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Katchinah Dwam

A young Apache indian girl, taken from the hardships of the wastes, and turned into the most rag-doll-like person you'd seen.

0 · 342 views · located in United States

a character in “The Solanum Virus 2”, as played by Vio-Lance

Description

Image

Full name: Katchinah Kayna Dwam

Gender: Female

Age: Sixteen

Personality: Despite looking like she just crawled from some burnt-out hole in the ground after being shot and chased, Katchinah is very bright and peppy. One could go out on a limb and say she is too much so, but in the wasteland, it's good to see a soft, carefree smile. The indian is usually very happy, and eager to meet other people. While admittedly this gets her in trouble most of the time, she ends up enjoying it in the end. And really, that is her goal in the end. Having a good time. She knows she's not exactly the most likely to survive, so while she does, she is sure to enjoy what she can. She loves to joke around with friend, and really try and make them forget that they're in a terrible situation.

Despite being so cheery, it's not uncommon for her to be frightened either. Not so much of zombies, honestly, but of people. Particularly big, scary looking ones. She's visibly nervous (quivering and stuttering) around those whom intimidate her. This is due to her past experience, and she is particularly fearful of ex-military. It is very common for her to stalk people she is thinking about confronting, watching them from the shadows, and seeing if they're dangerous.

She has an undying sense of self preservation, and more than likely will flee if it is just her in a fight. However, when push comes to shove, she tries her best to steady her gun, and protect her friends when she has to.

Appearance: A more rugged, ragged and tattered person, one would be challenged to find, as the little indian girl that stands before you is testament to the harshness that comes from the wastelands.

Katchinah has a rough, dirty complexion, with moderately tanned skin. Her face is dusted with dark freckles across her cheeks and her nose. Her facial features are soft, and tired looking, almost as if currently exhausted, but the way she almost always bears smirk or smile says otherwise. There are wrinkles under her eyes from fatigue, and it's clear she hasn't had much rest. Katchinah's hair is a sandy blonde, dirty from the lack of hygiene, but at least it is put up nicely. The golden locks are pulled up into a tribal bun, with braids hanging off to either side. These braids often have beads, or twine woven into them, to give her hair a bright, outstanding depth. The indian girl has light scarring on her face, across her right cheek, and right brow. Few of these scars really look that old, but none are fresh. Katchinah's left nostril is pierced with a steel hoop, as is the right corner of her bottom lip. On the right side of her face, dark navy facial tattoos span around her eye socket. The tribal meaning for the pattern of arrows is to symbolize that her eyes are open to the world, and that she is more perceptive and wise than she lets on. Surprisingly her ears remain unpierced, although her left one has a triangular wedge perfectly removed from it.

Katchinah's body is almost astonishing to look at. To think a little girl could withstand so much.

To start, she is roughly 5'2; very short, but slightly broad, weighing close to 120 lbs. Her shoulders looked to be a little wider than most girl's- not by a whole lot, but it is clear she was an "A" type body. Decending from her shoulder was her rather slender chest, bearing a very modest, and small bust; perhaps an A-Cup, but a very small one if that. Her belly is flat, and moderately toned. However, what stands most out about her body is that she is actually missing her left arm; seemingly removed at the shoulder, sewn and sealed. The wound has had much time to heal, as it has completely scarred over. Her only arm is slightly muscular, bearing lean muscle instead of bulk. Her hips and backside are unflattering to say the least, and her legs are very athletic; obvious that she runs a lot. and ending her body are quite large feet. All across her tanned, dirty skin are injuries - most of them minor, and some very recent. Scrapes here and there, cuts, bruises, and plenty of scars. None serious, but it's not uncommon to see her with band-aids and makeshift bandages tied around herself.

Clothing wise, Katchinah only has one change of clothes, and they're getting quite dirty, and fairly ragged. Around her neck are countless charms, necklaces, beads, frills, and bands... about ten of them. Some of them are quarter-machine junk-pieces, while others seem to be authentic hand-made necklaces. Katchinah's upper body is covered by a brown tank top, with a sports-bra underneath. Her forearm is covered by elbow-length fingerless knuckle-duster gloves; the black leather worn. Across her covered wrist are charms, like the ones that cover her neck. These ones often jingle slightly if she moves very suddenly. Her right elbow is covered by a thick plastic pad, like one worn for skateboarding. Her lower body is covered by a pair of khaki denim shorts, reaching down to her mid-thigh, and her pockets rattle with spare shotgun shells as she walks. She has a holstered Glock 19 on her right hip. Running up her legs, to over the knee are rainbow-striped socks, which are still quite bright despite age. And her big, indian feet are covered up by black combat boots that reach to her knees.

Likes/dislikes:

Music
The wind
Causality; being very casual about everything, and not caring about manners around her.
Dogs
Revolvers
--
Military Personal/Law Enforcement
Cold Weather
Extremely loud weapons (chainsaws, weapons above .308win or .357 Magnum usually bother her ears)
Water (Hydrophobic)
Needles

Short history:
While detail could be gone into - keeping it brief is much preferred. She should tell her story.

She was originally from New Mexico. No mother, and an overprotective, ritualistic father. She was taught the way of her Apache ancestors, with modern twists. She does not believe in a god, but instead, believes in nature. Particularly the WIND. She prays to the wind, and it 'talks' to her.

When the apocalyptic disease struck, she and her father packed up, and headed for DC in their vehicle; their jeep. After a week of travel, and the decent into chaos, she and her father are attacked by Highwaymen, most of them ex-military and AWOL soldiers. Katchinah's father killed, and Katchinah herself was taken prisoner. During this time, Katchinah would lose her left arm. After two weeks of being prisoner, she had managed to escape, stealing some supplies, and a vehicle in the process.

Katchinah, alone, would meet up on the road with a travelling caravan; headed towards DC. Deciding to travel with them, they 'adopt' her into their group. Whilst in this group, Katchinah learns moderate survival skills, and toughens up considerably. She also learns how to get by with only one arm. After two months, the group that she'd been captured by struck again; Katchinah this time escaping their grasp with the help of her Caravan friends. Still, to this day, she is being chased by these thugs. However, she's been hiding in town from town - ducking in for a few days, then moving to the next.

Equipment

Weapons:

Full Size Glock 19 Semi-Automatic Pistol
One of the 'Plastic Peacemakers', found it's way into Katchinah's possession. While not fond of the glock's look or feel, she has to admit that it performs without a doubt. Maintainence or not, it will shoot. The full size of the pistol makes it so that you cannot conceal it as well, but, Katchinah doesn't bother with concealment, especially since she has a holster on her hip. She carries not the flush magazines for the weapon, but instead, the extended capacity 33 round magazines. She has three in total. While the weapon is not fully automatic, it's good to not have to stop and reload in the middle of a firefight, or a huge swarm of zombies. The extra weight also helps reduce recoil slightly. The weapon is chaimbered in 9mm Parabellum, a common round, with high velocity, and low recoil.

Curved Combat Knife
A very simple tool with a wicked metal curve. Not much to it. It's pretty basic.

Survival Gear:
In Backpack
Binoculars
Matches
Bleach
Ramen Noodles
50 feet of rope
Packets of oatmeal
2 liter bottle of water
Signal Mirror
Compass

In Vehicle:
Pack of Bic lighters
Sleeping Bag
Inflatable pillow
Basic First Aid Supplies (Bandages, alcohol, disinfectant, things like such; very novice things)
Three Cartons of Cigarettes
Large Case of 9mm Ammuntion (1,000)
Three five gallon Jerry-cans of fuel.

Vehicle:
Jeep Wrangler

So begins...

Katchinah Dwam's Story

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Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam
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The radio quietly crackled as Katchinah drove around the small city patiently, gripping the wheel quite laxly, actually. Her green eyes watched the abandoned road, swerving across the blacktop to avoid cars, and corpses. She had one thing on her mind right now - supplies. The things that had kept her going so long. The young girl clung to her father's dream of reaching DC, although she seldom had any idea why she was heading over there in the first place. Was it safe? Was the army there? She didn't know.... but she reaaallly hoped that was the case. She forced a smile, turning to the left, and pulling into what she could only assume was this small, now ashy smudge on the map's shopping center. Or at least one of them. She didn't even bother to turn on her signals; as her car noisily squealed, and it's engine roared louder as she began to check the parking lot for good-shape vehicles....

There weren't many. And the ones that were there were abandoned. She prayed that meant no people. No people usually means no zombies....

With a sigh, Katchinah sloppily parked the Jeep, and turned the ignition off, leaving her with the soft whine of silence. She pushed the door open, letting it swing all the way out. The wind blew softly; blowing her hair as she leant out of the frame of her vehicle. She had to stop and close her eyes. Even in this foul world, the wind still blew; the guardian of nature still was strong. She had to smile softly, and shake her head. It did no good to lose her thoughts now. She turned around in her vehicle, and began to rearrange her things; stuffing things under the seats, and wherever else she could hide them. And empty car was one not worth looting, and she didn't want half her supplies to be missing, if not all of them. Satisfied with her job, she turned her waist to the side, and pushed herself out of the vehicle, those big, booted feet hitting the ground loudly. She turned, closing and locking her door with the key.

The one-armed girl peered around the stores, searching for one that looked like the parking lot: Uninhabited. And the first store she happened to set eyes upon was Banana Republic. She wasn't familiar with the store; she couldn't exactly say they were everywhere in New Mexico. In fact, in her cross country tour...it was safe to say she hadn't ran into any of them. Of course, she could've just overlooked them. She rarely went to clothing stores - why wear clean clothes if they were just going to get dirty. Why wear clean clothes; you weren't trying to impress anyone. There was little social interaction between people these days, that it didn't even matter. Her heart sank a little... but she told herself to stay strong.

She looked down at her own clothing. It was pretty tattered and dirty. But then again, so was the young girl herself. She didn't offend, thank goodness. She had that much hygiene, but it was clear she didn't care that her skin had splotches of dirt and cloths dusted with black from asphalt. But, thinking positively, she might find something useful- tradeable even.

As she walked up to the building, she reached down, fingering the glock on her hip. She frowned at the hard, cold plastic, but she knew she'd have to use it. She tried to put on a brave face as she pulled it from the holster, and clicked off the safety - she always traveled cocked-and-locked... because chambering rounds wasn't exactly her forte with just one hand to do it. She drew closer and closer to the door, taking note... that this poor store must've been looted the first month or so. The building was trashed - even porcelain fixtures smashed to pieces on the ground. She flung her head from side to side,looking to see what is in the store... mostly clothing. Half of it didn't even look valuble; it was the kind of attire that douchebags wore. The kind that let their pants sag, their ass show and the wore a hat so far back on their head that it was in danger if they stopped looking at women's asses. Or the skate-punks that thought they were hardcore for skating. Both of which were the kind of people Katchinah never really saw eye-to-eye with. But maybe there was more inside. She had no idea what else they sold.... The girl's boots crunched through glass and debris as she moved into the store.

The inside was no less wrecked. In fact, it was even more-so. People had certainly gone out of their way to destroy this place.... but then she figured that if douchebags were looting it, there were a lot of fake fights, and 'Come at me, bro's shouted at each other, before they proceeded to whine about their shoes getting stepped on. Katchinah raised her pistol softly as she moved through the store. She carefully went around every corner, keeping lower and lower to the ground. The silence was almost disturbing. She closed her eyes to think.... And stood a little more straight. She hadn't heard the rustle of undead, nor was their evidence of any....

She stopped in the middle of her thought. Blood was smeared across the floor, leaving a trail to the corpse that made it. With a gentle frown, she stepped over the blood, making sure not to get any on the bottom of her boots. She didn't need a trail of blood. But it certainly made her even more cautious.... The blood was not dried... which meant it was fresh... She almost began to squat as she moved- wondering what had caused the undead's demise.... And her ears perked as she heard it. The indian girl almost dropped prone. Soft voices; murmuring. Her eyes went wide; there was a person in the store...She gulped hard, and began to backpedal. She couldn't hear what the person was saying. Or at least, not entirely. All she could make out was 'fucking die... fucking die'. It was not entirely convincing that whoever this was...wherever they were, were exactly friendly. She decided that there was nothing worth dying for inside a douche-canoe store. Keeping her gun forward, she began to back up....

However, she forgot what exactly was behind her. The slick, dead blood trail was under her foot. She gasped, and tried to find her footing suddenly... and only succeeded in falling harder. She let out a small scream as she hit the ground, her butt smacking the hard floor, and the gun going off in her hand, which made her scream again. The bullet ricocheted out of the store, luckily, but her ears still rang slightly, and her arse still stung. She was lucky she didn't shoot herself! She began to stand up, only to realize that she had not exactly been quiet... She rolled over to her hand, and skittered over to a rack of clothing... unaware of the bloody boots leading potential followers straight to her....

Setting

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Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory
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#, 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!"

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Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory
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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
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"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
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"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
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#, 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
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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.

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Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer
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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?"

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Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer
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"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."

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Character Portrait: Katchinah Dwam Character Portrait: Danny Gregory Character Portrait: Diana Tanashiba Character Portrait: James Frazer
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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.