White Darkness Warning, this is a dark, nasty and realistic RPG. Story White Darkness. The unbearably cold end to the world, twisting all manner of life into an icy snap. Earth encountered an event it was never prepared for, and no one ever expected. The sixth major ice age had come, and it could not be stopped. Those that survived merely call it, ‘White Darkness’. 30 years have past. With no break in the sky, nothing has changed. Most survivors live each day as the come, battling the terrain, conditions, and others for the elusive treasures such as canned food. Few team up to help each other, but there have been rumblings of tribes; vicious and savage. Many have turned to hunting different types of mammal. And more dangers await any unsuspecting humans. As they have evolved to their surroundings, so have the animals. With no more poachers to burden them, polar bears, arctic wolves, and even penguins have flourished. Creatures that once could not survive the cold are now... changing. But a myth now fills the brittle air. A legend so enticing, most believe it too good to be true. And only those that actually exchange words know of it. The unending plant. The burst of life shrouded in blizzard. Some say it radiates heat. Others say it grows food. Even a few have murmured tall tales of fire breathing. But... if the people speak truths... this ‘Dragon Flower’ could make anyone a god amongst mortals. Area The landscape in which this story resides in is known as ‘Crane’, due to the giant crane in the centre of town (now covered completely with ice of course). The ground is pretty flat, completely iced over, but the previous shops and houses stick half way out. Everything is covered, white everywhere, and buildings are pretty tough to get into thanks to all the ice. Some buildings have entrances though, due to smashed windows or doors left open when the event hit, but obviously these insides are heavily covered in frozen snow after all these years. Crane is a typical suburban town, but caked in a relentless blizzard. The weather does let up from time to time, but it is still bitterly cold. _________________________ General Rules 1. No controlling others' characters, unless given special permission. 2. No god-modding. (See Specific Rules below) 3. Only join if you intend to write. If you have to leave, or if you fail to write, I can kill off your character, or turn it into an NPC. 4. Communicate with one another. If you're going to do something unexpected, PM me first. 5. Don't spam with posts, or make them too long. Roughly 100-500 words will do per post. 6. Please stay up to date with posts, and read the discussion thread. 7. My word is law. 8. Teaming is not required (please see Specific Rules below) 9. The objective is primarily to survive, but everyone is after the mysterious plant. If it even exists. 10. Character templates must be authorised by me. 10. Most importantly, have fun. This is a game, so have fun with it. Specific Rules (MY RULES!!!! RAWR!!!) 1. I want to focus on some good, solid writing, so obviously no tiny posts. But this also means that I want you to write as well as you can, try to improve yourself and give some in depth posts. I am always trying to improve my writing and hopefully you guys are too; so taking time over posts and using the best quality material will really bring that out. I really like it when folks collaborate through PMs, some of the best posts have come from these. 2. This is a survival RPG. No one should be overpowered, or easily be able to help themselves. Each character should struggle. This is supposed to be realistic and they are all underdogs in this brutal world. (I’m giving you the freedom to have whatever items you want, but you need to be responsible with what you have. I’d facepalm if everyone is going to be running around with machine guns etc. Plus if you did, where would you find the ammunition? Use your brains and be more creative!) 3. Characters must be flawed! In a world like this, no one is truly good. This is a dark RPG, so your characters need to do whatever they can to survive. And that may include stealing, or backstabbing someone you teamed up with. If it works properly then it could be fantastic fun, as no one will know who to trust, or who has shady alliances together, or even what they are plotting. 4. Finally, teaming is allowed, but that doesn’t mean you always have to stay friends > Character Your character can have been born before the ice age event, or after it. Just remember if you do one after it, they will not have recollection of the previous world, so bear that in mind when writing for them. With regards to profiles I would like you to PM me full details, however I want to try something interesting... Once your character has been approved by me, I only want you to post their name, age, sex and appearance on the discussion thread. The rest is up to the reader to guess in your posts. Your characters will start just going about their daily lives. Which will probably be pretty extreme... Template Name(optional): Ice Name: (Those that were born post ‘event’ would likely only have an Ice Name) Age: Sex: Appearance: Personality: Short Bio: Miscellaneous info: Again, please PM me the template before posting.
Lynch The cracks were a dead give away. Lynch knelt and scrubbed away more ice to give clarity. At the bottom was a cool blue sheen, riddled with a sharp web. Glass. The blizzard swept across his face as he tried to contain his excitement. With more scrubbing, the excess ice vanished to the banks, revealing all of the single transparent panel. Smash. Lynch lowered himself inside. The landing was soft; untouched snow glazing the floor. But the room stunk of shadows, and only the faded light from the opening broke its stench. He pulled in further, each step crackling under the white. Frozen steel glinted in the pale and small, thin silhouettes hung from the ceiling. He ducked. Metal drummed over him, and flailed on the floor. The clatter echoed through the room. Lynch stayed low for a while - still wincing - only to find a circle of pots and pans huddled around him. “Why do you always do that?” He hissed while rubbing his head. But at least he had found the right place. At least this could be today’s jackpot. Then there was a creak. A spine tingling creak; soft on the snow; muffled by the storm. Lynch peaked his eyes just over the counter, to see only black. He waited, focusing his sight. The room was now more grey, more adjusted. A sink sat in the middle, a stove in one corner, and a shade in the other. The mass of darkness sat low, slowly traversing the wall, closer and closer. It edged to the end of Lynch’s aisle and stopped. Click. A burst of light. The rays burned in his eyes, and he shielded himself with one hand, and grabbed his mountain ice axe from behind. “Don’t.” The light ushered. A pistol danced in it's beams, mocking Lynch. “Take the backpack off... slowly.” He obliged and slid out of the bag, clutching it in his free hand. The torch never faltered, bleeding into his eyes. “Now, hand it over.” With all his might, Lynch hurled the kit at the light, sending it flying into the corner. The darkness hit the floor in a heap, and Lynch was on it in seconds, ice axe raised. The glinting tool thrust down, once, twice, three times. Lynch breathed heavy for a while, bundled over the shade, now still, as warm blood dribbled down it. Lynch grabbed his pack, and the new found torch, before shining it at the body. A young man, no more than twenty. The ‘pistol’ he had waved had been two scraps of iron tied together. But Lynch continued, and searched the boy’s pockets, to no avail. Then he searched the steel cupboards, to no avail. And after a fruitless venture, he climbed back out into the white darkness.
Roy Towns-Lost At Sea Foot in front of foot. Just keep moving, just keep living, Roy intoned in his mind, over and over again as he walked. All around him, ice. Ice as far as the eye could see, flat and lonesome. He was starting to question the wisdom of this decision. Why would he think it was a good idea to do this? Start walking over the bay? There was nothing out here, not even a trace of anything. Not even a good snow bank to dig a hole in. Just windswept ice. Everywhere. As he pondered whether or not this would finally be the end for him, the wind broke for a moment, and in the brief few seconds, the snow stopped whipping around and a sliver of sun broke through. Everything sparkled like glass for the briefest of moments before the clouds pushed back across and blotted out the light once again. The wind picked back up, and the blizzard resumed. But Roy was smiling, because in that rare, beautiful moment, he had seen something that he hadn't expected. About a mile up ahead, there was a frosted over black and white hull. A freighter, frozen in place when the White Darkness had come, thirty years prior. He picked up his pace. Half an hour later--the going had been slow, the having picked up--Roy arrived at the base of the freighter. It wasn't capsized or crashed. It looked like it had simply gotten trapped in an ice flow and lacked the strength to escape. Roy took off his pack and set it at his feet, reaching inside he produced a rope, grapnel hook, and a pair of climbing spikes that strapped onto his boots. Then, looking at the height of the railing above, he sighed and pulled a granola bar out of a pocket. This was his last one. About three months ago, he'd stumbled across a truck, lost out in the middle of nowhere, loaded with a nonperishable food delivery. He had loaded up as much as he could carry. But now, he was about to run out. He would have to eat this last one though, otherwise he wouldn't have the strength to make the climb. A few minutes later, he tossed away the plastic wrapper, and shook out his arm, warming it up for what he was about to do. Swinging the grapnel hook around and around, he finally tossed it high into the air, towards the railing above, then held his breath. It flew high and true, and went right over the rail, just like he wanted. He pulled the rope tight, and sighed a breath of relief when it held fast. The, he tested his weight on it, and started to climb, using the spikes on his boots to get some purchase on the hull. Long minutes later, and he arrived at the railing, breathing heavily. He hadn't been eating enough, his body wasn't holding together like it should have. Pulling himself over the rail, he sat down for a moment, looking out at the windswept vista. It looked so desolate, but beautiful. "Who the hell are you!" Roy jumped up, looking for the source of the voice. There were two men, one holding a lead pipe, the other a shotgun. Roy reached behind his back and pulled the ice axe from its loop on his pack. "There's no need to be hostile here," he said. "Then why did you just pull out an axe! Huh!" the one said, stepping a little close and holding his led pipe menacingly. "This is out damn boat, find your own!" "Look, I'm just looking for someplace to make camp, and some food," Roy replied. "Well we got it, and you can't have it!" the one with the pipe said. "Shut up idiot!" exclaimed his friend with the shotgun. "Alright, maybe we can work something out here," Roy said, trying to be as reasonable as possible. "This is a big boat, just let me stay the night on the far side, and I'll leave in the morning." "I don't think you heard me before, so lemme say it clearer for you a**hole! This is our boat, find your own!" Lead pipe said. "Hey, Toby, come here a sec," Shotgun said to Lead Pipe, or Toby. He looked at Roy for a moment, then went closer to his friend. Roy knew what they were saying. Thanks to the one's stupidity, telling them they had food, they were deciding right now to kill him. He might come back in their sleep and kill them, and take what they had. After a few more seconds of whispered debate, it appeared that they came to a decision. "Alright, you can stay one night." Shotgun raised a single finger, emphasizing one. "But you stay on that side of the ship. If I see you coming past that blue shipping container there, I'll blast your head off!" "Fair enough, what about food? I can trade with you," Roy said. He had a few flares and an canister of MAPP gas that he was willing to trade. "No food. We ain't got any," Shotgun replied, contradicting what his friend had said. "Just be glad we're letting you stay at all." They didn't want anything from him, they were going to let him stay the night. And then, while he was asleep, Roy was sure that they would sneak up and bash his head in with that pipe. "Alright, sounds good," Roy said, extending a hand to shotgun. "My name is Hack, by the way. I appreciate your generosity." Shotgun looked confused, but then stepped closer and shook Roy's hand. Then he died. Roy freed his axe from the mans skull and then, fast as lightning rounded on the other one, who was looking in shock as his friend's body collapsed onto the deck. Then he looked at Roy, and abject terror came into his eye. "Man, we were going to let you g-" his words were cut off as Roy's axe took him in the face. Roy flicked the blood off the blade before it froze, then sighed. Looking at the bodies of the two men he'd just killed. Sometimes he wondered if the wind had chilled his very blood.
Hawk Life. What did it mean? Did it mean joy, pain, happiness, hope? The scavenger knew none of those words. Tilting her head back to scent the wind, the young woman's hair billowed around her face as if caught in a gale. Her dead, flat eyes narrowed and her thin lips curled to reveal crooked teeth. Blood. Something had died recently. Turning to face the frozen bay, the young woman crouched -a wolf's pelt obscuring her form and giving the impression that she may actually be an animal should someone spy her from a distance. Her stomach growled and twisted in knots, and she licked her lips, tasting the bitter wind as her nostrils flared again and a light came into her eyes. That way. instinct guided her as she edged out onto the ice and made her way towards the looming shadow of something that might have travelled across the water at one point, but she didn't know what it was called. Wary, the woman slinked into the protection of a shadow, peering around to spy a man standing to one side of two corpses. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the axe, blood dripping from its blade until the man cleaned it off. She would have to be careful. A raven cawed and landed above her head, eying the bodies greedily. The scavenger hissed and sent it flying. My food. she thought angrilly.
Wiccos Sagewind It was blistering cold, but Wiccos Sagewind barely felt the chill. He was wrapped in a trailing black cloak over his muscular bear chest--which was laden with a necklace of bones, a rosary, a silver amulet with a garnet center and other voodoo charms--and he wore gray rabbit-fur moccasins and skin-tight leather pants. He was sitting crosswise on the roof of his shack, smoking herbs and listening to the North Wind to hear what it had to say. Suddenly, he had a vision of his old teather, Minerva Catweazel, on her deathbed. Her final words rang in his ears as if she were right next to him: "Your age of innocence is over, Wiccos. The witches of old must work the powers of nature to fight this undying blizzard, or die trying. You must eat me, Wiccos, eat me to survive. Eat me and take in my power..." As the vision faded, Wiccos shivered, but not from the cold. Minerva had believed in a time before the cold, a time when everything was not frozen. And she had believed that somehow it could be reversed. Wiccos believed in wild spirits and the souls of rocks, plants and humans--that's why he had aten his old teacher--but he didn't have Minerva's belief that magic was more powerful than anything. Wiccos used voodoo to get what he wanted, but he also relied on his own hand, his own weapons. It did not sit well to depend on magic to take care of everything. He shook his head and unfolded his legs, hopping down into a snow drift and heading inside. Laid out by the woodstove was Kalona, his familiar lynx. From afar it looked like a regular cat with strange fringed ears and a tasseled tail, but up close it was apparent that this beast was not completely harmless. It's teeth and claws were long and sharp, one swat from one of it's huge paws could break a human's skull. "Hey there, Kalona", Wiccos said, retrieving his bow and arrows from a slab of rough-hewn oak that served as his ritual altar. The altar also held a bone knife, several dripping candles, a silver chalice, a book covered in crow feathers and a braid of white sage and sweetgrass. There was also a small tethered bag with a pentagram inscription on the side. After strapping on his bow and arrow, Wiccos said to Kalona, "Ready to do some hunting, handsome guy?" Kalona whuffed in approval and trotted out the door, shaking his shaggy fur as he entered the freezing cold air. Wiccos drank some metallic-smelling coffee from a clay mug to bring down his buzz from smoking earlier and headed for the door--when something, a basic instinct, stopped him. He looked back at his altar, at the tied bag, and reached for it. He dumped the contents into his hand: inside was a gorgeous necklace of yellowy-clear calcite and silvery hematite, with a chunk of amethyst as a center-stone, secured to chain links. It had been the only thing he had with him when he had found Minerva. It might have been his mom's... Wiccos blinked rapidly to discourage tears and decided to wear the heavy necklace for good fortune. The necklace was kind of snug, it fit almost like a choker, but the weight of the stones felt good against his dark brown skin. Grabbing a hunting knife on his way out the door, he had a premonition that today was going to be an eventful day.
Zetsumei Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive Zetsumei shivered as she stared at the dead fire. For three days now, or what she guessed was three days, she had been stuck in the small ice cave, dug with her last strength when the blizzard's fury grew to great to ignore. For a day or two, there had been a small fire, warm enough to melt some ice, but not hot enough to boil the water. Now there was just a black mark on the ground. Snarly silently, she slammed her fists against the side of her arms. Then she lay down on her thin bedroll and started more sit-ups; anything to keep her body warm and alive. She would survive this. One hundred sit-ups and fifty push-ups later, she rested to eat. It was her last piece of jerky. As she gnawed on the dried, cold meat, she considered her situation. No heat, no food, and only the water she suck from the snow. Two more days, she reckoned, was the longest she could survive before freezing to death. She had just started another regime of exercise when the light in the cave changed. It went from near black to a sort of slanted light. The blizzard was over. Zetsumei smirked and immediately set to packing up her things. Once she was fully prepared to leave, she grabbed her folding shovel and moved to just below the part of the ceiling where the light was brightest. The cave she had created wasn't large enough to stand in, so she had to settle for working on her knees. With all her strength she stabbed the ceiling with the tip of the shovel, once, twice, and then it broke. She used the shovel to break the ceiling a bit more, and then shove the broken pieces away. When the hole was big enough, she stood up and looked around. Snow still drifted hazily down, but the biting, bitter wind had moved on to other targets. It took a bit more work before she finished digging herself out, but eventually she was free. Zetsumei stood in the frozen, faceless wasteland of white, turning slowly as she sought a landmark, anything to tell her which direction she had been walking before the storm. When she saw the glint of light off of a metal skyscraper, she started walking. Old cities, dead cities, were only for passing through; her home was in the wilderness, with the wild things. Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival. First quote by Josephine Hart, second quote by Winston Churchill
Lynch In most cases, it wasn’t the spine crippling freeze that wore down most survivors. It was the unrelenting, howling tempest that cut through all like daggers to cloth. It blew you this way and that. And no matter how much clothing they laid on, it always found its way to bare naked skin. “Bahamas. Hawaii. Maldives.” Lynch whispered in the blizzard. Just mentioning them brought a little fire to the numbing fingers and toes. He trudged onwards, and through the blur of snow and ice Lynch could just make out a pair of huge skyscrapers, split by a whitened strip. He stopped to gaze on the them, staring up and down at the two thick towers of ice. Every now and then there were breaks in the cold blue, where small gaps billowed orange tinges and smoke. Cannibal territory. And not just any cannibal tribe; these were Hannibal’s Cannibals. Lynch forced a hard right. Into razor wind. Away from predators. Today was getting worse, with no finds at all. This particular blizzard season had been one of the longest and harshest in recent memory. It reminded him of the beginning, when the skies were black for two years. Or what felt like two years. He honestly didn’t know; dates and time were largely irrelevant now. But Ellie would always say, “The calendar is important. How will you know when it’s your birthday?” She used to count the days in her old notebook, writing a tally of each day to her birthday, and his. He missed Ellie. He didn’t count birthdays anymore. He just counted the days since he last saw her face. Once more the white darkness bit into his face, his blackish grey beard caked in white. Up ahead he could see what looked to be an industrial port. Maybe today wasn’t so bad. No, who was he kidding, today was always bad.
Roy- An Unsavory Task He heard caw, and turned to see a crow flutter off into the wind, fighting it. Things like that, and the two men dead at his feet reminded Roy that he wasn't the only fighting to survive in this frozen hell. He was alive though, and that was what mattered, to him at least. He doubted that any other living thing gave a hill of beans whether he was alive or not, unless something could be gained from him. Hill of Beans, what an odd expression that had bubbled up from the depths of his memory. But he put that aside and got down to the unsavory task of searching the dead men. He crouched down next to Shotgun, and took the gun from his hand. Just like he had though, it was empty. Then he started searching the man's body. He had a single shotgun shell in his pocket, Roy considered taking it and the gun, but decided that the gun was too heavy, and just took the shell instead. A round of ammo could be worth a lot to the right person. Next, he inspected the man's boots. They were old and worn, in worse shape than Roy's own. In his pocket, there was a piece of beef jerky, still wrapped in plastic. Roy took it. Then he moved on to the other man, Toby, Lead Pipe. He had a small knife in his coat pocket, which Roy took. He also had a flare, and a couple of frozen, ancient energy bars. They were better than nothing. His boots were in better condition, solid tread on the bottom, fur lined, steel toed, and made of thick leather. Roy stripped them off the dead man's feet and stowed them in his pack. He could either use them when his own wore out, or trade them for food if he had to. Then he went back to Shotgun, and lifted the man up, then tossed him over the railing onto the ice, about twenty feet below. Then he did the same with Lead Pipe. Now that that unsavory task was finished, he started exploring the ship a little. He headed over around a shipping container, then stopped dead as he saw a young woman crouched next to it, peering up at him, almost... hungrily. S*** a cannibal, he thought, reaching for his axe.
Wiccos Sagewind Wiccos went where the winds took him. And then his familiar lynx caught a scent and started to gait ahead of him. "You go, Kalona, find us some food", Wiccos encouraged the old lynx. Kalona may have been young once, but he was well past his prime. He was going blind in one eye and he wasn't as fast or as strong as he used to be, but if riled, he was still a force to be reckoned with. It was just that his stamina wasn't what it used to be. Wiccos could sense that he was nearing the end of his life, but he guessed that he had at leasy another year with his feline companion. Kalona followed his sensative nose and Wiccos followed his cat. They reached the crest of a hill that overlooked some dead people below. Wiccos also spotted a girl laden with animal pelts and a guy with an axe. "Trouble, trouble, trouble", Wiccos grumbled to himself. That's what he felt in his gut--pure, no-good trouble. Crouching low, Wiccos made a downward motion to Kalona. Kalona whuffed aggitatedly and crouched low in the snow drift, as well. Wiccos assessed the situation with his sharp, hawklike eyes. "We need food...we're running dangerously low", Wiccos muttered. "All we have left is my drugs, some healing herbs and that huge bag of coffee we scored last week. We need to get more food soon." So it was settled--Wiccos and Kalona would wait for the strangers to kill each other and then swoop in to take whatever goodies they were fighting over.
Hawk Hawk tensed immediately as she spied the man reaching for his axe, her dead eyes alighting a bit, but she dared not move until she absolutely had to. Her mouth opened just a bit to take in more oxygen, and her breath came out in small clouds as she seemed to pant like a dog. The cold metal wall beside and behind her had her cornered except for on one side -which she would use to escape if he charged her. Her eyes flicked again to the bodies, and back at the human. The crow cawed, landing again by her head fearlessly now that her attention was diverted elsewhere. She really wasn't interested in this guy -he was easilly too strong for her to handle, reminding her of a polar bear, and she preferred already dead food anyways. A wolf howled a mile off, and Hawk bristled. They had scented the blood too. She needed to get to her food first before the others started fighting over it. Gritting her teeth, Hawk growled and looked again at the man. She really didn't want to deal with him. "No killee," she hissed, "Hawk is scavenger -all dead meat. No killee." shaking her head awkwardly, she remained crouched on all fours, her body swaying until it seemed like she might come unbalanced and fall over. That was the trick to her combat style -make herself seem weak and about to die, then slip past her enemie's defenses and kill them with a throat blow if she had to.
Zetsumei Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive Zetsumei trudged through the snow, her snowshoes preventing her from sinking into the soft powder. Her eye lashes held flakes of white, and she had to blink often to prevent the melting snow from freezing her eyes closed. The glare was minimal, but still enough to obscure her vision. As she walked, she hugged herself, trying to stave off the hunger and the memories it brought to mind. She was getting closer to the city now, she could actually see the silvery outline of the skyscrapers. They were so small, so vague... The city was, perhaps, too far away. The cold stole her energy; sitting still in a warm environment she might be able to survive two weeks without food. In the snow, where a body needed much more energy to survive, she would be lucky to last two days. If she didn't reach the city by nightfall, she would have to focus on finding food. Any kind of food. Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival. First quote by Josephine Hart, second quote by Winston Churchill
Kat AKA Minx Her lips touched cold lips. The scent of blood lingered, but all she could think about were the weeks prior that she'd felt emotion, felt anything at all. "Goodbye Raze. Sorry it had to come to this, but it was only a matter of time before you'd do the same." Kat whispered into his ear as she caressed his frosty cheek. With no answer, his blue eyes stared up at the glistening icicles hanging from the rooftops. Laying down his head, Kat wrenched her bowie knife from his chest and tossed it to the side. Not wasting any time, she opened his trench coat to strip him of it. Red slush stained her hand, but a waft of the smell she'd come to recognize was still on the coat. Musty smoke. Picking up her knife again, she carefully sliced through the wool. The coat would be too heavy to carry otherwise and she could make use of the extra fabric. She collected all she needed and neatly folded the scraps together. After that deed was done Kat picked up Raze's sack and pulled out what she'd taken inventory of when she had first met him. A hatchet, the last bit of jerky, two frozen batteries, and a leather book. The book she had watched him read by firelight, but could never sneak a peek. Not that she could read anyway, but it would make good kindling if another fire could be made. All except the hatchet, she stuffed inside her own pack and hefted on her wide shoulders. As she took a last look at the snowed-in alley, rare nostalgia washed over her. She'd spent precious time pretending that for just once, life could be 'normal'. To think she had almost believed her own lie… As she brought the hatchet down to break through the fresh wall of snow, she took comfort in knowing that Raze would never love again. With every swing she blotted out the memories. Finally the metal tip crashed through and made an opening she could crawl through. When she emerged from hiding, a gust of wind threw back her hood and she squinted as her vision blurred white. Kat took one step after the other, beginning another journey toward an unknown destination. And she wouldn't stop until a man was in sight.
Roy "No killee," she hissed, "Hawk is scavenger -all dead meat. No killee." Roy took a step back, trying to think what to do. The girl seemed about as close to feral as one could get. He might be doing her a service by ending her life, but... he didn't want to. He'd had enough killing for one day. "Don't come any closer..." he said. There was something in the way she moved, frail, but lithe. She was used to this world, more-so than he was, and he wasn't so sure he'd be able to take her if she attacked. "Look, the... meat, you want, I threw it off the ship... I'll leave you alone if you leave me alone..." he said, pointing to the two dead men who's blood was slowly freezing into the ice below. He still held his axe at ready in his other hand, but if he could avoid another confrontation, he would. But he simply didn't have the heart to outright kill this frozen girl, damaged as she may have appeared.
Lynch And then he heard the horn. The blaring, blood freezing horn. Lynch’s heart stopped, unable to process what was truly happening. His legs had already started moving, but too quick, too rash. He fell, pounding his face into a foot of snow. And then the horn sounded again. “Oh no... please no.” His limbs panicked and scrambled, flailing in the white fluff. Were they on the hunt? Had they found someone? Lynch didn’t care to find out and finally got his footing back. The blizzard had started to wane thin, clearing the streets for their arrival. The horror show was about to start. The industrial port loomed in the distance, and the frightened gazelle dashed towards safety. The last time he had heard that skin crawling horn, Lynch had found what was left of seven bodies, strung up over a gate. Mangled and skinless they hung, blood oozing in the ice below. These poor souls had no doubt endured the pain while alive, or most of it. Not two days later had the bodies gone, but the blood remained. It’s what they called the ‘meat rack’. Lynch shivered at his own thoughts, the vile memories urging him to survive. Each leg was stone, so heavy to move. A chill coursed through his spine, as an ear piercing shriek volleyed behind him. He turned. The street sat empty in white, but the shadows stared back. Lynch began moving again, unsure to why he stopped. The industrial port embraced him warmly and without a moment to spare he dived behind a shipping container, as one of them jumped into the street, with eyes maddened and savage. Hunting for it’s next target.
Zetsumei Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive Time dragged on as Zetsumei plodded through the snow, toward the ever distant metal towers. As her hunger and thirst began to show, she stumbled. The closer to she came to her goal, the more her steps seemed to drag, the less energy she found to keep walking. Eventually tripped over a piece of ice, jagged beneath the powder, and fell. Just as she was pushing herself up, a horn sounded from the distance. Immediately Zetsumei froze, much like any animal might. They weren't supposed to be here! She crouched low to the ground, her white hood and clothing helping her blend into the landscape. Moving slowly, her motions almost invisible, the young woman reached for her crossbow. It was meant to shoot metal bolts; they were so rare and valuable, however, that it had been modified to shoot wood and stone arrows. Considering the enemy, however, Zetsumei loaded one of her seven precious metal bolts. Once she was armed, she began to creep forward. Now that her senses were no longer deadened, heightened as they were by the adrenaline, she noticed how close the city had become. The horn sounded again, followed closely by the first echoing scream of terror. Zetsumei grinned savagely at the sounds of slaughter. Someone else was dying. Good. That lowered her chances of dying, at least according to her warped sense of logic. She got closer to the city and then froze again. Still crouched low to the ground, she let the flurries of snow slowly obscure the outline of her form, until she was nothing more than another shadow, another mound in the uneven ground. Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival. First quote by Josephine Hart, second quote by Winston Churchill
Hawk Hawk started to say something when a horn blared and she whirled around on her haunches, her eyes spying something leaping into the circular container behind her. The wolves howled, and a foul wind brought the scent of decay and rot to her nose. Something was out there.... She stood up, her long, thin legs and hands like needles and her frame like a rod as her black hair streamed out behind her, matted and stained. Her thin lips curled to reveal crooked teeth that had been sharpened by a dull knife. "Hunters..." she hissed, her dead eyes flicking over to Roy, revealing a trace of wariness even in her own eyes, "Bad hunters..." she crouched again and plucked something from her pocket -a dented, frozen can of prunes. "Trade for pointy metal." she said, then nodded in the direction of the horn, "Team till gone -dead dead if split up." The horn sounded closer this time, and Hawk couldn't suppress a shudder. She looked at Roy, fear in her eyes, both of his axe, and of the thins out there.
Roy "Trade for pointy metal." she said, then nodded in the direction of the horn, "Team till gone -dead dead if split up." He'd heard that sound before, he knew what it meant. They were being hunted, and flight was his only option, because there would be to many to fight. And having a partner gave him a few options. "Alright, but I keep my axe," he said to the ice girl, then pulled the dead man's knife out of his pocket and tossed it to her. "Take that, and stay close. We should be alright as long as we stay hidden. But stay close, and for the love of god, stay quiet!" he hissed. He couldn't just leave the girl on her own. While he had a feeling that she would be fine either way, there was part of him that felt like, fierce as she was, she needed someone to look after her. But, if worst came to worst, he could leave her as a distraction and make his own escape. The thought came to him unbidden and easily, but left a sour taste in his mouth, and again he wondered if he had let this world freeze all the humanity out of him.
Hawk Hawk nodded quickly and dashed after the man, careful to keep behind and to one side so that he could see her but not attack suddenly. She knew he was scared of her, so the only way to keep them from getting in an unnecessary fight would be to avoid surprising him. Clutching the danger to her chest, she moved on either four legs or two depending on how deep the snow got. Sniffing the air, she pointed out which directions the sounds and smells were coming from, allowing them to avoid the creatures better. "Baddy bad, Hawk no like dem. Mean. Take food." She grumbled.
Kat Kat clenched her teeth as she scanned the horizon. Underneath the sheet of white, skyscrapers pierced the sky. She was closer to the main city and not in the poor outskirts anymore. Good. She was bound to find somebody in these parts, hopefully starving to death. An indebted person would come useful. The icy wind blew a stray curl into her face as she kicked up snow with each step. After all these years, the blasted cold still hadn't given up and as long as it remained the victor she would continue the battle. She'd continue to fight to reach the top of the chain. Yet, even there no one was guaranteed safety… Kat gripped the handle of her hatchet tighter at the thought. Soon her thoughts blurred into daydreams. Every murder crept to the forefront, the pain that struck harder than a knife; the heaviness in her chest that grew. Her need to kill off emotion was far too great and she had waited too long with Raze. She shouldn’t have let her guard down. But he had been so…kind. Thoughtful. Considerate. Handsome. He’d been an angel in their frozen hell. And he was dead. She couldn’t make the same mistake twice. No, she couldn’t allow herself to become captivated. No one could control her. No one could make her feel again. Kat blinked snowflakes off her eyelashes as the sharp sound of a horn sliced through the air, pulling her back into reality. For weeks she’d only heard the sound from far away, muffled by the packed snow. But now she was out in the open…alone. Her breath quickened at the realization. They preyed on loneliness. With wide eyes, her gaze landed on the closest building a few feet away. The horn replayed in her mind as she nearly lost her footing, struggling in the deep drifts. She was tempted to take a look behind her shoulder, but she forced herself not to.
Lynch Lynch held his breath, praying that the winds would hide his scent. He could hear it, sniffing, searching, hunting. Chills played along his spine, while the blizzard muffled more distant screams. Lynch knew, deep down, it was coming. Only the tinge of hope in his heart held him there. One quick peek, just to see. Go on Carl. One peek. His eyes betrayed him and Lynch glanced around the container, only to see the bloodied mass of hell butchering towards him, with a wretched white and crimson foam clinging to it’s fangs. Now. Now he had to run. The white powder erupted under each step, and he went left, then right, zipping behind containers and oil tankers. The raging fiend was never far away, running on all fours, nose thick with the scent. The landscape changed once more and out of the industrial port came more buildings. Lynch had somehow managed to get to the other side of the skyscrapers, and found himself in the old commercial area, where department stores and high value goods were once sold. He bent through the black ice of the back alleys, willing anything to catch the monster’s attention. But he had no such luck. And it was gaining on him. He had to take it inside. Lynch sped out of the alley and into the streets, praying for an opening. Anything. It skidded around the corner of the alley, losing its footing and bashing against the icy wall. The groan was enough to make Lynch look back; but he saw it, already back on it’s feet. And that’s when Lynch hit something. Hard. He toppled on the snow, collapsing just to see a figure in front do the same. Not another one, surely? He saw her, with jet black her woven with braids. The leather jacket said enough to know that she wasn’t foe, or at least not the priority. Quickly to his knees, he picked her and up and screamed through the howling winds, “We have to go, right now!”
Kat A strong hand pulled her out of the snow and powdery white stuck to her clothing. The wind picked up at the most inconvenient time, howling in her ears. Loose strands that had escaped from her braids tossed and twirled as she regained her footing. "We have to go, right now!" What are the odds, Kat thought as she heard the voice before she saw the face. A man's voice. She blinked rapidly to focus and get a quick look. An older face peered back, several years more than her, at least a decade. A grey beard proved that true. His whole demeanour revealed he had experienced the full blow of the times. His dark eyes spoke fear as his grip remained firm on her arm. She shrugged away from the man's touch, meeting his gaze. Her hatchet blade reflected off the blinding mass of white as she nodded in his direction. "Just lead the way, I'll follow!" she shouted. Even in the dire situation she could not lose sight of the fact that as friendly as he appeared, he could be an enemy; a distraction. False kindness was always shown right before a kill. She should know, she'd played that game multiple times.
Zetsumei Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive The cold seeped into her bones as she waited, the minutes dragging on as the whine of the wind climbed toward crescendo. A few minutes of adrenaline rush, followed by motionless waiting in frozen wasteland, was not enough to keep her going. Hunger, exhaustion were taking their toll. Slowly, Zetsumei felt herself fading, the point on her crossbow wavering. She closed her eyes, just a blink, and then dragged them open. They closed again; so heavy, so tired... A crunching snap caused her eyes to shoot open. Where once there had been an empty horizon, there were now people, running. If they didn't turn, they would end up somewhere to her left. And the thing, the shameful half-human that followed them, it would end up right on top of Zetsumei. In seconds, as she fumbled to change the metal bolt for a wood and stone one, the young woman reached a hard decision. Three people were running away; one had to die for the others to live. Trembling slightly as she forced herself back into focus, back into that state of preternatural awareness and survival instinct. She only needed one moment, a few seconds, just long enough to make a shot. Her trembling stopped; she lifted her crossbow and aimed it at the three fleeing strangers. She took a deep breath, and then fired. The wooden bolt, with its imbalanced stone tip, spun as it moved through the air, its course less than straight. The wind, which had turned the flurries of snow into cascading veils of obscurity, further altered its course. Zetsumei had accounted for both of these things, however, and she watched as the bolt reached its target and impacted. The cannibal swarm, sensing victory, descended like the madmen they were onto the injured prey. The danger suitable mitigated, Zetsumei struggled to her feet, and turned to run. She made it a few yards before she floundered and fell to her knees. Struggling against the demands of her body, she once again pushed herself to her feet. This time, however, she could only stumble forward one step at a time, as the sound of running feet grew closer, and the cries of the dying and feasting were carried on the wind. Escape, she told herself. Survive. Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival. First quote by Josephine Hart, second quote by Winston Churchill
Lynch Through the air came a whistling, and in a split second it vanished. Instead a thud replaced it behind them and looking back they saw the beast hit the floor. For a moment the pair paused, amazed at their luck. But with the smell of blood came more. Not hoping to be the next meal, Lynch dragged the girl through the outskirts. The winds would not let up; daggers of ice cutting through their clothing. Each step was more unbearable, as the temperature began to drop. And the night began to fall. They had to find shelter soon, or the white darkness would take them. The south of Crane was flooded with abandoned suburb homes, once bright and colourful, now pale and wicked. Frozen beyond all recognition, each one sneered as the pair walked down the road. Only now was Lynch realising that he had brought this woman with him. He needed to cut this off, quickly, but the guilt of bringing the beasts on her had crept into his mind. So, they would find shelter. And then he would go on his way. Each home they tried would not open under the ice, and now the darkness was making them desperate. But suddenly, under the thickest white, was yellow. A pale yellow, glazed by the blizzard. A school bus. After minutes of kicking and picking at the yellow bus, it cracked open through a loose window, and the pair squeezed in. Lynch boarded the hole quickly, and with the vehicle completely iced over, they would not have too much worry starting a fire. They sat across from one another, the paper fire in between, both staring away. The orange glow warmed Lynch’s skin, the crackle drowning out the wind’s howl. Though he didn’t feel safe. Not with this stranger, a throat slash away. “What were you doing in town?” The interrogation had started.
