Accepted Characters:

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Rules:

1- All of the wonderful WolfPlay rules

2- Hate the character, not the player

3- No overpowered, perfect, or otherwise supernaturally gifted characters. Yes, zombies exist, but I’m not letting anyone make their own Doomslayer to rip & tear through their enemies, or an impossibly beautiful/handsome character

4- PLEASE feel free to add your own drama, subplots, and plot twists! I can’t think up everything, and what you do will flesh out the world! So have fun!

5- Reservations last 48 hours! I’ll PM people whose time has run out

6- Overthink101 is my partner with this RP, and have all the rights I do in acceptance/denial and plotting

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Head up your posts similar to the below example, please:

Name/Age/Current Gender/Alliegance/Mentions:

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Cain Ferrasol/23/Male/Loner/Mentions: Open

He snapped awake at the sound of a low, warbling caw, slowly pulling himself out of his sleeping bag. The sound wasn't a warning, so he could take his time waking up and packing his supplies away. The bag was rolled tightly up, the tent folded up, and his bag packed up. Cain pulls out an old granola bar to have for breakfast as he starts wandering about. Maybe he'd find some more food, or even better, water. The old building he'd slept in appeared to have been an office of some kind, what with the busted computers, desks, and cubicle walls. Not so wonderfully, the door had apparently been covered in sand by the wind overnight. Sighing to himself, Cain pulls his foldable trench shovel from the back of his rucksack to dig his way out. It wasn't much sand, thankfully, so it didn't take him more than twenty or so minutes. He couldn't be totally sure, what with the lack of watch. Maybe he should look for one, just a simple wristwatch. Hopefully with either long battery life or some sort of solar charging capacity. Though he wouldn't have anything to sync it up to, he'd still be able to get a good estimate of how long he spent doing stuff.

When he finally broke through to fresh air, Cain could see that the sun was only just peeking up over the horizon. There wasn't anything shambling out on the streets right then, at least. Cain stepped out fully into the predawn light, and automatically compensated for the sudden weight on his shoulder as Kylar alighted on him. He found a hand already instinctivly combing through her breast feathers while Ky fluffed herself up like the world's greatest queen. She cooed gently at him, and he did his best to mimic the sound. Maybe it was stupid trying to master eagle cries, but he was kind of bored with the whole 'nothing to do' thing, so he might as well. Hey, Kylar was a surprsingly good teacher. Dad wouldn't believe that he'd been learning to speak Eagle. And now he was depressing himself. It didn't matter right now, he didn't have any way to go find him, and the old man was probably dead by now. He'd been getting on in years even before dead bodies started wandering about. And dad wasn't far enough from civilization to have been completely isolated from the walking dead for four years. Cain had already mourned him, it wouldn't do to get his hopes up against all logic. Sure, it would be great if old man Ferrasol had lived this long, and he could actually find him. But it wasn't likely, so put the thought back into it's box.

Kylar ran her beak through his choppy hair, and took off to check for zombies and maybe something for her to eat. Cain was walking east along the side streets in order to avoid any large packs of the dead, and particularly large sand dunes. A soft metallic creaking caught his ear, and Cain immediatly froze and reached for a knife. His eyes snapped over to the source, and his muscles slowly untensed when he reasilzed that it was just a sign moving in the breeze. It was for a bookstore, and in surprisingly decent quality, relative to the rest of the city. It was something to do, at elast, so might as well check it out. Might find some good books. With that thought in mind, Cain pushed the sand-worn door inwards to enter. Thankfully the place didn't have a physical chime or bell attached to the door. If there had ever been an auditory cue in the first place, it must have been electronic. And since that gang of slavers had taken over the only remaining functional power plant, they'd cut the electricity to any area not under their control. He'd still be careful, there mmight be something in here. First thing to do would be case the place. It was only two floors, with maybe a basement, though that would be unlikely. The first floor was empty, and there was no apparent basement, so Cain crept his way up the stairs. And, yep, there it was. It wasn't paranoia if they were really out to get you! And in this case, 'they' were the seemingly infinite hordes of the undead come to chomp on anything with a heartbeat. It was just staring into a corner, halfways facing away from him. Being the practical sort, Cain pulled one of his more balanced knives and pitched the steel into the thing's temple. It collapsed onto the wooden flooring, and Cain waited for any others on the level to come check it out. Since none did, that meant the whole place was either clear, or any others were blocked in a certain area. Either way, good news for him. He'd still check out the whole floor, of course, just to be safe, but the bookstore wasn't big enough to be hiding a large number of corpses.

There was nothing else in the building, so he was safe to look through it for a while. While Cain was retrieving his throwing knife, he searched the zombie. It only really had keys, so it had probably been the owner or a worker. The keys would get him into any locked containers, at least. The second floor in its entirety didn't net him too much, just a can of bacon and beans left unspoiled in the kitchen space of the clearly residential section. Cain stalked his way back down to the bookshelves, and started to look through the lines for undamaged & interesting titles. He immediatly grabbed a few on metallurgy, took one on navigational astronomy, a paper brick about the German language, and an entire stack of those apocalypse survival guides, just to see how accurate they had been. They'd be fun to laugh at, at the very least. The biographies were bypassed entirely, and he made his way over to the fiction books to look for something light to enjoy when he needed a break from the drier tomes. The start of a science fiction series, some kind of high fantasy novel, and a book that looked like it would be a crime against the English language that he could use for kindling. Yeah, book burning was usually thought of in a negative connotation, what with the Nazis and their whole schtick, but sometimes when the dead start wandering about looking to eat everybody, it was better to just use the stuff that wouldn't be missed as fuel. Because really, was... Pickup Artistry; The Guide worth preserving? He'd flipped through it just for a laugh, at it honestly read more like some white teenage male still dealing with a messy breakup trying to sound intelligent and charismatic while also emulating more professional military-style tactics manuals. Serious, after the first few pages, it exclusivly refered to women as 'targets', 'marks', and other such terms. After bagging the future food cooker, Cain noticed a stationary section. It was, kind of unsurprsingly, still pretty full. People weren't exactly interested in looting bookstores, clearly, especially for its notebooks and art supplies, meager as they were. A few battery-powered clip lights were rapidly added to his haul, along with a bunch of battery packs so he could use them for longer. Light was very important, especially now that battery supplies were starting to become genuinely uncommon. It wasn't too difficult, but compared to before, when the things were everywhere, it would be better to be safe rather than sorry. Cain could vaguely remember that the Army therapist had reccomended that the soldiers returning from active war zones pick up something to help them deal with the trauma. So on a whim, he grabbed a decent stack of hardbacked notebooks, lined and not, as well as a bunch of pens and mechanical pencils. Plus erasers. Because mechanical pencil erasers lasted about as long as a mouse under Kylar's claws. With his new goodies packed up and out of sight, Cain finally made his way back onto the sidestreets, his bird following behind.

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Adox Wesson/19/Male/Loner/Mentions: Open

The first thing Adox was aware of was the feeling of dog saliva across his face. He opened his eyes, thoroughly awake now, and playfully mock glared at the grinning source of his wakefulness. Zapped was crouching in front of his face, tounge lolling as he breathed his doggy morning breath straight up Adox's nostrils. Reyna was still curled on top of his duffle bag, but was obviously awake. "Mmm up, mmm up. Go 'way, lemme move." He grumbled quietly to the excitable dog, rolling over to stand when he was finally given enough space to do so. Reyna gracefully padded off his bag, because apparently both his dogs were more morning people than he was. Godsdamned teenagerdom. Curse you, hormones and excessive need for sleep! Adox rifled through the outside of his duffle for a water bottle and took a sip before he poured some into the oversized cap for Zapped and Reyna to drink from. It took several top ups, because the cap was wide rather than deep, but both drank their fill, and Ox tried to decide what to have for breakfast. He didn't have a lot of variety, but today felt like a good day, so he was gonna start it off right. He had to take off a gauntlet to open the can of wet dog food, but it was totally worth it to watch as Reyna and Zapped began to eye each other and the can to determine who would have the best chance of getting the most. Adox grinned at the two's antics, and divided the meaty paste as evenly as he could between the two. Both seemed to believe that they had indeed had the larger portion, and seemed intent on lording that percieved fact over the other. Dogs trying to out-haughty the others would never get old. Ox ruffled both their furs with his hand before reattaching the metal armor and stretching languidly. He grimaced at the soft cracks and pops that followed the action, trying to shake out the ached from sleeping in not only a nearly full suit of steel armor, but also without any kind of padding between him and the ground. Now for the hardest part of waking up. Each hand had to be carefully flexed in order to rework more dexterous mobility into the fingers. It was a consequence of being so big, his joints were off just a tad. With that done, Adox hoisted his massive dufflebag over his shoulders like a backpack and started walking.

He didn't meet any zombies on his way to the section's commercial area, so that was pretty great. He was a little too big and clanky to sneak past even the least sensitive, so he often had to fight whatever he came across. Shaking off his thoughts, Adox stopped before a decrepit pet store. The automatic door was stuck open, so there might or might not be zombies inside. It was kind of a tossup of whether the dead would be trapped inside a building or locked outside of it. Inside, Ox couldn't stop the instantaneous grimace. There were a bunch of cages, that had all once been filled with animals for sale. Now, four years after the city collapsed, there were only bones. The aquatic tanks were especially rank with rotted fish. Zapped sneezed, and Reyna snorted in a manner that Adox like to imagine was derisive. Some cages were open and empty, and while Ox hoped that the animals once inside had either escaped or been set free, but the blood inside some of them told him that they had probably been eaten. And because the cages had been opened like they were supposed to be, without damage, it had probably been other survivors instead of the zombies. At least that meant they had probably died quickly. But the once-occupents of this pet store was not his goal. Instead, it was both dog food and toys. Because his pups deserved the best.

He quickly snatched a few various cans of wet dog food, filled with all sorts of different foods so that they could have all sorts of different minerals and vitamins. He wasn't anywhere close to an expert on dog nutrition, so a wide variety was probably best. Along one row was the dry food bags, most of them torn open by hungry strays looking for an easy meal. But, jackpot! On the upper shelves, in the back, sat a few large bags of unopened pellets. He could carry that, he was strong enough. So Adox grabbed one that looked like it had a really tough bag and stuffed it to the bottom of his duffle. There, now he wouldn't have to deal with finding more for his dogs for a good while if he rationed it right. The torn-open bags were mostly unslavageable, but he was able to grab a few good, large chunks of the plasticy material that weren't torn at all.

Now on to the toys! Zapped capered and danced around in excitement in front of him, and Adox smiled behind his full-face helmet. Reyna walked in a much more dignified manner, but she was also quite clearly just as energetic. He gestured towards the asiles full of toys, and neither dog needed more encouragment. Both shot off to find something they liked, and while they were distracted by choosing the perfect chew toys, Ox quickly stuffed a few bags of hard peanut butter flavored dog biscuits into his duffle. Maybe they weren't the most healthy for them, but Reyna and Zapped deserved a reward for their hard work! Just as he finished hiding the treats in the bottom with the dry food, because his puppers were very smart and would sneak their way through his bag if they thought something tasty might be hiding inside, Zapped came stumbling back. At first, Adox was worried he'd hurt himself, but there wasn't any wimpering or blood. Zapped was actually just dragging a very large, very fluffy dog bed behind him on the linoleum tiles. It was more than big enough to fit both of the dogs, and more besides actually, he mused as Zapped dropped the edge he had in his mouth to turn and grin at him. Reyna was not too far behind, carrying with her a thick rope with rubber-plastic-ish ends, clearly designed for tug-of-war, and a soft stuffed puppy plush. Adox crouched down to look at what his pets had chosen for themselves, half wondering how he could carry the bed. The toys were easy to fit in his ridiculously oversized duffle bag, but the bed wouldn't be near so simple. But they were both giving him the puppy eyes, and curse his bleeding heart, he'd find a way.

He gave the plush dog an experimental squeeze, just in case it turned out to be a sqeeky toy, but it thankfully wasn't. It was a pretty tough material, which was probably why it had survived this long, so it was fine. Ox dropped the two toys into his bag, and turned back to the bed to consider how exactly he could carry it. Adox tilted his head slightly to the side, and got an idea. He stood back up and moved to the leash-and-collar aisle. Adox grabbed two of the longest and thickest still left in the store, black and grey zig-zag patterned strip of weaved nylon. With those in hand, he went back to the bed and bundled it up as tightly as he could, kind of like how sleeping bags were supposted to be rolled, except it was weirdly shapped bceause it was actually a dog bed. Anyway, once it was wrapped tightly, he bound it with the leashes so it would stay rolled up and the bottom would be the only part exposed to the elements when he walked around. However, the leashes weren't long enough to also attach to his duffle bag, so he went back to the last aisle to grab more of his makeshift rope in order to properly secure the bed to his bag. With that done, Adox stepped back out into the streets with Reyna and Zapped at his heels.

{This may have been sitting on my laptop for a very long time}

Louis Lee Jackson | Male | 22 | Bi | Loner | M: N/a

Bam!

Bam bam bam!!

Louis was panting heavily, his bat held shakily in his bloody hands. God, he felt adrenaline still coursing through his body like a fat bug crawling under his skin. Louis took a deep breath and swallowed down the knot in his throat as he straightened his stance. Laying before him laid the crumbled and distorted body of a zombie. Louis was lucky it was just a normal one. In the abandoned apartment building, a broken mirror sat on the dresser across from Louis and the twitching, now headless zombie. It wasn’t that Louis decapitated the zombie. It was that Louis had bashed the zombie’s head in until it was no longer visible. Either way, looking at the broken, dirty mirror allowed Louis to see himself for a change. His face was covered in blood, blood that wasn’t his own, and his whole body shaking. He hadn’t gotten a good look at himself for a long time. Dark, muddy, and messy skin and even darker, muddier, and messier hair with a stubble he’s tried his best to keep shaven down. His clothes were raggedy and his duffle bag was held close to his body. He stepped closer to the mirror, over the lifeless body and just stared for a moment in an almost disbelief. His eyes looked blood shot with bags under them and a sort of craziness to them. A slow, quiet chuckle escaped his lips. That just made him sound crazier as he tried to shakily wipe the blood off with one hand, causing it to smear down his face.

“Damn… I look motherfuckin’ good for once,” Louis mumbled, admiring himself with a genuine smile for once. “A bit like shit… But hella masculine.” Louis generally struggled with that part of him. The less masculine areas of himself. How his hips were a bit bigger than normal, his voice was still high despite the pills, and how he could occasionally see the bandages that wrap his chest to flatten it. All of that made him feel so damn discomforted in his own body. Sometimes he wished he could crawl out of his skin and steal someone else’s. It’s not like a dead person would need it either. Speaking of dead people. “Fuckin’ nasty shit…” Louis hissed with his heavy Louisiana accent down at the body beneath him. He felt bad for the zombies, it wasn’t their fault, but he still hated them. Something Louis had noticed though, is that he looked good covered in blood. Maybe he was crazy- no duh, he was definitely crazy- but blood made him look cooler. Badass. Bitching. Louis loved those cheesy 80s slang. Bitching was one of those words.

Enough looking at himself like a narcissist. Louis needed to continue getting supplies. Louis felt comfortable staying on this apartment floor for at least a week. It was close enough to the ground that he could jump out if needed and still survive, but too high for zombies to reach. He still needed to set up traps but that’d only take a few more minutes. This was the last room he needed to search and, just his luck, a zombie. Which he quickly got rid of. As you can still see it’s bloody remains splattered on the floor. Voices at the back of his head whispered he was a monster. That he killed a man. Louis didn’t. He didn’t kill a man, he killed a zombie. Plus, surely this wasn’t a good man either. Maybe. Hopefully. This zombie in a ragged and torn suit and tie, was one of the people that died from the infection since the man still bled. He looked like a business man of sorts and still had a pen tucked away in his chest pocket. It looked like the zombie had been stuck in the room for a while as scratch markings and cracks covered the inside of the room. Maybe Louis would like to think that this, the bloody mess he’d left spilling into the rotting wood floors, was justifiable, but his imagination went wild. Maybe this guy was a white dude by the name of Chad. Chad Winters. Chad Mayonnaise Winters. That’s the most goddamn white asshole name ever, right? Well, maybe this Chad guy was having an affair or something with this hot chick. A real hot gal. Lisa.That’s a hot girl name, right? Maybe Becky is a better name, but too late to change it now. Anyways, Chad is waiting for Lisa in the apartment when the whole apocalypse starts and the shit hits the fan. Chad hears someone at the door, thinking it’s Lisa but boom! It’s a zombie! Huge surprise there. Cue the dramatic music and all. Chad screams like a little bitch he is and gets bit. He shoves the zombie away and locks himself in the room. He slowly turns and becomes a dumb zombie. The kind of zombie that can’t do jack shit. Chad stayed in the room like a pathetic dope and didn’t survive long enough to tell the wife he was cheating on that he was sorry for cheating. Even though he wasn’t.

Yeah, that made Louis feel a bit better about killing that zombie and being a blood-loving monster.

Traps. Right. He needed to set up traps. Focus. He always had a few ropes on him, don’t get the wrong idea, and also strings for his normal set of traps. Trip wires and something he calls ‘surprise grenades.’ He had stolen a few from a mostly already raided military base. They didn’t work, but if any person saw them, they would mostly focus on the empty grenade rather than the harder to see traps, making it so that they fall into something much easier. It was good to have them. Even in the apocalypse, his main threats, zombies and the whole apocalypse, aren’t just the only problem, but the people around him were a part of it. He could never trust people. Not ever. Not after everything people did to him. In all fairness, he had traded his maps for food with other colonies of people, but he never stayed around other people for long. Especially not now. Not when he had so much to lose. He set up a few traps by the staircase so if any zombie came up there’d be a few small traps set out at least. Part of Louis wanted to set up one of his long elaborate traps, but he was just tired. He hadn’t slept in… Well, Louis was always paranoid to the max so you can imagine that he barely sleeps much at all, even in a completely safe environment. Maybe that would explain the heavy bags under his eyes.

Louis laughed to himself. He sounded like a maniac while doing it, but he couldn’t help it. Why was he laughing? Well, he didn’t fully know. He just couldn’t stop himself. He felt like a maniacal villain after all the traps were set up, waiting for the hero to stumble into them. Louis was laughing so much he swears his ribs broke as he leaned into the wall and slowly slid down it to the ground. Staring at the traps, his laughter slowly faded but he could feel how itchy and painful his leg was. His leg was scarred and twisted ever-so-slightly and sometimes, on bad days, his leg would be incredibly itchy and painful as if he had to face all of the horrors that caused the pain again in the first place. He laughed again, this time much, much quieter. Softer. Less joyful. As if Louis had been told the same joke twice. His hands twitched to reach and scratch at his leg, but he laughed more and more to somehow stop himself. Funny thing was, the more he laughed, the more he felt like he was going to cry.

“I am soooo goin’ fucking insane, aren’t I?” Louis laughed bitterly as he looked up at the ceiling. But he wasn’t looking at the ceiling. He was looking beyond that. Louis swears he hears things a lot. Whether it's his hyper-active imagination that makes him think this or just his head is more fucked up than he thought, yet he swears he hears ghosts. People. Voices. Sometimes even small whispers from ‘God.’ He knows it's not God that talks to him, just his own fucked up head, but he lets himself pretend sometimes. Maybe he would just like to believe he was special. Maybe that’s why he hears it. But maybe he just wants to be accepted by the man who tortured him so much. Either way, he argues with his own fake God that has infested his brain. After all, He caused everything to be as bad as it is.

This is the punishment for your sins.

Louis just started screaming. “Well fuck you too, God!!” A smile still was carved into his face like the pictures of people depicted in the glass windows of Churches, always smiling even despite whatever is happening in the image. He looked down at the ground, shaking his head as his voice quieted to a mumble. “Punishment for my sins? Punishment for my- Why of all the fucking people-” Louis let out a roaring laughter, throwing his head back into the wall. “You never gave a rat’s ass for me before and I guess you’ll still treat me like shit now, huh? Huh?! You just-” Louis waved his hands in the air angrily- “sit up there on your big ass fancy throne! Not looking and helping anyone! Anyone!!” Louis swallowed down sobs and another laugh before curling into a small, tight ball. Wishing he could disappear. “Anyone like me…”

After what felt like an eternity, Louis picked himself up, trying not to talk to the voices that filled his head as he stumbled to an empty room and one devoid of Chad.

Cuinn Guiomar Murphy | Genderfluid | 21 | Pan | Grocery Store Pals | M: Adbrei

“Soooooo… Whatcha wanna do today?” Cuinn asked in a strong Irish accent. “Something… Fun maybe?” Cuinn sighed, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. Cuinn leaned one shoulder against the wall as she sported her skirt and stared at Adbrei with calm eyes. She’d worn her pants and other pair of clothes for almost two weeks not long before and yesterday had to hand pick all of the dirt out of her clothes. It was exhausting work, but almost methodical. A nice relaxing thing, almost as if sewing, but just about the opposite. Instead of making something he was destroying it, eliminating the dirt out of his clothes. But today Cuinn wasn’t in a slow methodical mood. They wanted something fun to do. Cuinn sighed softly and shrugged. “I’m guessing you have something though? Knowing you at least.” Cuinn narrowed his eyes briefly as his much smaller friend. “But nothing too dangerous that’ll put you in harm's way this time, please.”

Cuinn had known Adbrei for the longest time. Well, not the longest time, exactly but a long time. Who the hell were they kidding though? The apocalypse was the longest time in the goddamn world. Four years. Four long fucking years of it. Of course, Cuinn and Adbrei had met before that, but that doesn’t mean those years weren’t long either. Even before that, senior year, shit was rough and it was hard as hell then. Dealing with the pub turned strip club, her dad, and just struggling with his grades in math and science. All of it was just so overwhelming. All of that seems like nothing though compared to… well, the goddamn apocalypse outside the doors of the off-brand Walmart store since Neeran was too poor of a city to even afford stores like that. Fuck, they were lucky they had a 7/11 gas station by the north edge of town. Together, the two of them had lived in the store for such a long time that days blurred together. If Cuinn hadn’t thought of tallying every day they had been there in the store on the back wall by the frozen meat section where a lot of the meat once had been, Cuinn wouldn’t even realize they had reached the four year anniversary. It was a side milestone, normally she’d never say this out loud, but she hoped this four year old shit head would stop living already. Cuinn never thought they’d say this, let alone think this, but Cuinn was glad they went to the hospital that one fateful day. That day when things got a bit shittier. More so than normal for them as well. Anyways, they met Adbrei in the hospital and well, the two just clicked. Cuinn joked around that he found his raccoon-like friend in the dumpster of the pub, but he seriously enjoyed his company. Even when he felt like a parent to Adbrei. Or like a bodyguard of a tiny Lord Farquhar from Shrek. God, his sister loved that movie when they were growing up.

Speaking of her sister, Cuinn’s sister, Emily, was… amazing. So accepting and sweet, which was more than Cuinn could say for her dad. Cuinn could never tell her dad about… well, multiple things really. From being Genderfluid to being Pansexual to not wanting to be apart of the greasy sex show that had came from the once good Irish Pub. All of that was important for Cuinn. None of it was important to her dad and Cuinn sadly knew it. His dad would never have cared and brushed it off like all of his problems. ‘Just go have fun at the bar, son.’ or ‘Why don’t you just pick yourself a nice girl from the bar, huh son?’ or hell even ‘I know what’s best for my own damn family and if you want to help your sister you’ll do as I say.’ All that bullshit. All of it. All of that shit, his younger sister helped him through. Emily gave them three bracelets: one blue, one red, and one purple. She was so young… She barely understood what Genderfluid meant and never wanted to call them by the wrong pronoun though. Emily was such a considerate kid like that. So Emily made those bracelets. If Cuinn preferred one gender over another that day, Emily would know. The blue for he/him pronouns, she/her was that reddish pink color, and finally the nice lavender colored bracelets was for they/them. At the moment, Cuinn was wearing all of the beaded bracelets.

God, Cuinn loved Emily’s bracelets...

Gwyar ‘Aries’ Ariethous Fraoch | 22 | Male | Demi(HML) | Slave | Mentions; Nic(Ind.), Open

Deep in the slave’s part of the arena, where they would go whenever not in a fight, was Gwyar. He would be going soon, he knew, but he also knew that he might as well tell some stories beforehand. He was one of the few that never lost a fight, but in the off chance that he was someday beaten… He at least wanted to be able to tell every Greek myth in order. In chronological order.

--

And so, he was reciting a myth to a small audience as a fight took place. The one fighting was one of the ones that never lost either. He didn’t know if the two would ever fight- But he hoped not. Not because he was worried about losing, definitely not. But because the fighter apparently only had three things keeping them alive. Knives, speed, and intelligence. And he hated to say this, or even think this, but he had all three things too. The fight wouldn’t be fair for them, not when he almost never used anything but himself in the arena.

--

Over the four years, he’d been here for three. And in that time, he’d gotten more than half way through the myths. Right now he was telling the myth about Jason and the Argonauts. He was fairly close to finishing what he wanted to do, but of course- He wasn’t going to stop winning when he finished just because he’d finished. He’d probably start taking requests of people’s favorites.

--

Eventually, a girl that looked as if they just got out of a fight was walking in the room, she probably had just been in a fight though. And so, he assumed that she was the unbeaten one. He didn’t pause in his myth telling though, knowing that when he was needed for a battle that the guards would come to escort him themselves. They always did. After what happened with that one big guy, they didn’t want to risk him escaping instead of coming out to fight. He didn’t see the point in that, he’d be able to beat the guards if he wanted to though he wouldn’t get far out of the arena.

--

Now that he thought about this, he’d been undefeated in the underground fight pits that he’d been involved in before the apocalypse too. And the ones that knew his reputation from there… He didn’t miss the looks that they gave him, some of anger and some of fear. He always hated whenever one of them was going up against him, because some of them would simply give up and others would fight with a rage incomparable, and he’d still win.

--

The voices were relatively quiet today, they always were except for after a fight. Something he decided to relate to the fact that he was telling Greek myths. They were always quieter for the myths, as if wanting to hear them just as much as the small audience he had in front of him. He knew that once his fight was over though, they’d be loud and he wouldn’t be able to think enough to tell any myths.

Adbrei Akaiti Kennaway | 21 | Male | Demi/Gray Aro (MAL) | Grocery Store Pals | Mentions; Cuinn

“Soooooo… Whatcha wanna do today? Something… Fun maybe?”

--

Adbrei thought for a moment, an idea coming to mind fairly quickly. Sure, it wasn’t his best idea, but it would be pretty fun. Climb the aisle rack and jump from aisle to aisle. Or see if it’s possible for someone to survive getting run over. That one especially sounded fun to him, a small grin making an appearance.

--

“I’m guessing you have something though? Knowing you at least. But nothing too dangerous that’ll put you in harm's way this time, please.”

--

He sighed dramatically, his sitting spot on the floor quickly turning to him laying down just to further sell his disappointment. He probably should’ve seen that coming, the last few fun things they’d done usually involved him being put into harm's way. The last one had him climbing onto the roof of the grocery store and jumping off to see if Cuinn could catch him. It was hilarious.

--

He huffed and then looked back at Cuinn, sitting up again, noticing that all three bracelets were on today. “Fineee… We could do a board game. Or a card game. Or a game in general really… The store’s got so many games… Way too many.”

--

If this was anyone else, Adbrei knew he wouldn’t be able to talk so freely. But he’d known Cuinn for years, six in fact. Six years since they’d met in a hospital, after his first attempt. It’d been early during their Sophomore year, and his ‘accident’(as his mother had always called it) was the reason they’d moved to the city. For the hospital. They’d technically had met before he’d moved to the city, but by the time he was discharged from the hospital his mother had bought an apartment, gotten a new job, and was in the process of selling their old house.

--

He pushed himself off the ground and stood up, regardless of the six years his haphephobia was still a thing. “Let’s go find a game, which one do you think this off-brand Walmart will actually have that’s good? I’ve seen a lot of off-brand copies so far- Like, Franchist, which is an off-brand Monopoly of all things… Maybe they have a zombie game, or an off-brand one at least. Still can’t believe that we called it, even after four years. I mean, come on- Who actually thought zombies would be a thing other than us years before this happened?”

Gwyar ‘Aries’ Ariethous Fraoch | 22 | Male | Demi(HML) | Slave | Mentions; Halley(Ind/Dir), Nic(Ind.), Open

Someone cleared their throat dramatically nearby, and he glanced over to see a Totem Hunter, his voice didn’t waver from his storytelling though. After all, he was almost done.

--

“Top of the morning folks. How are you all?”

--

The same Totem Hunter was speaking now, so he gave an apologetic look at his audience as he stopped, the voices being the biggest protesters.

--

“So, technically I'm not supposed to do this, but what's the worst they can do to me? Kill me? As if. I'm the only one who has the balls to even approach you folks who are controlled by my other fellows. You know, the ones who like watching you all kill each other? Yeah, them.”

--

The Totem Hunters definitely seemed weird enough to think like that. He wasn’t going to bet on her being kind, even if she sounded as if she was. Could always be a trap, after all. Especially with the Totem Hunters. Besides, he didn’t know when he would be taken to the arena for his next fight, for all he knew- She could be here to take him there.

--

“Ignore me, I'm just here to scout out potential Totem Hunters because, why the hell not? I'm probably going to have to supervise any of you potentials. It's my turn this season. So, win your fights, gain immunity, be a loyal fighter, don't die, and if you do, try not to fall down to the fiery depths of hell, yeah?”

--

He would’ve been fine with ignoring her from the beginning, but she had called attention to herself. So, if you asked him, she was being pretty contradictory. He did wonder if the Totem Hunter knew his history of declining the offers to join the ranks of them or how the Hunters didn’t even chant his name when he won but instead the name of the Greek God of War.

--

“You, who round us up like sheep for the slaughter, want us not to die? Forgive me, but I'd rather not ignore a Totem Hunter that's in the same room as myself.”

--

That was the girl that had just won the last fight, first one of today, his would be the second one. But he hadn’t been taken to the arena yet, so he turned back to what was left of his audience and began to start up where he’d left off with his story just moments ago before the Hunter had started talking.

D E X T E R

Dexx Creed / 20 / Male / Totem Hunter / Mentions: Halley & Nic Direct, Arena Slaves Indirect

There was this persistent, nagging, corrosive stereotype going about the wastelands about the Totem Hunters. How they were all blood-thirsty, brainless brutes whose only purpose was to make life a living hell for just about any and everyone. How this gang of miscreants captured the innocent and weak and pitched them against abnormally massive adversaries and made them fight to the death, all the while screaming and howling for more blood, more gore.

Dexx would love to refute this stereotype, argue that it was far from the actual truth, Scout’s Honor. He could do that, give the whole spiel about human rights and what not and how that would be blasphemous, to force another human to kill another during a time like this, with mindless hunks of walking flesh at the door. Of course, he’d be lying if he said any of that, and he’d likely lie through his teeth with a grin while slapping a pair of rusted shackles on you before throwing you- or more accurately having someone throw you- into the arena.

Dexter was as bad as the rest of them- if not crueler. He certainly didn’t look it by any means, he had a rather meek and mild look to him. Looks can and often are, deceiving. More often than not, it was the blond’s voice that was the loudest in the stands of the arena, his chants and laughs that would ring out the furthest. He practically lived and breathed this shit. A life without watching someone rip the skull from a recently deceased body was no life worth living, a motto the young man liked to go by.

This particular day was no different. Being that Dexx was, somehow, a Totem Hunter of notably high ranking, he had a superb view from the stands. In fact, he was currently perched on a stool, haphazardly balanced on the back two legs while his hands were braced out in front of him against a metal table that had been wedged against fence railing. Dexter’s position was a few levels above the actual arena, stadium view if you would, prime box seats for a baseball match. If the sport they were watching was baseball, and not some depraved soul bashing another’s skull in with a wrought iron pipe. Regardless, the point was Dexter had good seats, a luxury he thoroughly enjoyed.

The air was stifling hot in the enclosed arena zone, but that did not have an impact on the capacity which was practically bursting at the seams. Dexx himself had a few fellow high-ranking members seated around the table, watching the events below them as if it was a fine pastime. It was evident the blond kid was the most enthusiastic and enthralled about the whole ordeal though.

The current match had just finished, the announcer howling off in a rattle that the scrawny girl, apparently named Nic- not like Dexx payed attention to the name of slaves- had effectively wiped out the competition, a man far more burly and built with an expertly thrown dagger to the forehead. Ouch. The explosion of blood had numerous onlookers, Dexx certainly included, erupting in howls of excitement and barks of laughter. Dexx himself had thrown his gloved hands down harshly on the metal tabletop, which created a resounding clang. “I fucking told you she’d kill the shit out of him!” His words were harsh, spoken in an extremely condescending drawl before the young man had gone back to leaning back hazardously on his stool. His compatriots besides him gave groans of annoyance- not at the absurd situation but rather at being proven wrong.

As if matching the deranged cackle that floated from Dexx’s mouth, the hulking condor that was perched a little ways away from the young man on an empty chair gave a raucous caw, it’s wings briefly extending as it’s spindly neck bounded up and down. As with any match, there was a brief intermission to remove the cadaver and prepare for the next bought of bloodshed- an intermission which Dexter absolutely dreaded and thought to be a waste of time. So his eyes drifted, and he saw the visage of Halley cut through the crowds. Much like himself, Halley was a Totem Hunter with an outstanding rank, but even with that Dexx found he didn’t like the girl much. His lips curled in disgust, even, as he saw her approach the entry that would give Totem Hunters access to the Arena slave quarters. Dexx had always thought that the woman spent too much time socializing with the slaves- something he’d never do. They were here for entertainment- not to converse with. Plus all the incessant chatter that was no doubt going on would just hold up the progression of fights, something that unsurprisingly pissed the blond off.

Dexter had banged his palms sharply against the table once more, and as the excitement had died down his already extremely loud voice was just more so radiated.

“Lets get this fucking show on the road! I want to see blood!” The cries and screams of encouragement that had bubbled up following his shout made it evident that the majority of everyone else felt the same way, and Dexter could see the arena guards scramble to find the next opponents.

Louis Lee Jackson | Male | 22 | Bi | Loner | M: Totem Hunters (Dir)

Every trap was set up, the floors above him and the two floors below him were clear of zombies, he had set up even more to see traps by his room, and yet he was still anxious. Pacing in room B23, he glanced out the window. The window was stained and cracked at the bottom right corner and the view wasn’t too pretty either. Being only on the second floor, just out of reach of zombies and low enough that he could survive the fall as he had calculated previously, the view was mostly composed of the lower part of broken as well as toppled over buildings in terrible conditions and street lamps bent and contorted like a tree branch. Limp and unmoving zombies lay in the street and burned, rusted cars crashed into sides of buildings and parked in the middle of the cracked concrete road. There was still no water outside of the Totem Hunters so little to no plants grew here anymore. If Louis wanted food or water, he had to sneak into the Totem Hunter’s base and steal it himself. Maybe tomorrow he’d work on a plan to snatch plants and water to grow his own food and maybe start his own water source. The Totem Hunters, as Louis had last recorded them, were probably three miles from here which wasn’t incredibly comforting, but there seemed to be no activity at the moment. There was no movement and everything was peaceful and still.

Maybe that’s what worried Louis.

The calmness of this whole scenario was terrifying to Louis. While fifty percent of the time in the apocalypse was Louis fighting, preparing traps, scavenging, and more, the other fifty percent of the time is Louis anxiously pacing, anticipating these adrenaline filled moments. Any moment that was ‘calm’ was horrible unless he forced himself to relax by reading a book. Even then, he always jumped and had to investigate the surroundings at any little sound. He continued to pace around the empty room and around the rotting, dirt covered bed, mumbling under his breath.

“What if they see me?” Louis mumbled silently. “Fuck, I am so royally screwed if they do… And if they find me leavin’ with supplies an’ all, they’ll skin me alive… A-fucking-live, dammit!” Louis laughed quietly to himself as he shrugged slightly. “Heh, maybe I won’t die immediately or suffer immensely if I get caught…?” Louis paused for a moment before laughing louder. “Yeah, Louis, real fuckin’ smart. If I am lucky, I will die immediately.” Louis was strongly against the slavery usage of the Totem Hunters. Extremely. People are taken off the streets and forced to either join the Totem Fuckers or be their little toys. It’s cruel, awful, and most likely targeting people of color like Louis. Which is fucking fantastic. “Okay, you know what? Screw it. If I get captured-” Louis stopped pacing for a long moment- “that’d be totally tubular. Maybe, just maybe… It’d be a win-win.” Louis paused before laughing to himself and rushing to the window. “Maybe, I can try to get water later tonight and I either get caught or don’t. If I don’t, I come back again later and keep robbing them blind. If I do,” Louis smiled as he glared in the direction of the Totem Hunter’s base, “I can free everyone there and really fuck with those Totem Fuckers.”

Hell, yeah. Those assholes are going down.

Cuinn Guiomar Murphy | Genderfluid | 21 | Pan | Grocery Store Pals | M: Adbrei

Cuinn still wondered- debated- over Adbrei’s, not violent but… self harming, yes, self harming tendencies. Cuinn could visibly see Adbrei deflate after Cuinn had to specify that no harm would come to the small, angry gremlin. While she wanted to scold him just for that, she didn’t want to scold him to the point where he didn’t listen. Actually, she was sure that Adbrei didn’t listen to her already, but she still tried to believe that a part of her speeches got to his gorgon brain. Even if the words never made it past Adbrei’s ears, Cuinn would keep doing until the words did.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Cuinn scoffed, rolling his eyes at the shorter man’s disgruntled expression towards safety. Cuinn pushed off the wall and cocked his hip slightly, waving one hand around in the air to emphasize his point and placing the other on his hip bone. “I am just makin’ sure you don’t ask to topple the isles on you or try to juggle all the sharp objects possible. Or jump off a building, again. Or try to burn yourself and half the store down, again. Or, I don’t know, an array of dangerous things that make no sense to do in the first place. For fun.” Cuinn practically growled at the last part. Using his free hand, he rubbed the bridge of his nose before mumbling under his breath. “Honestly? I don’t even know how I have kept you alive for this long.”

The games were most likely all off brand. Everything in that good forsaken town was. Even the people there, before the whole zombie apocalypse, seemed… fake? Not real. Like, they were just knock-offs of real people. As for the few good people in the town, well, let’s just say that they were most likely six feet under now. That or walking around looking for somebody to bite. And not in a sexual way. That’d just be gross. God, he couldn’t imagine some of his life-long friends in any of those positions. Even the sexual ones. He should probably stop thinking about those situations. Anyways, back to his rant about fake games. Jesus, Cuinn always went on long rants where he got off track. Somehow, he could always take any topic and make it depressing. Cuinn was sure that at this point he could take a conversation about puppies and make it depressing. Speaking about puppies, Cuinn was now thinking about his dead dog limping around with termites and centipedes crawling in and out of Drooper’s brains and out his missing eye. She had to stop herself from thinking about the rotting gray fur that covered Drooper. Cuinn wanted to shoot herself at this point. She had just ruined puppies for herself by picturing her beloved dog dead and infected with a terrible zombie infection. Great. Just great.

Great going, Cuinn.

“Well, is there anythin’ that looks fun maybe?” Cuinn stalked over to where Adbrei was after brushing any dust off their skirt. “I don’t know. I used to be great at Uno, yuh know? I was goddamn boss, I’m tellin’ ya.” Cuinn smiled proudly to herself for a moment, but the smile faded as fast as it came. Making sure she wasn’t close enough to Adbrei to unknowingly touch him, he started looking at the store full of card and board games. “But really, any ol’ card game’ll do. Just not Go Fish. God,” Cuinn laughed quietly to himself, “I swear I’ve probably gotten trauma from that damn game.” Cuinn laughed quietly again, this time as they picked up a small card pack and studied it. “Yeaaah, remind me never to play Go Fish while drunk. With or without flirty fucks involved.”

Cuinn paused briefly on the topic of the whole ‘predicting the apocalypse’ thing. Yeah, that was sure a fun topic. Two teenage, LGBTQA+ kids in high school predicting the apocalypse and probably being the only members in the class of whatever fucking year it would have been, Cuinn didn’t feel like doing the math on what year it would have been, to have survived. It was a bit of a sad topic to Cuinn for some reason. It’s not like they were close to many of them. There were definitely a few people they felt guilty for not being able to save. Jessie, Lawrence, Mark, Harper… Even a stupid, high school crush, Kevin McGallengur. That cheap fucker. Even his last name was shitty. Cuinn still didn’t know why the hell they felt bad for him of all people. Really, they felt shitty as fuck either way for not being able to save any of their other friends or their crush.

There was a fuck-ton of people Cuinn still felt guilty for not saving.