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Darkseeker
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Please do not post unless you are Serenity or Urux Plot It is the early days after a world ending disease putrified the nation, killing millions in less than a month. A raging virus infected the population, causing them to reanimate after their deaths. Survivors are fighting for their lives against the dead and the living, a scramble for supplies and a safe haven turning good people mad. Initially reanimated are quicker and more alert - at the moment the great majority are of this variety. The longer they are deceased, the less speed they possess but their hearing greatly increases to compensate. A few odd reanimated corpses have been spotted, these abnormal reanimations are far more dangerous than the standard type. |
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Darkseeker
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Name Cillian "Crow" Harvillard Age 24 Gender Male Occupation Before University student | Part-time at an arcade Appearance Cillian stands at 6'1" with a decently average level of broadness to his shoulders, he used to head to the gym a few times a week for his health before the downfall of the world. Now he keeps his lean build through survival, running and lack of adequate nutrition. His face is slightly angular, the sharpness brought out by the lack of food he is able to find now. His eyes are a deep blue set in shadowed, tired eyes that used to be bright. Cillian's black hair is a tousled mess of waves and tangles, reaching just down his neck, slightly hacked at as he uses a knife to trim it regularly. Attached to his left ear is one cuff earring on the lobe with a cross hanging from it. His face normally has a variety of small bandages and patches covering up scrapes, but he is running out of medical supplies so sometimes he just leaves the wounds open. His current clothing is a dirtied off-white hoodie covered in some blood and copious amounts of dirt. Beneath is a black singlet, some faded band logo on the front of it. Paired with dark wash cargo jeans and thick leather boots, topping it off on his head is a baseball cap he snagged from a corpse. He carries his belongings in a travelling backpack, it fits onto his back tightly, enabling him to carry a lot of weight evenly. Current Gear - Baseball bat - Few meters of rope. - A random assortment of medical supplies. - Switchblade. - Unloaded pistol with no ammo. - Canned food. - Dry goods. Other He has family on the other side of the city he is trying to make his way towards them. Cillian doesn't know what else to do, after losing his university companions in the first few weeks of the apocalypse, he can only seek out his family. These university friends were the ones to give him the nickname Crow, on account of his problem-solving and need to collect useless things. _________________________________________ Name Natalie Shawcross Age 28 Gender Female Occupation Before Military Medic Appearance Natalie stands at 5'4" with a filled out form, keeping her muscle and fat from her training, she certainly holds the appearance of militia in her figure. Though, some of her reserves are beginning to slowly reduce, revealing the sinewous muscle beneath, as she struggles to find adequate nutrition. Her hair is a rich chocolate, which used to be thick and shiny, but now reduced to flattened and pulled back out of her face in preference for survival and lack of shampoo and water. It used to fall down to her tailbone, but since the chaos had errupted, Natalie took to slicing it off half way. Now sitting just below her shoulder blades when not tied up into the uniform bun she keeps it in. Natalie's skin is a rich olive, bringing her overall colour scheme to rich browns and tans. Though the warmth has been sapped from her skin from the struggle for survival, appearing dulled and almost grey during particularly rough patches of life. Her eyes are similar to this theme, a glossy pair of deep brown eyes, almost black. Her skin remains mostly unblemished, having acquired no serious injuries to date, a few freckles dance across the bridge of her nose and shoulders but that is all. On the back of her neck is a tattoo, small and simple. The ID number of her enlistment, matching that on the silver dog tag that she wears around her neck. Current Gear - Medical backpack - Military issued firearms (pistol, rifle) - Rations - Water canister - Swiss army knife Other Recently graduated from the medic course, Natalie had begun her military journey later in life after finding her university education was only bringing low income jobs her way. During the beginning of the end, Natalie was about to take off home for a short break before deployment when the helicopter began to take off with only the two pilots, in the confusion she couldn't hear what others were saying. But when the screaming dying body of one of the pilots willingly flung themselves from the aircraft, quickly followed by the reanimated corpse of his companion, Natalie ran. |
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Neutral
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Name Elizabeth "Liz" Vitally Age 21 Gender Female Occupation Before Full-Time College Student. She worked odd jobs to pay for her schooling such as babysitting, tutoring, and waitressing. Appearance Elizabeth stands at just under 5'5" with a slender build and lightly tanned skin. Before the apocalypse, she focused on keeping her body in top shape through working out in her free time which had mostly been through running. Now her slender build is a result of just trying to stay alive. Her facial features were usually described to her as softer and elegant. But from a lack of proper nutrition and rationing out food when she can, she has developed sharper cheekbones. Her gray eyes that used to shine brightly like her charming smile are dull and lifeless, showing her exhaustion. Her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair is normally pulled back into a ponytail or bun to avoid anyone grabbing a hold of it along with hiding her poor attempts at trimming it before giving up on it alltogether. She does walk with a slight limp on her left side, a result of an injury she sustained weeks ago while avoiding the undead that she had been trying to allow to heal on its own. She does have her ears pierced, having three lobe piercings and opting to wear silver studs instead of the various sized hoops she used to love. Studs were a safer option to avoid having them grabbed. She does have some faint scarring on her face as well as her body from previous injuries she sustained whether it be through fighting the undead, while searching for supplies, or running into other survivors who weren't welcoming. She does have some bandages on her arms mostly for the deep wounds, leaving any minor cuts and scapes open as to preserve what she has for medical supplies. For attire, Elizabeth currently is wearing a once white t-shirt now stained with more blood and dirt than she would like to think about. This is normally paired with a worn out camo jacket she managed to find while looting. Right now, she has camo cargo pants that are slightly too large for her that she keeps on with a worn out black belt that she found while looting, along with black leather boots that she knows she will need to replace soon if she comes along another pair while looting. She recently upgraded from using her bookbag for her supplies to a rucksack she had managed to snag when she found what she assumed used to be a hideout for survivors, the same one she had found the clothing she wears now. Current Gear - First Aid Kit - Kitchen Knife - Water Canister/Reuseable Water Bottle - Metal Crowbar - Hatchet - Canned Foods - Ripped Up Fabric (emergency bandages) Other Elizabeth has been alone for some time. She mainly was in the area for school as her family lives elsewhere. She had been travelling with her former coworkers from the resturant she waitressed at before becoming separated from them. She just recalls seeing the undead running at them and someone telling her to run. She could hear people screaming, but she didn't dare look back. Back home, she would live with her mother and brother. She is unsure if they had been spared of this all happening or if this outbreak had reached her home as well. She is mostly focused on surviving, though she is hopeful she will manage to find other survivors who aren't as hostile as the ones she's run into recently. _________________________________________ Name Hunter Lynch Age 28 Gender Male Occupation Before Unemployed at the time of the apocalypse. Previous work history included Automotive and Construction Appearance Hunter stands at just around 6'0" tall. He was always built lean with broad shoulders and was mostly pure muscle. His looks are deceiving even now as many don't realize how much muscle he really has. Though now from lack of proper nutrition, he does seem smaller than normal. His facial features are sharper now than originally as a result of the apocalypse and his new lifestyle. His jet black hair is left shaggy and long though he does try to cut it to avoid it covering his dark blue eyes, as well as trying to keep the beard he has started growing somewhat trimmed using one of his many knives. With the apocalypse, he found shaving took too much time and he gave up on finding a razor blade to do it. His skin is tanned from his time outside while trying to survive and find safe spots to live. One noticeable feature to Hunter is the large tattoos that go down his arms, various designs and tribal patterns he had gotten at a young age. His skin also shows the many scars he got even before the apocalypse from the many fights he got into growing up, as well as the fresher wounds that he had tried to treat himself when he could find medical supplies. With supplies being scarce as of late, he preferred to just leave them open and let them heal on his own. Why did he care if they left another scar? He saw them as reminders of how he survived as long as he has. For clothing, Hunter is normally out in a hoodie whether it be his black one he's kept with him since the beginning or the camo one he had looted off one of his fallen companions. Underneath he wears a solid black t-shirt that has some rips in it from the wear and tear of daily use. His black jeans are beginning to show some wear as well as the black combat boots he also managed to loot off his companions after their passings. He carries a smaller backpack that is just the right size for what he needs to carry supplies with ease and that he realizes can double as a weapon if he swings it hard enough at an attacker. Current Gear - Pistol and ammo (stolen) - Machete - Cigarettes - Lighter - Canned food - Assorted Hunting Knives (stolen) - Water Canister/Reuseable Water Bottle Other Hunter is the oldest of three siblings, though he hasn't seen his younger brother or sister for several years now even before the apocalypse happened. Even now, he isn't even sure if they're still alive. He doesn't usually admit to it, but he has a bit of a criminal history and had actually been recently released after serving some time for several theft charges when the apocalypse struck. He originally had been travelling with others, but he had been on his own after losing his travelling companions over time to it being attacks from the undead or those who just decided they could no longer go on, or those who decided to try and turn on one another. Since then, he has been on his own mostly getting by through stealing and looting. |
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Darkseeker
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Natalie | Location: Highschool A figure cast in shadows slowly made its way along the hallway, littered around the linoleum floor posters, papers, books, an endless amount fluttering gently in the breeze coming from the cracked windows. The hallway led between two buildings, the walls made of glass were precarious, just willing someone to come over and smash them in. Outside the glass cocoon, idling aimlessly on the tarmac were the dead, majority of them fresh. Only a few from the beginning lurked around, their flesh demarcating them as the original hoard that caused the collapse of the world. Upon the spiked 6 foot fence that was surrounding the various buildings were speared bodies, some their torso sloughed from their lower half and had fallen to the floor. Ravens perched on the remains and gorged themselves. It must be a good time to be an animal, endless food. Meanwhile, the surviving humans were starving, cold and scared. That was why the shadowy figure was here. It was early, she hoped that the canteen would still have canned goods that she could stow away in her pack. Then again, it may have already been whisked away. Natalie lifted her gaze, her hands by her side, ready to lift her issued pistol from its holster on her thigh in case the dead began flooding around the next bend. Strapped to her back was her rifle and backpack, she preferred to reserve her heavier gun power for humans. Adorning her body was standard military camouflage pants, strapped on tight with a weaved belt, her upper half wrapped with a black thermal shirt, skin tight to keep her warm. Tied around her waist was her zippered hoodie, swaying slightly with each step she took. Her eyes were hollowed, almost black bags under her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. Finally, she reached the end of the hallway, it was beginning to unnerve her being out in the open with only flimsy glass panels to protect her. Pushing open the door, she cautiously edged her way into the large dining hall, eyes roving around, seeking out even the smallest movement. Nothing. The small woman edged her way further into the room, her footsteps in the thick leather boots echoing softly around the hall. This was another dangerous place to be. Quickly, Natalie dove behind the canteen service line, her eyes snapping about, trying to take in as much of the kitchen as she could. There was so much stuff, benches, fridges, ovens, far too much for her liking, anything could be hiding behind them. After satisfying herself with the fact that there was in fact not a monster lying in wait for her, Natalie began to walk towards two big doors with small glass cut outs. Inside she could see cans of food, vegetables, fruits, and meats. Jackpot. Her lips split into a wide grin. It was far too much for her to carry on her own, but she would take the meat over anything else. It might taste like dog food, but meat is what kept you going, not sugary fruits. As she began to open the doors, her shoulder tensed. A loud clatter came from the dining hall, her head swirled around to look out over a workbench to peer into the hall. Some rambling male voice, panicked and staggering his feet, as he battled off a group of the dead. Natalie did not move, simply closing the door gently, careful to make sure the heavy wood didn’t slam closed. She kept low and peeked over the bench, her hands reaching to move her rifle to her front. Lifting the barrel to aim out at the dining hall, ready to fire if this man spotted her and decided she was a good victim. |
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Darkseeker
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Cillian | Location: Highschool The tall man scampered down the hallway, his feet skidding as he rounded a corner, almost tripping on the ripped carpet. His lips pulled into a grimace, one hand gripped a baseball bat, the other pumping by his side as he ran. The wet growls of the dead felt like they were beside his ear. He could hear his heart pounding, it was almost loud enough to where he couldn't hear the real world around him. His boot clad feet pounded at the ground, his clothes pulled up in odd ways from his attempts to skid around corners and ending up stumbling. Cillian had pushed open the door to the gymnasium, a little too loudly, it hit the door stopper and the sound reverberated around the room. Echoing off of the high ceilings and shiny floor, basically ringing the dinner bell. His eyes widened as he watched a group of shorter people slowly turn to look towards the noise. Five of them. The greyish skin flaked from their bones, hair barely holding onto their roots in the rotting bulb of their heads. Various wounds adorned their maggot ridden bodies, one was missing an arm, another's stomach had been eviscerated, trailing intestines and viscera. Their jaws slack, saliva dripping onto the cold floor, one took a step towards him. Slowly at first, then as though they could see him, the five highschoolers began charging towards him, their heavy feet beating on the hard ground. Snarling, hands outstretched, guts dripping onto the floor. He had turned tail and ran, now he was stumbling down a hallway, not sure where he was heading, just that he needed to get away. Cillian could feel one hand snag the back of his hoodie, yelping as the man tried to find more power to push himself away. He could see a door in front of him. God please let it be a swinging door and let it be unlocked. He crashed into the door and half fell into the dining hall, colliding with a chair in the process. Well, if he hadn’t attracted any more before, he certainly had now. Scrambling to his feet, he lifted the bat, turning to face the group as they fought with each other to get through the door. Heart pounding and chest heaving, Cillian raised the bat over his shoulder and swung at the first one. A sickening crack rang out, the sound of bone crushing, followed by a dull thud as the first fell to the floor. Cold blood whipped across Cillian’s face and the bridge of his nose as the corpse sprayed its decomposing blood in a wide arc. Staining the cap fixed tightly to his head, the visor facing backwards. Cillian barely had time to prepare himself for the next one before he had to swing again, this time it wasn’t hard enough. Only sending the decaying girl staggering sideways, her eye popping from a socket on the side he struck. The sight made his stomach turn, he felt like heaving up his stomach. He struck again, finishing her off. Another one, a boy, was next to fall at Cillian’s feet. His arms were trembling now, lifting the bat over his head to strike down on the fourth’s head, a grunt ripping from his own throat at the effort. Eyes shot back up, feverishly moving around trying to find the last one. Where did it go? His throat went dry, if he couldn’t see it, it could kill him. Cillian stepped over the body in front of him, towards the door that was still open. A figure was standing there, taking Cillian by surprise he let out a strangled sound as he raised his bat again. Hair dislodged from its spot beneath his cap, hanging in front of his eyes, the chopped mullet poking out in random directions from beneath the hat. Terror in his eyes, blackened blood flicked across his face, he began to bring the weapon down. That was when he saw their eyes, they were clear. Unclouded by the white glaze that the dead possessed, Cillian almost struck the person in their head. Missing by a hair, he tried to reduce his speed and power, instead clipping the doorframe with the tip of the bat. There was a person in front of him. A living person. Cillian’s body slouched forward slightly, fighting for air as he stared at the person. Half waiting to be shot, the other hoping they wouldn’t. |
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Winter 
Night 
Blizzard Moon: 
