THEWALKINGDEAD
The world has ended. The military is gone. The dead own the streets. One could go days without seeing another
living person, but hardly hours without running into the dead. Those that survive hide, scavenge, and fight every
day. Survivors have formed groups and travel constantly, in search of safety that never seems to come. Cities are
death traps, towns are overrun, it seems no one has escaped the plague. Danger is a constant reality, but
increasingly this is not only from the dead but from other groups as well. As time passes it is growing
quite obvious that those who have survived are losing their humanity. You are one of the last
remaining people on Earth, what are you willing to do to survive?
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The gentle sky peppered with large white clouds glowed with a brilliant canvas of orange and fading purple, indicating that morning was just around the corner. A soft breeze blew across the on-going lands, and swept into the silent camp, cooling down the humid temperature that thickened the air. Rhys sat on a nearby hill which faced the rising sun, brightening everything around him but the silhouette of his thin frame. In his hand rested a book, open in the center with a dainty bookmark resting between it's worn pages. "Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising.." his mouth moved calmly with each word spoken, raising his chin to speak to, what it seemed, the sun in front of him. "Haply I think on thee, and then my state.." he continued on, obvious accent bouncing off his smooth lips. The man did not stop until the sonnet was finished before slamming the book closed and tossing it aside in the thick grass beneath him. "I've read that blasted book far too many times." he groaned, knitting his brows together and leaning forward. His forehead pressed against the palms of his hands while he listened in on the chirping of birds flourishing the air, greeting him with wonderful sing-songs of a good morning. "The infection should have killed off you bloody birds as well." Rhys shouted, standing up onto his two feet and turning away. He shoved his hand into his back pocket and pulled out a cigarette, swiftly placing it to his lips and lighting it with speed. Oh how it tasted as he dragged it harshly, filling his lungs with toxic chemicals before exhaling long and slow. "Need to take a run in town today," he rubbed his head, fluffing up his raggedy hair. "Have a feeling I'm going to be doing it myself."
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"Come on.. come on." A pair of lush lips hissed, vivid ocean blue eyes set intently in the scope on her rifle. Natascha, holding that rifle dear to her, sat on a thin branch high in a tree, staring down a deer which grazed on the thick grass not too far away. The woman shook, moving her body to the right slightly before returning her slender finger to the trigger. "You better not run away, you piece of shit." she gritted her teeth, watching as the creature lifted it's head up in concern, ears twitching and paused it's rapid movements of chewing. Natascha breathed in sharply and pulled the trigger, filling the air with a loud BANG as the bullet sailed and missed, making the deer dart away in fright "Damn it!" she shouted, throwing her rifle off the branch in front of her and slamming a fist down on the thick bark beside her. "So close, so damn close!" she gritted her teeth, hopping out of the tree and landing safely to the ground. "I suppose those worthless people at camp aren't eating much tonight.." she whispered, shrugging and ambling towards the direction of her temporary "home." It was silent, other than the trees surrounding her creaking and moaning with each breeze that rushed by, making her a tad bit uncomfortable. The Russian gripped her weapon and continued on, turning her body every now and then to keep a close out eye for any of those "walkers" as she liked to call them. Suddenly, within a second of that thought, a creature hobbled out from behind one of the trees, followed by two more and snapped their rotting jaws at her warm flesh. Natascha, as fast as possible, dropped her sniper to the ground and pulled her cleaver from the holster on her leg, sinking that sharp blade into the soft skull of the first one. Using her foot, she kicked off the dead body and sprinted forward, twirling in a complete circle before slicing the head off the other. "Oh look at you," she grinned at the last one, which hobbled over with less speed and held it's weak arms out. "I'm sure you'll enjoy this more than I will.." Natascha ambled over and sank her blade into her palm, breaking the skin and flourishing her arm with thin lines of crimson. The creature frenzied, picking up it's speed and nearly running after her. With a simple movement, she kicked it down and pinned it with her heel, dripping the blood onto it's face and mouth. "Three.. two.. ONE." she counted, moving her foot across his body and smashing it down onto it's face, completely demolishing the head. Bits of bone and flesh splattered everywhere, decorating the grounds in such a wonderful manner.