Hawlin

Mutants of Barclay

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From the ashes ((An anthro-optional post apocalyptic rp))

I could think of a few twists to add to the equation, but its your thread.
Interested in an arthruo (if I spelled it right, its my first time) thread, wince it would be my first.

Mutants of Barclay

Stay...?
I...I never...

Even considering if I stuck around for medical attention and to drop off the passengers, would they let me leave? Again, I was in no shape to leave. I didn't imagine myself having the option to stay, although I entertained it. I wanted to save people, not be saved. Standing there in shock from Green's offer, I looked back to the front gate which had been opened enough for my charge to enter, though Lyle remained, resolutely holding his armament at the ready.
"RED!" The girl screamed, snapping me back into reality, realizing I had been standing there like a fool this entire time while the howls of the Fallen grew louder on their approach. Obviously, the gunfire had caught their attention. I wasn't concerned about the numbers, since I could probably still take two or three, but with the sounds of brush rustling not even thirty meters away, it was in my best interest to reach the gate.

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"Oh lord, why is she just standing there..." Lyle grumbled before his grandson's girlfriend or whatever passed as on these days decided it'd be a good idea to scream in his ear. Regardless, it got Red moving again. The boy of the group, probably around 19 or something shoved one of the guards. "Help her!" he insisted in a demeanor common to a highschool bully. The guard, who was quite armed took a step back and flipped the safety off of his rifle before calmly replying, "I know I'm not bitten...and don't push me again."

Biting his lip and pacing for a second, glancing from the trees to the limping Red, he growled a short "Oh, fuck yourselves" and charged out of the gate, shrugging off the girl and Lyle who simply let him go with a short "Don't be stupid, boy!"
At about that moment, five more undead charged from the brush, distracted from Red by the jock's gusto. A single round from Lyle's cannon dropped three which happened to line up, leaving one to the boy's axe and the last rushing Red while three more emerged from the brush, drawn to the noise by the gate.

Mutants of Barclay

Meh, this next part may go by fast...although I don't really want to leave anyone behind from a back and forth. I've been thinking of a post all day.

EDIT: I may end up posting tomorrow asap. Stuff came up with late night pissedofferkins of people that I had to clean up.
Still, I had ideas for a post.

EDIT2: My comment about the leaving people out was meant to mean that I wanted to wait for people to post so it wouldn't just be a wall of back-and-forth posts. >_<

Mutants of Barclay

Oh, and to be clear, she doesn't actually have multiple physical arms. Dark energy and blah blah blah.

Mutants of Barclay

(The Fallen are how Red thinks of the zombies, while The Turning is the event where the outbreak went out of control, leading to the apocalypse)

I had thought of this day long before The Turning...heh, I guess I had an interest in zombies. The concept never really sunk in quite as hard as the bites into my armor, though. I never really thought I would need the plating, it was mostly to keep up the image which people seemed to find some kind of comfort in; seeing someone so comfortable with the wastes when the reality is really very simple.

We are all scared.

Nobody wants to be buried in a writhing screaming mass of irrational hatred which tares at every weakness they can find before making their own. Most have the luxury of seeing it coming, to make peace with their maker and cry out for help before being consumed by force. Some even have weapons, to give them the piece of mind that they may take a few with them to offset the balance.
I had made my peace when I realized sight was a perception, and resolved myself to silence in these last moments...or as much as I could glean from the chaos of my armor and cloak being torn to shreds before cracks of gunfire left me under a pile of the new dead.

And it was quiet, and I was alive. I squirmed out, dragging my tatters with me as I slid along the shadows, but sight slowly returning and focusing on a dull green mass in the window of a nearby watchtower. The view slows as the click of a handgun rang through. The realization that despite my gratitude, I may have been bitten in that mess, washes over me. Maybe he's there for backup, maybe he's there to help the others? His direction turns...he's coming for me...maybe its a bandit camp and they're going to put me down. Emotions of gratification and fear run rampant as my third and fifth arm load my crossbow, trying to obscure the action under the cloak which barely covers my figure. I can't imagine what he could want from me, but with all things considered, there were those I was still entitled to protect. I only hoped I would be able to protect them.

We are all scared.

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"Stop, please!" I call in as much of a hushed hiss as I could under my breath, trying to regain my composure after the assault I had sustained, holding my ribs which I'm sure were at least bruised at this point as my third arm leveled the crossbow in his direction. Judging by his apparel, I had no clue how many rounds he kept on him or what his firearm was loaded with. I must seem crazy...
I continued along the fence, quietly bracing against it since I was certain I had twisted my ankle or worse in the ordeal. I couldn't go back out there, I would certainly die...but without knowing what I was walking into, it was a coinflip.

Mutants of Barclay

Post is done if we're k with it being a thing with tchtkrmkc and maybe people later.

Should I post?

Mutants of Barclay

Name: Lyle J. Rikards
Age: 52

Appearance

Lyle stands at 6'1 with a lean build.

Bio/Recent History/Flashbacky paragraph thingy: Coming soon

Ability: Physical stability and enhanced strength.
Physical mutations: High density from bone and muscle mass causes Lyle to weigh some 500lbs despite his appearance.
Standard weapon: A prototype bolt-action 20mm rifle taken from his army outpost near the start of the outbreak. Because of the mutations, he is set on ammo, although discerning of targets and conservative of ammo...since the rounds aren't too common, anymore.

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Since I mannifested them for the sake of flare, I guess its no biggie. Although more than one person could have taken interest, I won't make the thread about my doings, since characters are people, too. People are entitled to their own plots, I just wanted to throw something out there for anyone taking watch on the wall.

Mutants of Barclay

I'll start on the followup post.
Should I worry about profiles for my npcs? Or just the important one?

Mutants of Barclay

Yeh, Red is a bit farther down the fence, having stayed back to draw attention.

Edit: sorry if it seems like a bit much to start with. I wanted to be the last post but people looked bored. *shrugface*