Survive Official RP

"Hello David. Now if you want to do the direction you're still going, you're going to end up as Zombie chow, so move your body the other way, and start crawlin'. I got tons of others to help out." Said Aaron as he was gesturing David to move the other way.
"Get out some weapons, we're drillin' our way through those zombies. We HAVE to get to the other side, we need this base. for equipment, food, everything needed to save this hellhole." Said Aaron.

(Bump)

A bloody hand ripped through the metal vents with huge power.
"NYAARGHH" gurgled the mutant underneath the group, large hissings were heard from the sides, crashes of metal denting from above and paced footsteps of deformed monsters echoeing from behind.

"God D*** it! cursed David. We have to move, QUICK!"

(BUMP)

Nathan was using his claws to heave him over the Wall, seeing a tank chase him he grabbed one of his shotguns and shot it in the head "wave g'bye head!" he bellowed triumphently

Aaron grabbed Nathan.
"Come on! We can't stay here, we have to get inside!" Urged Aaron, pulling Nathan in the tunnel.

Panting, I flipped over the wall. It was going to be a long night. The cries of the undead echoed in the courtyard, and I, flashlight in hand, crept along. My curtain rod, battered more than any curtain rod should've been was strapped to my back. A heavy footfall landed behind me, making a slight clinking sound on the chain link fence.

My heart stopped as I felt the cool, scab-covered hand of the undead cover my neck. They squeezed slowly, with power, I could see the life flowing from my mouth... it was over for me. A yellow light - no, not a light, a spark, now a fire, a roaring fire inside me. Inside this frame was life. I struggled to break free. Turning, I saw a pockmarked visage, missing its left hand, bloody stump spewing forth. One eye seemed gouged out.

More in revulsion than anything else, I threw the hands off me. The gouged eye flew forwards on a vein, and I shuddered. Blood trickled down his face. I rammed my staff through his upper body, the crunch of his ribs resounding. I breathed hard. I had thought it was all over. The physiological pain was too much for me this time. I stumbled towards the door. Inside I heard voices. Not the groan of the undead. I saw sparks in the air. Trembling, I reached to the door.

My hand touched the handle, cool and firm.
I turned it slowly. A slight jam, I thought, turning harder.
Locked. I turned back round, back to the door, to see several flesh-torn victims of the plague jostling each other to take a bite from my flesh first. I pounded at the door. It was solid as could be. I'd have to stay here. Just then, I saw one start running towards me at a good clip. In his hand, a curved, rusted dagger lay. Military issue. His eyes seemed cat-like, yellow, evil.

His fingers and mouth bled, cuts running down his back. I swung wide, cracking my pole against his shins. He skid into the dirt, reopening old wounds with a groan. I looked away, only in time to see the other two at my back. Jumping over the first, I rammed downwards with my staff, skewering him like some sort of grotesque shish-kabob. His guts slithered out from beneath him. Holding my scanty lunch in, I struck the third with the side of my hand on his throat, then smacked the side of his cranium with my elbow. He writhed in pain, dirt gathering on his sweaty, gory body. Now was the time to do it.

Pulling myself together, I struck him in the solar plexus. Then, in a final move, I swept his feet and snapped his neck with my curtain rod. I looked at the heaps of dead, decaying flesh before me, their eyes still rolling from impact. The first was slowly gathering himself up, literally, for a final charge. I wedged my rod into the fence, and threw myself forwards, smashing his skull against the rocks.

The door was open. I rushed in, to the sounds of huddled, warm voices.

- 3DBlenderRender

((3D, are you followin' us, or are you still alone?))

((Bump))

Jason was still using his Camaro and smashing zombies with it. In the mean time, Keira had the shotgun and was blasting the zombies out of the window. She pulled her hair away from her eye and shot at another zombie. She came back into the car and closed the window. Keira looked at Jason.

"We there yet?" she asked. Jason sneezed and replied.

"Well, we're almost there." said Jason. Keira grunted.

"This has been a long trip." she spat. Jason turned to Keira and almost lost control on the car.

"No kidding. We've traveled 8 states-- not to mention the zombies slowing us down." said Jason. Keira nodded and looked out from the window. Jason drove toward a what looked like a deserted millitary base. Jason drifted and braked. The car slightly jumped and landed back on the ground. "Here we are. Lets go." said Jason as he pulled out his knight sword.

Keira carried the shotgun and looked around just incase their were zombies behind them. Jason walked carefully toward the base.

"Should I knock?" joked Jason. Keira sighed at his joke opened the door. They approached in the darkness, unaware of what was inside.

(This RP must Survive!)

I slipped my way into the hallway, but the voices had disappeared. Frantically, I swept the room. The door blew shut in the wind, and I was startled. I heard something. It set my teeth on edge. The sound of a soft drip, drip, drip. I approached the sound, breath held. I took in my surroundings, though no light presented itself. I was shivering from fright, and near dropped my staff.

Then I saw it.
A torn military jacket, or something of that sort. A badge had been lost in the scuffle, I could see. Boot marks and dirt lay in slight mounds. A depression in the wall, in the shape of one of the undead made me question whether or not I should move on. What if this thing... or things, whatever they were, had lured me in here? I looked about for the trickle sound. It was now very faint, happening rarely. I found what I was looking for.

Blood. Thick, clotted blood was dripping slowly from the side of a metal crate. It ran down the side, wetting the floor, a thick puddle slowly expanding. It rippled as I touched it, ran to my hand...it smelt of human. I'd never been a tracker, but this smelled different that the puss-contaminated, rotting fleshy smell of the undead. Either way, it was time to move on, or at least light a match. If I stayed in the darkness much longer, my brains would've dripped through my eye sockets. I felt a maddening sensation in me. My world was changing about me. I felt numb, approaching the door. I heard a rattling breath, and whipped round. It stopped. I was still numb, scared out of sanity, near.

It was me. My breath rattled. I felt...cold. I was one of them.
But, this can't be. I was a warm-blooded, rational being! My stomach lurched, my mind flew, and I stood, in the middle of this twister of insanity, fighting my way out. I needed to find someone. Something. Before this new world took over the old, before I became one of the masses, the despicable horde. I shut my eyes, and a face was shoved in front of mine, a face of the infected, a face contorted in glee, flies covering its face in some grotesque form of hair. It smiled at me cruelly, gleefully, knowing I was soon to be theirs.

I breathed out, feeling the sick, unnatural force handling my brain, numbing my senses to nothing but to wander, to kill, to make all others follow the true path...but why? I still had some sense, it seemed. It's the cause...you must do it. Instinct. Bestial instinct. Find the others, those who think they're special. Those warm beings who flaunt their health upon the world, we must crush them. All of them. There will be destruction, and there will be death. Let not those living beings live forever. All good things will come to an end. The horde, the cavalry, the masses of the infected...we will triumph.

I stumbled into a room, full of light, my senses returned, and good thing, too. Several brutish, gargantuan members of the infected lumbered into the room, their slitted eyes slanting in a leering manner at me. They looked to be much stronger, much smarter...and by a mile, much crueler. The one in the middle appeared to be the leader. He stood in the middle of the large, domed room, and smashed his brass-like fist into the side of a pillar. A slight cloud of dust arose, a chip of the stone flew past me, skittering on the ground.

But I didn't hesitate. This was a bit more exciting than the usual problems I faced at my job, which involved programming in assembly. I whipped his eye socket with my staff, then lugged it full length at his shins, yet he barely flinched. He pulled his fist backwards slowly, with an obvious target of my head in mind, and stared me in the eye.

I never noticed the other fist rise up to my jaw. I flew backwards, head spinning, my eyes unfocused, crossed, and my mouth clotting full of blood. I spat it out, the bestial rage growing inside me. This new power, almost, it seemed, had spiked my adrenaline. With the furious temper of a bull, and the reactions of a snake, I lashed out, rolled, and grabbed a thin, but stiff, metal wire. Whipping the tip back and forth, I passed by the first, slicing his knees, and swiped his back. He kicked back, lumbering at me, and would've kicked my feet out from under me. I would have fallen. But the infection inside me channeled through my veins momentarily, and I leapt onto his back, bending the wire around his neck, a thin stream of blood a spitting shooting into the air through his clenched teeth. He reeled before falling, his throat collapsed inside of him, his lungs clogged with swallowed blood. The others back away, before snarling, and sidestepping me.
I knew it was time. Looking the largest in the eye, I leapt forwards, slicing through his head out the other side. He stumbled back, but there was no time to waste. I gripped my staff and punched him in the solar plexus before striking a blow to his neck, which snapped with a soft pop.
Only one left. A long, sickly scar above his left eye told me he had fought before. But the inner beast of mine told me to get him. Now. In a single, defiant, swift blow, I stuck both hands from the beast. He roared in pain, gasping and howling, spilling blood over the floor. No time for mercy. I whipped his head from his shoulders.

He swayed, back and forth, then crashed down onto the floor, his head rolling, leaving a trail of darkening blood in his wake. I started to throw up. But this was my new life. If spilling blood, rolling heads, and spitting blood from between my teeth was going to be my everyday life, I’d better get used to it.

This was the new way.
The new path.
Half insane, half rational.
Let the games begin.