Saturday, August 13, 2016

RP pt.2 A walk amongst the Dead

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This is a Role Play I am currently working on for the Bloodletting game. I play both characters involved. They have a love/hate relationship pretty much. If you are interested in seeing just what the Bloodletting RPG is all about, check it out at Bloodletting.org.  
If you decide you want to sign up and feel like getting one of my characters a little bank for it, use the following links:
(Addison) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=149254
(Genesis) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=151855

Keep in mind, Genesis is a Lycan, and Addison is a Slayer, though was a former vampire. She’s the weird one of the two.

Part Two:

Genesis:
Genesis winced when Addison yelled about the smell of the place. Great. Sound drew these things, and here the little idiot was, screaming and ranting. She wanted to smack her crewmate in the head. Well, she always wanted to do that, but this was a justifiable reason.

As the dead thing approached and Addison moved to her feet, pulling out the creepy black sword of hers, Genesis took a step away. She didn’t want to accidentally touch it. She knew what it did to people.

She then shot a look of complete annoyance to Addison for her comments.

“Someone, whoever brought and dumped us here, took my weapons. All of them. Even found my hidden ones.” She said, her eyes scanning for higher ground. “And no, I cannot shift into my Crinos form. Gods, do you ever think things through?” She snarled.

She grabbed Addison by the back of her shirt, slowly leading the dark haired woman back with her, her eyes still taking in the structure of the building to find a defensive position.

“I can’t shift. These are zombies. I can’t bite or scratch at them. They are infected, be it viral, bacterial or even fungal. Me biting into them is sealing my own death…well…at least to become one in their ranks. And with no weapons, come on, let’s face it, I am the weaker of the two of us here.” She growled the last bit, completely disgusted at having to rely on Addison in any way.

Her foot kicked something that rolled and glimmered faintly. Genesis inspected the item, wary of picking it up. She could use it, however. A long piece of pipe, about the length of a baseball bat. Upon further inspection, she found signs that someone had already used it in the precise manner that she had planned. As a weapon against these things. A good smash in the head to splatter their brains.

This discovery only led to more questions in her head. Was this some sort of ‘proving ground’? Were people dropped here to feed the zombies? Were they here for someone else’s entertainment? Like an old gladiator tournament with the reanimated, hungry corpses?

If that was the case, someone was watching somewhere…her hazel eyes scanned for cameras. She didn’t see any obvious ones. No little blinking record lights. No newer or out of place looking wiring.

The moans of the dead were getting closer, however. She had to turn her attention back to them. The numbers were gaining.

“Okay Addison. You at least have your sword. I have a pipe. From what I gather, we are not the first to be dumped here like this. Now this poses the question as to who wanted this, why, and …why us? I mean, were we random, or chosen?”

The first of the zombies neared her and she swung the steel pipe like a baseball bat with all her might. A sharp metallic clang knocked the head off the dead thing. It not only knocked the head off, it dented it, warping the brittle bone, weathered skin and greyish black brain and blood over the end of the pipe. Genesis had to shake it off before sizing up her next zombie.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Addison was having no problem. It was even slightly disturbing that the other woman was smiling and singing a song of some sort…


Addison:
Cold blows the wind to my true love,
And gently falls the rain.
I never had but one true love,
And in greenwood he lies slain.

Addison swung her sword with skilled precision. Each arch, each sweep of the blade sung in her hand. Quite literally. The black blade pulsed with a tune only Addison could hear, and with it, she sang along merrily. It was a morbid little tune, but Addison sang it beautifully amidst the splattering of zombie flesh and bone.

I’ll do as much for my true love
As any a young girl may.
I’ll sit and mourn all on his grave
For twelve months and a day.

She watched out for Genesis, who, for not having any of her favorite toys, all her wonderful little guns, was doing a smash up job, literally, with the old piece of pipe she had found. The questions Genesis had posed to her were interesting ones, indeed. Who wanted them here? Was this a planned event for the two crewmates? A test of skills? An execution? Addison snorted. It would take more than zombies to bring her down.

And when twelve months and a day had passed,
The ghost did rise and speak,
“Why do you sit all on my grave
And will not let me sleep?”

Addison raised her sword high, bringing it directly down the middle of a zombies head. The frighteningly sharp blade slicing in and back out again with ease, like a hot knife through butter. She took note that Genesis was looking for higher ground. Probably a good idea, since she only had the steel pipe.

‘Tis I, ’tis I, thine own true love
That sits all on your grave
I ask one kiss from your sweet lips
And that is all that I crave.

The zombies seemed to be coming in from one direction of the warehouse. How they were getting in, Addison didn’t know. Nor did she know how many. All she knew for certain, was that the bodies were starting to pile up, and it reeked to high hell in the place. And the noise. While she and wolf-girl were quiet, well, other than her singing, the zombies seemed to focus in on the chorus of their own. How many more would be joining this party?

My breast is cold as the clay;
My breath is earthly strong.
And if you kiss my cold, clay lips,
You’re days will not be long.

Suddenly a zombie was charging her. This one was fast. It didn’t lumber like the others. Fresh. A fresh made zombie. They were usually pretty spry. Addison swung her blade upward, decapitating the foul thing, and though its body crumpled on the spot, its head was still very much active. Its slimy teeth and dead eyes locking on to Addison, mouth chomping at her. She sunk the tip of her blade cleanly through one of its blue-grey eyes.

Go fetch me water from the desert sand
And blood from out the stone.
Go fetch me milk from a fair maid’s breast
That young man has never known

She upped her awareness. One fast zombie only meant more would come. This seemed to be a grab-bag mix of the reanimated. She hoped one of the faster ones didn’t make it past her. Genesis wouldn’t have too great of odds with just the steel pipe. A freshly made zombie had hard bones, tough skin. And were much more avid in the endeavors to eat the flesh of the living.

How oft on yonder grave, Sweetheart
Where we were wont to walk—
The fairest flower that I e’re saw
Has withered to a stalk.

She inched her way closer to wolf-girls position. For any animosity between them, it would look pretty poorly if she let the other woman get eaten. Fun to watch, perhaps. But poor form, indeed. She took her eyes off the coming zombies for just a moment, to help Genesis find higher ground. They needed a chance to formulate a plan of some sort. If she were alone, Addison would have just ‘seat of the pants’ed it.

When shall we meet again, sweetheart?
When shall we meet again?
When the oaken leaves that fall from the trees
Are green and spring up again.

Addison concluded her song when the blade did. She gave a bow to the oncoming zombies, all slower moving ones it seemed, and turned to Genesis. They had managed to put a good bit of distance between themselves and the dead things. Addison indicated with a nod of her head to Genesis.

“I think I’ve found you some high ground. If it will hold us…” She said, motioning to a suspended platform. She grabbed the other woman’s arm and made way for the platforms broken stairs. She looked to Genesis with a smarmy smile. “So, how does it feel to be nearly useless?”

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