OOC: Whoa, I just nearly tried to kill a 15 year old. Just like real life then.
Hey Galt, do you recon you could post a kill list just to smooth over arguements?

PurpleRain:
OOC: Whoa, I just nearly tried to kill a 15 year old. Just like real life then.
Hey Galt, do you recon you could post a kill list just to smooth over arguements?

Hey, you know, if you want to kill me, kill me. Don't not lynch me 'cos of my character's age. On the other hand...

Johnny had turned his back on the group well before Al had started trying in vain to pin the blame on him. Johnny looked into the sky shaking his head slightly, Clouds were forming over them and smoke was still rising from the now well burnt out and guttered bus, they should of left hours ago.

Johnny turned to a group of mutinous faces, their eyes either fearful or vengeful, Johnny had been down this road before, after he was accused of someone's death that had left an innocent man shunned from the group in order to fend for himself. Johnny shouldered his pack as Laura cried that the group was moving down the highway.

"so what, You think I would lead you into the desert to kill you all? To achieve what?! What the hell would I gain from all of this?! You tell me that?!" Johnny snarled, his eyes darting from each person to the next, "Look, contrary to what you all think and feel, I would not of killed gremlin, he was possibly the closest I have ever gotten to someone for a long time, and that connection was just ripped away when he died. So don't you run around telling me that it's my damn fault." Johnny said, this time getting quieter, the very air seemed to be still and even as a whisper his voice carried.
"Look, think about it logically, the hegmon patrol the highway, as we have already seen," Johnny said nodding his head towards the barricade, " And the infected are more then likely drawn to this fact, how many people would you expect to find in a desert wandering around aimlessly? Less then ten? if that? I'm pretty sure I have the only compass and the skills to navigate the surrounding terrain." Johnny explained in a quick voice, still eying the group surrounding him in a half circle.

"Look the way I see it is that we, yes we, can take our chances with the highway patrols of the hegmon and the possability of infected, OR you can trust me and we can go my way... but then again..." Johnny said turning to the packs his eyes flicking over the supplies, " ...if anything were to happen to our supplies we would be in more trouble then if we lost our supplies on the road... but still... I don't know..." Johnny said, trailing off slightly.

"I know that you all want to kill me, or at least BLAME me for the killing, but i'm not so stupid to realise we need to move or we will ALL die..." Johnny said as he was sure he could make out objects moving on the horizon, the flaming bus had drawn something towards them and whatever it was, it probably wanted to hurt them in some way...

Turning to laura, "You said you want to go along the highway, correct? Well, now is the time to make a choice... Pick a direction now."

"I think it should be a vote. Between all of us. So that if we go the wrong way, then there's no-one to blame, 'cept ourselves. I'm fine either way."

So, either highway or desert. Take your pick

Johnny looked at stompy, "Not to sound like a ponce, but we don't really have time for a vote, while we're standing around picking our noses and pointing guns," Johnny gave a quick look to Al, someone Johnny was beginning to like less and less," We could end up finding ourselves shot full of bullets or mauled by some infected. But you know, take your time, maybe I can make some new friends, seeing as you all hate me..." Johnny said, his voice as sarcastic as possible.

Occ- I pick the highway as it will be more eventful then a desert full of nothing.

"Well, it's a long walk," said she, "we can all make accusations and" (glancing at Johnny) "get on my nerves while we're moving away from the smoking beacon." She adjusted the straps on her backpack, picked up some things and started walking southwest. She looked over her shoulder flirtatiously at the group, "You coming?"

"I don't really have a choice do I? If I don't you'll just shoot me, and if I do... You'll just shoot me... Don't you love post apocalyptic politics?" Johnny replied sarcastically, walking slowly after her his hands shaking slightly at his own morbid humor.

"Ah the joys of this post apocalyptic wasteland."

Rain began to sing.

"I would walk 500miles and I would walk 500 more..."

OOC- Hey Purps, wouldn't it be easier to just edit the profiles so everyone who dies has there names crossed out on page 3? And Killion is 19... Four years difference isn't much, how old are your characters? I choose the highway, and if I wasn't so lazy, my character would be making some sort of crack about how long it's been since he'd had a hot shower, while glancing at Stompy suspiciously every now and then.

Edit: This didn't warrant a place in a later post, so I'll put it here. I know you're not a mod Purps, I was just trying to improve on your suggestion.

"If we're going to do the logical thing, then the highway's likely the thing. I highly doubt that there might be another Hegemon checkpoint. Besides," Al explained, "Zombies are morons. They wouldn't 'hang out' around the highway unless there was a semi-consistant stream of food or noise coming from it."

Al then smiled. "I suppose that makes Laura the leader then."

Putting on sunglasses, Laura smirked. "Not a leader, just impatient." She thought it was very cool. "So Al, tell us about your trek from Manhattan. Did you have to walk much?"

OOC: I can remove the conversation starter if people want to focus on lynching.

Al sighed as he began his story. "I'm not going to bore you with useless trivia, so here's the short version- after I got the hell outta Manhattan, I managed to drive all the way to... I think it was the Iowa-Nebraska border before I ran out of spare things of gas. After that, I had to huff it all the way to Calgary Mall- just me, my rifle, and what I could carry on my back. During that little escapade, I learned a lot of stuff- the limits of zombie intelligence, the best ways to kill said zombies, how people reacted to the infestation, how people dealt with it... I nearly got killed crossing into Colorado by a group of people who were going mad."

He hefted up his stuffs, all of which were organized in a fashion to limit interference with long-term hiking. "Let's get moving- we're burning daylight."

"Right then. I 'spose it's settled; we're taking the highway." Stompy said in a mildly cheerful tone, happy to be leaving. He went over to the pile of bags containing supplies, and started handing them out to people.

"Let's get going. Lead on Laura."

Johnny glanced at Al.
"What makes you think that there would just so happen to be a single blockade? Not likely to say the least and if I am right about the blockades, then wouldn't the infected be drawn to the noise and the fact that the hegmon are food?" Johnny asked, his eyes blank and unreadable.

Johnny didn't stop walking down the lonely road, The amount of cars thinned out to a trickle on the side of the road, the highway was clear of any vehicles, Johnny was sure they were walking towards the hegmon.

"That's kind of strange, why are there almost no cars on the road, it's as if it's almost been cleared by someone...?" Johnny said out loud to no one in particular.

"You know, Johnny's right... Keep your guard up." Stompy yelled out, keeping his eyes opened for any sudden movement. "I'd like to stay away from danger, ya'know. Just this once" Stompy muttered to himself, bemused that they always faced danger.

Easykill:
OOC- Hey Purps, wouldn't it be easier to just edit the profiles so everyone who dies has there names crossed out on page 3? And Killion is 19... Four years difference isn't much, how old are your characters? I choose the highway, and if I wasn't so lazy, my character would be making some sort of crack about how long it's been since he'd had a hot shower, while glancing at Stompy suspiciously every now and then.

OOC: I'm not a mod... yet. Give it time and I can edit other people's posts. As for my character, I'm imagining him to be in his mid 20's. Had a soon-to-be-wife that's now become zombie chow and has tried to tune out to the world as much as he can while still trying to be as peaceful as he can be. I don't lynch I just won't help people while they are.

"Well, I'm just guessing Johnny. But for the dead to be attracted there would have to be a consistent amount of noise and a consistent number of people for the zombies to notice. And while there probably aren't any more, there may be a few zombies left, I'll admit."

"It's not like we aren't armed and experienced enough to handle a few. I can't imagine there being many, at least until we get to town. It's desert on either side here."

EDIT: Should we ignore the 'time' and 'hours it takes to get places' and say we get into St. George an hour before sunset?

Yeh, I think we are as well.

"Are we gonna set up camp tonight, or are we gonna keep walking for a bit longer?" Stompy asked. While he knew they needed some rest, he also wanted to get as far away from the convoy ASAP.

OOC: Can I join? :3

ur a little late port.. you shoulda tried about 1050 posts ago ahahah

Suddenly,

OOC: Well if Anarchemitis says so, I've gotta do something.

Conversations rose and fell as the survivors walked along the highway. The sun was beginning to set as they neared St. George, and the western horizon seemed to bleed orange light across their footsteps; contrasting the sagebrush and casting shadows, a silky black gown for a cactus. And all around them the canyons were being transformed into scarlet behemoths, hides of stone that twisted and meandered, providing a glowing red backdrop for the civilization before them. Everything seemed flat, except for a white church whose steeple looked to have been burnt away in the chaos of infection. As the group walked closer they started to see bodies. Then, in an instant, the smell hit them. Laura wrapped a scarf over her mouth and nose and continued walking.

"Nothing's moving" she whispered to herself. And then she saw. All the bodies had a hole in their foreheads. "Seems like someone came through here and cleansed the town. None of these people are getting up again as far as I can tell," she told the group. She peered at a nearby corpse whose eyes had been left open. "Oh my god," she breathed, "he wasn't even infected." She put her hand to her beating heart and backed away, unable to break eye contact.

She bumped into Al. "Careful" he said, steadying her.

"They're all... they've all been..." she stuttered, looking at him plaintively. She sighed and stood on her own. "It appears safe. We should pick out a place to rest."

"Might've been some religious crazies," Al remarked solemnly as he dug out some nose plugs. "They might've thought that this was Armageddon or something... would've mistaken them for sinners or demons or the like." He looked at the church. "I'm a little hesitant to rest in the church, but it would protect us from the elements."

If I could just get a quick list of who everyone is voting for I'd appreciate it, trying to gauge it from the posts is a bit difficult. Don't bother explaining it right now, I can work that into the lynch. Y'all just got to pick one and toss 'em out.

Dead List: Killed in game or by lack of posts

Galt
Patrick Brown
Sigguard
Andy
Daniel Winters
Bradley Jones
Dane Brown
Gremlin
Tommy O'Reilly
Steve

OOC: Johnny, for reasons I've already gone into on this page. PS, Dane never was 'offically' killed off. Though his lack of posts probably does equal death.

Ok fine.

*Dane woke up in the mall several days later. He looked around and saw that the others had gone on without him. Curiously, he stood up out of his bed and walked towards the stairs. He caught his foot in some zombie piddle and slipped down the stairs. His leg shattered on the impact with the floor. Months later when the Hegemon rolled through Malton, they found a scene of horror. Apparently Dane died fighting off zombies with his own broken bones. I'd be lying if I said he died with dignity.*

OOC: Johnny.

My sniper/ninja/shadow manages to dig his hole, only to find you guys long gone. So, he uses his ninja skills to track you guys down and employs the single leaf camoflauge to great effect. You cannot escape... MY IMAGINARY GUY.

OOC-I love fucking dying.

EDIT: Martyr ftw.

Johnny entered the church, the rest of the group following him a few strides behind. The air was still and everything was thick with dust. The big long stools that were supposed to be in lines were all over the place, some lay broken and shattered against the floor, others were propped against walls, windows and doors. The only thing that was left untouched was the figure of christ, fully intact and smeared with blood. Johnny stepped among the dusty rows, his eyes squinting into the darkness, his breath drawn and forced. The air within the church was stifling, as if he was trying to breath through smoke, his chest felt as if someone was pushing it down, putting pressure on it. Johnny strode through the twisted and broken rows of stools silently, the silence was so thick, he could hear the familiar buzzing noise, the one that you think you can hear, but you're not sure that you're hearing it, or imagining it.

The group spread out, threading their way checking for any signs of danger, as Johnny neared the alter and the figure of the lord, he heard a sound, the only sound within the place, a sound that pierced the silent buzzing noise.

Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip....

Johnny looked over at the stone figure, his eyes calculated and alert. It only took moments to find the cause of the noise, Blood was dripping from the statues crown, the rivulets carved a line down the statues cold, stone, dusty face and every few seconds a drop would form on the chin of the lord and drop into the cold stagnant air and make a sound of a beating drum on the hard wooden floors.

Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip...

Johnny looked at the statue for a few moments more, thinking, calculating. Johnny's eyes followed the woodwork behind the statue, the small wooden boards were bent and worn, the church was old. There were large smudges of blood on the walls, following the smudges he was led to a door, as per usual, Johnny new what ever was behind the door was probably going to try and kill him, he had seen enough horror movies, something always happens to the curious one, the one that wanders off from the group because of his desire to find the truth.

Johnny smiled to himself, it was not every day you could play out a movie in your own life, not a lot of things made him smile these days. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he drew breath, the sound was loud enough to alert some of the others from the group who had begun to sit down on the stools, place their packs on the ground. Turning the knob, the mechanism made a clicking noise and the hinges scrapped and squeaked as it swung slowly forwards, leading Johnny into a small dimly lit corridor that opened into a slightly larger room. It was the confessional, except it would be better placed in a horror movie, the barrier between the priest and the follower had been ripped out, blood was smeared all over the walls, the floor the seat, everything, whatever happened here was violent to say the least. Before the army barracks and the control tower, Johnny would of thrown up, but he had seen things that he couldn't even describe and being around death so often, it sort of grows on you, or you at the very least become used to it.

Johnny closed the door, his hands shaking, but they were constantly shaking these days. Trooping over to a nearby stool, he upended it and sat down his hands searching around in his backpack for something. At first it seemed as if he couldn't find it, his hands pulled out of the bag, bringing a bottle of water and a small leather bound book accompanied by a thin silver pen. First taking a long sip from his bottle, Johnny propped up the book onto the stool before hunching over and beginning to write.

Recollection, Date unknown.

Our small group made it into St. George, our group was cut even thinner as we buried two of our companions on the road after an ambush by the hegmon and one more after one of the more courageous refugee's fell into another hegmon trap, a car bomb. It seems as if we are no longer running from death, but chasing it. Everywhere we go always leads to a death or few, I regret to state I have been shunned by the group and any attempt at contact seems unnatural and edgy. I think they presume me to be a turncoat, a traitor, I plead and plead but to no end. It seems as if without the leadership of galt, we have fallen into a spiral of self destruction and chaos in which we will forever be caught. I feel as if I am a set piece and my turn is up, It would be foolish of me to assume that they think anything else, but alas, I still hold faith in them. We have taken refuge in what seems to be a church, or what was once a church. The presences of death is formidable in here, blood is everywhere and it seems as if the people in this village were eradicated whether they were infected and not. I know this is a constant occurrence, but I feel, as the man before me, that this is my very last entry, I cannot lie to myself, I feel no grief over what is supposedly to be one of my last suppers, it is almost fitting for me to be in a church then, I find it amusing to see myself as a follower of Jesus, a man prosecuted for the sins of others, I understand that, in a morbid kind of way.

Johnny sighed, clamping the book shut with a loud snap and startling at least two of the other people, which brought a smile to his face, being seen as a murderer has it's perks. Johnny laid down with his bag under his head like a lumpy pillow. Turning on his side in an attempt to become more comfortable, his eyes fell onto the depiction of christ. It was kind of ironic that he felt the same way, deep inside himself he knew he was not what everyone thought him to be, the blood that dripped down christ was the blood of others, others that he had died for, to protect them from their sins, but their sins inevitably caught up with them. Johnny felt the same, he felt as if he was being blamed for something that he hadn't done. he was a social outcast and a liar, he was thought of the same way as a monster in a children's book is thought of. Vicious and scary and the child believes that the monster is, until the child grows up and realises that the monster was never a monster and only a shadow, and they understand that shadows are nothing to be afraid of.

Johnny didn't realise he was staring at the statue, memorized by the sound of the blood hitting the floor.

Drip...Drip...Drip...Drip...Drip...

Fun fact: It's a Mormon temple. But nice sentiment anyway.

OOC- Stompy. Stompy Stompy. There, I win. Actually, since it's unfair that Stompy is exempt, why don't you take him out for us so I can vote for someone else? Please?