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Topic: Zombies in Chicago
Subject: *swallows heart*
Murph came through the door low and with the crowbar at the ready to either strike or defend, whichever might be necessary. Surprisingly enough, there was no need for either; the place was as empty and still as church on Monday. Nothing moved and there were no signs of life in the bar other than those of lives that were already gone… The dark smears of blood on the floor and the smell of death evoked memories of the carnage that was left from an insurgent RPG attack on their post near Tikrit…
Breathe, Sergeant… Keep your focus… Look around… This is different.
…Murph realized he was still holding his breath, then, and that the muscles in his arms were starting to ache from the tension in the muscles that still kept the makeshift weapon ready for action. He tore his gaze from the bloodstains, letting his muscles relax and blowing a relieved breath passed pursed lips as he scanned the place. “This is different,” he mumbled to himself as his eyes swept the barroom and realized that, despite the broken doors, windows, and furniture, the place was in relatively decent shape, “no real structural damage, nothing missing except the people…” He fought off the urge to shudder. “…Friggin’ creepy.
Ah,” he said a little louder as his gaze fell on the shotgun near the bar, “God bless you, Patty O’Brian.” His booted feet crunched across broken glass and debris as Murph made his way over to retrieve and inspect the weapon. It looked to be in good shape and had nearly a full load of shells. Even better, as the mechanic continued on his sweep and clear, he found Patty’s ‘peacekeeper’ in it’s place under the bar along with a near-full box of .00 shells for the 10-gauge. He laid the crowbar and the bat on the bar, jacked a fresh round into the shotguns chamber and loaded the tube with a shell from the box before relegating the remainder to his pockets.
He scanned the place, again, from his vantage point behind the bar as he fished a Red Bull from the cooler and chugged it down. “Ack,” he grimaced, tossing the can aside and taking the bat and crowbar from the countertop in his free hand, “That stuffs god-awful.” Murph rounded the bar again, wondering if he’d have been better off to drink the weeks old coffee sludge that still clung to the pot behind the bar, and leaned the bat and crowbar against the wall near the basement door before moving for the front door and cautiously taking a peek at the outside world. When he did, that creepy feeling surged over him again and he wondered if Chi-town had ever been this still…
It took the man another moment to blink away his awe at how dead (for serious lack of a better term) the streets were and, when he did, his stomach grumbled in protest at the huge dose of caffeine and sugar that had just been dumped into it. Murph backed away from the doorway and, when his back hit the opposing wall and the crowbar, jostled by his heel, clanged to the floor, finally managed to glance back over his shoulder and peer down into the dimness of the basement. “We’re clear up here,” he called, “Dunno how long that’ll last, so let’s get a move on folks!”
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 23:15:37.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Okay, gang... here's some thoughts...
We've got some decent weapons, now, and an apparent lull in the zombie crush... If you've ever watched a zombie flick or played a survival horror game, though, you know that's not gonna last long...
Anyway, now that we're out of the basement, we need to figure out what to do next because, if we sit here too long we're meat for sure, so Murph's initial thoughts are to head towards Wrigley Field because a) it's close (a couple of blocks), b) it's a relatively large venue and, by nature, should have food, water, highly defensible areas (locker rooms, etc), and possibly some limited medical facilities and the like, and c) could we be lucky enough that it has some sort of backup power system (emergency generators or the like)... If nothing else, it seems (in Murph's mind anyway) that it'd be a safer and more sustainable place to 'hole up' and formulate a better plan.
Thoughts, opinions, other suggestions?
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 20:54:40.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Sweet!
Hooray for the shotgun and ammo (and the baseball bat, too)!
Hooray even more for there not being a ravenous raging horde waiting outside the basement!
Anything else of use available in the bar proper? (Largish bags of some sort to carry supplies as we manage to gather them, first aid stuff, etc)?
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 20:09:53.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Does he look...
...like Lee Majors?
Welcome aboard, Tiamat... The concept cracked me up (mainly cuz I was a big fan of The Fall Guy when I was younger... Heather Thomas was super yummy (and oddly enough, not a redhead, so go figure  ).
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 18:11:31.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: And done...
...that door's coming open whether we're ready or not, I suppose. As stated in post, immediate objectives are to find Patty's gun and whatever other supplies might be available in the bar (bottled water, weapons/ammo, any big purses or packs laying around that can be used to store/carry gear, first aid kits???) and, of course, defend himself (and the others) against any zombies that might be there (but I'm hoping aren't)...
Also, hoping this doesn't need to be said but saying it anyway, nothing said IC translates to OOC, okay? Murph drubbed you cuz that's what Murph would've done. 
P.P.S. For the record, Murph thinks the molotovs are a good idea... he's just really hoping that Jake's not planning on lighting it just yet... and maybe that the guy'll think to make more than just the one if he's serious about coming along...
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 17:15:46.
Edited on 2010-08-12 at 17:23:53 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago
Subject: If it ain't cirrosis, it'll be because I snapped...
“You guys wanna shut up for a moment and hear what everyone else has to say,” Alaster slurred…
Murph’s shoulders slumped a bit and his progress toward the door stopped (again) on the second tread of the stairway. His jaw clenched and his eyes closed as his grip flexed on the crowbar in his hands. Not really, no, he thought, drawing in a slow breath, I’m not convinced that I wanna do this, myself… I don’t need any help talking myself out of it. He opened his eyes, then, backed up a couple of steps and turned his head to regard Alaster where he wobbled on his perch.
…“I mean, Murph, what the hell plan do you have,” the younger man demanded, “I have yet to sober up and we have a half dead girl over there. Not including the fact that Amber is about to go as insane as those ravenous freaks out there! Are you really suggesting you carry a six foot drunk and a small ill girl while trying to keep a mother from going on a suicidal rampage?! What exactly was your plan go out and beat the zombies to death with your bare hands?! What do we use, Murph?”
The kid paused to light up another cigarette and, after a long drag, continued on his tear, this time targeting Amber – whom Murph couldn’t help but noticed had drawn closer to him in the wake of Alaster’s drunken diatribe. “And you, Amber; if we stay here we die. Get over the sad story about your child. I’m probably the only one here who didn't lose someone he loved, so grow up and tend to your own needs before you worry about your son’s.”
Grow up?! Murph’s eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched as he glowered across the murk of the basement,This coming from the guy who’s drank half the barstock by himself in the last few days? You insensitive son of a… He twisted his grip on the crowbar as if he were thinking about taking it to the carpenter’s head as opposed to using it to defend himself from whatever might be outside the basement door, and, probably would have had it not been for Amber pressing back against him, just as wobbly and tearful as she had been before the kid decided to open his yap.
“Take me with you Tom… I’ll go.” She muttered quietly.
“Anyone have a lighter?” Murph’s eyes flicked to the guy he’d come to know as Jake, then... some kind of pro athlete or something, if I remember … and took in the improvised explosive the man was holding in his hand.
One hand let loose of the crowbar and slid reassuringly around the trembling barmaid’s shoulders. He looked down into her eyes, made note of the trembling lip and tear-damp cheeks as he nodded his silent reply. Tommy Murphy’s gaze traveled around the dank confines of the basement, then, as he considered the validity of some points that Alaster was making, and balancing them against some of the absurdities that had punctuated them. His eyes lingered for an instant on each face or form, then returned to the young carpenter, again…
“If this were another place and another time, boy,” Murph rumbled, “I’d hand you your a**, right now! The way it stands, though, is that, at this minute, all any of us have is right here in this basement and we’ve got bigger things to worry about than tearing each other down. If we are gonna get out of here and live through whatever friggin’ nightmare this is, we’re gonna need each other whether we like it or not!
You wanna stay down here and drink away the rest of your days, man, you go right ahead because you’re right… I got no intention of carrying a six foot drunk outta here! I’ll carry the girl if I’ve got to – but I’m betting that she ain’t as sick as you are drunk and is more than willing to at least try – and, yeah, Alaster, if it comes to it, I’ll beat one of those friggin’ things stupid with my bare hands! I sure to God ain’t stayin’ down here and rotting away without even tryin’ to do something!
So, my immediate plan, little man,” Murph growled, turning his back on Alaster before he worked himself into a real good frenzy and starting for the steps again, “is to go up top, see if I can find Patty’s shotgun and maybe some shells for the thing, and get us the hell out of this place…”
“Anyone?” Jake again…
What’s he so desperate for a light for? He ain’t planning on lighting that in here, I hope…
He gave Amber another comforting squeeze before letting his arm fall away from her shoulders again. “You okay,” he asked.
((OOC: Assuming a positive response of some sort))
“Good,” he nodded, “Do me a favor and see if you can’t get Emily rallied around and ready to go?”
((Again, assuming a nod of compliance at least…))
His gaze slid around the room again, coming to rest on the guy with the hastily made Molotov in his hand, this time, but before Murph could say anything, Alaster got distracted by the footballer and that pair got wrapped up in an almost surreal conversation, so the mechanic simply shook his head, flicked a glance at Amber, and bounded up the steps to start dismantling the barricade.
He heard the thud when Alaster hit the floor… heard him ask to be reminded of where the bedroom was… We’ve been living in a one room basement for almost two weeks, knucklehead… Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, I hope he sobers up quick!!!
“Almost there,” he called down the stairs a moment later, setting another piece of the barricade aside, "how're we coming down there?"
((OOC: Okay... "dressing down" completed for what it's worth ... Murph's opening the door... Here's hoping we're ready. ))
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 17:13:40.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Okay...
...that's twice I've started drooling over this game now!
Great post, Meri... got a little follow up for Murph actions/reactions coming up and then I should be good.
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 15:25:18.
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Topic: How Did You First Find Red Dragon Inn?
Subject: Heh... the facelick is the glue that binds us all together...
How'd I get here?
You guys brought me, of course... *leans in and whispers* Y'see, I'm just a figment of your imagination. Started out as a funky green toadstool with pinkspots, don'cha know? Then, some random Innmate decides that the mushroom's a hat and some whack-a-doo elf lives under it... One thing leads to another, see, and one day - POOF - there's Eol! *nods*
Not buyin' that, are ya?
No... I didn't think so...
Like many of the rest of you, I googled my way here, more or less. Sitting at home one night, after I'd finished the rest of the internet, I did a search (been so long ago I can't recall exactly what for, though) and a click or two later, here I was, lurking and lurking... then I joined up and lurked for a little longer before tossing in a post here and there... then I got into a freeform game... then I got into other games... then I moved in...
Psssh! I like the first version better... let's go with that!
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 13:54:05.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Hmmm...
...I dunno... I don't think Murph's keen on "leaving a man behind" if you know what I mean.
Right now, he's trying to think of the safest place to go if/when they get out of the bar... somewhere defensible, decently supplied, and all that jazz ... then, like he said in post, his only goals thereafter are to see to it that Emily gets well and Amber gets to see her kid... beyond that...*shrug*... it's the end of the world... whaddya do?
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 01:35:11.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: I know...
...it's probably rather darkish in the basement and all but it's Murph and Amber that are "bickering" and such, guys... Emily's the sickly college student...
I know... I'm a nit-picker... *pickpickpick*
Posted on 2010-08-12 at 01:21:08.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Kay-o...
...was wondering about the family thing, myself.
Also, I wasn't 100% sure whether or not sunow's character would be starting with us in the basement at all so no offense intended in omitting the guy from Murph's first posts. 
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 20:49:28.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: *snerf*
I didn't laugh at that... I promise...
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 20:28:22.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Ummm...
...I'm not dead (yet)... I just got here and haven't had the chance to make any dumb mistakes yet.
*Hugs Alacrity*
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 19:59:01.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago
Subject: Just a li'l RP and a li'l bump...
Murph postponed his inspection of the door when he heard the shoosh and slap of Amber’s shoes coming across the floor at him and turned just in time to get thumped square in the chest by what was left of her cell phone. He watched the thing bounce off of the grime-streaked ‘Dawson’s Garage’ patch and clatter to the floor again before he looked her in the eye and silently endured the brunt of her tirade as if he’d been expecting it…
“Out!?” She screeched. “Out?!? Do you think that if there was ANY way I could have gotten out of here that I would still be in this hell hole!? Do you? Do you honestly think I want to be here, this dark beer smelling pit with the three of you and lord only knows what crawling over our heads… not to mention the rats! Haven’t you heard them Murph… crawling in the corners, eating whatever we didn’t! I haven’t heard from my son in NINE days! Nine! But…”
Yeah, I know, Murph thought, just then, Amber’s words bringing thoughts of his own kid to the forefront of his mind, and I haven’t seen mine since he was probably six months old and Uncle Sam sent me off to play in the sandbox… Wasn’t there even a year when I got the ‘Dear John’ from Jenny, either… Christ! What’s that make Mickey, now? Four? Five? He blinked and shook the thought away. He couldn’t afford to think about them, right now… maybe once they were out and safe… but not now.
The venom and indignant disbelief had evaporated from Amber’s voice and had been replaced by the tremulous strain of grief and hopelessness. “…there is nothing up there but death,” she shuddered as the tears welled in her eyes, “nothing… but… death…****!”
The woman broke down into a sobbing mess, then, and her knees buckled, but Murph kept her from crumpling to the floor by grabbing hold of her shoulders and pulling her to him. For a moment, he just held her, letting her sob and sniffle into his shirt as he closed his eyes and let her last words overlay the thoughts he’d had earlier about them all lucking out and dying of starvation before they ever saw the outside of this basement. “What do you think is down here that’s any better, Amber,” he asked, trying to keep his tone of voice soft and understanding as he finally opened his eyes, “We’ve got no clean water, no food to speak of, and damn little else outside of hoping for a rescue.” Murph peeled Amber away from his chest, then, but kept a firm grip on her shoulders just in case her knees were still Jell-O. “Look around,” he suggested, his eyes ticking pointedly towards the sickly Emily and the half-sauced Alaster, “We’ve been stuck here for ten days and there ain’t been any indication that a rescue’s coming (let alone that there’s anybody left to even come and try to help). Maybe there isn’t anything but death up there, Amber, but if we stay, there won’t anything but death down here, either.
Look at her,” he nodded towards Emily, “How much longer do you think she’s gonna last if we don’t get her some help?” His gaze shifted to indicate the younger man, then, and, trying to affect as light-hearted a tone as possible, he said; “Alaster’s liable to drink himself into liver failure if we don’t find something better for him to do with the time… Then it’s just gonna be me and you and the rats waiting for us to end up on their buffet...”
Real convincing, Murph, he grumbled inwardly, go ahead and point out what a ‘strong chance’ you’ve got; that’ll get ‘em motivated…
The once-and-former mechanic sighed, then, and let go of the barmaid’s shoulders so that one hand could tip her face so her eyes met his and the other could wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I ain’t dying down here doing nothing, Amber. I ain’t gonna just lay down and give up. If I gotta die, I’d rather do it up there… trying to get a doctor to help Emily… and gettin’ you back to your son…”
He mustered a mirthless but determined smile as he let Amber go… let his gaze pan over the faces and forms of the others for a moment… and then, snatching up the crowbar that Patty kept down here to open crates, he turned towards the door again. “If you all are stayin’ here, make sure you board up behind me. Personally, I can’t stand the thoughts of trying to scrape whatever’s left of that cheese-crap out of that can with stale chips for dinner again… I’m gonna go see what’s what… I’ll bring back some help if I can…”
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 19:58:09.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: I wouldn't have expected any less...
...niiiice post Meri!
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 16:26:25.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Awww...
...and here I was hopin' that we'd get to see Amber pole-dance a zombie into oblivion... now she's talking about actual weapons and ruining my dirty old fun!
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 15:36:00.
Edited on 2010-08-11 at 15:36:41 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Yup...
...not to mention a very short romp for this initial group of survivors, I'll bet. 
Anyhoo... I've got a bit more in mind now that I know what sort of weaponry we've got available but will hang back a little and let the others post something up before I get to crazy with another post....
Ooooh! Afterthought! I'll bet that we could make some nifty molotov cocktails with a bottle or two of that liquor, too... Zombies do burn regardless of whether they're fast or not, right?
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 13:43:38.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: *grins*
Well that's better than the box of plastic sporks that have been collecting dust on that top shelf, huh?
Thanks, Boss.
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 13:16:44.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Told ya I was droolin'!!!
I even slobbered out Murph's first post already.
Didn't want to go too far before the rest of our group had a chance to speak up, of course, but Murph's ready to go... I'm going on the assumption that the shotgun Patty had in the intro post went with him when he got munched and so isn't readily available, so the first thing he's going to want to do (even before checking the door) will be to find a better weapon than the knife he's got... then check the door... then go after that shot gun if nothing else... He's hoping someone else will volunteer to go with him and cover his back but will go after the boomstick alone if he has to.
*droolslobberslobberdrool*
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 01:50:57.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago
Subject: Who wants to live forever, anyway?
Tommy Murphy – known simply as “Murph” to most – leaned against the basement wall and intently eyed a needle of murky daylight that stabbed through the boards that had been nailed across the tiny window just a few feet away. He seemed almost entranced by the dust motes that danced along that sliver of light and, for almost as long as it took him to slowly drag the life out of a cigarette, all he did was stare and puff… and stare and puff… As the coals at the end of that smoke burned closer to his fingers, though, the diesel mechanic from Dawson’s Garage blinked away his trance, sighed in disappointment when he saw what was left of the Pall Mall, took a final drag and pinched out the coals between his fingers.
“All I wanted was a cold beer, some hot wings, and some highlights from the game,” Murph muttered, pocketing the butt as he blew his last drag into that pitiful ray of light. He ran one grease and oil stained had over the lengthening stubbles of hair that covered his scalp, shook his head, and either snorted or started to chuckle (it was hard to tell, even for Murph) before pushing away from the wall and turning his eyes on the others again. “Then I was gonna go home, watch the news, and probably pass out on the couch so I could get up and go finish that turbo the next day… I usually don’t even come in here on Thursdays,” he smirked as his eyes settled on O’Brian’s barmaid, Amber, “but it ain’t like the Cubbies take the pennant every season, right?”
He didn’t really know why he needed her to confirm either of those facts… maybe just because she could… she’d been working here long enough to greet him by name when he came in and bring him a Killian’s without him having to ask… long enough for Murph to know that Amber had a kid that stayed with her brother when she was working… When she came in onthat Thursday, it was probably because she knew it’d be a good tip night with the game on… probably worried sick about that kid, now…
A rather unhealthy sounding cough snapped him out of the blinking moment of silence, made him feel instantly guilty about having needed to smoke that cigarette, and drew his gaze toward where Emily was curled against the wall looking even paler than she had a few hours ago… Maybe she’ll luck out and die of whatever she’s got before we all starve to death, he couldn’t help but think as he glanced back towards the barricaded window, and maybe we’ll all get lucky enough to do that before those things get in. He scowled at the morbidity of the thought… and scowled deeper at the horrifying reality of it… and he couldn’t look at Emily any more right now.
Murph sighed again, unceremoniously plopping himself down on an upturned whiskey crate and cradling his head in his hands for a minute as he stared at the spot between his feet. “Jesus,” he breathed, letting his hands drag across his face and rub at the stubble on his face that had grown almost as long as the hair on his head in the last few days, as he forced himself to look at the small group of people in the basement… his bloodshot hazel eyes fixed first, this time, on Alaster (that was the kid’s name, wasn’t it?), the carpenter kid who was keeping himself numb by taking regular slugs from a bottle of Jack… Yep… Amber’s gonna worry to death over her kid, Emily’s gonna wheeze out from whatever she’s got, and, if that one don’t drink himself to death, he’ll sure be numb enough not to feel whatever one of those freaks eats him…
The mechanic shoved himself to his feet again, snatching the bottle from the kid’s hand and taking a good long pull from it before handing it back and, seriously this time, letting his eyes take in the face of each person in this dismal sanctuary. He winced a bit as the burn of the whiskey surged down his throat and into his near empty stomach, then, looking from the last face to the door that no one had dared to open since Patty hadn’t come back, he set his jaw and nodded once. “All right. We’re gettin’ outta here,” he said flatly...
((OOC: Just a little something to get us going, I guess… immediate actions for Murph are going to include looking for a weapon of some sort that’s better than the gerber folding knife in his pocket (is there a pipe, crowbar, board with a nail in it anywhere in the basement?), then check the door (i.e. listen for any signs of life or undeath beyond) before even sticking his little toe out… Backposts and edits as necessary to address conversations, whatever… Let’s mash!!!))
Posted on 2010-08-11 at 01:42:27.
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago Q&A
Subject: Time to do something???
We can commence to trying to not get killed, now??? Really?!?!
*rubs hands eagerly*
I think I might actually be drooling!
Posted on 2010-08-10 at 22:46:15.
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Topic: Myth Breakers #4: The Pen and the Sword
Subject: Hehehehe...
All I can say to that is
+1!
Posted on 2010-08-10 at 17:23:25.
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Topic: Myth Breakers #4: The Pen and the Sword
Subject: Well... not saying that it is...
...but the "Bob" in this strip certainly looks an awful lot like our very own Admiral...
Posted on 2010-08-10 at 17:01:30.
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Topic: Myth Breakers #4: The Pen and the Sword
Subject: LMAO
Perfect!
P.S. A little 'flawed magic' might've benefited 'Bob' there, don't ya think?
Posted on 2010-08-10 at 14:32:01.
Edited on 2010-08-10 at 14:36:15 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Zombies in Chicago - D20 Modern Recruitment
Subject: Yeah...
...c'mon... conceptualize... join up... get munched on... it'll be fuuuuuuuun!
Posted on 2010-08-10 at 13:50:11.
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