|
| 19 Aug 2012 07:37 PM |
No changing your character sheet now, sorry.
Your eyes flutter open. Before anything, you remember your name: Paul T. Tex
Slowly, you get up. You are covered in dust and various rubble. More memories come flooding back, like where you were before you passed out: In a boat, drifting at the Chicago harbor.
A broken shard of glass is right next to where you woke up. you look at it, looking over your appearance (Include Gender, Clothing, Eye Color, Hair Color, Height, Weight, Blah Blah Blah):Paul wears a plain jacket, in a artic snow color. A few snow flakes colored black, it was really quite nice. He wears a blueish colored scarf, nearly a pale snow color too. The fabric is weaven with expert skill, nobody would have guessed it came from a dead man's sweater. For pants he wears jeans, with bear fur stiched into the seams, for warmth. He wears gloves, also expertly made, three green stream lines in the palm. He wears boots, falling at the seams. He keeps promising himself to fix them up sometime, but that always seems a week away. Going back to the jacket, there is a pocket, with two knives, just barely above his heart. There is also a hood, in the same artic color. He wears a sort of band, colored in bright red. For a shirt he simply wears a orange T-Shirt, with the back of it a star on it. He wears a pinned black star medal on the shirt too. He has a necklace, with a tooth. Someone once said it came from a shark, but he doesn't quite believe that. The band going around it, is in-fabricated with red and blue frays. He wears a black cowboy hat, mixed with red and blue strands for it. For facial features now. He has blue, sweet blue eyes, the ones full of hope of a better tommorrow. He has black hair, shiny, crisp black hair. He has no strength at all, and he finds it a miracle he can lift twenty pounds. He has a gold tooth to the slight left of his front tooth, and it often flashes, quite the annoyance for anyone next to him. His back is stream line, with two elbowy shoulder blades sticking out. He has a slight scar right under his ankle, and he has a huge scar, from a knife a long time ago, on his right arm, under his elbow by about four inches. He has normal ears and a normal nose. Nothing else is too remarkable about him.
MALE
More things come to mind, like what you did before you got to this wretched place. (Bio):Backstory? Oh boy. I was born in some kind of fallen farm, north of Novium, but close enough to Novium for walking distance. My mother died from frost, just two months after I was born. I can remember my father heading out, with a shovel, and two roses... the ground was barely thawed just to put her body there... it was sad. My father gave me my mother's small knitting thing, my blanket currently. Dad tried to finish it, but he wasn't good at sewing. It was big enough for me to cuddle up in for the nights, and I quite faintly remember me slowly learning how to sew. About four years later, I actually started to sow blanky to completion. I slowly drew in the snow too, often. My father came to teach me some tips about art, as he drew for extra money. I learned a lot from him. I was sent to an old shack for schooling, seemed pretty nice being taught how to count, and write. Speeding up to when I was seven, I sold my first picture. For just enough for a glass of milk, but I swear that was probably my happiest time. Just two months after that, my father died from a bandit. I hid in the cellar, not quite sure what is happening... and then, basically.. I had to farm and draw to earn money. I kept a garden, just enough to feed myself for the next seven years. Fourteen came around, and I signed up for teaching. I earned enough to pass me for a week, and I slowly grew used to the life of a teacher in my next six years. Now I became an explorer, and the rest is history.
Finally, you realize where you were heading before you blacked out (If you payed any attention whatsoever you should know this): Washington, DC!
We begin as soon as you post. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
| 19 Aug 2012 07:43 PM |
| ( No problem, i would perfer if you didn't give him any advice or instructions though.) |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
| |
|
|
| 19 Aug 2012 07:47 PM |
Ok, lets get this thing started.
You wake up. Your feet are sunken in the mud, and you are soaked. The remains of your boat lay ruined, crashed into the docks a few yards away. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 19 Aug 2012 07:51 PM |
| Get up, and scavenge the boat. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 19 Aug 2012 07:56 PM |
| There is little left to get. The main cabin of the boat is covered by an immobile hunk of metal. A few bits of scrap cover the dock. You see a hand of some sort hanging onto the side of the boat, its skin blotched with pale spots. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 19 Aug 2012 07:59 PM |
| Oh boy. Start moving north, in attempt to get away from what I know will happen. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 19 Aug 2012 08:05 PM |
After about thirty seconds, you come up to a small circle with three small stands: A ice cream shop {Friendship on the lake: The place where friends come} A newstand, with only one ripped up Newspaper {Military coming to save chicago tommorow! (The date is two months ago)}
And a telaphone booth thats sitting on its side with all the window's broken. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 19 Aug 2012 08:06 PM |
Check out the ice cream shop, then the newspaper stand. The telephone booth is.. suspicious. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 19 Aug 2012 08:09 PM |
(Got to go now... And i got school tommorow, too. Its a half day, so ill be back around 1 or 2.)
The ice cream shop has nothing except for a mess and a few mice. And a suspicious looking crate that isn't marked.
The newspaper stand has a cash register. For some reason, it is still intact, and opens to reveal $5.89. There is also a severed hand sitting on the counter, all the fingers chopped off except for the middle one.
How halarious.
|
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 19 Aug 2012 08:14 PM |
| Take the cash, and open the crate. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 06:50 AM |
The crate looked like it would be harder to open, but it isn't. Inside is a single server bag of off-brand Potatoe Chips {A must try!}, One serving, And an empty can of soda.
There is a second thing, much more interesting.
A Bully club, looking like it has never been used (The police things you hit people with, If thats not what they are called tell me.) |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 08:08 AM |
| And then a mountain lion attacks you, severing your left leg. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 09:38 AM |
(It's called a batton I believe.)
Take the potato chips.
(Cut it out gavin. :c) |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
| |
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 02:12 PM |
Okay...
Well...
I'd like to risk checking out the other stand.
(Battons fail horribly, so I'm not taking that. I rather have a broken knife blade then a batton.) |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 02:15 PM |
| A large pay-phone booth is on its side. The wires of the long dead electrical system still protrude from the ground. Each glass window of the telaphone booth is busted, and there are buckshot holes everywhere. A trail of blood and glass leads to a body lying a few yards away. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 02:17 PM |
I cannot get lucky can I?
Follow the road into the city thingy. (Or is it just some random stalls in the country side?) |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 02:23 PM |
Down the road is a broken bridge, large clumps of concrete and rubble littering the road, and a highway at the end of the sidewalk.
(Filter, you are unholy.) |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 03:14 PM |
(What were you trying to say?)
Check out the broken bridge.
(IMA GET MYSELF KILLED IN SOVIET RUSSIA :D) |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 03:16 PM |
4 REMOVE PLZ lane
For some reason, that sets off the filter.
Don't ask why.
Not mutch to see, just a bunch of rubble littering the ground. In the rubble, you notice an iron bar that comes to a fairly-sharp tip. It is a bit heavy. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 03:19 PM |
Forget it. I'd rather travel light, and zombies are normally slow, unless I come across a sprin...
I don't want to think of that possibility.
(I don't mean a L4D sprinter, I mean a zombie which is very fast, normally from a marathon runner.)
Check out the large rubbles of concrete. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 20 Aug 2012 03:21 PM |
(Mark, the zombies in this would probably all be slow, very strong, and killable only by a headshot. However, there could be mentally insane humans...)
You find a dead body. He is clutching something, but its also covered in rubble. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|