Cat and Biters and Bikers...Oh MY (OPEN)a

[Ldy_Sea]

OOC​

To Join...
This roleplay is open to anyone.
No need for a PM to get permission.
No need for a character description.
Just jump right in and do as you will.
As of now there is no OOC thread. If one becomes needed, it will be posted here...

Background
This RP takes place in the world of TWD so all of those rules apply...

1. If you die you turn, even if you weren't bitten.
2. A scratch will cause you to turn.
3. Covering yourself in walker blood is camouflage.
4. Traveling with toothless walkers is camouflage.
5. The time to turn varies from 3 minutes to 8 hours.
6. Animals do not get infected.
7. Zombies move slowly, they do not run or climb.
8. The word Zombie is never used IC. Walkers, Biters, Roamers, Stinkers, Corpses, Lame Brains, and other names are used instead. (In the world of TWD there are no Zombie movies or Zombie lore, so no one knows that word).

This RP starts after the TWD episode Coda, (the one where Beth dies). This is about 1.5 years into the Outbreak. Rick et al will not appear in this RP at all.

Rules

1. Do not kill off another character without permission.
2. Do not take over another writers characters.
3. Try to post daily, or at least more than 3 times a week.
4. If the story moves forward while you are not posting, just rejoin in where we are, don't write a catch up.
5. The survivors in Grady Memorial are NPC's, if needed, and can be used by anyone.
6. Any writer who doesn't post for 15 days in a row will have there character killed off.
7. Woodbury is in ashes, the prison is overrun and the fences are down, terminous is destroyed. No using these locales for your base/camp.
8. More rules will be added if/when they are needed.

SO IT BEGINS...​

Cat was hungry, tired, cold, hungry, scared, thirsty, hungry, and naked. It had been almost a year since her nightmare began. Not that the world hadn't gone to shit before that, but she had been surviving with her sister, and her boyfriend. But that was before she had the misfortune to run into THEM. Cat shuddered when she thought of them, and what they were still doing to her sister, especially now that she had escaped.

Cat knew she needed help, and hoped to find someone, well someone who was still alive and had some remnants of humaniy left. Someone who would help her save her sister before she was used up.

Cat walked down the road staying close to the overgrown shoulder so she would be able to hide, in case anything dangerous than the mosquitoes that were feasting on her naked flesh, came her way. She barely noticed them, because she was so undernourished and dehydrated there was barely anything for them to suck from her veins.

As she stumbled and weaved down the road, she prayed that she would find some food, clothes and a weapon. She didn't care in what order, but she needed all of them and soon.

Cat saw a bridge up ahead and then a faded sign reading Yellow Jacket Creek. Cat had no idea where she was. She didn't even know what state she was in, not that it mattered anymore. Cat tried to walk down the incline to the waters edge, but she tripped on some vine and ended up sliding down the almost invisible path. Cat found a small stream, by landing in it as her body came to a stop.

The fresh flowing water felt wonderful despite how cold it was. It was the closest thing she had to a bath since she went into that damned bar for a drink. That was when things went from bad to worse.

Cat tried to scrub the layers of dirt, grime and other disgusting substances off her skin trying not to think of what made up the layers of filth covering her once beautiful skin. Cat lay down and let the icy water run over her, as she greedily drank her fill and then some. It had been months since she had bathed, and that was... she didn't want to think about that right now.

The water was the most delicious and pure thing Cat had ever tasted. Wishing she had a way to carry some with her, Cat soon climbed out of the creek, after noticing that the sun was going down. Carefully climbing back up the way she had come, Cat set her raw and bleeding foot onto the bridge, and began to walk across it. She looked at each corpse on the bridge to see if it would move. In her experience there were two types of the undead. Those that moved around hunting for food, and those that lay in wait waiting for prey to stumble across their path.

Even though none of them moved, cat gave then a wide berth and maneuvered around the derelict cars on the bridge hoping to see one that had some food or clothes in ti. Unfortunately most of them had been picked clean by other survivors. When cat was about to reach the far side of the bridge, she heard the sound she hated most in the world, the sound of motorcycles ciming from behind her and getting closer.

Cat looked for a place to hide and saw a car a few feet away with the trunk open. Cat quickly jumped in and seeing the interior trunk release she pulled the trunk closed hoping her impromptu hiding place was secure enough to hide her from the bikers and the biters.

The sounds of the motorcycles, muffled by the closed trunk got closer and closer and Cat began to mumble to herself "Please don't let them find me, Please don't let them find me, Please don't let them find me..." over and over again.

Soon to bikes got so loud Cat had to plug her ears, and then the sound began to fade. Cat curled up cried herself to sleep. As she slept her dream started the night that would haunt her forever. in her sleep she murmured please help me as she rocked herself in her sleep.

 

[kizkiz]

The hunted and the hunted.

Pete had seen the damsel in distress so many times that he couldn’t believe that anyone alive could fall for it anymore. He lowered his binoculars and scanned the creek bed and the dozen copses of trees that dotted the waist high grass. The highway that cut through the wilderness was dotted with cars. It'd take a few more years before the asphalt broke apart, but already moss and few weeds had found purchase.

Pete gave a low warble. Buck crawled through the bushes to him. Pete spent a few seconds stroking behind Buck’s hears. “So,” Pete said in a hoarse whisper, “Where are they?”

Buck pushed his cold nose into Pete’s neck and licked. Buck’s body was easy at first, but then tensed.

Pete lowered the binoculars to check out the bait. The bikers didn’t often bait with naked flesh, but they must be getting desperate. His left hand fell down to the head of his hatchet. Amongst the boy scouts there had been a movement in the days before the fall of mankind towards extreme survival. Pete patted the hatchet while watching the bait frolic like a spring lamb in the water. The lines on his face were hard.

Over the last 18 months, hunting the hunters had become quite profitable. Pete unslung his compound bow. Fletching had been his favorite class to teach at the summer camps. Losing his boys and the other scout masters had been hard. The first few traps so early on had been hard to resist from springing. They were boy scouts after all and something like chivalry had been beat into the scouts.

The bait climbed the side of the bank and took tentative steps that looked almost like a shamble. With as much grim and shit on her body, she might have been scraped. Everyone had to be prudent with the resources they had available. It would explain why they’d cut her loose without clothes. What does a walker need with clothing? The way her skin seemed to be plastered over her ribs and her hip bones jutted out, made him wonder if the bait had some sort of chronic disease. Cancer maybe? It’d explain why they’d risk a filly. So the bait was dying of cancer and so close that it wasn’t even worth wasting clothes on her.

Pete shook his head. Fisherman did worse with worms. At least the bikers hadn’t hacked one of her limbs off. He wasn’t sure if they were getting close to considering humans as food or not, but then again no one wanted to eat cancerous flesh. Pete nocked the arrow. If this had been even fifteen months ago, he’d already be down there throwing a blanket around her. If this had been six months ago, he’d be putting an arrow through her eye. Now, he just waited to see if it’d be profitable killing the hunters. Most hunting parties were no more than four, which was doable with surprise, cover, and terrain in his favor. He didn’t have time to make a proper blind.

He’d been shadowing the creek at about fifty yards. There were less walkers in the wilderness and water was way more valuable than roads. Water had deer and rabbits. Roads had rapists and walkers. Besides, most of the cars had been picked cleaned. The two lane highway looked well used from the way some of the cars had been repositioned to make strategic fallback points and clean sight lines. The motorcycles had been echoing across the wilderness for three nights, but this was his first sign of them.

Pete kept the arrow loose on his bow, no use in wasting calories yet. When the bikers did come, Pete was worried he’d missed something. He’d not seen a spotter, but cover on the other side of the highway wasn’t bad. Not as good as on this side of the highway, but still there were a few places that a scout could bed down. Even a few of the car piles looked like crow nests.

Pete raised the binoculars to his face, watching the bikers approach. True to form, it was four of them. On motorcycles they had way more mobility than was prudent to engage against. He could get one or two, but they could ride him down. He scowled checking his six. He gave a different warble, and Buck retreated back to their camp.

It was in a small glade a hundred yards back. Buck would warn him if anyone was back that way. He doubted it. The map he’d found last month didn’t indicate any settlements along the creek on this side of the highway. He’d caught a buck a week back, so he had enough meat for a month, but winter was coming. He needed to find a place to weather the winter, and there really hadn’t been many good options so far. The fire tower in the Smokey Mountains was still months away.

The bikers never even gave a glance at the trunk where the bait hid. They rolled on; their bikes cracked like thunder. The bait didn’t emerge to greet them. Still, maybe she was more like a monkey trap. A throw away against a bigger band and deadly to the solo or triad wandering about. If she earned her keep, they’d let her die with a bit of dignity. If someone took her or whatever, so what?

Pete lowered the bow and replaced the arrow back in its quiver. He retreated back the way he came, walking in the tracks he'd made in reverse. Buck was waiting by their gear. Pete knelt and gave Buck a hug. Then sat up and ran a hand down along Buck’s flank. “Welp,” Pete said and then went silent.

Buck nuzzled him a few minutes later.

Pete shook his head. “Sorry, just.” Pete got up and cut a hunk of the dried deer meat and tossed it to Buck, who fell upon it. Pete took some for himself and munched on it. “I doubt they can…” Pete shook his head again. “Buck, you are.” Pete sighed. “I’m losing it.”

He always liked to think that he could survive on his own like some monk. “I miss them.” He sighed, looking down at Buck. “And you aren’t getting any younger.” He’d been meaning to find another one or two to train, but so far the packs had been too feral. If he could find a good bitch, breeding Buck had an appeal to it. His thoughts wandered back to the bait in the trunk. Mating. He shook his head. Even masterbating a few times didn’t clear his head. At least he was convinced it wasn’t lust. He wasn’t sure if there was a place for purer emotions in this world.

Still Pete slept on it. He woke before the dawn. He restrung the meat high up in the tree, but put about three pounds of it in Buck’s travel pack. He added a hoodie and some sweat pants. He wasn't about to risk his spare pair of boots on the bait. Those boots were even more valuable than Buck.

“Okay, let’s…”

When they got back to the copse of tree’s he'd been positioned in before, Pete pointed at the car. “Don’t be stupid, hear?” He held Buck’s face close to his. “First sign you bolt.”

Buck whined low and quiet then licked Pete’s nose.

“Alright, go get her.”

Buck loped off towards the car. Pete loosed his hatchet in its sheath. He took out an arrow and notched his bow. This time he pulled it back, panning the area.

 

[meowmeow77]

Is this thread still in use? It sounds very interesting so far!

 

[kizkiz]

Is this thread still in use? It sounds very interesting so far!

Throw up a post and I'll respond within a week or two. I'm a wee bit busy these days, but I was feeling my character there. I'm not sure what happened to Sea.