Realistic or Modern The Blight

[Archie]

In 2025 AD, Encephalitis Major swept through the world. The disease attacked the frontal lobe, turning its victims into feral creatures, willing to attack and eat even fellow humans. For decades, the world had been taught by zombie movies to think that zombies would be slow, uncoordinated, and unintelligent. Militaries around the world were therefore shocked to find that these creatures travelled in packs, hunted with the cunning of wolves, and were just as fast as any human, but felt none of their pain or fear. Highly contagious, EM spread through saliva or blood contact. Worse, not all zombies were affected the same way by EM. Some retained the ability to reason. These quickly rose to leadership over the others, becoming the "Alphas" of the zombie swarms, and coordinating attacks against humanity like generals planned battles. Our enemy wasn't just numerous, they were intelligent.

Fortunately, zombie movies also got something else wrong - humanity's ability to adapt and unite behind a cause. Throughout the world, humans, realizing that walls were no good (an Alpha could simply order his swarm to pile atop each other), retreated to islands between the rushing waters of rivers or the waves of the oceans. Entire economies were built around these communities, based on fishing, some farming, scavenging parties (sent out by boat to quickly plunder a location next to a river before zombies arrived), and trade. Unfortunately, even these were not impervious. Some alphas had enough intelligence to organize their swarms to build rafts, and landed at night.

Soon, most of humanity realized what we needed to do to survive - collaborate. All across the world, island communities realized that their defenses, their barriers, could only slow the alphas down. They started paying tribute - in food, services, and even live humans (alphas used to be human, and still retained most of their basic drives) - to the alphas who became their new lords.

Some communities did find ways to fight back. In the Western plains, former rancher Cain Sykes figured out that it was easier to live as a nomad than in any one place. Rallying survivors to herd cattle and horses, the Horde, as other survivors came to call it, travelled the plains, evading hordes with the help of aerial drones. In the Northeast, former mercenary Mark Chen managed to wipe out a series of swarms using chemical weapons deployed from crop dusters, and secured huge tracts of land for old-fashioned farming (subsequently using the threat of chemical weapons to subjugate all the island communities around him, forming the Union of "Autonomous" Communities). These communities, however, were the exception and not the rule.

Two other communities were lucky. Those who lived on coastal islands were relatively safe from the zombies, forming an economy based on fishing and trade. After the UAC chemical-bombed the islands of Boston Harbor, they united and formed the Maritime Republics, commandeering a former nuclear missile submarine to deter the UAC form further aggression. Centered around the cities of Atlantic City and Newport News, who survived the outbreak by blowing all the bridges to the mainland, the Maritime Republics preserve some of the old world's capitalism and debauchery. Finally, there's the old government and the remnants of the US military, hiding away in their bunkers, doing who knows what as they watch the world burn.

Our story starts in the unfortunate Delaware River in Pennsylvania, where all the communities are vassals of an Alpha we know only as "Jaws" (for his giant mouth). You are all townspeople of Mashipacong, fishermen, traders, scavengers, and mercenaries... except one. Recently, Heritage, a community that had disobeyed Jaws to the north had just been destroyed. When the sheriff of Mashipacong ordered a search party to scavenge for supplies weeks after, it turned out there was a survivor, and they had bite marks all over. They were immune to Encephalitis Major.

The local sheriff has the survivor under lockdown, and probably intends to give him/her/them over to Jaws to curry favor. Some of you, however, have different ideas. Maybe you're a mercenary who thinks the UAC, the Horde, or one of the oligarchs of the Maritime Republic might pay more. Maybe you're an idealist and think their blood could be used to create a cure. Or maybe you just think that the tradition of sacrificing humans to Jaws has to end.

Once we've freed the cure from the grips of the Sheriff, word will spread of the prize. Jaws will want to track us down and kill us, and the UAC and the remnants of the US government will no doubt want the cure for their own scientific purposes. We'll have to move South down the Delaware River to escape Jaws, but from what we've heard, the South is full of unwanted adventure:

- Two large hubs of trade - Walpack and Pennsbury Manor.
- A cult stretching numerous islands who see Jaws as the biblical demon Asmodeus, and who believe they are the last Christians fighting against the four horsemen of the apocalypse,
- The Canal, a community separated from the banks of the Delaware River with such a sliver of land that Jaws could destroy them at any time - they are Jaws's most loyal collaborators.

- Don't get us started on Philadelphia, where the American remnant dominates the skies with an aircraft carrier in the Naval Yard, a former city councilor claiming to be the "Mayor" rules a large community in the airport (which is fortunately built on an island), oil merchants occupy the old island oil refinery, a group of survivors hold up in the Baseball park and Football stadium, and a warlord has found a way to survive at the tops of the Philadelphia skyline, creating roof gardens and blowing out the staircases to the upper floors, creating rope and wood bridges between the skyscrapers.
- Fleets of houseboats coursing up and down the river, some of them peaceful, others surviving on raids.

Worse, it seems like the entire region is about to be the site of a confrontation between the Horde and the UAC, who are both moving in to subjugate the islands of the Delaware River under them.

Here is a MAP. Note UAC and Maritime Republic zones aren't named because there are so many of them. Every one of these locations that we choose to go to has a story and a moral conflict if we want to help the society get through its problems, though most I'm still fleshing out.

 

[Archie]

The "Mashipacong Jail" was just a basement, dug out of dirt beneath a wooden floor. It wasn't much. One man stood guard in front of Claire, holding an assault rifle. He was young - before the war, he'd still be in school. The red-haired boy stared at Claire attentively, as if he was a soldier in a real army and if he stared hard enough, she wouldn't escape. For the same reason that rain dances always worked eventually, that superstition of his looked like it might work out too. The cure, as soon as the scavenging party from Hermitage Island had handed her over to the Deputy Sheriff, had been chained to a post on the far side of the basement.

It didn't take long for a brown-haired man, thick-bearded to descend down the steps. He wore kevlar and two layers of shirt, the mark of a man who was just copying scavengers and didn't actually go out into the wastes himself - two layers wouldn't do anything about bite marks.

"I'm sorry for what's about to happen to you" the Sheriff announced, facing Claire. He grabbed his guard by the back of the neck and forced him out of his chair so that he could take the seat himself, crossing one leg over the other.

"But it's not like I have a choice. I don't hand you over to Jaws, my community gets eaten. Besides, if you didn't have that freaky cure in your blood, you would have died before we got to you anyway. Think on the bright side" the lawman said, emotionless.

"Any next of kin you want your belongings to go to after I hand you over?"

FireMaiden
---

Henry, dressed in a thick black leather jacket - thick enough to keep out most bites - entered the tavern, smoking a cigarette. What passed as a tavern after the apocalypse was pitiful. Mashipacong Island before the outbreak just had a single patch of farmland surrounded by trees. Now, it and its neighboring small island had been overcrowded. The farm still existed, run by Henry's own family, but around it the trees had fallen and people had built shacks out of wood, straw, and metal. It looked like a scene straight out of a third world slum - and that's because it was. Mashipacong was bigger than most of the islands in the Delaware River, but was still only a few square miles. On this land, there were more than two thousand people, living four to a room, with shacks stacked on top of each other. The tavern just happened to be the biggest of these shacks. It started with a log foundation, but eventually people ran out of logs and finished the rest of the building by draping a huge tent tarp over the roof. It got cold here after August, and it was already October.

Sheriff Horace Greenley, who ran the town since he showed up a month after Henry's family, was an ex-Lieutenant in the Scranton Police, meaning he led a group of other officers. He was an ass, or so Henry thought, but he wasn't stupid - all the run-down shacks of this town were forbidden to have doors facing towards the coast of the island, and could only have windows on the third or fourth floors. There were only two entrances into town - two fence gates enhanced with Constantina wire on either side. It made for terrible views, but a makeshift fortress against a zombie swarm.

The tavern was splat in the middle of town. On the North end, closest to the island of Heritage that Henry and his scavengers had just looted was the Sheriff's office, the nicest building in town - a trailer. On the South end was the farm, which, since the population crossed 1,000, had switched entirely to growing potatoes since they could support everyone for only a little land when supplemented with fishing.

Henry walked into the tavern still seething. He still remembered discovering that woman after the raid - bitten all over, bloodied from her own bites and no doubt the blood of zombies she had killed with her blade. Her name was Claire if he remembered right, or was it Clara? She was the only person he'd ever seen to be bitten by a zombie and not turn within an hour. When he made his way back to town, Deputy Sheriff Watts quickly realized what was going on and sent her to the sheriff's office. Henry knew the Sheriff well enough to know that his next course of action would be to feed the survivor to Jaws. Greenley didn't care about humanity, or even about the chance to sell the cure downriver to make money - as long as he got to play dictator of this small world, he was happy.

He thought of going to the bar, but he couldn't take it anymore. He saw that the tavern was mostly empty this morning, except for a few out of towners. "A round of drinks for everyone" he said to the bartender, putting down as payment an automatic pistol that he had taken off a corpse in Heritage - the only good scavenging spots close to the river now adays were island towns that had just been destroyed. As the barkeep poured drinks and his wife started handing them to the visitors, Henry sat on the only stool in the place that looked stable and faced the room.

"We've all been screwed today" he declared.

"Heritage got attacked by Jaws, but this time someone survived, with bite marks" he claimed.

"Sheriff Greenley just decided to take her to the county jail. To sell her, some of you are thinking" Henry continued, betting that a fair number in this group of outsiders were mercenaries or people who were otherwise used to making ends meet in harsh ways.

"Naw, he's going to hand her over to Jaws"

He paused, at a loss of what to say next, acting on impulse this entire time.

"I don't know any of you" Henry said, taking a sip of the watered down moonshine in his tankard.

"but you do look dangerous. I'm going to get that survivor out of jail. If any of you come with me, we can sell her, as long as it's to someone who wants to make a vaccine" he proposed.

He downed the rest of his tankard, staring at the small group, completely unsure of how they'd respond.

"Y-you can't d-do that" the old barkeep protested.

"Sheriff Greenley, he's got... he's the law. He keeps us all safe!"

Natural Flavour Maddie15 Mianigh Worthlessplebian @Jesusoftheslum

 

[FireMaiden]

Claire Landry
Location: Mashipacong Jail
Interaction: Sheriff Greenly Archie
Mentioned: N/A
Just like how the young man was staring at her, Claire was staring at him. The last thing she remembered was Heritage. The smell of death and copper heavy on the air as the town was turned into nothing but a giant pool of blood and tissues. She fought until she could barely move her arms. Until she had lost count of how many had fallen in front of her. Claire fought until her body gave out and she lost consciousness. When the cajun had awoken, or at least, woken enough to remember something, she was chained to a post in some basement. And that young man was staring at her just like he was now. Claire did not ask his name. She didn't ask who he was or where she was or even what was going to happen to her. She knew. She knew and Claire was not happy about it. The thought of being eaten by the monster they, unfortunately, had to live under...it was just awful. Not how she planned on going out. But she could at least make this kid uneasy as one of her last acts.

Caked in dark dried blood, her hands and face were covered in a way that almost made her look inhuman. Her clothes desperately needed to be washed. But from under the low collar on her shirt, he'd be able to see one of three fresh bite marks. Bruised to high heavy, it was dark purple and black, the flesh looked a bit mangled. None of them felt great, but Claire knew she wouldn't be turning. Hadn't worked the last two times she had been bitten, wouldn't work now.

So her eyes never left the kid, not until he was replaced by the Sheriff. And she knew he was the Sheriff because of how he threw the younger man out of his way. An action that caused her to roll her eyes more than his apology. "No, you ain't. If you were sorry, you'd put a bullet between my eyes. Tell ol' Jaws it was a mistake and I was turning." The woman spat, a low growl in her voice as she now stared him down. Her accent was heavy, that cajun draw making her words seem even more convicted. The Sheriff wouldn't do that though. He either feared Jaws to much, or didn't have the guts. Something told her he wasn't a sheriff before. Though honestly, it didn't matter anymore. Stuff from the old days just...didn't matter anymore. "I don't have no family, so y'all can keep it. Give to someone who needs it, I don't give a shit."

 

[Natural Flavour]

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[div class=mainframe]

[div class=imgspace][div class=pic]

[/div][div class=Ainfo]Age: 16

Height: 5' 4"/162cm

Health: Fine

Mental: Fine

Code by Idea [/div][/div]

Marren Beck

Marren spent a lot of her time in the tavern, since it was the community hotspot. She was often bored, and waited here to hear new scavenger stories, especially the ones told after several drinks. And the fights that broke out were always entertaining.

Marren liked the burn of alcohol in the back of her throat, too, to silence the questions in her mind and take the edge off her boredom. She used to feel guilty but before the war, 16 year olds were allowed to drink in Italy, so she figured it was okay that nobody knew she was actually 16.

The kid had been wanting to go out of town for some time, but she knew she didn't have the body armour required, and she didn't want to die. She was quite fast in her reactions, but you never know when a zombie might sneak up on you.

So Marren was intrigued when Henry proposed getting the cure out of jail. She had already heard the story a few times from various people, but the idea of causing some trouble with the jerk sheriff AND being part of the rescue of a possible cure... She had to join, even if just for her own interest.

Marren walked up to the counter beside Henry and ordered another drink, subtly slipping a napkin with writing on it out of her sleeve and putting it in front of Henry before returning to her seat near the back of the room.

The napkin read,
'I'll join you. Sounds fun. I've got various tools for the job.'

[div class=sideinfo]Location: Tavern

Mentions:

Interacts: Archie [/div]

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[Maddie15]

Her day hadn't been the greatest, but it could've been worse. Her body was dressed in a warm attire, a pair of jeans, a pullover with a t-shirt underneath and a thick jacket, but the coldness could still be felt deep in her bones. She found herself in the tavern after Jonathan said it would be a great idea to lose some time there. She doesn't know why she agreed, but at least it saved her from losing herself in thoughts. Her health didn't worsen, and it starts to get better, but she knew the good wouldn't last much because of the stress. She couldn't help but feel the same pressure as the researchers. They've been losing nights and days to try to find something that would be able to stop the EM, and they aren't sure when they will be the next meal of the Jaws. Even though she said she will stop overthinking, Anasthasia found herself again in that situation.

A drink placed in front of her broke the trail of thoughts and made her refocus on her surrounding. Her puzzled expression was met with a smile from the wife's beekeeper. She saw a young man sitting on the only stool in the place and she realised he was the one that offered the drink. She carefully listened to him and thought about ignoring him until she heard about the cure. Her eyes sparkled at the thought. That could be the moment she was waiting for. If she can make a vaccine with the cure's help, she'll be able to stop this madness.

He wants to get that person out of there. That would be dangerous, but it would be much better than just to die without trying. She was set on the idea and wanted to try and make a difference in this world. She wanted to be able to live normally again. At least, as normal as possible. That would be her family's choice too, she was sure. The old barkeeper protested at the idea, but that was because he didn't understand that it might be the last chance we'll be able to take.

Anasthasia saw a younger girl walking to the counter, writing something on a napkin and then coming back at the tables. She supposed that girl wanted to join. That would only make the mission much easier. The girl seemed young, matured, but for sure younger. Maybe too young to be in such a tavern.

Without hesitation, after taking the cons and pros into consideration, she wet her lips and cleared her throat before speaking up. She shifted in her chair and took a straighter posture.

'Maybe we won't need to sell it. If we manage to take the survivor out...' She took a deep breath and looked around the room sternly ' I might be able to find a solution...to create a vaccine. So if you're doing that to try and save this hellish world, I'm joining the mission.' She looked at the barkeeper. ' Because that may be the only chance we'll get. And the time is ticking.' She finished looking at Jonathan in acknowledging. He will be for sure surprised, but he will for sure understand what she's saying. For Lord's sake, she will find herself a person that would be able to create the vaccine if she didn't manage to. Others may be more helpful than her anyway, but it doesn't mean she wouldn't try. At least this way she can be proud of what her name used to be.

She swept a hand through her dyed her to try and relax. Maybe they would just want money, but money won't do you any good if tomorrow you'll be the next that dies. She could feel a deep silence and the tension from the tavern. She took the risk when she said she may create the vaccine, but she couldn't care less at the moment. She wants to escape this dark hole and find the light again.
Interactions: Archie
mentioning: J JesusOftheSlums

 

[Mianigh]

Hugo held a set of binoculars to his face, scanning the landscape of Marshipicong island from high up in one of the colony's fortresses. He and Kyari had been stationed here lately. This time they were contracted to act as bodyguards for the local colony and Sheriff's people, a job which he didn't relish to a great degree. From his own personal experience with faction leaders, he didn't like them very much. He'd seen that in a world like this one, people like the Sheriff, Jaws, and the many other gang leaders took way too much pleasure in throwing their weight around, trampling on and stealing from those they viewed as lesser than themselves. In a normal world, no community of right minded people would ever stand to be near controlling sociopaths like them. However, after the apocalypse that sort of callousness seemed to attract people somehow. Maybe it was the self-assurance and lack of fear they had that helped them stay in power and gain notoriety. Either way, from one insane person to another, it was a terribly annoying habit.

Hugo's trusted zombie-slaying chainsaw was sitting next to him, leaning against the poorly designed wooden guardrail that stood between him and a 30 meter drop. Even though there was no immediate danger on the horizon and the only undead he could see were on the other side of the water, he kept glancing back at it every now and again just to reassure himself that it was there. The trauma of coming into this post-apocalyptic world unarmed and trying to survive while people died all around him had never really gone away, not since the first day. In the middle of the night he thrashed with the memories that would wake him and make him reach for something, anything to protect himself. At this point, his old electric safety blanket seemed to be the only thing keeping him sane.

"Reminiscing?" an American accented voice asked from behind him.

"Just imagining my next kill," he grunted as Kyari came to stand beside him and gaze out at the waters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyari was used to the life of a bodyguard. She had trained all her life for exactly this sort of work. When this opportunity had come along to settle down for a short while and just live behind the safety of walls, it had seemed a welcome blessing to her. She quickly realized that staying in one place would be hard for her, though. Her mind just wasn't used to the stability. Though she struggled to feel comfortable and just accept what she had thought she'd wanted all her life, the thought of living the rest of it not killing another zombie or venturing into territories unknown somehow irked her. It made absolutely no sense, yet she couldn't help but feel that way.

"Did you see the woman they captured earlier today," Kyari asked, staring out at the water.

"Easily enough, not hard to spot when you're keeping an eye out for it," Hugo said.

"I wonder what they're doing with her now, not that it matters for us?"

"It doesn't."

Kyari glanced up at Hugo, but he wasn't paying any attention to her now. She had grown used to this attitude of his. Despite the bluntness of his words, the strength in them put her mind at ease. She was Yukuza born and the disregard for human life was nothing new to her. Still, she had never seen the Sheriff take a living prisoner before. This was new and a little terrifying to see. Times were desperate and everyday another survivor died no matter how much time passed. The worst part was that the zombies weren't always the ones doing the killing anymore. It had been about a month since she and Hugo had taken on this job, and her legs were itching to hit the road. Maybe it was about time they flew the coop and started looking for a new employer.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Anthony Moore​

The past few days for Anthony were hazy, unclear. He could not, for the life of him, recall how he had gotten to this little town, Mashipacong if he isn't mistaken. No matter, he thought. He survived for five years since he was fifteen, this would be just another pit stop in his nomadic life. This was a quaint little tavern he had found himself in even though it looks straight outta one of those apocalypse stories he had read during his stay at the library. He wasn't native to this little strip of civilization but he did inquire some of the townsfolk about the local area. He quickly learned of the alpha, Jaws, that ruled over this patch of land with an iron jaw. Anthony has heard of these alpha zombies before, intelligent and with that intelligence they command the other zombies, utilizing cunning tactics. Anthony admittedly was curious about these pesky threats but his cautiousness told him not to pursue a potentially life-ending risk on the basis of curiosity.

In the tavern, he sat on one of the empty tables. His suppressed AR with 18 rounds in the mag, sat on the table in such a way where it was easy for him to reach, draw and fire should anyone or anything entered the tavern with an intent to harm. This rifle has been with Anthony for 3 years, every time it has been a life saver, not just for him but for the other people that he occasionally ran with although while he had grown fond of the rifle if he had to leave it behind, he would in a heart beat. Backpack placed against the table's legs. Anthony had his hood and mask up, eyes glancing over the other occupants. The first that caught his attention was a man with gas-mask, the gas-mask was attached to a container with a flexible hose. What is with those backpacks though? The thought occurred to Anthony. The next was a lass with turquoise colored hair, judging by her facial appearance she couldn't have been no more than 2, perhaps 3, years older than him. After her was a 5'3 or 5'5 tall girl, he wasn't quite sure on her age but he'll have to wait to see how she'll act. There was also a giant of a man present, Anthony made a mental note to avoid direct confrontation with him, as good as Anthony was, the physical difference between the two would make the fight lopsided. There was a peculiar girl near him, around 5 or 6 next to him, his daughter or perhaps not, wouldn't be the first time someone adopted a little kid.

While Anthony would've liked to continue his observation, a man that could rival the aforementioned giant, entered the tavern. He bought drinks for the rest of them. Well, he can't drink with his mask on so he pulled down his mask and hood when the wife of the barkeep handed everyone their drinks. Anthony's gloved hand traveled up to his chin, feeling the growing beard. Gotta find a razor, another mental note for later. He drank from the cup, alcohol, wasn't his first time nor would it be the last but this taste was revolting, cat piss would probably taste better than this dung.

Out of disappointment, Anthony had pulled up his hood and mask again. The man who had treated them to drinks then began speaking. At first, Anthony assumed that this would be another rallying speech, he'd heard a dozen times but he still listened intently. When the man spoke about an immune woman that was the first time in long while that Anthony had been surprised. Could there be someone that was immune? The certainty in man's voice indicates he's telling the truth. 5'3 girl with black hair walked up to the man and gave him a napkin, that timid nature was particularly weird in Anthony's eyes. After which the turquoise one decided to talk about how she or someone else could make a vaccine, that was a funny thought to entertain.

Anthony leaned forward and placed his hands on the table, next to the rifle. He looked the man straight into his eyes and gave a nod to signal that he accepted the man's invitation to save the woman.

Location: Tavern.
Interactions: Henry Archie
Mentions: Marren & Sasha Natural Flavour , Anasthasia Maddie15 , Jack FireMaiden , Jonathan J JesusOftheSlums

 

[FireMaiden]

Jack Landry
Location: Mashipacong Tavern
Interaction: Archie (Henry)
Mentioned: Natural Flavour (Sasha)
It had been a long day already. Three broken blades, a requirement for six others and a mountain of fishing hooks to repair. His fingers were coated in what looked like soot, dirt-stained the underside of his nails. His shoulders slumped a little, though it did nothing to mask his height as he downed another glass of whiskey. A small break before he got back to work in his little corner of town. His workshop was primitive, but he could easily watch that side of the fence. And everyone knew if there was a problem, just go get Jack. With a sign, he raised the empty glass up do the barkeeper's wife could see he needed a refill, a small smile being sent towards Sasha. He had sat out a few pieces of broken crayon and an old coloring book for her, give the little one something to do while he took his break.

The rumor mill had been going wild today after Henry's group came back. A woman was found in what used to be heritage, still alive despite the bites. Jack would always admit to some curiosity and figured his reputation would get him in to meet her. Of course, though, Sheriff Greenly had reacted like it was the wildest thing Jack had ever asked for and booted him the moment he could. A weasel Is that that man was. No respect for the uniform he wore. The people around here knew Jack used to be a State Trooper. Maybe not for this state, but the authority was the same. Speaking of which, Jack had found himself thinking back to the good old days. Back with him and Claire, that little house they had 10 minutes away from her parents. It was a life he missed, but not nearly as much as he missed her.

His glass was refilled the same moment Henry started talking. Jack hadn't been paying much attention to the other patrons until then, his eyes moving from the amber liquid to the younger man. He was talking about selling the survivor, an idea that made Jack scoff. Selling another human being was still such a monstrous idea, no matter how much the world had changed. But...rescuing them would be better than letting humanities only hope get eaten or worse. Slowly, he drained his glass again, the whiskey burning just a bit in the back of his throat. Turning the glass upside down and setting it back on the table Jack stood. He towered over a majority of the people in here, apparently tall people we're easy meals. Most of them anyway.

"I'm in." His voice rumbled, the cajun accent thick but not nearly as thick as it was when he first showed up in town. "Sheriff Greenly won't be waiting too long before handing her over to Jaws. I'm assuming you have a plan?"

 

[Natural Flavour]

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[div class=mainframe]

[div class=imgspace][div class=pic]

[/div][div class=Ainfo]Age: 6

Height: 3' 9"

Physical health: Normal

Mental health/Mood: Worried

Code by Idea [/div][/div]

Sasha hadn't been paying attention to the talk happening in the tavern as she coloured, lost in her own little world of adventure and heroism. The colouring book was old and had been well-loved by another child at some point in time. The inside front cover suggested that the previous child's name was Janet. Most of the pictures were already coloured on, and it was Sasha's job as heroine to colour over the finished pictures (often in darker colours) so no one could tell that anyone had coloured them before. Then she would have defeated Janet, the Villain of the World.

Sasha was within the boundless vastness of this world when Jack stood up and stated that he was in. In? In what?

'Sheriff Greenly won't be waiting too long before handing her over to Jaws.' Jack said.

Sasha's eyes widened. Who's 'her'? Sasha reflected briefly on her own identity as a 'her' and a small knot of worry rose in her chest. She tugged on Jack's sleeve, looking at him in concern. She'd ask, but Sasha didn't use words unless absolutely necessary. So she just looked at him instead, a question in her eyes.

Sasha

[div class=sideinfo]Location: Tavern

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Interacts: FireMaiden [/div]

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[JesusOftheSlums]

Jonathan Dereth

Jonathan,my name is....Jonathan,not that hard to remember,right ?" he liked to remind himself of all the small details that composed his broken mind,he was healing but another small mistake could lead into another breakdown,and the nurse would be disappointed to hear that
The tavern wasn't his favorite,but it was his only escape from the bulls*it that was surrounding him,that and his "gas mask".People used to ask him why he wears it,and he always gave another response,until people started figuring out his little game,so the questions ended once and for all.He used to wear the mask even when he went to bed...but today,he left the mask of,sitting on the dirty and sticky table,revealing his unkempt beard.A little piece of broken glass that he picked up on the road revealed just how tired he really looked...not that it was surprising,but he forgot even how he looked.The nurse said it was a part of his therapy,that he needs to embrace his former self now,so he was pleasing her.

In front of him,a young woman,and he had a slight interest in her,but because her words were big,and her big words didn't tire him or led him into falling asleep.She was speaking of a vaccine and another girl who was kept prisoner...maybe if he came with her he could finally do something interesting.He always promised himself that he will one day leave the world and find an unknown corner where he could love his future wife,but the sheer desire he was feeling at the moment for a final quest got the best of him

He looked around,and noticed some other fellows looking back at him and Anasthasia,something that made him a tad bit uncomfortable.

"What is it with you people ? Do I got something on my face ?"

Anasthasia and the rest,whoever they were could get in trouble,but a risk is just that,something that could potentially lead to greatness,or burn and go down in flames...It's like a gamble,and everything in life has that effect.A thousand thoughts invaded his mind,that of him dying,or losing the fight or even worse,losing his nurse to another man,but,if he succeeded,his peaceful life would finally be realized.

He took an old rusty coin from his deep pockets that his trench coat had on the front,and said to Anasthasia
"Look,if the coin lands on heads,i am coming with you,if it lands on tails,i'll stay,is that clear ?"

Finally,this one coin flip,this one moment that the hand of destiny could interfere,if it was meant to be or not.Time stopped on it's head,freezing like coldest desert on the entire earth.But before he could understand,the coin was snatched mid-air by a beggar,who ran away with it."Bloody rat ! Destiny is making fun of me,fine,if the coin got stolen,I don't know,maybe its destiny's way of telling me to get it back,and the only way to get it back is to leave,soooo...You have my back on this insane mission of yours.

He grabbed his gigantic bag from behind the seat,threw the gas mask back on his face and started chasing the beggar,leaving the other people in the bar with a puzzled expression.


Location: Tavern
Interactions : Maddie15

 

[HighSanguinaryPriest]

Alistar Steele

It had been about a week since the lone ASDF Trooper had raided the remains of the national guard base at Fort Indiantown Gap, restocking on much needed supplies. With those supplies, the Northerner found maps of the area, both topographical and road maps, giving him much needed info on the area and possible military checkpoints now long abandoned. One of the spots on the map that interested him was a small island settlement that he observed from a distance. At first he thought it was just another human, but after days of observation, he saw a group leave, only to return with another human in chains. She looked to be battered and bloody, and the way she was forced into the structure rubbed the soldier the wrong way.

As night fell upon the town, Steele crept in from the shadows, his movements slow and deliberate. Each step calculated and measured to move as silently as humanly possible. Making his way towards the outskirts of the settlement, Alistar waited in the shadows for one of the settlers tasked with securing the town to come into sight. It took a couple of hours, but by 2 am, Lady Luck seemed to have smiled upon him. A man left his patrol route to relieve himself. Drawing the tempered blade of his bayonet and struck. In a burst of speed, Alistar quickly subdued the man, pressing the cold pattern welded steel to the guards throat.
"Make a sound, or even a slight twitch, and i'll cut your fucking head off... Nod Slowly if you understand..." Steele hissed in the man's ear.
The guard, having to be no older than 23 slowly nodded, clearly aware of the large and sharp blade pressed against the soft meat of his throat. Before the guard could speak, Alistar quickly removed the edge from the man's throat only to quickly hammer the pommel of the bayonet right above the man's jaw. The guard collapsed like a sack of potatoes, and would have struck the ground had it not been for Alistar holding up the limp form. Throwing him over his shoulders and drawing his 10mm as he stalked back to his camp.

Hours pass, and as the sun is just starting to rise above the poor guard was awaken rudely by the ASDF trooper, in the form of a steel toed boot the the man's ass. The captured guard awoke with a pained start, only to find himself tied up. Panic was quickly overtaking the young man as the armoured figure of Steele crouched before him, a modest sized bayonet in his hand. "You're gonna answer some questions... Do so satisfactory, and you'll see the next sunrise whole..."


Location: Bush camp 7 miles outside of Mashipacong

 

[Mianigh]

Footsteps echoed on the industrial metal stairs of the guard tower. Hugo and Kyari turned in tandem as a lonesome soldier pushed open the door to the roof and stared them down, a loaded rifle resting slack in his hand.

"Boss wants you to guard something new," the guard barked, his lip curling. To most survivors, and especially to those in Sheriff's command, mercenaries like Hugo and Kyari were considered lesser beings, the scum of post-apocalyptic humanity. After all, trust was everything in this world and for those who so openly sold their skills to the highest bidder no matter the allegiance they represented, there was no more despicable form of living. The guard leaned heavily against the roof door, kevlar vest grinding against the metal. Kyari glanced at Hugo and nodded her head. The two went to follow him down into the compound.

It wasn't odd for someone like Sheriff to throw his weight around by redirecting the mercenaries in his command from time to time, just to keep things interesting and in constant motion. He never wanted his base of operations to be too predictable, and even more importantly, he never wanted his mercenaries to ever get too comfortable in their positions. What was odd, however, was that instead of sticking near the perimeter of the outpost where those further from Sheriff's inner circle were preferred to be allowed to take point, they were now making their way towards Sheriff's shack and. more specifically. to the basement door therein. There was a large jail door scavenged from an inland prison, tinkered to fit the wide factory style steps leading down into the militia's basement. It was rather apropos that this was where the colony's leadership liked to keep his political prisoners chained up. Kyari had never stepped foot in this place before. She'd never been allowed to and neither had Hugo. To be coming here now, obviously something was up.

"Hey, goon, where are we going? Did Sheriff really want us coming down here?" asked Kyari. "This isn't just some trick to get us in trouble with your boss."

"Of course not," the guard shot back. "If it were up to me, I'd stick you outside with the rest of the dogs to keep guard in the freezing cold, but Sheriff thought this up all on his own. Ain't nobody go against him." A weird shiver passed over his body as he seemed to reminisce on a moment when someone had gone against Sheriff. "Ain't nobody want that."

Soft light filtered from small windows in the wooden walls, windows sealed by candle wax so only the toughest hands could break it open and get in. The guard simply pointed at a spot for Hugo and Kyari to stand then ruffly turned on his heel and left through the cabin door. "I guess this is it?" proffered Hugo. Kyari scanned the rather common looking living space, her eyes catching on the dining table that stood center stage. Despite good ventilation, the odors from the basement still wafted up the stairs through the barred door smelling like old blood and rotten corpses. "Probably..." she sighed, already feeling uneasy.

*Edited to fit more

 

[Archie]

FireMaiden Mianigh

The Sheriff grinned at the woman's response, turning to the prison guard.

"Cam, looks like it's your lucky day. You get everything she owned. All of nothing" he said, joking. The teenage "soldier" forced a smile, pretending to laugh along with a boss who clearly ruled by intimidation. Greenley grabbed the chains around the wooden post, disconnecting and reconnecting their main lock so that he could detach Claire from the post.

"You be good now" he said, handing the prisoner's chains over to his guard and drawing a six shot revolver. The two of them headed upstairs, into a log cabin attached to trailer whose back side had been carved out. The toilet inside that trailer was the only flush toilet in the entire settlement - a luxury that only the Sheriff, otherwise living in his luxurious log cabin, could afford. The cabin was complete with glass windows, paintings on the walls, and rugs on the floor, as well as a whole chicken that was sitting warm on the table. Chicken was a delicacy at a time when most of the Delaware River's people ate fish. On the way out the door, Greenley was joined by a tall black man wearing the same uniform - that was Deputy Watts, who had taken Claire into custody to begin with.

"If it's not clear, sweetheart, I'm not wasting any time handing you over" the Sheriff said, parading the captive through the open expanse of the main square in town. As he walked, he was joined by an ever-increasing posse of militiamen, who surrounded him as if they were expecting a riot. Most people just looked on, however, with complete and total apathy.

"Mercenaries, on us" said Deputy Watts to Hugo and Kyari who were waiting outside the door.

"We're making a special delivery"

FireMaiden Mianigh

----

Henry was surprised but encouraged by the amount of support he was getting. First, a young-looking girl slipped him a napkin that said she was in. Henry smiled, knowing that at least there was one person willing to stand up against what was about to happen. Next, a tough mercenary had also taken up the cause. A man with a big gun and a cajun accent also said that he was in, and Henry nodded to each of them. Finally, a man wearing thick clothing - no doubt as protection against bites - said he was in on the luck of a coin toss gone wrong. That made Henry smile. Even a small child was asking for details on the mission, apparently seeking it from the big cajun.

Jack, who had arrived in town a while ago, asked if Henry had a plan. He rubbed the back of his head.

"No, not really..." Henry admitted.

"The Sheriff's got dozens of men in this community. I'm thankful that all of you are willing to stand up to him, but we can't take them all at once. They'll be handing the survivor over to a zombie pack as soon as they're on the banks of the river. But that might take a while..." Henry mused, trying to come up with a way that half a dozen people could beat tens of militiamen, preferably with only a few deaths on either side.

"Henry! Henry!" shouted a young man with golden hair who was wearing four layers - the mark of a scavenger - as he arrived and collapsed on the floor.

"You gotta come, Greenley's already headed to the Eastern gate"

"Sh-" Henry started, about to swear but remembering that he was in the presence of a kid. "Snap" he corrected himself.

"We gotta head over"

As Henry exited the tavern, he beelined to the Eastern gate, where he could see that the Sheriff and his men were already guarding the gate, the prisoner likely confined in a small shack that constituted the gatehouse. The gate itself was a former fence gate, lined with barbed wire just in case any zombies managed to cross the river. Because of this, it was see-through. And, seeing through, Henry sighed something that made him frown. On the other side of the island, rows of naked creatures with sunburnt flesh lined up. Suddenly, they let out a loud roar in unison, so powerful it made the shanty shacks shake to their core.

At the center of the row of zombies, visible on the other side of the river through the gate, was one large zombie, fully clad in a trenchcoat wearing surgical gloves, standing next to a group of young humans in chains - male and female.

"Doc" Henry muttered with contempt, so-named because he wore surgical gloves so that he wouldn't contaminate his "slaves" when he pleasured himself with them.

"He's one of Jaws's betas" Henry stated. In any group of a hundred or so infected, there were a few that retained some kind of cognitive capability. As groups got bigger, this number grew. In any large swarm, there were multiple zombies capable of reasoning and who were physically large and imposing enough to defeat their weaker rivals. Jaws, for his part, had over a dozen "deputies" that ran local swarms in his name.

"And you don't want to know how he got his name" Henry remarked, knowing that some in the group had likely already heard of this Beta. He looked back at the group.

"We can either go in guns blazing, or try to start a fight between the horde and the town. Unless anyone else has other ideas."

Natural Flavour Maddie15 Mianigh Worthlessplebian J JesusOftheSlums

----

The night before

"Fine, fine, what do you want to know!?" the guard hissed, remembering to keep his voice down. There were almost no settlements of any sort that weren't outside the river, or surrounded by some kind of fortification that was build into the facility before the outbreak. This camp would likely have been torn down in the next day or two depending on what mission these men were on. In the distance, Alistar could see pillars of smoke rising - a sign that a zombie horde was on the move.

HighSanguinaryPriest

 

[Grognard]

interested