Topic: The apocalypse is neigh, will you rise to the challenge?

[Merdoroli]

In humanities darkest hour it's greatest heroes shall arise. Such has always been true of humanity. The more opposition we face the greater we become. Our own minds work like evolution, except sped up, allowing us to learn and adapt to our ever changing surroundings. Every time we're faced with a problem they find a way not only around it, but to change so that it will happen more or less. No less was true when the world ended... or nearly did. In order to survive a few lucky among us evolved, and now they lead us to the future, where ever that may be.

It started with one virus, that morphed to create the first zombies. Not dumb zombies or slow shambling things. Ones smart enough to only eat animals, not other humans, they only bite humans, so their numbers expand faster. Ones who know how to use a boat and cross an ocean. Zombies faster and stronger than many mere humans. Seemingly the ultimate enemy, but it was only the beginning...

Okay, now that I've got your attention, let me abuse it for a second by explainin' some of the more boring bits. First off I am looking for a group, 4 or 5, maybe even more if enough people want to join and have interesting characters. The idea here is to think of X-men-like proportions for your characters.

If you don't know your X-men, here's the wiki. http://x-men.wikia.com/wiki/X-Men_Wiki

When I get my character finished and post him you can use him as an example. Think higher-tier X-men as well, someone able to take out entire groups of zombies. So while kitty is cool with her phase shifting and she can take out a few people with a bit of trickery, she'd never be able to take on a group of 5 or 6 zombies. She might be able to avoid them and run off but not take them down. It's a perfectly fine and acceptable power but just get something to go with it, I'd suggest some sort of attack, get creative!

I do have to say that Wolverine is out, he's nearly invincible and his built in claws make for basically no weaknesses. He could take out thousands, if not all the zombies in the world, by himself. The Phoenix is also out, as is the Scarlet Which and other characters like that with seemingly no weaknesses. I'm not entirely against regeneration or telepathy or what have you, just don't make it where a hundred of these things don't even phase you.

If I haven't been picky enough yet I'm about to be. I'd prefer the powers had something to do with what happened to you when the bombs dropped. It's only for lore purposes really, if the thought is that when a nuke hit your city you spontaneously evolved then it only makes since you'd evolve in a way that made since with what you were doing. If a wall starts falling on you then you might learn some super strength to hold it up. Or if your in a zoo you might learn to morph into an animal to avoid getting eaten. I will be a bit forgiving here, if you can't think of why you'd randomly gain such and such power than that's okay.

The characters don't necessarily need to start in the same city but the plan will be to meet up eventually so let's try to stick to one continent, North America. If you have some power that will let you easily get to North America from someplace else then you can start someplace else, but just plan on going their eventually.

I think that's it, if you have any questions, feel free to ask. Now, back to the lore.


Although no one knows exactly where it started many think the virus started somewhere in Switzerland. It quickly spread through Europe, with no country able to raise a solid defense quick enough to stop the disease from spreading. The Middle East fell soon after, their inability to band together causing their downfall. At that point the United States, Canada, Mexico, and a few central American countries came together to jointly close off their borders entirely. Any planes attempting to land within any of the countries were shot on site. As were ships and anyone on foot as well. China, India, and many other Asian countries, including Taiwan, Tibet, North and South Korea, and Mongolia, also came together to form a solid line of troops along the borders of the newly formed alliance against the zombies.

The zombies next moved to Africa where multiple holy wars had broken out because the apocalypse has come they said. They were devoured by the horde slowly, but surely, before the hordes massed to attack Russia. Russia's massive border was nearly impossible to defend, and they knew it, as such they stationed troops around every major population center and left the rest of the frozen tundra to the zombies. They held out a few days, but the zombies were many and the Russians were not. Eventually they lost to the tide but, as their last act of desperate hope, they nuked their own cities, denying the zombies food and more members for their army.

The new Asian Empire was next, and they were prepared, every entry by land was blocked, and they held out for just over a month before the zombies grew smarter and attacked in mass by sea. Thousands of ships flooded the Asian lines and it was the end of the war for them. With Asia gone they had billions among their ranks and it was then the U.S.A. started nuking the zombies. It was a drastic measure but no one knew any other way to survive. The zombies quickly covered the ocean to find that even in their amazing numbers they couldn't get past the United State's navy. They did make it to South America though, and they soon fell. The U.S. stationed the majority of it's land forces directly on the panama canal border next in hopes that they could stop the there. And they did. But the northern border was harder to defend, and although it fell slower than the rest of the world, the U.S. did fall.

Following Russia's example, the U.S. nuked their own population centers. No one really knows for sure why, maybe just to spite the zombies, or maybe because they have a secret reserve of troops still holding out someplace.

[Merdoroli]

Character name: Nathan Feredac
Age: 29
Sex: Male
Looks (Can be described by text or picture): http://www.myviewsandreviews.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/Nick-Lachey.jpg
Powers (Be general here, go into more detail when you describe why (s)he has the power): Teleportation and Katana mastery. Proficient with the majority of pistols, and the bow.

If necessary add weaknesses category to the character post, mine are the obvious human ones so there's no need.

Nathan had been practicing with his modest armory and stockpiling ammo since the day he'd heard of the outbreak. He'd practiced with his pistol the most but he'd also needed a refresher course with his katana and bow, it'd been a long time since his training. He was practicing with the katana in fact when the nukes hit. Tallahassee, Florida, where Nathan lived, had been one of the many targets for the nukes. he lived on the outside edges of the city, enough so to avoid the main blast, but the shock wave sent his wall coming at him and hundred of miles an hours. He had one second of perfect clarity that can only be brought on by life-or-death adrenaline before he braced and closed his eyes. He waited a second, waiting for his own death, but to his surprise he felt nothing. he slowly opened his eyes to find he wasn't in his garage anymore. His katana had come with him and his clothes, but nothing else was in the field with him. It seemed to be a hey or corn field with how high it was growing and off in the distance Nathan could see the mushroom cloud of the nuke that had hit new york.

 "What the hell?!" He exclaimed, looking around, bewildered by the sudden random change of surroundings. He studdered at a loss for word for a few seconds before deciding he had to bring himself together, ignore what had just happened, and get a move on. He started walking until he spied the road. "Okay, just gotta get to the road and then..." He stopped in mid sentence, he had just appeared on the road. He turned and looked back at where he'd come from, there were no portals and upon taking a step back that way he didn't teleport back. He had just thought of him being at the road and he'd been there. Nathan turned, looking down the road, and tried thinking of himself there and, suddenly, found he was. Nathan looked back at where he'd come again, just to make sure it wasn't a dream, "Whoa..... I'm a ****ing comic book character!" He teleported a few more times, surprised by how easy and fun it was before realizing that a nuke had just hit Tallahassee and he was teleporting around a random field when he should be trying to survive the coming zombies. With that thought he shook his head and planned his course. He thought he'd travel away from the highly populated coast to the center of the U.S. and then maybe go north to hide.


P.S.: Your character don't need to go the same direction as mine but the RP will be much less boring when our characters start meeting up so maybe your intro post/bio can end with you seeing a Katana-wielding man teleporting down the road? Up to you

[Slywyn]

Character name: Johnathan Showalter.
Age: 20
Sex: Male
Looks: Right aroud six foot tall, he has sandy blonde hair. He has no set eye color, it changes randomly, the reasons why are a mystery to him. Of moderate build, not a stick, and yet not quite to the point of chubby. His hair's a constant mess.
Powers: Shape-shifting into any animal he's ever come into personal contact with.

He was hanging out in his room with his cats when the nuke hit the Greater New Orleans area. His house was blown off it's foundations, and he was knocked out by a piece of flying debris. He woke up an hour later, resting under a wall, his legs pinned by a support beam. Crying out in pain, he tried to shove the beam off his legs, but it was wedged, not to mention much heavier than anything he could lift on his own. Just then, one of his many cats took that moment to appear, licking his hand. As soon as the thought was made, he felt his weight and structure start to shift, albeit quite painfully. Before he knew it, he was the same size, shape, and colors as his cat. Confused and startled, the cat fled. John, frightened, and in pain, took off as well, his mind a mess after everything that happened. Not knowing what direction, and not recognizing his surroundings after the blast, he wandered, slowly heading north, still the same shape.

[FlirtyFox]

Name: Shawn Redmon
Age: 24
Sex: Male
Looks: (Couldn't find a decent picture so I'll have to describe him) white, mildly
stocky but not overly buff (in shape) black 'bed head' hair that goes down to his upper back (bed head refers to top that looks rather spiky and a little messy but in a purposeful, styled way).  No facial hair except a black chin strip/soul patch  Wears a black jacket that looks a little biker styled (small spikes on the shoulders, loose fitting, a few buckles here and there, inner pockets and decent sized outer ones).  Faded, worn blue jeans, boot cut.  Black fingerless gloves.  Black chucks
(converse sneakers).  Wallet with a billfold chain that connects to a pant loop
on the front.  Blue eyes, clear complexion aside from a few scars.


Shawn was in the outer blast radius of one of the nuclear blast in Massachusetts, he had been working at a metal factory when an explosion rocked the plant, knocking things over and blasting the area with radiation fallout.  Not knowing what was going on the workers were dismissed by the plant operator, and they rushed home, as Shawn was heading to his bike outside he started getting dizzy.  He leaned against the wall of the building to try and shake it off but it soon grew worse.  Without warning he passed out, falling limp to the concrete where he layed for several hours.  Upon walking he stumbled towards the road, groggy and slightly delusional, as he crossed into the street and truck flies over the hill, bearing down straight on him.  The driver has no time to stop, and Shawn can only had enough time to instictively put his arms up before it struck him.  In a kind of sureal, adrenalin filled haze he recalled he didn't feel any pain as the truck smashed into him, sending him hurtling through the air, and smashing into a tree, breaking the trunk in 2.  As he slowly got up, shaken but unharmed he looked in horror at his hands and arms, seemingly covered with a shiny, silver metal.  Upon feeling and looking over the rest of his body he found that this was covering all of it.  Upon walking over to the driver of the truck and pulling his unconsious, but relatively unharmed form from the totalled wreckage he wandered back to his bike by the plant, and drove off.
After stopping on a unfrequently used piece of road he got off to check himself, but found his skin looking normal again.  With patience and practice he slowly started to figure out how to somewhat control the ability, but it was most effective when he was suprised or in sudden danger.

[Idle]

Character Name: Vince Ritefield
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Looks: Vince wears a navy blue t-shirt over a black long sleeved undershirt with a pair of dark, slightly fading jeans. The jeans somewhat cover the green and black hiking boots he wears pretty much all of the time. Around his neck he wears a plain silver chain and around his wrist is a hiking watch made for durability through all sorts of abuse. His hair is brown and barely touches his shoulders with shaggy layers, looking as if it were in dire need of a trimming. Vince's build is that of a physically active human male that spends 3 hours a day working out and his eyes are a dark, forest green.

Powers: His ability is Telekinesis and he is proficient with pretty well any type of shotgun handed to him and hand-to-hand combat.

Vince had never been one who paid much attention to politics. He felt that living in the middle of the woods on the outskirts of Albany, Georgia would bring little to no importance to his area. Still, he made sure to stay physically fit and sharp with a shotgun in case something were to happen. When the nuke hit, Vince was taking a shower after getting home from work. It'd been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to wash away the days stress and worries and sit down to read the rest of his book.

The place seemed to be hit by a tremendous boulder. The chimney fell in, crushing the left side of his house, his living room. Vince fell against the shower wall, bouncing off and his head struck the shower-head. His body fell limply into the tub with the water raining down on him. It was maybe five or ten minutes before he was brought back to a conscious state, disoriented from the surprise. He tried his best to collect himself and find his clothes. Luckily he had clean clothes sitting on the toilet lid. After he got dressed, he instantly made his way out into the destroyed living room, rendered speechless after seeing the destruction that was done to it.

A rage mixed with fear hit him as he looked around trying to find the thing responsible for the attack, but to no avail. Vince rushed to his bedroom, pulling out his Remington and heading out of the house. His first instinct upon reaching the door was to check on his truck, which he saw all of the tires were flat. He was mystified as to what could have happened. Was it a terrorist attack? A gas explosion? His forest green eyes searched the area, instantly going out to inspect the woods for anymore clues. After an hour of searching, the only thing he could find was that all of the animals had fled the area, probably moving deeper into the woods. There were some trees blown over, some the roots were completely pulled out of the ground.

By the time he reached his house his mind was much more clear and he directed himself to pack some essentials and head into town to see what was going on there. He was half an hour into his travel to town when something could be heard ahead. It was a motor, the person must have been putting the pedal to the metal because the engine was roaring. He stayed on the opposite side of what the truck should have been driving on. It was then that the truck came around the corner and it was heading straight for him. His quick thinking told him that the hill next to him would prevent him from running away from the line of fire. As his only defense he tried running from the truck in the opposite direction he was walking before, his mind strongly wishing the truck would put itself in a different direction.

Suddenly, there were screeching tires and the motor seemed to be facing a different direction. He looked back in time to see the truck heading for the railing, it had made so sharp of a turn to the right that it was impossible for such a big truck to make and he was instantly dumbfounded. The truck then was stopped with a loud bang by the railing and he could see something fly forward in the cab along with the airbag being ejected. His eyes were wide as he just stood there, staring at the wreck. What happened? He wondered to himself. He then noticed blood splashed against the drivers side window and rushed forward to open the door and help. As his hand reached out to get the door, maybe a foot from the door's handle, it suddenly flew open, the door meeting against his fingertips and crushing against them.

Vince yelled out in pain, but miraculously he didn't hear a snap from any of them. "The hell?" He asked no one in particular and noticed a coin on the ground not too far from where he was standing and he decided to act on what he thought might be happening. With his good hand outstretched, he willed the coin to be placed there. A moment later, the coin was speeding toward him...and at his head. He made a quick movement to jump out of the way of the oncoming coin watched as it disappeared somewhere in the grass next to the road. His face was twisted in an unreadable expression as he continued on to help the person inside the vehicle.

[Starlequin]

Character name: Trent Barnett
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Looks: 6'2, 230lbs, dark brown eyes, long brown hair, short-trimmed beard, powerfully muscled limbs but a slight paunch, deeply tanned, ruddy complexion, intricate "bushido" tattoo running down his left arm, "dark" and "light" tattooed on right and left knuckles, always wears a silver ring with a black raven etched into the center on his right middle finger
Dress: Thick, ragged, stonewashed jeans, an old pair of running shoes, simple Hanes hi cut socks, a thin black t shirt, a studded leather jacket and a pair of dark, wrap around sunglasses, which he is never without
Powers: Manipulation of physical objects and mental states through soundwaves, an expert marksman with long rifles, fairly skilled in hand to hand and knife fighting

Trent didn't pay much attention to news reports of the outbreak, or of it's impending sweep through the world's defenses. He never saw much point in it, since he lived in a tiny little nowhere Mississippi town and figured if anything major went down, it'd either never affect him, or it'd wipe him out in one shot. Trent was always like that; he never worried about anything because he figured everything would always work itself out, and no need for him to get involved. His parents didn't hold much stock in his outlook, but they'd thrown him out soon as he was legal anyway, so their opinion didn't exactly faze him none.

About the only thing Trent truly loved in life was his guitar; it wouldn't be a stretch to say it was his only real friend in the world. Every day after finishing a shift at the trailer plant, or running odd jobs for the widow McCleary down the road, he'd sit in his rundown little first floor apartment on the north outskirts and stare out the window, playing his guitar. At first the landlord and some of the tenants complained, but after just a few evenings his playing convinced them to let him be. Trent's fingers could fly over the strings of his beat up Les Paul, bought for $150 in a pawn shop a couple towns over. He plucked and picked, coaxing music from his instrument more beautiful, more evocative, than anything most folk had ever heard, or could ever hope to. Sometimes his impromptu evening concerts could last for hours, and more than a few nights saw crowds gathering outside his apartment, listening to the sweet strains of melody that poured from his fingertips.

That was about the scene the night the nukes went off. Trent was sitting by the window, playing passionately, when he glanced up and noticed the mushroom cloud out Jackson way. Far enough out the shockwave was still visible, but it was comin' in fast. There was an onrushing flash of light, and just enough time to lift his guitar to cover his face, shielding his eyes. Then, he knew no more.

When he came to, Trent found himself pinned under a heavy pile of rubble and debris. Miraculously, he discovered he still held his guitar in a white knuckle grip, and his right hand was still close enough to the strings to strum a few chords. But the rubble was getting heavy, and air was becoming a precious commodity. He couldn't gulp down enough air to fill his lungs for anything more than a weak cough, but he couldn't just lay down and die. Who'd take care of his guitar?

As his vision started to dim, he plucked at the strings and sounded a soft "A". Then, a bit louder, shifted into an "A major". At first, the only thing Trent noticed was that with every note, he could breathe a little easier. But finally it dawned on him, almost halfway through a composition he'd never heard before and was playing entirely on instinct, that the rubble was floating above his head like a cloud of sheetrock and steel. The rhythm increased, the melody crescendoed, and Trent felt a burst of energy rocket through him as he hit the final power chord and the rubble was blasted into the stratosphere. He watched its launch, slack-jawed, the old LP quivering in his hands, then climbed to his feet.

He stumbled out of the smoking ruin of his apartment, listened for the cry of survivors and heard only the evening breeze blowing through the dead, still night. Trent strapped his guitar around his back, took one look at the waxing starlight, and on a whim made for the highway.

What the hell.

North sounded alright.