162 replies to this topic

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

"All right then," surmised Darkman, "seems like we got ourselves a plan. We wait for them to attack, then take 'em by surprise by gunning up to their rear. When they get too close for comfort, we flare their asses and with luck they'll be too confused to eat us. In the mean time, Silva on the .50, and anyone who feels like a bit of sniping duty, aim for the leaders, closest to us first. If we take out all of them, hopefully the brainless ones won't be able to organise themselves. Any questions?"
He paused, but was greeted only with silence, pregnant with the feeling of inevitable doom.
Johnny swallowed, and continued. "OK then. I think it's about time we got a message to the city - we ought to let them know we're coming."

((OOC: Anyone who feels like writing our little communiqué to the other survivors go ahead. Once it's done we'll begin our descent from the hillside, into the horde. Time to store up the similes guys - I'm expecting some quality fight posts here ))
((OOC: Oh, and on a side note, I'd like to wish a big Happy Birthday to Copaman, who is now old enough to sex people. In Britain at least So yeah, go him ))

Edited by Fire Ze Missiles!, 15 June 2008 - 01:28 PM.

[some_weirdGuy]

((lol, happy B day copa ))

Kelvin got to sending out the message
"calling all people in the city... we are coming to help, just hold out, we need to wait till they have their attention on attacking the walls, then we'll come in" Kelvin paused, waiting to see if there was a reply

((cant be bothed writing a big thing, someone else can do the reply ))

[war_angel]

"I'm cool with manning the .50 cla, but im not sure how long it'll last, theres not much ammo left!"
He grinned at Darkman, "just point and i'll blast fuck outta anything thats there!"

He stepped up onto his gun, and heaved the large cocking handle to the rear, making it ready, "Right whenver you're ready"

[Paladin58]

"Use the grenades, under the seats of the van."

Titus was still around 15 miles away, trying his best to catch up. He had to slow down to conserve fuel, and his vision. Since there was no one to spray pesticides anymore, bug populations were climbing back up to pre-Industrial Revolution levels. That meant a lot of bugs eaten by Titus, and he hadn't a helmet to protect his eyes. He was hoping to catch up before the battle began.

(OOC: I sorta want to make a dramatic entrance with this bike, so I'm going to wait to make my move. And, sorry about not posting recently.)

Edited by Nology5890, 18 June 2008 - 10:52 AM.

[southsidediablo]

"I'll ride in the back of a truck. Just yell to me and I'll light the flares on the bastards." John picked up the bag of flares and took a long drink from his canteen.

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

The radio crackled into life once again.
"Unidentified survivors - what are your numbers and position?"
Carl, sat on the edge of a truck near where the radio was set up, moved over and began to relate technicalities to the soldier on the other end. Although his communication's were brief and to the point, Carl could hear the hope and happiness in the stranger's voice as they talked. Evidently no more survivors had arrived here for a long time. He was told that an attack by the besieging force was expected after nightfall, the same as the two nights before. After a time, they were finished, and all that remained was to wait.
"My commander sends his thanks. Good luck. Over and out."

***

Several hours later, the undead horde had still not attacked. Night had indeed fallen, and the mood was tense. Some of the more experienced fighters had taken a nap, but most of the band were too afraid, too filled with anticipation to sleep. Dean counted himself among the latter group as he wandered around the quiet camp. Conversation was scarce, and with the wind coming from the city, Dean could hear the unearthly moans and groans of the waiting army beneath him. Shuddering, he retreated further into the trees. He noticed with grim amusement that Silva had spent the entire evening on the .50 cal. chair in the hummer, refusing to move for god nor man. Dean thought him asleep, but as he looked the man opened an eye and grinned savagely. Smiling weakly in return, Dean decided his time would be better spent elsewhere. Shrugging, Silva closed his eyes once more and returned to thoughts of carnage and destruction. 'You and me baby,' he thought, looking tenderly at the massive gun mounted in front of him, 'together we'll take on the world...'

Stepping quietly into the back of a nondescript truck, Dean moved to the far end and the body lying there. Helena.
She had remained unconscious, in a state of coma, ever since the Screamer had kidnapped her that fateful night. Between the things that kept happening since then, Dean had had little to time to think about his sleeping friend. But now that he had a moment to himself, he found he was extremely worried about her. He had entertained hopes of medical treatment and awakening in the city, but would they really care for some girl in a coma when the place was under siege? And what if she never woke up? Would she be stuck like this forever? Honestly, he couldn't think of a plausible explanation for her sleep to have lasted this long anyway. he had thought she had received a blow to the head or something, but that wouldn't keep her out for two weeks. No, something was wrong here, and Dean had no idea what. Perhaps-
"Dean." He jumped at the voice and span around. Breathing a sigh of relief, he saw that it was only Darkman, clearly risen from his sleep. He glanced at Helena, and looked sympathetic.
"Don't worry about her. Not tonight." Stepping in, he clapped Dean on the shoulder with his veteran hand, as if willing some of his experience into the young man. Removing it suddenly, he turned about and walked out of the vehicle.
"Grab your stuff boy. It's time."

((OOC: OK, so anyone who posts now describe your position in the trucks - gunning at the walls or sniping from a cabin or roof. Feel free to talk about what you can see of the horde below (who have now started attacking) - use your imaginations. Think terrifying. In the meantime, please see the OOC section for a question on which I'd like your opinions.))

[war_angel]

((OOC: 'You and me baby,' he thought, looking tenderly at the massive gun mounted in front of him, 'together we'll take on the world...' Too right!

So anyway you obviously know my place, but am i staying ont he hill? or is the hummer coming down with you?))

Silva looked down towards the horde, but he did not see the rotting un dead corpes of normal civilians. All he saw was meat, moving half-living targets, game if you will, and he would take out as many as he could, even if he had to go down with them.

[southsidediablo]

John sat in the back of a pickup truck. He checked his pack, making sure everything was nice and secure. Once he was sure, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it up and place it in his mouth. He savored the flavor, and took it out. He looked around at the others, hoping they would be able to make it through the battle that lied ahead. He finished off the cigarette, threw it to the ground, and fell asleep, preparing for the battle.

[Vortigern]

Augustus sat, curled up tight, in the back of one of the trucks. He was comfortable, alone in the dark, even in these troubled times. He had often felt better being on his own, especially when he had serious thinking to do, as now. How can we hope to win? If one of our number dies they get one more. This is an unwinnable war.

He knew his place in the battle ahead. He would stand at the back, unable to help, feeling useless, like a baby needing looking after, right up until the moment when the guns ran dry. Then he would truly come into his own. He felt himself a true master of swordsmanship now, having lived and been prepared to die by the sword for as long as this had been going on. Agile, aware, cunning, thoughtful, he was a foe to be feared. And given that the enemy were incapable of moving at more than about a slow walking pace, he had never had too much trouble. Rising, he went off to find something against which he could sharpen his sword.

[some_weirdGuy]

Kelvin licked his lips and sat back, he held his gun tight, his knuckles white. "easy now boo, you need to be brave..." although he spoke to boo, the comments were really to himself. He looked down, and the hamster climbed back into the bag.

He looked over, down at the hoard.
it was horrifying. The undead were almost 'marching', their slow pace adding to the horror, and while most seemed to keep to their ordered ranks, some, the sprinters, would run around wildly, throwing themselves at the walls. and the whole time a darkness seemed to be building, originating at the vile leaders, almost like a black fog, it spread across the ground.
he then looked over, and as he looked he could swear that one of the infected leaders was looking back at him. Just standing there, an island in the flowing sea of infected, its eyes, or where eyes would have been were they not rotted away, were burning into his own

Wait, do they know we are here? can they see us? fear welled inside him, but the infected leader turned back its attention to the walls, and Kelvin let out a sigh of relief. their cover wasn't blown just yet...

[True Lord of Chaos]

((OOC:Is there anyone who needs to die soon? Because I could be the killer ))

[some_weirdGuy]

((lol, we usually leave the people killing to the infected, but im sure as one of the people in the town, holding back the infected, you would kill plenty of them[the infected, not the people in the town ]....))

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

((OOC: OK, so I've rolled for your deaths. You will each receive a PM entitled 'The End of Days?', which will contain one word; either SURVIVAL, WOUNDED or DECEASED. Should it be necessary, a few extra details will also be included. Obviously, don't share your result with everyone else. So, that's that. I'll get on with posting our descent in a minute.))
((Oh, and War_Angel, all the vehicles, Hummer included, are heading down the hillside.))

Before packing up the radio equipment, Darkman sent out for Titus.
"Where are you Titus?"
"No more than two miles from your position - gimme five minutes, I'll be there."
"Right you are, we'll-" Darkman suddenly stopped, the words catching in his throat.
"Darkman? You all right up there?"
Johnny didn't hear. He was too busy staring at the Undead Captain, who was busy staring back at him. Fiery orange eyes burned brightly within a shrouded head, a shrivelled body levitating eerily a few inches from the ground. As Darkman stared, the creature slowly raised a withered hand to point at him. Straight at him.
There was a terrible moment as Darkman felt the Captain issue his order - every sentient being within a mile would have been conscious of it. As one head, the undead around the Captain turned to face him, then Darkman. With a flick of the Captain's wrist, a hundred sprinters detached themselves smartly from the main attack and began heading up the hill towards Darkman and the others.
"Fuck!" he cried. "We've been seen! Mount up, NOW!"
Grabbing the radio equipment, he hurled it into the nearest truck and jumbled in after it. Grabbing the receiver, he garbled a message to Titus.
"You're gonna have to catch us up Titus - they're onto us!"

Riding through the lonely dark on his motorbike, Titus could hear Darkman through the receiver, yelling instructions to others. He heard the rumble of engines, and the staccato crackle of gunfire. He heard the unearthly screams of the undead.
Ramping the bike as much as he dared, Titus sped up. No amount of face-eating insects would stop him helping his friends.

***

As they bounced down the steep hillside, Darkman let go of the radio and picked up his weapon.
"John!" he yelled, "Ready with the flares!"
Rocketing towards the horde, undead before them, undead behind them, the noise was deafening. Engines roared, guns blazed, bullets screamed through the air, and infected died. The convoy tumbled on, disgorging fire like an angry demon. The infected were cut down in swathes before the unstoppable approach of the iron column. But they were yet to reach the massed ranks of the undead horde.
From the heights of the hill, a clear view was afforded to anyone with the time to look at it. The gunfire in the welling darkness lit the city of survivors like a defiant beacon, blazing in the night. Beyond the walls, however, the darkness was absolute. Summoned up by the mysterious powers of the undead leaders, the impenetrable clouds of blackness drifted above the infected warriors, protecting them from the attentions of the humans' guns. One of the Captains, a leanly muscled specimen which strode confidently where others stumbled, extended an arm to the walls and beckoned. At once a tendril of darkness leapt from him and wrapped itself tight round an unfortunate man. The Captain jerked his arm backwards, and the man was hurled bodily from the wall, screaming into the horde beneath him. In another place, a twisted abomination of a creature with two enormous arms battered away at the wall, pulling hugs chucks from the concrete, only to have its head blown open by a defender's shotgun. For either side, the battle was far from won.
Abruptly, a shift of attention was felt. The presence of the convoy charging into the rear of their attack was brought to the attention of the horde. Positions were changed, and troops were mobilised. By this time the convoy was far too far down to retreat - they were committed to their last stand, for better or worse. And as the undead forces formed a ring around the hurtling vehicles, it looked like worse.
The infected charged heedlessly at them from all directions. Hundreds were laid low, but thousands more took their place. Bullets sang through the air, ripping bloody chunks from half-living bodies, tearing the air from perforated lungs, loosing vital fluids from their carriers. But an endless tide of bodies always replaced the fallen, and the moment of contact was inevitable.
It was then, as the first sprinters threw themselves at the leading vehicle, as the roiling clouds of darkness flowed above the convoy, as the previously human tide met the rock of the survivors, it was then, in that moment of perfect clarity, that John Doe released the flares.
The globe of light flashed into the night skies, surrounded by a shining corona of radiance. It was an unmissable signal, and a powerful one. Used to the endless darkness favoured by their commanders, the undead were blinded and confused. The black clouds scattered and dispersed, revealing those beneath for what, and where they were. And with that sight, the fire began to rain down...




((OK guys. Go!))

Edited by Fire Ze Missiles!, 22 June 2008 - 04:10 PM.

[war_angel]

The hummer hurteled down the hill side, and Silva kept the fire up on the .50 cal. Bullets screamed throught he air, smashing into the souless corpses of the un dead. There was a sudden stop as te front of the hummer hit a ridge, and plowed itself into the ground, Silva was thrown forward from his position on the gun, his head smashed off the concrete infront of the hummer, all went black.

..........

Silva woke up a few seconds later, there was an agonising ringing in his head, suddenly the noise s around him became more promenant, and he began hearing gun shts, and screams. He jumped up, instantly feeling light headed,he could feel the blood pouring form his head, and he quickly ripped off his shirt, and used it to stop the bleeding.

He turned to the hummer, and saw both drivers dead, he knew what he had to do. He ran up to the gun and after loosing one handle, ripped it form the vehicle. He ran forward down the hill, still firing the .50 cal, he ran slowly at first but as teh adrenaline began to kick in, he built up speed. Screaming wildly and bursting off 50 rounds at a time, he continued to run.

After loosing off his whole belt, the .50 was just a dead weight, he dropped it to the ground, and quickly pulled his shotgun form his back. As he charged towards te horde, He could feel the blood seaping through his bandage, he knew het last long, but he would do what he could while he did.

((OOC: is that wounded enough?!))
((FZEDIT: Yeah, that oughta do it mate =) ))

Edited by Fire Ze Missiles!, 22 June 2008 - 04:09 PM.

[southsidediablo]

"Hell Yeah! Get some!" John started yelling, bringing up his rifle and firing magazine after magazine into the horde. Some were lit ablaze from the flares, some were charging the city, and the rest were after the convoy. "They can't get away now! We'll take every last one of them down!" He slammed a fresh clip into his rifle, and started to fire on the closest commander near him.

[True Lord of Chaos]

((OOC:Newcomer:Joe Johnson Read about him in The Infected Asylum, and his character bio))
Joe slipped his AK-47 into his bag, made sure he could make it, and jumped onto the rear bumper of the truck. He looked for any open windows, but found none, and the doors were locked. He decided that if he wanted to be with any survivors, he would have to either bash in a window, or pick a lock. Lucky for him, he still had his knives, and started to break the lock in a door, until he heard some conversation.
"What was that?" he heard someone say.
"I'll go check it out," someone else said.

He quickly took the knife out, holstered it, and proceeded to climb to the top of the truck.
Joe peers over the top of the truck to see if anyone was looking.
"All clear," Joe whispers to himself. He carefully climbs down and begins breaking the lock again. This time, he is much more careful. He gets the knife in the lock, and pounds it, making a loud banging noise. Fortunately, the gunfire coming from the truck was much louder.
He slowly opened the door, and was instantly greeted by insane stares, and shaking guns.
"Don't shoot me! I'm just trying to be around survivors after they killed everyone I knew!" Joe instantly screamed.

((OOC:If this sounds like I'm going to die too quickly, or resembles Splinter Cell too much, just tell me and I can change it to be less awesomely Splinter Cell-like.))
((OOC:I'm not scheduled to die yet, and I'm still in my grace period, so decide what happens to me. Don't, and I mean DON'T, shove me out of the vehicle, or shoot/injure me. Oh, and btw, close the door before anything we don't want gets in.))

Edited by Fire Ze Missiles!, 23 June 2008 - 04:56 PM.
Please don't double post.

[Paladin58]

Titus began climbing a hill, and the gunshots and moans began to climb higher exponentially in his awareness. He could tell he was closing in on the battle, and that in the next ten seconds, he better be psyched, because he had a crazy idea. Time to kill two big-ass birds with one beefy stone, he thought.

He neared the crest, and knew he'd need more speed, even though he was pushing 150. He turned the crank like no one else, sending the bike into unseen speeds in the time since it was manufactured. He past the crest of the hill, and the bike kept going up, as if it would travel into the heavens... Had there not been such a force as gravity. As the bike's descent from the air began to be more evident, he saw the true threat, and knew what he must do. As the bike landed, he focused on the commanders, those so similar to the Screamer.

He gunned it, and as the bike was starting to give out, he began to do something crazy: he decided to bail; at 80 miles per hour. He set the course of the bike towards one of the commanders, and did a handspring off, sending it careening towards the undead bastard. But, as it lost control, the bike turned, and flipped the trajectory into a group of undead. As it collided still in mid air roll, a spark from the frame already contorting into a circus-performer Transformer, combined with the gas tank still having a quarter of a tank caused the now-combined mass of flesh, metal and oil to combust and explode.

Titus, meanwhile, was doing cartwheels and somersaults in the direction of a razed undead squad, thanks to the expert bullet-slinging of Silva. He hit like a sack of bricks, his jumpsuit padded enough to keep any undead wounds from penetrating and turning him, but not for keeping him completely intact. He lay near the group, on a stretch of open ground, his right leg broken, several ribs fractured, and half-conscious; if he had not tried to use his leg to slow himself down, his wounds would have been much worse. Another commander stood over him, preparing to devour its first survivor in weeks; or so it thought, until it had the broken-off barrel of an anti-material sniper rifle in its mouth, which made it freeze in confusion.

"Ah-ah, you didn't wash up before supper," he said, weakly and with fire in his lungs, before sending the creature's remaining consciousness into the sky behind it. He sat up, and began to crawl his way towards the convoy, the pain keeping him awake.

(OOC: Before you say "HOW THE HELL?!", I warned that it was going to be grandiose, and you guys should know by now that I "go big or go home" when I'm going to go grandiose. That, and FZM said I'd survive, so I may have killed him otherwise. Also, if someone could save my ass, that would be appropriate.

One more thing, the commander I kill could be instead a sprinter, but it was part of the drama factor that I chose the commander, so that can be edited.)

Edited by Nology5890, 23 June 2008 - 03:36 AM.

[some_weirdGuy]

OOC: myself... your post doesn't really make much sense...

you race in, through an army of infected[because we were in the middle of them], you grab onto the back of our car, which isn't a big truck, so to 'go check it out' all someone would have to do is turn their head. and you cut your way in, just to be with us?....

i reckon you should have just said you were on the wall, or that you come in on your bike like titus, but instead of crashing it, you drive up next to us killing infected as you go, before leaping off onto our roof or something cool, then you can take shots at infected till we slow down enough to let you in, or whatever

just trying to think of somthing that makes more sense then what you have put in... i understand maybe you dont know exactly whats going on, but from what i can tell we are driving through the middle of infected, like a car driving through long grass, they are all around us, so really there is no way for you to get at us to be able to climb aboard...

[/rant]

anyway:
---------------

Kelvin fired like a madman out of his window, all around infected could be seen clinging to the sides, front, and back. Their faces looming to become a spray of gore as kelvin fired, his heart was pumping like crazy, his hands were trembling, and sometime he would have to look away as a surprisingly still-human looking form would be blasted to a pulp... it didn't really matter though, there were so many infected, he could hardly miss...

[Vortigern]

Augustus leaned out of the window, slashing widely and wildly with his ancient broadsword, while all the while Silva, on the roof above, kept the fire of the .50 calibre gun trained on the massed horde. Abruptly Augustus felt the vehicle dig into the earth ahead of them, hurling everyone about the vehicle. He saw the driver, his head nearly torn off by the collision with the steering wheel, embedded with broken glass, and his partner, quickly bleeding to death in the passenger seat. There was nothing Augustus could do for them, and he stumbled from the hummer, somehow completely intact. A few infected shambled towards him, but Silva's near-miraculous accuracy with the powerful weaponry had decimated them around here. Sword in hand, a few infected met with a bloody end. Augustus gazed around him, hoping for a miracle. The wall was about half a mile distant, and he would have to trek his way towards it on foot.

A roaring in the direction from which they had approached caught Augustus' attention, and he looked up from slashing away a few infected hands clawing at his legs. Titus, one of those who had come in with the survivor group from the city, came careering over a small hillside at tremendous speed, and went cartwheeling off his motorbike, pushing it smoothly in the direction of a gaggle of undead soldiers. He flipped off and rolled in Augustus' direction, battered and broken looking. Augustus began to move towards him, and nearly smiled as he saw his wounded comrade blow the head off an inquisitive infected commander.

"Need a hand?" asked Augustus as soon as he got close enough to be heard. Titus looked up, and did smile. Augustus helped him to his feet, noting that his leg was broken, among doubtless many, hopefully less significant, other wounds. "Let's get us off into that city. Keep your hand around that gun of yours." They hobbled off together, like competitors in a morbid, lethal three-legged race.

((Consider your ass nearly saved. Still a way to go, though. Some more vehicular help might be appreciated by two lost souls still rather hoping for a miracle. ))

Edited by Vortigern, 23 June 2008 - 11:06 AM.

[True Lord of Chaos]

((

OOC: myself... your post doesn't really make much sense...

you race in, through an army of infected[because we were in the middle of them], you grab onto the back of our car, which isn't a big truck, so to 'go check it out' all someone would have to do is turn their head. and you cut your way in,

1. I've got a freakin AK-47 that I had taped onto my bike, which, at the last second I take off
2. Wasn't there a truck somewhere in there?
3. I didn't cut my way in, I broke the lock, which is done by sticking a knife, or other metal object, into the keyhole, and slamming it, so the lock is opened, and usually destroyed. ))

Edited by myself, 23 June 2008 - 04:33 PM.