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King of kong

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Share some details about your Character(S).

Name: Cian O'Mahony.

Age: 22

Profession:  IDF (Irish-Defence-Force) Soldier. Mechanized Platoon.

POB: Republic of Ireland. Cork City. County Cork.  A.K.A The Rebel County.

Went to ChernaRussia with the Irish/Finish UN contingent. Was stranded in Chernarus after his Helicopter Malfunctioned during the withdrawal.

Alcoholic: No.

Smoker: No.

Languages: German, ChernaRussian, Irish, Polish, Italian, Finnish.

Long Term Goal: Regroup with UN forces and withdraw from Chernarus.

Dislikes: Friggin' Undead Nazi Dinosaurs.

Favourite Weapons: CZ 550, M24, M16A2, AK-47, DB Shotgun, DMR, M14, Remington Shotgun Pump-Action.

Favourite Food: Nothin' like BeanZ N' SardineZ.

Cian watched as 2 figures walked away from the helicopter he had landed in. He had been hiding in the forest all night. The last burning embers from the helicopter provided some light as he watched one of his mates being carried away by an unknown man. not an infected. Definitely a survivor. Could it be one of the CDF? He thought. He finfally decided to gather his courage. Grabbed his pack and rifle and set off down the hillside. 

The man dropped Cian's squadmate and spun around, weapon raised as he heard Cian's footsteps. But he was briefly distracted when Cian's unknown squadmate (Whom the man had been carrying) gave a cry of pain as he hit the ground. Cian used the opportunity and tackled the man to the ground "Who are you?" he snarled. "Not your enemy" said the man in a brisk Chernarussian accent

"You are CDF?" Said Cian. "Da, Motor Rifles".



 

Edited by King of kong
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Name: Hans Eisenhimmel

 

Age: 29

 

Profession: Chenarussian police officer

PoB: Munich

Attacked whilst controlling riot. Rest of squad died, was not liked much for his Brutal tactics, Shot up the police station, most of who inside where not knowing of the outbreak, took the guns and lives alone as a Bandit, is Infamous for his evil. 

Edited by Wolfensteinsaurus

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Name: Samuel 'Big' Dyck

 

Age: 39

 

Profession: Male Prostitute

 

POD: Las Vegas

 

The spreader of the infection. It was from a new STD called "viroculus". He spread it throughout the majority of Vegas, and moved to Russia to escape it. Shortly after injecting heroin into his eyelids, he forgot he was carrying the STD, and had sex with all the occupants of Rogovo. He now seeks shelter in the forest, keeping all fornication to a strict animal only basis, as they seem to be immune.

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Name: Nikolai Sevet

 

Age: 23

Profession: Spetsnaz conscript

PoB: Volgograd

Nikolai and his squad were called to Chernarus to investigate the countries lost of communications. While being transported by helicopter, the pilot suddenly has a heart attack, crash landing the helicopter in Stary Sobor. Only 4 of his squad members and him survived, with 3 weapons and 4 clips of ammo. While going to check on the pilot, his head snaps up, blood on his lips, and his skin pale as snow. The pilot grabs onto Nikolai, but gets subdued by Nikolai and his remaining squad mates. In the ensuing chaos, one of the squad members gets bit in the leg, rendering it useless. After Nikolai shoots the pilot, they leave the bitten squad member with Jorge, a fresh conscript in Spetsnaz, while Nikolai and the other squad mate go to check the town and surrounding towns for medical supplies. After finding some in a house a town over, Nikolai and the last squad member come to a sight of sore eyes. Jorge is facedown, the bitten squadmate tearing at his neck, taking Jorge's head off. Nikolai kicks off the infected soldier, and slams his foot onto it's windpipe, holding it down. He takes his pistol out and empties 2 rounds into the infected's brain, killing him. Now, with only Nikolai, and his last squadmate: Pavel, they embark on a journey meeting friendly survivors and bandits, while trying to get communications working on Green MT. so they can radio in evac, and more soldiers to deal with the outbreak

 

Long read yeah, but I'm procrastinating from doing home work :P

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Name: Jesus (Zeus) Bigsby

 

Occupation: Electrical Engineer

 

POB: Electro General Hospital, Chenarus

 

Story:

   Always been a lightweight, high metabolism individual who worked as an Electrical Engineer up to Day:Z. Once the infection took place the original infection site, a small town on the south shore was quarantined off for a short amount of time until it was overrun. A larger quarantine was placed and as a result conscription was put into effect. Zeus was on the last and final line of the defense, which was the only thing that kept him alive when he decided to cut and run.

   His endurance and stealth are his best attributes that contribute most to his survival. He was never a "scrapper" as they like to call them, just kept to his own and played computer games with his spare time, which had also attributed to his survival, no attachments. He kept alive by sneaking in and out of small towns, cabins and low populated areas where he was unlikely to run into others...alive or dead. Running away was his art, he could quickly gain distance between himself and a mob, quickly disappear around corners and running through houses, closing doors behind him. When he got into fights, he often ran laps to gather all the infected, then put himself into a corner and opened fire, clearing out the area of zombies with few bullets.

   He now lives his life day by day, scavenging for supplies, each day attempting to find a more secure location then the one before. Unfortunately for him, it's never as simple as just that.

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Name: Brian "Poet" Frost

Age: 46

Profession: Private Military Contractor

Hometown/PoB: Warrington, United Kingdom

Story: After serving in the British Armed Forces for several years, he decided to retire from the BAF after Operation Crimson Lance, where almost his entire platoon was decimated. He then joined up with ION Incorporated, formerly Black Element, and was escorting a VIP through Chernarus to Takistan when the infected attacked. Leaving all his supplies behind, he sprinted away from the wreckage, seeing various other people run off as well. He eventually got lost, and arrived at the coast. Not knowing where else to go, he started heading West.

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Name: Dr. Lazlow "Duff" Duffington

Age: 47

Profession:  Ex-field surgeon 1980-84 UK special forces, G.P.

Dismissed for misconduct with musteriously no criminal prosecution, allowed to work as a G.P. to families for over ten years before having his past discovered. Medical license revoked in 1992, whereabouts since are unknown.

 

POB: St. Augustines hospital, London, England.

 

Much controversy peppered Dr.Duffs carreer, having been discharged from the army for questionable treatments in the field. Such cases highlighted were amputations, disappearance of body parts, organs and the mis-prescription of dangerous doses to soliders in the field, resulting in no less than

15 suspiscious cases that were never brought to trial.

Later working as a G.P. to families in the county of Surrey, authorities recieved heinous judgement when his dubious past activities came to light. It is thought Dr.Duff has been responsible for the deaths of no less than 47 patients through such acts as;poisoning, unecessary amputation and youthanistic administration of narcotics.

Edited by Dr.Duff
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Name: lance cawrl

Age: 5

profession: psychopathic serial killer

PoB utah county jail

 

At the age of 4 lance took his fathers hatchet and killed his family.  While inside a psychiatric facility he obtained the owners gun and killed him.  Being in juvee at the time of the outbreak he murders survivors for fun. 

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Name: lance cawrl

Age: 5

profession: psychopathic serial killer

PoB utah county jail

 

At the age of 4 lance took his fathers hatchet and killed his family.  While inside a psychiatric facility he obtained the owners gun and killed him.  Being in juvee at the time of the outbreak he murders survivors for fun. 

No. Just no.

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Brian looked around at his surroundings, remembering those things that had attacked the convoy. They appeared human, but looked to be something else. The way they tore at Daneil's body...like they had an unending hunger for blood and flesh. He shivered, feeling the ocean breeze blow against him. Walking down the coast, he noticed a small industrial port, with more of those people walking around it. Deciding it best to avoid attention, he moved towards the woods. Nearing the road, he noticed a sign, calling the town ЭЛЕКТРОЗАВОДСК. Remembering back to his teachings of Russian for the security company, he could read the first part, Elektro. He must be at Elektrozavodsk. Was some major port city, or major for this small part of the country. Continuing on towards the woods, he crept along, as to not disturb the denizens of the port. Seeing a warehouse, he crept up towards it, walking around a person who was on the ground, eating something. He didn't want to know what. Going inside the warehouse, he saw various construction tools. Picking up a handsaw, he gave it a few swings, and looked around the building. Seeing a cafe, he went inside, and saw a man hitting his hand against a soda machine. 'Even they can't give up their hunger for that which they need to survive; water.' he thought to himself, and snuck up behind the person. He saw the blood dripping from him, the growls coming from him, and decided he would be in a better place if he was dead. Bringing up the saw he picked up, he buried it into the man, blood spattering the soda machine. He watched as the body slumped over, blood making a pool on the floor. He picked up a packed lunch, a bottle of water, and a beer from a locker that was open. Putting them in his backpack that he had been issued back in the United Kingdom, he walked out of the building, saw ready, just in case the people grew wild. He then creeped on, nearing the fence of the port, when he heard a growl. He looked behind him, in time to see a man looking at him, his eyes glowing a strange yellow. The man screamed, alerting the other people around him, and charged at Brian. Scrambling to his feet from his crouching stance, he started sprinting towards the woods, rounding the corner of the fence and jumping into a pine tree. He watched as the people charged out, and began looking for him. Appearing not to have a good sense of anything, they walked around, their eyes wandering. Eventually they gave up, and slowly walked back to the port. Brian let out a breath he didnn't realize he was holding, and sat down against the trunk of the tree. He fell asleep shortly after.

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Lance pulled his ax out of his fathers back and looked around.  This thing is heavy, he thought to himself.  He heard his 2 year old sister crying in her crib, he was bored and wanted to kill but he was hungry.  He opened the cupboards and took a granola bar.  He heard a banging on the door, hahaha forget Anny he thought approaching the door.  He opened it and someone that looked like a grownup was standing there with blood on his face.  Lance swung the ax.  The man dropped to the floor with a moan, Lance severed the head and tried flushing it down the toilet.  The toilet didn't flush.  hmm this was a problem.  He went for a drink and the water didn't work there either.  He left the house and went next door,  everything was boarded up and more people were down the street. None of them were screaming in terror and that surprised him. He shouted and charged hoping for a reaction.  They came at him which shocked the young child and he tripped on his own ax.  With the ax head buried in his stomach he felt the people attacking him hitting and biting.  Everything faded to black and he died.

 

The gillie suited man on the hill watched this chuckling to himself. What a moron haha he thought. Suddenly he felt an ax from behind.

 

TO BE CONTINUED or is it?

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Name: Kyle Mankahon

Age: 21

Nationality: American

Profession: Going to college

Bio: He came from a rough family, where his mom left his dad. His sister and brothers and he is the only one who has never tried any kind of addictive substance. His dad is an alcoholic and beat him. The only one in his family to go to college in four generations, he was attending oxford when he decided to go on vacation to russia. He was sight seeing in cherno when the infection hit. All the boats and planes left, and he is trying to find his way back to america. He only shot guns a couple of times in his life.

 

He was asleep.

At least he was until he heard an almost unhuman scream. 

Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and looked out the window, crouching while doing so of course. He hadn't seen any infected in a while, but he supposed some could have wandered in. A man was running from a couple of infected. He jumped a fence and grabbed the branch of a pine tree, pulling himself up with little difficulty. The man was smart. He had chosen the right tree. This one was easily 60 feet tall, about 20 meters. Any lower the branches would have broken. Any higher and he would have been seen. He was right in a clump of pine branches.

Kyle walked down the steps of the abandoned house he was in. He crept past several infected and when he was far enough away, ran to the fence. The man was asleep. He pulled his extra pistol and two clips and put them next to the man. He also left the man two cans of beans and a water bottle. Then he scribbled a note, and using a stick, pinned it to the ground.

 

Meet me in the lighthouse. Your welcome to come armed.

 

He turned around to see an infected jumping at him. Yelped in surprise, he jumped to the left, whilst the infected landed not two feet from the man. Kyle quickly drove his switchblade into the creatures head, while it was still on the ground.

Then he went to the lighthouse.

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I've never thought of a story for my DayZ character til reading this and I'm not much of a writer but here it goes.

 

Journal Found:

Coordinates 094-114

Some blood on cover, spent cases nearby

Time 0900

 

March 1 (I think)

 

I don't really know what to say, I've never been one to keep a journal. Maybe once or twice when I was a kid after seeing it on TV but never for more than a few days. I figured I may as well start now though, it seems I'll have a lot of free time and need something to keep busy. I was fortunate to find this in a washed up suitcase on the shore. What shore I have no idea, I don't have the slightest idea where I am. I saw a sign briefly when running from those things, whatever the fuck they are, and it looked Russian or something like it. I'm getting ahead of myself though, I guess in a journal I should say who I am in case 

 

March 2

 

Those fucking things again, so fast, I never in my wildest dreams thought this would actually happen but I swear those things are zombies. One snuck up on me last time I tried to write. I don't know how he found me I was in the woods and I checked the area at least 5 times over before I sat down to write. They seem stupid but somehow always migrate towards me, it must be smell nothing else makes sense. I'm hungry and trying to ration what little food I gathered from the wreckage that washed ashore, I'm hoping this takes my mind off food. My name is Andrew Benoit, I'm 23. I'm from the state of Michigan in the United States of America. If anything should happen to me and anyone finds this tell my parents Stephen and Samantha Benoit I love them. At the time of writing this they live at 9135 Gratiot St, Grand Rapids MI, 49504. I can see them now down on the edge of the woods, slowly moving this way. I've moved along the coast what I think is South. There were some large hills right off the coast and I decided it would be best to get higher and away from buildings. Something in their brain seems to still cling to being around buildings, I can't help but wonder if they are staying close to what used to be their homes. I'm not really sure what to do now, I haven't seen anyone who isn't a zombie. I need food and more importantly water, I'm worried about water though, I have no idea what happened to these people and what if it's in the water? It's time to move though they are getting close. Last night the moon was almost full, I'm going to use the full moon tonight to try to sneak in that town down the coast from me. I need supplies.

 

 

I'm actually at work and need to get some work down but it you guys like it so far I can keep bumping this thread periodically with more entries. Obviously a LOT of story details still missing but I know them already. I'm not a writer by any means (you can probably tell) but if you guys enjoy reading it I'll keep going.

Edited by RabidDiabetic

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Lance pulled his ax out of his fathers back and looked around.  This thing is heavy, he thought to himself.  He heard his 2 year old sister crying in her crib, he was bored and wanted to kill but he was hungry.  He opened the cupboards and took a granola bar.  He heard a banging on the door, hahaha forget Anny he thought approaching the door.  He opened it and someone that looked like a grownup was standing there with blood on his face.  Lance swung the ax.  The man dropped to the floor with a moan, Lance severed the head and tried flushing it down the toilet.  The toilet didn't flush.  hmm this was a problem.  He went for a drink and the water didn't work there either.  He left the house and went next door,  everything was boarded up and more people were down the street. None of them were screaming in terror and that surprised him. He shouted and charged hoping for a reaction.  They came at him which shocked the young child and he tripped on his own ax.  With the ax head buried in his stomach he felt the people attacking him hitting and biting.  Everything faded to black and he died.

 

The gillie suited man on the hill watched this chuckling to himself. What a moron haha he thought. Suddenly he felt an ax from behind.

 

TO BE CONTINUED or is it?

You're character sheet hasn't been accepted yet, good sir, so please refrain from posting until it has.

 

Also, when roleplaying, you take the form of YOUR character. Not other people.

Edited by Imafighter

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Tommy had an ax to grind... after killing the sniper who was watching the gory mutilation of the child, he had taken the gear but preferring a weapon with unlimited ammo and high damage he had taken this one.  A survivor had run into a warehouse nearby and he needed the food.  As he crept up to the warehouse he heard twigs snapping behind him.  He turned around just as an infected bit him in the neck taking him down to the dirt road.  Blood spurting out of his neck he screamed looking at his hatchet lying uselessly a few feet away.  The survivor ran out of the warehouse and sprinted off after observing for a few seconds.  As his vision faded  to black he felt for the ax and grabbed it. His only friend.  He shoved the zed off him and swung as hard as he could.  The top half of the zeds head flew into the wall of the warehouse and the rest of the body dropped.  He knew he was immune so he started bandaging himself.  He wrapped the bandage tight, to tight.  As he choked to death he couldn't help but think of what a moron he was.

Edited by creeperbane

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Ok this is for real:

 

Name: Ross Stringer

Age 24

profession: ex-con prison guard

PoB: NYC 

 

After going to jail for a time Ross put his life on track actually obtaining a job for the same prison that had imprisoned him for several years.  Being in a plane evacuating NYC he had been flying over chernarus when engine trouble and lack of fuel sent the plane to the ground.  Being one of 6 survivors the group has been hiding in a small town near the coast collecting what little supplies they have and trying to defend their small base.

 

name: Anatoly (no known last name)

age: 36

profession: Chernarussian farmer

PoB: chernarussia

 

After going to america to follow his dreams he decided to visit his home country for a small time.  His plane crashed in an infected part of Chernarus during the military's defense of Electro as his new friends, other survivors of the crash barricaded a small base the rest of Chernarus fell leaving them helpless and alone.

 

name: Kate Price

age: 21

profession: production manager for a large corporation located in NYC.  Visiting Chernarus to explore options for investment with a scientific lab there.

PoB Kansas city

 

Name: John smith

Age: 27

profession: worker for Raytheon 

 

on a well deserved vacation to the scenic chernarus his plane crashed.  He was an avid hunter skilled with shotguns especially slugs.

 

Name: Nathan Tanner

age: 13

profession: N.A.

 

Son of Mary Tanner, broke his leg in the crash.

 

Name: Mary Tanner

age: 39

profession: Homemaker

 

Nathan's mother and a good teacher.

Edited by creeperbane

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"Grr," Kyle said to himself. It'd been a while since he'd gotten to the lighthouse. And the guy was STILL sleeping at the tree! He was lucky no survivors had come by and no infected gone near him.

And finished of the apple he'd gotten from the edge of the forest. He had determined a good route through the city. It consisted mostly of ally ways and buildings with blocked doors. If he'd been much fatter he wouldn't be able to fit through. He had to send his pack in before him

Suddenly he heard a crunch behind him. His sound trap had worked!

He whipped around, slashing his machete. It connected with flesh and he heard a gasp. A women keeled over. Her stomach was slashed open, and she had a gunshot wound to her left arm. She was holding a revolver it looked like. She he pulled it up and shot at him. He had already ducked for cover and pulled out his own Glock 18. He swung his hand over and fired twice at the woman, first striking her collarbone, then her lower jaw. She fell, and to make sure, he put his machete in her face. Another gunshot from the stairs, and he felt a resounding pain in his side. He dodged to the right, away to from the stairs and lay still.

He heard someone come in. "Mulla! NOO!" Kyle heard someone running towards him. Someones hand picked him up, and he gripped his gun tightly.

He heard a window open. Crap. He's gonna throw me out! He looked towards the tree. The man had woken up! He was reading the note. It would only take him a couple of minutes to get here.

The man thought he had killed Kyle. So he was throwing him out the window.

KYle flailed as he was thrown out. He fired at the man before he even left his arms. A couple shots to the chest does that. His gun fell to safety, but kyle managed to grab the edge of the lighthouse with his fingertips.

He could only hope the man would come and save him.

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I lifted the butt of the rifle to my shoulder and peered through the scope's lens.  The two bandits that had hijacked the traders' car were standing next to it with the hood pried open.  I had fired one of my precious rifle rounds directly into the engine block and it seemed to have hit something.  Kate and john were both behind a small shed near the car with a machete and crowbar respectively.  Ever since the plane crash my small group and I had been staying in this small town scavenging for supplies and hoping for more guns.  Анатолий or as we knew him Anatoly had his revolver and I had my rifle.  Anatoly was creeping up on the car hoping to sneak attack the two bandits.  I put my crosshairs on the closest bandit and gently squeezed the trigger.  A spatter of blood sprayed the windshield and he fell to the ground.  The other bandit dived behind the car almost on top of Anatoly who put 3 rounds in his chest.  I saw blood pooling under the car and after a quick survey pf the area ran down.  I looked at the fallen bandit, noticing a gunshot wound in the chest and head.  But only two,  I looked at Anatoly who was lying on the ground clutching his leg, a makarov lying next to him along with the revolver.  Kate and john came up and helped our Russian friend to his feet.  I grabbed the pistols and checked the bandits.  A Makarov and hunting knife, The car had enough food inside to last us for 2-3 days and I grabbed as much as I could carry.  Back at camp I sent Kate and john to get the last of the supplies and went inside.  Metal pipes reinforced the door and the windows were boarded up.  I dumped the food on the floor in the small kitchen and went into the only bedroom.  Nathan, a thirteen year old kid was laying on the bed a crude splint on his leg.  Him and his mother were the only survivors of the crash that were related.  The plane crash had killed all but six of the 103 passengers, the survivors of the crash didn't live here so they had no immunity to the virus and getting bitten was doom for them.  Anatoly was the only one who might be immune because he was a native.  I sat on the couch to try to rest for a bit and drifted off.

Edited by creeperbane

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Waking up, I look around me, and notice a pistol on the ground, as well as some basic supplies, and a note. Meet me at the lighthouse. Well, seemed like a lead to seeing what this fucked up outbreak was. Getting up and checking to see if the pistol was loaded, I slid in a magazine, and started walking towards the nearest lighthouse, which was across the town, at Cap Galova. Looking at the town, he made his way into it, checking through a couple of building and finding some more food and drink. Checking the pub, he found a Winchester hunting rifle upstairs, underneath a bed. Attaching a couple of straps to it, he put it across his back, with the straps keeping it held on from the front. Making his way, he found a fire station, and decided to look around it. He found some fire axes, probably better than his saw. Picking one of them up, he left his saw on the ground, blood covering the blade, and left the building. Making his way towards the industrial section of Elektro, he decided it was best to not go in, as there were too many of those insane people about. Seeing the lighthouse in the distance, he continued on, entering the rural area of Elektro, and finding some 1886 slugs. Putting them in his backpack, which he had been given by Black Element, the PMC, he continued on towards the lighthouse. Hearing something, he took cover in some bushes, and heard a car drive past at high speeds. 'Somebody's in a hurry...' he thought to himself, and walked on. Nearing the lighthouse, he looked around, wondering where the man who wanted to talk to him was. Deciding it best to be at the lighthouse itself, he went up to it. "Anybody here?" he called out to the top.

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"ACK! Yes help!" Kyle screamed, hearing the guy. "Help! Up here!"

HE almost lost his grip on the ledge, but managed to grab it better with his other hand.

"Please!" Kyle screamed again. "Help me!". He looked down. It was the man to whom he had given him the note. He had a rifle. He must have found it whilst Kyle had been fighting the two bandits.

Kyle really hoped that guy wasn't a bandit.

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Looking around, he saw the dead woman. What the hell...is this guy insane? 'Or did something else kill the woman?' he thought to himself. Going up the ladder, he saw another guy, dead, two holes in his chest. Blood dripped down the ladder, almost causing him to slip. Getting to the top, he went out onto the railing, and helped the guy up. Standing back, he then leveled his rifle at the man he has just helped. "Now answer me this. Why are there two dead people here? And what the hell are with all these insane people? What the bloody hell is going on here?"

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"Well," Kyle said. They attacked me whilst I was waiting for you. I killed the woman, and then the man scraped my side with a bullet." He put his hand on his right side. So I played dead. He tried to throw me out the window, put I got him as he did."

Kyle waved his hand towards the man. "Take their stuff. I don't need it. I have a stash. I'll show you if you want. Oh, and I saw your crazy leap into the trees. Smart move. The names Kyle by the way. Yours?"

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"Brian. That's not what I meant. What the hell is going on here? What is up with those insane people? The ones that tried to tear me to peices? And why were those two trying to kill you?" Brian said, motioning all around him. Insane people, people trying to kill each other...and for what? What was happening in this place?

 

(He has no clue theres a zombie apocalypse, and doesn't know about bandits and such.)

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