I guess she's dead too, I don't know. I just ran. I don't know where I am now, no map, nothing. Just on my own. Maybe that's for the best.
Abilities
Besides running, I guess I have a pretty good throw. I was pitcher on my baseball team. It comes in handy, sometimes. I can chuck stuff at the monsters(that's what I've decided to call them, since I don't know what the heck they are. Maybe that's for the best.)
[[alright...time for my post!]]
[he's gonna go by Tundra o.o]
Tundra stood on a street corner. He was being stupid, he knew that. But seriously, who cared? Obviously he was the only one around. He stared up at the cracking building, then around at the rusting cars. How long had this been going on? He had no idea, he'd lost track of time ages ago, when he lost his watch. He glanced down at his clothes. What a bedraggled mess he was! He kind of wished he could have a bath...but what were the odds of that? None. He sighed and glanced nervously around, then started down the street.
That's when he heard it. He should've started running, but Tundra decided to do the stupid thing and see where it had come from. The monsters, as he liked to call them, were close by. But they hadn't seen him, yet.
Come on, stupid. Get your feet moving. He thought, but he couldn't. Where was he supposed to go? Just keep running.
Just keep running, just keep running, running running running. He let a small, bitter laugh, then finally was able to move his stupid feet. He made his way across the street without detection. Tundra quickly sent a thank you to whatever deity there was, then stopped in mid-prayer. Why he should thank them? If there was a deity, they'd have stopped this. Wouldn't they? Whatever. He had officially gone atheist. He shrank back into the shadows, deciding to watch and see what the monsters were going to do.
[stupids my new favorite word
I feel Holden Caulfield...]
Kira The Dragon Master- Posts : 4843
Join date : 2009-11-10
Age : 27
Location : Berk
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Sat Dec 31, 2011 1:28 pm
[[Sorry if this is a bit overwhelming... I'm just in a bit of a typy mood :3]]
I had been too busy staring in the coffee cup to notice them.
Shadows flicked around the corner of my eye, trees rustled yet there was no wind, and the sound of clothes muffling hit my ears like a slap in the face. My green eyes darted up to see two monsters, 'hunters' I'd heard someone call them once, Stood at either side of the table. There was a male and a female, the male had his arms crossed and had scruffy, sandy blonde hair which was splattered with blood that probably wasn't his, and the woman had long, matted, brunette hair. She was the sort of woman I'd have found rather fit back at school, but not now. Keeping my eyes fixed on them both, I pressed my hands on the table and slowly started to rise from my chair. If it was a fight they wanted, I'd happily give it to them.
But a hand grabbed my hair from behind and yanked my head back so sharply I fell back on the chair, forced to look into the hideous eyes of the leader of the three. He looked a bit older than the other two, perhaps somewhere in his early-to-mid thirties, and he was wearing a taunting grin. I felt a fine, metal blade press against my throat, which was now totally exposed because my head was pulled back so far. My adam's apple rose and fell as I swallowed quietly.
“Going somewhere, sonny?” The older one snarled,lowering his face dangerously close to mine. His breath stank of alcohol and rotting teeth.
It was then I had to decide. Did I want to die like this? I had missed my family, and Joe. But I'd killed Joe, and many others since this whole thing started. I wouldn't be meeting them in Heaven any more.
Having said that, Hell seemed somewhat appealing compared to this dump of a planet.
I glared right into the attackers eyes, feeling the blade press threateningly into my throat, so deep tht it trapped my adam's apple from moving any further. I had to decide quickly.
Did I want to live? I had nothing left to live for, in reality. But somehow I didn't really feel ready. I wasn't in the right state of mind to die without a fight.
It wasn't my time.
With this thought in mind, I smiled at the man, eyes shining, then with a quick, swift movement, grabbed the mug and hauled it at his head. He fell back, clutching his temple in surprise and swore.
In a flash I stood and began backing away from the other two slowly, slipping my hands in my pockets and pulling out the two kitchen knives. Spinning them skilfully in each hand, yet my eyes wide and blazing, I growled. “I suggest you leave.”
The younger male smirked.
“I'm warning you.” I said, raising a knife to demonstrate. “I'm not afraid to use these.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “For goodness' sake, he's a pretty boy until he talks. Perhaps we should cut out his tongue before killing him. At least he won't be able to say anything then.”
I curled my lip in disgust. The hottie wasn't so hot when she got talking, either. With a shrug, I flicked the knife so it was resting on my thumb and tossed it at the younger male, hitting him right in the centre of his chest. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, and didn't get up again.
The woman shrieked like a banshee and, due to her evident lacking of weapons, threw herself on him with her fingers clawing madly at his face. He stabbed her once, twice, three times in the middle and watched her fall to the ground next to her scruffy, blonde friend.
I stepped over the bodies back towards the table, bent down, grabbed my bag and headed towards the broken window. I took that as my cue to go.
A gun barrel clicked behind me causing me to stop, then wheel round to see the older man stood, perhaps a bit dizzy, holding a gun. I frowned. Where had he got that?
Then I glanced down at my rucksack, noticing the main zip was totally open. My gun was gone.
Ah, sh*t.
Before I could even raise my hands in surrender – a blood-coated knife was no use against a gun, unless you had inhuman reflexes to dodge the bullets (who d'you think I was,Superman?) the elder man pulled the trigger and I fell to the ground, grabbing my thigh with a hiss of pain. I guessed he'd noticed the kick, too,since I was sure he'd been aiming for my face. I groaned, gritting my teeth to hide a scream and watched his blurry silhouette walk slowly towards me, my gun in his hand...
I had been too busy staring in the coffee cup to notice them.
Shadows flicked around the corner of my eye, trees rustled yet there was no wind, and the sound of clothes muffling hit my ears like a slap in the face. My green eyes darted up to see two monsters, 'hunters' I'd heard someone call them once, Stood at either side of the table. There was a male and a female, the male had his arms crossed and had scruffy, sandy blonde hair which was splattered with blood that probably wasn't his, and the woman had long, matted, brunette hair. She was the sort of woman I'd have found rather fit back at school, but not now. Keeping my eyes fixed on them both, I pressed my hands on the table and slowly started to rise from my chair. If it was a fight they wanted, I'd happily give it to them.
But a hand grabbed my hair from behind and yanked my head back so sharply I fell back on the chair, forced to look into the hideous eyes of the leader of the three. He looked a bit older than the other two, perhaps somewhere in his early-to-mid thirties, and he was wearing a taunting grin. I felt a fine, metal blade press against my throat, which was now totally exposed because my head was pulled back so far. My adam's apple rose and fell as I swallowed quietly.
“Going somewhere, sonny?” The older one snarled,lowering his face dangerously close to mine. His breath stank of alcohol and rotting teeth.
It was then I had to decide. Did I want to die like this? I had missed my family, and Joe. But I'd killed Joe, and many others since this whole thing started. I wouldn't be meeting them in Heaven any more.
Having said that, Hell seemed somewhat appealing compared to this dump of a planet.
I glared right into the attackers eyes, feeling the blade press threateningly into my throat, so deep tht it trapped my adam's apple from moving any further. I had to decide quickly.
Did I want to live? I had nothing left to live for, in reality. But somehow I didn't really feel ready. I wasn't in the right state of mind to die without a fight.
It wasn't my time.
With this thought in mind, I smiled at the man, eyes shining, then with a quick, swift movement, grabbed the mug and hauled it at his head. He fell back, clutching his temple in surprise and swore.
In a flash I stood and began backing away from the other two slowly, slipping my hands in my pockets and pulling out the two kitchen knives. Spinning them skilfully in each hand, yet my eyes wide and blazing, I growled. “I suggest you leave.”
The younger male smirked.
“I'm warning you.” I said, raising a knife to demonstrate. “I'm not afraid to use these.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “For goodness' sake, he's a pretty boy until he talks. Perhaps we should cut out his tongue before killing him. At least he won't be able to say anything then.”
I curled my lip in disgust. The hottie wasn't so hot when she got talking, either. With a shrug, I flicked the knife so it was resting on my thumb and tossed it at the younger male, hitting him right in the centre of his chest. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, and didn't get up again.
The woman shrieked like a banshee and, due to her evident lacking of weapons, threw herself on him with her fingers clawing madly at his face. He stabbed her once, twice, three times in the middle and watched her fall to the ground next to her scruffy, blonde friend.
I stepped over the bodies back towards the table, bent down, grabbed my bag and headed towards the broken window. I took that as my cue to go.
A gun barrel clicked behind me causing me to stop, then wheel round to see the older man stood, perhaps a bit dizzy, holding a gun. I frowned. Where had he got that?
Then I glanced down at my rucksack, noticing the main zip was totally open. My gun was gone.
Ah, sh*t.
Before I could even raise my hands in surrender – a blood-coated knife was no use against a gun, unless you had inhuman reflexes to dodge the bullets (who d'you think I was,Superman?) the elder man pulled the trigger and I fell to the ground, grabbing my thigh with a hiss of pain. I guessed he'd noticed the kick, too,since I was sure he'd been aiming for my face. I groaned, gritting my teeth to hide a scream and watched his blurry silhouette walk slowly towards me, my gun in his hand...
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Batcat Sat Dec 31, 2011 1:52 pm
[[No worries. I always enjoy watching characters contemplate the meaning of life xD]]
Shae heard the commotion as the group of people closed in on whoever was in the coffee shop. Silently swearing, she stood up slowly and began to think.
Maybe whoever was in there had a gun she could use. Anything was better than the handful of knives and broken glass she had. Besides, company was always good. Who knew, maybe even it would be a hot, single guy her age. She snorted at her train of thought. It’d been so long since she’d thought of anything in that way.
But it looked as if they were nearly done. The shouting and banging had stopped, but the two she could see were still tense with the adrenaline that could only come from torture. Groaning, she was still indecisive. She had a fifty percent chance of dying, twenty five percent chance of being injured and than dying off, ten percent the human would kill her, five percent she’d become a monster to save herself and five percent she’d live. Frowning, she didn’t think it was much to look forward to. A muffled laugh beside her caused her to jump, and there she saw what had been following her this whole time. That image of her twin sister, Catherine, that had been keeping her alive, giving her advice.
“Go and save whoever it is.” Catherine whispered. Shae found it hard to concentrate. Catherine still looked perfect as ever, no trace of the blood and terror as she was brutally killed by a band of people that hadn’t even changed yet.
“Fine.” Shae muttered. It would have looked crazy to anyone else; a pretty young girl talking to the air, but no one was around to see it. Jumping up with a knife in each hand, she ran to the scene, throwing a knife at the most immediate danger, the one with the gun. It impaled itself in the man’s back, stabbing down into his spinal cord and killing him.
Wow, she thought to herself. I actually killed someone with a knife.
But there was no time to relish in her victory. The element of surprise was gone, and she was now faced with two attackers.
Hissing, she whipped out a piece of glass and threw it at the girl, who tried to dodge it. As a result, it slice across her temple, cutting that vein that ran through. She had no time to check if the person she was rescuing was okay. She didn’t even know if they were alive.
No matter.
This was her fight now, too.
Shae heard the commotion as the group of people closed in on whoever was in the coffee shop. Silently swearing, she stood up slowly and began to think.
Maybe whoever was in there had a gun she could use. Anything was better than the handful of knives and broken glass she had. Besides, company was always good. Who knew, maybe even it would be a hot, single guy her age. She snorted at her train of thought. It’d been so long since she’d thought of anything in that way.
But it looked as if they were nearly done. The shouting and banging had stopped, but the two she could see were still tense with the adrenaline that could only come from torture. Groaning, she was still indecisive. She had a fifty percent chance of dying, twenty five percent chance of being injured and than dying off, ten percent the human would kill her, five percent she’d become a monster to save herself and five percent she’d live. Frowning, she didn’t think it was much to look forward to. A muffled laugh beside her caused her to jump, and there she saw what had been following her this whole time. That image of her twin sister, Catherine, that had been keeping her alive, giving her advice.
“Go and save whoever it is.” Catherine whispered. Shae found it hard to concentrate. Catherine still looked perfect as ever, no trace of the blood and terror as she was brutally killed by a band of people that hadn’t even changed yet.
“Fine.” Shae muttered. It would have looked crazy to anyone else; a pretty young girl talking to the air, but no one was around to see it. Jumping up with a knife in each hand, she ran to the scene, throwing a knife at the most immediate danger, the one with the gun. It impaled itself in the man’s back, stabbing down into his spinal cord and killing him.
Wow, she thought to herself. I actually killed someone with a knife.
But there was no time to relish in her victory. The element of surprise was gone, and she was now faced with two attackers.
Hissing, she whipped out a piece of glass and threw it at the girl, who tried to dodge it. As a result, it slice across her temple, cutting that vein that ran through. She had no time to check if the person she was rescuing was okay. She didn’t even know if they were alive.
No matter.
This was her fight now, too.
Batcat- Posts : 4041
Join date : 2009-12-24
Age : 26
Location : Imre -
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Polo trapped in an inkpot Sat Dec 31, 2011 3:10 pm
((Woop! Dudes, SO AMPED!!! XD
But totally can't be bothered to read all your posts. They're too long - you guys are too awesome, and I'm too lazy. XD So can you let me know what's going on and where you want me to start?
Meanwhile, here's my character: ))
Character:
Name: Mitch ‘Matches’ Reid
Age: 19 Years
Gender: Male
Gang: Sons Of Saints
History: Mitch has no memory of his parents – not even a foggy dream, or a crumpled old photograph. His first memories are of the orphanage where he spent his childhood years, timid and alone. He was a different person back then – just a boy, shy and cowardly. The other children took advantage, forever bullying him and pushing him around. It became worse and worse, and by the time he turned twelve, he could take it no longer.
He ran away, then – and the next few months saw him living on the streets, surviving off petty crimes, until finally – his life started in earnest. He was found by the deadly gang, Sons of Saints. They took him in, and as the years went by, he rapidly climbed the ranks. He became known especially for his enthusiasm towards arson, his fierce loyalty towards the gang, and his complete lack of sympathy when faced by anybody considered an enemy. He gained the nickname ‘Matches’ through his tendency for arson, which led him to start a series of deadly fires which claimed a great many lives, and even more publicity – thus making Sons Of Saints the most dangerously regarded gang in the city.
This put Mitch right in the top ranks, on par with the other members constantly battling it out to become leader. He never bothered to involve himself in these scuffles – and in a way, it was this more than anything that gained the members’ respect, and they soon began to regard him as their leader without even realising it.
But of course, it was not to last…
The gang was wiped out completely before too long. Between the earthquakes and the insanity, they dropped like flies. It didn’t matter any more who was the toughest, the bravest, or the best fighter. It didn’t matter how ruthless they were – because the infected would always be most ruthless of all.
They killed themselves, they killed each other… And in the end, only Mitch was left. If there were other survivors, he had no idea.
Now, his only goal is to survive. The past doesn’t matter any more – it’s just a net of memories to fall back on… To catch him each time he falls, and set him back on his feet to fight once again.
Personality: Fiercely loyal. Unscrupulous. Violent. He tends to be quite dependent on others, yet his generally quiet ‘loner’ type attitude still makes others regard him as independent. He comes across as having loose morals – but in reality, his morals just differ hugely from the norm. He can be Hellishly stubborn in some situations, and relatively blasé in others. He is also quite easily influenced, and his entire personality can tend to fluctuate often due to his drug addiction.
Abilities: Mitch is a monster. He doesn’t give a crap what he’s armed with, as long as he gets to draw blood. He’s handy with a gun, because his aim is good, and his temper is generally cool. He doesn’t crack under pressure, so he is always free to focus on his aim. Unfortunately, a gun is not his favourite weapon. He prefers close combat – getting up-close and personal with his enemy, so he can see the result of each blow, and feel each little victory in his opponent’s pain. His favourite weapon is fire – be it an alcohol bomb, or a flaming torch – but the days of slow torture are over. These days, it’s kill or be killed.
Abilities…? To sum it up, Mitch is a fighter by blood. He’ll take what he’s given, and fight ‘til he drops. Literally.
Drawbacks: Well, for starters, he's stoned 80% of the time, and the other 20% he's off looking for drugs to satisfy his addiction. Mitch can be shockingly reckless, and often takes unnecessary risks that endanger his life. He can be too quick to condemn others, and too slow to trust. He prefers to work on his own, and wouldn’t ask for help even if it costs him his life. Many a time his ‘lone wolf’ tendencies have caused him to become outnumbered, and almost lose his life. He also tends to be very closed off, and often violent even toward fellow survivors. It often seems that he would cut down a comrade without even blinking an eye – insane or not. He seems more like those he fights against, than those he fights with. If he was mistaken for one of the insane, it would not be the first time.
Appearance: http://cdn.pimpmyspace.org/media/pms/c/hu/we/76/dsahaircut.jpg
((Sorry, can't really be bothered with appearance, so... XD Don't worry too much about the description, I tend to just RP everything out anyway. ))
But totally can't be bothered to read all your posts. They're too long - you guys are too awesome, and I'm too lazy. XD So can you let me know what's going on and where you want me to start?
Meanwhile, here's my character: ))
Character:
Name: Mitch ‘Matches’ Reid
Age: 19 Years
Gender: Male
Gang: Sons Of Saints
History: Mitch has no memory of his parents – not even a foggy dream, or a crumpled old photograph. His first memories are of the orphanage where he spent his childhood years, timid and alone. He was a different person back then – just a boy, shy and cowardly. The other children took advantage, forever bullying him and pushing him around. It became worse and worse, and by the time he turned twelve, he could take it no longer.
He ran away, then – and the next few months saw him living on the streets, surviving off petty crimes, until finally – his life started in earnest. He was found by the deadly gang, Sons of Saints. They took him in, and as the years went by, he rapidly climbed the ranks. He became known especially for his enthusiasm towards arson, his fierce loyalty towards the gang, and his complete lack of sympathy when faced by anybody considered an enemy. He gained the nickname ‘Matches’ through his tendency for arson, which led him to start a series of deadly fires which claimed a great many lives, and even more publicity – thus making Sons Of Saints the most dangerously regarded gang in the city.
This put Mitch right in the top ranks, on par with the other members constantly battling it out to become leader. He never bothered to involve himself in these scuffles – and in a way, it was this more than anything that gained the members’ respect, and they soon began to regard him as their leader without even realising it.
But of course, it was not to last…
The gang was wiped out completely before too long. Between the earthquakes and the insanity, they dropped like flies. It didn’t matter any more who was the toughest, the bravest, or the best fighter. It didn’t matter how ruthless they were – because the infected would always be most ruthless of all.
They killed themselves, they killed each other… And in the end, only Mitch was left. If there were other survivors, he had no idea.
Now, his only goal is to survive. The past doesn’t matter any more – it’s just a net of memories to fall back on… To catch him each time he falls, and set him back on his feet to fight once again.
Personality: Fiercely loyal. Unscrupulous. Violent. He tends to be quite dependent on others, yet his generally quiet ‘loner’ type attitude still makes others regard him as independent. He comes across as having loose morals – but in reality, his morals just differ hugely from the norm. He can be Hellishly stubborn in some situations, and relatively blasé in others. He is also quite easily influenced, and his entire personality can tend to fluctuate often due to his drug addiction.
Abilities: Mitch is a monster. He doesn’t give a crap what he’s armed with, as long as he gets to draw blood. He’s handy with a gun, because his aim is good, and his temper is generally cool. He doesn’t crack under pressure, so he is always free to focus on his aim. Unfortunately, a gun is not his favourite weapon. He prefers close combat – getting up-close and personal with his enemy, so he can see the result of each blow, and feel each little victory in his opponent’s pain. His favourite weapon is fire – be it an alcohol bomb, or a flaming torch – but the days of slow torture are over. These days, it’s kill or be killed.
Abilities…? To sum it up, Mitch is a fighter by blood. He’ll take what he’s given, and fight ‘til he drops. Literally.
Drawbacks: Well, for starters, he's stoned 80% of the time, and the other 20% he's off looking for drugs to satisfy his addiction. Mitch can be shockingly reckless, and often takes unnecessary risks that endanger his life. He can be too quick to condemn others, and too slow to trust. He prefers to work on his own, and wouldn’t ask for help even if it costs him his life. Many a time his ‘lone wolf’ tendencies have caused him to become outnumbered, and almost lose his life. He also tends to be very closed off, and often violent even toward fellow survivors. It often seems that he would cut down a comrade without even blinking an eye – insane or not. He seems more like those he fights against, than those he fights with. If he was mistaken for one of the insane, it would not be the first time.
Appearance: http://cdn.pimpmyspace.org/media/pms/c/hu/we/76/dsahaircut.jpg
((Sorry, can't really be bothered with appearance, so... XD Don't worry too much about the description, I tend to just RP everything out anyway.
))
Polo trapped in an inkpot- Posts : 8695
Join date : 2010-04-14
Age : 29
Location : With the beast under your bed, in your closet, in your head...
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Sat Dec 31, 2011 3:15 pm
[[Reid!! I'll read him in a minute, once I've posted this. XD Basically, they're in a coffee shop. Daniel (My charri) has been shot in the leg because he's careless, and Shae {Batcat's charri) has saved his sorry ass by running to his rescue. ]]
Blood seeped sickeningly out of my thigh, and I clutched it desperately with both hands. This wasn't what I was planning, I thought in annoyance. If this thing gets infected,it doesn't matter who the hell I'm with, I'm done for. I raised my eyes slowly, expecting to see a gun nib pointed at my face and a shadow wearing a victorious sneer, but instead I saw the back of a girl.
Nice ass, I thought automatically, not really bothering whether she was one of Them of not.
She had her back to me, and she was carrying a knife. I gulped.
I didn't want to die from getting cut open, like how you skin animals. I didn't want to be skinned. The pain of my leg was enough, thanks.
Or maybe she'd be nice. Maybe she'd slit my throat or something. That sounded a bit more pleasant than being skinned alive.
I sucked in a breath, hugging my thigh like a little kid hugs it's teddy in bed if it was scared of the dark, and prepared for whatever pain she was ready to inflict.
But hold on, she'd just attacked the guy with my gun. And now she'd just cut a slit in the hottie that had tried to scratch my eyes out before.
Okay, she was safe, at least.
But she didn't look all that confident any more. Why did she look so unconfident? Come on, genius. Throw the knife. He can't be that hard to beat, I already stabbed him once.
“Get...” I choked, suddenly surprised at how difficult it was to talk when blood was oozing out of your leg. “Get him in the chest. Or the forehead. The head's quicker.” I propped my body onto one elbow and looked up at her, flashing her a tiny smirk. “Depends on how brave you're feeling today, honey.”
I'll read him in a minute, once I've posted this. XD Basically, they're in a coffee shop. Daniel (My charri) has been shot in the leg because he's careless, and Shae {Batcat's charri) has saved his sorry ass by running to his rescue. ]]Blood seeped sickeningly out of my thigh, and I clutched it desperately with both hands. This wasn't what I was planning, I thought in annoyance. If this thing gets infected,it doesn't matter who the hell I'm with, I'm done for. I raised my eyes slowly, expecting to see a gun nib pointed at my face and a shadow wearing a victorious sneer, but instead I saw the back of a girl.
Nice ass, I thought automatically, not really bothering whether she was one of Them of not.
She had her back to me, and she was carrying a knife. I gulped.
I didn't want to die from getting cut open, like how you skin animals. I didn't want to be skinned. The pain of my leg was enough, thanks.
Or maybe she'd be nice. Maybe she'd slit my throat or something. That sounded a bit more pleasant than being skinned alive.
I sucked in a breath, hugging my thigh like a little kid hugs it's teddy in bed if it was scared of the dark, and prepared for whatever pain she was ready to inflict.
But hold on, she'd just attacked the guy with my gun. And now she'd just cut a slit in the hottie that had tried to scratch my eyes out before.
Okay, she was safe, at least.
But she didn't look all that confident any more. Why did she look so unconfident? Come on, genius. Throw the knife. He can't be that hard to beat, I already stabbed him once.
“Get...” I choked, suddenly surprised at how difficult it was to talk when blood was oozing out of your leg. “Get him in the chest. Or the forehead. The head's quicker.” I propped my body onto one elbow and looked up at her, flashing her a tiny smirk. “Depends on how brave you're feeling today, honey.”
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Sat Dec 31, 2011 3:21 pm
[[Wow, Polo. He's amazing! And totally cute 
Nawww, we have a pretty bad mix of charris here,but hey! All the better They're all going to get along so badly, and Poor old Danny boy's going to end up getting killed by one of them at some point...
OMW, Polo,I totally thought you were Kira. Kira did post at some point... I just confused myself. O.o]]
And totally cute Nawww, we have a pretty bad mix of charris here,but hey! All the better They're all going to get along so badly, and Poor old Danny boy's going to end up getting killed by one of them at some point... OMW, Polo,I totally thought you were Kira. Kira did post at some point... I just confused myself. O.o]]
Last edited by Dreameh the Apocalyptic on Sat Dec 31, 2011 5:46 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Sorry Polo! XD)
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Polo trapped in an inkpot Sat Dec 31, 2011 5:25 pm
((Hope this is okay. o_0 Still have to grasp this character, and I wasn't totally sure what to do... O.o I'm terrible in group RPs, so PLEASE, if I mess anything up, just tell me to edit. XD ))
Mitch frowned as he felt the uncomfortable sensation of dampness seeping through the seat of the tatty black jeans he wore. He pulled a face and stood up, brushing his hands over his back pockets as though he could wipe the water away. Even though he knew he couldn’t, it was a natural reaction – the feeling was most unpleasant, after all…
But hey, that was what he got for sitting on a basin in a long-abandoned public bathroom. Why was he sitting in a basin? Well, that was a good question – but a better one would be why the people on the streets were so obsessed with killing one another. Compared to that, what the Hell did his wet ass matter?
He yawned, flicking aside the used stub of the thin white cigarette he had been smoking. The scent that issued from his open mouth was certainly not that of nicotine.
His bloodshot eyes darted toward the nearest cubicle, acknowledging that perhaps the toilet would have been a wiser seating choice. Lid shut, of course… But he just couldn’t look at that toilet the same way now that some lunatic’s dead head was soaking in it.
Hey, he didn’t keep his gun out when he was taking a leak. So when he was ambushed, drowning the guy had seemed as good an attack as any. Not only did the porcelain of the toilet serve as a handy surface to smash his head into, but the convenient water would make certain that the beat-up creep never opened his black-stained eyes again.
With a derisive snort, Mitch turned away from the scene, and left the bathroom with his head held high.
As he left the wreckage of what had once been a gas station ((Gas, not petrol, since I assume they’re in America? O.o )) he heard a shriek coming from nearby, and his curiosity piqued. He was generally not one to involve himself in others’ troubles – but with adrenaline pumping through his veins, he had to admit that he liked the idea of a bloody battle.
Perhaps he was a fool… But if folly had got him this far, then obviously it had its advantages.
Shrugging, he raised what was left of the beer he had found to his lips, and downed it in one – then he smashed the bottle artfully against the wall, and sauntered toward the little coffee shop with weapon in hand.
He kicked the door open, and walked in with a swagger, acting as if he owned the place. When he was high, he was invincible. Untouchable.
King of the World…
His eyes took in the scene, and within a moment, he had grasped it.
One corpse, one boy – perhaps a little younger than himself – injured and fallen.
Then there was the girl… A nice sort. Probably the kind that the gang would have messed around with in the past… Axe had always been particularly partial to the ladies, but not him. He preferred gang fights and arson…
With a smirk, Mitch shifted his weight into the defensive stance, and waited to see the situation unfold.
The girl was sane, he could tell – and judging by the fact that she was protecting him, the boy was sane, too.
He would be ally or enemy to them, he didn’t care. They could make of him what they wold – and he would act accordingly. He was too high to give a f**k whose blood he spilled, just as long as it was the same warm crimson he had learned to hold so dear.
His hand tightened around the jagged glass bottle in his hand – gun left untouched at his belt.
Screw safety… He was in it for the rush.
Mitch frowned as he felt the uncomfortable sensation of dampness seeping through the seat of the tatty black jeans he wore. He pulled a face and stood up, brushing his hands over his back pockets as though he could wipe the water away. Even though he knew he couldn’t, it was a natural reaction – the feeling was most unpleasant, after all…
But hey, that was what he got for sitting on a basin in a long-abandoned public bathroom. Why was he sitting in a basin? Well, that was a good question – but a better one would be why the people on the streets were so obsessed with killing one another. Compared to that, what the Hell did his wet ass matter?
He yawned, flicking aside the used stub of the thin white cigarette he had been smoking. The scent that issued from his open mouth was certainly not that of nicotine.
His bloodshot eyes darted toward the nearest cubicle, acknowledging that perhaps the toilet would have been a wiser seating choice. Lid shut, of course… But he just couldn’t look at that toilet the same way now that some lunatic’s dead head was soaking in it.
Hey, he didn’t keep his gun out when he was taking a leak. So when he was ambushed, drowning the guy had seemed as good an attack as any. Not only did the porcelain of the toilet serve as a handy surface to smash his head into, but the convenient water would make certain that the beat-up creep never opened his black-stained eyes again.
With a derisive snort, Mitch turned away from the scene, and left the bathroom with his head held high.
As he left the wreckage of what had once been a gas station ((Gas, not petrol, since I assume they’re in America? O.o )) he heard a shriek coming from nearby, and his curiosity piqued. He was generally not one to involve himself in others’ troubles – but with adrenaline pumping through his veins, he had to admit that he liked the idea of a bloody battle.
Perhaps he was a fool… But if folly had got him this far, then obviously it had its advantages.
Shrugging, he raised what was left of the beer he had found to his lips, and downed it in one – then he smashed the bottle artfully against the wall, and sauntered toward the little coffee shop with weapon in hand.
He kicked the door open, and walked in with a swagger, acting as if he owned the place. When he was high, he was invincible. Untouchable.
King of the World…
His eyes took in the scene, and within a moment, he had grasped it.
One corpse, one boy – perhaps a little younger than himself – injured and fallen.
Then there was the girl… A nice sort. Probably the kind that the gang would have messed around with in the past… Axe had always been particularly partial to the ladies, but not him. He preferred gang fights and arson…
With a smirk, Mitch shifted his weight into the defensive stance, and waited to see the situation unfold.
The girl was sane, he could tell – and judging by the fact that she was protecting him, the boy was sane, too.
He would be ally or enemy to them, he didn’t care. They could make of him what they wold – and he would act accordingly. He was too high to give a f**k whose blood he spilled, just as long as it was the same warm crimson he had learned to hold so dear.
His hand tightened around the jagged glass bottle in his hand – gun left untouched at his belt.
Screw safety… He was in it for the rush.
Polo trapped in an inkpot- Posts : 8695
Join date : 2010-04-14
Age : 29
Location : With the beast under your bed, in your closet, in your head...
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Sat Dec 31, 2011 5:48 pm
[[Kira did post! Oh God, I'm really losing it guys! XD Awesome charri, Kira. I read Polo's thinking it was yoursXD Shall read yours now ]]
I read Polo's thinking it was yoursXD Shall read yours now ]]
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Polo trapped in an inkpot Sat Dec 31, 2011 5:59 pm
((Dude. You're mean... Just saying. XD
I am Polo. Say it with me: Poooo-looooo. P.O.L.O. Y'know, like the car? Or the clothing brand? Or the mints? Or the leg wraps? Or the horseback game?! o_0
Meanie meanie meanie... Don't notice me at all... Tut tut...
Just kidding. *Poke-poke-poke*
Oh, and in case you missed it, I've done my starting post. It's up there. *Points* That is mine, Polo's, not Kira's.
))
I am Polo. Say it with me: Poooo-looooo. P.O.L.O. Y'know, like the car? Or the clothing brand? Or the mints? Or the leg wraps? Or the horseback game?! o_0
Meanie meanie meanie... Don't notice me at all... Tut tut...
Just kidding.
*Poke-poke-poke*Oh, and in case you missed it, I've done my starting post. It's up there. *Points* That is mine, Polo's, not Kira's.
))
Polo trapped in an inkpot- Posts : 8695
Join date : 2010-04-14
Age : 29
Location : With the beast under your bed, in your closet, in your head...
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Kira The Dragon Master Sat Dec 31, 2011 6:18 pm
[oh...goodness. I'm horrid at group role-plays...ugh. Okay. Let's see. I'll just let you three join up, then pop in. Yeah, sounds good.
Awesome character, btw Polo xD]
Awesome character, btw Polo xD]
Kira The Dragon Master- Posts : 4843
Join date : 2009-11-10
Age : 27
Location : Berk
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Sat Dec 31, 2011 6:21 pm
[[I'm sorry... 
Pooooo-Looooo XD Haha. *resists temptation to crack toilet jokes* 
I have read it, neverfear. I love him. I think all the charries will get along so badly. There's nothing better, really. I shall reply in the morning, though. Too tired, now. ^_^]]
Pooooo-Looooo XD Haha. *resists temptation to crack toilet jokes* I have read it, neverfear. I love him. I think all the charries will get along so badly. There's nothing better, really. I shall reply in the morning, though. Too tired, now. ^_^]]Last edited by Dreameh the Apocalyptic on Sun Jan 01, 2012 4:50 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : That would be 'sorry' not 'worry' *glares at keyboard* -_-)
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Batcat Sun Jan 01, 2012 12:20 am
[[Yay!! Not too far without me! Although Shae is kinda necessary at this point... Anyway happy new year's to everyone. I am at a friend's house so I won't be posting. I love you and I will be back tomorrow with more kick-ass people killing 
]]
]]
Batcat- Posts : 4041
Join date : 2009-12-24
Age : 26
Location : Imre -
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Kira The Dragon Master Sun Jan 01, 2012 12:56 am
[argon blargh. I guess I have to jump in the band wagon now...or else I'll miss everything...gah. This characters an experiment, FYI. So. He might fail miserably. sorry xD]
Tundra watched as two people entered the shop. A girl, then a guy. Okay. So there was something important in that. Probably another person. The thought made his brain go into a tizzy. 3 other sane people! Of course judging by the boy and the girl, they were older. Well, that was intimidating. But not as intimidating as the threat of more monsters. Maybe he could be of assistance to them, though it was doubtful. He'd probably just get in the way, but his flight senses were kicking in. Despite his doubts, he found himself migrating to the shop.
He walked in casually, then stopped. What the heck was he doing?! He had no defenses, and he just walked into a fight. A real one. One of the monsters was already dead from what he could tell, and the thing they were protecting was in fact another person. They were all sane, like him. And they were all older, much much older. Well that was no help to his self-esteem. He grabbed the nearest thing to him that could cause infliction, which was a shard of glass, and winced when it jabbed into his skin. He adjusted his grip, pleased to find that it hadn't broken skin. Obviously his hands had callouses, which protected them like gloves.
He glanced around, not sure what to do. He honestly didn't know what possessed him to come in here. There was nothing for him, he'd probably end up getting killed. But that prospect seemed to be more inviting than his outlook of surviving, if he did. Of course with his newfound atheism, he'd probably go to hell. If there was one.
Tundra felt himself shaking despite the grim line he had his mouth set in. He decided he would just protect himself, try to get anything that came at him.
That's when it hit him. The reason why'd he come. It'd been forever since he'd had a real conversation with anyone but himself. Maybe the aspect of sanity was so inviting, he was willing to give himself up for just a slice of humanity. But, were any of them even considered human? They weren't the monsters, yes, but every bit of humanity he'd felt in him before was gone. What would he do now?
He adjusted his grip again, as if daring anything to come near him. So this was what it had come to. Fighting for a bit of this faux humanity. Well then, so be it.
Come at me bro.
[sorry, the come at me bro thing just had to be done...nothing like ringing in the apocalyptic year with an apocalyptic role-play! Happy new year everyone
and sorry if I screwed anything up D: I suck at these group things...I'm sorry. XD]
Tundra watched as two people entered the shop. A girl, then a guy. Okay. So there was something important in that. Probably another person. The thought made his brain go into a tizzy. 3 other sane people! Of course judging by the boy and the girl, they were older. Well, that was intimidating. But not as intimidating as the threat of more monsters. Maybe he could be of assistance to them, though it was doubtful. He'd probably just get in the way, but his flight senses were kicking in. Despite his doubts, he found himself migrating to the shop.
He walked in casually, then stopped. What the heck was he doing?! He had no defenses, and he just walked into a fight. A real one. One of the monsters was already dead from what he could tell, and the thing they were protecting was in fact another person. They were all sane, like him. And they were all older, much much older. Well that was no help to his self-esteem. He grabbed the nearest thing to him that could cause infliction, which was a shard of glass, and winced when it jabbed into his skin. He adjusted his grip, pleased to find that it hadn't broken skin. Obviously his hands had callouses, which protected them like gloves.
He glanced around, not sure what to do. He honestly didn't know what possessed him to come in here. There was nothing for him, he'd probably end up getting killed. But that prospect seemed to be more inviting than his outlook of surviving, if he did. Of course with his newfound atheism, he'd probably go to hell. If there was one.
Tundra felt himself shaking despite the grim line he had his mouth set in. He decided he would just protect himself, try to get anything that came at him.
That's when it hit him. The reason why'd he come. It'd been forever since he'd had a real conversation with anyone but himself. Maybe the aspect of sanity was so inviting, he was willing to give himself up for just a slice of humanity. But, were any of them even considered human? They weren't the monsters, yes, but every bit of humanity he'd felt in him before was gone. What would he do now?
He adjusted his grip again, as if daring anything to come near him. So this was what it had come to. Fighting for a bit of this faux humanity. Well then, so be it.
Come at me bro.
[sorry, the come at me bro thing just had to be done...nothing like ringing in the apocalyptic year with an apocalyptic role-play! Happy new year everyone
and sorry if I screwed anything up D: I suck at these group things...I'm sorry. XD]
Kira The Dragon Master- Posts : 4843
Join date : 2009-11-10
Age : 27
Location : Berk
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Polo trapped in an inkpot Sun Jan 01, 2012 3:59 am
((Dude, Kira, I'm totally the same. XD Group roleplays are friggin scary. O.o
Plus, now I totally want to post, but I don't know if I can - because I think I need either Battleaxe or Dreambug to post first... O.o
Hey, at least we're all homies. XD (Yeah, I did totally just go there.) So it's okay.
Bwahahahahaha! Dez has infected me with his strange new lingo thing. ))
Plus, now I totally want to post, but I don't know if I can - because I think I need either Battleaxe or Dreambug to post first... O.o
Hey, at least we're all homies. XD (Yeah, I did totally just go there.) So it's okay.
Bwahahahahaha! Dez has infected me with his strange new lingo thing.
))
Polo trapped in an inkpot- Posts : 8695
Join date : 2010-04-14
Age : 29
Location : With the beast under your bed, in your closet, in your head...
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Kira The Dragon Master Sun Jan 01, 2012 5:31 am
[ikr? O_o they scare me so much D': the nightmares...come alive...just kidding!!! ....or am I?
I'm always terrified I'm gonna like screw over someone's plan, if you couldn't tell by my dozens of apologies. but yeah, Batty and Dreameh kinda have to post before we continue...they're important. Darn you wheel of importance!
oh no, he's contagious o.o *sticks on a sterile mask* now I'm safe!]
I'm always terrified I'm gonna like screw over someone's plan, if you couldn't tell by my dozens of apologies.
but yeah, Batty and Dreameh kinda have to post before we continue...they're important. Darn you wheel of importance!oh no, he's contagious o.o *sticks on a sterile mask* now I'm safe!]
Kira The Dragon Master- Posts : 4843
Join date : 2009-11-10
Age : 27
Location : Berk
Re: Dark Inside: The Apocalypse [[Teen/survival]]
Dreambug Sun Jan 01, 2012 6:12 am
[[I've not done a group one this big in a while either, so don't worry about it. Don't be afraid to tell me if I've gone off in the wrong direction on anything, I'm stupid. :3 ]]
I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back the screams as the blood left my thigh. Thigh, couldn't it have been anywhere else, like my calf? You can limp it off if it's your calf, but your thigh's too close to your body, and just ends up f***ing up you're entire leg. I didn't even want to know what my foot looked like.
Not that I'd ever want to know, anyway...
To more people appeared at the door, and for a moment one thought came to mind. We're dead. We're so dead.
Why else would they be here? From what I'd gathered, the monsters found each other before they found humans, depending on how many humans were about. Joe, of course, was an exception, because I'd been right beside him when he turned. They'd obviously sensed others around and come to see if there was any kill left.
But then when I looked up, I realised the older one had neither killed or approached the girl in front of me, but was staring at the remaining, stood monster, armed with what looked to be a broken glass bottle. He looked overly confident, and hi face was slightly pale in a way illness couldn't create. I'd recognise that look from anywhere. The idiot was off his head.
There was a smaller male behind him, and at first I thought it was a trick of the eye. His face was shadowed but he, too, wasn't fighting nor approaching any of us.
I dragged myself over the the eldest monster's body and snatched my gun back. I'll take that back, thanks. I thought, checking to make sure there were still bullets in there, and cocked the barrel.
Who was I kidding? I could barely use the damned thing in good health, how did I plan on using it effectively whilst scrabbling around on the ground with a bullet wound in my thigh?
Grumbling at how helpless I actually was, I shifted back to my backpack and tossed the gun in the main section, zipping it closed, then pushing myself back against the wall beside the broken window, brushing away the glass to keep from stabbing myself in the backside.
That would be most humiliating...
Placing the backpack beside me, I fumbled around with my jacket and yanked off one of the sleeves with my teeth. I then turned to the smaller kid nearer by the doorway and coked my head to gesture for him to come over.
“Hey, you. Kid. Shrimpy. Small fry. Come here.” I whistled through a gap of my teeth. “Give me a hand with this, would you?” I wriggled one arm out of my jacket and managed to pull it off my back. I then concentrated on getting my t-shirt off.
I refused to use the jacket as a bandage. I'd never forgive myself if it stained.
The t-shirt, however, was much more difficult and I needed help pulling it over my head, due to the constant tension in my torso caused my legs to tense up further,and the sticky blood to flow further out onto my jeans.
The girl and stoned guy would be able to take the remaining monster between them, as long as they were okay to fight.
None of us really had a choice, anyway. It was either do that or die.
[[Nawww, he's not very nice, is he? Small fry... *snickers *]]
I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back the screams as the blood left my thigh. Thigh, couldn't it have been anywhere else, like my calf? You can limp it off if it's your calf, but your thigh's too close to your body, and just ends up f***ing up you're entire leg. I didn't even want to know what my foot looked like.
Not that I'd ever want to know, anyway...
To more people appeared at the door, and for a moment one thought came to mind. We're dead. We're so dead.
Why else would they be here? From what I'd gathered, the monsters found each other before they found humans, depending on how many humans were about. Joe, of course, was an exception, because I'd been right beside him when he turned. They'd obviously sensed others around and come to see if there was any kill left.
But then when I looked up, I realised the older one had neither killed or approached the girl in front of me, but was staring at the remaining, stood monster, armed with what looked to be a broken glass bottle. He looked overly confident, and hi face was slightly pale in a way illness couldn't create. I'd recognise that look from anywhere. The idiot was off his head.
There was a smaller male behind him, and at first I thought it was a trick of the eye. His face was shadowed but he, too, wasn't fighting nor approaching any of us.
I dragged myself over the the eldest monster's body and snatched my gun back. I'll take that back, thanks. I thought, checking to make sure there were still bullets in there, and cocked the barrel.
Who was I kidding? I could barely use the damned thing in good health, how did I plan on using it effectively whilst scrabbling around on the ground with a bullet wound in my thigh?
Grumbling at how helpless I actually was, I shifted back to my backpack and tossed the gun in the main section, zipping it closed, then pushing myself back against the wall beside the broken window, brushing away the glass to keep from stabbing myself in the backside.
That would be most humiliating...
Placing the backpack beside me, I fumbled around with my jacket and yanked off one of the sleeves with my teeth. I then turned to the smaller kid nearer by the doorway and coked my head to gesture for him to come over.
“Hey, you. Kid. Shrimpy. Small fry. Come here.” I whistled through a gap of my teeth. “Give me a hand with this, would you?” I wriggled one arm out of my jacket and managed to pull it off my back. I then concentrated on getting my t-shirt off.
I refused to use the jacket as a bandage. I'd never forgive myself if it stained.
The t-shirt, however, was much more difficult and I needed help pulling it over my head, due to the constant tension in my torso caused my legs to tense up further,and the sticky blood to flow further out onto my jeans.
The girl and stoned guy would be able to take the remaining monster between them, as long as they were okay to fight.
None of us really had a choice, anyway. It was either do that or die.
[[Nawww, he's not very nice, is he? Small fry... *snickers *]]
Dreambug- Posts : 3511
Join date : 2010-06-18
Age : 28
Location : Nomming teddy with baby Gaara. <3
Page 1 of 19 • 1, 2, 3 ... 10 ... 19
Page 1 of 19
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum|
|
|