Hawlin

Mutants of Barclay

I can change anything if people would like me to.

Whoops, I left out NPC stuff >_<

Aaaand edited.

Mutants of Barclay

The fence of Barclay looms foggily on the moors of the ruined world, the merest semblance of life that had once been lies silently with the row of now rundown cars on and around the street. It hadn't been too long, you'd think, but the way the metal laid twisted and glass shattered from the ferocity the undead exerted to open the can of sardines...well.

A rabbit trundles out of its den in a fallen tree, timidly sniffing the air before abruptly looking up in the direction of the woods. Footsteps grow in volume, apparently running and just before a crossbow bolt skewers it to the ground. It begins to writhe violently, quickly recovering from its shock while its screams are overtaken by the feral howls of the infected. A shadow washes over the rabbit and a clawed hand of shadow grips the shaft, dragging the rabbit with the rippling red figure which leaps in time to avoid a diving zombie as they run from the viewpoint. The view is soon overcome with zombies tripping over each other in their pursuit.

The scene slows as it pans to a side view of the chase, artistically tailored with waving grey grass on a darker plane of the hills and sky in the distance. Zombie are instead replaced with a wave steadily chasing a gently rippling blood red cloud of cloth.

"I can still see them..." A female voice narrates as the view zooms out to the front gates of Barklay just in time to a thump of rifle fire from the silhouette of an old man standing between two other figures and two zombies. One of the zombies begins falling, going limp while the other stumbles over. "...it was a wash the second the girl had been bitten, and the foolishness of the boy to try to hide it from me was-" the narrator cut off as the old man readies a second shot. The view zooms back to the mass of red, up to the shoulder of the figure just as jaws clamp down with a jarring screech of enamel on steel, a tooth pops loose.
A spike of pitch black erupts from the bite point, piercing the zombie through the head and dissipating into a dark mist, throwing its body into the others. Time resumes as the dark, disjointed arm swings, pitching the rabbit from the bolt which is withdrawn back under the cloak. The rabbit hits one zombie in the face and is caught out of the air by another, successfully distracting 3 of the fiends while the two who were knocked over by the assailant. The cloak figure dashed, seemingly leaping a good twenty feet while even to the ground, darkness itself from under the cloak depositing them them; coming to a rest in the shadow of one of the ragtag guard towers and taking a few hopping steps back while drawing a crossbow, already loaded. The 3 collected themselves, accompanied by another two who had ignored the feeding frenzy over the rabbit after it had fallen silent. Two clawed arms of darkness flew from under the billowing cloak, gripping a zombie by the face, each and smashing their heads together. They continued to squirm and reach for the figure who seemed to be checking their shoulder for damage while a third went mostly unnoticed. Pushing its way past the two who, from being pulled apart, were smashed back together with lethal force this time. Before it was almost too late, a third hand, the one with the bolt, rose up from between the figure's legs and rammed the bladed projectile up into the beast's jaw and through the base of its skull, slaying it, though the momentum forcing it onto Red who fell to a knee from the weight. The other two arms fizzled and dropped the corpses, only to reveal the now blood-soaked 3 who had savagely devoured the rabbit...and their four fiendish friends.
~~~~~~~~~
My perspective snapped back to reality as my concentration broke, I now stared down the remaining seven. I lifted my crossbow to fend them off, but misfired from the lack mobility, sending it into the dirt. Blindness rapidly returning, I rolled myself up in the cloak before the first of them hit, pushing me against the fence. I made myself as small of a target as possible, using the one with the bolt in its head for cover from the ensuing blows of the desperate screaming dead.

I only hoped this settlement wasn't abandoned.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Meanwhile, the boy at the gate drove his axe into the second zombie, rising to the occasion as the girl panted against the barrier, pale. "Rook!" She called, checking her pistol in the event she needed it in between checking the bleeding on her leg. "Don't worry babe! I won't let any of these nerds get near you" he tosses off with a chuckle, kicking the one on his axe off to free it up before glancing to the gate and shouting "Oi! Are you all dead in there, too?"
The old man took the moment to reload, a good four more coming out of the trees. He dropped one of them with a few shots before his gun jammed, obviously poorly maintained from its time spent on the road. It was clear, however, despite his age, he was a decent marksman.

(Red is actually blind, but a savant hunter because of their affinity to perceive the world through the movement of shadows. However, once concentration is broken by physical or emotional stress, they quickly revert.)

Mutants of Barclay

My character may incidentally end up up being a seamstress...

Mutants of Barclay

Intentional multipost.
Its done, but again...

Mutants of Barclay

Whoops >_<
Well, I was intending on letting a few people post first and get acquainted because having something to do...although the dinner would be a little funny for the aftermath.

Mutants of Barclay

Well, unless we want events to progress that quickly >_>
- I mean, it kinda involves 3 npcs and my character between the fence and a few zombies.

Mutants of Barclay

I'll finish up my post, but I don't think it should be one of the first posts.

Mutants of Barclay

I fancy I may fix a drink and get to work on my real CS in the meantime.

Mutants of Barclay

Ugh, I would kill for a pic like that, DragonBud. :/

Ah well, individuality.

Mutants of Barclay

Name: "Red"
Age: Widely unknown though supposedly somewhere between 20 and 35

About

Depictions and first-party accounts suspect Red stands around 5'10 and is clad in black-stained leather armor as well as their calling card. 'Red' is the name the story was given after the entity's scarlet, seemingly metallic cloak which they were never seen without, the hood always drawn and a supernatural darkness manifesting to hide the wearer's face at all times. Survivors saved by 'Red' depict the cloak being made of a thick cloth, but so battered and stained with blood that it had taken on the depth of blood's hue. Others say it is made from a tightly woven chain link which is blood red with rust from the time spent exposed to the elements. Regardless, the story spread like wildfire amongst those saved by this faceless being, survivors residing in various settlements forming psuedo cults. Depending where you go, the story would refer to them as "Red Rust" "Red Death" or simply "Red". Their philosophy states that "blood lies on everyone's hands and that the plague is a result of humanity's sin. Death, now stained in the blood of the damned, shepherds the living towards salvation. Like a force of nature, Death cannot be tamed by the hands of man who he now serves...and his only dominion is over the dying world which rust is doomed to consume"
Such cultists can be noted by a tattered red scarf, headband or armband. Rank is shown by metal rings sewn into the fabric. An artist was one of those rescued some couple months back and had made depictions of Red. The first was an account of their navigation skills with the wilderness only a day or two in. Everyone was hopelessly lost, but Red lead them on, sure of their footing in 'The Vally of Death'

And one based on speculation of their voice, by the only time Red had ever spoken to anyone, usually seen speaking to those who laid dying before putting them to death via a mercy blow. A tinge of masculine strength and fairness, although questionably female.

The context in which they had spoken to the living was never given and, because of this, any assumption of 'Red's gender is considered blasphemous.

Bio

"...Red..." The man says from across the fire. The light from the fire flickers against the shrouds along the windows of the old gymnasium while I ignore him, a single muffled pop from the fire being all of his answer as I go about bending the rings of my shroud back into place. He stared at me in silent, this thirty or forty something year old squatter which we should all look like, given the state of the world. Convinced he meant me, I looked up at him. The gesture was enough since he continued, "Why is the world like this?" I prayed they he could not see my expression of bewilderment at the mere inclination that I knew anything more than he did; shit happens and you make the best of it...
It was nothing new to me, really. My father and I hunted often, mostly for ourselves. We learned to respect life but understand its sacrifice for the sake of progression. Hunters, poachers, peasants, fugitives...many could call my family many things, but I was thankful enough to have this...curse. I was simply myself to those whom it concerned. The plague had done wonders for me, since the world was now my hunting ground...as well as father's resting place.
I sighed, drawing the small urn which still held father's ashes, tipping a bit onto the fire, causing it to flicker a dull green for a moment. I was with him wherever we made camp, wherever we rested to dress a hunt for the half-week provisions...only what we needed.
"The world is how it is..." I began, setting the small urn back into my messenger bag and proceeding to continue my work on a hook I was crafting from a rib of a wild boar, "...Because it best suits humanity."
I blew away the dust from the nearly finished hook, drawing my father's knife from the holster on my armor, if only to carve 'BOAR' into the length. I smiled to myself; foraging was my life, and the way of the world held me as its favorite. Nature has begun to retake civilization and with the bloodlust for human flesh that The Fallen have adapted, food is present, if you know where to look. Still, the man looks unsatisfied. "Here" I offer, with a chuckle, my work of the last week, "-If you want it. It is hope" I say, unironically. "You four will live and people will wonder why" I say as I sheath the knife, looking back to the fire, contemplating what I gave up to give answer to hopelessness. "Tell them death delivered you"

Ability: Noctomancy (control over darkness, most notably to manifest blades and other bladed instruments of destruction)
Physical mutations: None that anyone has seen, given their obscured appearance. However, Red has displayed appalling strength on numerous occasions while endeavoring to protect.
Standard weapon: A fairly ornately designed reverse crossbow as well as what some claim to be "blades" or various sorts which emerge from under the cloak.

(Subject to change as information arises.)
((I'm off to work and can make changes and elaborate when I get back.))