The Scotsman

The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

#1

The awkward silence between the two was intoxicating. You can't recreate awkward silences when conversing with yourself, and if you can, you're past the point of alone and well-and-truly in deranged. Welcome to Insanity, Population: As many as you can dream up. So he cherished the moments of reverberating bat wings in the high metal rafters of the Wal-Mart and ghost-town breeze billowing through the desolate aisles. The bitter early-Autumn wind no longer bit at his fingers and toes. God rays blessed the filthy entrance. But there was the tiniest seed of doubt in the back of his mind. It didn't grow into a twisted, wretched plant, but it never seemed to sink into the soil to never bear fruit, it sat there, pulsing, begging for attention. She'll kill you Dan. Chop you up. Eat you. Feed you to Zed. Use your helmet as a crapper. No she won't. Yes she will. She's eyeing your chest. She's going to plant your shiny knife between your ribs and tickle your lungs with it. She can't. She will. She'll heave your ribcage apart while you are still screaming and cook them. She'll sit you up so you can watch her lick off every strand of muscle. No... She won't... After that she'll pick your eyes out with a splinter of wood. Then she'll shit in your sockets and let the infection set in, and giggle away watching the burning agony from your skull break away your reason to live. "What book is that?"

"Chicago?" The last time Metro was in Chicago was for the Blitzkrieg Clan Warfare event in which the Shadow Fury Clan won (as they had for the past seven campaigns) by sending out skirmishing parties to each of the five other clan's (all of whom Dan knew hated each other vehemently) and baiting them into attacking the SFC's headquarters through various tactics. However, Dan and his XO, Luke Winters had set up a magnificently staged HQ and ordered a quarter of their force to go about business as if it was their real HQ. The other combat groups spotted each other and what happened after that was the most magnificent display of paintballing ever; as if a daycare of children were released on the world and started launching paint at everything. When the fray was at it's peak, Dan ordered his remaining soldiers to split into six groups; five of sweepers, who would sneak up behind their targets and take out the enemy in a glorious second of pure destruction. The sixth group was the best shots in the Clan: they would head up the middle of the fray exactly thirty seconds after each group had attacked their targets and take out any runners or hiders. It was nearly a 30% fatality rate for the Shadow Fury Clan, their highest yet, but has become renowned the paintballing world over as the Rainbow War, and remembered fondly for it's intense multi-coloured carnage by those who were there. The Blitzkrieg event earned the SFC their nickname, the Rainbow Brigade. Cate, his girlfriend for nearly four years at the time, laughed at him. Never maliciously, but she enjoyed seeing him getting so excited over the hobby of playing toy guns with hundreds of other men-children. She enjoyed seeing the gleam of complete nirvana that his father could so easily wipe away with a single twitch of that replica-Tom Selleck mustache. "It's a bit of a shit-hole," the thought of Ellie dropping a deuce in his sockets runs through his mind, "but I heard the radio thing too. You really think it's not overrun?"

"I'll take you up on the offer of food, but I think I'm okay for sleep the now. I've been in a state of insomnia for five-ish days now, I don't think I would wake up," he half-joked. "We can rest wherever you want buddy, I'm sure I can build a nice little fort out of the crap around here. It would be marvelous! With turrets! And slaves to toil the fields!" Metro exuberantly said, hands raised like he was raising a body from the dead. Maybe he did raise the Zeds. Maybe he shouldn't have jacked off in the shower so much. Maybe he should've recycled more. He dropped his hands. Maybe the Zeds were his spawn. "Of course I'll go, I couldn't refuse an offer like that from a pretty girl like you, could I?"

The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

threedawg said
Scotsman, that wasn't directed you at all and I'm sorry if it appeared that way. It was a very general comment which is why I set it as one of the rules; it applies to us all! Even though your character is a sharpshooter, I'm sure he wouldn't try to take on 10 guys at once at point blank range so it's all good haha

No no, I figured that, it was just in case, a fore-warning? Thanks anyway

Destined to Save the World [CLOSED]

phantori said
...it was a joke. You used a picture of a character from one of the most current and popular anime in existence.

The only anime I've seen, too. Not everyone watches anime, I don't see how me using that picture means anything?

Destined to Save the World [CLOSED]

phantori said
I'm sensing a faceclaim here. Yes, it's all good, accepted. ^-^

Sorry? Alright, thanks.

Destined to Save the World [CLOSED]

Appearance

Full Name: Jack Simmons

Nickname/Alias: 'Boxer', named after the workhorse from George Orwell's Animal Farm, famed for his strength and hard-working attitude.

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Class: Paladin

Personality: Jack can never watch anything unfair. He will stand up to teachers for unfair treatment towards pupils, and men twice his size picking on weaker people. Jack is fair. He does not judge and is completely impartial to parents, best friends, lovers, and figures of authority. What is right must be done. Besides from his cold and unrelenting attitude for the morally correct, Boxer is normally a jovial guy, playing along with jokes and laughing.

Short History: Boxer was born into a poor, single-mother family with two older twin siblings, both boys. One brother, Ben, was much stronger than Callum, and so would torture him, taking away all the things he held dear. One day, when Boxer was 9 and Ben was 12, Boxer beat him up and broke his nose and two ribs. He is now docile. Boxer recognised he was strong and combat-worthy, and so brought vengeance down on all those who treated others unfairly. His best friend, also Jack, named him Boxer in honour of the horse, and Jack Simmons became a pillar of righteousness in the community, a wall of fortitude for the weak and broken to shelter behind, a symbolic hero, a war-torn face for the faceless. The teachers dare not exclude him for fear of the overwhelming surge of beatings and assaults which would occur in Boxer's absence, so he retains his educational status. He was clever enough, not strictly a genius, but above average intelligence, which served him well enough in keeping him at school.

Abilities: (Nothing here yet; copy and paste once I put it up.)

Other: Bard's are useless. Bard's are NOT combatants. Don't argue with it either, because it's undeniable.

---

Is this alright, I hope?

The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

#1

"I guess you could say that, but that would be mighty suspicious. However, since I haven't seen a girl in four months who hasn't tried to eat me, I'll take your word on it, Ellie. Call me Metro."

Metro held out his hand and shook it, his grip firm and even, keeping the interlocked hands neutral. Neither hand swayed to a side for a few seconds to give anyone any power as Metro watched Ellie through the darkened tint of his mask. She searched for human life and found a scarred visor of kevlar. He searched for the truth and found a scarred mask of flesh and bone. At least they were on even ground. He let go of her hand and looked around. And then down at her bulging rucksack on the ground. And then up at her face. "What are you looking for? You ain't starving this side of August. Go easy on that stuff, and you ain't starving the far side of September neither. Just having a little gander?" Metro asked.

For the past 6 months Metro had been living hand-to-mouth. He hadn't had any supplies to store away, and so there had been many a day when he could feel the warm rush of death envelop him, only for the covers of endless sleep to be cruelly yanked away from him and reality come crashing down on him like a house of cards on top of a seesaw attached to a unicycle in the top floor of a wooden skyscraper in an earthquake.

"Are you travelling with anyone? I'm... uh... I've not actually talked to anyone in four months, and he was trying to steal my food and stuff that would be better repressed. Oh God, this is like tryna get a date before the Zed's happened. Can we tag along with each other? I got enough bullets and stuff, and you are evidently capable enough, but you got the food. I figure two eyes, no four eyes, are better than two eyes, even though we both ain't died yet, so that's like a... uh... a bonus or something." Metro stopped talking. He was rambling. She was cute, not much over 18 he reckoned, but still cute enough, and he was 23, so probably a little too old by quite a few people's standards, but it's not like it would be the end of the world or anything (Metro giggled in his mind at the pun). He shook his head to rid the thoughts. But as she was the only unhostile woman he had seen in such a long time, his mind wandered to unsavoury places, places that couldn't be visited if he intended to live any longer. Or at least she seemed unhostile. If she cut off his legs and drowned him in his own blood before carving out his pecs like a fillet and dining like a princess, he'd know she was a bitch.

" I got three rules though. Numero uno, don't talk about Fight Club. Nah, I'm kidding, but you gotta be honest. Honesty is like the oil in a machine, helps things run smooth, keeps the surprises the fuck away from me. Numero dos, it's about survival of the group. I help you and you help me. Numero... treeeee...? Three. Number three. I had a number three... Fudge knuckles, I forgot it. That seriously rendered this situation vastly less impressive than I hoped. Damn. Anyway, it's you an' me against the world kiddo, how 'bout it?"

Destined to Save the World [CLOSED]

phantori said
Depends on how you want his personality. Is he the kind of guy who would care? Or the kind that just likes to fight and defend his friends? You decide.

Okay, just checking, thanks.

Destined to Save the World [CLOSED]

phantori said
Depends on how you want his personality. Is he the kind of guy who would care? Or the kind that just likes to fight and defend his friends? You decide.

Okay, just checking, thanks.

Destined to Save the World [CLOSED]

phantori said Scotty, the Paladin's meant to be more defensive than the Knight; heavier armor, a shield, and probably a mace instead of a sword. So slower but a little stronger than the Knight.

Okay, cool. Sounds good. Is he still going to be righteous (i.e. can't knowingly let evil-doing happen), or is he solely the tank?

The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

threedawg said
You can remove it, sure. Honestly, I have no problem with people not adhering to their character's stated personalities because change is ineluctable. One of the rules is to try to be realistic, that's all. So regardless of your character's personality or how brave they are, if they're surrounded by ten raiders with guns pointed, they probably shouldn't try to be badasses unless they have a death wish in which case, that's fine hehe.

That's all fair enough. If you ever have an issue with my posts, let me know, I'm a nice enough guy haha. Also, just so you don't assume I'm trying to OP my guy, he was pretty good at paintballing, so I'm giving him some decent leeway with a rifle, hope that's alright.