House Greyjoy
New Member
View attachment 61227 You are dialed into Faith 7677. The believer's and survivor's network.
Please stay tuned for an incoming radio message:
A kind, soothing deep male voice begins to speak, and in this harsh world, it's hard to ignore.
****Friend, does it even matter how it started? Was it a virus that became uncontrollable? A strain of mad cow diseases perhaps, or nano-bites, or perhaps as some of my own brothers call it: The Judgement. Whatever your belief is about how the dead are walking, and why they are stalking us- it doesn't matter. We are all the same.
There is a safe-house for you.
What have you done in your past that keeps you from our gates? Do you fear our judgement? Have you murdered the dead, or maybe the living? Have you become a thief to survive? Do not fear us for even we have done unspeakable things. We are all the same.
There is a safe-house for you.
St. Michael's on 19th St. will welcome you. I and my brothers will welcome you with open arms, a soft bed, and a warm meal for as long as you need it. Come as you are.****
The transmission ends, but soon repeats on a loop as it seems to be the only radio station still in operation. Just who are these saints offering hope and aid to the suffering?
Are you desperate enough to find out?
1. Only human characters
2. No god-modding
3. Respect others
4. Character must be approved before joining the story
"There are a great many theories out there. Our brotherhood believes it is the Judgement, but if I may confess to you, I do not believe it to be true." At this stage in the conversation, the young follower's voice dropped out of range as he stated his scientific case. The Brothers, the true Brothers, would frown on this sort of talk if any of them should hear it, but it being a group of brothers in training they could have conversations like this without fear of chastisement.
When had they all started talking so formally? It's as if we live in the Dark Ages. Argyle's mind wandered as he walked passed a group of Brothers huddled in their black robes like a great group of gnats hovering over a pile of excrement.
He smiled to himself as he heard their musings. Frankly, he didn't care so much as how it happened, but why. For years, the nuts had been talking about zombies being a possibility, and he'd only frown and curse under his breath about it. He passed the group in the hallway on his way to the front doors of the cathedral in a hurry because he didn't want to get caught up in their discussion.
The front doors- This was where he liked to spend his days, receiving people, and letting them hear a familiar voice, if they had happened to hear of the church from the radio, if not, he liked to receive them anyway. Maybe it was selfish, and it made him feel heroic, whatever the reason, he enjoyed the rush. Maybe it was the flood of humanity and compassion, or the hope for a familiar face that drove him to that post. Maybe he was only hoping to see a pretty face.
The front doors were guarded by a sniper in the bell tower night and day, 24/7, but even so, sometimes one of the dead would slip through and he'd get some excitement in his day. Argyle waited, his arms crossed, his eyes staring at the front door for any and all who would venture inside the cathedral.
Please stay tuned for an incoming radio message:
A kind, soothing deep male voice begins to speak, and in this harsh world, it's hard to ignore.
****Friend, does it even matter how it started? Was it a virus that became uncontrollable? A strain of mad cow diseases perhaps, or nano-bites, or perhaps as some of my own brothers call it: The Judgement. Whatever your belief is about how the dead are walking, and why they are stalking us- it doesn't matter. We are all the same.
There is a safe-house for you.
What have you done in your past that keeps you from our gates? Do you fear our judgement? Have you murdered the dead, or maybe the living? Have you become a thief to survive? Do not fear us for even we have done unspeakable things. We are all the same.
There is a safe-house for you.
St. Michael's on 19th St. will welcome you. I and my brothers will welcome you with open arms, a soft bed, and a warm meal for as long as you need it. Come as you are.****
The transmission ends, but soon repeats on a loop as it seems to be the only radio station still in operation. Just who are these saints offering hope and aid to the suffering?
Are you desperate enough to find out?
1. Only human characters
2. No god-modding
3. Respect others
4. Character must be approved before joining the story
"There are a great many theories out there. Our brotherhood believes it is the Judgement, but if I may confess to you, I do not believe it to be true." At this stage in the conversation, the young follower's voice dropped out of range as he stated his scientific case. The Brothers, the true Brothers, would frown on this sort of talk if any of them should hear it, but it being a group of brothers in training they could have conversations like this without fear of chastisement.
When had they all started talking so formally? It's as if we live in the Dark Ages. Argyle's mind wandered as he walked passed a group of Brothers huddled in their black robes like a great group of gnats hovering over a pile of excrement.
He smiled to himself as he heard their musings. Frankly, he didn't care so much as how it happened, but why. For years, the nuts had been talking about zombies being a possibility, and he'd only frown and curse under his breath about it. He passed the group in the hallway on his way to the front doors of the cathedral in a hurry because he didn't want to get caught up in their discussion.
The front doors- This was where he liked to spend his days, receiving people, and letting them hear a familiar voice, if they had happened to hear of the church from the radio, if not, he liked to receive them anyway. Maybe it was selfish, and it made him feel heroic, whatever the reason, he enjoyed the rush. Maybe it was the flood of humanity and compassion, or the hope for a familiar face that drove him to that post. Maybe he was only hoping to see a pretty face.
The front doors were guarded by a sniper in the bell tower night and day, 24/7, but even so, sometimes one of the dead would slip through and he'd get some excitement in his day. Argyle waited, his arms crossed, his eyes staring at the front door for any and all who would venture inside the cathedral.
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