Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »

Players Wanted: Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! » Long term partner to play an older male wanted »

0
followers
follow

Danny Gregory

"Do good. I do not mean do well; I mean do good."

0 · 399 views · located in United States

a character in “The Solanum Virus 2”, as played by dig17

Description

Image
FULL NAME
Daniel Ian Gregory

GENDER
Male

AGE
48

PERSONALITY
High-risk, low-maintenance, and afraid to fail. Educated, but stubborn. Believes in order and control, no less than what is absolutely necessary. Will not settle for a no-win situation. Tries to keep the understanding that things have changed, maybe permanently, but will do what he needs to do to keep people alive. Finds solutions with thought and reason, trying to keep all variables in the equation at all times. Always has work to do. Intelligent and not afraid to show it, generally very fun and outgoing. Considers himself level-headed, but considers himself more human than anything.

EQUIPMENT
He was able to procure a previously-owned red Nissan XTerra 4x4. He packed it up with lots of rope, 23 gallons of gasoline, Maruchan ramen noodles (beef flavor), 6 cases of bottled water, a basic first-aid kit, non-fiction books about military history, a reproduction Civil War groundcloth and wool blanket, the toolbox from his garage, two spare tires, a blowtorch, a Remington 870 with ghost ring sights and an extended magazine tube, a duffel bag filled with an uncounted amount of Winchester 230-grain .45 ACP ammunition, and a Bowie knife on his gun belt. His gunbelt is a reproduction Civil War-issue waistbelt with a Galco handgun holster nailed into it. The holster contains a customized Glock 21 race gun, with an extended barrel attached to a static compensator, a beveled magazine well, a fulcrum trigger, a shorter recoil spring, raised target sights, and a ground-down grip for better handling. He has 17 additional magazine pouches riding on the space next to the holsters.

APPEARANCE
Short and stocky, like a farmer. He stands at 5'8'' with 144 lbs beneath his skin, and noticeably at 40 years of age. He wears brown hair and green eyes with a slew of scars from doing tough work in his childhood. Standard garb these days is a black t-shirt, blue jeans in semi-good condition, brown Wolverine Bulldozer boots at his feet covering two pairs of wool socks, and grey hoodie under a reproduction Civil War infantry jacket whenever he travels in the cold. He never goes anywhere without his black cowboy hat, which has protected him from the sun at numerous Civil War battles.

HISTORY
Danny grew up an intellectual who loved doing stuff. His primary goal in life was to learn and to impart knowledge to others, leading to his career as a high school history teacher. On the side, however, he could be found riding mountain bikes, playing Hockey, and reading every book in sight. Danny is a smart man; he is one of the most distinguished teachers in his school, covering most social sciences and physical education when needed. He eventually fell in line with a military reenacting group that portrayed impressions between the Civil War and World War One, and co-owns a gun shop that is typically operated by his best friend, Riley James. He is a caring, outgoing individual with a deep commitment to his kids, Riley and Jen, and after the death of his wife, it only solidified. Danny refrains from anything that could have him looked down on. He doesn't drink, smoke, curse, or generally say 'I hate' ever. He is sometimes considered too content of a person to actually exist, but he knows he is just doing things the way he wants them to be for his kids. He is also the town gun nut, due to his Class 3 firearms license (I.E. fully automatic weapons and tactical explosive devices) and owns several guns; he sometimes sells (legally, of course) his weapons to the townsfolk when they are in need of a reliable saddle-gun or coyote-killer or general plinker gun.

Then there was the quarantine. Another totally unneccessary waste of fear, Danny surmised. Nothing's gonna be worse than the Spanish Flu pandemic of the early 1900s. Then he saw the President give a speech during primetime about it. Worse, the speech was short, and obviously not in the Oval Office; it was very obvious some Hollywood guys had painted a White House mockup to try to help the American people think everything was okay. Of course, it was easy for the President to say such things, because he had a whole staff of highly trained ex-Special Forces-types willing to die for him. What a joke.

Danny scoffed when he saw the broadcasts; he felt a fool when they went off for good. His first order of business was to secure his business, the smallest gun shop downtown that he'd co-owned and operated for 16 years. Things were surprisingly not as nutty there as he'd thunk, usually any would-be raider could be easily bribed with a few boxes of ammunition or a Mosin-Nagant. Soon, people stopped showing up, and he had to shoot down the first groups of infected that would gravitate toward his work outside. The next two months were spent inside his building, living in some form of harmony with the employees of the diner next door who had smashed through the wall that divided the businesses and offered a bucket of chicken in exchange for a couple of guns. When the infected finally besieged and assaulted their store, Danny's only friend in the world, Riley James, stood behind to fend them off and, eventually, take his own life. Now he's looking for his kids like they were Hansel and Gretel, trying to pick up any bread crumbs he might find.

So begins...

Danny Gregory's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Danny Gregory
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by dig17
He'd lost it. He hadn't seen anyone alive in more than two weeks; the war was definitely over, and now the bodies were piling up. Everywhere he went, he caught the aftermath of what had happened. He had been one of the luckiest Americans to ever live, having managed to trail behind the wake of an event that transcended anything the race had been through before. He was always just one step ahead of the massive fires, the massacres, and the men who decided to take what they wanted at gunpoint. Instead, all he found across every state were ashes, mass graves, and dead women. He hadn't even seen a walker in about a week.

When it started, they were fast. Fast enough to give Kenyans a run for their money at the Olympics. Men, ladies, kids, neighbors, students, mechanics, soldiers, everybody was running. And they were covered in blood. There was a lot of blood at the beginning. It seemed to be smeared or puddled everywhere, like it had fallen out of the sky. Now it had begun to grow black and discolored, and the runners became shamblers as they decomposed, not to mention the weather taking its own toll. Rain, snow, sunshine, all of it affecting bodies that just weren't growing anymore.

It was okay, though; although he had lost his mind, he felt more secure than he had during the entire event. He stood on main street of some town in some state (he wasn't even paying attention to his geography anymore) with a .410 shotgun that he'd found in a diner; there weren't that many shells left for it, but it was enough to provide some entertainment. He was firing it at the front window of a Banana Republic, a representation of mass market culture that he'd been subjected to through his many years of teaching high school. Banana Republic and other stores like it had made his students stupid and ignorant of his curriculum. The ideas they advertised, either directly or subliminally, as well as what was on TV and in their magazines and other venues of media, made them self-entitled and overconfident.

Whether or not this was true, the mannequins were dressed in clothes he'd seen often on students he especially disliked due to their cocky attitudes and general disregard for his authority. He held that shotgun up and squeezed the trigger hard as he could, and the glass came dancing down following the report of the gun, and eventually settled on the pavement below. The noise comforted him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his brain busy; the silence had been the worst part of the whole ordeal. He quickly popped the breach open, dropped the smoking shell, and put another one in. He closed it up as quickly as he could, cocked the hammer back, raised and fired. The next load wrecked the last of the glass and embedded itself in the cardboard behind the mannequins, some hitting in random patterns on the bodies, a hole in the neck here, two in the breast there, yadda yadda.

As he looked down at the breach, he imagined screaming, like had happened in his one encounter with a group he would consider to be bandits. He fired first from his Glock, and immediately, the women in their group screamed, and continued to scream until he had driven out of earshot. He wished the mannequins were screaming at him. He wanted to imagine it, but it just wasn't the same. Needing some semblance of auditory accompaniment, of all the things in the world, he began singing.

"This darkness would eclipse our will! A cold wind blows across these hills! A swinging GAZE," He fired it again, the spread blanketing across the mannequin and kicking up dust where the small pellets landed, forcing one of the plastic bodies to gently rock around. His group was getting tighter. "From the hangman's tree! A crow's nest view of what's left to see!" He could hear the echo begin to bounce around the buildings as he stuck another shell inside and closed it up tight. "The lights that's formed of saints return the silence to the snow," He muttered this part to himself as he struggled to bring the hammer back again, being so small and narrow that it sometimes hurt his already sore thumb. "Still beneath the craters waiting for this time to grow. So HOLD OOOOOOOON!" He raised it up with one hand and fired at the mannequin in the middle, the pattern landing more squarely on it, kicking more dust around as the left arm fell off.

"Hold tight! Opeeeeeeeeeeen dayliiiiiiiiiiiiight! We will! Overcome!" He danced a little by himself, hearing the song play out in his head as he went to reload the gun. "Blah blah pfffffbt, some other stuff," Suddenly, the words escaped him as he searched for another of the yellow shells. "....and we must run if we're to meet the light- that's it." It all came to him at once, the soft piano behind Dustin Kensrue's voice as the next shell accidentally slipped through his fingers. "Watered by the blood of martyrs! Blessed and blind as sons and daughters! Sleep with one eye open and live with both eyes shut!" He closed up the breach and cocked the hammer well, and raised the gun with one hand and a held the bead sight right on the chest of the mannequin on the left. "So let's find the place where sight begins and- FUCK!"

There it was, a rotting man shambling out from behind the cardboard. Not from behind, per se, but from over, seeing as it knocked the entire cardboard divider over and crashed over the pellet-riddled mannequins. It had happened as he squeezed the trigger, resulting in a panicked report from him that resulted in a stumble to the ground. It growled and hissed and gritted the teeth that were left as it tried to pick itself back up and come at him, but all Danny could think about was getting his last shell in the chamber of the gun. He swung it open, got the empty one out of there, and looked back up to see how close the dude actually was. It wasn't even able to get up, and he stopped for a moment, observing it struggle as he lay there, propped up on his elbows. It continued to snap at him. He snapped back.

Standing up, he put that last shell in and flipped it shut before pointing it at the undead man. When he went for the trigger with a grimace, nothing happened, making a deeper grimace than he'd already earned. He was now pissed that he'd completely forgotten to ready the hammer; he slowly walked forward, getting it back finally with the palm of his left hand, and stuck the muzzle against the man's ear. Before it could grab Danny, he pulled the trigger and let the shot do its work on the soupy braincase. There was no more movement, and Danny threw the gun down angrily before kicking and yelling at the body. "Fuck you! Fuck you, man! Goddammit!"

He followed up with running to the window and kicking around the mannequins, tearing at the clothes and shoving them around with his feet in an awkward fashion. He ripped his wool coat off and threw it down, too, before stomping on the larger pieces of glass that hadn't completely shattered. He was angry, and everything inside the store was going to pay for it. He jumped inside throwing anything that wasn't bolted down; he stared with the coat racks, throwing them at other racks and the cashier's counter. "Fuckin bullshit clothes!" He picked up a polo shirt with a short collar and observed the price tag: $19.87. "You killed America!"

There was more yelling and throwing and smashing of solid items before a porcelain toilet smashed through the other display window at the front of the building. "Not one fucking urinal guard! This is why we're all turning gay! For what it takes to build a birdhouse, no guy has to look at another guy's disposal! NOOOOOO! Let's ignore it, it's health department-legal if they're 2 feet away from each other! And it's okay for boys to wear skinny jeans, they look cool when they skateboard!"

It was at this moment that Danny drove his boot into the wall next to him, smashing through the drywall and into the support structure of the building. He had driven himself up to the thigh and was now afraid he had become stuck. All he could hope for was that a group of the undead weren't hot on his trail and planned to take advantage of this delicate situation; he'd kill himself before he'd get eaten alive whilst stuck inside the wall of a Banana Republic he had spent so much time carefully trashing. "Do not fucking die, Danny," He began muttering to himself as he attempted to wiggle himself out of his predicament. "Do not fucking die in this wall, Danny. Do not fucking die."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by dig17
"Do not-" There was a gunshot from behind him. "FUCK!" He ducked down suddenly, still attempting to wiggle away from his drywall shackle, but felt no sting of lead or spatter of blood. He hadn't even heard it zoom past him; he knew what bullets sounded like, and this one had gone down into the store somewhere, landing among the mess he had made. His head darted around as quickly as he could seek it, but in the darkness, all he heard was a scream and clattering on the shitty tile design. Bringing his hand down to his Glock, he quickly found a beam to plant his foot on to assist in kicking out and away from the wall to free himself; he did so, but with enough force to knock him on his back. He lay there and grunted to himself as he regretted the situation immediately, but picked himself back up with the little twinges of dignity that he had left.

He planted his hand back on his gun and drew it from the paddle holster, keeping it professionally out in front of him as he had been trained to do for races, quickly moving one foot over the other as he crossed the desolate wasteland of the now-wasted Banana Republic. His professionalism was short-lived, however, as he began stepping over a collection of rugged jeans and attempted to keep his balance as they slid around underneath his feet, and his arms wound up straying above his shoulders to help maintain this balance. He had gained too much momentum as he quick-stepped across the result of his wrath, and the last thing he needed was to fall the fuck down.

The front door had been opened; somebody had the common sense to come in through the civilized entrance, instead of through the windows he'd busted. For all he knew, it was a group, and they'd fired off a warning shot to get him to come out. This was exactly what he was doing, and as he approached the one glass door that had swung shut in the hasty retreat of the stranger(s), he shoved his foot up to make contact with it. What he didn't know was that the door opened to the inside, and in the process, wound up forcing the door off of its hinges and out into the street.

The glass cracked and bent as the door flew into the blue, ashy light of the town, and Danny immediately saw a Jeep parked several feet up the road that definitely hadn't been there before. There didn't seem to be anybody outside; he flashed his weapon left and right and checked for any sign of people, but there was nothing. If they were gonna take him out with an ambush, he'd be dead within the next few moments.

When nothing happened, he turned his attention back to the store, where something was rustling around inside. The man he'd killed had been tampered with, and there was a blood trail leading to one of the racks that was barely still standing. Indeed, something was moving; he fired three shots into the back of the store to show he meant business, and when nothing scampered away, he knew it couldn't be an animal. He immediately pointed back to whoever it was that was inside, approaching slowly as he did, his right leg still covered in drywall residue.

"Get outta there! Come on out or I'm gonna have a field day on that Jeep out there!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Katchinah held her breath for what seemed like an eternity. Her heart throbbed deep within her chest, watching out from behind the layer of clothing that concealed her. She watched as the figure came out of the back of the store - one man. Just one man. A dusty cap set on his head as he burst through the front door, looking... rather odd... was the only way that Katchinah could describe him. But she watched as he fired three shots towards the rear of the store, flinching each time the trigger was pulled. Finally, the angry man called out ; almost looking at her. It was as if their eyes met. And he knew.

He knew.

The indian girl's heart began to throb faster and faster and faster. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers. Trembling, and out of pure reflex, she instantly brought the gun out in front of her. She took a deep breath, convincing herself that this man was here to kill her, and take her things. She gathered her courage, and fought the lump in her throat... before sharply standing up out of the circle of clothing, swinging her Glock out - barrel towards the threat. Although, she stood up far too sharply - a bad move for someone being held at gunpoint. But base instincts had taken over, and she definitely didn't want to be shot or trapped. The one armed girl held the gun shakily, pointed at Danny. "P-please don't, guy!" She blurted out, moving further away from him... or at least as far as the rack of dresses would allow. "I really don't wanna hurt you. And I really don't wanna get hurt..." She said, looking away for just a split second. She jolted back to attention, shaking her head. "B-but I will, so... d-don't try anything!" She said, waving the gun around, trying to look at little more intimidating than she really was. The tattered doll of an indian slowly took a step towards Danny, and in fact, began to climb out of the rack of clothing... which with one arm, was quite odd to watch.

But as soon as she could, she offered a steady position to the gun she was holding.... "L-let's w-work something out, Amigo...?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer Character Portrait: Lukas Sarasparilla
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

"We could stay here or hide and hope whatever it is that made that noise doesn't find us. Or we can take a look." The priest said with a frown. "If we do take a look, it'd be best if we don't get seen unless we know it's not trouble."

Diana began to speak, " I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to check it out. If there's a gunshot, that means somebody's in trouble either way and I can't in good conscious leave someone to die." She picked up her things and set off in the direction of the noise in a jog. If she gauged the trajectory of the noise right it was due northeast of them and about one to two miles away. Not necessarily far but if she didn't hurry, someone's life could be at an end.

At about three quarters of a mile, she could see what was once a shopping district. She passed a few preppy department stores she found distasteful even before the Infection spread. She caught sight of a vehicle that seemed to be parked properly instead of the usual "side-of-the road" deal. It was at that point she saw the shattered storefront of a Banana Republic. While the other stores had broken glass from looting this one was much to shattered for a normal situation. She approached and saw the mannequins in their pastel clothes riddled with bullet holes and shattered fragments. She looked to her right and saw what was obviously a dead zom in a pool of blood. She looked closer and could make out bloody shoe prints leading into the store. She fitted an arrow into her bow and cautiously followed them in.

It was then that she could make out figures towards the back. The larger figure lifted his gun in the air and fired three shots while the smaller slightly deformed figure held a gun in her only hand pointing at the larger one. It was obvious that they were both human, but she knew just what panicked and deranged humans were capable of. The smaller figure shakily said a few words but Diana could hardly make them out. She trained her arrow toward the larger of the figures and spoke. "H-hey. Let's all calm down o-okay" She stepped a little closer to the two, all the while maintaining the position of her bow on what she could now see as the male figure.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer Character Portrait: Lukas Sarasparilla
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to check it out. If there's a gunshot, that means somebody's in trouble either way and I can't in good conscious leave someone to die," the woman stated firmly.

For his part, James felt a twinge of shame. For the past few weeks (or was it months), he had been thinking of no one but himself and why God would permit this virus to ravage the world, but here was this woman, running off into danger on the off-chance of being some help to someone in danger. He had to admire her courage and compassion, but what would happen if she ran into more trouble than one person could handle. Would he be able to meet his Maker with the knowledge that he just left one or more people to die in this dangerous world? No. He would not. With that thought, he stood up and chased after her with a vigor that hadn't been in his step since the last time he had encountered Infected.

He ignored the preppy clothing stores and other meaningless buildings as he followed the woman. He hadn't thought much of them before the Virus and now they were simply revealed as the skeletal structures that they were. He frowned slightly at a couple of dead bodies, Infected by the looks of them, and gripped both his revolver and his pipe, ready to spring into action should a pack of them spring out from the remains of the Bannana Republic he approached.

"H-hey. Let's all calm down o-okay."

James stopped, watching in bewilderment as the girl stepped between a savage-looking girl and an equally savage-looking older man, but then, he supposed, he probably didn't look much better. He stepped beside the woman, lowering his weapons in a gesture of peace.

"Agreed. We are all one people. One Body. There has been enough death and destruction. We do not need to add more. We've all survived by the Grace of God so, I guess, that makes us the same. Brothers and Sisters."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer Character Portrait: Lukas Sarasparilla
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by dig17
The situation sprung up on him before he knew it. He wanted to talk to them, tell them everything, and try to relate, hope that one of them would connect. As he lowered his gun, he saw the figure, maybe a girl, maybe something more or less, emerging from the coat rack. He looked back and forth between the group and the store and simply holstered his gun, as though he was in his home and putting it on for a stroll outside with his concealed carry piece. With an ache, he leaned down to pick up the blue wool jacket he had thrown down in his fit. Once in his hands, he patted and waved it to dust off the glass and dirt from its top layer of fibers. He stood tall as he pulled his arms through the sleeves and worked the gold Eagle buttons into their place, letting the silence pass between the five of them like a fine wine. He tilted his hat toward whoever was inside, a polite gesture of the frontier, and began to walk away.

He had to walk past the group to get back to his car; though a bow was still trained on him, he paid it no mind, like it didn't exist at all in this world, like the wood had never been cut and the arrow never screwed together at a lonely factory somewhere in Massachusetts. He pretended their shoes had never been glued and stitched together by Taiwanese widows, their hair never fused with their DNA, their eyes having never seen the squander of America, and their hearts having never beat so fast by an angry man pointing a gun inside of a now-shattered clothing store. With this act, Danny walked around them, looking at the man who had spoken with the light of God on his shoulders.

"God ain't here, padre. Maybe he was, but I tell ya, I done looked everywhere. Sure as hell ain't shopping for tanktops in that place."

He wanted to talk to them so badly, but he kept on walking toward his car, feeling similar to walking in front of a firing squad. He wasn't in any danger, but there was something making him run away from them. He wanted to scream about it, about the event, and about how he couldn't find his kids no matter what he did. Maybe one of them knew his family, or heard word of them; maybe they'd provide a semblance of sympathy for the lost little ones, who for all he knew were thrown in one of the mass graves or lumbering inside of another Banana Republic in another empty town. He swallowed his grief down like ibuprofen for a broken leg, his mind still walking on a bone that had been shattered so long ago.

"By the way, town up north's full of them. Fresh ones, too, don't go that way. God ain't there, neither." He pointed in the direction that his vehicle's license plate was facing, waving that direction off like it was never coming back.

He climbed inside the XTerra and closed the door. There was nothing happening. No noise, no jingling of keys, not even a thought passing through his head; Danny believed that he could hear his beard growing in these small bouts of impromptu meditation. He made no movement, slowed his breathing, and stared directly into the steering wheel, taking note of the NISSAN logo printed into the leather. He sat in his car, staring like a monk about to set himself on fire, the pale breath between his lips slowly fading back and forth as his beard continued to collect a grey hue. He made no motions to try and start the car, only to give the impression that he was leaving, and, perhaps, to convince himself that the vehicle would carry him away to some grand escape from the world he had cherished so much that he devoted his life to its information. He would not look back to the group out of the self-conscious worry that he would look needy, or lonely, or resemble a lost puppy that just didn't know how to tell someone that it needed a hug. He didn't need a hug. He needed a time machine. And the road sure did stretch on for a long way.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer Character Portrait: Lukas Sarasparilla
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Just as sharply as the situation had been created, the tension had only grown. As she crawled forth from the coatrack, little Katchinah nearly jumped out of her shorts as a woman, stoic, like a medieval archer with her bow, stood ready, with the arrow pointed towards the 'crazed' man that had her seemingly trapped. The situation had been complicated further, when a priest, apparently, had joined the fray as well! Both of them urged that the situation needed to calm.... and honestly, Katchinah didn't think they were helping any. She couldn't say for sure... but... maybe she could've reasoned with the man.

Irregardless... The fellow, whom had once seem so hostile and mad.... now seemed solemn. Silently speaking as he moved away from the Banana Republic.... as if noone else was there! Katchinah had been scared of the fellow, but she felt her mind escape as she wondered who exactly he was. He could've been some kind of killer, for all she knew... but was he? He could've shot her, without even knowing who she was, and he didn't. Perhaps he wasn't so much of a bad guy? Or perhaps, just perhaps the indian girl was being delusional... as she had been before. She watched as he made his way to a vehicle, one that was his, maybe? And went to sit down. She wanted to cry out for him to wait.... But she didn't think that he would hear. Or even that he wanted to hear. His mutterings about the absence of God made her twinge. She had never believed Christianity would linger this long after the Apocalypse. She figured all the Die-Hards would have been slaughtered in their Churches - but she'd not dare say anything of doubt or hate towards the man for his beliefs. She had her own; he was entitled to his.

As she was left in the Banana Republic with the two strangers, she looked towards them, sliding her pistol back into the holster, the safety clicking loudly. "T-Thanks you..." She said softly, looking between the two; priest and archer alike. "Thanks you a lot. I'd hate to have thought that the fella'd get violent, but hombres get paranoid 'round zom-bres." She said, making the two words rhyme. She began to dust herself off, wiping the sweat off her brow, and then onto her shorts. She looked between the two again, her eyes filling with the slightest caution. "So... uh.... What exactly brings you here, out of all places?" She asked, out of curiosity, her eyes looking to see if a new vehicle had joined hers outside, without her even knowing! "W-well, it doesn't matter anyway... I-I went and shot... and so did... uh... t-that guy.... So we shouldn't stay here long. We should get going, actually..." She said, hurriedly. "Otherwise, we might find a few of the... deceased. The Wind tells me so - It brings me their stench." She said, shaking her head. "We shouldn't stay here long.... We can introduce each other later, though!" She said, drumming her finger on her gun's grip.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Diana watched as the mad man made his way out of the destroyed department store. As he passed she lowered her bow perceiving that he was no longer a threat to her, the indian girl, and the priest. He muttered to the priest about God no longer being present in this world as well as his warning of the town in the north teeming with zoms.

She had never been one for religion. She was raised in a mixed-religion family and she saw no value in either Buddhism or Christianity. She had a scientific view on the world and she considered herself correct in her theory when the population began rising from the dead and devouring one another. What else could it be but a deadly plague spreading through dead hosts? Surely it wasn't a divine plan by an almighty being looking to purify the human race.

She shook her head to clear her mind of the confusion of religion and science and watched as the man climbed into a car she hadn't previously noticed as there. She turned as the one-armed girl stepped beside them. She watched the young girl holster her pistol and listened as she spoke. "T-Thanks you..." she said looking at both her and the priest "Thanks you a lot. I'd hate to have thought that the fella'd get violent, but hombres get paranoid 'round zom-bres." she said while wiping the dust and sweat from herself. The girl looked cautiously at Diana and the priest again and asked "So... uh.... What exactly brings you here, out of all places?" Her eyes wandered to the man in the vehicle. She looked as if she wanted to go out and help him. "W-well, it doesn't matter anyway... I-I went and shot... and so did... uh... t-that guy.... So we shouldn't stay here long. We should get going, actually..." She said in a hurry. "Otherwise, we might find a few of the... deceased. The Wind tells me so - It brings me their stench." She shook her head as if to clear the stench of the dead from her nostrils. "We shouldn't stay here long.... We can introduce each other later, though!"

Diana nodded her head and looked back at the mad man in the vehicle. It was more than obvious that he was of an unstable mind, but she had this overwhelming sense of wanting to help him. Maybe if he had just had companions to keep him sane... I mean anyone would go insane if they're alone for too long. she thought with a squint at him. She looked to the priest and then at the young girl and then back at the man in the vehicle. It couldn't be more obvious that the priest and the girl would stay with her if she asked and the man could be useful. She went to talk to the man.

She walked up to the car and tapped on the window. He seemed almost catatonic sitting there and for a second she feared that he may be infected but her conscience would not rest if she didn't speak with him. He looked as if he wouldn't be rolling down the window so she spoke through it hoping that he could hear her. "Excuse me, I know you're a little....upset right now, but I think that if we work together we could find a better way to survive. Humans are meant to be together. We're social creatures and if you join us, I think you'll feel better, don't you?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

"God ain't here, padre. Maybe he was, but I tell ya, I done looked everywhere. Sure as hell ain't shopping for tanktops in that place."

He laughed. James wasn't sure if it was so much the sarcastic jab the man made so much as the fact that he didn't know anymore. He was a Seminarian, the bookish over-educated type that spent his days before the plague learning catechism and pondering theology, but the fact was that with one swift stroke, his life broken into thousands of little pieces and he really just didn't know what to say or do. He didn't know what his purpose was.

"I doubt He would be shopping for anything. Someone once told me that God was in a lot of places He didn't want to be either," he announced when he was finished laughing.

"So... uh.... What exactly brings you here, out of all places?"


At the Indian girl's words, he paused for a moment, turning to give her a weary smile.

"We heard a gunshot and that meant there were people and people in trouble at that. You should thank her," he told her, pointing at woman wielding a bow and arrow, "She was the first to head for you guys. I just followed."

He sighed, watching the older man head towards a car, but not staring it. Maybe it was naivete or desperation for everything not to get even worse, but James didn't think the man was dangerous. At least, he didn't think he was anymore dangerous than a normal person would be in this situation. The man could have shot at them or the girl a long time ago, but didn't and he didn't threaten them. His words didn't betray anger, only.... despair? James frowned at that. Luckily, it seems that the woman he was with was thinking along the same lines.

"Excuse me, I know you're a little....upset right now, but I think that if we work together we could find a better way to survive. Humans are meant to be together. We're social creatures and if you join us, I think you'll feel better, don't you?"

"She is right, you know," James told older man with a sad smile, "We are all human and we need to stick together to survive. That's how God, evolution, society, or any combination of three made us. We need to stay together and take refuge somewhere safe."

He paused for a moment, looking down the avenue that showcased American consumerism at its height, "There should be a bar or restaurant somewhere down this street and if we are fortunate, then one might not be cleaned out and can hide us for the night."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

With the priest acknowledging the danger that was about, as well as the girl joining him, she smiled slightly. She had at least come across rational survivors, not the 'gun them all down' type. The priest proposed that there might be an eatery of some sort, and the one-armed girl only was left to think about it. She hadn't eaten at all today, and the thought of food delighted her to no end. But she tried not to expend her rations without seeing if there was a local food source. Hopefully, the Holy Man was right.

But meanwhile, as she followed the group out of the clothing store, it seemed they were quite interested in the man that she'd almost gotten into a firefight with. Instinctively, she slightly hid behind the priest, keeping her only hand on the grip of her pistol. She looked around - and in that short distance she could see, there were no yet zombies... but the tension was definitely rising. The Wind brought her no birds singing, and the dark, uneasy feeling she felt inside her from looking at the overcast daylight.... She began to move away from her compatriots, moving towards her own vehicle. She looked in the back, making sure that all of the things were still there... confirming that her Jeep hadn't been looted. She quickly pressed a dirty palm to the top of frame, and hopped into the driver's seat. The vehicle shook gently with her weight, as she reached around inside of her right-hand pants pocket, which bulged with things.... and retrieved her keys. Sliding them into the ignition, she let her little Wrangler jump to life, beginning to drive back to the other car, pulling up beside it.

"Come on, Amigos." She said out the window. "We don't got us all day for this. I don't mean t' rush, but I really don't wanna run into those dead guys." She said, looking around again.

cron