Days Gone By ; TWD AU

[Avalon]

1 - Asura [ Pogue ] : Medic ( 30 HP )
2 - Castor [ Python ] : Leader ( 30 HP )
3 - Eurydice [ Avalon ] : Resilient ( 50 HP )
4 - Jano [ Rook ] : Scavenger ( 40 HP )
5 - Martin [ Nyte ] : Resilient ( 50 HP )
6 - Roy [ Rave ] : Scavenger ( 40 HP )
7 - Steele [ Arx ] : Accurate ( 40 HP )
8 - Verity [ Kari ] : Accurate ( 40 HP )

---

Weapon Rolls:

Asura, Club ( Blunt )
Kly611N21-10

Castor, Switchblade ( Knife )
1-10

Eurydice, Club ( Blunt )
1-10

Jano, Katana ( Sword )
1-10

Martin, Club ( Blunt )
1-10

Roy, Katana ( Sword )
1-10

---

Walker Targets

Walker 1, Martin
1-6

Walker 2, Jano
1-6

Walker 3, Jano
1-6

Walker 4, Martin
1-6

Walker 5, Asura
1-6

---

Continued Weapon Rolls

Steele, Long Blade ( Sword )
1-10

Verity, Long Blade ( Sword )
1-101-10�1-10�1-10�1-10�1-10�1-10�1-6�1-6�1-6�1-6�1-6�1-10�1-10

[rook]

jano karmichael

I count the days on one hand since I last ate. My stomach is churning like some infernal machine, grinding up my insides, turning flesh into mortar. I know that if we don't eat soon, things are going to get a whole lot worse.

Our group has diminished significantly over the past month. We've lost a lot of people - good people. People who I've been with since the start. Their complex interweaving lives were blown out like a flickering flame in a hurricane. It's like a knife in my chest every time I picture their faces. How can something so complex and amazing be gone in an instant? People who I killed for, who killed for me, who died for me. It's like a blackened circle of life - the way things are now.

I look to my sister. She is so resolute. She'd be the last to admit it, but she's holding us all together. I am so immensely proud of her.

Over her shoulder are shadows. Waves of anxiety lapse over me, and I grip the hilt of my blade with an instinct that has become embedded in me over the past few months.

"Walkers, six of them, coming up slow." I speak softly to the rest of the group, pushing myself to my feet.

I stride forwards at the oncoming party and throw down my extended arm at its head.

[Jano attacks Walker #1, Katana]
nCYAMbrosword
[result]

sword

[Python]

castor karmichael

Thirst burrowed itself into her stomach. She had grown accustomed to hunger’s claws in every ripple of her digestive tract, but with the new-found water supply it was difficult to resist drinking everything in one go. Everyone was sick of going hungry. People were getting sick because they were going hungry. The Karmichaels had always been talented scavengers – even before this shit storm started – but if there was nothing left to scavenge, they were at a bump in the road.

The skin around her eye socket itched. She hated the sweat that collected behind her eye patch, but it was too convenient to remove completely. By now, it had become a symbol of strength, defiance, and survival.

That’s what they were – survivors. And it wasn’t just about walkers anymore. There were people, survival groups, raiders, all fighting for the same supplies. One of them had stolen an eye from her. She had claimed his life in return.

His switchblade was in her right hand. Finally she was with a decent weapon again, since the last ones had been stolen from her. She was tired of the “kill or die” law that the apocalypse had forced upon the human race, but there was a point at which she simply stopped caring about what people’s lives meant anymore. It was about putting her own group first. Fuck everything else.

”Walkers, six of them, coming up slow."

She sighed, shoving her canteen back into her rucksack. This was a routine.

[attacks walker #1 - switchblade]
U4iJMlsuknife
Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damage

knife

[Avalon]

[presto][/presto]

Her hands shook as nimble fingers wrapped against the metal of her club, the only weapon she'd managed to survive with throughout the days. It wasn't a sense of anxiety that rushed through her, sending shivers of heat and sweat along every bit of edge that wrapped around her dirt-ridden skin. The rush she felt was adrenaline in its purest form, marked when her wits of survival nearly bit her close enough to the neck- they always say it's survival of the fittest. Thus why she supposed that she outlived the rest of her old crew. Sent to wander aimlessly, she lost her last strand of humanity when she turned and locked her drowning eyes dead set on Arobynn screaming for help, and ripped to shreds by a small hoard. However, she turned away instead, and got her own damn self to a safer place- ( if there even are any of those anymore ) she suggested that they watched their own backs from day one, and that's exactly what she did. It's exactly what she intended to do until the second her last breath is stolen from her own lungs.


Eurydice was never one for many regrets, if even at all. She walked on her own road regardless of risks received, for she somehow happened to make it this far in the Apocalypse. Perhaps she was doing something right all along- just being alone. Though, on the verge of giving in, she was fortunate enough to find this group ( however, it's nothing she'd admit aloud to a living soul. )

”Walkers, six of them, coming up slow."

She said nothing in return, take for an intense eye roll and gnarly grunt matched with a snark drawn across her once porcelain face. Running a travelling hand through her tangled hair, Eurydice bit her bottom lip, drawing only slight blood from dry cracks. It burned, but she didn't mind. In fact, she took pleasure in the sensation.

"Give us a fucking break-"

[ Eurydice attacks Walker #1 ; Club ( Blunt ) ]
RF377mv5200+7000
[ 7191 -- Bruised Left Knee -- 2.5 damage ]
[ Walker #1 is dead ]

eurydice perilia

200+7000

[arx]

Steele

Cassidy

---

---

stuck in my sheets

an accustomed coffin

Click, click, click.

Before this all started I had assumed the deadliest sound my revolver could make was BANG! I was proven wrong the day I ran out of bullets; now all I can hear is the click, click, click of empty barrels and a useless trigger.

"Those kids were gonna die anyway," he sneered, the beginning of a chuckle dripping from his lips. "They were nothing but a burden to you, Steele."

It's pretty difficult to bash a man's head in with the butt of a pistol. But I didn't stop until his brain spattered the sidewalk, painting a picture of rage, hopelessness, and fear. I'd say it was a work of art if I didn't see the faces of the dead orphan kids I'd sworn I'd protect among the smattering of blood and brain matter.

I threw my revolver away in favor of something that didn't click, click, click. I cradled a bag to my chest instead of a crying infant. I opted for military grade rations instead of fruit snacks and alphabet soup. Nightmares danced across the backs of my eyelids, the bedtime stories I once told simply disappearing from memory.

I lost track of how many days it's been a long time ago. Now I'm just a starving, dehydrated mess. Alone. I simply wander as far as my feet allow from sunrise to sunset. I sleep in the trees or in the raftors, I forage what I can and eat dirt for supper when I can't. I haven't seen another living human being since I killed my boss that sweltering summer day.

Until now.

I don't bother with introductions because at this point, I wouldn't mind if they killed me. I simply let my machete speak for my character, slashing at the nearest walker.

i swear that

i'll be fine

---

---

table creds to avalon

[attacks walker 2 (long blade)]
czjeCcLpsword
[Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage]

sword

[kaяi ♕]

verity.

Endless hunger.

Dry mouths.

Sore limbs.

My patience has worn thin along with our numbers. We started with so many, but somehow are down to eight. It's better off this way, they were weak, slowing us down. They were worthless. Only the strong survive out here. My friends are gone and I'm on my own, wandering aimlessly. I watched them get slaughtered one by one. I see a group not far away. There's living members, and my brain counts automatically. Eight. Eight of us that the walkers haven't managed to bring down.

Eight of us that have managed to stay on our feet.

Blood stains my clothes and dirt covers my body. Sweat drips into my eyes and I can feel all the knots in my hair. All I want is a mirror and a chance to fix my makeup. But instead I lay here on the ground, the sky spinning around me, wanting to never get up again, but I know that I must.

I know that it's not an option.

So I force myself up, sword in hand, when the dreaded words hit my ears. "Walkers. six of them, coming up slowly." My knees feel weak, but I still force myself to stand tall. I won't let them see how much I hurt. "These fuckers just don't give up, do they?" I mumble. Sometimes I feel like just giving in, like letting them take me. Sometimes I consider it, but not this time.

Instead I narrow my eyes and swing.

thanks rave xoxo

[attacks walker #2 with sword]
aAyvlyyJsword
[shallow cut on right calf - 3.5]

sword

[Deleted]

r o y ;

Honestly, I never expected for Martin and I to make it this far. 

Every breath feels like stolen time almost, between the hunger pains and watching my own brother suffer - but we're alive, Roy, shouldn't that be good enough? We're alive, Roy, so why isn't it good enough? Even before the apocalypse it was always us two, just the two of us, Martin and I and I and Martin and I should've known to leave it that way; maybe we would've died instead. Hell I don't know, maybe I would've gotten eaten instead, maybe Martin and I could've already died together and I wouldn't have the ringing of Wolfsbane screaming my name as teeth sunk in her jugular. 

And I thought white noise was bad. 

In that drug store I grabbed Martin's hand and left an armada behind - I don't know if any of them survived, I can barely tell that Martin and I are still alive at this point. My hands blur behind tired, hungry eyes and we spent weeks sleeping on store roofs and waking up in panic attacks, a repeated chain of it's not your fault

(but she could still be alive)

But we're still alive.

And I can't tell if that's good enough or not. We got new people, starved hood rats in a group of eight and we're not the only siblings, and I should trust them right? Martin trusts them I think and I guess whether they lead us to life or death I should trust them too, since any ending at this point would be better than- "walkers, six of them, coming  up slow." I grab my knife and lock eyes with Martin. 

"Here's to being fucked up!"

[attacks zombie #4]
i9At5M6L200+2000
[deep gash on ass - 8.0 + 1]

200+2000

[pogue]

[presto][/presto]

A S U R A

They are not human anymore. 

He isn't talking about the walkers.

It took him three weeks to realize that he had to slice through every single string of humanity he had left, bury it deep deep down inside of gear-grinding heart and criss cross wire ribcage. His fingers trace the rust of the toolkit he carries, body wincing in both pain and annoyance as his arm twitches, fidgeting as he goes to move it. Metal against metal, circuit to circuit, he can consider his mechanical arm a blessing as much as a curse, eyes falling upon the bite marks that scrape against the metal surface of his skin, nails loose in the places where the bastards had tried to rip it clean off his body. 

His fingertips wrap around the screwdriver, eyes falling to the ground as he lifts it out of the toolbox. There's dried specks of blood littered along the silver shaft of the tool, but it isn't a walkers. In a weird way, he wishes it was. In an even weirder way, he even wishes it was his own.

They were not human anymore, the way they came at them with everything they had. Two groups of survivors, blood still flowing, hearts still beating.

Teeth still bared, weapons still raised.

He'd tried to strangle the kid, at first, but his arm wouldn't stop fidgeting, electric snaps accompanying the boy's weakening pounding against his forearms.

So he'd driven the screwdriver straight through his skull.

They were not human anymore. 

He's in the midst of tightening the screws in his arm when he hears Jano.

"Walkers, six of them, coming up slow." 

No matter how slow the bastards moved, they always found them.

He closes his eyes, he breathes what very well could be his last breath, slamming his toolbox shut. Weird how as useful as the toolbox was for repairs, it was just as useful for splattering the brain matter of zombies everywhere. 

No, they aren't human anymore.

But maybe it's better that way.

[presto][/presto]

{Attacks Walker #4 with toolbox (blunt)}

h029Wb4ublunt

{Bruised Right Foot -- 2.0 damage}

blunt

[gamemaker artemie 🦉nyte]

M A R T I N

I've never seen a walker. According to Roy they're disgusting things- ugly and rotting and dragging their feet along the cement. Their stench hangs in the air like a morning fog and I cannot escape. It is death's embrace, iron and rot everywhere I turn.

I haven't thought about the others- not since we ran away and they were screaming and I was trying not to cry. At this point, I'm not trying to do anything but keep us alive. Roy and me. Maybe even the other's we've met up with. I've only caught glimpses of a few of them, seen past this shadow's veil into a their long dead eyes. I stay near Roy. They scare me.

I'm not as charismatic as him, never had the same way with words. Roy makes the deals, I listen. Sometimes - if the horde is large enough - I can hear them coming before the others can see them. Most of time I'm useless. A cripple. But I'm not ready to die.

He says they're coming- I recognize his voice. Like the crashing of waves against rocks that I listened to so long ago to lull myself back to sleep when the nights were hot and fever dreams clung to rungs in my spine. Back when Uncle Merlin was alive and I could pretend that I was something more than nothing at all. "Walkers, six of them, coming up slow."

We're used to this by now. All I've got is a wrench trapped between shaking fingers but I guess it'll have to do. When Roy's eyes meet mine all I can give him is a smile, a tight one that turns my lips white with the strain. (Here's to being fucked up.)

I roll my eyes because they aren't useful for much else.

[attacks walker #2]
t66gLTZoblunt
[Block -- 0.0 damage]blunt

[Avalon]

1 - Asura [ Pogue ] : Medic ( 30 HP )
2 - Castor [ Python ] : Leader ( 30 HP )
3 - Eurydice [ Avalon ] : Resilient ( 50 HP )
4 - Jano [ Rook ] : Scavenger ( 40 HP )
5 - Martin [ Nyte ] : Resilient ( 50 HP )
6 - Roy [ Rave ] : Scavenger ( 40 HP )
7 - Steele [ Arx ] : Accurate ( 40 HP )
8 - Verity [ Kari ] : Accurate ( 40 HP )

---

Walker Health

Walker 1 ( HP: 0 ) - Target Martin
Walker 2 ( HP: 3 ) - Target Jano
Walker 3 ( HP: 10 ) - Target Jano
Walker 4 ( HP: 0 ) - Target Martin
Walker 5 ( HP: 10 ) - Target Asura

---

Walker Attacks

Walker 2, Jano - 49 : Deep Scratch [6.0]
x76WYj8U1-60

Walker 3, Jano - 39 : Shallow Scratch [3.5]
1-60

Walker 5, Asura - 52 : Limb Bite [8.0]
1-60


1-60�1-60�1-60

[rook]

jano karmichael

Congealed blood oozes black down the head of what used to be a human being. Over the weeks and months, I have forced myself not to see them as people. They're just vessels - reanimated dead bodies. It's a one way process, so we have to look at them as something completely different. That's the only way to make any of this easier on our consciences.

That said, having a conscience will get you killed these days. The biggest threat hasn't been the walkers, it's been other people. I didn't expect it to be like that, but desperate people are more dangerous than any hoarde.

Castor lost her eye in a firefight. It fills me with dread every time I look at it, even more so when I have to change the bandage. She's lucky to even be alive, we know that. Fuck knows how she stayed conscious for long enough to shoot the asshole in the head before she passed out. It was a miracle she didn't die from the blood loss. That's my sister though, a born survivor.

She comes over and helps me with the walker. All the time I'm taking steady steps backwards, keeping my distance. They're not overly dangerous in small numbers in open spaces. It's in close quarters with little room to manoeuvre that they become more of a threat, or when there's a sheer congestion of them.

Eurydice finishes the job, taking out its legs and then smashing the brain with her club. I'm sceptical about her. I only really trust my sister, but we've been with this group for a few months now. Eurydice is reckless. She always moves too quickly for my liking, always rushing. In the past she's said hesitation will get me killed, but her lack of consideration will get her killed.

Steele and Verity attempt to dispatch a walker of their own, whilst Roy and Asura successfully take down and finish another.

The other two advance quickly, and before I can turn two of them are on me. I try and hold one away from me, but the second one comes too fast, slashing at my arm with frayed nails. It cuts me, and I wince, dropping my guard. The second one lashes out and cuts me deeper. I drop my sword and fall onto my back, crying out. I glance to my sister, and to the figure behind her.

"Castor, Martin!!" I plead.

I hear a scream and turn to see a walker plunging it's teeth into Asura.

Fuck. Fuck. This is all going to shit.

I pick up my sword quickly and drive it at the bastard prick who slashed at me. I don't care if it used to be alive.

[Jano attacks Walker #2, Katana]
eJxLkUNJsword
[Severed Right Foot -- 9.0]
[Leader bonus -- 1.0]

"Die fucker."

sword

[Python]

castor karmichael

The walker’s jerky movements toward Martin drew her like a magnet. Her knife cleaved its shoulder instead of the head, and she grunted in irritation. The identical twins were a package deal; there was no one without the other, and she understood why. Nobody believed her when she insisted that she and Jano were also twins. They would only accept “siblings,” but that word alone couldn’t explain their bond. That’s why she understood the need to keep Martin in the group. Not as a meat shield, but as a person with equal rights. Another survivor to protect.

Still, the blindness made him vulnerable. She would not except burden as a word to describe him, but she would continue to make up for his loss no matter what. Eurydice finished the job before it caused certain disaster, forcing the walker to topple over so she could bash its rotten brains in. Walkers always smelled like shit.

Roy and Asura disposed of the second. She often wondered how this band of misfits had managed to cooperate for this long. When would there be a betrayal, or the inevitable death that shattered them to pieces? Castor didn’t paint herself as pessimistic, but in this world there was no anticipating a perfect group forever. Something was bound to go wrong.

”I never knew ‘fucked up’ was a good thing,” she mumbled, slightly amused. Only in the apocalypse could “fucked up” be used in such a positive way. It was almost reassuring.

Then the world pulled the shit it always did – proving her realistic attitude true. A walker sank its teeth into Asura’s flesh and fuck, he was either dead or maimed. Neither was something she wanted to fucking deal with, but in the heat of the moment she could shove it aside and focus on what mattered.

Walkers on her brother.

”Incoming!”

[attacks walker #3 - switchblade]
TavgOXkOknife
Deep Gash on Forehead -- 9.0 damage
+1 leader

walker #3 dead

knife

[Avalon]

[presto][/presto]

The world has been moving far too quickly in her mind recently. Forcing her mind to pry from the reminiscence of prior thoughts and memories that dwell upon the rubble of her stature. Languidly, the steel pipe she wields between arms, that have steamed into flaccid connections of no usefulness, nearly drops with a clank to the paved ground.

Eurydice is tired already, having not eaten in days, rationing off the food they all had and it wasn't enough. Feeling the pressure along the waistline of her hips, its become almost a struggle to move step by step, though she supposes she has to.

She cannot tell how long it has been since she was much stronger than them, turning away from the names calling out to her as they faded in the groans of death. It took the saying "dead men walking" far more seriously than an interpretation, because now all the ones she'd known before were among these. She is sick, unconcerned anymore at others who're not herself, and that's why it was so damn easy for her to turn away from Arobynn as she watched her life get stolen through wicked bites and torn flesh to reveal simply nothing- and she could've sworn it was her. Though, here she wasn't allowed to turn away, because she was finally coming to accept she'd been lingering on her last strings of hope at this point.

So instead, she attacked tiredly.
Dazed and confused.

[ Eurydice attacks Walker #5 ; Club ( Blunt ) ]
09rJcui8200+7000
[ 7085 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage ]

eurydice perilia

200+7000

[arx]

Steele

Cassidy

---

---

stuck in my sheets

an accustomed coffin

I've only known them for a few months, but it feels like it's been years. It's been awhile since I first joined this unlikely crew of survivors. I know them like the back of my own hand—hell, I know them better than I know myself. Habits, ideals, quirks, past times, lost dreams. I suppose we're sort of like a family now. Fighting together, starving together, dying together. A storybook ending to a tale that is all too familiar to me.

I should've learned by now that I work better alone. Or at least that I can't get anyone killed but myself if I'm alone.

But I've never been the brightest of the bunch. Takes me a few tries to get the point across. Hit me once and I'll need another few licks to realize I'll end up dead if I don't defend myself. ("How many times did your parents drop you on your head as a child?") I always made sure to answer my bosses with a smile—"Enough to get the job done."

I used to have a purpose. I used to have kids that I loved and fought hard to protect. So when I happened upon this sorry crew of misfits so many months ago it was easy enough to fit right in. I may have killed opposing gang members for a living, but I've never been a fighter. Killing has only ever been something necessary for survival.

Watching Asura and Jano struggle against the walkers is enough to keep me going, to keep me fighting. Enough to get the job done.

i swear that

i'll be fine

---

---

table creds to avalon

[attacks walker 5 (long blade)]
4C47sWR5sword
[Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage]

sword

[kaяi ♕]

verity.

Tired eyes and broken bodies. 

I barely make a scratch on it, and frustration takes over. This isn't how it's supposed to be. I watch as two other Walkers fall, and I can't help but feel jealousy. I'm supposed to be the one making a difference, not being useless. Those who do nothing don't last long. I rub my hands on my shirt, hoping to wipe away some of the dry blood. 

Hoping to wipe away the past.

The smell of blood fills the air. I thought that I'd be used to it by now, but it's still as sickening as the very first day. Their blood spills onto the ground and I watch, wide eyed. The Walkers have no remorse for who they affect, for what they do. They did not care when they attacked my family. They did not care when I screamed.

They weren't given a chance to care once I killed them.

But me, I still cared. I cared from the moment they mercilessly slaughtered my mother, my father, and my brother. I cared when I took the gun and pointed it at my sisters. I cared when I pulled the trigger, ending her pain.

I've cared ever since.

omg wip because im terrible and slow 

thanks rave xoxo

[attacks alive zombie]
rfKnJltLsword
[sc - 3.5 bless]sword