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11-11-12 11:46 PM
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11-11-12 11:46 PM
TheNameWithNoNumbers is Offline
| ID: 687384 | 806 Words

Level: 41


POSTS: 226/359
POST EXP: 24675
LVL EXP: 445457
CP: 151.7
VIZ: 5451

Likes: 0  Dislikes: 0
   Everyone knows it, the 5 second bliss period. When you wake up, you forget, life's worries, life's pain. You forget about the tedious problems bothering you. The bliss period also covers up larger worries, larger decays in what you call life. You forget that you're trapped in a nightmare, a comical storybook nightmare, where you hide, you survive, you do whatever it takes to live, to keep from insanity, sweet ignorant bliss. You forget that you might be the last one here, the last one in a sea of flesh eating monsters.

I'm alive. No, not alive. Existing, existing on this painful, painful earth. You're not banished from this nightmare yet, and you don't intend to be... for now.

   He looked around in the darkness, his eyes useless. But his hearing... he knew the telltale groan, the scratching against the door like a pitiful, starving dog trying to get scraps. Some were outside. He didn't want to get trapped, but he knew that they could find him anywhere. He knew that if he stayed too long in one place, they'd eat him alive.

"Two hours, ya' buggers! Ya' can't gimme two hours of sleep!?" He muttered to himself quietly as fatigue slowly slipped away. He knew it was somewhere around twelve, judging by moon position and his somewhat trusty watch. He had hid in here around ten, or was it ten-thirty? He didn't know, didn't care. How many were out there? About two to three, guessing from the groans. His hand instinctively reached down to his Luger as he got up. This was all instinct, all developed after 2 months of this mess.

As he yawned quietly, he got up, stretched out, thought about other things. His dead wife, his son, all shot in the head. How he cried after, resolved to live for them. He thought about the outbreak, how quickly it had spread through London, like a wave, first the police tried to hold them back, then the army, and they were all gone. Mass panic, the train station, he knew early on, how trains let on infected and they let off a crowd of them at other various stops. The screams, the fires, the pathetic buggers who barricaded themselves in and killed themselves early on. His family, dead in the first week, he had to survive, now he moved from building to building, never staying, or he'd be swamped, no way out. He was a nomad.

Where did that word come from?

He sighed, and blinked a few times to get a hold of himself. He'd practiced letting them in, always so slow, shove them by the neck, let the Zed fall on the other, take them out with the gun, run like hell. He took a sip of one of the 5 water bottles he had, which reminded him he needed to go scavenging before finding another place to hide. He cleared his throat, ate a fun-sized Snickers, and got ready. He went down the steps of the flat. He had to search a long ways for a place with intact doors, the doors that weren't barricaded or locked. The windows though, had to be secure. This one had iron grates on them, probably in one of the slums. But he had to save these spots, remember them. He could come back to them later.

He took a deep breath.

Let's go.


(Out of Character (OOC): If you read that, good. If not, read it.

Why? Because, this is a roleplay. If I need to make the setting clear, this is London, and this is a zombie apocalypse, where it's survive, or get eaten. Now, if you are going to join, then please, I BEG YOU, make a description of your character in OOC. Like, age, name, build, etc. An example:

John is a somewhat wiry man from being hungry half the time. He is about 5, 11", with brown eyes, and black hair. He wears pretty much whatever he can get his hands on and isn't ripped too badly, which now consists of a Gray T-Shirt and some jeans. His family was killed during the first week of infection, and he has swore to live on. He will do whatever to survive, this includes betraying anyone if in danger. Has a general distrust of people.

Next, if you need to talk during the thread, you need to tell people what you're planning, etc., use (OOC: Example words) that template, please. Remember to read this, and follow guidelines. Lastly, no post has to be textwalls like mine is, but don't post anything shorter than a paragraph. If you do need to tell me anything like that, PM me. Here's crossing fingers this thread will take off.

With Cookies and Sincerity,

TNWNN)


People that have joined/Names of Characters

TheNameWithNoNumbers/John (Note, this is OP.)
   Everyone knows it, the 5 second bliss period. When you wake up, you forget, life's worries, life's pain. You forget about the tedious problems bothering you. The bliss period also covers up larger worries, larger decays in what you call life. You forget that you're trapped in a nightmare, a comical storybook nightmare, where you hide, you survive, you do whatever it takes to live, to keep from insanity, sweet ignorant bliss. You forget that you might be the last one here, the last one in a sea of flesh eating monsters.

I'm alive. No, not alive. Existing, existing on this painful, painful earth. You're not banished from this nightmare yet, and you don't intend to be... for now.

   He looked around in the darkness, his eyes useless. But his hearing... he knew the telltale groan, the scratching against the door like a pitiful, starving dog trying to get scraps. Some were outside. He didn't want to get trapped, but he knew that they could find him anywhere. He knew that if he stayed too long in one place, they'd eat him alive.

"Two hours, ya' buggers! Ya' can't gimme two hours of sleep!?" He muttered to himself quietly as fatigue slowly slipped away. He knew it was somewhere around twelve, judging by moon position and his somewhat trusty watch. He had hid in here around ten, or was it ten-thirty? He didn't know, didn't care. How many were out there? About two to three, guessing from the groans. His hand instinctively reached down to his Luger as he got up. This was all instinct, all developed after 2 months of this mess.

As he yawned quietly, he got up, stretched out, thought about other things. His dead wife, his son, all shot in the head. How he cried after, resolved to live for them. He thought about the outbreak, how quickly it had spread through London, like a wave, first the police tried to hold them back, then the army, and they were all gone. Mass panic, the train station, he knew early on, how trains let on infected and they let off a crowd of them at other various stops. The screams, the fires, the pathetic buggers who barricaded themselves in and killed themselves early on. His family, dead in the first week, he had to survive, now he moved from building to building, never staying, or he'd be swamped, no way out. He was a nomad.

Where did that word come from?

He sighed, and blinked a few times to get a hold of himself. He'd practiced letting them in, always so slow, shove them by the neck, let the Zed fall on the other, take them out with the gun, run like hell. He took a sip of one of the 5 water bottles he had, which reminded him he needed to go scavenging before finding another place to hide. He cleared his throat, ate a fun-sized Snickers, and got ready. He went down the steps of the flat. He had to search a long ways for a place with intact doors, the doors that weren't barricaded or locked. The windows though, had to be secure. This one had iron grates on them, probably in one of the slums. But he had to save these spots, remember them. He could come back to them later.

He took a deep breath.

Let's go.


(Out of Character (OOC): If you read that, good. If not, read it.

Why? Because, this is a roleplay. If I need to make the setting clear, this is London, and this is a zombie apocalypse, where it's survive, or get eaten. Now, if you are going to join, then please, I BEG YOU, make a description of your character in OOC. Like, age, name, build, etc. An example:

John is a somewhat wiry man from being hungry half the time. He is about 5, 11", with brown eyes, and black hair. He wears pretty much whatever he can get his hands on and isn't ripped too badly, which now consists of a Gray T-Shirt and some jeans. His family was killed during the first week of infection, and he has swore to live on. He will do whatever to survive, this includes betraying anyone if in danger. Has a general distrust of people.

Next, if you need to talk during the thread, you need to tell people what you're planning, etc., use (OOC: Example words) that template, please. Remember to read this, and follow guidelines. Lastly, no post has to be textwalls like mine is, but don't post anything shorter than a paragraph. If you do need to tell me anything like that, PM me. Here's crossing fingers this thread will take off.

With Cookies and Sincerity,

TNWNN)


People that have joined/Names of Characters

TheNameWithNoNumbers/John (Note, this is OP.)
Perma Banned
QUALITY POSTER®, QUALITY MAKER®, QUALITY CONTENT®, UNTRADEMARKED QUALITY


Affected by 'Laziness Syndrome'

Registered: 06-30-12
Location: lodsaquality®
Last Post: 3439 days
Last Active: 3439 days

(edited by TheNameWithNoNumbers on 11-11-12 11:46 PM)    

12-26-12 07:50 PM
epicamazing is Offline
| ID: 709102 | 13 Words

epicamazing
Level: 33


POSTS: 16/223
POST EXP: 9749
LVL EXP: 213731
CP: 424.5
VIZ: 38910

Likes: 0  Dislikes: 0
I'd like to do this, but sadly I know hardly anything about London.
I'd like to do this, but sadly I know hardly anything about London.
Member
student, athlete, and sometimes a writer


Affected by 'Laziness Syndrome'

Registered: 12-17-12
Location: Seattle
Last Post: 3546 days
Last Active: 3542 days

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