Undead epicenter {Alice x Kid} (Other members always welcomed)

(lol lets pause till Kid returns)


Alice stares and sighs and looks at Tyler "Your a nerd...aren't you?" Mason laughs a little "Man this will be so entertaining..." he peaks out the window "That creep is still chewing the fence! he is determined!" Alice looks at Mason "how is the fence holding?" Mason looks at it "so far so good"
 
((I'm so sorry! My computer went kaput. ))


"I-It sounds stupid as heck, but it might work...but how are we gonna get it out there?" Edwin said, still shaking and gripping onto his bat.
 
(Mine too, last night.)


Toni glances around, looking for some sort of smaller window or just one with vertical or horizontal bars "Is there a barred window anywhere here with the bars spread far enough apart to throw out the air-horn? That would be the best way, in my opinion." She asked Mason, saying the last bit factually.
 
((Same, my brother got to watch me go insane xD sorry for the short repply, im at work))


Mason thinks "Hmmm....we have access to the roof of the house.... would that work?" Alice looks at Edwin "Calm down....All that stress will kill you" sh laughs a little.
 
Toni nods, "I think so. It just depends on the trajectory and the strength of whoever throws it. It actually may be easier, as you are then aiming from above rather than below."
 
Edwin sighed sharply, sitting down and holding his head in his hands. "We're dead, we are so dead...!" He kicked the floor, grunting in frustration.
 
Alright, so we have an escape plan but who's gonna throw it, and what if it doesn't work then we need to find a way out the back or something, Tyler asks Mason "how many do you think are out there, would it be easier just to sneak up behind them?"
 
(Pause for now till everyone's online and im super busy at work)


Mason smiles "then lets get to the roof!" he starts to walk through the house as Alice follows.
 
Okay, I made the character sheet.

Name: Nick O'lin.


Age: 16


Height: 5'9


Looks:


Nick can be described as 5'9 and quickly growing, fair skinned Caucasian male. He has grayish-green eyes and weighs about a hundred and thirty five pounds. He is rather lean individual, but is also wiry with muscle easily strong enough to lift his own weight. His hair is blond and with a few freckles running over the bridge of his noes. His average attire is blue jeans with a few rips in them, and a pure black, snug muscle shirt that used to give the zombies less to grab onto. He wears a pair of black and white Adidas running shoes. He wears a gray skate hat upon his head, which is always turned backwards. His face is usually adorned with a respirator and a pair of googles, as keeping the stench of rotten flesh and the debris out of the eyes is always a good idea. On his knees are knee pads which have come in handy in various occasions. Upon his neck is a small necklace made from a leather strip. It has a locket attached to the end, with a picture of his family cut and placed into it.


Wears:


As I said, a plain black muscle shirt, a pair of ripped blue jeans, knee pads, googles, skate hat, a respirator, he also wears a pair of black fingerless gloves, and has a pair of black and white running shoes. He has a white watch on his left arm and wears a small locket with a picture of his family in it. He also has a large backpack on his back that he uses to carry his supply of water and food. Along with any extra ammo or trinkets.


Weapons:


Tomahawk: CLICK ME!


Glock 22: CLICK ME.


Bio:


My name is Nick. But nobody calls me that. I dont really want anyone to either.


Everyone just calls me Q, which is which is... was my dad's nickname. Finding dead things isn't what it used to be anymore. Now it's a choice that will always lead to some form of death at one point of another. Whether that death is yours, your buddy's, or something else's is up the to decisions you make.


Back when the world was sane and had hope. When it wasn't fully of chaos and destruction. When the dead were just that, I lived in a medium sized neighborhood with two brothers, a mom and a dad, a dog, and several kids live walking distance away. Most of them were one or two years younger than me, a few little kids, the usual. But I was the oldest kid around. people saw me as a leader in a way. The guy they could turn to in a sticky situation. I never let this thought go to my head, but being the big shot was nice.


I now know it was a cruel joke by fate. To be given all of this, only to have it snatched away. I couldn't save anyone. I'm only alive right now because of my dad, who was the only one he helped me get this far. Gave me a gun, taught me to hunt. He helped me learn everything he did when he was in the military. He wasn't a marine. He was actually the C.O. for an air force squadron. Been in the military for several years. He taught me bits and pieces before. How to use a gun and shoot. When its right to use deadly force. But that was it. This... this was the real deal. Either I do it and live or dont and die.


He taught me a lot in the past year.


I'm glad he didn't go out from the horde. He went out kicking in a raid. He woke me up that night, got me ready, and grabbed all necessities. We were outnumbered, ten to one. We took out a few before he was shot in the back. He went down, but took out the one who shot him. I defended him, dragging him to cover and having him help me take anyone who poped out from cover.


When all was said and done, he wasn't going to make it. He gave me his badge, and had me take his life by his pistol as he didn't want to become one of... them. A Glock-22, to be exact. I still remember what he said to me before I did it.


'Watching the world burn and crumble beneath me, I wondered what was to become with all of this. What was there to look forward to? Death? Contempt that we had survived while so many others died? Whichever the answer, I wish not to know. I only know that it is a cruel joke that an old man like me survived while so many women and children have perished. But that's all passed us now. Keep living, because I'm not letting you stay wherever we go if you die. I'm proud of you.'


I met others along the way. Some good, some bad. But I'm still kicking. I'm still breathing. I'm still shooting my gun. And I'm not infected.


When I run out of bullets... Baby, I made the infected wish I had 'em.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
((Whelp, I guess the thread is dead, unless someone has amazing thread resurrection powers or something.))
 
Name: John Clark


Age: 25


Looks: 5-9, 165 lbs, Medium build, military fade brown hair, Bright Blue eyes.


Wears: Multicam uniform, Cap with the ranger tab sewn on the front. A 75th Ranger battalion scoll on both shoulders, Air assault pack (smaller ruck), and a Multicam fighting load carrier (basic issue harness that holds ammo, and other equipment).


Weapon: Re-Curve Bow multicam and a Colt 1911 45. ACP.


BIO: Ranger instructor out of Fort Benning Georgia. He was with some canidates when news came over the radio of undead attacks. After trying to organize a assault to take back the base him as his pals escaped in a Black Hawk. After months of fighting the helicopter crashed outside of a near by town. With little supplies and no friends or family he is doing all he knows how to do. Survive and kill. 
Moving into a three story hotel on the outskirts of town he waited for the doors to open by standing on the mat. After a second in smiled in spite of himself. Of course the automatic doors don't work dumb dumb. Looking around he took a stick and gently pried the doors open. He didn't want to make any unneeded sound. Sliding the door closed after him he turned back and as a after thought wrote "one person alive inside" back wards, so it could be read outside. Taking a look down the hall he spotted one or two undead staff walking around. Taking aim he went to work. Nine undead in all on the first floor, three on the next and with only one on the last he took a moment to walk out on the balcony to observe his surroundings. The place was silent with only several dozen undead walking around. At least it wasn't screaming and gun fire. Placing his pack on the still reasonably clean bedding he took out some Jerk and chewed on it. "So this is the end of the world.... thought it would be.... louder I guess."
 
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