Aim For The Head(Open)

OoC: Okay, here are the rules. Pleas no uber magical or super powered characters, they kinda ruin the fun, ya know? Only one character per person. This takes place on an island pre-modern city of about 210 thousand, all are zombies. The island is about the size of manhatten. Also zombies can only be killed by well...aiming for the head.

And whatever you do, have fun, =3

Edit: FTR When I said pre-Modern I meant like 1930's. That way their are still guns, and cars, =3

BiC:
The darkened city was eerily silent as a young boy walked slowly through it’s rain dampened streets. His boots splashing through water, distorting the reflections of the full moon that hung above. The young man did not seem the least bit bothered by the dark and ghostly night, using the full moon as a guide he continued forward towards his destination.

Devin, as the boy was known, was a young man not unused to battle and thievery, as was his friend and close confident who was strangely missing. Together they had been surviving of the food of others, and only traveling when the city caught onto their tactics. The orphan children really had no other choice, without the prestige of parenthood they had no chance to succeed in the world. That night was one like any other, they where running out of food so Devin was dispatched to steal some from an unprotected shop in the dark of the night. Little did he know what was in store.

The scuffling of feet scurried behind Devin, who spun suddenly grabbing his weapon in hand. Nothing. Again the feet where behind him, this time he didn’t have time to turn to see, with a sharp crack and instant pain Devin found himself face down in the dirt, staring at the shoes of an unknown assailant.

_-_-_---------_-_-_

It was still night as the vagabond finally regained consciousness. He however was in a fairly different place, lying against the trunk of great tree he slowly picked himself up and dusted off his already dirty clothes. Looking around he was a bit perplexed his mind still foggy from the shot he had received to his head. What he thought was a forest at first seemed to be little more then a small city park, for a pre-modern city. Nothing like the Arabian style town he had inhabited earlier that night.

“What…happened,” Devin’s mind shot back, reminding him of the shot to the head. Then to the person he left behind. Unfortunately for the man of small stature he did not have the time to respond, as the sound of a small growl behind him brought him back to reality. Spinning around he reached for his sword to no avail, only to be greeted by a pair of blood red glowing eyes.

“Who…” The vagabond stuttered, stepping backward, “W-ho are you?”

“rrrrrgh,” The human like beast that lurked in the blackness did not speak words. It couldn’t, however the soft gurgling sound it made let Devin know it was up to know good.

“What the hell…” Was the only thing Devin could say when the strange being stepped into the full moon’s light. It was a light shade of decaying green, it’s eyes where sunken and its nose was completely ripped off leaving only a disfiguring hole in its face. The Drifter could not move, for a few seconds frozen in fear. Only as the undead approached could he move, and even then it was only to fall hard onto the ground in a sitting position looking up as the red eyes loomed over him. “This…c-can’t be.” He stuttered trying to remove the fear from his body. His eyes darted to the left and the right looking for something, anything to save him. There it was. A broken stick right beside him; It was no sword but it was what he had. With all his might he grabbed the jagged chunk of wood and jammed it into the chest of the living dead. No reaction. The beast didn’t even stop, instead it was still moving slowly towards the boy it’s bloody hand closer to his head.

Something whizzed through the air.

Before Devin could comprehend what was going on the strange creature fell to the ground, twitching in pain, a small object through it’s eye. Footsteps. Devin just sat dumbfounded as a young Asian women walked past him, and picked the object –which Devin had then identified as a chop stick- from the creatures eye, cleaned it off, and stuck it through her hair, styled like a bun; which was already holding at least five others.

“Aim for the head” The women said turning around, “You are going to have to do better then that to survive,” She walked slowly over, reaching out her hand, “You okay kid?”

Before Devin had a chance to answer a loud booming sound filled the air, “Welcome one, and all to my little game. If you haven’t already figured it out yet you are now on an island filled to the brim with…lets call them unpleasant creatures. The goal here is survival of the fittest, a perfect chance to put Darwin to the test. I wont spoil the surprise by telling you how many contestants are on the island, but I will tell you how many will get off. In 100 hours the game will end and a total of five will leave the island –assuming of course there are that many left- if more then five survive my little test then you all get to stay an extra twenty four hours, how does that sound. For the record don’t trying swimming to safety, I can assure you the water is very poisoned. Now that the rules are done with let’s start with the fun part, PRIZES! Hidden on this island are a plethora of weapons for your amusement as you go around slaughtering what is already dead. Also for every 200 of my pets you kill you will be delivered via airmail some supplies, but beware I may forget which care is food and which is a live bomb. The only advice I can give you is don’t trust anyone, after all only five can survive and who know, maybe one of your “Friends” would like to sure up their survival s fast as possible by thinning the numbers. Just a thought. Enjoy your stay on this island paradise and…don’t forget to have fun…” The broadcast ended, and the timer began.

Jennifer opened her eyes, finding herself back down on the hard concrete ground, staring into the night sky. Her head was aching like crazy, and her memory of how she got here was blurry. Last thing she remembered, she had been in her apartment, making dinner. She began to wonder if she'd left the oven on or not, but it wasn't as important as remembering how she got outside. As she pondered her fuzzy memory, a loud voice began to ring through the air.

The voice told her that somehow she was on an island, and then it went on and on about some nonsense game involving unpleasant creatures and airmail surprises. Jennifer didn't trust most of what the voice said, considering none of it made sense. In fact, she decided she'd best check to make sure she was actually on an island like the voice claimed. Jennifer got up off the ground and brushed herself off. She found herself standing in the middle of an abandoned street. The yellow lines down the center of the street were faded to the point of being nearly impossible to see through the layer of dirt, dust, and debris that covered the road. Various vehicles were parked on the side of the road, or sitting right in the middle of the street, most of them with their windows shattered. The cars were all very old, like this city had been devoid of life for several decades. All the buildings along the street told the tale of some great disaster. The windows were all shattered, many of them were boarded over, and many boarded over windows had been broken through again. It was as if some great struggle over keeping the windows closed and keeping the windows opened had taken place here. The side trying to keep the windows open appeared to have won.

As Frost examined her surroundings, a sound behind her caused her to spin on her feet. All this talk of unpleasant creatures had her on alert. She wasn't wearing her armor, or her helmet, and she didn't have any of her weapons handy. The darkness of night hid whatever had created the noise. Frost reached down to her side, hoping to find what she had put there earlier. Indeed, her holster was still attached to her belt, and her weapon inside. She pulled it out, and pointed it towards the noise. "Who's there?" she called. The only reply was a grunt. "Come out and reveal yourself!" she called again.

"Hrrrrnghraaahgrsh..." a voice said from the darkness. Jennifer was able to determine that the sounds were coming from behind an overturned car. She slowly made her way towards the vehicle. She heard another noise, and then footsteps. Finally, a figure made itself clear from behind the car. It looked like a man, but he only had one arm. His other arm reached out towards Jennifer, his fingers clawing at the air. His head hung to one side, as if he couldn't hold it straight up, and he walked slowly as if unsure on his feet. He growled again, beginning to move faster.

"Stop where you are!" Jennifer told the man. He kept coming, and Frost had no choice. She shot the man in the shoulder. The man's outstretched arm dropped down by his side, now useless, but the man kept coming, growling ever louder and gurgling deep in his throat. She shot him in the leg, but it didn't deter him. Finally, given no other choice, she shot him through the heart, killing him. Or...no, the man continued to limp forward. Frost was sure she'd shot him through the heart, but she fired again to make sure. Indeed, a great hole now took the place of the man's chest, where his heart used to be.

The man was finally upon her, and she could see him clearly. His flesh hung loosely on his body, a pale color tinged with green, the color of decay. He smelled of rotting flesh, and one of his eyes hung by a thread from its socket. His shoulder, where she'd shot him, wasn't even bleeding. This man appeared to be already dead, but he acted quite alive. The creature tried to bite Jennifer, but she kicked him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground. The creature flailed its legs, trying to get back on its feet with only one arm. He seemed to be moving his other arm again, as if shooting it hadn't harmed it at all.

Jennifer aimed for the head, hoping to be able to finish it off this way. A single shot to the creature's forehead, and it ceased moving, its brain splattered all over the street. This creature reminded Jennifer of something, and it didn't take long for her to realize what it was. "Dear God, you must be kidding me. A zombie?" Frost said. Luckily she wasn't completely unarmed. With her revolver handy, a good shot to the head to any zombie she encountered should keep her safe. "Wait, revolver?" Jennifer looked back at her weapon. Of course it was a revolver, that's what she had put in the holster. The problem with that was...

She opened the revolving chamber of the weapon, confirming her fears. The revolver only had six shots. She'd fired five of them at the zombie. As a sidearm, she hadn't thought to carry any extra ammo. The weapon was more of a "just-in-case" thing. She also didn't have any other supplies, and she wouldn't last long without food and water. Already she was beginning to feel hungry. Well, there had to be supplies somewhere in this city. It was dark, though, which would make searching difficult. She considered making a torch, using whatever gasoline was left in the vehicles on the street, but the torch would probably attract more unpleasant creatures. She sighed, and holstered her revolver. With only one shot left, she would have to save it until she really needed it. Until she had another weapon or more ammunition, she would need to avoid the zombies.

Jennifer made her way to the nearest building, hoping she could take refuge inside.

He'd been on a boat... and then he woke up here. The in-between was a mystery, filled with a lot of snores, and a particularly uncomfortable mattress, from what he remembered. Had he been tossed over the side...? Washing up like flotsam on a shore was not an experience the prince was used to.

It was a little disorienting, being out of Medina again, without his horse or any sort of guide. Not too far, not even as far as the horizon, he could hear and see the signs of a city, the hustle and bustle of so many humans living in close proximity. But it clearly wasn't a city of the sort he was used to at home... no, it was the cities with the towering buildings, smoke stacks churning out exhaust, and car horns blaring that he had come to know and be perplexed by every time since he came to the Dome.

Hunter began to stride toward it, on shaky, noodle-like legs, his boots burying themselves in the wet sand, when he heard a voice that seemed to come from thin air shout out, "Welcome one, and all to my little game. If you haven’t already figured it out yet you are now on an island filled to the brim with…lets call them unpleasant creatures."

Unpleasant... creatures? he strained to listen closer, even though his head was still pounding faintly from whatever fall he might have taken off the ship.

"...if more then five survive my little test then you all get to stay an extra twenty four hours, how does that sound. For the record don’t trying swimming to safety, I can assure you the water is very poisoned. Now that the rules are done with let’s start with the fun part, PRIZES!," the crazed voice went on. The speaker sounded absolutely elated to be watching the events he was describing, "Hidden on this island are a plethora of weapons for your amusement as you go around slaughtering what is already dead..."

P-Poisoned water...? Did I not just... oh goodness, no wonder I feel strange! Had the water touched me before I reached the sand... perhaps not, perhaps I was just left on the beach... The prince quickly searched himself for injuries, and discovered a few corroded spots in his armor, particularly his greaves, but thankfully no other serious damage. He breathed a sigh of relief, until the rest of the words of the announcer clicked in his brain. ...slaughtering... what is already dead...? What on Medina does this all mean!?

Suddenly, Hunter was feeling even more lost, and unsafe. A shiver ran down his spine, as the sense that he was being watched slowly crept up on him, and reddish eyes began to shine from the bushes around the city...

He reached for his spear and shield, and gulped. "W-who goes there?"

Haze's eyes sprung open with a start, moonlight flickering in the misty sky above her. It was dark, it was cold, and she was lying on her back in a forest. Her breathing was heavy and her muscles tense. She'd been knocked unconscious. Her back felt naked. Her sword, it was missing.

Soledad was in an oasis in the middle of the desert; there were no forests around, yet here she was. What had happened? She couldn't remember a thing. She'd taken a jog earlier that morning and... the rest was foggy. Her head ached with a steady throb, meaning she was probably knocked out not too long ago. But why? Did they simply want to rob her of her blade? Then why bring her here?

She rolled into a sitting position. She inhaled deeply, but instantly recoiled. Something smelled like rotten meat. She coughed to keep herself from gagging. The stench was far too strong, almost as if she was sitting on it.

A sharp pain shot through her leg. Damn bugs. She slapped at it, her hand coming in contact with another hand. She let out a short yelp, pulling back from the arm that grabbed her. It was holding on tight, nails carving into her leggings and through her skin. It began to pull down, as if it were hoping for her to join it beneath the earth. She swung her hand at it, her black claws cleaving the green limb in half. It fell to the ground, limp and useless. So flimsy. Haze scrambled to her feet, wiping the small trace of blood on her leg clean. It wasn't deep, merely a scratch.

An eerie moan filled the air, causing Haze to jump. It was coming from beneath her feet. Dirt scattered up into her face as something burst up through the ground, moldy hand swiping for her neck. Her reflexes were too quick. She ducked beneath its manic swipe and delivered a tight kick to its groin. A satisfying snap sent the beast stumbling back, sagging awkwardly to the floor as its pelvis had cracked in half. It still moaned, louder this time. It clawed its way forward with its one good hand, both its legs useless now. It gnashed its teeth, its moan turning to a roar. It was certainly hungry, and she knew she was what was for dinner.

She had never seen anything like this before. It looked like a dead man, only its limbs dilapidated and its flesh rotting and peeling. It moved like it was alive, it sounded like it was alive, but somehow she knew it wasn't alive. She realized her arms were shaking. It was cold, but fear was what truly shook her: a chilling reminder that she was mortal, and that this creature was too.

She ran forward, kicking it sharply in the jaw, popping its head clean off. The moaning stopped, the clawing stopped, and she stopped to take a breath. What the hell was going on?

“Welcome one, and all to my little game!" An unnaturally loud, booming voice filled the sky. Haze instinctively reached for her blade, but of course it wasn't there. "If you haven’t already figured it out yet you are now on an island filled to the brim with…lets call them unpleasant creatures." An island? "The goal here is survival of the fittest, a perfect chance to put Darwin to the test." Who the blazes was Darwin? "I wont spoil the surprise by telling you how many contestants are on the island, but I will tell you how many will get off. In 100 hours the game will end and a total of five will leave the island –assuming of course there are that many left- if more then five survive my little test then you all get to stay an extra twenty four hours, how does that sound?" Haze began to run to where she thought the voice was coming from. She couldn't let this guy get away with whatever it was he thought he was doing. "For the record don’t trying swimming to safety, I can assure you the water is very poisoned."

He's mad!

"Now that the rules are done with let’s start with the fun part, PRIZES! Hidden on this island are a plethora of weapons for your amusement as you go around slaughtering what is already dead. Also for every 200 of my pets you kill you will be delivered via airmail some supplies, but beware I may forget which care is food and which is a live bomb. The only advice I can give you is don’t trust anyone, after all only five can survive and who know, maybe one of your “Friends” would like to sure up their survival s fast as possible by thinning the numbers. Just a thought." It shouldn't come to that. "Enjoy your stay on this island paradise and…don’t forget to have fun…”

With the voice now silenced, Hazed slowed her run. She couldn't quite tell where it was coming from. It seemed like she'd passed it a few times, but couldn't tell quite for sure. The forest was large and there were many other noises, throwing off her sense of direction. That blow to her head must have been harder than she first thought, she couldn't think straight. She had to find a way off this island, if she truly were on an island. All she knew for sure was that she wasn't going to die tonight. She'd find a way out of here, even if it meant being one of those five.

What had just happened? Simon could not quite put his finger on it. Not that he had one either, but his mind were just not working properly after the darkness. Or, now that he thought about it, there was this dark shadow thingy… And this panting man, who were running away from someone. And Simon tried to help him as the shadow attacked… And then there was nothing.

Simon shifted from his cougar form to his white ferret shape and tried to orient himself. Whatever this place was, it was so far away from the graveyard he had been on for a few seconds ago, but still so alike. It smelled rotten meat and dead people all over the place, but he was in a city. More precisely, he was in a back alley, in a long ago deceased part of a city. The windows were all broke, the doors were rotten and some had fallen out and down on the streets. Cars were rusty, and the asphalt had cracks everywhere.

A low growling made Simon freeze, to try to find the direction of the noise with his ears. A chill went up his spine as he realized that the sound actually were many sounds, coming from all around him. He was surrounded by whatever made that noise, and whatever it was, Simon did not wish to meet it.

Quickly shifting into a cougar once again, he sprinted down the small road he had found himself on, until he reached a bigger one. The growling had only grown louder, and Simon estimated that whatever had made the sound had doubled in numbers. He increased his speed as he ran down the road, catching sights of creatures moving as he sped past them, but he only raced further, trying to increase his distance to whatever were chasing him. Then the booming voice appeared, causing Simon to miss a step and tumble.

As he got back on his feet, things started to make sense. He was not supposed to be there. He had just been taken instead of the man he had saved, by a mistake, probably. But, if he was not supposed to be there… Then he could not be part of those five that could leave the island… And then he’d be trapped here… He had to find the other participants, at whatever cost.

Suddenly he realized that he had spent too much time thinking. Around him, people were coming onto the streets, filling it with what Simon supposed would be the “unpleasant creatures” the voice talked about. And what an unpleasant sight they were! Rotten meat exposed under the limp and ragged green skin, eyes which were yellow or red, or not present at all, and here and there, bones sticking out with jagged edges, clearly broken at some point. Zombies, living dead. Simon turned on the spot and ran once more down the road with even more eagerly than before.

But as he passed a crossing road, he noticed a woman, clearly a woman, kicking in an already broken window in one of the buildings. He turned quickly and ran back to the crossing and just saw the lady enter. He thought about it for a second, before he ran up to the building. There were no signs of her as he looked through the window, but he smelled that something alive had entered the building.

A low growling came from behind, and Simon turned around. Two zombies had appeared from one of the houses on the other side of the street. Simon growled as he changed into a white tiger, and attacked. The first zombie never really caught up with the situation, and was an easy victim for Simon as he jumped on it, smacking it hard onto the concrete floor, before ripping its head clean off by ripping its neck open.

The second zombie realized enough to actually do something before Simon charged at him. It put its hands in front of him, so that when Simon attacked, he could only bite the arms. The zombie screamed at Simon as their faces were inches away, before Simon ripped its arms off, and then attacking once more, snapping its neck in his powerful jaws. The taste it left were disgusting, but it was not more than he could handle.

He turned around, and noticed the lady looking at him from the second floor, but hid quickly as she noticed he had seen her. Simon leapt through the kicked inn window, and proceeded carefully up the stairs to the second floor. He smelled fear from her, coming from a room beside him, so he entered carefully, and was met by the lady pointing a gun to his head. Simon noticed she was hesitant to fire her weapon, as she would have fired it already had she wanted.

“Relax, I don’t mean you harm, lady,” Simon spoke.

“Ignore him.” The Asian women said with a slightly accented English, “We can work together,” She said with a soft smile, “I couldn’t leave a kid like you here alone anyway, not with those things running around,”

“I’m not a kid,”

“’Course,” She said with a light smile, “In either case we should get going,” Stepping into the illumination of the street light the still nameless women looked about the street, “We’re in luck, a market district. We might be able to find some food,” Judging from the signs that hung low on the tall buildings Devin could see she was correct. The boarded up windows, and locked doors looked eerie, but it was clear from the words “Market” hanging across the boarded up window by a single chain-as the other had snapped- that their might be food. “Hey kid where you going?’

The young thief had wandered off as the girl was talking, almost completely ignoring her as he wandered into the small thicket. With a soft sigh the older women took chase to find the boy named Devin bending down over an object his body was obscuring, “Hey Kid, what do you have their,”

“Looks like a spear,” The vagabond’s hand sprung up, clenching tightly against a long wooden javelin, the shadows from the dim moon dancing along the ground as he did, “Let’s go,” Devin said strongly, standing straight. For some reason the young boy thought it was best to be brave, no matter how scared he really was.

“Rrrgh,”

The pair turned swiftly to the dimly lit street, a single beast was staggering slowly down the street, moaning in hunger and agony. Like a big sister the older women took one step in front of the young boy, taking out two of her razor sharp chopsticks as she did. Devin went to scream only to find the women’s soft hand against his mouth, muffling his voice. The nameless stranger was hoping the beast would pass without incident, clearly she was wrong.

With a crash and a splinter of wood the zombie was fell, as a dog busted from the boarded up windows and tore it’s head of with it’s bloody jaws. The beast snarled, and sniffed before turning to the unlikely duo. With a great gnashing of teeth it seemed the beast was already upon them, leaping into the air, it’s massive blood teeth flashing in the moonlight.

No chance to think. No Chance to move. Only reaction. That was the only thing that could be done. With pure luck Devin’s javelin found itself piercing through the skull of the dog-zombie beast, with a great explosion of blood, before it had a chance to sink its molars into his new friend. Whipping the blood off of his face, Devin looked up at the tall women, a proud smile on his face. The women didn’t look happy at the death of the beast, only staring blankly ahead.

Slowly, and with noticeable hesitation the boy looked over to see a group of twenty or so Zombie walking towards them, with even more piling out of the newly broken window. Unlike the other zombies they had seen before, these ones seemed more aware, because all at once the closet ones to them took off in a slow run towards them, some carrying pieces of two-by-four or other makeshift weapons.

The ghastly green, and decaying figures moved forward at a decent speed for the undead, their sharp rotting teeth as clear as their where in the hell hound of a few moments ago. The Asian girl removed her shops sticks swiftly, letting her long black hair fall down, and threw them forward in a sweeping motion. Like bowling, the pins fell over in order as the first row was taken out, some stumbling forward their bodies still moving and crashing and breaking apart as they hit the ground.

No time to think. Even more came forward, the one heading the pack was lacking one eye which looked like it had been bitten off, but made up for it with the machete he swung widely as he charged forward. No time to think, the duo turned tail and fled into the city park, in a desperate attempt to find shelter in the dying trees, and thin paths. Devin so scared; he even left his newfound weapon lying in the corpse of that hellhound.

Ooc: I'm thinking this is gonna end with us killing the crazed maniac who brought everyone here... Puckee said I could still join.

~~The Dome~~

Sonlen continued his search for the Dark Wing of the Dome, wondering how many more dangers he would have to face to find it; he had already fought a minotaur, one that breathed fire.

"Sonlen?" said Kitar, interrupting Sonlen from his thoughts.

"Hmm? What?" replied Sonlen.

"Nothing... It's just... something's not right, be careful..." said Kitar, unsheathing his oaken sword; the Elf followed suit, stringing his bow.

The two friends cautiously walked onward, jumping at the slightest sound; they both felt something wrong in the air.

They had been walking for about fifteen minutes when a hole suddenly formed under Sonlen. "Aagh!" exclaimed the Swordsarcher.

""Sonlen!" said the Tree Spirit, startled.

~~~??????~~~

Sonlen woke later in a place reminiscent of New York City, only, there seemed to be no one here, and there was a dead smell in the air. There's danger here... Wherever I am... thought the Elf.

Sonlen suddenly heard a moaning; he raised his bow immediately and pointed it in the direction of the sound. A figure emerged from the darkness, a walking corpse, chunks 0f rotten flesh falling from its body. Not again... thought Sonlen, remembering his search for Bronn, At least I know how to kill them now... Sonlen released his arrow with precise aim, striking the zombie between the eyes. The corpse fell to the ground, once again dead.

"Well, you certainly know how to play!" came a voice from every direction, "you'll find a couple hundred-thousand more of my pets on this island. I don't feel like explaining the rules again, but I will warn you, don't try to escape through the water..."

What? Play? Is this some kind of twisted game? "Who are you?" demaded Sonlen, but the voice said nothing, all that came to the Elf's ears was a cackle. "Damn, I'll have to get out of here somehow, and I'm thinking the way to is to kill everything..."

Sonlen saw a horde of undead converging on two figures, one rather tall, the other small, most likely a child. Sonlen didn't take time to think about it, he charged straight into the horde of zombies and started hacking away.

The door to the building she approached was barricaded shut. Likely, there were several heavy items of furniture piled behind it, preventing it from being opened. The large window had been broken and then covered over with boards of plywood. The wood was long rotted, and a few good kicks knocked down one of the larger boards. She climbed through the opening, and found herself in a dark room. She reached into her pocket and found her tiny Maglite flashlight. She turned it on, and examined the building.

Indeed, the door had been barricaded shut, with a large wooden shelf. Two skeletons were laying on the floor, wearing rotting clothes and both having smashed skulls. One of them was holding a small submachine gun, and shell casings from it lined the ground. Jennifer couldn't find any unused bullets, and figured it wasn't worth carrying around an empty gun, so she left it there. The other skeleton was wielding the lower half of a broken baseball bat. The other half was nowhere to be found. The building was a small convenience store, Jennifer noted, and there were several wooden shelves that used to hold food. Most of them had been knocked over, one of them was completely torn to splinters, and another one was holding the door shut. Jennifer examined the shelves, and the littered floor, searching for anything useful. All she found was a couple cans of fruit cocktail, which she picked up.

In the back of the room, she noticed a door, hanging loosely on its hinges. Beyond it she found a staircase, and she ascended it. The stairs led to an area with a couple trashed bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen; apparently the living quarters of whoever used to own the store below. The kitchen was raided of all its food, and what was left had been picked apart by the cockroaches and rats. No water would come from the sink's tap. She made her way into a bedroom, which had been ripped to shreds. A window overlooked the street she had just been on, and she noticed an interesting scene outside. What appeared to be a white tiger was tearing apart a couple of zombies. The tiger turned around, and Jennifer quickly hid from the window, a bit too late probably.

She could hear the tiger enter the building below, and it began to make its way up the stairs. Jennifer stood a few feet from the bedroom's doorway. She dropped the cans of fruit cocktail on the bed, and held her revolver in both hands, pointing it towards the door. The tiger entered the room, and she aimed at its head, ready to fire her last bullet if she had too. Oddly enough, however, the tiger spoke to her.

“Relax, I don’t mean you harm, lady,” the tiger said.

"You...speak?" Jennifer asked, keeping her weapon up and ready.

Suddenly she heard a noise outside. Trusting the tiger for the moment, she carefully turned to look out the window. Outside, an entire horde of the undead creatures was beginning to gather. It would only be a matter of time before they climbed through the window Jennifer had opened up. With only one bullet, she'd never fight off a horde. She turned back to the tiger, and started to formulate a plan.

OOC: Repost time! Check the sig for the profile.

IC:

The door of the tavern exploded open, broken into three wooden shards. The door had been shut to quarantine the zombies, but once they discovered the windows that Charles had failed to take into account, it became clear that the tavern would only become a tomb if he stayed there. His ankle ached from the massive kick that brought down the door, but it did not slow him. He slammed shoulder-first into a zombie, he continued to stride forward; as the beast fell, it grappled his leg wearily, unable to pull it’s teeth to his flesh for lack of the strength. Charles continued to run quickly, dragging it on into the next few. There was a fairly sparce group huddled out of the door, and he refused to stop until he was clear of them.

The knuckles of his right hand were white from being curled around the Kar 98k bolt-action rifle. But when he became too mired in zombies to continue, he knew he would have to fight. With a shoulder, he shoved the butt of his rifle forward, smashing the face of one zombie, and knocking him into a few others. It was just enough of a beat-back to allow him a real swing. In one horizontal jab, he brought the rifle butt down and crushed the head of the nearest undead, slumping it to the road. The next was immediately upon him, but was stopped by the barrel of the weapon, which blasted a round clean through its chest.. To his dismay, the zombie continued to advance despite the wound.

Noting this, Charles reverted to the certain way. He drew back the firearm and slammed the stock forward, quickly sending an lethal blow to the zombie's skull. It did not quite make it all the way through, but the head was more than half-concaved. The brain was crushed, which was the general idea. It collapsed, and behind it Charles saw a brief way out. As he dashed for it, zombies already converged on where he stood. It was like squeezing through a small alleyway.

He narrowly made it, just before a zombie lashed out and snagged his suit coat, ripping it. He cursed the game master that had brought him here. The timing was horrible, having caught him while “setting up shop” for a deal with the Amorettis . The man was polite enough to allow him to keep his rifle, though-- it was a gesture that made him wonder how fair of a game this sick little episode would be. Still, since his position as a make-shift sniper for his gang was only temporary, he only had as much ammo as his pockets could carry. It was not much. For a moment, he wondered how his boys were doing back where they were. If the deal went south, they would have no support. They probably would not even know until it was too late.

He sprinted until he was clear of the group, and stopped to reflect on the situation. He was armed, but not armed enough, and only had a limited amount of ammunition. He had no food or water, and no idea of the geography of the area. If this game was as serious as it seemed, Charles felt very uncomfortable with his circumstances. His thoughts hushed, however, when he heard more gurgling from down the street. It appeared that a fight would be awaiting him-- perhaps even following him-- wherever he went in this city.

Charles had seen some strange things. In Chicago, his doubt in the paranormal had been laid to rest when he had to put a vampire down using a silver bullet. That was just the first thing, though-- there were plenty others in other places. He once had to kill a man who used a sword and telekinetic powers. He once met a man who claimed he was chasing a ghost through the threads of time, that he was nine hundred some-odd years old. On a warm summer day, he once saw what he believes to be a space ship take off. He knew about zombies, and although he had never faced them, he failed to be surprised when they appeared on his list of things to kill.

"Least I know they don't appreciate fashion," he grumbled, cranking a bullet into his rifle, and cocking the bolt. "Rip a pinstripte suit. Bastard."

He sighed and turned toward the city. Glancing down the streets, he saw he had moved toward the outskirts of the strange place. To his right, he could just barely see a shoreline, and the beginning of the water on the moonlit horizon. A small wooded area was nearby on his right side as well, probably a forest preserve or some such thing. He looked back to the dark buildings of the city, which reminded him of his home in good ol' Chi-town. At the rememberance, he sighed, and felt a subtle feeling of helplessness. What was he supposed to do?

That freak said it was a game. Isn't the point of a game to win? Get the highest score, something like that? He looked to his rifle, hoisted on his shoulder, and then back to the city. So that's it, then? Just scramble through the city, killing shufflers for invisible points? Seemed like the best idea for now, other than just trying to survive. But that was boring. As Charles saw it, the best way to fail is to try to hard. Surviving would come naturally, and in the meantime, he would kill anything that tried to say otherwise.

Then he remembered the words specifically. There were others on this island, somewhere. A smile curved his lips. He already had two kills. Maybe he could win the game after--

He heard a shot. His attention jerked toward the city so hard that his fedora almost slipped from his head. Another shot. Then another, followed by two more. Small arms fire, smaller calibre. Nothing like his rifle. Semiautomatic-- too fast for bolt, to slow for gas. Had to be a pistol. So someone else was in there? Some else, shooting away? Maybe he had five kills now. Five bullets, five brain salads. It took the edge off his smile to think of losing. Killing the others was always an option. But then, why have a battle on two fronts when he could just become stronger by making friends with them? He decided, then and there, that he would not fire on a living person unless he felt threatened enough. They were, tentatively speaking, friends.

Then he heard a yelp. It was coming from behind him, in the woods. The woods were closer-- he decided to start there. He turned quickly, rebuttoning his suit coat with one hand. The zombie that had ripped it had pulled it open, but thankfully the buttons were still there. He buttoned up the black suit with white pinstripes, concealing the red tie and the black shirt. Then, as he neared the trees, he poised his rifle in aiming position.

He moved past trees, occasionally hearing moans and groans, but ignoring it. He was interested in investigating that yelp. Someone was back here, and it was either someone young or a woman. The voice was too brief to tell from. Regardless, wherever they were, there were apparently zombies there too, so he was ready for a fight.

Footsteps. Not just footsteps, but someone running, really booking through the forest. Had to be human, not a shuffler like the rest. "Hey!" he whispered subtly. "Hey! C'mere!" The general direction of the running was obvious, but it was too dark to see anyone through the trees. Knowing he couldn't be seen well either, he pointed his rifle in that direction, just in case. "Hey, human!" It was quiet enough in the night for his whisper to carry through the woods to whomever this runner was. But how would the human respond? That was what really mattered.

OOC: Tag, Quark. :3

Ooc: How old is Charles? His date of birth doesn't really help much with that fact. x3

Oh, and about the island. I've heard it described multiple ways so far: It has a forest, it has a sort of suburban area, and it also has skyscrapers... ? Maybe I'm just reading this wrong. xP

Bic:

Haze slowed her pace as several odd looking buildings came into view. Tall, wooden structures, finely crafted. Small fences lined dirt roads, other foreign looking objects littering the road.

A crack like thunder rattled the night sky. Possibly a tree falling, but it had the sound of an explosion. It very well could have been caused by another one of the "contestants" brought to the island. If that were the case, she should probably seek them out. While she had yet to run into any more of the creatures, she was bound to find some more soon and an ally would be useful. She would need to find a sword as well, but until then her nails and fists would do.

A soft sound caught her attention. It almost sounded like a voice. She came to a complete stop, waiting for it to speak again. She tuned her ears into her surroundings.

"Hey, human!" The distinct words sounded, only audible as a whisper. At first she thought it was just the wind, but the voice she was hearing was, in fact, real. Another one of the poor people stranded her, no doubt. And now, she could see him, emerging from the brush.

Haze approached cautiously, her guard up as always. She didn't say anything at first, a little weary after everything that had happened over the course of the past few minutes, but she felt a little safer in the presence of another. This man was certainly not one of the monsters, but he was still a man she didn't trust. His intentions could have been anything; it was best she was prepared for the worse.

"What do you want?" She asked, cautious and prepared for a sudden attack if one came from the stranger. He looked to be nearly six feet tall, dark clothes adorning his body. On his head, atop a patch of brown hair, sat a style of hat she'd never seen before. He dressed rather oddly, in her opinion, but had a certain slick quality about him. She wasn't much for the noble types, but by the look of his attire she could assume he was rich. Admittedly attractive, but she had no interest in men.

OOC: Heh, I guess I forgot to name the “current date” in the profile. Anyway, the year is supposed to be 1944, which would make him 23 years old. *adds to the profile*

And also, I kinda picture the island in portions. On part of it would be like a forest preserve, like the area we’re in. Then there’s the majority of the city, in 1930ish style, and then in the busier areas, there’s skyscrapers like there would have been in 1930s Chicago or New York. That’s how I’m imagining it, anyways. :3

IC:

A moment went by with no reply. Charles swallowed, his finger carefully moving onto the trigger. She may have been zeroing in on him, ready to strike. She may have used his voice to find, not an ally, but competition. He knew all about how to handle competition-- the gangs of Chicago had taught him that much. It was all he could do, both for his benefit and the benefit of the others on this island, to consider them something more substantial than competition.

“What do you want?” retorted the woman. Unsure if she could see him or not, he lowered the rifle to his hip, still pointed into the darkness. It was to show her, if she saw him, that he meant her no trouble.

With a chuckle, he replied, “Well a kinder greeting would be nice, but I’ll settle for an agreement.” He was still whispering, and he approached cautiously, one gradual step at a time, to ensure she -- and only she-- could hear him. “You don’t try to kill me, I don’t try to kill you. It’s win-win. The way I see it, we stay together, we stay quiet, maybe we stay alive.”

He realized it was a significant thing to ask of a complete stranger, regardless one he could not even see at the edge of the too-dimly-lit woods. But it was just as much a trial for him, and he hoped she saw things the same way. In the situation with which he was faced, he saw it as the smartest alternative to going solo, or trying to escape the island.

”Yes, I do. But please don’t become perplexed by that,” Simon answered to the lady’s surprised question. “I am, as you probably are too, trapped on this island. But unlike you, I don’t think I should have been here in the first place.”

The lady turned around, after looking out the window. She looked concerned, as if she had seen something wrong outside. Simon put his head sideways and looked at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“More undead,” she merely muttered and looked at her weapon. “I got only one bullet left, which is not nearly enough to hold them off with. We need to figure a way to get away from here, quickly.”

Simon padded to the window and put his paws on the frame to look out. The whole street was starting to fill up with the same kind of green, ugly and rotten humans, which converged on their position. There was no way he could take on all those, not even with the help of the lady. An escape was their only question. But how could they get away? He could easy enough escape alone, but that would leave her alone to fight the horde, which was not a nice thing to do at all. It was his backup plan, to shift back to ferret and escape on the rooftops…

The rooftops… That could work! He dropped down and turned around. The woman was breaking some wooden boards to block the stairs to give them some more time, but Simon could already smell the stench of rotten meat enter the stairs as the zombies climbed through the broken window.

“The rooftops!” Simon yelled at the lady from another room. He had found a balcony with a fire stair from which they could climb onto the rooftops.

“What? More undead?” she said as she hastily arrived.

“No, we can escape on the rooftops. And we’ll better hurry.”

Noises from the stairs made them aware that the zombies had reached the barricade.

OoC: Simon won't change, as he finds the situation better if others does not know he can shift.

Haze felt she really had no other choice. She would have to join forces with this man, at least for now, if she wanted to survive the masses of monsters that littered the island. He didn't necessarily look like the most trustworthy person in the world, but he had a weapon, something she didn't have, which would most certainly come in handy. Even though she would accept the support, she would still keep her guard up. Always, her guard had to be up.

"Alright," she hesitantly replied, "we stick together for now. I've already killed one of those creatures, but I don't think fighting large amounts will be any easier. The more swords the better."

The man nodded. "Makes sense."

"And speaking of swords, do you have a weapon I could use? When I woke up here my blade was missing."

The city park was not large by any stretch of imagination, almost before the pair had a chance to escape the zombie hoard on the street behind them they where faced with a similar threat in front of them. The older women swore loudly, and pulled the kid to turn around, only to find the first had already gotten to them. The groups converged and a circle was forming around the unlikely and unlucky duo. Devin tried to charge forward, but was caught by the cuff of his shirt by the older women, who motioned for him to stand behind her as they faced the side that was moving closer.

At that moment the sun peaked over the edge of the water they where facing, a blinding light spread over the land like a beautiful and deadly fire. The boy closed his eyes, partly because of the light, and partly out of the terror that washed over him as the zombie’s charged forward.

Shink. Thud.

The boy opened his eye’s to see a re-dead zombie at his feet, and arrow struck from the back of it’s skull and protruding slightly through the fore head, with a trickle of blood. Looking up Devin saw the elf, looking like a flickering shadow from a candles flame as the light behind him hid his features into blackness and the wind in front of him blowing his clothes and hair erratically.

“Run,” The elven shadow said through the hole in the circle of beasts which he created, “Comeon,” he said motioning to the pair. Devin looked up at his friend who smiled lightly, grabbing the arrow from the back of the zombie’s head and pointing it forward, the meaning being quite clear.

The woman who was still nameless went first, using the arrow to stab the zombies that got to close to her and her companion. They reached the shadow, seeing his features for the first time but not caring. The Elf pointed to a group of almost zombie free shacks on the docks at the waters edge, directly to their left. The three bolted off across towards the wooden docks, the sun rising at their right.

Jennifer climbed out onto the fire escape, taking the stairs up to the rooftops. Before she'd left the other bedroom, she'd made sure to grab the two cans of fruit cocktail. She didn't know how long it would be before they found any food besides these two cans, so their lives could depend on it. Looking at the tiger, though, both the cans together were probably less than a bite.

The stairs were old and rusted, and she stepped carefully. The tiger remained inside the room until she was all the way on the roof; no sense putting more weight than neccessary on the weak staircase. By the time she made it to the roof of the building, the tiger had to kill a couple of zombies who had made their way past the makeshift barricade Jennifer had built and into the abandoned bedroom. The tiger then quickly made his way out the window, and onto the fire escape.

The rusted metal staircase shook and shuddered as the tiger climbed it, and he made his way very quickly. Just before reaching the top, the entire fire escape came loose, its bolts coming loose or breaking free from the brick wall. The white tiger took a great leap into the air, and landed safely on the roof. Down below, the fire escape clattered into a heap in the street, crushing a couple of the undead fiends. Jennifer noted that it was actually to their luck, rather than misfortune, that the fire escape had fallen. It would prevent the zombies from using it to follow them up.

Frost looked out over the eastern sky, noticing that it was beginning to lighten as the Sun started to rise. The roof of the building was slightly illuminated by the lightening sky, and Jennifer examined it. For the most part, it was entirely empty, but in one corner she noticed something. She walked over to it and found a headless skeleton lying on the ground. Nearby, she found the skeleton's skull...skewered on the long thin blade of a rapier. Jennifer had no idea what had become of the rapier's owner, and she didn't care to find out. She reached down and picked up the sword by the hilt, flinging the skull off of it once it was in her hands. Jennifer had a little bit of minor fencing skills, and it would probably be enough to keep her safe if she encountered a small group of zombies. Feeling much better with the blade in her possession, she holstered the one-shot revolver. She would keep that final shot in case of emergency, or in case she found more bullets.

Suddenly, she heard a groan. She glanced back at the tiger, who was on the other side of the roof, looking over the city streets at the horde below. The groan hadn't come from him. Jennifer heard it again, and turned in the direction it had come from. All she saw was a tall brick chimney, but she knew what must be hiding behind it. She carefully went around to the other side, and indeed, there was a zombie. Hanging by a loose leather belt on the decaying body's waist was a sword hilt. This creature was the previous owner of the sword. A random thought occurred to Jennifer as she saw the creature; if all the dead bodies had decomposed to skeletons by this time, why hadn't the clearly decaying undead? Something must be able to sustain them and either cease or slow down the rotting process. Human brains, probably.

The zombie charged her, but she quickly thrust the blade into his head. The blade met little resistence and flew right through the creature's soft skull and rotten brain. She removed the blade and the body dropped to the floor, tensing up and twitching once before going limp. The tiger turned around at the commotion. "You alright?" it asked.

"Yeah, just fine. Have me a new weapon too," Jennifer said, brandishing the amazingly still sharp rapier. Light from the newly risen Sun glittered off the shiny blade. For half a moment she considered salvaging the sword hilt as well, but she didn't feel like wearing something that had just been on a corpse. Instead, she just decided to carry the sword in her hand. Were her gun holster empty, she could stab the blade through the bottom of it and the blade would stay there by its hilt, but she decided that having the revolver was more beneficial than having a free hand.

"So, what now?" Frost asked. "Oh and...who are you?"

He said nothing about it, but it seemed peculiar that she mentioned a sword as being her primary weapon. The idea of some of the contestants being from different times amused him. It probably was not the strangest thing he had ever come across. Although battling zombies in an early 20th century city with a lady swordsman and who knows who else... That actually was quite strange.

Still, he smiled when she asked for a weapon. Finally, he lowered his rifle and gripped it with his left hand, reaching into his suit with his right. He pulled free a Colt .45 handgun, flipped it in his hand to grip it by the barrel, and offered it to her. The moonlight attempted to shimmer off the dark steel of the gray firearm, but failed. The gun was darkened for the same reason assassins once painted their blades: to keep light from reflecting from it, making them easy to spot.

"I assume you know how to use a pistol? If not, I've got a switchblade. If you want to take on a zombie with that, be my guest-- I sure as hell ain't."

The firearm had a clip with a round chambered, and Charles had two more clips in his lepel pocket. He would offer her one, if she took the weapon, and hold on to the other. If she needed it, or if she gave up the weapon (either in favor of a better one or in her own death), it would come into play. Until then, however, he would not allude that he had more ammunition; perhaps it would discourage the flippant use of the ammunition she already had.

A zombie. She hadn't quite draw the connection until he mentioned it, but zombie described the creatures perfectly: The reanimated dead.

Haze took the strange device carefully, looking it over to try and figure out its function. What was it? Surely this wasn't a weapon, it didn't look like anything she'd ever seen before. It was metal and heavy, probably some sort of... really small club, maybe meant for throwing. The blade the man had mentioned sounded much more appealing. "I'll take the switchblade." She said, handing the clumsy metal contraption back to the stranger.

The man made gave her a strange look as he retrieved his weapon. "Suit yourself." He reached back into his jacket and pulled out a small case, gently tossing it to her.

Her right hand grasped the small handle. She studied it for a few seconds before figuring out its purpose. With a jerk of her wrist, she produced the four inch blade. Quite the clever contraption. She'd seen others similar to it, but none quite so perfected. It wasn't what she was expecting, but she'd fought with small knives like these before. It appeared to be constructed quite well. It would hold up.

She flourished the blade skillfully, twirling the knife between her fingers to get the feel of the weapon. She gripped the dagger tightly in her fist, relieved she finally had some steel in hand. "Excellent. Let's hunt some ghoul."

Charles had his hand extended as she looked over the pistol. He could see the look of confusion in her eyes. When she handed it back, he eagerly tucked it back into his suit coat, giving a sigh of relief. He was just glad she hadn't accidently shot him.

"Suit yourself," he said, as he tossed her the closed knife. When she played with the blade a bit, he was glad to see she had some dexterous fortitude. It probably reflected her agility and her skill with blades, so he began to wonder who she was, and from where-- or when-- she came.

He nodded to her remark, turning toward the city proper. The sound of loud growls and moans could be heard in the distance. "Sounds like a party down there. Wouldn't want to miss it." As he started in that direction, resting the rifle on his shoulder, he looked over to her and said, "The name's Charles, by the way."

Ah, the introduction. Charles had learned, over the years, that the introduction was truly the most profound basis for a first impression. When someone introduced themself, they often represented, intentionally or not, what they thought of their own personality. It was a common foreword of how they carried themself. And so, when Charles introduced himself, hoping to probe her into an introduction of her own, it was his first attempt to get to know her, to take an interest in her personality. Knowing how she thought could be a valuable tool, and if her introduction could provide even a small glimpse into her mind, it would be helpful.

Ooc: I know I said I'd post last night, but dad made me go to bed practically immediately after I got out of the shower.

Bic: Sonlen ran through the horde of zombies, unsheathing his sword, his bow wouldn't be useful at this close of range.

The trio sprinted towards the shacks, desperate for shelter from the pack of undead, mowing down all the zombies in their path.

When they finally reached their destination, Sonlen had an idea, "Let's see how these zombies react to fire..." With that, the Elf concentrated, willing the magic to come before the horde of undead reached them. Suddenly it did, bright blue flames leapt up from the ground, forming a circle five feet high around the trio and their temporary shelter.

"Hopefully they're not very smart, I know zombies aren't affected by fire, but they might be too scared to try to get through. The flames should last about an hour, at the most..." The Swordsarcher turned and walked into the shack behind him, the boy and woman following. Once they were inside, Sonlen said, "What is this place? I fell through a hole in the Dome and found myself here. Some mad voice from the sky said something about this being a game, do either of you have any idea what's going on here?" The Elf glanced back, checking to make sure the flames were still standing tall.

Ooc: Sonlen's magic isn't very strong. That fire is about the max of his powers, and he doesn't use magic very often, it takes too long, and consumes too much energy.

The two made their way to the city, hopefully to find some proper shelter. She just wanted to survive this thing. How she was picked to be here to begin with was strange, but all she wanted to do was to get back to her search. She couldn't die tonight, and somehow she knew she wouldn't. Then again, she hadn't felt true fear yet. This day had only just begun and she'd only faced one of those beasts.

"The name's Charles, by the way." The man said politely, shouldering one of those club-like weapons of his.

"Call me Haze." She said simply, not so much as glancing in his direction. She was too busy focused on the road and the land surrounding them to care much for introductions. She could smell those creatures, they were nearby. She couldn't let her guard down for even a second. All they needed each others' names for anyway was just to know what to call out for when one of them was dying. Odds were, after this was all over, she would never see this man again.