[Telltale] The Walking Dead [Inactive]

(I'm gonna make my post now for sake of time)


"Pleased to meet you Mr. Crawford," Jon said simply, extending his hand.


The man took it, "Oberson, please call me Oberson Crawford."


"Of course," he dropped his head in a half-bow, before dropping Crawford's hand.


Oberson looked away, standing up before strolling across the room. "It's no secret that this meeting is nothing but procedure, see if your capable of helping our little community here in Savannah." The old man picked up a pamphlet, spreading it on the desk. "Ever been to Savannah?"


"No sir," Jon replied, "born in Macon, went to the University." He looks to the side, memories being pushed back.


"Good man," he traced his hands across the creased paper. "Savannah used to be the hub of Georgia, second to Atlanta." Oberson chuckles a bit, "Maybe one day it'll be number one," his smile faded quickly, "those days are long behind us."


He continued, aiming his gaze solely at Jon. "I've heard your name is Jon, but what can you offer us?"


Jonathan blew out a breath, thinking for a moment, "I'm smart and know a hell of a lot about how to deal with zombies, and people."


Oberson smiled, an idea obviously forming. "Equally an ace of clubs and an ace of diamonds."


"I think I have a position for you."


Jon raised an eyebrow uncomfortably, "What would that be, Oberson Sir?"


"How would you feel about watching over our people, and our defenses?"


The student's eyes light up as he cracks a smile. "I'd love to!"


Oberson smiled as well, sitting back down to lean in his chair. "Send the next one in, would you?"


Jonathan turned heel and practically broke the door down, "Next one's up!"
 
"Vlad the Impaler, huh? Reminds me more of those shitty slasher films. It is a bit more creepy in real life though." A zombie still run through, looked at Matthew and reached out for him, almost as if it needed help. It made that horrible groaning noise, waking up it's friends. "Especially when the ones stuck through are still kicking."
 
Jeff was idly leaning his back against the wall outside the building where his group was. He wasn't in a rush to meet the one behind all of this. He saw Matt and Harry go out and seemingly didn't notice him. He just went with it. He wanted everyone to be done with it so he could go last. Suddenly...


"Webb? Holy shit! Jeffrey Webb?!"


Jeff slowly turned to where the loud, rough voice came from. It was a delightful surprise. "Fletcher!" he was delightfully surprised to see another familiar face. "H-How'd you get here?"


"I could ask the same thing, man." the black man motioned to hug him. Jeff obliged. "You're looking good, bro. Well, better than when we got separated at Atlanta." he said. He was wearing a beanie and a leather jacket. He was wearing the same kind of pants as Jeff and on close inspection, the same shirt underneath that jacket.


Jeffrey remembered his time in Atlanta. How he survived the initial wave of undead. He was with two of his friends and squad mates, Fletcher and Riley. They made their way to their HQ but no one was there anymore. They made their way to an old school to rescue Riley's kids. They met with a couple of survivors along the way. After saving Riley's kids, they escaped using a school bus. They were ambushed by a large herd of walkers just outside of Atlanta after the bus broke down and were separated afterwards.


Jeff was finished recollecting. "Yeah... Atlanta." Jeff said in a depressed tone. "Did anyone else make it?" he asked.


Fletcher shook his head in a similarly depressed manner. "Naw, I was with that mechanic, Raul. Son of a bitch stole my gun and ditched me. Found the fucker dead not too far along the way. Serves the bastard right if you ask me. I dont know what happened to Riley though." he told Jeff.


"Riley died at the bus. I... saw him..." Jeff was then quiet for a moment. "Not sure about his kids." he added.


"Damn. T-that's a shame. It's good you're alive though. But if Atlanta couldn't kill you, I guess nothing could. Now that you mention it, I think I saw that high-school kid we found along the way get out of that hairy situation." Fletcher stated.


"You mean Ryker? Do you think he's still alive?" Jeff replied and asked.


"Yeah, most likely." Fletcher said. "the kid is so damn resourceful. Remember the restaurant incident? I thought we were goners for sure. I wouldn't be surprised if he found his way here."


Jeff and Fletcher's conversation would continue.


(OOC: The post also serves as a backstory of sort of how Ryker and Jeff knew each other. :) )
 
Aylaela was at a loss for what to do after she finished in the small office with Oberson Crawford. Since she had gotten to the haven, she had been avoiding the eventually meeting with the man and took in little of the town's landscape. Now she decided to take advantage of her time and get her bearings around the town of Crawford.


Soon she came across a few of the men from the newly arrived group and began to turn for a new direction before stopping. She needed allies when this place fell apart, for no place was safe now, and why not these people? Straightening her back she walked towards the men, composing herself for the immediate socialization.


Before she could begin to speak a guttural moan came from in front of the small group, and looking beyond Aylaela could see a pile of zombies and a few stuck to poles squirming about. Her last meal rolled, almost making a reappearance at the sight. Taking a breath to calm her squeamish stomach she winced as she cleared her throat.


"Hello, Welcome to Crawford," she tentatively says, eyeing the gruff men for their reactions.
 
Jon's eyes drop to the floor in an awkward stare. He takes a step forward, separating himself from the door and the ears of Crawford.


The awkwardness of the situation was the obvious elephant in the room, the couple that seemed to follow each other everywhere and were completely dependent of each other. After bringing his head back up, Jon raises a finger, before curling it back into his palm. He starts rather nervously, "Do you two need... us to go...?" Jon was obviously referring to both himself and Logan, the last people left in the room beside them. His eyes dart back and forth between Logan and the couple.
 
Matthew was suddenly alerted to the sound of someone voice behind him. He turned around and met the girl who was talking. "Yeah, thanks. I'm Matthew, who is apparently the new Crawford prefect. Or cop, if you prefer. That's Harry, one of my group who just moved in. Nice to meet you." Matthew did a couple glances at the zombie pile, but looked back, thinking that it was better not to stare.
 
Aylaela couldn't help but have her own gaze flicker to the heap nervously while attempting to meet the man's eyes.


"The pleasure is mine. I'm Aylaela, just arrived a few days before your group got here. And I have to say, it's nice having other 'outsiders'," she says with finger quotations. "Coming into such a tightly knit community." The girl offers a small smile to Matthew's companion Harry in greeting.
 
Ryker had watched the others leave and had become a bit uncomfortable just standing there. Guess I'll show myself around he thought to himself. He walked outside and turned the corner ears pricking at the faint moans of the dead. Somthings not right here, if there was a build up it should have been taken care of quickly. Ryker ran at a light jog hugging the corners and as a result almost plowed into a girl. She hadn't seemed to notice and he took a second to compose himself. He was about to introduce himself when he saw the pile, no fence of bodies. A few live ones struggled though they were impaled on stakes and not going anywhere. A thousand comments came to mind though all Ryker could manage was a lame rhetorical question in a weak voice. "So you guys run out of chain link or somthing?
 
Noticing quite a disturbance in air behind her, Aylaela whipped around, slightly skiddish already due to the casual conversation in the proximity of dead bodies. Finding a boy nearly her age, she stepped back to give him some room as he voiced his comment on Crawford's unsightly methods.


Not quite knowing how to respond, the girl offers a shrug, "I'm new here." She mumbles halfheartedly in answer, eyes flickering between the men and zombies offering the conversational thoughts through their loud groans.
 
Ryker noted how quickly the girl had reacted to him without even looking. Probably survived on her own for awhile he thought to himself. "Names Ryker" he offered though his voice sounded funny. He wasn't bothered by the close proximity of the dead but rather the manner in which they had been treated. These things werent people anymore but to treat them like this...Burying the dead was an idea from a diffrent lifetime but not ending it then burning them. Ashes to ashes ,dust to dust. Only if we're lucky he thought bitterly to himself.
 
Pursing her lips, she nodded, "Aylaela. Are you with Matthew and..." she pauses, searching for the other man's name. "Harry?" The girl asks, gesturing to the other men present, which lead her to look at the dead again. Shifting, she looks back to Ryker pointedly, as to distract her gaze from the dismal sight.
 
"No I got here about an hour ago". Clearly Ayleala was bothered by the make shift wall as well. "It's brilliant unfortunately" as he said it he felt bile riseing in his throat. "The dead don't bother the dead. So what's the deal with the nice front and then the wall of death?" The question wasn't directed at anyone in specific.
 
When the boy had made the comment on its brilliance, Aylaela couldn't help but agree to a degree. It may work but it was vile and brutish, achieving what thick high walls could just as well.


"Some people lean heavily on first appearances I suppose," the girl offers quietly. "Though if they have such horrible means of defense here, I don't see why not all around," Aylaela comments, not remembering having seen the zombie pikes when she first came to Crawford.
 
"I couldn't tell you as to its morality it's sick and sadisic." Ryker watched as an impaled zombie squirmed on a pike. He wanted nothing more to put an arrow in its head. Grimacing he looked away. He might not agree but there was no sense in going against the people harboring him. "I'm going check out the rest of Crawford". With that he turned and walked away slowly trying to ignore the moans of the dead.
 
"I can agree it's effective. But sometimes I wonder if there's still a person inside those monsters, unable to control itself, bit able to see everything it does. I know it sounds stupid. I can think about the cheesiest things sometimes." Matthew watched as Ryker walked away, gone as soon as he had come. Matthew simply shuffled around and looked back to Harry, then to Aylaela, then to the pile of the dead. What a horrible thing. Matthew's eyed widened suddenly to a voice coming from what sounded to be a megaphone.


"Attention all new Crawford Citizens. Please report to the main hall. I repeat. Please report to the main hall. After you visit our seminar, you will be lead to your new room and given a schedule."


Matthew flinched a couple times, then looked at the two with him. "We should probably head down there. I saw the Main Hall earlier, it isn't too far away. Right by the school." He began walking slowly toward the main hall.
 
With a parting glance at the dead, Aylaela follows Matthew's lead to this Hall. The way they got information out was effective, but she couldn't help wondering if it would be dangerous, seeing as the zombies seemed to respond to sound like anything else.


The girl couldn't help but think of Matthew's words, something she herself had believed for a long time but had no one to say it to. Grimacing, she looks toward where she supposed the Main Hall would be, wondering how many more newly arrived survivors would be joining them.
 
Ryker heard the announcement and winced. Using speakers was a mistake seeing as it would only draw the dead. Ryker let the ringing n his ears subside before following some survivors who were presumably going to the main hall. He'd be glad after this orientation was finished and he could get back to the two things he was good at. Surving and killing the dead.
 
As the couple seemingly ignores him, Jon, eyes rolling, turns to Logan. "Let's get moving, wouldn't want Oberson to yell at us." With that, he exits, giving Lia a glare before finding the rest of his group. Jon figured they were going to this 'main hall', as everyone was being called to it.


He really hoped someone was watching the perimeter.


Worming his way into the centre of the group, he introduces himself. "I'm Jon, don't think I got any of your names."
 
Aylaela pauses mid-stride before continuing her gait, having been caught off guard by the new person in such proximity. Though seeing as she hadn't been around people for a good month, or was it two?, it justified her uneasy attitude.


Throwing a glance over her shoulder at the edge of Crawford, she absentmindedly wondered who would be left to guard the town while everyone was meeting. Clearing her throat the girl speaks softly, "Aylaela."


Sticking with single worded answers was what she was best at, so she fell silent until another offered to take the figurative conversational torch.
 
Sam eyed the wall carefully. The place seemed deserted, yet he knew better. Many incidents in the city taught him that a seemingly empty convenience store was an ambush from a group of hostile bandits. Sam barely escaped that one. A wind came kicked a strand of hair from his dark brown eyes. His hair was getting long. Sam didn't notice it until now. He waited for another 2 minutes before advancing. Sam took a deep breath and stood up from his position behind a hill. His eyes darted left and right, hoping to catch movement.. a bandit.. an animal.. anything. He saw... nothing.


A little more relaxed, Sam descended down the incline and made his way to the gate. It took him 10 minutes of hiding behind cars and bushes before finally, the cold steel of the metal bars met with his fingertips. He didn't see anybody. Sam pressed onto the door, expecting the sharp stop of locked doors but to his surprise, it swung open and creaked softly.


Carefully, Sam spoke into the stillness, "Hello?" ...No response. Sam thought I should be good. Sam entered and saw a sign with its post, planted into the ground. It was crooked. The sign said 'Welcome to Crawford'. A wind chime sung in the distance, startling Sam. After a moment, he relaxed. It was only the friendly wind.


He walked down the street with one hand on the handle of his father's knife, cautious and curious. Suddenly, he heard it. The quick scuffle of feet, the hushed whispers, the scrape of clothing against brick walls. It was coming from the north. Sam crawled around the corners of streets before he saw it, the glimpse of another person disappearing into a building. It was of a woman and she didn't seem like she was up to no good. She strolled into the entrance where it shut loudly.


Sam waited 15 minutes before sneaking past pillars and hiding behind trashcans before he came to the door. A gold-plated tab in the center said, 'Crawford Hall'. Sam inched the door open and slipped inside.
 
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