Dixie Fiend

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

I'm here, going to read up and work on a post when I'm caught up.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Dexter Sterling

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● Location: Hoganville, Troup County
● Time: Morning-Afternoon

Dexter kept his distance after he made it up the stairs, hesitating as he turned to face the way he came up. The picture frames came down one after the other, building up across the length of the steps as Jaime went up. That was probably the most impressive idea he's seen in a while, Dexter thought to himself, which in reality was a little saddening that something so relatively mundane was so impressive.

As the wiring went up between the handrails, Dexter simply stood to one side trying to calm himself down and get back in control. He threw his hands up abruptly, running his hands back through his hair nervously as the first of the walkers reached the base of the steps and began to clamber over the picture frames. Dexter glanced over his shoulder and into one of the bedrooms distractedly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

He was definitely feeling 'out of it' at the time. He didn't want to have to fight the walkers, but even worse he didn't want to have to climb out onto the roof – let alone down three stories. And so Dexter merely stood there frozen until it was time to move, following the others into one of the rooms like a sheep being herded. It didn't take long to barricade up the door, there was plenty of furniture to move.

Dexter moved the last piece of furniture he could bother with, a nightstand, against the shambled together barricade before turning. Fuck, he really didn't want to go out that window. Couldn't they wait it out in here, maybe the barricade would hold up? No, they had to go and he knew it.

Richard took no time to harass Dexter on what was going through his mind, they both were well aware he wasn't a fan of what they had to do. ” I swear to the Lord Almighty, if you leave me alone with only fucking Cheech as company, I will hunt your Deadbrain body down and use you to kill him. Now move your fucking ass down the front of this fucking building. " As he stumbled a step or two in Richard's grip, Dexter glared knives at the man. But he withheld saying anything, and stuck to his silent demeanor. In a way, what Richard said was comforting, to some extent.

" Come on amigo! A little height never killed anyone, but walkers sure have! Andale! " Jaime was already heading down without a hiccup, and then Richard after him. Dexter made his way to the window relcutantly, looking down after them as the rain started to kick up a little.

He remembered being in high school. Raider team was the highlight of his young life then, and recalling his time in JROTC brought him comfort. Dexter was at every competition there was for each season, his favorite consistently being the competitions at Catoosa, as well as at the Riverside Military Academy. They were some of the farthest to travel, but teams from across the state showed up to compete there. The challenges were the most extensive at Catoosa and Riverside.

But this was different. He was to descend the side of a house with no sure grip. At the Raider competition, the courses had walls about ten feet high to climb over, which was nothing to bat an eye at when you had your team to help you. There was the Tower of Heaven at Catoosa, which was quite tall but even then it had rungs to hold on to. There were harnesses for rope bridges to keep you from dropping into creeks. And most importantly there was always a team holding your hand through it all.

Dexter cleared his throat, realizing his knuckles were white against the sill of the window. Richard was on the ground now, wincing off the affects of a short fall. There was a terrifying looking vehicle in the distance, right off the driveway on the road. The others seemed to be heading towards it, but Dexter wasn't as enthusiastic. He bet as soon as he got to the safety of the ground, his head would be blown off by whatever psychos were in that metal can on wheels. Walkers or potentially murderous strangers? He didn't like either option.

He slid his backpack off of his shoulder and held it out of the window, dropping it. He didn't want it getting in the way while he climbed down, and watched it crumple over as it hit the grass below. He expected to follow his backpack out the window and begin his descent, but instead found himself still standing at the window.

Fuck, move your ass douchebag. He told himself, gripping the edge of the window. Dexter pulled himself up, putting one leg out first and then the other. He lowered himself carefully, hugging the wall for dear life. Dexter's foot found its way into the ivy, but it was loose from the others having already put a lot of weight on it. He chewed the fuck out of his lower lip with anxiety as he remained sprawled out beneath the window, trying to ensure he had somewhere to put his weight. The siding was slick from the rain and as he lowered one palm against it he took note of the fact he was probably going to die.

Dexter looked like a retarded starfish coming down. Each movement came dramatically slowly, one limb at a time that tested its grip before shifting into it and lowering the next limb. When he finally approached the ground he looked over his shoulder and assessed the distance – close to two meters or so above the ground. Dexter let go and leaned back, his knees buckling as he came into contact with the grass, falling onto his ass. He exhaled as he rolled around onto his hands and knees and pushed himself to his feet. After grabbing his backpack and subconsciously dusting himself off, Dexter broke into a jog to catch up with his companions . . .

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Dexter Sterling

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● Location: Hoganville, Troup County
● Time: Morning-Afternoon

Dexter's breaths came in shallow rasps as he bolted up the stairs, his backpack swinging to and fro across his shoulders as it hung over only one arm. It made that familiar – oh how do you describe it – like a successive whoosh of fabric and buckles rocking with the sound of books and binders shifting around inside, the sound you were accustomed to when you were about to be late for class. That's what Dexter was reminded of.

" Jump the last stair! " The voice was familiar, Jaime's. He had almost completely forgotten about the others even existing during his ensuing fear of being grabbed and mauled. Dexter wasn't sure what he meant, but as he came around the last part of the bend to the landing his foot nearly collided with the uppermost step. He tried to stop himself from tripping up, and barreled over the rug he almost caught himself up on.

Having just barely cleared Jaime's obstacle, he stumbled over the landing onto the second floor. Dexter took a brief moment to steady himself, once again straightening the backpack that listed lazily down his arm. He glanced around hurriedly to find his companions. It was when he stopped he realized how much he was shaking, looking down over his hands which refused to steady themselves. Was he bit? He didn't think so, but one couldn't help but worry. Oh God, he didn't want to die in this prissy southern doll house.

Dexter peeled his eyes up and away from his hands, seeing Jaime. He goes to say something, but decides against it. Seeing one of his companions gives him some sense of relief from the situation, calming him enough to regain his awareness. He wanted to ask where Richard was and if he was alright, but he didn't think there was time to – he would just have to assume Richard wasn't trying on outfits and taking his sweet time in one of the rooms on the second floor, and instead was somewhere secure.

They had to move, it wouldn't take any longer for the walkers to get up to them. He broke for the other stairway down the hall without another thought. As he approached he began to take longer strides, opting to go two at a time again, focusing entirely on not tripping as he hurried up the steps . . .

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Charnobylisk I apologize again, I know you meant well and I hope I didn't come off as an ass - or condescending in any sense, which comes hand-in-hand with being an ass. I'll send you my skype ASAP so I can be better prepared for the next post.

To clarify where I think we're confused, when I mentioned "in the global" of my OOC comment I was referring to what the post is called by the GM, the global post. My in-character post mentioned the windows of the foyer, and the kitchen, respectively.

I totally understand what you mean as far as controlling other players' characters in almost any sense. I completely avoid it as I'm fully aware it's not acceptable, and in any other RP it would still make me uncomfortable. I only mentioned Jaime's character still possibly being on the second floor because in Richard's post Jaime wasn't mentioned anywhere, and I only quoted your post to highlight that. I interpreted it that Richard left Jaime in the dust.

I felt cornered into posting as Dexter was still stuck on the first floor tying his boots while the Roleplay grew more intense and time progressed without him(in some sense), and so I attempted to get Dexter on the same page as everyone else. Again, I'm sorry. I'll edit the last part of my post so that it describes Dexter making his way up the stairs, cutting out the part with Jaime.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

That group of Walkers has bashed right on through those windows. You would think that some Rich Ass in Ga would have paid for stronger windows considering how many tornadoes wreck through the area a year but hey, pretty furniture and swimming pools (movie stars) were much more important. Move your asses folks! They are inside and you don't have anymore time to fight with Lumpy The Bumpy Couch one moment longer!

@Lady Amalthea

That's where I got the context of the horde getting into the home, but I tried to be vague about how many were actually entering. I mentioned a few being in the foyer-entry-way, but as far as the rest of the house, they weren't erupting from under bedsheets and from the closets- no.

Interacting With: Himself, fuck everyone else I'm out to save my own ass.
. . .
The “team” were all capable of getting themselves out of danger, he didn’t even give a second thought to any of the others. They’d either be fine or they wouldn’t be. They were all in the same shit show together and he knew full well neither of these two pratts would miss him if he died.

@Charnobylisk

I assumed that I could nudge Jaime into my post since he wasn't mentioned in yours, and hadn't posted personally. I can't access the chat we all use for some reason, however if you guys would like I'd love to possibly start a skype chat? If not, I'll just make sure to clear any questions with you guys by PM before posting.

I apologize for the hassle again, I'm still getting used to all of this.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Lady Amalthea , @ProPro , @Charnobylisk

I've completed a reply, let me know if there are any errors or issues so I may correct them promptly. Sorry for the lengthy post of mostly more filler, I tried to describe a real danger to Dexter's life instead of simply going for the stairs while the walkers were described to be swarming the windows in the global.

Not really sure if I didn't put him in enough danger, or if the current scenario wasn't completely necessary. And I'm certain there will be a roll to see if Dexter was inadvertently bitten while struggling with the walker. Bring it on dice gods. I'm ready for it.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Dexter Sterling

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● Location: Hoganville, Troup County
● Time: Morning-Afternoon

Boots? Check. Gun? Check. Jacket? Check. --

In the living room, Dexter's familiar, lithe figure was knelt beside the glass nesting table in the center of the room. For some reason he liked to hold his breath when he did his laces, it added an element of suspense to what he was doing. As if instead of tying his shoes, he was pulling wires from a bomb. He'd kept the habit since he was a kid, somethin' his dad taught him.

Dexter was almost finished tightening his boots and fastening the laces inside the cuff so the loops wouldn't get caught when – “ OI, DICKCHEESE, BEANPOLE. . . ” – Dexter flinched at the sudden yelling coming from directly above his head, dropping his cigarette onto the floor beside him. He grit his teeth in an annoyed kind of way, setting a palm against the edge of the coffee table beside him. God damn, that man's voice was not easy on his ears, and that's coming from a guy who listened to all kinds of metal.

He shoved off of the table, skidding it to one side as he came to an abrupt stand. Dexter, under the alarm of Richard's shouting, immediately went to grab his backpack and cut for the stairs. However, as he scooped up the Northface pack and swung it around a shoulder he paused and looked over his shoulder. He scanned over the living room with a crooked frown building on his lips. Nothing.

But he wasn't going to forget the cigarette, and so he stepped over to the smoldering bud on the hardwood floor and stomped it out. He had to be deliberate. Mistakes weren't an option, especially during emergencies. After dealing with the fire-hazard, Dexter called up to Richard from the den, " On my way up, just one second- " He glanced at a few of the windows for any immediate signs of danger. While he couldn't see anything coming from where he stood, he could definitely hear the guttural hum of a group closing in.

Then there was a crash, and then another crash, followed by the sound of a hail of glass falling across the floor. What was a faint groan beside the house was now an audible roar of walkers as one after another poured through the shattered windows. The danger was here, it was real, and it was right around the corner. They were swarming the house.

Dexter shouldered his backpack a little tighter now. They were coming from the god damn far side of the kitchen. He turned on his heel and whipped around the back of the sectional couch. He took deep breaths between every other stride and blinked his eyes rapidly, and did these things as a method to wake himself up fully. In truth, he was near-hyperventilating. As he approached the stairwell though, Dexter slammed on the brakes – there was one in the center of the foyer, fumbling around in a trail of blood. There were others some ways behind it where the blood led from, surrounded by a mess of glass beside a large window to one side of the entrance-way.

The worst had to happen in that span of half of a second as he tried to come to a stop. He barely had any time to judge the distance between the walker closest to him and the stairs, his auto-pilot forcibly shut off. As Dexter came to a stop so abruptly, his boot went over the streak of blood that went through the foyer and to the door. The blood had congealed quickly overnight, and as Dexter's foot went over it he slid and went right on his ass.

He panicked, his arms springing back behind him to lever himself up. Dexter's eyes moved frantically out in front of him, wide with terror as the closest walker snapped its teeth together at him and lumbered forward. It wore a torn up flannel shirt, half of the shirt being ripped off on one side of his body and barely hanging on to the other side. It had suspenders that hung down off its shoulders and by its legs, which swung to and fro beside him in its awkward gait.

The walker advanced on him as Dexter's elbows bit into the hard ground beneath him, pushing himself up as much as he could. He fumbled to get his palm to the ground in time to aid in getting fully to his feet, and loosed a frightened scream as the walker towered before him. It's hands came outstretched and it clawed the air as it closed the distance, finally tumbling forward as it reached him. Dexter curled his legs back, bringing his knees in close as it came down on him. He tried to bring his boot back in order to kick the walker away from him, but it came down too fast on Dexter and was swiftly on top of him.

Dexter had the walker by its shoulders as its face spat and lunged at him, and using his knees pressed up against the walker's hips and mid-section he kept it from bearing down on his whole body. Dexter turned his head to one side as it continued to bite incessantly at his face and neck, his own teeth clenched together in the struggle and expression contorted into one of strain and panic. Drops of saliva mixed with blood and mucous or some shit splattered the side of his face each time the fucker opened its mouth. Dexter pushed the walker further up and up by the side of its shoulders, his arms extending like hydraulic pistons against several tons of weight – which was far from a proper description of his skinny ass struggling to get a single walker off of him.

Dexter pivoted onto his hip, turning over onto his side as he attempted to force himself on top of the walker. It growled and heaved in protest as he flipped them over, but Dexter's grip kept steady until he was on top of it. He glanced over his shoulder for a split-second now that he had control, and took stock of a handful of walkers getting to their feet and making their way across the foyer. Dexter grit his teeth as he locked his eyes onto the walker beneath him that kept clawing towards and tugging at his clothes, and reached down towards its head. He grabbed a hold of its long, greasy hair to get a grip of its skull and repeatedly slam its head against the floor – but as he pulled, the hair came loose in large tufts that stuck to his hand and clung to bits of its former scalp.

He moved his hand away from the walkers face in disgust, curling his elbow in the air above them both with haste. Dexter brought his arm down, striking the walker in the center of its face with the meaty part of his forearm just below the bony corner of his elbow. There was a fleshy crack as Dexter crushed its nose with ease, but it still tried to bite back. He brought his arm back again, repeating what he did before. As he slammed his elbow into the walkers face the third time, the forward-most part of its skull between the nose and eyes collapsed inwards – and its grip on his jacket loosened and it no longer continued to try and viciously bite at Dexter and growl.

Dexter pushed off of the corpse as the group descended on him from the foyer, his backpack slumping down his shoulder as he stood up. Blood and bits of the walker he killed soaked the back of his arm, but his Carhartt could take the abuse. Without any further hesitation Dexter darted up the stairs before one of the walkers could stumble within reach, taking two steps at a time, his boots rapping loudly over the marble-like steps. After readjusting his backpack as he ascended, he gripped the wrought iron banister as he rounded up the bend of the stairwell – his hand gliding across the cold metal surface as he raced up the steps . . .

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🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Charnobylisk Ugh, and the nooby errors pile up. My excitement got the better of me and I rushed out a post without thinking straight. :c I feel so embarrassed.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Lady Amalthea Got it, it won't be happening again. For good measure I'll be going through the rules again. I've PM'd a Moderator.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Lady Amalthea Oh god, I suck. I completely forgot about that, I'll get on that right away.