Little Kitsune

Garden of Shadow (Horror, Human Mutations, and Monsters)

Borg is the first person to add his flavor to the world, in a small way. Added "heavy vehicles" to the sector description to match what he said in the IC.

The Army boys at JFK (Sector Q13) now have big vehicles with big guns. I guess they're going to have an easier time of things now, I hope they say thank you Borg. :)

Garden of Shadow (Horror, Human Mutations, and Monsters)

Disclaimer: I was tired and did not proof read.

Garden of Shadow (Horror, Human Mutations, and Monsters)

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A cold, salty breeze howls over the breaking waves of the Atlantic Ocean. The night was wearing thin, and the early gray light of dawn would be approaching soon, but not on this night. No, this night was to last, a perpetual darkness heralded by the shrill notes of the wind. For in its wake tumbled tumultuous thunderheads, their colors so dark and muted as if to appear the manifestation of the night itself. High, over the bay they came, silently stampeding across the sky. It cast it’s great, monstrous shadow of the city of New Windsor, its underbelly highlighted only by the dim glow of light and flame. It crackled out a thunderous roar, signaling the denizens of its arrival. A hollow, window shaking boom echoed through the city of glass and steel, through flesh and blood, and across the chaos that was still unfolding.

The gale plummeted downwards, twisting low through the buildings and whipping the conflagrations into a new frenzy. It swept its icy tendrils across the backs of those below, slithering between the press of bodies struggling for dominance. Past a failing barricade it went, the illuminating light of the street lamps washing pale faces sweating with desperation as the men in women in their uniforms fought a losing battle for their lives. Through the hysteria of sprinting, shrieking bodies, bloodied and batter from their war. They ran, head down against the wind, tumbling and crashing over one another like a vicious wave of fangs and claws, eager to get at the weaker life forms hiding behind their paltry barricades.

Between buildings and through shattered windows it raced, sending shivers down the spines of those in hiding. A mother cradling a small, weeping child, neither finding the comfort of sleep this night. Next to them a worn face, covered in soot choked back quiet sobs, torn between his sorrow and his fear of being too loud. A hundred faces, all gathered, all twisted with agony, ache, or defeat, gathered by a single purpose—To Hide. A man moaned in a drug induced sleep, one that the severe gashes on his back would prevent him from ever waking from. His worrisome girlfriend dabbed at her tears, the small flame of hope not yet extinguished in her. A grandfather gives up his meal to a young child, but his haggard face shows no optimism for the younger generation.

Through hallways and corridors it drifted, gathering itself once more outside before continuing its journey. It passed close to a blaze, stroking it with a tender caress and departing with a whirl of smoke and ash. From the other side of the crackling glow shadows prowled, some hunting like animals, others crouched over a meal. Some stood stock still, staring blankly at nothing in particular, waiting for something. A larger beast prowls through the narrow hall, its massive bulk scraping and tearing away at the walls. It let loose a growl, louder and more beastial than any creature known to man, and the wind gathered up the sounds and carried them off into the night.

As the wind flows, so too does the passage of time. All things are born, and all things die. History becomes legend, and legend becomes myth. Stories become tales, and build into epics. But all things, all things will turn to dust. It is the will of man to fight this cycle. And so, as the wind flows, so too does man struggle to shatter the bonds of time, and rewrite the threads of destiny. But as threads are revealed to the light, so too, do they become bathed in shadow. All things are achievable, and so too, are all costs.

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Natalie sat perched upon a narrow ledge spanning the length of a wide, office window, her back set up against the wall. The potted plants that had once inhabited this space laid shattered on the floor, their earthy guts spread across the thin, blue carpet. She sat with one elbow braced against a propped up knee, her chin in her hand and her restless gaze staring down into the depths of the city below her. There was still plenty of light to see by, somehow, even though all of the smaller lights, like the office lights for instance, didn’t work. The streetlamps and other municipal lights down below were still going strong, at least there was that.

Her gaze swept out across the small cubicle space, pointedly ignoring the slick, black coating running the length of her forearms. Her eyes settled on the sleeping form of Makiah, who had collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Nat got up to place her black leather jacket over her, before giving a small, hysteric laugh as she studied the glowing cracks on Kia’s arms and around her eyes. A sad half-smile played at her lips, Nat doubted her sister would ever get cold again.

She slumped back down, fishing in the pocket of her jeans for a mostly crumpled cardboard package and placing an equally rumpled cigarette between her lips. The tiny glow of the lighter flame revealed the glossy blackness of her fingers, which caused Nat to sneer as she took in a slow drag. A soft vibration traveled through the building as she exhaled, her attention once more turned back to the outside world.

A store down below was on fire, the remains of its windows glittered from their scattered places in the street. Nat was only a few stories up, she figured less than ten as there hadn’t exactly been time to count, but she could make out the details below. Something strange was happening to her, she felt all-around sharper, as she watched the hordes of shadowy bodies below. Her eyes tracking the movements with ease, even if she couldn’t quite make out much detail. A squadron of, well, some sort of military battalion probably, was backpedaling down the street whilst unleashing an onslaught of death at the horde of those .. those things. There was a bright muzzle flash as what Nat figured was some sort of tank fired again, it’s projectile erupting in the street and scattering asphalt, dirt, and bodies through the air.

Her gaze was fixed on the scene below, one part abject horror, and the other morbid curiosity. The infected people were too fast, too relentless in their pursuit. Nat knew first hand they did not feel pain, or emotion, and they definitely did not tire. The hellish once-people plowed into the attacking group, and without any sort of grace they broke and ran: Just in time to witness more of their enemies flowing around the corners behind them like a crashing tide, trampling each other to get the defenders. Every sort of defense Nat had witnessed had been like this. ”There are just so fucking many of them,” she thought, ”And not enough of us.. Poor bastards.”.

That’s why they had gone up here. Following the silent flow of terrified people, before eventually securing themselves a cubicle. The once-people were attracted by noise, that much was obvious. Although Nat thought they couldn’t see so well, but she wasn’t about to test that theory. She could definitely be wrong. Spending the better part of a day running through hell itself didn’t leave a whole lot of time for detail. Nat looked down, realizing she had let her cigarette burn idly away, lost in her thoughts. A politely quiet sound came from behind Nat, somebody clearing their throat and obviously trying not to wake the other occupant.

Nat turned to look at them, or rather him, but he reeled back with wide eyes and his arms up. ”Problem Bro?” She asked, standing and doing her best to look imposing through the dimness.

“N-nah,” He stammered, Nat could tell he was around her age by the way he spoke, “Jus wonderin’ if you could spare a stoge man.”

Nat chuckled, waving him in and motioning towards her impromptu seating area, ”You looked like I was about to shank you or something,”

The guy flashed a grin, taking the offered cigarette as Nat took another for herself, one she fully intended to smoke this time. “Well, with the way you whipped your head around, I mean, it just didn’t seem none too friendly, ya know?” Nat studied him for a moment, whipped?, before a frown tugged down the corners of her mouth. ”Did I…?” she thought, but let it trail off instead, unwilling to pursue the implications further. The guy motioned towards Makiah, and the dull glow around her.

“She’s got it too ‘eh?” He asked with a shrug, producing his own lighter. For a brief moment Nat caught a good look at him; white collar shirt, nice looking charcoal pants with suspenders, glasses, and a knit, purple beret—A regular hipster.

”Got what?” Nat questioned suspiciously. If he tried anything..

“Dunno man, Whatever it is it ain’t like whatever’s out there, ya’ know? Ya’ll right by me, long as you don’t try nothin’ huh?”

”Right..” Nat murmured, casting a worried look at Makiah. It bothered her, not knowing whatever the fuck it was the was happening to her, to them.

“Sides’..” He said, following Nat’s gaze as he took a drag, “ ‘sa real pretty glow, don’tcha think?”

”I guess you’re right,” Nat said with a soft chuckle. Things were insane, but her frayed nerves were finally getting a rest. Having a rather normal conversation wasn’t so bad either, even if he was a smelly hipster—The thought made her smile. They sat in silence for a time, watching a world that seemed far away and distant, but also uncomfortably close, until the wind shifted and obscured their view with a column of smoke.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the silence, “You ain’t a bad gal, I appreciate the smoke. I figure this new world, heh, if we survive it will run like them movies and games do right? Off of trade and what not so here’s a tip, check the wifi networks on your phone and hook into the Net, it’s mad rad man.”

”The Net?” Nat asked, already reaching for her phone.

“Just check it out, best we got since the news went down.”

He gave a small wave, leaving the space and heading off towards.. Somewhere. Nat grimaced, realizing that no amount of holding the button to her phone was going to bring it back to life. She got up quietly, crouching over Makiah, who usually had a charge in her bag. Nat slipped the strap off of her shoulder, wrangling the scarf away from it and flinching as her fingers brushed across Kia’s hot skin. Her first instinct was to jump to the conclusion that Kiah had a Fever, but she remembered quicker this time, though it didn’t make her feel any better.

Nat took her place once more, sliding the prongs into the wall and awaiting the charging screen to show. And then she remembered another thing, domestic power was down. She cursed softly, moving once more and using every stealthy skill she’d picked up from old ninja movies to slip her sister’s phone from her pocket. [67%].

”Fucking long life bullshit,” she murmured, wincing at the bright glow stabbing her eyes as she drew the unlock pattern. Nat couldn’t help but smile back at the face of her sister in the background, dressed all the world like a hippie, complete with the crown of flowers and peace-sign made with her hand. She did as the guy instructed, never once finding it weird that neither of them had introduced themselves.

It didn’t take long to connect to a network under the name of SURVIVOR .net, though she’d never once heard of it before. She pulled open the web browser app on the phone, expecting to search around for some information when the page redirected to a.. Registration screen? Old school forum style, except it wasn’t asking for an e-mail. She signed herself up under the alias of Thrasher69 with a mischievous chuckle, but it worked.

She was redirected once more, and then immediately caught a large headline at the top of a forum page, ”Where’s the sun at?!”, a post created by some dude under the guise of The_Savant. Nat glanced at the clock on the phone, realizing she had totally missed the time display on the lock screen. 9:38a.m, ”What the fuck?” she thought, glancing back out the window. That couldn’t be right.. It still looked like the dead of night out there, at least what she could make out through the haze of smoke. It wasn’t exactly pitch black, more like the kind of dimness that creates obscure pools of shadow, but it should definitely be light out.

She settled back, pulling yet another cig out with a fully peaked interest now. This guy had been up to some sort of business throughout the day, even if most of his posts were a handful of hours old. Another headline grabbed her eye, ”Feral Humans Are Eating Your Neighbors!?. ”Grade B clickbait bro..” she mused, deciding she had a few hours to read whatever this guy was going on about. It just occurred to her then, as she brought the blog post up, this guy was the internet.

”Fuck.. He better post some good memes.”

Garden of Shadow (Horror, Human Mutations, and Monsters) [ADV]

Bump. We're starting to get some real good characters in! Come check it out before it's too late.

Garden of Shadow (Horror, Human Mutations, and Monsters)

Bump. We're starting to get some real good characters in! Come check it out before it's too late.

Garden of Shadow (Horror, Human Mutations, and Monsters)

Makiah and Natalie's Bio's are out (They also swapped positions.)

Next stop, the IC!

Little Kit's Box

Arcturo's haunted, blue eyes stared at the dim screen of his phone, reading the brief message—"Alive." Suddenly, he was a sobbing mess. The emotional trauma of the evening had been too much for him. He stood, spurred into action, but stopped dead in his tracks as the windows behind him shook in their casings. A new sense of dread washed over him, running down his spine. He took another drink, feeling the cold ice press against his lips. He cursed quietly to himself, he had never been a big drinker but tonight he was done with etiquette. He pulled the bottle from his desk, taking a healthy swig before plopping down in his chair. Alive. They were alive, his daughters. That was something, right? But.. what hope could there be for them? He had seen what was happening outside. The cold truth of it was, they were all going to die.

He glanced down at the still open book, at the large pink lettering spellings his second daughter's name—Makiah. He reached out, hesitantly at first, before defeat settled in him. What else was he to do? What else could he do? Good people were being slaughtered in the street, trained men and women with weapons. And what did he have? Nothing but a handgun he'd never had to use, Hell he didn't even know how to use it. Fear clutched his heart as he caught the barest trace of movement from the corner of his eye, a shadow moving in front of his office window. He stared, and stared, but it didn't return. Another swig from the bottle, and he turned the page.

Makiah, screaming at the top of her glee filled lungs, riding on his shoulders. He could almost feel her tiny little legs, almost hear her laughter. Her sister was there too, just a stricken with happiness at seeing the fun her sister was having. Arcturo wiped a tear from his eye, thinking back at what a Daddy's girl Makiah had been. Another picture on the page, the Fourth of July. Makiah was showcased in her little griller's outfit, putting on a grand show of being such a big cook.. well, Daddy's little helper as he had called her. A second picture, capturing Kiah sharing the holiday cheer with their dog by filling his bowl with pink lemonade. The chuckle that resounded from Arcturo however, was dead and lifeless.

The pages were soundless are he carefully perused through them, taking in all the memories he'd collected over the years. The girls had always given him a hard time about being "That Dad." The kind that seemed permanently attached to a camera, or a record—How he wished he had some of those home movies with him now, to forget this insanity. Still, the pictures took him back. Makiah giving her best "Big Girl" face, shouldering a pink backpack on one side and ready for her first day of high school. Distantly, he could hear the way he chuckled at her as she hid her anxiety.

The pages moved faster now. Makiah in choir, standing in long red robes and her mouth agape as she held a shrill note; Makiah all dressed up in a red marching outfit, with one of those ridiculous hats with the fluffy plumes on her head as she huffed away at a saxophone; Makiah winning third place in a state sponsored art contest, she had sculpted a T-Rex. The memories flashed by, Arcturo's hands moved faster, as if he was afraid he wouldn't have time to finish. Makiah and her sister, dressed up for Halloween and both a little more provocatively than he would have liked.

Christmas. Makiah had been so full of life, getting her first car. She'd nearly shattered his ribs with her hugs. He remembered Natalie had gone with him, to help him pick it out. Nobody knew Makiah better than her sister. They shared a bond that he could never match, but his little Ki had loved him. He stopped on a picture of Makiah up on stage, playing Wendy in a play about Peter Pan. His thumb traced over the image, feeling the odd texture of the protective sleeve. Next to that, a picture of them all singing, one of the few his wife had captured. Nat had complimented his voice, saying he sounded like "A wood chipper eating a cat".

This was it.. No more plays, no more games, no more performances or songs, no smiles, no more hugs. No more chances to guide or teach them, to fix what he did wrong. There was no more time. The thud of something slamming into the wall running the length of the corridor outside his door. A low growl, and then suddenly the loud wails of somebody in terror.. somebody dying. Arcturo reached into his drawer, pulling out the pistol and aiming it at the door. He took another swig of whiskey, his head spinning. He remembered to thumb down the safety, his index hanging over the trigger.

Once more he glanced down. Makiah smiled up at him, surrounded by her pretty friends, arms laden with bags. She was a shopper, just like her mother. She'd always been a popular girl, always hanging around with the "in" crowds. Despite the fact that she had made decent grades, she didn't try hard for college. Instead she had argued a rather well put together case about how getting a job early on was better than student debt. Fortunately, she knew how to manage her money well. She had moved herself out, and even helped out Nat by giving her a place to stay after her latest breakup. Makiah was never a floozy, at least not that Arcturo knew about, but she had sense enough to put her job before her love life. He wasn't even sure if she'd ever actually lived with anybody else besides Nat.

Her turned the final page. The last picture had all of them, the whole family, excluding the old dog. Elliora had gotten a new lapdog, some fluffy mongrel he couldn't remember the name of, a pom-pom or something close to that. Makiah had been devastated after Mac Grooger passed away, the first dog which she in her young age had taken the liberty of naming. However, upon meeting the newest addition to their family and being overcome with joy, she'd promptly named him Sergeant Waffles, The Destroyer of Worlds.

His lips moved ever so slightly, uttering the barest traces of sound. For the first time in his life, he was praying, to what ever god was listening as he typed out a reply. The barrel of the gun wavered unsteadily, pressed against the side of his head. His finger sliding smoothly in position over the trigger. This is it, he thought, I'm all out of time. He pressed send for the last time.

Little Kit's Box

An office becomes shrouded in haunting gloom as the glow of evening turns into the veil of night. A haggard face, pale with day old stubble, stares at a thick book that he had drawn from one of the many shelves lining the room. Ice rattles in a stout glass as he tries to sooth his nerves with the foul brew of straight whiskey, there was no time for mixers tonight. A sad smile plays across his face as he leans back in the well kept leather chair, its oiled hinges not letting off a single squeak. Still, that would have paled in comparison to the chaos erupting outside. He glances to his phone, still no response from his wife. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest as gunfire erupts outside. His shaking hand moves across the hard cover of the book, peeling the cover back slowly. As he does, the world outside seems to fade away.

His eyes settle on a picture, simple titled "Natalie". A young girl, dressed in a bright sundress, a daisy in her hair, and smiling back at him over her shoulder. He remembered that day fondly. An outing at a local park, eating ice cream, feeding the ducks, and toting around their new born: Natalie's sister. He glanced through the pictures of the early years. Birthdays, friends, her first bicycle, An array of different photos each invoking a hundred different thoughts of memories. And each one pained him, wrenching and twisting his heart into knots.

The first day of high school. He could still remember kissing his daughter goodbye, and trying to sooth the rather envious youngster in the background of the photo. Makiah had insisted she was old enough for high school too. Arcturo smiled in fond remembrance. More pictures flashed by; Natalie trying out soccer, softball; Natalie driving her first car; Wearing a shiny black dress adorned with sequins at prom; Natalie smiling with her rather uncouth friends.

She had always seemed to find her way into the rougher crowds, as if she just... belonged. Acturo knew she had started smoking early, started experimenting with drugs and getting into trouble. He'd done the same thing at that age, who was he to judge? She didn't come from poverty, she wasn't spoiled, she didn't steal from them and she didn't act like some tweaked out addict. She was a little temperamental, but level headed for the most part. He had always trusted that he'd be there to guide her onto the path of being a successful, functioning adult. He'd told himself the same thing all the times they fought about her particular choices, her shady friends, her sneaking out at night. Even this, made Arcturo smile. She was more rebellious than he had ever been.

It seemed now he'd never get the chance to finish guiding her. The world was falling apart and he couldn't even bring himself to step outside. It was pure madness out there, the only thing that awaited him was death, and surely for his family too. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he choked back a sob, taking another drink from his glass, turning to another page. Natalie's first boyfriend, a punk really. A small laugh echoed from within him, she reminded him so much of himself sometimes—His first girlfriend had been a shock to his parents too. She'd always defended him, said he treated her right, respected her. Arcturo had this inkling that the poor boy found out the hard way not to get on Nat's bad side.

Another page. Natalie on stage, rocking out to.. what was it, bass guitar? She looked so happy, and she was smiling right at him, picking him out of the crowd. That thought alone made his heart flutter quietly. Her "Rocking Out" wasn't really a career, and he had wished she'd at least tried to get into college, but he supported her. He never was one for the heavy, ear splitting kind of music she liked. And he felt so out of place in a crowd of teens all sporting chains and piercings and rebellious hairstyles. But, Nat would always be his little girl and he'd done everything he could to make her happy. Even if that meant he wasn't around enough.

It was only now, sitting in this silent room punctuated by the reverberating echoes of hollow booms, the cacophony of people yelling and screaming, that he regret not spending more time with his family. For not strengthening his relationship with his little Natalie. Ironic really, he'd always thought that stereotype wouldn't apply to him, and yet here he was, sitting in an office alone and missing his family. Still, he'd managed to make it to most of the games and performances, never missed a birthday, that had to count for something. He had been a good Father, right?

The book whispered softly as the pages brushed against each other. Natalie smiling with her sister, hanging on her with one arm. Ever the visage of the older sister, the protector. Natalie had always been really close to her sister, and Arcturo was glad for it. They'd have each other long after he and his wife had passed away. At least, he had always hoped that it would be that way. Now, he wasn't so sure. Natalie, always so strong and fierce, always so quick to resolve problems her way. The sadness of his smile became an overbearing weight on his heart. A pain so deep, and so empty, he felt that his heart may actually break apart.

He glanced again at his phone. "New Message."

Garden of Shadow (Horror, Human Mutations, and Monsters)

I wanted to clear something up to everyone so everybody is clear. Originally I had intended for this roleplay to start about a month into the outbreak, but have since obviously changed that to day 2. I understand that between the current IC date, and the information I have provided there is a time lapse.

However, I am confident, being in advanced, in our abilities to play out the world: e.g what is basically a war of pure chaos against the feral (a losing one at that), and the "in progress" state of everything-- especially the communities I have listed. What this means is that even though, say, one community is listed as having an area section off behind a junk wall, since it is only day 2 that wall would only be "in progress". It may not even be that far yet, there may just be survivors holed up trying to stabilize their little area.

Can we all do this? Because, to be honest, I'm not to keen on having to rewrite all of the settlements to reflect their uncompleted states.

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Natalie has been posted (Post #3). Bios and IC coming next.

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Natalie has the same bone pattern protruding from her spine along her outer forearms and the back of her calves.

Garden of Shadow (Horror, Human Mutations, and Monsters)

@Adora Bell
Matilda, while an interesting character, is denied.