Post by dreadfire on Nov 29, 2006 8:46:14 GMT
OOC: This is a RP where I am developing my character and chronicling his in game adventures here. Others are welcome to post, but the main plot of the story is based around what I do with him in game.
*******************
Damien awoke in a dark alley in a quiet suburb of Malton, a trickle of blood coming down from his helmet and pooling slightly on the ground where he lay. He didn't remember much, but he knew he had stumbled into the area from the east. As he began to come to his senses, he took a moment to assess his current situation and attempt to regain his bearings.
Suddenly, it all came back to him. Oh God, no!
He drew his sidearm and rose with unstable legs, moving as quickly as he could to return to the area where his team had landed. Hours before they had been dropped in to perform a black bag operation within the city, but disaster struck almost instantly. Within a few minutes he had returned to the LZ, now scattered with the 6 mutilated bodies of his brothers in arms. He raised his weapon and fought back the wave of emotion that had washed over him as he moved about from corpse to corpse, checking in vain for any sign of life.
He remembered it all very clearly now.....
4 hours eariler
As the Blackhawk helicopter prepared for touchdown in a clearing in the middle of the woods, the commander of the small commando unit signaled his men to lock and load while he scanned the ground below for potential threats. Seeing none, he gave to go ahead for the pilot to put the bird on the deck, the second the chopper impacted the ground he dismounted and began securing the LZ. With his M4A1SD at the ready, he covered the remaining squad members as they exited and took up a defensive position until the pilot returned to the skies.
Once the LZ was secure, the team formed ranks and began moving westward towards the outskirts of a nearby Malton suburb. Damien (codenamed "Dreadfire") was took up the point position, his silenced G36C scanning across the clearing as they approached the woods they had landed near.
Alright men, stay sharp. Once we get through these trees we'll be in urban terrain. The commander whispered into his throat mic.
It seemed like mere moments after the team entered the forest that all natural sounds seemed to cease at once. Owls and birds stopped chattering, the wind died down, and the crickets were silenced. Something was about to happen...
Dreadfire rasied his fist in the air, signaling his comrades that contact had been made and they were to prepare to engage. He squinted and strained to see what the dark forms approaching them were, but once he realized they appeared to be human, his finger tensed on the trigger. The squad leader motioned for the unit to break contact and move to the northeast and away from the tangos, but as he rose to move a figure lunged from begind a tree.
Instintively he squeezed the trigger on his M4A1, accidently sending a round into the head of one of his teammates. A cloud of blood and brain filled the air as the lifeless body of the soldier slumped to the ground, the men around him trying vainly to save his life. The commander let loose a painful scream as the figure tore a chunk of flesh from his neck, a jet of blood tarnishing the bark of the tree next to him with a crimson glaze. One of the fellow squad members dispatched the attacker with a well placed 5.56x45mm round into its head, while the others began firing at any target that presented itself.
Much to the shock of the entire unit, the shadowy figures would not go down after scores of ammunition had been fired into their chest and limbs. It was only when the moon broke through the clouds that they saw the true horror of the situation....their foes appeared to be....zombies.
We need to get out of here, NOW! Damien shouted as another one of his brethren was grabbed and mauled by not one, but two zombies. The remaining members began to retreat in any direction they could, for they had unknowingly wasted a large volume of their bullets. They were forced to leave the bodies of the now three dead soldiers, for the advancing hoard was growing in numbers and some of them moved quite swiftly. But perhaps the most frightening element was the moaning....it was a terrifying noise that shook the very souls of the brave men and struck terror into their hearts.
It was then that Damien realized that there was nobody following him, save for his best friend in the unit by the codename of "Reaver". As he shouted for him to hurry up, a zombie speared him into the ground and began trying to bite Dreadfire's neck and smash his head into the ground. Reaver screamed NO! at the top of his lungs as he attempted to fire his rifle at the foe, but the empty magazine rendered the weapon useless...and it had been his last mag at that. He threw down the gun and drew his combat knife, charging towards the zombie that lay on top of Dreadfire and driving the blade into the creature's skull. As he attempted to stand Damien back up, he was promptly gored by the more mobile zombies that had brought up the rear. In a move that he would later regret, he looked at Reaver one last time with tear filled eyes and ran. He knew there was nothing he could do to save his friend, for the advancing swarm of undead were too many and too swift.
These thoughts raced through Dreadfire's mind as he returned to the site of the massacre and stood over the corpses of his comrades. Though he was a strong willed man, he nearly broke down into tears at the horrid sight before him. But nothing could prepare him for what happened next.....
The team members that had been killed by the zombies rose to their feet, their glazed eyes training upon Damien as that haunting moan filled the air once more. Knowing that he would not be able to fend them off since he was reduced to his pistol with limited ammo, he ran once more for cover outside the woods.
It was a mistake to go back.... He scolded himself as the lights of a building pierced the foliage. It would be there that Damien would find temporary refuge, and it was there that the real nightmare inside Malton would begin....
*******************
Damien awoke in a dark alley in a quiet suburb of Malton, a trickle of blood coming down from his helmet and pooling slightly on the ground where he lay. He didn't remember much, but he knew he had stumbled into the area from the east. As he began to come to his senses, he took a moment to assess his current situation and attempt to regain his bearings.
Suddenly, it all came back to him. Oh God, no!
He drew his sidearm and rose with unstable legs, moving as quickly as he could to return to the area where his team had landed. Hours before they had been dropped in to perform a black bag operation within the city, but disaster struck almost instantly. Within a few minutes he had returned to the LZ, now scattered with the 6 mutilated bodies of his brothers in arms. He raised his weapon and fought back the wave of emotion that had washed over him as he moved about from corpse to corpse, checking in vain for any sign of life.
He remembered it all very clearly now.....
4 hours eariler
As the Blackhawk helicopter prepared for touchdown in a clearing in the middle of the woods, the commander of the small commando unit signaled his men to lock and load while he scanned the ground below for potential threats. Seeing none, he gave to go ahead for the pilot to put the bird on the deck, the second the chopper impacted the ground he dismounted and began securing the LZ. With his M4A1SD at the ready, he covered the remaining squad members as they exited and took up a defensive position until the pilot returned to the skies.
Once the LZ was secure, the team formed ranks and began moving westward towards the outskirts of a nearby Malton suburb. Damien (codenamed "Dreadfire") was took up the point position, his silenced G36C scanning across the clearing as they approached the woods they had landed near.
Alright men, stay sharp. Once we get through these trees we'll be in urban terrain. The commander whispered into his throat mic.
It seemed like mere moments after the team entered the forest that all natural sounds seemed to cease at once. Owls and birds stopped chattering, the wind died down, and the crickets were silenced. Something was about to happen...
Dreadfire rasied his fist in the air, signaling his comrades that contact had been made and they were to prepare to engage. He squinted and strained to see what the dark forms approaching them were, but once he realized they appeared to be human, his finger tensed on the trigger. The squad leader motioned for the unit to break contact and move to the northeast and away from the tangos, but as he rose to move a figure lunged from begind a tree.
Instintively he squeezed the trigger on his M4A1, accidently sending a round into the head of one of his teammates. A cloud of blood and brain filled the air as the lifeless body of the soldier slumped to the ground, the men around him trying vainly to save his life. The commander let loose a painful scream as the figure tore a chunk of flesh from his neck, a jet of blood tarnishing the bark of the tree next to him with a crimson glaze. One of the fellow squad members dispatched the attacker with a well placed 5.56x45mm round into its head, while the others began firing at any target that presented itself.
Much to the shock of the entire unit, the shadowy figures would not go down after scores of ammunition had been fired into their chest and limbs. It was only when the moon broke through the clouds that they saw the true horror of the situation....their foes appeared to be....zombies.
We need to get out of here, NOW! Damien shouted as another one of his brethren was grabbed and mauled by not one, but two zombies. The remaining members began to retreat in any direction they could, for they had unknowingly wasted a large volume of their bullets. They were forced to leave the bodies of the now three dead soldiers, for the advancing hoard was growing in numbers and some of them moved quite swiftly. But perhaps the most frightening element was the moaning....it was a terrifying noise that shook the very souls of the brave men and struck terror into their hearts.
It was then that Damien realized that there was nobody following him, save for his best friend in the unit by the codename of "Reaver". As he shouted for him to hurry up, a zombie speared him into the ground and began trying to bite Dreadfire's neck and smash his head into the ground. Reaver screamed NO! at the top of his lungs as he attempted to fire his rifle at the foe, but the empty magazine rendered the weapon useless...and it had been his last mag at that. He threw down the gun and drew his combat knife, charging towards the zombie that lay on top of Dreadfire and driving the blade into the creature's skull. As he attempted to stand Damien back up, he was promptly gored by the more mobile zombies that had brought up the rear. In a move that he would later regret, he looked at Reaver one last time with tear filled eyes and ran. He knew there was nothing he could do to save his friend, for the advancing swarm of undead were too many and too swift.
These thoughts raced through Dreadfire's mind as he returned to the site of the massacre and stood over the corpses of his comrades. Though he was a strong willed man, he nearly broke down into tears at the horrid sight before him. But nothing could prepare him for what happened next.....
The team members that had been killed by the zombies rose to their feet, their glazed eyes training upon Damien as that haunting moan filled the air once more. Knowing that he would not be able to fend them off since he was reduced to his pistol with limited ammo, he ran once more for cover outside the woods.
It was a mistake to go back.... He scolded himself as the lights of a building pierced the foliage. It would be there that Damien would find temporary refuge, and it was there that the real nightmare inside Malton would begin....