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GHOSTWOLVES open for recruitment (RP heavy)

Discussion in 'Guild Outpost' started by Ishtvaan, Oct 22, 2018.

  1. Ishtvaan

    Ishtvaan Moderator Staff Member

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    At first he wasn’t even sure if he had heard something. The blood centrifuge had just stopped its cycle, and he took the vial from the casing and held it against the flickering light bulb that hung from the dirty ceiling. Damned bulbs, they broke like they were made of soap bubbles, and it was harder than he thought to get working ones these days.

    He inspected the vial for a moment and placed it into the tray with the other samples of that poor dude they had found earlier that day. It was rare to find somebody who wasn’t immune against the virus, and they had stumbled across him by sheer luck, when he had already started to change. Pulling himself along with his remaining arm, through mud and scrubs. The fast biters hadn’t left much of him but had obviously stopped chewing on him once the transformation had started. Guess he had considered himself fortunate to get a coup de grâce before he had fully transformed. Still, they had been able to extract a few blood samples and Megan had started a new microbiological culture with them, but so far they hadn’t learned anything new.

    When he closed the lid of the centrifuge, he heard it again. A faint, crackling sound coming through the static of the CB radio. It was too early for the dealer to pass by in this week, and the raiders had already learned to leave this house out of their calculations for their raids, so Ishtvaan slid across the room on his broken office chair and turned the frequency knob. And searched the frequency band all the way through.

    Nothing.

    He was just about to turn it off again, when a child’s voice came through, clear as day. A girl, maybe six or seven years by the sound of her voice, which trembled between the sobs.

    “++###++####+++### …elp me find my mommy, please, I am so scared of the bad people looking in here … (panting) … she just wanted to look if there is any gas in this station over there … there are scary trees that are all red and move and these people …. (sobs) I want them to go away, I want to go home (sobs)… why is mommy not coming back?”


    Ishtvaan hesitated for a moment, then took up the CB radio microphone.

    “Hey, this is Ishtvaan. Can you hear me? If so, please answer. Can you tell me exactly what it looks like where you are?”

    “… they are bad people, and they lurk around our car … I have closed the doors but they scratch at the windows with their fingernails …. (sobs) … and they shriek and moan, mommy why don’t you come for me?###+++#+++”

    “Sounds like refugees from the zone around the east, the encampment that was overrun a few days ago. Guess they couldn’t stay at the wall and were sent westwards by the military”.

    Kowalski was leaning in the door frame, sipping on a hot berry tea. “Gosh, what were they thinking? That a mom with a kid in a nearly-broken car could get past bunker Alfa without startling some good old Zoms?” Kowalski drank the last of the tea in a sip and gritted his teeth. “They are lucky that they stumbled upon only some roaming zombies. One floater bloater and that car would have been scrap metal. Which we are running low on, just saying.”

    Ishtvaan turned the controls for the radio dishes and set them towards the direction of the signal.

    “You don’t need to”, said Kowalski with a blank expression in his face, “you know where they are. Trees. Red Trees that move.”

    Ishtvaan felt a cold shiver running down his spine. Why on earth did it just have to be this place? Why couldn’t they have run out of gas close to the river, the motel, the police station? While he imagined the picture of the car sitting in the midst of a horde, Kowalski interrupted him.

    “And you know what dwells there.”

    Oh yes, Ishtvaan remembered too damn well. He had lost a whole squad of good men and women that day, and the long talons of the creature had left the big, deep scar under his right armpit that still hurt on cold days and would be a constant reminder of his own stupidity. They had also lost Ariel that day. God, how he missed her red hair. Fire-kissed, they had teased her. And boy, she did have fire back then. But that fire had long gone out, and her bones were rotting somewhere in the swamps around the lair. HER lair. He had never been back to that area since then, and he intended never to go there again, if he couldn’t help it.

    “The shadows are growing longer, skipper. By nightfall she will be out and hunting. And that girl … well. If you want to do something, we need a decision. And we need it now.”


    Ishtvaan was constantly drumming his fingers against the table. He was thinking hard between all the flashbacks from that mission back then, and he could still hear Ariels sweet voice singing quietly to him the night before, when she had cradled him in her arms like a big baby. So long ago.

    “How is Caroline doing?”. They had agreed to give their only ATV a nickname, as if a nickname would teach the other members of the team to take better care of it.

    “She’s all full and ready, skip. Just fixed the broken track this morning.”

    Goddamned. He sighed. Well, here goes nothing.

    “Go get Suzy and Carl. No hazard suits, we won’t get too close to the forest. But one with SWAT armor, the rest tactical. Grab some M16’s from the armory. Oh, and plug in your Glock night sights. It will be quite dark when we get there. I take a flare gun with me. We are moving out in five minutes.”


    As Kowalski stormed out to get the rest of the team, Ishtvaan sighed again. Shining white knights were always the first ones to end up six feet under, and he had never asked to be one. But sometimes you had only to think about what was right and what had to be done. He looked at the small tattoo on his right forearm which he had made his motto, and inadvertently also for the whole team. A stylized wolf skull with the word “GHOSTWOLVES” beneath it. Move in like ghosts, grab your prey, move out again, as silently as a ghost. And not becoming one in the process.

    Maybe tonight he would find out if there was something after all this mess that was called life.

    Maybe tonight he would see if all the effort he put in was justified to save a single innocent human being. Or maybe he would end up like Ariel, a small pile of gnawed, rotten bones on the bottom of some muddy pond.

    It was time. He got out of his chair and left the room, picking up his trusty SCAR from the weapon stand in the process, and stepped outside into the dying twilight.

    Yes, tonight he would find out.


    ###########################
     

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  2. stufoonoob

    stufoonoob Active Member

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    This is a very good story, nice work man. Now you have to write chapter 2, I want to know what happens next.;);)
     
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  3. Z Killer

    Z Killer Well-Known Member

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    Atmospheric, vivid and detailed report. I wish i had such a fantasy imagination.
     
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  4. Ishtvaan

    Ishtvaan Moderator Staff Member

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    Gosh, writing that put me so much in the mood, I will equip now as written and go and give the witch such a beating that she won't be able to sit for quite some time
     
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  5. Wandlewall

    Wandlewall Well-Known Member

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    I wish I could join you! In fact I think I’m going to go and give her a beating too! Just to avenge Ariel! Happy Halloween Witch!
     
  6. Ivo

    Ivo Active Member

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    Great story!! If you ever need a hand, team "We Hungry" will help you out... We're just west of the police station or on the radio on 100.1 FM ;-)
     
  7. The Feral

    The Feral New Member

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    (Write a book write a book for the love of all that’s zombie keep writing. But since you opened this thread “rp heavy” don’t mind if I respond in kind. Or if you do, feel free to tell me to shove off. But the first rule of survival is to be a ghost, and I like the idea of a guild based on that. Permission to join?)

    She leaves the radio on low, these days. Not loud enough to risk attracting zed-heads, and the white noise soothes her head and oddly, seems to calm the deer as well, now that they’re used to it.

    Her shoulder aches and her leg aches- Spot drops the stick at her side and she scratches his ears but doesn’t throw it again. She... isn’t sure how long it’s been since she threw it the last time.

    She twists the cap off the half bottle of whisky she found... call it a week ago. Winces, drawing her leg up so she can change the bandage. Again. She’s running out of bandages. Needs to make more. Clean, in and out, small caliber, she can’t remember who told her but knows it could have been so much worse. There’s a big vein- artery? Whatever. In the thigh. She could have bleed out running. The fever could have taken her.

    The dogs should have eaten her, she doesn’t know why they didn’t. She hasn’t seen them in... except Spotty.

    “Where’s y’daddy, kiddo.” She rasps. “Where m’dogs at?”

    He wags his whole rear end, drops his head to his paws, ready to chase the stick.

    Sorry baby. She isn’t sure if she says it out loud. Mama’s tired.

    She doesn’t realizes she falls asleep, doesn’t know how long she sleeps, until the static pops, crackles, a small, hiccuping voice pulls her to the surface.

    ########-mommy###please#####

    She barely manages to roll onto her side, gags.

    -mama please?
    -mama look- look it!


    ...
    ...
    ...

    Get up.

    ##########################she just wanted to########gas#########

    Get up.

    Her leg hurts, but it doesn’t. She test her weight on it. It holds. It will hold.

    There’s no point. The nearest gas station is almost a mile away. It might not even be the right one. Probably isn’t.

    She bathes, repeats what does come through out loud over the static only half aware of what it is she’s hearing. Gas station. Our car. Red trees.

    Gas station. Our car. Red trees.

    Gas station our car red trees.

    Gasstationourcarredtrees.

    She used to have body armor... she doesn’t know what happened to it. She finds a pair of reinforced boots and a pair of jeans that only have a couple small tears, belts on her machete and chokes down a carrot. She has one rifle left but the scope is cracked and she thinks she remembers it’s not... sighted right. High and to the left? No. High and to the right. She only has seven shells left anyway. She puts three on her jacket, two in her pants pocket, and tucks the last two in her bra.

    He’s dead.

    This is pointless.

    Spotticus knaws on her sleeve and she debates kenneling him. Decides against it. The shambling zeds aren’t fast enough to catch him, the faster ones will have to get past the spike traps and break down a wall before they could reach him, but if she doesn’t come back she knows they will. He has a better chance of slipping by them in the chaos... if she doesn’t come back.

    Even if he doesn’t; better eaten than starving to death locked up.

    She isnt moving fast enough. She walks the mile, knowing better than to run. Keeps to the ditches off the side of the road, keeps low. She won’t be in time. This won’t be the right station.

    He’s dead.

    He’s dead he’s dead he’s dead.

    Hesdeadhesdeadhesdead-

    She looses ... minutes...an hour? A lifetime laying in the shadow of a burnt out car, waiting for three... four sets of dragging footsteps to fade out of hearing.

    The gas station comes into view (one stubborn lightbulb still burning even though she’s never been able to tell where it’s getting power from) into focus, and slips back out again. She scrubs her eyes clear. Drags her fingers over the hood of the rusted rusted blue hatchback where she died. Doesn’t look at the thing in the passenger seat.

    It’s dark, but theres enough light to make out a small mob surrounding a sedan of some kind. Smallish. Comparatively. Big enough and clustered so close together she can’t make out the color of the car. Evenly spread though, suggesting they haven’t found a way in. Yet. Maybe. It’s no promise the kid is still alive. It’s no promise there’s even anyone in there, sometimes all it takes is one catching the light off a buckle and another coming to investigate and they all wind up bumping around a false meal for days before there’s a noise big enough to start breaking up the party.

    She turns in a slow circle, keeps her eyes in her head and her ears sharp and begins circling around the far side of the pumps, picking up stones, large bits of gravel, small pieces of broken up asphalt, putting them in her pockets.

    But the thing in the passenger seat of the old blue hatchback sees her, reaches a small, emancipated hand through the broken window and gurgles, frustrated, still caught in the seatbelt.

    But she died that day, and she’s died every day she’s had to drag herself back here for supplies. Like her leg, like the teethmarks in her forearm, in her shoulder, on her neck, it hurts, it hurts- but its always going to hurt, and she’s learned how to put it away. She doesn’t take her eyes off the mob, off the sedan, but hums under her breath and lets the small, emancipated little fingers curl around hers.

    “Shh shshshhhmmmmm on magic mountain nobody sings today, nobody speaks today...” she can’t remember the words... but the tune, even little more than a breath, quiets it. Milky brown eyes blink at her sleepily, even as its jaw works and it squirms against the seatbelt. “Cross my heart, hope to live, all the time with a little fever~”

    She takes the biggest rock back out of her pocket, weighs it carefully, pitches it overhand up up as hard as she can towards a pickup on the far end of the parking lot, on the other side of the sedan. It strikes the truckbed with a resounding crash and a handful of the mob jerk at the noise, one or two even turning to investigate.

    But she can’t stay here, because chances are there are more inside, or in the back, or in the bushes who will also be turning up, lured out.

    “Sorry, baby.” She whispers, kisses the little broken nails and pries herself loose.

    She throws two more stones as she steps carefully around to the maintenance ladder leading up to the gas station roof, hits the truck both times, and starts to climb up to get a better view.

    She’s halfway up when she hears the engine, swears, and wrenches her shoulder hauling herself up over the ledge of the roof and ducks behind the ac unit. Winces and unstraps her rifle; checks the action to make sure she didn’t imagine loading it. Seven bullets. She isn’t going to waste them.

    But the living have proved more problematic than the dead, her leg throbs in reminder.

    Back to plan A. Stay low. Stay quiet. They can kill you if they don’t know you’re there, but it’s a lot less likely.
     
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  8. Ishtvaan

    Ishtvaan Moderator Staff Member

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    Remembering happier times ... :(

    christmas.jpg
     
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  9. JamesKemp

    JamesKemp Active Member

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    how come there are 2 toons in the snapshot? wicked cool
     
  10. DeVastator

    DeVastator Active Member

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    What? 2 people? Lol
     
  11. Mrnobod

    Mrnobod Member

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    This is a story and a half bro
     
  12. Ishtvaan

    Ishtvaan Moderator Staff Member

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    *suspense increasing* ...

    GWV.jpg
     
  13. Xena

    Xena Well-Known Member

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    Where are you there Ishtvaan?
     
  14. Ishtvaan

    Ishtvaan Moderator Staff Member

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    The SCAR guy ... like in the story
     
  15. Xena

    Xena Well-Known Member

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    Sorry, not what I meant. What area are you in with 4 people and those weapons? From your response though I’m guessing that you cut and pasted it to make it for the story.
     
  16. Ishtvaan

    Ishtvaan Moderator Staff Member

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    ;)
     
  17. Ishtvaan

    Ishtvaan Moderator Staff Member

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    Small push ... all inactive users have been kicked, so I am back alone in the clan. Only yesterday took a peek into the new sector 7 and am unsure if I should delete the clan and join another or wait for new recruits. Have to wait until level 150 anyways before I can change the settings :)

    If anybody wants to join, be warned that at the moment I don't have much time to play ^^
     
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  18. Scarecrow

    Scarecrow Active Member

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    Rondel, Warren and I are in a clan right now. We have some pretty good loot but recently doing the new season we have been slightly inactive. You could join if you want, right now we are just practicing doing some of the harder locations, soon we should do the devourer boss :)
     
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  19. Arkade

    Arkade Well-Known Member

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    I still havent got to the freaking *** level 150. every day i literaly do every zombie killing activity in the whole game, like pd, bunker a, motel, and every goddamn other thing. FUUUUUUUUUUUU

    - Language pls (Isht)
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 21, 2020
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  20. Scarecrow

    Scarecrow Active Member

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    Make sure you wait for healers +100% experience before you use survivor diaries, it doubles the amount you get.
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 21, 2020
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