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@765daysgone
“...Nice bike.” His face was covered in grim and blood as his mismatched gaze, a strange combination of gold and onyx, reaches the stranger. In his hand was what appeared to be red bladed katana and in his other hand, a handgun. The young teen had been walking for what seemed like hours, thankfully not confronting too many of those...creatures.
@765daysgone
Faint, frantic barking pulled Daryl’s focus, his gaze slipping from the snarling corpse working to bite through the air to his jaw. He was flat on his back, the hilt of his dropped knife digging into his shoulder, a Walker chewing its rancid way toward his face with just his arm to its chest separating them. And close to twenty more making their way toward him.
Or had been, anyway, but the dog’s racket was pulling their focus. In the span of a few heartbeats one turned, then another, starting to head off toward it.
But screw that to hell. Daryl twisted with a grunt, knocking the weight of the Walker off him and flipping ‘til he was straddling it. Reached blind for the knife (leaves, root, there) and grabbed it, slamming it into the corpse’s skull. He wasted no time, pushing up, panting, and barely twisted away from a second corpse barreling into him, stabbing as it went past.
He was down to eight, now. Eight left and nine dead already, and at least a dozen more making their way toward the panicked yips of his dog. Damn thing didn’t know enough to shut up.
Except then it did.
Daryl froze, heart slamming so hard he felt sick from it. Hell, he hadn’t known he could even feel scared like that anymore, but that quiet...
If that damn mutt hadn’t been smart enough to run...
He lost sense of the space around him, ‘til a body slammed him sideways.
OOC:
Hiatus! Sorry guys. Deacon muse isn’t cooperating with me lately.
@765daysgone // plotted starter
It was honestly amazing how a single word could turn everything on its head.
Copeland wasn't always one to venture out on runs, especially if it was something a small group could take care of in a day. One extra person out in the shit meant one extra person not at camp. One extra person who may not come back at all. Yet, what information he had gotten about the place suggested it was certainly valuable, which meant that he may not be the only one who had his eyes set on it. He knew better than to trust a drifter's word—considering they weren't aligned with him, who knows who else had the same information. Still, weapons were weapons and with how things were escalating, they would NEED them. So, he had gathered a group of people who were willing to ride along—smaller than what was COMFORTABLE for the situation, but he couldn't leave his camp too empty of people to watch over it. They could get the weapons from this place, they could fail, but having no place to return to was worse.
It wasn't too far his usual stomping grounds, but it was still a trek. Though, when they'd arrived, it seemed pretty barren. For a bit, he had been concerned that the place had already been picked clean and he was just LIED TO in exchange for safety for a night. The thought wasn't great but—well, it proved to be unfounded as they found what they were looking for. It wasn't a huge haul, but it was better than what they had. A couple of his people kept a look out for Freakers or anybody who may come sniffing as well, and things seemed to be going...suspiciously well. Still, with things getting strapped to bikes and supplies getting gathered, he wasn't about to work himself into a paranoia about it. However, as it would turn out, he really should have.
“Bikes approaching! Rippers!” came the call that had him and the people in the room with him raising their heads in alarm.
Quickly, he armed himself with his rifle as he made a dash toward the door, gunfire irrupting around them as a couple bodies of the men he had rode out with hit the ground. He knew this had been too damn good to be true. Copeland wasn't really looking for a firefight with them, but they'd shot first. Still, they needed to secure what they had strapped down and see what they could get away with, making his way around the back of the building toward the bikes. However, he came to a short stop as he noticed more bikes riding down toward them.
“...Shit,” he cursed, starting to look almost as stressed as the people still currently with him as he backed further into the compound again, trying to keep his mind from racing. They'd already killed a couple of his men, it was within his own reason to open fire right back, but they weren't Freakers, much as they looked it. Maybe there was a way to reason—with dwindling numbers, it was an uncomfortable solution but he didn't want to run out of options.
plotted starter for @765daysgone Beth was tired of it all, being a leader, the building of her community - she’d never wanted this and suddenly she realized this must have been how Rick felt after the farm, after the prison. Except she hadn’t seen anyone since the hospital, she woke up in the trunk of a car - she’d have thought she was dead too but as much as her heart ached for her family, she couldn’t bring herself to trust again. Trust, led to love and love led to the kind of pain she couldn’t take anymore. Even if she knew she wouldn’t take the easy way out like she’d tried at the farm, the reminder was always there. As she trekked through the forrest, tracking the deer for what felt like hours she slowed when she saw it in the field, holding up her compound bow and hitting it just behind the ribs causing it to walk; one step, two step then fall over dead. i’m getting good at this, soon i won’t need you anymore she felt the memory tickle the edge of her mind and she forced it back, that was another world - one that for her, didn’t exist as much as she wanted it to; as much as she wished they’d had continued their conversation at the funeral home... this was it. This was her life now. A twig snap in the distance made her rush forward towards the deer to make sure no walkers tried to take her meal for the small town but held up her bow when she saw another person instead, “What do you want?” she demanded, her voice probably coming off a lot harsher than she’d meant it too - people were rare now, more rare than they’d ever been she figured but she knew she couldn’t trust just anyone.
@765daysgone || plotted
SHIT SHIT .... SHIT.
how the hell has he gotten himself into this situation? what was he doing out here all alone? oh that’s right he’s gotten himself separated from marlene and the others. not that he had much of a choice. the infected bearing down on them all and with paul’s position he had no choice but to turn around and go the other way. now he’s on his own and has been for weeks, but the firefly is no warrior or fighter. a survivor yes but he’s been able to hide behind the fireflies for so long he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to be alone. truly a mistake on his part.
now the house he’s in is surrounded by runners. they’re banging at the windows and doors. all of paul’s ammo depleted days ago and the melee weapon he’s been counting on will surely break before he’s finished with them all. all he can do is wait for that inevitable moment when they break down the doors knowing someone is in here. or maybe he can pray that something OR SOMEONE else will come by to grab their attention. he’s hid himself in a closet upstairs knowing the rest of the windows are barred too tightly he can’t just climb out the back. he’s trapped in every sense and he’s trying to come to terms with his own morality that will surely come to and end soon.
Ashley Johnson and Troy Baker SINGING!
OOC:
Like This post for a starter.
