Official NPF Zombie RP: Ch. 1
 

The great zombie leader looked over his undead minions. Unlike most of the zombies he looked relatively human. Only his pupilless eyes and white skin were any indication of his true self.

"Now as you all know, well as all of you capable of understanding english know, we have completely isolated the city from the outside world. However the humans have began putting up a resistance. We must..." smacks one of the zombies "STOP EATING EACH OTHER"

Crane darted around the corner and pelted down the corridor, grinning as he heard the two zombies thud into the wall behind him. These zombies were old, little more than muscles and bones and moved quickly, but were much less intelligent than the newly dead. He reached the end of the corridor, holding his hands out to shove the pushbar of the hospital's fire-doors.
They were locked.
Quickly, fumbling a little in his haste, he drew one of the pair of antique duelling pistols he carried, aimed it where he thought the lock should be, and fired. Giving the door a kick, he burst out into the morning sunlight, the zombies only steps behind. Slamming the doors shut, and shoving a half empty skip in front of them, he spun around to find himself in an alley between the hospital and another building. Shoving the pistol back into its holster, he dashed towards the end that should have led out onto the street. Unfortunately, the hospital had decided they didn't want tramps sleeping in the alley, and had built a high wooden fence at the end of it. Behind him, he heard the zombies smash down the hastily barricaded fire doors. He turned as the undead dashed down the alley towards him. Drawing his second pistol, he fired at the first zombie as it leapt.
The heavy lead shot smashed into its face, ripping apart what little brain tissue it had remaining, and sending its lifeless corpse flying back into the second zombie as it readied itself to leap at him. Dropping the pistol, he drew his sword, stepped foward, and, as the creature struggled to rise, drove it into the juncture where its neck met its skull, severing the brainstem. It thrashed twice, then went limp. With a gasp of relief, he slumped, exhausted, against the fence.

After about half an hour of sitting there, gasping for air, he had recovered sufficiently to move again. He picked up the dropped pistol, reloaded and holstered it, and reloaded his other pistol, then dragged his sword out of the zombie's neck, and wiped the blade clean before returning it to its sheath. He climbed laboriously to his feet, then set off back towards the library he was using as his hideout. It was a very old building, probably about two centuries old, which was why he'd chosen it. Unlike most of the modern buildings, it had very thick stone walls, small windows, and good strong doors made of oak that had become iron-hard with age. He kept those barred, and had piled bookshelves up behind them, leaving as his only means of entry a steel fire-escape ladder, leading to the rooftop. He ascended, and re-entered the building through the rooftop doors. Zombies were not good at climbing, and he had, with a lot of effort and an angle grinder, rigged the ladder so that the top two meters could be pulled up onto the roof after him, making it almost impossible for any zombies to get in through that entrance. With a sigh, he slumped onto a sofa, put his feet up on the coffee table, picked up "The Complete Illustrated Sherlock Holmes Adventures", and settled down to read.

A few hours later, there was a scratching at the doors, and some unearthly moaning. He sighed, and clambered back up to the rooftop. Looking down at the front doors, he could see a small group of about five zombies, scratching at the wooden planks and moaning horribly. He sighed again.
"It took me ages to drag these up here," he muttered to himself, as he picked up a pair of the concrete blocks he'd spent six hours ferrying up to the roof in a jury-rigged bucket and pully system. He held them out above the moaning, shambling undead, and let go, one after the other.
With a loud crunching sound, the first block caved in the skull of one zombie, while the second smashed into the face of another, breaking its neck. Humming contentedly, he went back for more blocks.

After he'd finished crushing the zombies, he climbed back down, dragged the bodies away from the doors, and set fire to them. He retrieved the unbroken three of the concrete blocks he'd dropped, and stuck them in the bucket he used to transport heavy objects up to the roof, before climbing back up to the roof, pulling the ladder up behind him, and hauling the blocks back up.
He went back downstairs, and went to sleep. As he drifted off, he thought he could hear the sounds of helicopters...

Flare sighed, as she looked out from her gunner's position on the UH-1Y Heuy that she was riding in. They had just spent 3 hours on a patrol/H-K mission, the GAU-12 gun that she was manning had most of it's ammo left, as they only had seen a couple small groups of zombies around. Nearby was an older AH-1W Cobra, which from what she can see, had a bit more luck in the target market. "Flare, We got a sighting about a mile off to the west. It's all ours." The co-pilot of the Heuy called out to her, and with a smile, she flicked off the safety, and said "Gotcha, let's light these SOBs up!" Not even a minute later, she saw a good bunch of about 14-20, and she let loose with the gun, the tracer rounds lighting up the walking corpses.

Grey had been closing on this human for the last fifteen minutes, Finaly she had cornered herself in an deadend ally.
Those muscles that still worked in his face drew his mouth into a smile, He could already taste the sweet sweet flesh and knew that the ever present pain would soon be quenched for a moment.
Lifting his mighty sledge above his head he let it fall, A sickening squelch of the hard metal caving in the head of the woman was music to Greys half functioning ears.
Bending down to start his feast his eyes were drawn to a closed comic store and more importantly to the picture on the door, There in all it's yellow glory was a Pikachu, His hunger forgotten Grey went to work on the image smashing it and the door to pieces before settling down to his meal.

Jack was sitting down, eating a sandwich when he heard thumping and scratching at the door. He breathed a long sigh.

"They found me again..."

He immediately dropped the sandwich and picked up his pistol and backpack, which contained a lighter and a couple more clips of ammo. Since he didn't have anything to set the zombies on fire with, he figured that fighting them would be pretty pointless - he didn't even know how many were there. Instead, he paced towards one of the back windows.

Jack had been hiding in a part of the city that was fairly crowded with houses, making it relatively easy to stay out of sight. Somehow, the zombies kept eventually finding him anyway, but he planned to keep dodging them for as long as possible. As he crawled out the window and briskly walked away from his former hideout, he heard a moan a short ways to his left. Without bothering to look, he ran full speed down the yard, followed shortly by the sound of running footsteps behind him. From the sounds of the footsteps, he could tell that the zombie was gaining. As it neared, he desperately turned around and fired two shots - one for the head and one for the knee. His first shot had only grazed the head, but the second had apparently blown out the zombie's kneecap. The zombie kept lurching towards him, but since it only had one good leg now, Jack easily outran it.

After traveling a good distance that without running into anymore zombies, Jack figured that where he was was as good a place as any to stop. He entered a nearby house that at first glance appeared to have the least number of doors and windows, and formed makeshift barricades with whatever he could find. Once he was content that the house was safe enough for the time being, he slumped down against the wall. He had escaped again, but he couldn't help wondering how long he could keep it up.

"I'll have to hit the liquor store again when I get the chance," he thought to himself as he checked the house for possible emergency exits.

Clarence was running for his life. He could barely even remember why he was in this city. he only knew that the walking dead had taken a decided interest in him. A moaning hoarde was at his back, and he was coming up to a dead end. Before he came to the wall, he rann to the side and jumped up, pushing off of the left wall and grabbing the edge of the one blocking his path. He crawled up until he was perched on the top. He laughed at the advancing Hoarde and jumped over to the safer side. He climbed up the nearest fire escape and peered over the roof..

Flare looked and saw someone looking like they were scrabling for safety. "Sir, looks like we got a runner." She called out over her shoulder to the pilots. "I got him, we'll radio in for a pick-up." A couple seconds later, he called back. "We have t oget him. Try t oclear some of them away." "Gotcha sir." Flare said, and moved it to face as far foreward as I could."

Marcus saw someone sprint past the window as he looked out. He leaned out and caught sight of the horde of zombies chasing the guy.

"Well i have more of a chance if i get some buddies to watch my arse" Marcus muttered to himself. He grabbed his trusty crossbow and his bolts as well as several knives and a pistol. leaning back he kicked the boards off his window and climbed out onto the fire escape. He climbed up the fire escape till he reached the roof of his building. Looking across at the next building he saw a human looking around. Without pausing Marcus took a breath broke into a run and leapt across the gap to the neighbouring rooftop where the guy was looking around.

Instead of as he'd hoped making it all the way he instead missed the edge and slammed into the side of the building before seconds later clanging onto the fire-escape the level below the roof. Rubbing his head Marcus climbed up onto the roof and before the other human could blow his head off yelled out "Hey its okay im not a zombie. I'm a human my names Marcus. Who are you?"

Crane awoke to the sound of helicopters.
The military! Help at last!
Jumping up, pausing only to grab his pistols and sword, he ran up the stairs to the roof two at a time.
Looking out over the city, he could see a helicopter flying low over the rooftops about two streets away, and...
What is that?
Dashing back downstairs, he grabbed the old telescope he'd taken from the antiques shop, and ran back to the roof. With it, he could make out the tiny figures in the distance.
A man holding a pistol was menacing another man who held a crossbow as he climbed onto the roof.
"Idiot," said Crane contemptuously. "Better to help him and stay alive. Or, alternatively, throw him to the zombies as bait..."
He thought for a moment. He didn't want any company in his library; more humans meant more attraction for the zombies, but he couldn't let them die in good conscience.
It's not far away... I'm sure it'd be safe to go and pick them up...
He sighed.
Checking he had everything; pistols, ammunition, sword, rope, torch, he headed over to the fire escape and lowered the top section back into position. Climbing down, he jogged quickly across the deserted streets towards the troubled pair.

In about five minutes, he was at the base of the building. Walking around it, he found a fire escape. He had barely set foot on it, when a thought occured. "Hey up there! I'm coming up!" he shouted.
Climbing quickly up the fire escape, he raised his hands as he walked onto the roof, showing that he was unarmed. "What are you two doing up here? It's not safe!"
One of them, a slim, brown haired man holding a crossbow, explained. "I saw Captain Rambo here being chased by zombies, so I jumped over to lend a hand. I've spent the past five minutes trying to persuade him not to blow my brains out!"
Crane looked at the other man, a tall black man with a hideous afro. "Nice hair," he said, raising his eyebrows. Before the man could take umbrage, he added "Look, I have a place you two can hole up for a while. Follow me."
Without looking to see if they followed, he trotted quickly down the fire escape, heading back towards the library.



OOC:
Forgive my minor control of your characters, but since I live in a completely different timezone, it'd be lame for me to simply say one line in a conversation, then not be able to post anything else until the day after. You, of course, don't have to follow me if you don't want to.

With a shrug Marcus turned and said "Why not, i had a place before but the more the merrier i guess."