First things first The plot line is pretty simple. A flu broke out, killing %98 of the worlds population and reanimating their bodies with a primal need; to eat YOU. Now you must survive under any means necessary.

Now, I'm hoping to keep this starting post really simple so we can jump right into writing. All I ask is that you reply with a decent post. Something we all can work with. I'm not down for a small paragraph that tells next to nothing. That causes a chain of tiny replies. I guess you should consider yourself literate(if you guys even still use that term, I haven't RPed in years). Hopefully my intro will give you an idea of the type of stuff I'm looking for. Of course you don't have to post anything that long, but I'm hoping you get the basic idea.

I'm dusting off cobwebs, so bare with me guys!

Also, just to let everyone know; you do not have to post a character sheet type thing. I have no problem figuring out your characters as you unfold them in the story. I never really do unless the creator of the RP requires it. Each character I create is based and revolves around each RP I do. Example: Liam and Ryan in this RP will die with this RP. As sad as that sounds.

Maturity Blood. Killing. Violence. Foil language. All that jazz.

Let's get started. Shall we?

They entered a small town that was all but abandoned keeping to the edges of the trees just out of sight in the growing shadows. It was just the two of them left, not that they were necessarily part of a group before. They were all they had in what was left of this decaying world and he needed to take care of her. Liam' eyes scanned the streets, analyzing as if it were a potential battlefield. He began forming a path that was safe enough for the two of them to take without being seen by dead eyes. The timing needed to be exactly right if he was going to get them through the open and into a safe place and without being noticed. Ryan's stomach complained from it's hiding place behind Liam. He ignored the noise as he continued to survey the area. The dead meandered around aimlessly, forever searching for the next meal. He noticed a few shambled past a small ma and pa store front. It was the closest thing to them and it seemed to be somewhat secure from what Liam could gather lurking out in the shadows. They badly needed supplies and whatever food they would be able to find. It had been almost a week since they had eaten anything but small animals and a few berries, and that was only due to Liam. He took care of the both of them ever since he found her huddled in the bathroom of a home he was searching through.

Ryan reminded him of his younger sister, Andrea. He wouldn't dare call her weak, but she was timid and shy. She kept to herself most days and only had a select group of friends. Andrea didn't make it when the flu broke out, she was only twelve. She didn't need or even want the vaccine; she hated needles and shots. She was perfectly healthy but he made her go, promising he would go with her and get one, too. He thought he was preventing her from getting sick, keeping her healthy. It took her less than a week to contract what was killing everyone and once she finally passed it took less than ninety seconds for her to come back. But it wasn't Andrea anymore. She growled and made noises he had never heard anyone make, blackened blood, thick and sticky, oozed out of her nose and mouth. Her eyes were still glazed from death and when she lunged on him her skin was still cold. Her skin was deathly pale with bruise like blotches all over.

That was Liam' first brush with the end. He had managed to escape the city with a pack of supplies quickly thrown together with a few of his collected knives from home.

When the path was clear he turned to Ryan, putting his hands gently on her shoulders. "We have to get to that store." He looked in her eyes and could see the fear that was bubbling up to the surface. Ryan hadn't done so well on her own before. "You know what we need, but I'll just be a few steps away once we get inside." He reached to her hip and pulled the knife from the hilt and placed it in her hands. She nodded, telling him that she understood. He gave her one last reassuring look before he turned and began to quietly move over the dead leaves and branches, careful not to step on any that might make any noise.

The trip to the store was slow but that's how it needed to be. They hid behind every car to make sure the next few feet were clear and out of eyesight. Ryan's breath was beginning to quicken the closer to the store they got. She personally hated the world they lived in now, not implying anyone left was loving it either. She never knew if she was going to die just beyond the next doorway she passed through, or if she would be left alone again. Ryan had gotten lucky when Liam found her, extremely lucky. Even though he was alive, he could have left her there, cowering in a bathroom locked away from the dead downstairs that wondered in search of her. She had been there for days before he found her. He convinced her to leave the small cell, convinced her he would take care of her and teach her the things she needed to know to survive. When she finally agreed to go with him she remembered the faintest of smiles and handed her a knife he pulled from his pack. "We need each other."

It had been several months since Liam found her, and now she was on the constant move. To stay stationary would promise death. Zombies never stopped moving, so neither should the living. That's what Liam always told her when she didn't want to travel anymore, but he was right. He always was.

Now they were upon the store front and she turned her back to him as he opened the door to take a look inside. The first thing Liam had taught her was that when one's back was turned, the other had to stand watch, and that's exactly what she did. She never knew if she would be useful or not, but she did as she was told anyway. Ryan thought of herself as weak and more of a dependent than anyone that could be useful. Self confidence was never her highest quality before everything. So why should it be any different now? She thought to herself.

Before passing through the glass door of the store Liam took one quick look over his shoulder to see Ryan now standing with her back to him and her knife up in a defensive stance. He couldn't help but be a little proud of the girl. She had only been with him three months but she learned quickly, even if she didn't think so herself. He had soaked up the opportunities when it was clear and they were momentarily safe to teach her to fight and defend herself. Not only from the dead, but anyone that thought they needed something from her she could do without, in life or death.

Placing a hand on the glass, he pushed it open and stepped carefully inside. With a butterfly knife expertly held in his right hand he took notice of the lack of walking dead on the inside. He didn't say a word, barely dared to move but he had to get Ryan. With one swift movement he exited the store, place a hand on Ryan's shoulder and put a finger to his lips, telling her to come inside but to stay quiet and keep her weapon out and ready. When both were safely inside he tapped his blade on the counter, calling the attention of anything that may be lingering inside. When nothing showed itself to them he turned to Ryan, "It seems like we are all clear for the night."

(Let's see where this goes!)

Phenomenal, just phenomenal. Finnegan kicked aside a bit of newspaper and stooped down to pick up his treasure. An unopened can of wet dog food.

“It’s your lucky day, Boyo.”

The dog at Finnegan’s side wagged his tail and licked at his partner’s hand appreciatively. It was strange now the sort of things that excited him when compared to before the outbreak. A young man in his mid-twenties, Finnegan was a student before the undead flu epidemic ravaged the land. He had been studying veterinary medicine at a prestigious college. Good grades, extensions on assignments, free weekends, rave parties, all the like used to thrill him- certainly not a single can of pet chow. Still, one must take joy in the little things or there would be no joy at all left in the world. Finn always was an optimist, and Boyo helped keep up his spirits.

He settled down amid the barren shelves in the small convenience store. Places like this had more often than not already been cleared out, hit early on when people began to riot and rampage. The survivors of the plague had picked over the rest, gathering the valuable supplies for their own means. Still, Finn hadn’t expected much when he arrived at the store. He wanted a relatively secure place to stay for the night. He had yet to secure the exits, distracted by his exceptionally rare find. It didn’t seem like there was anything else nearby, just trash and empty containers.

Stowing the can away in his backpack, Finnegan walked to the backdoor of the establishment and took a few minutes to set a simple alert trap. Anyone who came through the unlocked door would cause a tincan to jangle loud enough for him to hear, or at least Boyo would. Simple but effective enough that he could be on his way out before anyone knew he was there. Finn was not strong or tough by any standards, but he was exceptionally fast and rather sneaky if need be. Even with a medium sized dog always trailing behind he was good at avoiding trouble. The handgun at his hip was a last resort, a secondary weapon to the machete on his other side. Both ranged and melee weapons were essential, he couldn’t run all the time.

“Shit.” Finnegan hissed under his breath, pausing in the threshold of the backroom of the store. Hiding behind the wall just out of sight, Finn held his foot out to stop Boyo from going any further. The dog understood the signal and kept his pointed ears erect. Finn peaked out just enough to see two people enter the store, a young man about his age with a little girl following behind. Finn glanced toward the exit closest to him, debating on whether or not he wanted to bolt even though it would trigger his trap. He doubted the two would come after him, but he had spotted a few walkers lurking in the back alley. A loud tap from the brunt of a knife snapped him into a decision.

Drawing his fully-loaded pistol, Finnegan stepped out from the backroom with the gun pointed at the intruders. He was a scrawny bloke, the regular lack of food did nothing to improve his physique even though he was constantly on the move. Pale face flecked with sweat, Finn had a head of rusty reddish brown hair trimmed short with the help of his boot knife. He wore a folded bandana loosely around his neck and simple survival attire, suited perfectly for his love of running and jumping. He eyed the two as Boyo arrived at his side, putting on his best intimidation stance with bared fangs and all. After a tense moment, he lowered the pistol and the dog stopped growling.

“Easy now, just a precaution. My name’s Finnegan and I call this lovable beast Boyo.” The man spoke with the slightest tinge of an Irish accent, obviously born in America with immigrant parents. “We’re alone, not to worry.” Finn holstered his gun and took a few steps closer to the pair, brother and sister perhaps? The man certainly wasn’t bad to look at, a welcome sight after spending the past several months with a dog as his constant companion. “Let’s observe an old tradition, shall we?” He extended his hand in a gesture of peace. Boyo wagged his tail, trying hard to appear friendly after his earlier display of dominance.

OoC// Quick question before I start. Are these zombies the tranditional slow, shambling zombies, or the "28 days later" kind of sprinting, flailing crazies?

Occ// Can anyone join? and do the posst have to be as long as yours? I can do paragraphs but not multii paragraphs.

ooc; I'm so sorry I've been absent from this post!! I swear I'm not usually neglectful! Yes, they are the traditional zombies. Although, the 'fresher' ones, or the ones that appear to have had a bit of stamina in life and aren't too decomposed could be slightly faster. They don't have to be as long as mine, but a decent length is preferred. I personally find it hard to reply to a paragraph because 7/10 times a single paragraph doesn't hold much content to go off of.

OoC// Hm, alright. That somewhat changes my introduction.

I will edit this post later with my intro after some thinking!

He bowled through an empty shelf in the middle of a hardware store, his hands wrapped around the throat of a zombie. Rourke looked around frantically for the hand axe he dropped, instead he found the Mosin Nagant he carried close, the near footlong bayonet still attached. The bayonet was for zombies, the ammuntion for hostile people.

He worked his knees under the zombie, then curled up further, placing his boots on the zombie's stomach, and kicked out with both feet, sending the zombie sailing away. He scrambled on his hands and knees for the rifle, and when he grabbed it, lunged across the floor, driving the bayonet into the back of the undead's head. With that, it could finally rest, but he couldn't. The shambling sacks of rotting flesh heard the noise, and were flooding the store. He grabbed his backpack, full of ammo for his rifle, and some provisions. He also grabbed a somewhat heavy hand axe, the perfect tool. Good for hammering things, cutting wood and splitting skulls of both the living and dead.

Rourke Mcminn had been on leave when the outbreak broke out. An the Airman, he had gone home for some hard earned vacation. But during his drive back is when everything turned to shit. He pulled into his driveway, greeted with the sight of his neighbors killing each other, and his Father munching on his Mother's face. Grabbing his affects, he put both parents out of their misery, and been moving ever since. Every military installation he came across had been overrun, so was every city, town, neighborhood.

He ran up the stairs in the back of the store, exiting onto the roof. He found a lock, and slammed it shut on the door, zombies already banging on it to get to him. Across the alleyway was some mom and pop store, and from the looks of it, two stories tall, the second one most likely offices and whatnot. But his means of escape was a window, level with where he stood. He peered over the edge, the alley full of the skin eating bastards.

He backed up a couple steps, making sure he had plenty of room. He pulled the sling extra tight on his shoulder, took a deep breath, and sprinted as hard as he could. He jumped, clearing the alley, and crashed through the window, with a shouted, pained [I]"FUCK!"[/I] as his feet collided with a desk, sending him into a cartwheel to the floor.

He laid on the floor for a second, rolling back and forth, half laughing, half groaning. He rolled onto a piece of glass stuck in his back and groaned louder, pulled it out, and got up. He brushed himself off, picked up his rifle, and moved to the door. He could hear voices downstairs, and he knew for a fact they heard him. He readied for guests to come up the stairs, wether or not they were hostile, he was loaded and ready to shoot.

It's no problem! I like a slower paced role play anyways! Eheh.. Kinda embarrassing now with Finn, having you here. Are you actually Irish? Because I'm not, I just decided Finn would have some Irish blood in him.

OoC//

Yes, but in the sense that folks raised in Boston are Irish. Blood wasnt diluted over the years through marriage. My grandparents on both sides are Irish, so were their parents, so on so forth. So no worries, lol. Rourke is going to poke harmless fun at Finnegan because of his name, though!

Edited my post as promised!

i can try to make them as long as i can just not sure how good i will be never done thread rping before mostly live ones. Also how do i join do i just post my girl wondering around and have someone find me or is the a group she can run in to?

Do you're best :) How you introduce her is totally up to you. You can have something happen to her to cause her to enter the store, or watch them for a while, it depends on how you want your character to be.

-The young girl sat in a old store room trying to hind form all the zombies out and about in the store. She had gone there to find food but found zombies instead and her gun was empty. Siting there she hugged her stuffed animal to her chest trying to keep her breathing calm as well as listen to see if any zombies got to close. She chewed on her strawberry blond hair some as she listened to the noises out side the door. She thought she heard talking yet was un sure so she did not move from her spot. Her mind wondered from where the room she was in. First it moved to thinking about how many of the zombies had family's and how many of there family's had they killed them self.s Had it been there family that bit them? from there it moved to wondering if she would ever have a family again? would she grow up and get married or would she be for ever alone? or would she even grow up at all? She wanted nothing more to close her eyes and pretend she was back in her mothers arms with her little sister there as well. But the noises out side the door kept her from being able to do so.-

Name: colia Gender: Female Age: 13 looks: http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_leusq2sd8F1qbyp5xo1_500.jpg

Ooc; Well, Ryan was originally supposed to be a few years younger than Liam, who is around 25. I think I like the idea of making her a young girl rather than just a really feeble and dependent on Liam. I know in my intro I said that Liam’s little sister was twelve before turning, but I’m going to put Ryan’s age around seven or eight to give you an idea of her stature and such. Thanks for the idea! Ha :) I was also thinking maybe Boyo could hear the commotion made upstairs breaking through the window and whatnot…? That could possibly draw out your character and get her introduced to the group, or keep her a lurker or something ha. Just throwing out ideas :)

Ryan took a step back and behind Liam when Finnegan appeared from the back storeroom with pistol in hand. She tried to stand strong like Liam was but it was harder for her to do. He looked intimidating and the fang baring canine at his side didn’t help her nerves any better. She clutched the knife in her hands until her knuckles began turning a light shade of pink before going white. Past training lessons with her adopted older brother began replaying in her head as fast as she could bring them up. This was the first encounter with a living person they’ve had in months and the last one didn’t go all that well; it’s what prompted Liam to start the fighting lessons despite her age in the first place.

The air that had been trapped in his chest was released in a huff when Finn lowered and holstered his pistol and the dog began wagging it’s tail. Liam copied his motions and sheathed his own weapon then glanced sideways down at the black haired girl with a nod. Bright green eyes went from the stranger to his dog to Lee several times before her gripped relaxed and she put the blade away in it’s home on her belt, her hand quickly finding Liam’s in a search for comfort.

Liam focused his attention back to Finn and reached his hand out to grasp the handshake. “I’m Liam and this is Ryan.” He motioned to the girl who was staring intently at the dog before her. “I think she wants to pet your dog. It’s the first animal we’ve seen that hasn’t been a stray.”

Well now he felt like a douchbag, Finnegan grimaced as he took the other man's hand and gave it a firm grip and a strong shake. His eyes were on the small child at Liam's side, who finally relaxed and lowered the knife she had been clutching in fear seconds before. He frightened her due to his precautionary way of greeting people that this new world had made common practice. She coudn't have been older than eight years old, one rarely saw kids nowadays.

Normally, he wouldn't have been suspicious of a guy decent enough to protect a little girl, but it all could have been an act. A tactic in order to get people to lower their guard around him, when actuality the girl was held captive. It was necessary, he had learned in the time since the epidemic started, to be overly cautious. Trust was a luxury that must be earned gradully, but often it never had time to manifest. Life was fleeting now more than ever, it was better not to get attached, to bother getting to know someone long enough to form a bond. Finn perferred Boyo, the dog was the best companion he could wish for.

Not just a random canine encountered during his travels, Finnegan had known Boyo for years. He spent a couple of years with the pooch before going to college, but reconnected after the disaster struck. He returned home to find both parents infected with the flu, shambling through the house, while completely ignoring the dog. As devastating as putting down his parents had been, Finnegan was thankful he had something familar to latch onto. Boyo knew how to survive, he was well trained before and only needed to learn a few more tricks along the way. Better yet, the infected didn't seem all that interested in the dog. Every now and then one would notice him and swipe in his direction, but Boyo would dart away. He was as efficient as his human companion at avoiding trouble.

"Nice to meet you Liam. I haven't encountered anyone so polite in a while." He smiled, scratching absently at the back of his head. "And I'm sorry if we frightened you, Ryan. You may pet Boyo, he's a good dog. I've trained him to be scary sometimes, but he's a big softy." Finn made a soft clicking noise with his mouth and nodded toward the girl.

Boyo's ears flicked and he hurried toward the girl, licking at her and wagging his tail. Boyo was a Border Collie, although a Scottish bred dog, it was the breed Finnegan had requested from his parents. Boyo was a classified as a chocolate merle, with large patches of white interuptted by splotches of dappled brown. His normally well groomed pelt was a bit matted in places, but Finn had a dog brush in the bottom of his pack he used on occasion.

Boyo heard the commotion before anyone else, his ears perked and head lifted away from the young girl stroking his neck. He huffed, tail steady, eyes lifted up toward the ceiling. Finnegan noticed his companion's body language and looked up, straining his ears to catch the same noise. It was muffled, but he picked up something from the upper floor of the building. Infected? Very likely, normally he would have simply moved on without bothering to investigate. But it was getting late and this was supposed to be his refuge for the night.

"I'll check it out.. Come on, Boyo." Finn withdrew his pistol once again and headed in the direction of the steps. He glanced in Liam's direction, wondering if he would want to come along or stay behind with the kid. No point in asking, hopefully it would just be a shambler crashing around. Shouldn't take long, then they could settle down for the night.

They being the four of them, if Liam and Ryan chose to stay. There was safety in numbers, Finnegan hadn't always been alone with Boyo. He had started out with others, but somehow he had been the sole survivor of the small group. It certainly wasn't because he was stronger or smarter. Survival of the fittest sure, but more often than not it came down to who was the fastest.

she thinks the noises are zombies and she has nothing to defend her self with.

So, maybe they didn't hear him. Against his better judgement, he decided to go down stairs.

With the long rifle readied, he slowly opened the door. It let out a loud, rusty creek. He sighed, knowing full well that the party downstairs was soon to investigate.

Rourke wasn't a big, imposing man. Rather average height, slim build, he made up for his lack of size with fighting knowledge and ferocity, and a hell of a good shot. He's killed his fair share of men since the outbreak started, and he just might have to in a minute.

With the gun to his shoulder, bayonet out, he slowly made his way down the stairs, taking his time to put his foot down on the old wooden stairs as painstakingly slow as possible, the sights trained on the bottom of the stairs. Any threatening moves, without explination, someone was getting a fist-sized hole punched through their chest

((OOC: So, hopefully this is alright. If any of this doesn't properly reflect the timeline of events, or seems god-moding-y, please do disregard it, and if there're any issues with my characterization or anything, do let me know.

if either of you want to have heard Ihuoma moving about, go for it, but if not no worries, I'll toss her in in a bit otherwise.))

Ihuoma liked drawing streetways. Before the outbreak, she hadn't been much of an artist, and she wasn't one now, either, so there was some safety in straight lines. Little square buildings, perfect sharp corners, it all came easily.

Not that she wasted pens often--they were so easy to find, but she never seemed to remember to pick them up--but sometimes she convinced herself that mapping out where she'd already been in these two-bit towns was somehow helpful. Really it was just an excuse to lose herself in the black inky lines.

It was so easy to feel in control once you were looking down on something. Ihuoma had never been splendidly tall for a person, but maybe tall for a woman, at 5'9, but since the infected seemed less inclined to scale buildings than she was, she had acquired a new appreciation for height.

As she crouched near the edge of the roof, pen in hand, she was absorbed in that feeling of control--so much so that at first it didn't quite register when a figure, trailed by a smaller, possibly animal one, entered the store. Ihuoma scrunched her eyes closed, her entire smooth brown face seeming to cave in with them, as she tried to replay the image in her mind and search the movements of the figures for any indication of infection. It was possible they were in the early stages, but by now she trusted her ability to distinguish between people and former people without too much thought.

She stared down at the entrance for a while, wondering if the figure would come out again once they realized that the store was relatively threadbare. She'd gone through the ground floor earlier, then decided to put off the storeroom until after she had done some mapping. Although they were generally home to something useful, even when picked through countless times, grocery stores and convenience stores were her least favourite places to be. They brought to mind images of her younger siblings, clinging to shopping carts and insisting on sugary cereals. Which, in turn, brought to mind images of their little bodies lined up neatly in the hallway, next to her parent's. Her parents, she'd shot post-infection. Her siblings, well, she considered it preventative mercy. This was no world for children.

Ihuoma carelessly let her mind wonder to their faces, eyes staring effortlessly at the entrance, until another set of figures disturbed her thoughts. Now convinced this store must be some sort of meeting place, she made her way towards the latch that led to the roof, which she'd left open. Isolation meant safety when she was alone, but if this building was about to be hostilely occupied, she didn't want her only options to be kill or jump. As she slid onto the uneven metal stairway that led up to the roof, she heard a crash from below. It sounded too crisp to be the groundfloor--but then who would be in the storeroom? She quietly drew her blade from her side. It was almost a companion to her, at this point. She'd named it Nye, because it was so helpful, but the metal instrument, with points on either side of its base and a hooked end spanning much of its length, definitely had had a traditional Igbo name that she'd forgotten.

With Nye in hand, Ihuoma quietly walked from the base of the stairs out towards the more central area of the floor. Soon after, she heard the ragged creaking of rusted hinges, which seemed to be coming from further along the floor, nearer to the windows. She slowly approached what she thought to be the source of the noise, mostly because she desired to be nearer to the door. If she could exit the building without directly interacting with whatever group was meeting up here, that would be ideal, but she wasn't going to just sit around and wait it out either. She'd seen what happened to people who tried to wait it out. Ihuoma halted behind a ransacked stack of Coca-Cola-labeled boxes once the door was in sight. By now she saw that whoever had opened the door was heading downward themselves. Just as well. She decided to wait a moment for them to go down before her, and hoped they hadn't heard her approaching.