Requiem for the Survivors (Tsemara and Ilallora)

[Tsemara]

It's the early 21st century. Scientists have been working on a formula that will help patients recover from crippling injuries. The serum was designed to hasten the healing process, and provide movement to limbs that were previously paralyzed. The results were promising.

No one thought anything suspicious when a few of the scientists developed feverlike symptoms. Influenza was making its' rounds again in the school system. Co-workers figured that their peers had been infected by their children. When the symptoms worstened, the ill developers were given sick leave until they were ready to work again.

Soon there were reports of indiviuals suffering some sort of psychosis, attacking people. According to the reports, the individuals that were apprehended were attempting to eat the people they were assaulting. The victims were reported to have passed away with mysterious flu-like symptoms. They were later seen assaulting passerbys. The dead were rising.

A few days have passed since these reports have been filed. There is still electricity and running water in a few locations. Phone lines are down, but if one was lucky, they might find an ellusive radio or satelite signal. Officers of the law have fallen. Zombies wander the streets. Survivors have holed up in shelters, or have reveled in the anarchy that has been created.

[Tsemara]

Pertinent Plot Point Post

Rules and Stuff:
1 – Follow Midorea's rules. Pretty self explanitory.

2 – I'll be rolling various dice for things, but a lot is still up to the player(s). No Godmodding!

3 – This role play is rated PG-13 for violence, swearing, gore, and other violence related stuff. You have every right to be a total jerk if you want to be. If you want to have a relationship with another character, I'm not stopping you. But keep it clean. Seriously. Not saying relationships WILL happen in this sort of thing, but who knows? *Shrugs*

4 - Read the rules, or the owl will eat you.

Bios:
To be added if needed. For now, it will be kept blank. Woot.

[Tsemara]

The morning air was still and strangely quiet, in the small neighborhood. The sound of birds was missing. No horns from commuting motorists blared. No children complained that it was too early to go to school. The only sound to be heard was an unrelenting drone that ebbed and swelled as its’ creators moved about. The drunken lurching of the undead seemed to be the only sign of “life” in the city. Some wandered aimlessly. Other 'chased' after prey that was no longer there. But they all seemed to be searching.

Peter sighed and hunkered back down behind the dumpster he was using as cover. He removed the metal helmet he had on, as well as the paintball mast covering his face. He was getting hot. He sat down to rest. In the darkness, he listened for the sound of approaching zombies.

It had been only four days since the zed plague hit his hometown. It had taken the same amount of time for the quiet city to turn into a ghost town. He had heard reports of other places being hit. But, little by little, the reports stopped coming in. Gunshots were becoming fewer and farther between.

He scratched his chin before putting his mask back on. He made sure his helmet was snug against his skull, as he stood up. Cautiously, he peered out of the alley. The closest zombies were far enough away to prevent much threat. He could make it. The grocery store was only half a block away. Hopefully, there was still enough to be looted to last his hideout for another few days. He shifted the weight on his large, empty, backpack. Then, with a deep breath, he scurried out of the darkness.

The gutted convenience store was one of the few buildings he and other possible survivors frequently looted. With any luck, there would be enough unspoiled food things left to last his hideout a couple days. Otherwise, he’d move on. Maybe he’d grab some seeds?

Peter was wary of the broken glass, as he crept inside. He passed by the still bodies of smote zombies, and unfortunate pedestrians, without a word. Drawing his machete from its’ frog, he began moving down the aisles. Holding the battle worn blade, tightly, he listened for the sound of zeds as he looked for foodstuffs.