Zombie RP

[Marquis 9]

A zombie plague has struck the U.S. Other countries, such as Mexico and Canada have quarantined the U.S., making sure that there is no possibility for the zombies to break through. You have the unfortunate displeasure of being trapped in the U.S. with no way to leave. What will you do?

Name:

Age:

Location:

Quick Backstory:

Name: Luke Macpherson

Age: 19

Location: Portland, Oregon

Quick Backstory: Luke had only recently gotten out of highschool, living in a cheap apartment. He had been planning to make his living by writing books. He had already started one, he just needed a name for it. But before he knew it, his apartment complex was overridden by zombies. He panicked. He didn't know what he should've done. He decided to act quick. He grabbed his book, some food, some other valuable possessions, got in his car and left.

[Otis McNutt 395]

Name: Mark Hoffman

Age:27

Location: Trenton Connecticut

Quick Backstory: When one thinks about Gang territory, it's easy to overlook a sleepy little town like Trenton, but that's exactly what the T-Boyz want you to think. For 18 year old Mark Hoffman, graduating from Highschool meant two things working at the Marbel Quarry or running Meth for the T-Boyz. Mark chose the latter. In time he rose to a pretty high rank in the T-Boyz. One night after some drinking Mark and his crew hit a convenience store. In a drunken haze Mark killed the store owner.

He was sentenced to 20 years in prison. When the outbreak happened Mark and the other cons were left to die by the guards. But Mark fought his way out and swore to change his life.

[Marquis 9]

Luke was rummaging through the 7-11, filling plastic bags with all different sorts of things. He was making sure he could keep his car stocked and fueled. In the back seat, he kept all kinds of food and drink, and in his trunk he kept five gas cans, for emergency refill.

The main food he bought was jerky. Not just because he loved it, but the zombies also loved it. It would be helpful if he ever needed a distraction.

Luke kept looking around, when he went into the back room. He found a disturbing scene.

The store clerk apparently couldn't go on. Blood was splattered on the wall, a gun was on the floor and there was a hole in his head.

Luke shook his head. If he was dying, he was dying on his terms.

Luke went outside and shoved everything else he had gotten into the car, and of course he made sure to get double A batteries. It was how he searched for people.

Luke made sure to get some walkie-talkies, and he leaves the channel scanner on while he drives around. Just in case someone else might be smart enough to figure that out.

Luke turned the keys and started the car. He sighed, then pressed down on the gas pedal to continue his search.

[Otis McNutt 395]

With a large black duffel drapped across his back, Mark hoofed it into a small town.

"Welcome to...." a sign read, the bottom half obscured by black spraypaint.

It took a lot of strength to fight his way out of Newgate Prison. As he was cooling his heels in the Hole the guards got out of dodge, luckly one of them dropped his cell key in the chow slot.

Mark saw the key glittering in the darkness, illuminated by a small shaft of daylight. He emerged into a sea of panic, a group of "them" had breached the fence and began to turn the prison population. Making his way to the Armory Mark stocked up on whatever he could find which wasn't much.

Riot Pads, Helmet, Gloves, Three tear gas grenades, two 9mm hand guns with two boxes ammo, riot shotgun with 20 beanbag rounds, three canisters Mace and two tazers with fresh batteries and six refill spools. He slipped off his prison orange for a pair of jeans and black T-shirt from the hold items storage.

"It's hard to believe it was only two weeks ago!" Mark said to himself as he made his way to a small store. The security gates were down and the back door was intact.

"Looks good here." he said.

[Marquis 9]

Luke just kept on driving. By now, he was probably in Idaho.

He had a bag of some jerky, and a can of Dr. Pepper. Since the convenience store, hes run into two zombies. One, he just ran over. The other jumped on the car and started to claw at the top. Luke had to come to an immediate stop to get it to fly off, then he drove forward and crushed it.

The United States really has become a desolate wasteland. The only evidence he found of anybody was a campfire out in the middle of nowhere, made out of corpses, that was still a little hot. He didn't know whether it was made by the zombies or not, but his guess was that it was other humans.

He just kept driving. Still deep in his thoughts. He made sure to drink lots of caffeinated drinks, so he could stay awake for a very long time. But whenever he looks into a mirror, there are dark circles around his eyes.

He didn't know where he was trying to go. He just figured that he would feel a little better if he knew it wasn't just him left.

Thats when he saw it. Very far off, a thin streak of smoke. His eyes widened, then he slammed on the gas pedal.

[Otis McNutt 395]

Mark grabbed the small crowbar he took from the bike a forced the door open. The weathred wood easily crumbled under the force of the carbon steel level.

Inside he quickly closed the door behind him and using a padlock, closed the door. The inside was dark, the only light coming from battery powered emergency lights which were almost dead.

He pulled a 9mm handgun from his waistband and switched on the barrel mounted flashlight. As he inched further into the building he could smell a putrid scent, a display stand of apples had begun to decay into a brown pulpy mess.

Looking around he was amazed, nobody had looted here. Perhaps the store was closed that day.

As Mark scanned the isles his Grandpa's words flooded into his memory. "Not to much, just take what you need to survive!"

Mark grabbed a dozen cans of Starkist Tuna (in oil), peanut butter, crackers, cured meat, and a dozen pack of instant mashed potatos as well as water, toilet paper and antibacterial soap. Before he left he grabbed some batteries for his flashlights, radio and some refils for his first aid kit.

[Anon 0]

Name: Jack "Thor" Thompson

Age: 25

Location: Hobokin,New Jersy

Backstory: Jack Thompson was always tough, he was the guy no one messed with out of fear of angry retribution. At 6ft7in and 257lbs of raw muscle he was an intimidating figure with knowledge of boxing, military cqc, and greeco-roman wrestling techniques he was an able fighter and using his knowledge and taking a motif from both comic books and Norse myth, he became a wrestler known as "Thor the Thunderer". However his career has been cut short by a zombie outbreak. When preparing for a match in Hobokin,NJ zombies attacked the arena and Thor was able to fight his way out with his strength, combat expertise, and the steel hammer he carried as a prop.

His old name worthless to him Thor carried on from the bloodied zombie-filled madness in the arena wearing a grey t-shirt, black jeans, brown leather wristbands, and the fur covered boots, and vest that used to be half of his costume, and carried the steel hammer that had once been a prop but now was one of the keys to his survival. He found a weapons store that was called the Kniffe shoppe, and went inside and grabbed a shotgun, two 9mm pistols, one 5mm handcannon, a broadsword, and all the ammo he could carry without slowing himself down. Thor decided that he would try to survive, he would try to find others, and if he was going to die he was going to take as many zombies as he could down with him.

[Anon 0]

Thor walked down the street holding his hammer in one hand in case something got close or snuck up on him and one of his new 9mm pistols in the other using it to shoot anything that showed any hostile intent. The main purpose of this walk was to find an operational vehicle which so far has only resulted in the killing of five zombies of which thankfully only one was able to get close enough to require the use of the hammer. Continuing down the street Thor began to think to himself. " And I thought Hobokin was a hole before, now it's a hole filled with fricken zombies." He walked for another five minutes, shooting three more zombies, and finally found a motorcycle."Crap that looks like it works but I don't have the keys." a second later a large zombie clad in a leather jacket and a horned helmet obviously belonging to a biker gang apeared, however before hecould get close enough to be a threat Thor dropped his hammer and pulled out his 5mm hand cannon and blasted a hole the size of his head in the zombie's chest and for good measure took the sword he had aquired in the Kniffe Shoppe and used it to chop the zombie's head off. Thankfully as the zombie's clothing and vicinity to it had indicated it was the former owner of the motorcycle and had the keys in it's pocket and taking the zombie's horned helmet and snikering at the irony of a horned helmet being worn by a man whose nickname/wrestling motif came from a norse god, and drove off planning to go south to kentucky.

[amaterasu 0]

Name: Amaterasu

Age: 15

Location: Boston MA

Quick Backstory: Amaterasu loved riding horses when she was little. She often rode them and was riding when she heard of the zombie outbreak. Knowing she wouldn't be able to keep her horses, she set them free. They were pretty much stalions anway. Clearing the house of all food, water, beverages, and a little bit of her clothes, she tossed it all in her mom's car. Everybody in her family except for a small cat named Tory was infected. Tory often just sat on Amaterasu's shoulder like a parrot, and was as obident as a golden retriever.

Troy meowed at Amaterasu, causing her to swerve a little. Didn't matter anyway. "I know your hungry Troy. Just hold on a little longer. We have to ration all that we can." She too was pretty hungry, but didn't risk eating anything. About an hour later she finnaly decided to split some crackers with the cat. Opening a bottle of water, she poured some into a small dish for Troy and took a sip from the bottle. While she wasn't paying attention, somebody had walked out into the road. They weren't green or anything, and they were realitivly clean. Grabbing Troy and slamming on the brakes, Amaterasu pulled up next to the person and looked at them closely through the passenger window. "HELP! HELP!" The man screamed, pointing to a festering wound on his shoulder that seemed to slowly creep up to his neck. "Ew." Ammy said. Backing up, she got a good 2 miles away, then floored it, hitting the person and sending him flying. With a smirk, she drove at a nice steady pace, keeping a close eye out for any survivors.