[X] 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.
Bite (In Which An Unfortunate Vampire Has An Unfortunate Time)
[X] 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.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
[x] Use a more esoteric strategy.
- [x] Use something nearby as a weapon.
-- [x] Anything that can sever a head from the shoulders without having to come too closely to that thing. A stop sign would do.
-[x] 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.
It's not all magic. Even if it's regenerating, the body mass have to come from something. If we dismantle enough of it, it'll either use up the reserves of whatever keeps it running, or thins out to a more manageable size.
- [x] Use something nearby as a weapon.
-- [x] Anything that can sever a head from the shoulders without having to come too closely to that thing. A stop sign would do.
-[x] 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.
It's not all magic. Even if it's regenerating, the body mass have to come from something. If we dismantle enough of it, it'll either use up the reserves of whatever keeps it running, or thins out to a more manageable size.
[x] Use a more esoteric strategy.
- [x] Use something nearby as a weapon.
-- [x] Anything that can sever a head from the shoulders without having to come too closely to that thing. A stop sign would do.
-[x] 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.
Good one
- [x] Use something nearby as a weapon.
-- [x] Anything that can sever a head from the shoulders without having to come too closely to that thing. A stop sign would do.
-[x] 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.
Good one
DMUA
Z I P P E R M A N
- Location
- San Diego
... Who says?
These Zombies sure aren't realistic with how they act (IE, despite having vital functions compromised, they still walk around with absolutely no issue), and this world is pretty mystical, so I don't think this is actually a biological Zombie sort of ordeal.
I mean, I sure can't think of anything on earth that would let a decaying corpse be able to keep up with a Vampire. So, I don't think it's quite safe to go with the standard assumption for this stuff.
Chapter 19: In which it becomes evident that a threat was exaggerated
TheNine
I’ll compromise with the skeletons
- Location
- The good ol' US of A
- Pronouns
- He/Him
You grin, lunging forward at it at the same moment it lunges at you. You sidestep its charge, knowing it can't correct its path in time to counter such a movement. To your very light consternation, it proves very nearly capable of doing so, pivoting on one heel to face you. To your relief, it loses balance and slides backward as it does so, collapsing onto its back and only righting itself a split-second later. By the time it does so, you've reached your actual objective- a nearby stop sign. You twist it free of its base and tear it from the ground, brandishing the sign of safety and caution as a weapon. The irony makes you almost giddy.
Or maybe its just the vampire-adrenaline doing that. You are enjoying yourself a bit more than you should. Combat really does seem to be a kind of high.
The creature leaps at you, hurtling through the air. You're ready for it and swing your makeshift weapon, aiming for its legs. You connect almost perfectly, slamming into its knee. It hits the ground skidding, that leg nearly completely severed by your blow. There's little doubt that the super-zombie will quickly regrow, but you don't intend on giving it the chance. Ignoring its own safety (or any form of common sense,) it continues on the offensive, pushing itself toward you with its one good leg. You hope to quickly take even that from it and charge to meet it, swinging your (now significantly dulled) weapon again, this time aiming for its other leg.
To your (now only marginal) surprise, it manages to jump over your swing, avoiding it, before swinging one hand at your face. Again, it seems to be using its fists to strike rather than its fingers to rake. Odd, but you suppose this creature's entire existence is rather odd, so what can you say? You duck mostly out of the way of the wild haymaker- and almost immediately regret it. Its punch only catches the very tip of your jaw, which makes the impact all the more agonizing. You feel your neck twist horribly off to the side, your spine cracking under the pressure. The muscles of your cheek are stretched unbearably far, and only then do they tear. By the time you've been spun entirely backwards by the force of the blow, your jaw had very nearly been punched completely off of your skull.
You dive (your) forwards, moving away from the creature. You use your free hand to crack your jaw back into place, and you feel your cheek almost immediately begin to mend itself. Your neck feels like shit, but the damage was minor enough that its regeneration proved nearly instantaneous. Before the creature can catch back up with you, you suddenly turn on your heel, swinging your stop sign weapon at it once again. This time, you connect, completely severing its good foot at the ankle. It drops like a sack of potatoes.
A sack of potatoes currently inhabited by a family of angry badgers, but a sack of potatoes nevertheless.
It forces its fingers into the concrete and uses that grip as a handhold to launch itself at your ankle. You stride quickly forward and leap over it before it can connect, before turning and swinging your weapon at its damaged knee. This time, you successfully chop it completely off. You note that the sign has been damaged enough that it's nearly in the shape of a right angle, but it's still better than nothing. You wipe the super-zombie's bright, crimson blood from the stop sign and step forward to strike at it again.
Before you have the opportunity, though, the creature has rolled over and hurled crushed concrete (gravel, now?) into your face and eyes.
It does not have the effect that the creature clearly intended. Sure, the multiple puncture wounds in your irises has blinded you, but you do not recoil. Perhaps you would have earlier tonight, fighting Ali, but not now. Now, your blood boils with the burning fury of combat.
Perhaps you cannot see the creature, but you do not need to. You have a dozen other senses to find it. Hearing its flailing, you slam the sign back into it. Feeling the purchase of flesh, you know your aim is true. You strike once more, then twice, then realize that your weapon has been bent to the point of being ineffectual. You leap backward, quickly clearing one eye of the rubble that was thrown into it. You'll clean the other in a moment, for now you only need one. Your vision is blurry for about a second before the irises clear themselves. By that time, you see that the creature is reattaching its severed foot. Like you, it seems, it has an easier time reattaching limbs than regrowing them.
You swiftly unbend your sign, and without the risk of getting close to the creature for now, you throw it.
And immediately realize you're an idiot. One of your eyes is still blinded, and you lack any depth perception. You miss the super-zombie by several meters. You swiftly clear your other eye and charge into melee range. You are cautious, but not as you were before. Before, you still held some modicum of fear in your heart for this unknown creature. Now, you do not. You merely know it as a very slight threat, worthy of a moment's calculation.
The creature has roughly reattached its foot by the time you reach it, but you know that won't help. One of its arms is grossly overextended thanks to its attempts to reach its severed leg. You grab that arm by the wrist and twist. With a wonderfully satisfying sound like that of splintering wood, its forearm is twisted impossibly far and shatters in a dozen places at once. You place your heel on the center of said forearm and shove downward, retaining your grip on its wrist. With the equally satisfying sound of... tearing flesh, you feel it go. Sinew, bone, tissue, muscle, tendons, and skin all give way at once, leaving half of the creature's forearm in your hands. You hurl the severed portion through the air.
You have little doubt that it won't land in this state.
Without hesitation, you move on to its recently-repaired and now-flailing leg. You lift your own foot and slam it down onto the leg's knee, smashing the bone- and all of the vital nerves nearby it- into an awful off-red paste. You have absolutely no trouble gripping its recently-reattached foot and using it as a handhold to tear this leg free at once. It, too, you throw kilometers away. It has one good arm left, and you offer this one a similar treatment to the last- albeit at the shoulder rather than the elbow, and at the bicep rather than the forearm.
In just these few seconds, this thing has been...
Disarmed.
And dislegged, for that matter. Dislimbed, one might say. It's left an impotently raging torso and head, vigorously shaking and twisting and compressing every muscle it has left to try to attack you. You glance at the ruined flesh and bone of its stumps and see its muscle slowly growing, creeping along what's left of its bones. Those, too, are regrowing at a visible pace, marrow-first. You stomp each stump once more for good measure, before finally moving on to its skull.
You place one foot on its forehead, before using your other to punt off its lower jaw, ensuring that it can't bite you. Then, you stomp. One directly to its forehead leaves it writhing. Another leaves it twitching. Another and it's... still twitching. Just for good measure, you stomp on its neck, slowly dislocating anything left of its brain from its spine. Eventually, the awful mush that once was its head has been completely and utterly severed from its body. Its body still continues quietly and pathetically writing for a few minutes, but its regeneration has stopped, and finally its movement does as well, utterly ceasing. You chuckle to yourself. You overestimated the creature. It was strong, of course, faster than you expected. But in the end, it was barely a threat.
At least, only one of it was barely a threat.
You turn away, disrespecting what remains of its remains by leaving them vaguely in the street, and move onto searching again for that firearms depot.
Never once does anything peculiar about its violently-dissected corpse occur to you. Frankly, the blood-high is rather distracting.
It takes you no longer than thirty minutes to find a store identical to what James described. It was a "Guns store," proudly labeled from every conceivable direction. Its entrance was even (once) lit up with long-extinguished neon lighting. You step inside, only vaguely disappointed and not at all surprised to realize that the front window had been shattered and the place completely raided.
Two human corpses rest inside the store, each in early stages of decomposition. One lies behind the storefront, another just inside the shattered window. The one behind the counter was shot once, between the eyes. The other appeared to have been blasted in the chest by some sort of heavy shotgun weapon.
A picture, as one says, tells a thousand words. If that's true, then a corpse must tell twenty thousand.
You vaguely muse on just how many words you must have then read in your life, before cutting off that meaningless train of thought. Instead, you scour the place for weapons. There aren't many left after the raiding, but you find a few. Two abandoned double-barreled shotguns, vintage. Several semi-automatic rifles for hunting, of which you take three. One heavier shotgun, obviously intended for bigger or longer-range game. And, finally, a very high-caliber handgun that you're almost certain Alice is going to masturbate with when you get home.
Ammunition is more plentiful. You find it both in handily-labeled packages and spilled all over the ground. You collect several plastic bags and pile all of the ammunition you can get into them. By the time you're done, it's not the weight of the ammo and guns you're carrying that proves an issue for you, it's the simple unwieldiness of carrying them all at once. Conveniently, you find some sort of rucksack with shoulder-straps that seems specifically made for carrying such things near the back of the store, and it makes it much easier for you to leave the store with the thousands of rounds of ammunition you're carrying. It seems they don't sell any fully automatic weapons.
Wait, are those illegal in general? How in Hell did Alice get hers then?
You don't muse on this for long as you leave the store. You only have one more thought before you leave. You take the brief opportunity to check out nearby storefronts- and you see just two that catch your attention.
"Billy Bob Jeremy's Hardware" and "In n' Out Discount Tobacco and Beer."
Both of them pique your interest. You're immune to the effects of alcohol, but you know the group isn't- and you also know they don't have any in the hospital, at least not any fit for drinking. Perhaps a few cases of beer and bottles of liquor could raise worriedly low spirits. And then, of course, there's the hardware store. You can't carry much more right now, but you could certainly grab a few boards, nails, and a hammer or two.
Both, unfortunately, isn't an option with what you're already carrying.
[] Business
[] Pleasure
[] Write in...
Or maybe its just the vampire-adrenaline doing that. You are enjoying yourself a bit more than you should. Combat really does seem to be a kind of high.
The creature leaps at you, hurtling through the air. You're ready for it and swing your makeshift weapon, aiming for its legs. You connect almost perfectly, slamming into its knee. It hits the ground skidding, that leg nearly completely severed by your blow. There's little doubt that the super-zombie will quickly regrow, but you don't intend on giving it the chance. Ignoring its own safety (or any form of common sense,) it continues on the offensive, pushing itself toward you with its one good leg. You hope to quickly take even that from it and charge to meet it, swinging your (now significantly dulled) weapon again, this time aiming for its other leg.
To your (now only marginal) surprise, it manages to jump over your swing, avoiding it, before swinging one hand at your face. Again, it seems to be using its fists to strike rather than its fingers to rake. Odd, but you suppose this creature's entire existence is rather odd, so what can you say? You duck mostly out of the way of the wild haymaker- and almost immediately regret it. Its punch only catches the very tip of your jaw, which makes the impact all the more agonizing. You feel your neck twist horribly off to the side, your spine cracking under the pressure. The muscles of your cheek are stretched unbearably far, and only then do they tear. By the time you've been spun entirely backwards by the force of the blow, your jaw had very nearly been punched completely off of your skull.
You dive (your) forwards, moving away from the creature. You use your free hand to crack your jaw back into place, and you feel your cheek almost immediately begin to mend itself. Your neck feels like shit, but the damage was minor enough that its regeneration proved nearly instantaneous. Before the creature can catch back up with you, you suddenly turn on your heel, swinging your stop sign weapon at it once again. This time, you connect, completely severing its good foot at the ankle. It drops like a sack of potatoes.
A sack of potatoes currently inhabited by a family of angry badgers, but a sack of potatoes nevertheless.
It forces its fingers into the concrete and uses that grip as a handhold to launch itself at your ankle. You stride quickly forward and leap over it before it can connect, before turning and swinging your weapon at its damaged knee. This time, you successfully chop it completely off. You note that the sign has been damaged enough that it's nearly in the shape of a right angle, but it's still better than nothing. You wipe the super-zombie's bright, crimson blood from the stop sign and step forward to strike at it again.
Before you have the opportunity, though, the creature has rolled over and hurled crushed concrete (gravel, now?) into your face and eyes.
It does not have the effect that the creature clearly intended. Sure, the multiple puncture wounds in your irises has blinded you, but you do not recoil. Perhaps you would have earlier tonight, fighting Ali, but not now. Now, your blood boils with the burning fury of combat.
Perhaps you cannot see the creature, but you do not need to. You have a dozen other senses to find it. Hearing its flailing, you slam the sign back into it. Feeling the purchase of flesh, you know your aim is true. You strike once more, then twice, then realize that your weapon has been bent to the point of being ineffectual. You leap backward, quickly clearing one eye of the rubble that was thrown into it. You'll clean the other in a moment, for now you only need one. Your vision is blurry for about a second before the irises clear themselves. By that time, you see that the creature is reattaching its severed foot. Like you, it seems, it has an easier time reattaching limbs than regrowing them.
You swiftly unbend your sign, and without the risk of getting close to the creature for now, you throw it.
And immediately realize you're an idiot. One of your eyes is still blinded, and you lack any depth perception. You miss the super-zombie by several meters. You swiftly clear your other eye and charge into melee range. You are cautious, but not as you were before. Before, you still held some modicum of fear in your heart for this unknown creature. Now, you do not. You merely know it as a very slight threat, worthy of a moment's calculation.
The creature has roughly reattached its foot by the time you reach it, but you know that won't help. One of its arms is grossly overextended thanks to its attempts to reach its severed leg. You grab that arm by the wrist and twist. With a wonderfully satisfying sound like that of splintering wood, its forearm is twisted impossibly far and shatters in a dozen places at once. You place your heel on the center of said forearm and shove downward, retaining your grip on its wrist. With the equally satisfying sound of... tearing flesh, you feel it go. Sinew, bone, tissue, muscle, tendons, and skin all give way at once, leaving half of the creature's forearm in your hands. You hurl the severed portion through the air.
You have little doubt that it won't land in this state.
Without hesitation, you move on to its recently-repaired and now-flailing leg. You lift your own foot and slam it down onto the leg's knee, smashing the bone- and all of the vital nerves nearby it- into an awful off-red paste. You have absolutely no trouble gripping its recently-reattached foot and using it as a handhold to tear this leg free at once. It, too, you throw kilometers away. It has one good arm left, and you offer this one a similar treatment to the last- albeit at the shoulder rather than the elbow, and at the bicep rather than the forearm.
In just these few seconds, this thing has been...
Disarmed.
And dislegged, for that matter. Dislimbed, one might say. It's left an impotently raging torso and head, vigorously shaking and twisting and compressing every muscle it has left to try to attack you. You glance at the ruined flesh and bone of its stumps and see its muscle slowly growing, creeping along what's left of its bones. Those, too, are regrowing at a visible pace, marrow-first. You stomp each stump once more for good measure, before finally moving on to its skull.
You place one foot on its forehead, before using your other to punt off its lower jaw, ensuring that it can't bite you. Then, you stomp. One directly to its forehead leaves it writhing. Another leaves it twitching. Another and it's... still twitching. Just for good measure, you stomp on its neck, slowly dislocating anything left of its brain from its spine. Eventually, the awful mush that once was its head has been completely and utterly severed from its body. Its body still continues quietly and pathetically writing for a few minutes, but its regeneration has stopped, and finally its movement does as well, utterly ceasing. You chuckle to yourself. You overestimated the creature. It was strong, of course, faster than you expected. But in the end, it was barely a threat.
At least, only one of it was barely a threat.
You turn away, disrespecting what remains of its remains by leaving them vaguely in the street, and move onto searching again for that firearms depot.
Never once does anything peculiar about its violently-dissected corpse occur to you. Frankly, the blood-high is rather distracting.
It takes you no longer than thirty minutes to find a store identical to what James described. It was a "Guns store," proudly labeled from every conceivable direction. Its entrance was even (once) lit up with long-extinguished neon lighting. You step inside, only vaguely disappointed and not at all surprised to realize that the front window had been shattered and the place completely raided.
Two human corpses rest inside the store, each in early stages of decomposition. One lies behind the storefront, another just inside the shattered window. The one behind the counter was shot once, between the eyes. The other appeared to have been blasted in the chest by some sort of heavy shotgun weapon.
A picture, as one says, tells a thousand words. If that's true, then a corpse must tell twenty thousand.
You vaguely muse on just how many words you must have then read in your life, before cutting off that meaningless train of thought. Instead, you scour the place for weapons. There aren't many left after the raiding, but you find a few. Two abandoned double-barreled shotguns, vintage. Several semi-automatic rifles for hunting, of which you take three. One heavier shotgun, obviously intended for bigger or longer-range game. And, finally, a very high-caliber handgun that you're almost certain Alice is going to masturbate with when you get home.
Ammunition is more plentiful. You find it both in handily-labeled packages and spilled all over the ground. You collect several plastic bags and pile all of the ammunition you can get into them. By the time you're done, it's not the weight of the ammo and guns you're carrying that proves an issue for you, it's the simple unwieldiness of carrying them all at once. Conveniently, you find some sort of rucksack with shoulder-straps that seems specifically made for carrying such things near the back of the store, and it makes it much easier for you to leave the store with the thousands of rounds of ammunition you're carrying. It seems they don't sell any fully automatic weapons.
Wait, are those illegal in general? How in Hell did Alice get hers then?
You don't muse on this for long as you leave the store. You only have one more thought before you leave. You take the brief opportunity to check out nearby storefronts- and you see just two that catch your attention.
"Billy Bob Jeremy's Hardware" and "In n' Out Discount Tobacco and Beer."
Both of them pique your interest. You're immune to the effects of alcohol, but you know the group isn't- and you also know they don't have any in the hospital, at least not any fit for drinking. Perhaps a few cases of beer and bottles of liquor could raise worriedly low spirits. And then, of course, there's the hardware store. You can't carry much more right now, but you could certainly grab a few boards, nails, and a hammer or two.
Both, unfortunately, isn't an option with what you're already carrying.
[] Business
[] Pleasure
[] Write in...
- Location
- Somewhere in the area
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
[X] Pleasure
If we're going to grab the construction supplies when we can carry a lot of it, anything we could grab now wouldn't be substantial.
If we're going to grab the construction supplies when we can carry a lot of it, anything we could grab now wouldn't be substantial.
- Location
- New York
Ummm, is this alright? The story so far, seems to hint how there are now super "super" zombies. Things that can fight a vampire mono to mono. How would any kind of human survive against these things. At this point, I think BITE might actually be right. Without supernatural protection, the humans are going to die like flies.
- Location
- PA
[X] Pleasure
Okay so listen-I dunno if fortifying is a wise move here.
See, the problem is BITE is a thing. And WHEN they arrive we'll have to negotiate for keeping our humans, if not seperate and 'ours' only, to fufill our Oath. Easier said then done if we're a single hard-point.
But if we can run and hide and pop up later or double back? Then it becomes a matter of keeping track of us/ finding us again after we vanish. Muuuuch more difficult for them to hit that point, given their own need to protect humans of their own that might very well make for excellent feeding oppertunities...
I'd like to also see about getting in on the ground floor of BITE myself, especially as Hunters are probably still a thing and might very well think we're behind this given a world full of 'ghouls' (my guess to what these things ACTUALLY are.) works out so much better for Vampires, what with the zombies making the martial power of Vampires muuuch more valuable.
Okay so listen-I dunno if fortifying is a wise move here.
See, the problem is BITE is a thing. And WHEN they arrive we'll have to negotiate for keeping our humans, if not seperate and 'ours' only, to fufill our Oath. Easier said then done if we're a single hard-point.
But if we can run and hide and pop up later or double back? Then it becomes a matter of keeping track of us/ finding us again after we vanish. Muuuuch more difficult for them to hit that point, given their own need to protect humans of their own that might very well make for excellent feeding oppertunities...
I'd like to also see about getting in on the ground floor of BITE myself, especially as Hunters are probably still a thing and might very well think we're behind this given a world full of 'ghouls' (my guess to what these things ACTUALLY are.) works out so much better for Vampires, what with the zombies making the martial power of Vampires muuuch more valuable.
- Location
- Manchester, UK
- Pronouns
- He/They
Oh no, he missed the obvious clue... well, we'll have to work out what it means later I guess.
DMUA
Z I P P E R M A N
- Location
- San Diego
[X] Why not a bit of both? Take a six pack or two so people stop feeling like crap and then go and get supplies. If nothing else, said supplies would give us something to do while everyone's tipsy.
-[X] Wait hold on a second was that thing leaking red blood? Okay... We are definitely taking this thing for autopsy if we can. But first, we should check to see how alive it is... Was.
--[X] Let's take a tiny sip. Gross, but necessary to understand what this thing is.
-[X] Wait hold on a second was that thing leaking red blood? Okay... We are definitely taking this thing for autopsy if we can. But first, we should check to see how alive it is... Was.
--[X] Let's take a tiny sip. Gross, but necessary to understand what this thing is.
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AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
[x] Business
New
[X] Business
[X] Business
Chapter 20: In which... wow, Chapter 20??
TheNine
I’ll compromise with the skeletons
- Location
- The good ol' US of A
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Yeah, business is probably the right plan. Since you don't really have room (or the exact technical knowledge) to bring back enough stuff to make a proper hinged door, at the very least you can greatly improve the barricade with a few planks of wood and some nails. You slip inside the hardware store and collect everything you can, but by the time you step out you're definitely out of room. The rucksack on your back is completely full and you're carrying a stack of wood planks in your arms. It would behoove you to get back as quickly as possible to minimize the threat of... complications approaching you as you're outside. Thus, you choose the fastest means of travel you've thus discovered, leaping from rooftop to rooftop like some sort of frenzied American super-hero.
It's while you're doing this that you notice something so utterly confusing that you're forced to suddenly stop and in fact nearly trip, coming a hairsbreadth from hurling your armful of wooden planks across the entire city block. Instead, you drop them directly down before stepping back and looking at yourself.
Your hands, your feet, your shoes and pant legs, they're completely covered in drying blood- red blood! You're desperately confused, so much so that you even go as far as to bite your wrist just to check that you're still bleeding black- obviously, you are. Once an undead, always an undead. And yet your body is covered in red blood from... something. It's even gotten all over your shirt, and though you can't actually see it, you suspect it's on your face and in your hair as well.
The last time you killed something living was the human survivor you drained dry, but you hadn't gotten a drop on you then. What in the world caused this, then? You think back on the things you've killed since then and- sure enough, they're all undead! The only thing out of the ordinary that occurs to you is the so-called "super zombie" you finished off no more than a couple minutes earlier. But hadn't that thing bled black? You try to recall, but your memory isn't perfect. If nothing else, you had a strong impression that the damn thing bled black. You're curious enough that you actually leave the planks upon the roof you're currently on, rushing back to where you fought it earlier.
It doesn't take you long to find the corpse. The massive puddle of red blood that's formed around it makes it particularly easy. You can hardly believe it didn't occur to you earlier. Perhaps it was just the thrill of a good fight that kept it out of your mind, coupled with how used you are to killing things that bleed red. You stroll over to the corpse and sniff at its blood. It's fresh enough that it lacks the distinct scent of death, but there's something... strange to it. An awful sourness that leaves a bad taste in your mouth just smelling it. It's not like the blood of other zombies, or vampires, but it's definitely... not good. Even if the creature weren't dead, you still wouldn't want to try to feed from it.
A quick sniff at the blood on your own body and clothes reveals that it holds the same sour tint. You scowl at the smell. Now that you've noticed it, you can't un-notice it, even among the awful scent of death and rotting flesh that permeates this entire town. Well, you'll clean your body and your clothes when you get back to the hospital. For now, this mystery will... have to remain a mystery.
You are, however, tempted to take a "sample" of this thing. The group at home had already taken samples from several zombies, but hadn't had the chance to examine them. This, too, could prove useful for learning about the creatures. Still, though, you're apprehensive about taking anything that could potentially regenerate in case the creature is still somehow alive, so you carefully avoid its brain and heart. You choose to sever one hand, just above the wrist. Plenty of tissue samples, not too much to carry. Cringing at how hard it'll be to clean, you actually put the hand... in your back pocket.
From there, it's time to relocate the planks you dropped, get home, and wind down. The sunrise won't be for another hour or two, but knowing how "busy" this town has apparently been recently, you determine it'd be wise to avoid any danger of stranding yourself out in the daylight. As you rush back to the hospital, you consider the strangeness of the creature bleeding red.
There was a fact that tended to hold true for almost all beings, be they natural, supernatural, or somewhere in between. The blood of living things was some bright color, usually red, though sometimes green (in the case of certain species of non-mammals, as well as goblins and their kin) or an off-white (such as certain species of fish.) The blood of the undead, on the other hand, was darker. The longer a being had been undead, the thicker and darker their blood would become, until in both visibility and tactility it was near-identical to tar. This applied mostly to vampires who'd been raised from the dead, but in the past had also been noted to apply in the case of soulless ghouls and Scandinavia's so-called Fog Walkers, before the creatures became extinct. It was also the case with creatures resurrected by scientific means, like the legendary creation of Victor Frankenstein. Naturally, up till now that rule of thumb had also applied to these "zombies."
This "super-zombie," though, was different. It certainly looked undead. Its skin was rotting, its hair falling out, but... now that you think about it, it didn't smell undead. Nevertheless, it clearly was at least related to these zombies.
Your first suspicion is that it was a red-blooded vampire. A human turned directly into a vampire without ever having been killed. Its strength was certainly consistent with a redblood's, but that didn't seem right. Not even a redblood could regenerate as quickly as that creature did, and if it was merely a vampire, why did it appear so relatively mindless? How was it killed by the destruction of its brain, without the need to destroy its heart or use anti-vampire weapons? And why did its blood smell inedible?
There didn't seem to be much point to musing on these questions. There wasn't any way you could answer them without further information, and so you decided to keep it out of your mind at least for the time being.
Besides- you've just arrived home.
As you step inside, the place seems eerily quiet. You take a sniff of the air and activate your bloodsense, quickly determining that everyone who should be here is. They're merely all asleep. Well, that leaves you with a few options.
[] Wake someone up.
- [] Who?
- [] To what end?
[] Get to work on the barricade right away. This'll be pretty loud, and might wake some or all of the group.
[] Get undressed, wash your clothes, and shower. You've waited already, you'll start to stink. Besides, that way you won't have to explain the red blood.
[] Write in...
It's while you're doing this that you notice something so utterly confusing that you're forced to suddenly stop and in fact nearly trip, coming a hairsbreadth from hurling your armful of wooden planks across the entire city block. Instead, you drop them directly down before stepping back and looking at yourself.
Your hands, your feet, your shoes and pant legs, they're completely covered in drying blood- red blood! You're desperately confused, so much so that you even go as far as to bite your wrist just to check that you're still bleeding black- obviously, you are. Once an undead, always an undead. And yet your body is covered in red blood from... something. It's even gotten all over your shirt, and though you can't actually see it, you suspect it's on your face and in your hair as well.
The last time you killed something living was the human survivor you drained dry, but you hadn't gotten a drop on you then. What in the world caused this, then? You think back on the things you've killed since then and- sure enough, they're all undead! The only thing out of the ordinary that occurs to you is the so-called "super zombie" you finished off no more than a couple minutes earlier. But hadn't that thing bled black? You try to recall, but your memory isn't perfect. If nothing else, you had a strong impression that the damn thing bled black. You're curious enough that you actually leave the planks upon the roof you're currently on, rushing back to where you fought it earlier.
It doesn't take you long to find the corpse. The massive puddle of red blood that's formed around it makes it particularly easy. You can hardly believe it didn't occur to you earlier. Perhaps it was just the thrill of a good fight that kept it out of your mind, coupled with how used you are to killing things that bleed red. You stroll over to the corpse and sniff at its blood. It's fresh enough that it lacks the distinct scent of death, but there's something... strange to it. An awful sourness that leaves a bad taste in your mouth just smelling it. It's not like the blood of other zombies, or vampires, but it's definitely... not good. Even if the creature weren't dead, you still wouldn't want to try to feed from it.
A quick sniff at the blood on your own body and clothes reveals that it holds the same sour tint. You scowl at the smell. Now that you've noticed it, you can't un-notice it, even among the awful scent of death and rotting flesh that permeates this entire town. Well, you'll clean your body and your clothes when you get back to the hospital. For now, this mystery will... have to remain a mystery.
You are, however, tempted to take a "sample" of this thing. The group at home had already taken samples from several zombies, but hadn't had the chance to examine them. This, too, could prove useful for learning about the creatures. Still, though, you're apprehensive about taking anything that could potentially regenerate in case the creature is still somehow alive, so you carefully avoid its brain and heart. You choose to sever one hand, just above the wrist. Plenty of tissue samples, not too much to carry. Cringing at how hard it'll be to clean, you actually put the hand... in your back pocket.
From there, it's time to relocate the planks you dropped, get home, and wind down. The sunrise won't be for another hour or two, but knowing how "busy" this town has apparently been recently, you determine it'd be wise to avoid any danger of stranding yourself out in the daylight. As you rush back to the hospital, you consider the strangeness of the creature bleeding red.
There was a fact that tended to hold true for almost all beings, be they natural, supernatural, or somewhere in between. The blood of living things was some bright color, usually red, though sometimes green (in the case of certain species of non-mammals, as well as goblins and their kin) or an off-white (such as certain species of fish.) The blood of the undead, on the other hand, was darker. The longer a being had been undead, the thicker and darker their blood would become, until in both visibility and tactility it was near-identical to tar. This applied mostly to vampires who'd been raised from the dead, but in the past had also been noted to apply in the case of soulless ghouls and Scandinavia's so-called Fog Walkers, before the creatures became extinct. It was also the case with creatures resurrected by scientific means, like the legendary creation of Victor Frankenstein. Naturally, up till now that rule of thumb had also applied to these "zombies."
This "super-zombie," though, was different. It certainly looked undead. Its skin was rotting, its hair falling out, but... now that you think about it, it didn't smell undead. Nevertheless, it clearly was at least related to these zombies.
Your first suspicion is that it was a red-blooded vampire. A human turned directly into a vampire without ever having been killed. Its strength was certainly consistent with a redblood's, but that didn't seem right. Not even a redblood could regenerate as quickly as that creature did, and if it was merely a vampire, why did it appear so relatively mindless? How was it killed by the destruction of its brain, without the need to destroy its heart or use anti-vampire weapons? And why did its blood smell inedible?
There didn't seem to be much point to musing on these questions. There wasn't any way you could answer them without further information, and so you decided to keep it out of your mind at least for the time being.
Besides- you've just arrived home.
As you step inside, the place seems eerily quiet. You take a sniff of the air and activate your bloodsense, quickly determining that everyone who should be here is. They're merely all asleep. Well, that leaves you with a few options.
[] Wake someone up.
- [] Who?
- [] To what end?
[] Get to work on the barricade right away. This'll be pretty loud, and might wake some or all of the group.
[] Get undressed, wash your clothes, and shower. You've waited already, you'll start to stink. Besides, that way you won't have to explain the red blood.
[] Write in...
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Get undressed, wash your clothes, and shower. You've waited already, you'll start to stink. Besides, that way you won't have to explain the red blood.
I'd rather avoid any shocked accusations that we attacked a group of survivors to feed. Everyone knows we're a vampire and need to feed, but we no doubt look like we just slaughtered an entire family. Once we're all clean and presentable, we can calmly explain this "super zombie" and show them the red-blooded hand.
I'd rather avoid any shocked accusations that we attacked a group of survivors to feed. Everyone knows we're a vampire and need to feed, but we no doubt look like we just slaughtered an entire family. Once we're all clean and presentable, we can calmly explain this "super zombie" and show them the red-blooded hand.
- Location
- Brazil
[X] Get undressed, wash your clothes, and shower. You've waited already, you'll start to stink. Besides, that way you won't have to explain the red blood.
[X] Get undressed, wash your clothes, and shower. You've waited already, you'll start to stink. Besides, that way you won't have to explain the red blood.
- Location
- Australia
[X] Get undressed, wash your clothes, and shower. You've waited already, you'll start to stink. Besides, that way you won't have to explain the red blood.