The Scotsman — Roleplayer Guild

#1

Metro pondered the castle comment for a moment. "I guess you could. You fit the description anyway, and as any B-movie executive producer knows, as long as you look right for the part, you get the part. Sure, I'll be your knight! Are you thinking more Shrek or more Sir Lancelot though? Because I'm only taking the job if my ears don't look like trumpets. I'm suddenly realising Shrek and I share a lot of similarities. FYI, I am not Shrek," Metro point-of-factly stated. He remembered the Shrek Is Love Shrek is Life meme's from before the outbreak. Dan had loved them. Cate had not. Frequently she would get on at him for changing the computer screensaver from a topless Channing Tatum (God-dammit Cate) to the image of Shrek with the twisty neck. It would make him laugh for hours, and eventually Cate would storm out the room, tired of the poor quality jokes and puns. She would always come back though, trying to make him an adult but cracking a grin when she least needed to. "I think I'm definitely more of a Lancelot type," he muttered, broadening his shoulders and straightening his spine.

"Sure, sounds like a plan. Although I've already searched the place. Nothing worth grabbing. I notice there's only one sleeping bag though..." Metro joked, winking before he realised he was wearing a mask. However, the hearty laugh would indicate he was, in fact, just joking. "Do you know where you're going though? I don't have a compass anymore." Bashed against someone's head. "Lost my map." Had to stop the bleeding somehow. "No outdoors skills." Video games. "I'm counting on you here, Princess, because I ain't got a clue."

The thought of starting a little book club when he returned to Ellie made him grin. "I'll trade, okay, but if you mess up the corners I will cry. I hate ruined corners," he added as he took Poe's novel in his hands and flipped through the pages. "No pictures?" Metro put it next to Val.

Click! Screeeeeech! Metro grunted. Fresh air cooled the sweat. His hair plastered on his forehead made itching hard, so he ran his hands through it to move it away. Digging in with both hands, he scratched to his little heart's content until his forehead was relieved. For five days he had worn that helmet. This was the first time he had seen with normal vision in over a hundred and twenty hours. Metro rubbed behind his ears, under his eyes, just trying to get the feeling of dry sweat acting like a cast off his face. It was irritating. The cold air tickled his scalp, and the stench of perspiration floating from the mask could've hidden the scent of human flesh from any Zed. He finally pulled, rubbed, and scratched enough to feel reasonable.

Her hand floated out and held itself for a second, maybe infinity, before touching his face. It was like angels were caressing his very essence. Being alone meant exactly that, being alone. No-one had touched him in months uncountable, and now here was Ellie, making him feel as safe as he ever could. Being by yourself can cause damaging effects. A ferocious hatred of people, unusual habits and fetishes, quirky... quirks. For example, about four months since his last exposure to humanity, Metro discovered that if you sat on your hand for twenty minutes or so, and touched yourself, not necessarily in any sexual way, it would feel like some kind of celestial being was trying to comfort him, and trying to keep his hopes up. But it was a lone man stroking his face because everyone was dead. Everyone. But here, now, in the present, his lip trembled, but his eyes remained unflinching. He registered Ellie's words. “Maybe it would be safer if you were though,” he replied, not trying to push her away, but in this moment, all he desperately ever wanted was for her to live long beyond this nightmare, get old, fat, smell of freshly baked cookies, and tell her grandkids how she met some guy whose name she forgot in an abandoned Wal-Mart during the Zed invasion, and he allowed her to be here, telling this story. He only wanted life, if that meant his death. But the moment, and its thought, snapped like a glow-stick and he realised he was being foolish. He would live too. Why shouldn't he? He was Metro, survivor of the wasteland.

He watched as Ellie hid behind the curtain of hair. It was matted and clumped though, so he could see the rising blood glow in her cheeks through the thick strands of hair. What have I done? Have I ruined this? Already? he wondered, trying to think his way to relieving the situation. He continued to watch her as she ducked away, not looking at him as she spoke. He nodded his head gently, then pushed the chilli around in the can. He took little mouthful's as the spicy, rich food tore away at his stomach, as it had only digested plain staple foods like potatoes and some kind of bean (maybe). Like acid bubbling around in his gut, the chilli was. He dropped the can heavily and ran into the dark corner where he vomited up a reddish-grey concoction with the overbearing smell of chilli sauce and stomach lining. Metro wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket and slumped back to Ellie. He poured the contents of the can into her bowl and said, “Enjoy.”

Just as Metro bent forwards, trying to clear his fogged brain, he heard the most enormous clatter. Either it was enormous or the origin of the noise was the acoustic g-spot of the century, but he followed the noise anyway, armed with his knife. It wasn't until he had reached the children's department (his heart twinged; very little was taken in comparison to everything else) that he had left Val on the conveyor belt and his helmet on the floor. Too late to head back now, whatever it was could be on the move. He turned the corner and remembered the thick, dense black corridor at the back of the shop. He edged around until he stood before it, three or four feet before the darkness seeped out onto the floor. Groan's could be heard. The ruckus was deafening. Metro stood, swaying foot to foot, knife held overhand like a spade. A face shone bright from the black; definitely a Zed. Anymore in there though? You got any chums in there? Metro let the corpse struggle towards the almost-tangible taste of human tendon and muscle. Metro lunged with one foot and kneed the cadaver in the lower chest, knocking it off balance. He grabbed the loose grey skin on it's skull and heaved it down, plunging the knife in through the soft palette at the base of it's head. It slumped down on Metro legs, fingernails digging in as it slid down, carving into the living mans legs a canyon of tendon and blood. Metro flung the Zed backwards with all his force, ripping the skull off the spine and sending the bloodless brainbox rolling across the floor. Metro slumped down, pressing both his hands into the gash trying to stop the bleeding. “Ellie!” he yelled. “Help!” Metro looked down at the blood flowing out. “Fucking sunovabitch. Fucking son of a bitch. FUCK.”

threedawg said
I've edited that rule to make it a bit clearer but SyrianHamster has it right. Biting will cause you to turn, scratches won't.The Walking Dead universe is a little weird about this, honestly. The virus is airborne but it's dormant within everybody until they die. Once you die, the virus activates. However, if you are bitten, you get a very specific kind of illness, usually marked with an insanely high fever and hallucinations. This illness will kill you pretty quickly and you'll re-animate as a walker.Robert Kirkman, the creator of TWD comics, says that zombie bites don't kill you because the active version of the virus is being transmitted or anything; he says you die because of infection or blood loss. The show does it differently because once someone's bitten, that's it, they're as good as dead. They never attempt to disinfect the wound which implies that the infection spreads too fast, but the show has proven that amputations can help you survive so it can't spread fast. The show also has the virus attack your brain functions whilst you're alive so....Yeah, it's confusing. TL;DR: Bites will give you that there walker fever, scratches won't. The wound left behind by the scratch may get infected but the infection would be the same as one caused by being stabbed. The iconic walker fever will only happen to bite victims.

Thanks a buch threedawg, I just wanted that clarified before I put something down and got it all wrong. Thank you though.

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