QT

Walking Dead rp

Idk what happened, but I can't connect to Chatzy. Oh well.

Walking Dead rp

Eli - Road to Haywood

"Your wife is happy - Your wife is happy - Your wife is happy - Your wife is happy - Your wife is happy - Your wife is hap......"

Eli stared at the hard sand beneath his feet, which looked like rugged sawdust at the time. But why? He turned to his right to see a large wooden wall being hung up by a large mechanical crane. To his left, a dog, barking at him, rushing towards his legs, playing around them. Eli's eyes became colored in Satan's image. They burned as confusion ran down his spine from the tip of his brain. He once again found himself staring at his feet, his boots suddenly were damped in water. As he returned his gaze to the right, the wall had been buried in the profound lake. The dog that stood next to him had drowned along with it. But as he faced up, he saw his wife. Standing there, shining like an angel sent from heaven. It was a beautiful sight, like the one dream a person wakes and remembers.

"Iman, Iman......I'm sorry baby. I-I....Those people....they needed to survive. I had no choi-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" she yelled, her voice as deep as the growl of a grizzly. Her skin then started to shatter and became contaminated in darkness. Her eyes pitch black and her angel wings burst into flames. She fell to her knees and started to disperse into ash. She shrieked in pain, a bodily pain that cannot be met by any sort of torment. "Baby NO!!!" Eli yelled, running towards her, but only getting further away. This abnormality was the mental vengeance Eli had to suffer every time his wife was mentioned. He lost himself in a trance that could not be broken until he witnesses his wife get submerged into the marine.

Then his vision returns. The dirt again beneath his feet. The walls built like catacombs, racing down the aisles to see cells filled with slaves. He watched the guards quiet and waiting for his departure.

"You know how the deal works from here. If you find the agreement honorable, then meet us at the gates of Haywood anytime at sunrise with the supplies demanded. We will then exchange for the girl" he said as he started down the hall. He didn't bother to stare into the cells, afraid his wife would recognize him is she was there. "I'll kill him" Eli murmured to himself as he saw the light of day dawning away. His men pulled the truck out of the parking slot and began to load their leader. "Are you okay sir?"

"Let's go soldiers, we don't have time for chit chatter" Eli commanded.

"Yes sir! Round it up gents, lets get going!" the commanding officer said, closing the van's sliding door and entering the passenger seat. "Boys, are y'all ready for retaliation?" Eli announced to the soldiers.

"What do you mean sir? Against Tyler?"

"No. Were taking over Haywood"

---

Floyd - Arena - Raiders/The Bull

With the stench of black walker blood all over his arms, Floyd couldn't get away from the aroma of death. Walkers lay on the sands of the dome, motionless, facing death yet again, this time, for good. He was stained in dirt, facing not only physical fatigue, but mental. He was locked in a situation that he couldn't escape. Usually, he wouldn't run from a fight, but a fight he was forced into was a different thing. What was next? Floyd questioned everything now, but still believed in his logic - there aren't good people out in this new world.

Then the applause started, the thundering clap that echoed through the halls. So many people there to watch him fight walkers, something that nowadays happened everyday without authority. Forced into battle, he was used to entertain the pirates that surrounded the Colosseum. These was not the Roman Empire, yet he felt a gladiator and slave to their oppression.

The golem then started towards him, followed by his gargoyles, armed to the tip of their heads. Their rifles faded black, just like the walker blood that composed seventy percent of Floyd's persona. They seemed to take precaution, facing Floyd as if he were hostile. At this point, Floyd couldn't fight even if he wished, his arms weren't even responding to his nervous system or whatever system helps them move. Floyd isn't a science nerd. Anyhow, once 'The Bull' stood before him, taking the knife from the ground, Floyd started to look around his circumference. He watched all the raiders stare directly at him, some smiling, some pissed that he hadn't died in battle. His eyes were clinching together, hardly opened. Sweat had poured down his medium-length hair. Then the beast broke Floyd's trance of thought. He threw two questions at him, questions Floyd didn't know if he should answer, or if there was a right or wrong one.

"....what kinda of things have you done to be here today?"

"What do you think it takes to survive?"

Floyd stared directly into the man's eyes. The Bull's eyes looked dark, this revealed his past to Floyd, how much of a monster he'd become after the outbreak. Floyd thought of the effects of answering the questions incorrectly. All he could think of was his demise, how he would be shot to death by a bunch of pirates. So the redneck chose to respond instead of remaining silent and still be eliminated.

With his squinting eyes, Floyd took one last direct stare into The Bull's dark pupils.

"You do whatever ya have to, that's what it takes."

---

Haywood Guards - Gates - Rob

The guards paused their shooting as they heard a voice call out to them. It was most definitely a man's voice, rugged and raspy, or so it seemed. The guards walked towards the words, finally reaching the man who will later be known as Rob. "Who the hell are you? Why the f*ck are you hiding the these woods huh? Are you one of those raiders? Answer dammit!" one of the guards yelled as two others closed in from all sides.

All of them had this man targeted as hostile. One of the three soldiers got a foot from Rob and started to remove the visible weapons. "I'm confiscating them, don't you dare move" that soldier announced quietly as the head guard continued to ask questions.

"Did Tyler send you? Huh?! Is he trying to go against our deal or something? He trying to cross us? Dammit why aren't you speaking?!" he angered. Two other soldiers took the position of those three soldiers at the gate for the time being. Nobody was allowed to leave as far as half-a-mile from Haywood unless Bruce or Eli stated otherwise.

Fields of Blood ~ Anime Samurai RP

Look here everyone. The RP will continue as it has, just without Myst as the GM. I personally never really took part in this, even though I am labeled the Co-Gm. Maybe if I'd of helped a little more, everythin would be fine, but I didn't. I f*cked up and that's that. So if y'all get pissed or whatever, aim all that on me, cuz Myst ain't got no time for it.

Y'all have the power to elect a new GM now. I suggest y'all pick someone who is very active. Choose the RPers who will be playin the brothers and continue through the conflict as it had been planned from the start. There isn't anythin changing, just corporate. So instead of feelin sympathy or anger or whatever it is you feel at this point, just start gettin everythin ready for whoever decides to take over. We don't need any sort of feedback. Were sorry for it, but its been done.

Walking Dead rp

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Post Check.

Walking Dead rp

Eli - The Deal - Tyler

After a couple of minutes of waiting, a man appeared from the shadows. He was slender yet toned, and bore the entrance-way to the catacombs like a fuhrer. His body language gave away his rank and position. If Eli didn't know he was Tyler, he'd still figure out he was the man in charge. To break the unpleasant silence, Tyler seemed to have decided to speak first, greeting Eli with conspicuous mockery. Obliviously, inside his head, Eli cursed the heck out of Tyler, but his facial appearance chronicled an opposition.

Without further ado, Eli followed Tyler as he entered the immorality of his sanctuary. Sure, it was a smart thing to have ones shelter underneath the apocalypse, but the conditions were extremely irrational and would conclude to be dangerous to Tyler's modeled world. Keeping mothers in these environments would only bring forth deception. The child they bare will have a higher probability of death, but all this wasn't Eli, nor Bruce's problem. Only reason they dealt with Tyler was to keep Haywood on top and keep a mutual understanding between their town and these glutton raiders. Walking through that underground lair was purely disgusting. No part of their entire catacomb resembled any part of Haywood. Unlike their town, Tyler's place was obscene and salacious. It reeked like the dead and looked even worse.

"I have the paper work with me like always" Eli stated, looking side to side, watching the prisoners scramble like ants at the sight of Tyler. "You should clean this place up for once. I feel like I tell you this every time I come, yet you do nothing. You've got men who aren't doing anything all day, you might as well put them to clean." Neatness was one of Eli's most brawny attributes. He sought everything to be as crisp as possible, that was the reason Haywood turned out like it currently is. "Anyhow...." Eli continued as they seemed to have reached Tyler's quarters. "......Look over this" he said, passing him the packet of papers. Two sheets described the girl with as much technicality as humanly possible. The second and third sheet had the trade arrangements, ranging from how the deal will be made to what Haywood wanted in return for the girl. It listed all the materials Bruce wanted, which was triple the usual, stating that this girl was more valuable to his cause due to her current condition.

"I'll leave you with that then. I shall be outside awaiting your response. Please don't take too long, I have duties to return to" he said as he returned towards the entrance, but suddenly, he paused. Without turning, he started to resume his speech. "How is Iman doing? My........wife," he struggled to finish. Every time he came to make a trade he'd ask the same question. It was like a standard procedure, forced to do it every arrival. He stood there, awaiting an answer from the monster that now stood to his back.

---

Floyd - Fear - Arena

As Floyd was stripped from the safety of the cell, the redneck started to feel an emotion he'd never thought was attainable. The giant from earlier was escorting him to who knows where. They were accompanied by two? Three other guards. As they passed down the cells, Floyd couldn't help but peek into their interior. He squinting eyes caught many women's sight. They all looked struggling, facing the hardships of these brutal men and the harsh conditions they were forced into. But Floyd didn't really feel all that compassionate for all these women, he was in search of one in particular. Unfortunately he was not able to spot her in any of the cells he walked passed. Even if he had actually seen her, there was no way he'd recognize her when all the women were basically mimicking dirt. Every single one of them were covered in raw abomination. It was a horrid image, thankfully it hadn't lasted too long.

Next thing you know, Floyd was shoved brutally into what seemed to be a larger cell. It basically mimicked a Colosseum, the arena of gladiators. Come to find out that it was basically exactly that. Survivalist now were basically the gladiators of the roman period, fighting to live another day in pure loathsomeness. The fat man even instructed Floyd to fight for his life, it seemed he was putting on a show for these motherf*ckers, there were spectators all around, most of them were part of the raider's armada. Without anymore time to spare, a container was opened up by two of the soldier escorts, allowing a small hoard of walkers into the arena to join Floyd. Rapidly, the four walkers started for their red meat. To make things more interesting, another soldier threw a knife on the ground, ironically, it landed between the walking hoard. Floyd then felt the same emotion again, not understanding why his heartbeat was raising as quickly as it was.

Floyd's eyes wondered side to side with intention. He was trying to understand why these people were playing such games with human life. This was irrational, it didn't constitute anything, just pure comedic relief. Then as the imaginary bell ringed, the fight began. Floyd encountered the first walker with a right fist to its jaw, sending the walkers face flinging to the side. As it came back, he resumed by taking the walker by the clothing and tugging him aside, throwing it directly onto the ground. The second and third walker followed together, in the meantime, the first walker was already getting back up. Floyd quickly front kicked the second walker, forcing it to physically stumble backwards, then dodged the third walker by rolling aside. At that point, he was crouching right above the knife supplied by the soldiers. He picked it up to meet the fourth walkers drooling over his shoulder. He arose with his left forearm, clashing against the fourth walker's neck and stabbing it in the head's skeletal system directly over the forehead. That walker tumbled straight down without pause. He then took the opportunity of being armed and rushed for the first walker, who at the time had still not fulfilled his mission to regain balance. He kicked it back down, jumped over it, and jammed that dull blade into its skull, leaving a gap where one could see its demolished brain.

The third and fourth walkers seemed to have given their double team another shot. They took three steps forward to catch Floyd in the act of murdering one of their friends - the first walker. With a twist of the hips, Floyd came bashing in with his knife and met the fourth walker on the side of the head, but without time to remove the blade, the third walker reached Floyd by the shoulders, knocking him back into the arena walls. Floyd still held the handle of the knife that was stuck to the fourth walker. He dragged that body along with the knife, trying to pull it out. Floyd used his own free hand to prevent the walker from getting those filthy teeth too close to his body. He then used the walker's own momentum to push him onto the dirt. Finally managing to remove the knife from the fourth walker's cadaver, Floyd took action and pinned the third zombie down. He stabbed it directly through the face to puncture its brain, but wouldn't stop. He continued to do it until he finally became exhausted and fell back, dropping the knife on the ground in the process.

From the ground, he watched everyone eyeing him like an idol. He couldn't understand why someone could be so damn wicked. Not even his parents were this demented. That's the reason his ideals of this new world were completely correct. There weren't anymore good people out there, no matter anybody says. The apocalypse changed everyone for the worse, it was logical. Even now, as much as he hated every single on of these raiders, Floyd just couldn't judge them.

Walking Dead rp

Is like to get a rundown on who is still with us, who is still dedicated to this rp? Please post below in response to this if ya are.

Walking Dead rp

Eli - The Arrival

As the halting tires shrieked, the windows to the dark van were rolled up quickly. The driver and his passenger scanned the area before giving the all clear. The checked the entire perimeter, looking through the rear-view and side-view mirrors. The driver gestured the four men in the rear part of the van to suit up. Suiting up basically meant, arming weapons and putting on any necessary equipment, such as bulletproof vests (if any) and other protective gear available.

The first man to exit the vehicle was the front passenger. He wielded a twelve gauge pump action shotgun colored in full body matte black paint. It didn't have any attachments other than an extra mag strapped to the side. It was one of the most popular shotguns of its time, not very unique. This passenger then opened up the slide-door of the van, allowing passage for the four other men awaiting to advance. As the barrier was removed, three of the men rushed out fully loaded and prepared to fire on anything that was noted as a threat. They had a fluid formation and were very delicate in their stances. The fourth men followed slowly, it was Elijah Haywood, the African American real estate agent from Louisiana. He had finally arrived at Tyler's camp and awaited his company.

The driver then took off and parked by a nearby truck, the exact same truck that ironically caged Floyd just a couple of minutes before. The trip from Haywood to this camp was about fifty to sixty miles, so at a speed of about sixty-five miles per hour, it took nearly forty-five minutes plus to get there. It had been a decently long quiet journey. Quiet because the soldiers nor Eli were allowed to discuss business outside of Haywood. The only people that discussed it were Eli and Bruce, inside the walls of their haven of course. That just made things more confidential and less of a personal relationship. This wasn't a friendly chat, it was more of a mutual partnership, both parties put something in to get rewarded in return.

But now it was time to wait, allow some of Tyler's men to approach him and have them inform Tyler of their visit. Then Eli alone, as usual, will proceed into the man's barracks and will start the negotiations. Before leaving Haywood, Bruce informed Eli of what arrangements he had planned. He wanted to get triple the usual for this girl, her state was more...............fertile. A description of her was provided in order to prevent confusion. Eli would give Tyler the piece of paper that describes the pregnant teen and if he likes what he hears, he gets it, as long as he gives them what they bargained for. After the incident with Eli's wife, Tyler was no longer prohibited to see the girl before the trade. He was given a description via letter, handwritten by Bruce Levi himself. It was even signed by the man, proving that it was legit. The deal was that Tyler would give them the supplies asked for, Eli would return to Haywood with these supplies, then bring back whatever girl was traded off. If Tyler didn't like that arrangement, then he could go f*ck himself.

But now, back to waiting.

Walking Dead rp

Floyd - Hollow

It had only been fifteen minutes since he awoke, and now he sat in a puddle of water, hands and legs tied, as despair surrounded his every angle. That breeze from earlier was no lost, only a strong-willed precipitation remained. The damp atmosphere made it difficult to breathe, but Floyd was used to such conditions. Before the outbreak, he lived in the New Orleans' woods, which were basically swamp lands. The atmosphere in that chamber was the same as the one in his cabin. The stench was the only difference, it reeked worse than a pile of burnt walkers. But excluding that smell, not a single sound could be heard. This was the cell block and Floyd couldn't hear any other prisoners. Had they been altered so much that they've lost all hope in breaking free? Floyd's rage began to prosper over his common sense. If they were going to try and break him, they've got another thing coming.

"Look at'em Chuck, he's looking all depressed. Don't worry little fella' you wont be stuck here for too long. Soon enough, you'll be in the arena, gladiating for your life! Hahaha!" he laughed, making up a word that meant 'fighting'. This place was obviously worse than he'd imagine, but couldn't dare to lose himself in thought. His mission was to find a way out, but as of now, he had no choice but to keep silent and remain focused. When the time presented itself, he'd make a move.

"By the way stranger, you never answered our friend back there, what's your name? Yo momma gave you a name right partner?" the man known as Smith continued. He was irritating, like that little stuttering kid from the train yard, he just wouldn't stop talking. With a little hesitation, Floyd wasn't sure if he'd need to answer this man. He knew who they were, a bunch of pirates that stole from other groups. That's lower than Floyd would ever go. He was an independent man who could live off the land on his own. He was in this situation because he decided to go against that logic. If only he'd of stayed away from that group, if only he'd remain in his cabin maybe he'd never been in such a mess. "My names Smith, this over here is Chuck. Grumpy man out there was Brad, he's the head honcho around here, well, he's the second in command I guess you could say. Big fat-ass was Bull, he's a dummy, just muscle, Hahaha! Right Chuck? Just muscle! hahaha," but Chuck never laughed. He smiled, but never laughed. "Anyhow, that's our names, I'm sure you've got one too."

"Floyd."

"Oh okay, I see. So, you from around here? Cuz, I came down here from New Mexico and then all this shit happens. Psh! Just my luck huh? Anyway, you make yourself at home, cuz you ain't going nowhere anytime soon. Unless Tyler decides to make you one of us. I mean, you look like shit, but it seems you can take care of yourself. Around here, independence is strength. You take what you want and that's it. Unless of course Tyler says its against the rules. You know Chuck, Tyler sometimes scares me. Doesn't matter though, what I'm trying to get you to understand partner is that you shouldn't fight your situation, you'll just be wasting your time. Well, I gotz to go, catch ya in a while" Smith finished, walking further into the catacombs, yet remaining by the cells as they awaited company.

The other two soldiers that were in the bed of the truck parked the vehicle. Floyd continued to sit there, going against everything he was just told and trying to get out of those tight ropes. He didn't have anything on him, his only possession - his knife - must have been stripped from his belt when he was knocked out. "Dammit, I've gotta get the hell out of here. But these doors are completely shut. Dammit!" he thought to himself, still attempting to break free of the knots. It was a hopeless attempt as he was informed because he wasn't making any progress.

Walking Dead rp

Floyd - Prisoner

The loud sound of laughter gave Floyd a reason to awaken from what seemed to be an eternal sleep. He didn't want to leave the dreams he was having, which were of his life on the farm. But unlike the truth behind the estate, this farm was a fantasy. There weren't any scoundrels or miscreant beings, just the tender grass blowing with the wind along the hills. The plants bloomed brightly like the eyes of his livestock, smiling at the sight of the sun as it also blossomed above. Floyd had never experience such sensations, such joy, but then, vexatious utterance siphoned those wonders into a pitch black hole. As his eyes opened, truth returned.

He didn't speak, just decided to watch his surroundings with pinching eyes. Both his legs and arms had fallen into the same sleep he had just awoken from. They were united by a strong and layered rope. As he noticed himself sitting, he turned his head to his right and met a window. He could see the image outside moving as he felt himself still. Floyd made the realization that he was inside some sort of vehicle, most likely a truck, but that doesn't really matter. He had been captured by a group of pirates and had no idea what was going to happen next. Were these men cannibals? Why didn't they just kill him? It was an oblivious thought that ran Floyd's mind. Why waste their time with someone that was basically already dead? It didn't make sense.

Floyd then continued his visual inspection. He was seated right behind the 'shotgun' seat of the vehicle, the front passenger seat. The driver was farther to his left, one hand on the wheel and the window completely open. Wind rushed passed his beard and clashed against Floyd's torso. It felt great, but at times it would be too much that it'd get cold. Floyd's eyes then flipped, facing the back window of the vehicle. In the truck bed were two other men, laughing insanely during their conversation. It would seem that it had been their pandemonium that awoke Floyd. It was a very disturbing unique laugh the fat man had. He was very chunky, his cheeks implemented that weight. It was disgusting, Floyd couldn't bare to see, so decided to turn back to the front.

Then, the driver turned and took a look. He noticed Floyd's eyes were open, though barely. "Oh partner! You're awake!" he hollered, his voice echoing through the inside premise of the truck. His voice was even worse than the lard's laughter. "Say man, why were you out there on your own? You looked like shit back there! Did ya get separated from your group or something?! Where'd they go?! They got any girls?!" the man named Smith questioned. Though he didn't realize it, he was screaming above the sound of the wind. He was obviously trying to, but he was overdoing it.

Still, Floyd decided to stay silent. "So you're the loner type huh? That ain't no problem, Tyler won't care. Heck, he might even make you one of us, who knows" he started, turning to the passenger and laughing along with him. "Tyler?" Floyd murmured to himself, silently. "You say something man?" Smith asked, then paused for a second as if waiting for an answer. Since it didn't come, he turned back to the road. Floyd remembered the mention of Tyler. It had been that woman from the train track, she was the one that told Floyd about him. So these men were the raiders she was trying to avoid. "Where are ya takin' me?" Floyd questioned, surprising the two raiders. "So you can speak, hahaha. Anyhow, were taking you to our place. I wouldn't worry too much, Tyler may have use for you, if not, then to the arena. Right Chuck?! HAhahahaHA!" he started yet again.

Floyd angered at the annoying sound the two men generated. They just wouldn't shut their mouths, continuing to laugh when nothing was truly funny. Suddenly, the truck came to a halt. The brakes squealed as if they were in some sort of mechanical pain. It was an unpleasant sound to the ear. "Hey look Chuck, its Brad! BRAD! What's up partner? Sorry were late, we caught something for a change, look!" he yelled yet again, pointing to Floyd in the back seat. "Watcha want us to do with'em?" he asked his superior Brad. Floyd just stared at all the men that were now present. This was not the situation he wanted to be in. "We found'em in them woods back there. He was alone so were not sure if he had a group with'em. He don't say much."

Walking Dead rp

Soldiers - Outskirts of Haywood

During their little encounter with a survivor, whose weapons were stripped from him and allowed into the society of Haywood, noises began to pop from the near woods. Two armed soldiers escorted the new survivor into the complex as the rest of the men became suspicious of the loud sound that started.

"We gonna check it out?" one soldier asked another, making sure he had bullets in the barrel. The other two soldiers nodded at the first, starting to walk towards the precise location where the sound had generated. It was still daylight, so they would soon enough find whatever was out there. They were hoping for a deer, but that was never the case. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it was a lone walker, hoards hardly ever reached a mile from Haywood. Usually, when a hoard is found during the hunt, they are eliminated on sight, to prevent any further complications.

But though these soldiers weren't soldiers to begin with, they were organized as if they were. They had three-person formation set up and decided not to separate, it would only hurt them if they did. One of the soldiers whistled, trying to attract the walkers attention. Since it failed, the three moved closer to where the sound came from and prepared to open fire when ready.

Their safeties were off and all their weapons were fully loaded. They had gotten a big import of ammunition from the last trade with their benefactor. Even though some soldiers frowned upon the little deal Haywood had with the raiders, they understood why it was done. Many had to give up their wives and daughters, but if they didn't live with it, they'd die. Men changed after the virus spread, most lost their humanity. They say that events like these bring out the worst in people, whoever said that was one-hundred percent correct.

Then one of the soldiers decided to shoot in the general direction of the noise. "Did I get'em?"

"Hell, I don't know"

"C'mon keep moving, stay in formation" the head soldier said, going into the outskirts of the city.