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May 13, 2010 20:00:28 GMT -5
Post by Dark Nomad on May 13, 2010 20:00:28 GMT -5
The roars from the man thrown from the jeep were like the annoying buzzes from a bee to Vargr but he turned back to catch the sight of the blade in his hand. At the sight of it Vargr flashed his giant fangs and growled. It seemed this man wanted to fight more than anything. In a single bound Vargr moved over to the man and picked him up with one hand and attempted to attack with the other when the blade struck his hand. With a quick wimper of pain, Vargr unleashed a volley of attacks out of anger. Wild and out of control the shots mostly missed only landing one on the mans left shoulder. With a few quick barks, Vargr ordered the two remaining creatures from his pack to attack the others.
Vargr let out a loud, ear shattering howl hopping some of the pack back in the glade would hear and come to his aid. After what seemed like a millenia, while fighting the men, no other creatures came. Vargr was getting desperate. He had never thought that three men would cause him this much trouble right after wiping out an entire convoy. He had fought many creatures but for some reason the creatures weren't as strong or troubling as these three men.
Vargr would have to fall back to the glade to get more members of the pack, but he didn't want to admit defeat. He had never been beat before and it would be a shame if it was to just three humans. The pack may revolt and he would have to prove he was still worthy of the Alphamale position. Which would lead to having to fight members of his pack. It would devistate the pack.
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May 13, 2010 20:39:53 GMT -5
Post by .Merios on May 13, 2010 20:39:53 GMT -5
Matthew snatched the sub machine gun out of air and moved his left hand upwards and pulled back the hammer with a snap, his right thumb moving to the safety and flicking if off as he shouldered the firearm, aiming it at one of the creatures as it began retreating. As if he was born to use the weapon, he squeezed the trigger and placed a volley of four rounds into the back right leg of the monster- three met their marks and the fourth strayed to the right and smacked the ground. He noticed the monster beginning to turn around to face him, and he aimed center mass and depressed the trigger, continuing to walk towards it. As soon as it lifted it's head, he adjusted his sights and emptied the rest of the magazine in it's neck and skull. The 9mm. rounds hadn't done too much damage, but with the weakening structure of the creature's body, it eventually took enough hits to get taken down.
It seems the enemies were on the run, and the one he was attacking was now on the ground, incapacitated but not quite dead. He stepped up to it, dropping the smg and moving his right hand to his hip, unstrapping his Mateba and lifting it, sliding his right index finger over the trigger and pressing it against the creature's head, beneath it's left ear. The body began to stir a little before he pulled the trigger, a spray of crimson arced in the air as the creature's head snapped backwards to the ground, it's body going still. He looked up from the body and stared off in the distance, looking at the retreating beasts. His eyes returned to normal as he turned around, looking down at his autorevolver and sliding it into it's hip holster. He stepped a few more paces back to one of his many previous positions and picked up his sawn-off shotgun. He lifted it with his now free right hand and snapped the two barrels down, ejecting the empty cases and then whipped it back up, slipping it into it's holster underneath his left armpit. He walked towards where his Machete was dropped and snatched it up, moving it up and sheathing it into his shoulder harness and turned towards the men, moving his right hand to his face and pulling down his bandanna, revealing the lower half of his face- there were two horizontal scars reaching up either side of his cheeks, reaching his ears.
He walked towards the men but stopped a good 10 feet away, eyeing them both. He opened his mouth, speaking in a sarcastic yet rough tone.
"Thanks for the help," he said, lifting his right eyebrow as he neglected to make eye contact.
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Eisenhorn
Alive
Running is ALWAYS an option!
Posts: 13
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May 14, 2010 19:54:53 GMT -5
Post by Eisenhorn on May 14, 2010 19:54:53 GMT -5
Catching the motion of the center soldier catching the SMG and calmly opening controlled fire on the remaining beast, then finishing it up close and personal. A soldier alright, veteran in both war and counter infection warfare by the looks of it thus far. Well, considering the 9mm wasn't meant for doing the amount of damage that would of been helpful here, it was no surprise the man had finished the monster up close. Also had nerves of steel, that or had lost most of his sanity, leaving a cold shell. Jericho had seen one or two men who had nearly lost all sanity, leaving a cold killing shell behind, who's only release was death. Some of em recovered, most didn't. He emptied the magazine in his USP, reloading but not starting to fire again. Things seemed to be stabilizing now, so he didn't need to waste any more ammo.
Checking around him briefly, he rose from his crouch, brushing the dirt from his pants. He saw his A2 laying on the ground, and mentally sighed. He would have to check the gun for damage, as unlikely as that was, as well as potential jams. Relativily certain they had a few moments of breathing time, he holstered the USP, hearing the sarcastic tone and rolled his eyes slightly. Dealing with this guy would be fun if he kept that tone of voice up. The scars reinforced his theory the guy was a veteran, if he had doubted that much by then. The other guy, Mr. Machine gunner as he was currently nicknamed, had some courage as well. That left him, and he wasn't going there, so he shrugged at the comment after about half a second of thought.
"Sure thing mate. Bet the gunfire attracted all sorts of unwanted attention." Jericho had little idea where to go, having rarely visited Germany before this chaos. Even his bearings on general location were off, and he wasn't producing the GPS until necessary. No need for anyone to know he had more then he had shown. Giving the veteran fair area of room, he collected his A2, stripping the empty mag and doing a field check on it, worries unfounded as it proved ready to go. So he reloaded it and kept it in his arms, checking the surrounding treeline again.
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SNAFÜ
Zombie Hunter
I'm gonna flank the hell outta you!
Posts: 133
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May 14, 2010 20:24:55 GMT -5
Post by SNAFÜ on May 14, 2010 20:24:55 GMT -5
Viktor picked himself up from the ground today, it seemed like today was the "throw the crazy czech guy around" day. After looking about for his trench knife, walking a few paces and picking it up. He brought the blade about five inches from his nose and took a whiff. The scent was that of other blood, but there was something else. Something that reminded him of the stink of BOW. He walked over to a downed mercenary rolled his body over, using the lapel of his BDU to wipe Vargr's blood from his blade. Sheathing the blade in his thigh sheath he lifted the mercs arm and unslung a UMP 45. SMG. After doing a quick check of the weapon (noting that the man did'nt even fire a shot before he was killed.) he would peel back the mans jacket and take the two extra thirty round clips from the velcro clip retainers on the mans now useless body armor. Viktor slung the SMG over his shoulder and looked at the two men, hearing them both speak english. One of them spoke with an accent that Viktor found strange. He looked at Matthew and narrowed his eyes, from what he saw of the man it seemed like he was more than meets the eyes from the way he fought the things. "Best to keep an eye on this one." Viktor thought. He motioned for them to follow starting off twoards the general direction that Vargr had began.
Why are you two gemosekee standing around? We go kill crazy wolf man now eh? Or are you two making "happy trails" and leaving like girls?
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May 15, 2010 9:14:31 GMT -5
Post by Dark Nomad on May 15, 2010 9:14:31 GMT -5
Vargr was forced to retreat from these three men. There was something weird about the one who took most of his pack out but Vargr didn't know what it was. He retreated to the tree line where hopefully he could get a jump on the three men if they decided to follow him. He could see them standing around from where he was, but he knew they could not see him. Vargr felt he would now have to kill these three men to make up for the loses the pack faced today. Vargr's cut had stopped bleading and the one in his hand was starting to scab up. Not many wounds were a problem for Vargr it was just if he got too badly hurt. Soon enough if these men didn't come towards him he would have to follow them and hunt them down. If he could kill one it would make the odds a whole lot better in the wolve's favor.
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May 16, 2010 0:49:14 GMT -5
Post by Shotgun Yell on May 16, 2010 0:49:14 GMT -5
The helicopter had crashed…somewhere, and Kirill had been walking for days now. Blood stained his once porcelain white face and chest, along with the cheap woodland BDU pants he still had on from his time in Chechnya. Poland was a drag, Russia was even worse, but Germany so far wasn’t so bad. A few farmhouses hear and there, a body or two, but other than that it had been smooth sailing since the border.
In their holds, his eyes were scanning the horizon instinctively, always trying to find the next thing that would come along as he followed the winding gravel road he’d been travelling on for days now. Main roads were danger, as were major cities, so the Russian stuck to the countryside, soaking in the winding hills and dots of forests, until finally he crested one of the many hills and stopped dead in his tracks.
There was a fight ahead, what looked to be massive hulking werewolves were assaulting a band of humans, and Kirill was surprised he hadn’t heard the pop of gunfire earlier. Then again his ear drums were shot to s***, joining the blood from the cut on his forehead on his chest as the stiffened red stuff ran a trail from his ear to his armpit. His guns were mostly visible, the revolver in the front of his waistband, the two makarovs on either side of him, also on his waistband, and the Saiga that was strapped to his back. The only things not visible were his two ankle mounted Makarovs, but he couldn’t give less of a care as he scanned over the fight through his Vintorez’s scope.
Deciding to make contact, he let the rifle hang from his chest harness and followed the road straight down the hill towards the battle, eventually cresting another hill after dipping down a valley and now visible to the men easily. The beasts were gone now, but Kirill wasn’t sure where they’d gone and instead focused his attention on the men. There was a convoy now visible, torn to pieces by the pack, concluded Kirill.
Continuing down the hill, he wasn’t sure if the men noticed him or not but watched as one started towards a nearby forest, the other two seeming hesitant to follow him and Kirill figured he wanted to pursue the wild animals. Not the greatest of ideas, he thought and when he knew he was spotted rose his hands high above his head.
“Hallo?”
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May 16, 2010 16:00:09 GMT -5
Post by .Merios on May 16, 2010 16:00:09 GMT -5
As Jericho spoke, Matthew reached inside his jacket and withdrew his sawn-off shotgun. He flipped the two barrels downward and reached behind his back right his free left hand, jostling around in a small box on his waist and producing two 12-gauge flechette rounds shots and slipped them into the barrels. He then snapped the barrels back up and slid the shotgun back into it's left armpit holster.
"Why are you two gemosekee standing around? We go kill crazy wolf man now eh? Or are you two making "happy trails" and leaving like girls?"
Matthew, turned his vision to the angry Russian who just spoke, eyeing him, "Why take unnecessary risks? It fled. Unless it attacks, I say we scavenge this convoy for what we can use and hoof it."
It was starting to get dark, but the sunlight hadn't yet faded from the sky. Matthew reached to his right hip and withdrew his Mateba, holding to it's side with his right hand, his left moving to the cylinder and sliding it out. As the bullets fell out, he caught the unfired rounds and let the casings drop to the dirt. With the bullets in hand, he moved his left hand back behind him and slipped them into the box on the back of his belt. He switched hands, holding the autorevolver in his left hand and moving his right down to where the Mateba was holstered. His fingers fished around in a pocket near the holster and withdrew an auto-loader of .357 rounds. He moved it to the autorevolver and slipped it into the cylinder, snapping off the end and whipping the pistol up, his right hand smacking the cylinder, letting it revolve a few times before he slipped the weapon into it's holster.
"Hallo?"
Matthew looked up from his leg to the new arrival, who was waving his hands above his head. Another foreigner he thought, moving his right hand up in a pathetic half-wave.
"Sprechen Sie Englisch?" Matthew spoke in German-basic phrases, not much to get by with.
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Eisenhorn
Alive
Running is ALWAYS an option!
Posts: 13
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May 16, 2010 16:38:23 GMT -5
Post by Eisenhorn on May 16, 2010 16:38:23 GMT -5
Jericho was internally amused at the fact the russian was now proposing to hunt the beast down. He failed to see how doing so would profit him in any way, and he wasn't one to just do things for the fun of it. The soldier made much more sense, strip everything of use and head for the hills. He gladly would second that motion, it had a much better potential to benefit him in the long run. He commented as much, already walking over to the convey to find a better weapon then a 9mm A2. "Going to agree with stripping the convey and running for the hills. Unless you can give me a legitimate reason that also benefits me in the long run to hunt that thing down." If a real reason to kill this thing could be given, and he found that it would be worth more then the risk, he would probably assist in chasing it further. If these two died, that was a crying shame, but he could care less. So long as their deaths either fail to set him back or aid him. Though he seriously doubted the russian could, or would, come up with a reason beyond revenge, which did him no good beyond wasting ammo. Something he was most certainely not inclined to do at the moment.
Walking over to the wrecked convoy, he first checked the wrecked vehicles themselves for supplies. Food, some ammo which he would keep in mind if he found a gun that he would replace his A2 with, otherwise no guns that caught his interest. That meant the bodies then. The bodies held nothing he wanted, not wanting to have his sidearm and main weapon use the same calibur, it was a backup for a reason. He didn't want to only have 12 shots and then only his knife. Walking to one of the last vehicles he hadn't checked, he popped the trunk and found a prize, relativily speaking. It was a civilian rifle, semi auto, looked like a Ruger Mini- 14 as far as he was concerned. There were four spare mags, ten round capacity, which he grabbed as he discarded the A2 and 9mm ammo with it. He slipped the three spare magazines and loading one where his 9mm ammo had been, stepping back from the vehicle and aiming the sights at a tree, tweaking them subtely for his use. That done, he noted the use of German towards the newcomer, lowering the rifle from his aim at the tree, casually commenting. "If he doesn't speak English, he won't be very useful if we can't understand a word he says." Which was a liability as far as he was concerned.
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SNAFÜ
Zombie Hunter
I'm gonna flank the hell outta you!
Posts: 133
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May 17, 2010 10:45:41 GMT -5
Post by SNAFÜ on May 17, 2010 10:45:41 GMT -5
Strip convoy...and run? These...Podivné zvěř (Strange beasts) are wolf. We hurt its...how you say...Pack? Once we try to run they will chase you until you are dead. They are on lovu (the hunt.) and will not stop until we are all mrtvý. Good enough reason for you kamarád? The americans says "Do or die" ne?
Viktor shook his head at the two men who obviously seemed more likely hunted then the hunters. He looked down at his own measly UMP 45 and then back up to the men. It was most apparent that he needed a new weapon, but in the heat of battle he picked up whatever seemed available at the time. Suddenly his eyes lit up remembering where his rifle had been lost. Viktor threw the sub machine gun to the dirt along with the extra clips. He turned and ran back past the two overturned vehicle to the last diesel transport. He vanished past the olive drab flap and a few moments later he reappeared with a M-93 Black Arrow with AN/PVS-10 day/night optic and green laser targeting module. He had also shoved the two extra clips into the satchel strapped to his side. He returned to the two men with a huge grin on his face, motioning twoards the anti everything rifle.
I find "Big Viktor Special" gun. Now we go fight crazy wolf things...
Viktor caught sight of the man armed to the teeth. Out of instinct he shouldered the 50 Cal rifle and dropped to one knee. It was an unorthodox stance but Viktor felt comfortable shooting this way. He recognized the mans accent as German (am I correct?) and immediately barked out a few orders.
Ich will diejenigen reichen herauf. Ergreifen Sie die Wolken! Kommen Sie auf beiden Knien herunter und behalten Sie Ihren Hände hoch!
(I want those hands up. Grab the clouds! Get down on both knees and keep your hands up!)
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May 17, 2010 16:23:31 GMT -5
Post by Shotgun Yell on May 17, 2010 16:23:31 GMT -5
“No German! No German!” Called out Kirill hastily, his hands instantly reaching up above his head weapon less, as his sniper hung loose across his chest and he dropped to a knee on the gravel road, dirtying his BDU bottoms even more. “Chechnyan, da?” He asked, eyes wide with fear, a technique he’d learned ages ago to show a fear within him that didn’t exist. No one would know.
The man didn’t want to leave himself open like he was, but decided against standing his ground, after all it was better to be polite (or at least that’s what he’d call it) then get a hole the size of his head punched through his chest. In Chechnya he’d seen people get destroyed by rifles the same calibre as the one that was pointed at him, and it wasn’t the way he wanted to leave the world ever, not in a million years.
“No harm, I mean no harm, da? I see big hair beasts, you kill them?”
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May 19, 2010 18:54:17 GMT -5
Post by Dark Nomad on May 19, 2010 18:54:17 GMT -5
Humans seemed to be coming out of the wood work now. there were more now then there were when Vargr left. He watched from the forest as the men walked around, talking, when another came up. One of the men dropped to a knee and pointed a rifle at him. The other man raised his hands, went to one knee and spoke. Vargr didn't understand the men so he didn't know what their plans were. He was starting to get impatient, but he knew he would have to wait for them to either come after him or to move on before he could successfully attack. His wounds were basically all healed now, the dried blood on his chest and hand staining his fur. The blood and flesh in and on his teeth was still visable even in the shade of the forest. Soon enough he would have his revenge.
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May 20, 2010 13:03:06 GMT -5
Post by .Merios on May 20, 2010 13:03:06 GMT -5
Matthew looked to the man, Kirill, who he originally thought was German. It seemed he was among many Russians. He didn't know whether to be happy or on edge that so many ruskies were showing up- more hands, more guns. When the man spoke, he just nodded and motioned to the beaten and destroyed bodies of the creatures dotting the road as he headed towards the truck. Matthew walked past the man with the .50 cal, patting him on the shoulder. He knelt down in front of the back of the vehicle, grasping the tarp and pulling it up and off, revealing the mass of bodies and supplies piled up on the ground and the side-turned bed.
As he started sifting through it, Matthew spoke up, "'Name's Matthew, if you're wondering. American, and not a soldier."
He came upon a box of rations- gold. He grasped the rather large box with both hands and lifted it out with ease, moving a few paces back and tossing it to the ground, letting it slam into the dirt with a loud thud, sending chrome-colored packets fluttering to the ground. He moved back to the truck, grabbing the body of one of the men and gently lifting it from the ground. He held the man's arm in one hand and pulled him over his shoulder, moving back and setting him on the ground, moving his right hand down to the man's face and closing his eyes. He then turned back to the truck once more, heading over to it.
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Eisenhorn
Alive
Running is ALWAYS an option!
Posts: 13
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May 21, 2010 18:45:47 GMT -5
Post by Eisenhorn on May 21, 2010 18:45:47 GMT -5
Jericho couldn't help but notice that the Russian had found a bigger gun. Had this really turned into a game of one up man ship? Not something to worry about, so long as the weapons were pointed at the hostiles and not himself. Having never raised the weapon at the newcomer, he didn't bother doing so. He spoke their language, meant he could communicate. And that eliminated the one major barrier that could of led to trouble. Anything else, beyond outright hostility, he could probably talk his way through. Another Russian, by the fact he reacted to the yelling, and in a way that showed he made sense of the words. Great, meant they could plot behind his back if it so suited them. Would keep an eye on them.
"Yea? And that Big Viktor Special gun of yours, as soon as you bloody well fire it, will catch attention of every ugly within earshot. The thing will lick its wounds and probably have to fight for dominance in the pack again. Giving us time to hightail it. Besides, by what Matthew appears to be doing, is getting us some wheels. Go by Jericho myself."
Walking over to the truck, he hopped in the back bed of it, unceremoniously dumping one of the bodies. They were dead, end of story. No need to mourn them or anything. Better them then him. "I'm assuming one of you lot know how to fix mechanical things if they go bad. Because I'm not betting this thing will start without a hitch. Lucky if it starts no problem." In a pinch, he could do some basic items on civilian vehicles. But don't try and get him to fix anything military. That was not his speciality. Dumping the last body in the back, he used his perch to scan for trouble, rifle at his shoulder now. He wasn't riding in the truck cab, too confined if something went bad, say they crashed.
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SNAFÜ
Zombie Hunter
I'm gonna flank the hell outta you!
Posts: 133
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May 21, 2010 19:27:26 GMT -5
Post by SNAFÜ on May 21, 2010 19:27:26 GMT -5
Viktor lowered his M-93 as the rogue of the group patted his shoulder, obviously this Chechnyan wasn't a threat for now. It seemed that they all spoke english at an understandable level. He listened to the introductions, Matthew... He recognized that name from the bible. And then Jericho, the name of the ill fated city that had fallen in the old testament. He pipped up with his own name after eyeing Kirill suspiciously. He did'nt trust Chechnyans, cowards and traitors the lot of them.
My name is Viktor Prokop. Good to...how do you saying fighting with you. Matthew American Comrade and Jericho from nowhere. We are like three amigos eh?
One of the chrome colored packets hit his scuffed combat boot and he bent down to pick it up. He clenched the edge with his teeth and pulled open the ration packet, to his luck it was a chocolate bar ration. He took a bite and nodded his head in satisfaction. That is until he heard Jericho talk about fixing the truck. The truck would bring way more infected then a shot ever would. He looked over at Matthew and spoke between bites of his candy.
We hunt Podivné zvěř?(Strange beasts) You are strong man, if you dont want to hunt then I will run. But I am not liking the idea of running, makes us look like scared little Gemosekee.
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May 23, 2010 19:27:23 GMT -5
Post by Shotgun Yell on May 23, 2010 19:27:23 GMT -5
With the gun now lowered, and the others going about their business, Kirill rose up off his knee and at the sight of silver MRE packets on the ground, slid his rifle across his back. The strap was taut against his chest, and the VSS clattered against the saiga, but Kirill gave no head to it and instead practically dove for the packets. First one he grabbed was a meat and mashed potatoes package, so the Russian almost leap up in sheer joy.
This was much better than killing for crackers.
“Not mechanic, but I know little,” He spoke up, passing the formerly hostile man on the side of the road and caught up with the other two who were near a still standing truck. One of the last. Instinctively the Russian clambered into the back of the truck, found the small tool kit where they normally were, and then hopped back down with a smile on his face.
“Least I do, no? Oh, and name is Fahim, pleasure is mine da?” Without any further adieu he started to get to work on the truck, but first he had to setup the heater from the MRE on the ground and set his meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and of course chicken breast on it. Better hot if it’s possible, he rationed. While it cooked, he worked.
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