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Post by Alissa Greenburg on Apr 25, 2010 22:53:49 GMT -5
Alissa turned too look at the new guy, grinning when she saw his weapon.
"Nice choice in zombie hunting tool, where'd you get it?"
She hefted her M1 on her shoulder as she spoke, turning to face the new survivor.
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Post by Patrick Schrader on Apr 25, 2010 22:56:50 GMT -5
Patrick saw group of survivors and met up with them. He was glad that he wasn't the only alive, or well, human. Although they were strangers, he still mustered a friendly Texan greeting.
"Howdy, y'all," he greeted as he tipped his brown cowboy hat, "I'm glad to see that there are other survivors. The name is Patrick Schrader."
He then turned to Allissa to address her question, "Oh this rifle, this was my grandfather's rifle when he fought during WW2. Still shoots as fine as the day it was tested."
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Post by Alissa Greenburg on Apr 25, 2010 23:03:29 GMT -5
Alissa smiled again.
"What do you say we get inside, I want to set my gear down somewhere."
And with that, she heads inside, shoving the door open and yelling...
"Good morning, Vietnam!"
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Post by Patrick Schrader on Apr 25, 2010 23:06:06 GMT -5
Patrick merely gave a shrug with the responce, "I guess." He followed the female survivor inside.
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Post by Sophia Desmond on Apr 25, 2010 23:09:29 GMT -5
In the cabin, Sophia seems to have taken apart all dozen of the hand crank generators, and were now piecing them together into one, large, efficient device for minimal electricity generation.
"Once I'm done this, I can power... power... A rechargeable battery! Or maybe even a light bulb."
She gleefully went back to her work, parts now strewn about all over the floor within a foot of her. Her Battle-Coat and coke bottle glasses giving a very odd appearance.
As much as she loved what parts she had, she was running out, and made a mental note to go get more junk whenever possible. For now, she was taking a screwdriver to her latest creation.
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Post by Alissa Greenburg on Apr 25, 2010 23:11:24 GMT -5
Alissa set down her pack, and then went to inspect the strange device being built by the even stranger woman. Looking it over until she's told to stop with but one comment on hand...
"What the hell is it?"
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Post by Sophia Desmond on Apr 25, 2010 23:15:22 GMT -5
"A generator," the mechanist quickly responds.
"You see, the hand cranks in the various little devices all use the same material and mechanisms. All I need to do it take them apart, piece together the metals and then add in a single, bigger crank! Soon enough, I'll attach the batteries..."
She continued to mumble to herself, going over her plans in her head, having completely forgotten the stranger that had asked her the question.
She seems very flighty in her attention span, especially when metal and electricity was involved.
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Post by Patrick Schrader on Apr 25, 2010 23:25:01 GMT -5
Patrick caught on to Sophia's blabble and found it interesting. Although while he couldn't understand everything she said, he still kept a quiet mouth and listened. When it came to socializing, Patrick was always the listener, and not the speaker. He prefered to hear what his comrades were saying, as suppose to speaking over them.
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Post by Alissa Greenburg on Apr 25, 2010 23:26:50 GMT -5
Alissa returns to the window and pulls out a pair of WWII artillery spotters binoculars. She adjusts her equally old helmet, and sets about scanning the wilderness for the undead.
"Weird how quiet it's been, isn't it?"
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Post by Patrick Schrader on Apr 25, 2010 23:36:48 GMT -5
Patrick took note of Alissa's comment, faced towards her and replied, "I know. I've been traveling all through these woods to lose those zombies. I'm guessing there's more food for them in the city than suppose out here."
Still, Patrick was unsure about that comment. Even though he might of "lost" them, those things were like stubborn hunters, especially those hooded ones. It'll be a matter of time before those creatures would catch up and jinx their chances of survivial
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Post by Moro Ashford on Apr 26, 2010 16:18:47 GMT -5
"Good morning, Vietnam!"
A loud, unfamiliar voice broke the melancholy quiet, drawing Moro's attention away from both her despair at her condition as well as her surprise at Shane's grace; stepping past him, she trailed out into the center room, in time to see the entry of three new people; one man carrying a very impressive gun, a woman similarly armed, and a second woman that looked, for all describable purposes, to fit the "mad scientist" stereotype. Painfully aware of being unarmed, Moro paused in the doorway, eying them all warily.
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Post by Patrick Schrader on Apr 26, 2010 16:46:43 GMT -5
Patrick realized that there was another woman in the cabin. She seemed cautious; for having two armed people and an unstable scientist in the same room while a zombie apocalypse was happening before their eyes, Patrick would understand. Taking note, he raised his arms up, as a sign of peace, and said, "Don't worry, miss. We're on the same side. We're not going to hurt you."
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Post by Shane Richardson on Apr 26, 2010 17:21:50 GMT -5
Shane stared up earnestly at Moro. He bowed, resembling a gentleman to a lady. And that was exactly what Moro was. She was the lady and he, the gentleman. All of sudden Moro brushed past him and he let out a frustrated sigh. Did she want him to look at her wounds?
“Moro, wait!” Shane cried as he followed her. Not paying the three newcomers the slightest of interest, he grabbed the young woman’s hand and walked back into the bathroom. He then glared at her, but the teasing in his light brown eyes made it known that he was joking. “As your doctor, I cannot allow you to leave the room until I am done treating you.”
The teen reached for a towel from the rack and rinsed it in the faucet. “Of course I wouldn’t tell anybody about this.” he reassured as he walked back to her and began thoroughly cleaning Moro’s arm of dirt and dried blood. “It’s nobody’s damn business, and although I found out when true, it wasn’t any of my business, I was simply wondering if you were okay.”
Shane then grabbed another towel and dried the wet skin. Wondering if Roy kept any anti-infectant cream, he began skimming around the bathroom until he found what he wanted with an ‘Ah-ha.’ He turned back to Moro with a childish grin on his face.
“Treating these wounds it simple,” Shane explained. “You just have to keep them clean and then rub this anti-infectant on it.” He squeezed a reasonable amount on his palm and used a finger to smear the medicine on the scratches in a gentle circling motion. “Like how I’m doing it. When that’s done, you wrap it with gauze, but not too tight. Believe it or not, but even the littlest of scratches need some oxygen to heal.” he added with a chuckle.
Once he was done treating her, he grabbed her hand once more and led her into the living room. This time he faced the newcomers with eyebrows furrowed and a not-so happy look on his face. These ‘newcomers’ happened to be two young woman and a young man.
“I think I speak for everyone here when I say I’m fucking tired of all these new people joining our group,” he growled as he shed his wet shirt. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and go make your own survivor group? Three should be enough to fight these mealy-mouthed bastards.”
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Post by Sophia Desmond on Apr 26, 2010 17:35:01 GMT -5
She continued to tinker away on the floor, chuckling softly to herself. She started to crank the new device she made and it came to life. However, since she hadn't installed the intended batteries yet, the electricity generated jumped from the end of the device to a piece of metal on the floor, causing it to burn the floor slightly.
"Right, enough to power a light-bulb, but not much more." She said as she adjusted her glasses and set the device down before reaching for the batteries.
She heard someone speak to her left, and without even looking, responded to the very rude man, "I'm just here for the night. If you, by majority vote, don't want me here, I'll leave. But alas, if I do, you shall miss the company of the knife-coat lady."
She cackled slightly, arching her back as she did so, causing the countless knives she wore to clink together.
"I just want some time to experiment and finish my temporary generator."
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Post by Alissa Greenburg on Apr 26, 2010 19:38:20 GMT -5
“Why don’t you do us all a favor and go make your own survivor group? Three should be enough to fight these mealy-mouthed bastards.”
Alissa shrugs, setting down her binoculars and turning about to face the newly arrived pair; she adjusts her WWII era infantry helmet.
"Personally, I liked the greeting outside the door better. Much warmer reception."
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