Bite (In Which An Unfortunate Vampire Has An Unfortunate Time)
[x] "I'm going to go out and find-
- [x] Weapons for the humans and ammunition for their firearms. I want them to be able to defend themselves if I'm not here and you're still out for the count."
- [x] Weapons for the humans and ammunition for their firearms. I want them to be able to defend themselves if I'm not here and you're still out for the count."
DMUA
Z I P P E R M A N
- Location
- San Diego
I was with James on this one.
Anyways...
[X] "I'm going to go out and find-
-[X] Just whatever we can find. Building Supplies, Weapons and Food are all an absolute must in the grand scheme of things.
--[X]If we just so happened to accidentally run into some Zombies on the way, rip them apart without mercy. The less of these things we have, the better. Remember to stay at the edge of crowds so we don't get surrounded and bitten.
Chapter 17: In which life finds a way
TheNine
I’ll compromise with the skeletons
- Location
- The good ol' US of A
- Pronouns
- He/Him
"I'm going to go out and find weapons for the humans and ammunition for their firearms. I want them to be able to defend themselves if I'm not here and you're still out for the count. I'll be sure to be back before sunrise, obviously, and if I can find anything else that might be useful I'll bring it back while I'm at it. However, I have to ask- where might I be able to find ammunition and weapons?"
"Well, as for actual guns and ammo, you'll probably have to find a gun store. We've got a few in town, but I don't think I could provide exact directions to one. If you just need something like, you know, melee type weapons, you'll have no trouble finding them at a super-store or hardware store. You know, baseball bats, axes, hatchets, big knives. Sledgehammers."
He chuckles to himself at that last one, evidently amused by the idea of someone deciding to use a sledgehammer to fight zombies. "For that matter, you might be able to get some guns and ammo at a superstore too."
"A "superstore?"
"Man, you are out of touch. Like a real big store that carries all kinds of goods. From food to electronics to hardware supplies, clothes, and even sporting goods and guns and the like. The main name you're gonna be looking for is a "Wal-Mart," but I'm pretty sure "Target" also carries the same sort of things."
You nod, marking the names in your head for future reference. "Then I'll keep those in mind. Have you any clue what to look for to find a gun store?"
"Typically, they're pretty small, so they don't exactly jump out- but believe you me, your average gun store is damn proud to be a gun store if you get me. They've got it plastered everywhere. Hard to even take 'em serious sometimes. I imagine it'll be pretty hard to miss one."
Again, you nod. "I suppose that's about all. Make sure to treat yourself well. I'm glad to see you're doing better, but remember, you can't let yourself be too weakened."
He chuckles and pulls down at his collar, showing off a sore red mark in his skin in the shape of- bloody hell, a cross. You squint. "What in the world is your point and why?"
"For quite literally decades now I've worn a silver cross around my neck and under my clothes. It weakens me just enough that I feel I'll never get out of control. It stings, but I'm so used to it that I'd actually forgotten about it until earlier tonight. It's hanging on the wall in my room, so don't be surprised if you walk in there."
"No, it's no problem. I'm just... well, I've gotten sensitive to things like that. It's what I get for isolating myself from any imagery that could possibly relate to..." You brace yourself. "Jesus Christ."
Your ears ring, and a horrible taste fills your mouth. You're not sure exactly why the rules are the way they are, but you're really not supposed to say that name. "I just have to get used to it."
He nods in understanding. "I can certainly sympathize. But moonlight's burning, and I had really ought to lay back down before everyone else wakes up. Godspeed, Zelemir."
You chuckle. "Godspeed indeed."
With that (and a dramatic flourish,) you turn and stalk out the door, remembering too late that 1: you aren't wearing a cape to dramatically flourish with, and 2: you had been planning to shower before you left.
But you'd look like a right idiot if you turned around and walked back in right now. So indeed it looks like you'll be forced to go out in your current sorry state. At least there won't be anyone to judge you. Not anyone living, at least. You chuckle to yourself, before frowning. "That's not the sort of thing I'm supposed to laugh at."
You begin running, feeling gloriously light on your feet what with your recent blood-gorging and the physical loss of your coat's weight. Actually, you feel pretty great in general, despite knowing you don't look the part. Perhaps this is actually what you needed. A brutal fight to the death, butchery flanking you on all sides, reconnecting with your inner predator. For decades now you've struggled to keep those tendencies intact, you've shied away from the very same violence that made up most of the first centuries of your immortal life.
But perhaps you merely tend toward war in general. You were born into it, trained for it, raised by it. Your earliest memories are bloodshed, conflict.
It occurs to you suddenly that you very literally died by the sword. Does that not dictate, then, that you must live by it? The internal discussion ultimately served more to amuse you than you actually prompt any important self-discovery, but you can't deny that you haven't felt this good in a very long time. A grin crosses your face as you rush toward an overturned automobile. You glance around it to see a group of the dead mindlessly walking in your vague direction. The devil on your shoulder is whispering in your ear, and his brother the angel is nowhere to be found.
You fucking punt that automobile. One solid kick into it's underside sends it hurtling a dozen meters into the air, spinning end-over-end. But naturally, what goes up must come down, and come down it does, crashing perfectly into the shuffling collection of corpses, utterly smashing the majority of them into near paste. You notice you've gotten gasoline everywhere, including on your shoe and pant leg. You don't worry about it much. You're merely pleased by your absolutely flawless aim. "Bloody perfect."
Having indulged your inner anarchist, you hop to the peak of a nearby building and begin seriously searching for the sort of superstore that James mentioned. Catching sight of an enormous, albeit short building about a kilometer away, you quickly rush over to it, ending up on its roof. You hop to the ground and glance at its corporate logo. "Ford." You're vaguely familiar with the name, and after a moment you recall that "Ford" is the name of a manufacturer of automobiles. They've been around for quite some time in this country.
Just as you're about to give up on this building and keep looking, an odd feeling gives you pause. You feel strangely like... you're being watched. Glancing around, you don't see anyone or anything at first, save a few sporadic groups of zombies. Suddenly though, your attention is brought to the peak of the building you had been standing on moments ago. Standing there, staring down at you is... a figure. You can't make out much of it, but in appearance it seems very similar to any other "zombie." Its flesh is somewhat rotten, most of its hair has fallen out, its clothes are completely gone save tattered pants... but how did it actually get up on top of that building?
Your question is suddenly answered when it takes two steps forward and makes a sudden leap through the air, landing just a few meters away from you. Your eyes go wide and you take an involuntary step back. You hadn't seen any other of its kin act even remotely in such a way. They simply shambled mindlessly about. They were much slower than your average human and barely stronger. They certainly didn't leap from the top of buildings like... well, like vampires!
It approaches you quietly, looking at you with eyes that belie a hint of intelligence. You're tempted to simply obliterate its brain with a punch, but you're too curious about its actions to attack immediately. Besides, it doesn't seem... particularly aggressive.
It steps closer and closer to you, until it's just a few centimeters away. At this distance, it's very obviously visually identical to other zombies, though its body doesn't seem to be quite as heavily rotten and you can't see a bite mark. It leans in toward you before... audibly sniffing at your shoulder. It takes another step forward, stepping past you, before sniffing at your back. You swiftly turn to face it. It seems surprised at your sudden movement and groans, almost tripping backwards. For a split-second, it stares you straight in the eye. You could swear it looks almost... angry.
And then, as suddenly as it started, it's over. It sighs, groans, and turns away from you, plodding slowly away like any other of its kin.
What the fuck was that thing and why was it so interested in you? And why didn't it attack? The zombies don't seem particularly interested in you thanks to your undead nature, but they typically attack anything that moves when they're that close up.
Still, it seems to have lost any interest in you, and is now slowly walking away.
[] Follow it. This has piqued your curiosity.
- [] Don't make a big deal of it. Just follow in its tracks.
- [] Follow it as stealthily as you can manage, tracking from shadows and rooftops.
[] Get its attention again. Tap it on the back or something.
[] Exterminate it here and now. Whatever it is, it's clearly more dangerous than your average zombie, and should doubtlessly be dealt with before it can deal damage to survivors.
[] Ignore it and continue on your quest for guns.
[] Write in...
"Well, as for actual guns and ammo, you'll probably have to find a gun store. We've got a few in town, but I don't think I could provide exact directions to one. If you just need something like, you know, melee type weapons, you'll have no trouble finding them at a super-store or hardware store. You know, baseball bats, axes, hatchets, big knives. Sledgehammers."
He chuckles to himself at that last one, evidently amused by the idea of someone deciding to use a sledgehammer to fight zombies. "For that matter, you might be able to get some guns and ammo at a superstore too."
"A "superstore?"
"Man, you are out of touch. Like a real big store that carries all kinds of goods. From food to electronics to hardware supplies, clothes, and even sporting goods and guns and the like. The main name you're gonna be looking for is a "Wal-Mart," but I'm pretty sure "Target" also carries the same sort of things."
You nod, marking the names in your head for future reference. "Then I'll keep those in mind. Have you any clue what to look for to find a gun store?"
"Typically, they're pretty small, so they don't exactly jump out- but believe you me, your average gun store is damn proud to be a gun store if you get me. They've got it plastered everywhere. Hard to even take 'em serious sometimes. I imagine it'll be pretty hard to miss one."
Again, you nod. "I suppose that's about all. Make sure to treat yourself well. I'm glad to see you're doing better, but remember, you can't let yourself be too weakened."
He chuckles and pulls down at his collar, showing off a sore red mark in his skin in the shape of- bloody hell, a cross. You squint. "What in the world is your point and why?"
"For quite literally decades now I've worn a silver cross around my neck and under my clothes. It weakens me just enough that I feel I'll never get out of control. It stings, but I'm so used to it that I'd actually forgotten about it until earlier tonight. It's hanging on the wall in my room, so don't be surprised if you walk in there."
"No, it's no problem. I'm just... well, I've gotten sensitive to things like that. It's what I get for isolating myself from any imagery that could possibly relate to..." You brace yourself. "Jesus Christ."
Your ears ring, and a horrible taste fills your mouth. You're not sure exactly why the rules are the way they are, but you're really not supposed to say that name. "I just have to get used to it."
He nods in understanding. "I can certainly sympathize. But moonlight's burning, and I had really ought to lay back down before everyone else wakes up. Godspeed, Zelemir."
You chuckle. "Godspeed indeed."
With that (and a dramatic flourish,) you turn and stalk out the door, remembering too late that 1: you aren't wearing a cape to dramatically flourish with, and 2: you had been planning to shower before you left.
But you'd look like a right idiot if you turned around and walked back in right now. So indeed it looks like you'll be forced to go out in your current sorry state. At least there won't be anyone to judge you. Not anyone living, at least. You chuckle to yourself, before frowning. "That's not the sort of thing I'm supposed to laugh at."
You begin running, feeling gloriously light on your feet what with your recent blood-gorging and the physical loss of your coat's weight. Actually, you feel pretty great in general, despite knowing you don't look the part. Perhaps this is actually what you needed. A brutal fight to the death, butchery flanking you on all sides, reconnecting with your inner predator. For decades now you've struggled to keep those tendencies intact, you've shied away from the very same violence that made up most of the first centuries of your immortal life.
But perhaps you merely tend toward war in general. You were born into it, trained for it, raised by it. Your earliest memories are bloodshed, conflict.
It occurs to you suddenly that you very literally died by the sword. Does that not dictate, then, that you must live by it? The internal discussion ultimately served more to amuse you than you actually prompt any important self-discovery, but you can't deny that you haven't felt this good in a very long time. A grin crosses your face as you rush toward an overturned automobile. You glance around it to see a group of the dead mindlessly walking in your vague direction. The devil on your shoulder is whispering in your ear, and his brother the angel is nowhere to be found.
You fucking punt that automobile. One solid kick into it's underside sends it hurtling a dozen meters into the air, spinning end-over-end. But naturally, what goes up must come down, and come down it does, crashing perfectly into the shuffling collection of corpses, utterly smashing the majority of them into near paste. You notice you've gotten gasoline everywhere, including on your shoe and pant leg. You don't worry about it much. You're merely pleased by your absolutely flawless aim. "Bloody perfect."
Having indulged your inner anarchist, you hop to the peak of a nearby building and begin seriously searching for the sort of superstore that James mentioned. Catching sight of an enormous, albeit short building about a kilometer away, you quickly rush over to it, ending up on its roof. You hop to the ground and glance at its corporate logo. "Ford." You're vaguely familiar with the name, and after a moment you recall that "Ford" is the name of a manufacturer of automobiles. They've been around for quite some time in this country.
Just as you're about to give up on this building and keep looking, an odd feeling gives you pause. You feel strangely like... you're being watched. Glancing around, you don't see anyone or anything at first, save a few sporadic groups of zombies. Suddenly though, your attention is brought to the peak of the building you had been standing on moments ago. Standing there, staring down at you is... a figure. You can't make out much of it, but in appearance it seems very similar to any other "zombie." Its flesh is somewhat rotten, most of its hair has fallen out, its clothes are completely gone save tattered pants... but how did it actually get up on top of that building?
Your question is suddenly answered when it takes two steps forward and makes a sudden leap through the air, landing just a few meters away from you. Your eyes go wide and you take an involuntary step back. You hadn't seen any other of its kin act even remotely in such a way. They simply shambled mindlessly about. They were much slower than your average human and barely stronger. They certainly didn't leap from the top of buildings like... well, like vampires!
It approaches you quietly, looking at you with eyes that belie a hint of intelligence. You're tempted to simply obliterate its brain with a punch, but you're too curious about its actions to attack immediately. Besides, it doesn't seem... particularly aggressive.
It steps closer and closer to you, until it's just a few centimeters away. At this distance, it's very obviously visually identical to other zombies, though its body doesn't seem to be quite as heavily rotten and you can't see a bite mark. It leans in toward you before... audibly sniffing at your shoulder. It takes another step forward, stepping past you, before sniffing at your back. You swiftly turn to face it. It seems surprised at your sudden movement and groans, almost tripping backwards. For a split-second, it stares you straight in the eye. You could swear it looks almost... angry.
And then, as suddenly as it started, it's over. It sighs, groans, and turns away from you, plodding slowly away like any other of its kin.
What the fuck was that thing and why was it so interested in you? And why didn't it attack? The zombies don't seem particularly interested in you thanks to your undead nature, but they typically attack anything that moves when they're that close up.
Still, it seems to have lost any interest in you, and is now slowly walking away.
[] Follow it. This has piqued your curiosity.
- [] Don't make a big deal of it. Just follow in its tracks.
- [] Follow it as stealthily as you can manage, tracking from shadows and rooftops.
[] Get its attention again. Tap it on the back or something.
[] Exterminate it here and now. Whatever it is, it's clearly more dangerous than your average zombie, and should doubtlessly be dealt with before it can deal damage to survivors.
[] Ignore it and continue on your quest for guns.
[] Write in...
[X] Exterminate it here and now. Whatever it is, it's clearly more dangerous than your average zombie, and should doubtlessly be dealt with before it can deal damage to survivors.
- Location
- Manchester, UK
- Pronouns
- He/They
[X] Exterminate it here and now. Whatever it is, it's clearly more dangerous than your average zombie, and should doubtlessly be dealt with before it can deal damage to survivors.
- Location
- Somewhere in the area
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
[X] Follow it. This has piqued your curiosity.
- [X] Don't make a big deal of it. Just follow in its tracks.
We have been introduced to our first special zombie. What should we call it, a Leaper?
- [X] Don't make a big deal of it. Just follow in its tracks.
We have been introduced to our first special zombie. What should we call it, a Leaper?
- Location
- Sydney
[X] Follow it. This has piqued your curiosity.
- [X] Don't make a big deal of it. Just follow in its tracks.
- [X] Don't make a big deal of it. Just follow in its tracks.
will408914
(slouching towards bethlehem)
- Location
- California
[X] Follow it. This has piqued your curiosity.
- [X] Don't make a big deal of it. Just follow in its tracks.
We need to know more about these things.
- [X] Don't make a big deal of it. Just follow in its tracks.
We need to know more about these things.
Chapter 18: In which another one bites the dust
TheNine
I’ll compromise with the skeletons
- Location
- The good ol' US of A
- Pronouns
- He/Him
You decide to follow it. There are several hours left in the night and you doubt you'll spend more than an hour maximum finding the weapons you want. No, no, you have plenty of time, and this curious undead gives you a use for that time. You set out after it.
You determine that you don't want to make a fool of yourself slinking after it like those meddling child detectives in the television show, and thus you simply walk a good ways behind it, following in its tracks. It passes through a few groups of undead which you detour around, but you never have much trouble keeping track of it. You follow it for a nearly unbearably boring half-hour before you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Again, you're filled with the unbearable sensation that you're being watched. You turn behind you and glance around, but see nothing and no one. Not on ground level, not from the rooftops... it's when you turn back, though, that you're really unnerved.
When you turn back around to face the undead you've been trailing, it's staring at you. Its glassy eyes stare right into yours, its pupils unnervingly focused despite their unquestionably rotten nature. Its entire body follows its head, slowly turning around to face you in full. For nearly a minute, the two of you stare at each other, neither breathing, neither acting. Unmoving, silent. Two sentinels in the still night air. Eventually, though, it finally makes its move. Its head cocks to the side, its body convulses for a split-second, and then it groans.
And then it steps. One single step in your direction. And then, a moment later, a second. The time between the second and the third is shorter, and the same goes for the third and the fourth. By its tenth step in your direction, it's closed a good portion of the distance between you. It's already moving faster than your average zombie. By its twentieth, it's nearly upon you, and moving as swiftly as a sprinting human.
It takes twenty-four steps for it to reach your position, but by then you've already leaped out of the way. It's sudden and aggressive charge was enough to unnerve you, force you to evade. When you land, a few meters away, it turns toward you and dashes in your direction again.
Despite its appearance, you sense purpose in its movements. You see steely determination in its eyes. It does not mindlessly shamble at you like its ilk, it does not seek only to bite and infect. No, this is something very different. This one seeks to kill. And you are its target. You dive out of its path again.
The third time it charges, you are ready for its attack. A moment before it reaches you, you swing for it with the back of your hand, seeking to bat it away. You succeed, feeling its shoulder shatter under the force of your slap, and you watch its body sail through the air like a ragdoll. When it lands, it quickly makes its way back to its feet. Its arm hangs at and odd angle, its shoulder utterly...
Wait, no it doesn't. Its arm seems completely fine, and its elbow...
Before your eyes, its elbow cracks back into place, and you see the protrusions in its skin that were nearly compound fractures disappear as its bone mends itself. It moans again, louder. You're reminded less of a human in pain and more of an enraged bull. Again, as it begins to move in your direction, you leap far away.
You can't focus on fighting when you're still trying to figure out what the fuck you just witnessed. This zombie not only sports superhuman physical abilities, moving faster than any human, it also regenerates. But it doesn't just regenerate like a vampire or lycan, no. It heals faster. Even you would have spent at least thirty seconds to a minute mending a shoulder broken that badly, but this creature couldn't have taken more than five or ten seconds to do the same.
You've run out of time to think. The creature has already caught up with you. You jump, then, to the peak of a building, but that also only offers a moment's reprise as the creature meets you there as well, following tight on your heels.
So be it.
You had mused on your inherent tendency toward violence before. You had deeply considered your history of bloodshed and warfare. Now it was time to back up all that bullshit with your actions. When you fought Ali bin Mihail, you were unprepared, out-of-practice, sloppy.
Now? You are very much prepared.
By the time this creature, the "super-zombie," as you've taken to calling it, has reached you, you've wound up for a kick to the chest that sends it hurtling back down to street-level. It lands hard on a curb, shattering the concrete beneath it as well as snapping its spine. You see its legs go limp for a few seconds as it flails with its arms. You know its spine will heal within a few moments.
You don't give it the time. You throw yourself off the side of the building, landing on top of it with a furious punch to its chest. You feel its ribs crumple under your blow, but before you can even pull away your fist they've begun to regrow. Distracted by this for a split-second, you're unprepared to block the blow to the side of your head that the "super-zombie" delivers with one of its hands. Its other has taken your free wrist in a steely grip, tighter than you'd ever have expected. Your unburdened fist lifts from the creature's chest, but it is also quickly gripped by its own free hand.
You struggle against it for a few moments, trying to overcome its hold on your wrist. Slowly, you make progress. Despite its utterly inhuman strength, you are stronger. You're the spawn of Dracula. You're stronger than almost everything. Nevertheless, it's a struggle for you to slowly pull away from its grasp...
Until you hear the crack. A horrible popping sound from the creature's body. It only takes a moment for you to realize what the sound means. An instant later, it realizes too, its legs driving into the concrete beneath it. Its spine has fully reattached. It throws its weight forward, forcing you both off of the ground and to your feet, before reaching toward you with its jaws. You pull backward and they snap closed mere centimeters from your neck. With it so overextended, you see your opportunity.
You slam your skull down onto the back of its own. You feel cracks form along its skull and for a split-second the fight goes out of the creature and its grip loosens on you. That's more than enough time for you to slam your foot into its chest, booting it through the air away from you. Miraculously, it manages to realign itself in midair and land almost perfectly on its feet. By the time it hits the ground, it appears its skull is already fully intact. What is this thing? Are you fighting a demon?
Your scowl of confusion and determination suddenly shifts into a grin.
Maybe it fucking is a demon. But will that stop you? Will it even slow you down?
Fuck no it won't. You are Count Zelemir, Undying Knight of Wallachia. No demon scares you, no mumbling undead gives you pause. If Satan himself rose from the Inferno to challenge you and threaten your dominion, you would send him right back down with a few mortal wounds for his trouble. So does this thing scare you? Does this "super-zombie" pose a threat?
Not in this century.
[] Attack! Strike at it like an animal, aiming to sever limbs or destroy its head. Even if it can somehow survive its brain being destroyed, beheading it would if nothing else incapacitate it long enough for you to determine a more permanent solution.
[] Defend. Keep it at a distance and make sure it can't get a grip on you again. Wait for a clear opening to attack its head, and when the time comes- don't miss.
[] Establish a more balanced plan of attack. Play conservatively and take opportunities to strike when you get them, but don't devote yourself to one gameplan or another. Stay fluid and flexible. Like this thing's blood and bones, respectively.
[] Use a more esoteric strategy.
- [] Use something nearby as a weapon.
-- [] What? A car door, a car, a stop sign used as an axe to behead it from a safe distance?
- You're more agile than it is. Lure it back up to the rooftops and use your superior mobility to keep yourself safe as you bat it away. You see no reason to fight on its terms.
- Aim for the limbs! It can regrow them quickly, but you doubt it can do it faster than you can shatter them or tear them off. While its helpless, it'll be at your mercy.
- Actually, it might be smart to target the heart, not the head. This thing doesn't follow the same rules as other zombies, so what's to say the brain is its weakness? It seems more similar to a vampire, so attempt to kill it like you would a vampire, not a zombie.
[] Run away like a cowardly fucking pussy and shame your name and sire for all of eternity.
[] Write in...
You determine that you don't want to make a fool of yourself slinking after it like those meddling child detectives in the television show, and thus you simply walk a good ways behind it, following in its tracks. It passes through a few groups of undead which you detour around, but you never have much trouble keeping track of it. You follow it for a nearly unbearably boring half-hour before you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Again, you're filled with the unbearable sensation that you're being watched. You turn behind you and glance around, but see nothing and no one. Not on ground level, not from the rooftops... it's when you turn back, though, that you're really unnerved.
When you turn back around to face the undead you've been trailing, it's staring at you. Its glassy eyes stare right into yours, its pupils unnervingly focused despite their unquestionably rotten nature. Its entire body follows its head, slowly turning around to face you in full. For nearly a minute, the two of you stare at each other, neither breathing, neither acting. Unmoving, silent. Two sentinels in the still night air. Eventually, though, it finally makes its move. Its head cocks to the side, its body convulses for a split-second, and then it groans.
And then it steps. One single step in your direction. And then, a moment later, a second. The time between the second and the third is shorter, and the same goes for the third and the fourth. By its tenth step in your direction, it's closed a good portion of the distance between you. It's already moving faster than your average zombie. By its twentieth, it's nearly upon you, and moving as swiftly as a sprinting human.
It takes twenty-four steps for it to reach your position, but by then you've already leaped out of the way. It's sudden and aggressive charge was enough to unnerve you, force you to evade. When you land, a few meters away, it turns toward you and dashes in your direction again.
Despite its appearance, you sense purpose in its movements. You see steely determination in its eyes. It does not mindlessly shamble at you like its ilk, it does not seek only to bite and infect. No, this is something very different. This one seeks to kill. And you are its target. You dive out of its path again.
The third time it charges, you are ready for its attack. A moment before it reaches you, you swing for it with the back of your hand, seeking to bat it away. You succeed, feeling its shoulder shatter under the force of your slap, and you watch its body sail through the air like a ragdoll. When it lands, it quickly makes its way back to its feet. Its arm hangs at and odd angle, its shoulder utterly...
Wait, no it doesn't. Its arm seems completely fine, and its elbow...
Before your eyes, its elbow cracks back into place, and you see the protrusions in its skin that were nearly compound fractures disappear as its bone mends itself. It moans again, louder. You're reminded less of a human in pain and more of an enraged bull. Again, as it begins to move in your direction, you leap far away.
You can't focus on fighting when you're still trying to figure out what the fuck you just witnessed. This zombie not only sports superhuman physical abilities, moving faster than any human, it also regenerates. But it doesn't just regenerate like a vampire or lycan, no. It heals faster. Even you would have spent at least thirty seconds to a minute mending a shoulder broken that badly, but this creature couldn't have taken more than five or ten seconds to do the same.
You've run out of time to think. The creature has already caught up with you. You jump, then, to the peak of a building, but that also only offers a moment's reprise as the creature meets you there as well, following tight on your heels.
So be it.
You had mused on your inherent tendency toward violence before. You had deeply considered your history of bloodshed and warfare. Now it was time to back up all that bullshit with your actions. When you fought Ali bin Mihail, you were unprepared, out-of-practice, sloppy.
Now? You are very much prepared.
By the time this creature, the "super-zombie," as you've taken to calling it, has reached you, you've wound up for a kick to the chest that sends it hurtling back down to street-level. It lands hard on a curb, shattering the concrete beneath it as well as snapping its spine. You see its legs go limp for a few seconds as it flails with its arms. You know its spine will heal within a few moments.
You don't give it the time. You throw yourself off the side of the building, landing on top of it with a furious punch to its chest. You feel its ribs crumple under your blow, but before you can even pull away your fist they've begun to regrow. Distracted by this for a split-second, you're unprepared to block the blow to the side of your head that the "super-zombie" delivers with one of its hands. Its other has taken your free wrist in a steely grip, tighter than you'd ever have expected. Your unburdened fist lifts from the creature's chest, but it is also quickly gripped by its own free hand.
You struggle against it for a few moments, trying to overcome its hold on your wrist. Slowly, you make progress. Despite its utterly inhuman strength, you are stronger. You're the spawn of Dracula. You're stronger than almost everything. Nevertheless, it's a struggle for you to slowly pull away from its grasp...
Until you hear the crack. A horrible popping sound from the creature's body. It only takes a moment for you to realize what the sound means. An instant later, it realizes too, its legs driving into the concrete beneath it. Its spine has fully reattached. It throws its weight forward, forcing you both off of the ground and to your feet, before reaching toward you with its jaws. You pull backward and they snap closed mere centimeters from your neck. With it so overextended, you see your opportunity.
You slam your skull down onto the back of its own. You feel cracks form along its skull and for a split-second the fight goes out of the creature and its grip loosens on you. That's more than enough time for you to slam your foot into its chest, booting it through the air away from you. Miraculously, it manages to realign itself in midair and land almost perfectly on its feet. By the time it hits the ground, it appears its skull is already fully intact. What is this thing? Are you fighting a demon?
Your scowl of confusion and determination suddenly shifts into a grin.
Maybe it fucking is a demon. But will that stop you? Will it even slow you down?
Fuck no it won't. You are Count Zelemir, Undying Knight of Wallachia. No demon scares you, no mumbling undead gives you pause. If Satan himself rose from the Inferno to challenge you and threaten your dominion, you would send him right back down with a few mortal wounds for his trouble. So does this thing scare you? Does this "super-zombie" pose a threat?
Not in this century.
[] Attack! Strike at it like an animal, aiming to sever limbs or destroy its head. Even if it can somehow survive its brain being destroyed, beheading it would if nothing else incapacitate it long enough for you to determine a more permanent solution.
[] Defend. Keep it at a distance and make sure it can't get a grip on you again. Wait for a clear opening to attack its head, and when the time comes- don't miss.
[] Establish a more balanced plan of attack. Play conservatively and take opportunities to strike when you get them, but don't devote yourself to one gameplan or another. Stay fluid and flexible. Like this thing's blood and bones, respectively.
[] Use a more esoteric strategy.
- [] Use something nearby as a weapon.
-- [] What? A car door, a car, a stop sign used as an axe to behead it from a safe distance?
- You're more agile than it is. Lure it back up to the rooftops and use your superior mobility to keep yourself safe as you bat it away. You see no reason to fight on its terms.
- Aim for the limbs! It can regrow them quickly, but you doubt it can do it faster than you can shatter them or tear them off. While its helpless, it'll be at your mercy.
- Actually, it might be smart to target the heart, not the head. This thing doesn't follow the same rules as other zombies, so what's to say the brain is its weakness? It seems more similar to a vampire, so attempt to kill it like you would a vampire, not a zombie.
[] Write in...
DMUA
Z I P P E R M A N
- Location
- San Diego
[X] Let's treat this thing with the respect it demands. Let's fight smart, and make sure to keep mind of how it moves and what it intends with those motions, so we can prevent such intent, and not get bitten again.
-[X] Make mental notes to jot down later so your comrades and self know what to do when another one of these things shows up. It's new, it's dangerous, and information negates both of those.
--[X] Whenever you make successful prediction with it off balance, go for the head. It obviously has good regeneration, but, nothing beats a headshot.
-[X] Make mental notes to jot down later so your comrades and self know what to do when another one of these things shows up. It's new, it's dangerous, and information negates both of those.
--[X] Whenever you make successful prediction with it off balance, go for the head. It obviously has good regeneration, but, nothing beats a headshot.
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DMUA
Z I P P E R M A N
- Location
- San Diego
Also, something else to note
This means there are definitely super powered ones out there, which is probably what ripped up James.
So we need to take great care in keeping our food and friends unharmed. In fact, if it's possible, we should get bodies for autopsy reports. There's a ton of mystery to what sent the world to Armageddon, and we need to start getting stuff uncovered.
This means there are definitely super powered ones out there, which is probably what ripped up James.
So we need to take great care in keeping our food and friends unharmed. In fact, if it's possible, we should get bodies for autopsy reports. There's a ton of mystery to what sent the world to Armageddon, and we need to start getting stuff uncovered.
Chapter 18.01: In which a decision is made
TheNine
I’ll compromise with the skeletons
- Location
- The good ol' US of A
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I've decided that from this point forward I'm going to attempt to release shorter chapters more often. Having read over the story as it's existed so far, it seems to me that people frankly don't have enough to vote on thanks to my attempts at keeping the chapters over 1 K words. I want Zel's actions to be largely determined by the voters, and as is they're very largely not. If anyone objects to this, let me know, but as of this moment, that's my plan.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Use a more esoteric strategy.
-[X] Actually, it might be smart to target the heart, not the head. This thing doesn't follow the same rules as other zombies, so what's to say the brain is its weakness? It seems more similar to a vampire, so attempt to kill it like you would a vampire, not a zombie.
-[X] Actually, it might be smart to target the heart, not the head. This thing doesn't follow the same rules as other zombies, so what's to say the brain is its weakness? It seems more similar to a vampire, so attempt to kill it like you would a vampire, not a zombie.
Crawkid
Lover of quests and community
- Location
- holed up in my room
Id say don't even worry yourself about word count. the word count you been using has been fine. I couldn't think of any choices you could have brought up before the one that you did. Give us story and development, and pop up the vote when a good decision pops up
