Welcome To Hell-IC Thread

This is the incharacter thread, i will post a OOC thread once this is posted. Here is the rules:

1)Act Realistic

2)Don't be a jerk

3)Don't be god/uber

4)Have Fun!
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We are still accepting new people!
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Frank Woods-Goodsprings-Afternoon:


"Cmon man, these are valuable guns! They could blow a deathclaws brain out!" he told a customer.

"Err....Fine, ill take the AR-15." She handed the caps over to Frank, and Frank smiled

"Have a killing day!" that was his store's motto. His cart, pulled by Two Bighorner and a Horse, was behind him. He noticed people, by the thousands, stumbling in the distance

"What the hell..." said someone

"Its either the whole population of Primm got piss drunk, or the Infection got down here...." he started ordering the townspeople to set up defenses and make sure they held the perimeter.

"Bring it on meat bags!" he shouted

Mary

I had just stepped in the Goodsprings General Store and the residents were already whistling and calling my name. I stepped up to a stool right in front of the bartender and asked for some whiskey. The men around me grinned and some even flirted with me. I ignored them, those poor souls, so desperate, so alone. Living in solitude for all their lives. I knew how it felt like. Until I met Mark, who showed me the real meaning of life: living it up to the fullest. But now that he was out of my life, I seem to forget it.

"Here you go, ma'am. One whiskey." the bartender told me. I reached into my pocket for my wallet, but he declined. "It's on the house." Everyone had done that to me some time or another, just because I was beautiful, they thought they could win me over with free drinks and a spot in line. But they were wrong. I would never give them the pleasure of living, that being six, which was all they were looking for. I would accept the offer, but then leave them behind in the dust. Then, suddenly a man came in screaming as if he was being hunted down by a deathclaw. Turned out he was.

"The Infection is assaulting us, get all your ammunition and your ass over to the perimeter." the man in a brown torn cape draqed around his waist warned us. Everyone rushed out of the bar, weapons in hand, while I stayed with the bartender for a few more minutes. He looked concerned and worried, as if he was just hit by a bus. But he hadn't, hordes of zombies were just trying to eat his brains, which was almost as worse as being hit by a bus. He was sweating tears, but he was also sweating real sweat.

"Damn it, I hear those zombies are nearly invulnerable. They'll tear us in half and eat our brains while ripping our clothes off. They're savages." the bartender confessed a story his friend had told him about the zombie attack on Camp Golf. Only 55 troopers and rangers survived the assault, the rest had extremely gory deaths by the hands of the Infection. Although it was not a failure, it wasn't a victory either.

"Well, if that's all true, these weak citizens will need my help. Here's a tip, Randy." I told Randy, leaving him a 32 cap tip. He smiled as I strode out of the bar, and I smiled back. Stepping out of the shop, a few thousand zombies in the distance caught my eye. I grinned, took out my 12. mm sniper, and looked through the scope.

"Looks like this was a bad idea, crazies."

Marcus stood in the ruins of the old school house wondering how his shop would look when it was finished.

"I could set up a workbench over there and maybe a small little ammo bench over there" he said to himself as he looked around the room.

He paced back and forth trying to figure out where everything could fit and what he needed. Suddenly something caught his eye, a small terminal hidden off in the corner of the room. It's sreen was caked with dirt and it was covered with dust, but the screen still glowed a soft green.

"What's this?" he asked himself as he walked over to it and begun to wipe off the years of dirt that had accumulated on its screen. Suddenly a man burst through the door.

"The infection's here! Grab a gun and get out here!" He shouted but Marcus continued to stare at the screen. Marcus began to hack into the computer.

"Hey! Man did you here me!? The infections here get up!" The man shouted again.

"I heard you" Replied Marcus calmly. "Just give me a second to hack in-"

"They're almost here! COME ON!!!" The man screamed before he bolted away.

"Fine fine" Marcus said as he stood up and grabbed his weapons from one of the lockers. He stepped outside to see the horde walking towards the small town. Marcus loaded his Double-Barrel as he stared out at the swarm of shambling undead. Well there goes my plans for a peaceful little shop... he thought as he walked down the hill.

Kaleb Morison

The Mojave is always hot this time of the year. Not that the Mojave wasn’t hot any other time of the year. But this was the time of the year when the creatures of the Mojave retreated to their burrows to avoid the blazing midday sun. This was the time when travelling in the middle of the day was much safer than at night. That is, if you were willing to run the very real risk of death by dehydration and starvation.

This was the perfect time for Kaleb to test out his prototype Lower-Body Exoskeleton System, LoBExS for short. The low chance of running into a denizen of the Mojave meant that if the system were to break down, he would have the time and relative peace of mind to effect repairs or pack up the system if he couldn’t fix it.

The quiet whine of servos marked Kaleb’s ascent up the hillside. The sloshing of a half-filled gallon bottle of water and the clanging of eighty pounds of scrap metal echoed across the barren wasteland. Each step sunk deep into the dirt, dislodging the debris-strewn hillside, rubble cascading down the hillside like small avalanches. Kaleb muttered quietly under his breath, cursing whoever had designed power armor boots. Granted that the boots suited his experiment’s needs for weight-bearing footwear, but they were by no means comfortable. I have no idea how the Brotherhood of Steel can stand walking around in these all day, he thought.

Finally, Kaleb crested the top of the hill, his breathing heavy. Even with power-assist servos and stabilizing gyroscopes, trudging across the Mojave isn’t easy. At least the LoBExS is holding up to the punishment, he mulled as he took a swig from his water bottle. He surveyed his surroundings. The barricades that marked the perimeter of Goodsprings loomed off in the distance. There didn’t appear to be any wild creatures between him and the town, of which he was grateful. Kaleb looked back the way he came; the hill looked steep from his view, and had no wish to repeat the climb.

He then noticed a growing dust cloud off in the horizon. He was puzzled by this occurrence. The dust storm season would not be for at least a few weeks. And the only thing that could create a dust storm of comparable size is a sizeable herd of Brahmin. But there were no Brahmin herds in this area of the Mojave. Well, there is one other thing that can cause that, he thought idly. The thought struck him strongly, his apprehension growing with every second.

Quickly stowing his water bottle, Kaleb jogged down the reverse slope and headed for the town. Though the LoBExS was not yet tested for fast movement, he had no choice but to run. He’d rather risk damaging the system than be caught by the approaching horde of Infected.

Frank Woods-Goodsprings-Afternoon:

The zombies scaled the walls the townspeople had set up, they were no match for these zombies.

"[censored]K!" Frank screamed as he opened fire into the Zombie horde as he pulled himself into the Prospector Saloon. He, and a few other people were huddled inside it.

"Where the hell is a hatch to the roof?" she demanded

"Its up here!" the bartender pulled down the ladder leading to the roof

"Sweet!" he, and two townspeople were up on the roof. He threw a Molotov Cocktail into the Zombie Horde, sending them into a fiery inferno. One of the people slipped off the roof, and fell into the horde

"NOOO" screamed a woman, who must have been his wife or girlfriend. She jumped off the roof, into the horde

"Suicidal bastards." he said as he shot into the horde. He scored headshots on a few of them, killing them instantly.

Aiden Park

The sands of the Mojave whipped around the large town of Goodsprings. As the town itself grew, so did its people and all that was closely observed by the New Star Mafia. Finally, after such a long time and the complete takeover of the Mojave Branch, the New Star Mafia was ready to begin its move. Only 160 members but almost every citizen of a town in the Mojave owes the New Star a favour, making them members themselves.

Aiden smirked as he walked around Goodsprings, completely surrounded by New Star Mafia guards. A few eyes were attracted but most kept to themselves. One wrong look meant being riddled with .22 caliber bullets.

Although Freeside was very much unaffected by The Infection due to a joint work by the Followers, Kings, and New Star Militia, most of the Mojave was consumed. And that showed by New Star Mafia leaders showing up near the west side of New Vegas.

Aiden's convoy went to the Goodsprings General Store. One of the store owners nervously looked at him before speaking. "Don Park! What are you doing here?"

Evie clung to Aiden's arm nervously. "Today is the day you return that favour you owe me. I want you to sell guns and medical supplies at a discount price for New Star soldiers and Goodsprings militia. We're at one of the worst positions in the Infection so I want Goodsprings to thrive. Don't worry, new supplies from the New Star Militia will be coming in."

The store owner nodded vigorously. Aiden smirked again before heading out and surveying the front lines area. He handed Evie his medical kit. "Evie, you go tend to the wounded, I'll work on the zombies today," Aiden ordered as he kissed Evie and left.

Right on time too. A hoard of Infected started to appear on the horizon. Aiden mounted his Sniper Rifle and turned to two New Star Mafia members. "Make sure to shoot 'em in the head," He whispered. Aiden turned to the scope and started to snipe infected.

Soon, as the battle kept going, the zombies started to scale the wall. He heard somebody yell a profanity before all the New Star Mafia members started to fall back towards the Saloon. All twenty New Star Mafia members started to form barricades inside while others went to the roof.

OOC:Zerker, the survivors were all holed up in the Saloon.

OOC: Alright, changed.

Kaleb Morison

Kaleb's first inclination that something was wrong was that nobody manned the barricades. Approaching slowly, he saw that a section of wall had been torn down. The gap was wide enough for five people walking abriast. He could smell the gunpowder and taste the metallic tang of ionized air. Sprinting through the gap, Kaleb was greeted by a scene of grisly carnage. Bodies were strewn across the inner yard; limbs still clutching weapons littered the area. Blood and viscera soaked into the sandy soil, turning the ground into a gory mire. Spent shell casings and discarded energy cells were scattered across the area. He saw splintered flakboard, corrugated sheet metal, and mud brick in the inner yard, suggesting something had battered through the wall from the outside.

Kaleb headed towards a large, red painted building. Crouching in the building’s shadow, he drew his 10mm SMG from its holster, loaded a magazine and racked the bolt. He was preparing to sprint to the adjacent building when he heard gunfire reverberating in the air. Peeking around the corner, he saw a mob of the Infected surrounding a pair of structures. The overwhelming stench of rotting flesh wafted to his position. Based on the buildings’ worn signage, they were the Goodsprings Saloon and General Store. Indistinct figures were on the roof, taking potshots at the milling crowd below.

Kaleb pondered his situation. The people at the saloon and store seemed to be holding off the Infected. Getting past the thronging masses would be a daunting prospect, not to mention figuring out how to get inside the buildings. And what would stop those people from mistaking him as an Infected and taking a shot at his head? No, better he find a building to hole up in for now rather than running the zombie gauntlet.

Kaleb looked through one of the red building’s windows, scanning the inside for any signs of the Infected. Seeing no movement, he headed for the door, moving the SMG to his offhand and drawing his machete gladius from its backpack sheathe. With one servo-assisted kick, the door crashed open and Kaleb stormed inside.

Frank Woods-Saloon-Late Afternoon:

Frank, after the first wave of the horde was killed off. He climbed down the ladder, and saw the people crowded in the Saloon. He saw crying children, sobbing women, and men trying to comprehend what happened. He saw a four men standing around, armed. Three of them looked like they were New Star Mafia, the other looked like some crazy in a armor.

"Who the hell are you people? And more importantly, how'd you get here?" he demanded

Mary

After the first horde was killed off, I ran inside to watch the survivors all crowded and huddled up inside the small Saloon. They were children, women, and dogs. Many people were sobbing, especially the men. I found that rather funny, but the possibility that another horde of ferocious killers would come in through the door of the Saloon made the snicker fade. There was a man in the center of the Saloon, Frank Woods, the famous- better known as infamous- weapons trader. He was glaring into everyone's eyes, as if trying to control their minds. He looked at the children, sobbing men, and women all huddled up in the bar. But then three armored men standing tall above the rest, armed, caught his eye.

"Who the hell are you people? And more importantly, how'd you get here?" he asked them. The three men stared into his eyes, ready to respond.

Lyn - Prospecter Saloon

Lyn sat in the saloon, seeming relatively calm amongst the panic and fear of the rest of residents. As the sound of gunshots started, Lyn casually made her way to the roof. She sighted up her marksman carbine, quickly picking off one infected to the next. Most of the shots were to the head, but a few of the shots hit a shoulder or chest. Her clip ran out soon, and without a spare clip, she was forced to switch to her pistol. Her aim with the 10mm pistol was much less accurate, so she took much more time to aim. By the time a few rounds went off, most of the infected had been cleared. She ejected the clip of her pistol, and replaced the rounds that had been fired. She then holstered the pistol, and began working on the carbine clip. Once that was done, she went back to the saloon to order a shot of whiskey and listen in on the conversations of the bar.

Clint

Clint was having lunch with his parents when they heard the screaming.

‘’What the hell is that? Someone got drunk again?’’ Clints dad asked.
‘’I don’t know Pa, sounds pretty serious. Maybe someone’s in danger!’’
‘’That’s my son! Always looking for ways to make himself useful.’’
‘’I’m going to see what’s going on. Stay here!’’
Clint grabbed his guns and rushed outside, confused. Goodsprings is the calmest place on earth! Nothing ever happens here. What could possibly...

Big hordes of zombies. Coming our way. Danger. Death... My parents!

‘’MOM! DAD! We gotta leave this house! We have to go somewhere safe!’’
‘’Son, what could possibly...’’
‘’GO!’’

Clint dragged his parents outside while shooting some 10mm bullets at the zombies. He got a lot of lucky headshots, but not enough. Just enough to save himself. One of the zombies slipped past his eye. The zombie was far ahead of the others. Unseen by Clint the zombie attacked Clints parents. He heard his mother screaming for help, his dad fighting for his life. He turned around.

Dead bodies. Blood that slowly dripped from their corpses. Their faces mutilated beyond recognition. Their limbs ripped of the torsos. Such an disrespectful death. Make them pay.

Make them pay!

Clint drawed his 10mm submachinegun, shooting at the zombies head until it exploded. He shot the zombies that were rushing towards him and each and every single one of them fell down like ragdolls. When he was out of ammo he took out his combat knife. Blood covered Clint’s face and clothes. He didn’t see anything but blood-red, but somehow, after a couple of minutes, the horde was dead. Around him were corpses.

He heard the screaming again, the same screaming he had heard when he was in his house. He went to his house, got some supplies; Food, water, ammo, binoculars. And he ran to the saloon.

Marcus sat on the roof of an abandoned home firing into the small crowd of zombies that had managed to block off his route to the Saloon. He glanced up at The Pioneer Saloon spotting a much larger crowd then the one that had him trapped on the roof. Good thing I didn't try to run up there I might have gotten caught in that horde! He thought to himself as he switched to his crossbow and continued firing at the angry crowd beneath him. It didn't take long for the survivors at the Saloon to kill off the zombies. Marcus finished off his own small horde shortly after.

"I need a cup of coffee..." He said to himself as he jumped off the roof and headed towards the Saloon.

Kaleb Morison

Kaleb was sitting on the grimy, tiled floor, his back against the metal lockers. He was cleaning the right knee servo, removing globs of soiled grease and applying fresh lubricant. His backpack was laid by his feet, stormchaser hat set on top. His duster hung over the nearby window, serving as an impromptu curtain to prevent the Infected from seeing inside. Gunfire echoed outside: the Infected were still out there. It had been sporadic, but consistent ever since he had taken refuge inside the red building.

He took a quick glance around the room. He had initially assumed this building was the town schoolhouse when he saw school desks, blackboards, and child-sized lockers upon his dramatic entrance. After quickly securing the place, he realized his assumptions were wrong. A bedroll was placed on the ground towards the side of the room, personal items scattered around its vicinity. A half-eaten can of Cram sat on a nearby desk, perched perilously on the edge . Assorted tools and electronic components lay scattered across a counter that dominated the back of the room, a dust covered terminal sitting on the far corner. A broken Protectron stood at the corner opposite the front door, the building's silent guardian.

This was somebody’s home. Wherever they were, Kaleb hoped they were doing better than he was at the moment.

Kaleb replaced the servo’s cover and repowered the LoBExS. Taking a few tentative steps, he was relieved to hear no grinding sounds coming from the joint. Sitting back down, he reached into the backpack and took out a stick of jerky. Taking a bite, he wondered what to do if he had to stay there any longer.

Suddenly, he stopped chewing. Something was different. It wasn’t the jerky: Ruby Nash knew how to make road food. No, it was something else. Then it hit him: the gunfire had stopped. Crouch walking to the window, he took a peek outside.

He didn’t see any of the Infected outside. At least, none that were left standing: bodies littered the area around the Saloon. He scanned the roof, and didn’t see anyone. Thinking that the Infected somehow got inside, he looked at the doors and windows and saw they were still secure. Well, round one goes to Goodsprings. I guess this is the chance I’ve been waiting for.

Wearing his duster and hat, he shouldered the backpack and walked to the door. SMG in hand, Kaleb stepped outside and headed for the Saloon.

Guys, im actually going to end this RP, im just not that interested with the Zombie Theme.

*facepalm*

Gah noooo, my work........