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 Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2008 2:45 pm
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Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2008 5:11 pm
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Posted: Tue Jun 17, 2008 7:16 pm
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(Alright, I think I see where this is going. Gimme a PM if you want an edit, but I'll leave it open to let you change the circumstances.) rofl
****************************************************************
He glanced up, amidst his difficult wriggle through the fence wires. Lo and behold, a dog which appeared have been recently flogged, cooked in an oven, and then ravaged by a gigantic animal came barreling toward him. But that might've just been him, once again, hallucinating. It's really far away, he thought. It could just be a stray.
As it approached, however, that wasn't the case. His eyes were open as ever, and were set only on the teeth seemingly piercing the darkness with bright white enamel that reflected the light of the stars. The blur continued to haul towards it's newfound prey with terrifying speed. As it approached, Robert must have been going nuts, but it appeared to be missing a flank from its right side, revealing a rib cage, and a whole patch of skin from the basin of its jaw under its' head around the top of its' skull.
By going into shock and awe, he realized he was still only halfway through the gate, and with mouth wide open, was almost drooling in stupidity. His struggle had just taken a step up in pace, and adrenaline was pouring into his veins. He slammed his jaw shut, and he threw himself onto the other side of the fence. He was sitting on the ground momentarily, and his breathing was lightning fast panting. Just as he managed to make it through, the predator slammed dumbly into a large portion of the outer edge of the hole Robert had climbed through, making it stumble stupidly to the side for a moment.
This is one Hell of a night, he thought, shaking his head in utter disbelief at what he realized was actually chasing him. It was a nightmare come true, and what's worse, he could swear he heard the far-off rustle of even more coming his way.
At the expense of a few cuts, his temporary safety was worth it, because from the looming shadows beyond the fence, under a large scatter of low-bent trees... Shadows, everywhere. What's worse, the other dog had just regained its' composure after smacking itself into the fence, and was about to make its way through the hole.
He wasted no time in making his way towards a safe-haven, be it his house, someone else's house, or a tree to climb up into... Any would do fine at this point.
**************************************************************
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Posted: Mon Jun 23, 2008 4:05 pm
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*****************************
Shaking his head to try and shake the panic, he took a final deep breath and bolted to the other side of the fence -- away from his home... It wasn't safe there anyway.
He ran faster than he ever thought he could run, his heart was being so fast he was sure it would burst before he found sanctuary. He was pretty damn sure this was it for him... He could read the headlines... "MAN DEAD RUNNING FROM BOOGY-DOGS". If he wasn't so out of breath he would have laughed. There was something so bizarrely funny about the situation. In fact, he could just feel his heart start to fail on him...
When he saw a house... A Mansion, really... he didn't care. All he knew was that he had found some kind of sanctuary. There were no doors he could see...
That's alright, I'll run around this son of a b***h until I find a door.
Then he frowned.
But what if the door's locked?
What if there are more of these dogs in there?
What if it's the house of the people who broke into your place?
Who the hell cares. There's a phone in there, and maybe even a pair of shoes I can borrow.
His running had slowed some, his chest on fire from the strain of exercise. When he rounded the corner to the mansion, he gazed up at what was one of the most frightening looking buildings he had ever seen. The huge front double-doors must have been twice his height, with large brass handles....
Well, here's to hoping Old Jeeves has the day off...
He entered, slowing his breathing as he looked into the grand Foyer of the Mansion...
the Forgotten Spencer Mansion.
*****************************************************
((Go to town, kids!!!))
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Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 4:52 am
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((I'm just gonna kinda move it along alittle more.))
****************************************************************
As he stared at the magnificent grand Foyer, a stench slowly filled his nostrils. He gagged for a brief second before covering his mouth, in a small attempt to make sure he didn't vomit.
He uncovered his mouth and used his hand to cover his nose as he headed to the door on the left. He pushed the door open slowly, the horrible aroma getting stronger. He stared in awe at the dining room, it was huge and even had a fireplace.
He moved further into the room, stopping in shock at what he saw next to the fireplace. There was a small puddle of dried blood and a....
Oh God. He thought, in too much shock to utter a single word. There, next to the fireplace, was a decaying body. This time he couldn't stop it, he doubled over, his hands on his knees as he vomited. It took what seemed like an hour before he finally stopped. He wiped his mouth, trying to catch his breath, but catching only the awful stench of decaying flesh.
*************************************************************
((Not my best work, but I'm doing this after being awake all night, so go figure.))
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Posted: Sun Jul 27, 2008 11:38 am
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Posted: Fri Aug 01, 2008 4:28 pm
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((I'm sorry I've been away so long Notte. I missed ya, along with the whole team. I'm trying to recover from writers' block, so maybe this'll help me out.)) mrgreen
*************************************************************
Fading in..... or out....
His mind was slipping into the nether of dreams, no worries in this place known as sleep....
He was walking through a long hallway of glass tubes... All were glowing a very faint neon green... It was mystifying to watch these blur as he seemed to float by them, without a care.
And the nightmare began, interrupting his blissful journey through his mind... or was it? Flashes of an extremely robust figure, standing some 8 and a half feet tall, with gray-toned flesh and appearing to be rotting, had slapped him out of his trance. Reality had kicked the door open. It was a thing; something words could not describe the disgust of when looked upon... It was simply disturbing... Maybe it was because of the fact that its' heart was on the outside of its' body, or perhaps it was because of the sheer scale that it possessed....
"Ahh, uhh, no... nooo...." he whimpered in his sleep, waving his arms around drunken-like. The thing was coming towards him, and there was nowhere left to run... He was caught up in the end of the hall, tendril arms at its' side... It approached with a maddeningly-loud roar, and a burst of speed one would not think possible, and then....
"GAH! OOFF NO NO NO, I DON'T WANNA DIE!!" he screamed, sweating bullets which tinged his skin with red and chilled his very soul. His panting was outrageously fast. He turned and jutted his head in every direction, making sure the coast was clear, that there were no other signs of life or any disturbance in the same room...
It was clear...... for now.
His sigh of relief was almost just cast to the wayside, in replacement of more terror. He heard a tremendous clash of china, sprinkling ceramic on the other rooms' tile floor.
'For godssake, why me?' he thought.
There were no breaks from the occurances of this house, as well as the disaster zone that lay outside already. He stopped his breathing and dog-like pant for bewilderingly loud silence.... Every second fell away as slowly as the beads of sweat rolled from his brow, around his nose, over his lips, and slipping off of his chin... He wanted nothing more than to break that deafening absence of sound....
And CRANG! Another clash, and he shook like a leaf. Then out of nothing, as if inspired by some outer force, by some whim that was sick of all the s**t going on around him, his brow furled and he was just downright pissed off.
What more could happen? I've been chased by zombie dogs, and run out of my home by some dumbass hobos. What next, a giant purple people eater?
He got up from his comfy little couch on which he lay... He got up with a certain amount of hardened zeal, confident in what he was about to embark on: figuring out what in the world was going on. He'd get to the bottom of it, no matter what.
He took one step, and then thought to himself... 'What the hell was that thing......
....Was it just a dream or.... It just... felt so real... No, delusions won't help me get out of here now. Stick to the plan... Guh, I need a weapon though.'
He closed in on the door which led to the next room, opened the door slowly, and found the broken ceramic. But he could barely see a thing; just the glimmer of the glaze sparkling from the surfaces of the china. He needed the lights, cuz it was absolutely dark. 'A light switch,'he thought...
As he was looking around the room, still looking in from the cracked doorway, he spotted a flashlight on the floor. He scratched his head at how odd it was to have randomly found this item just strewn on the ground, but he didn't care. He needed light. One last thing, to make sure he knew no one else was here, he closed the door behind him. If it was open when he returned.... But he most likely wouldn't go back.
And as he flicked on the switch, the torch lit up the room: Robert had a bad feeling about this...
*************************************************************
((I hope you enjoy toying with the next part.)) cool
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2008 9:09 am
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Posted: Thu Oct 16, 2008 6:13 pm
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**********************************************************
With all in complete disarray, he honestly couldn't stand the presence of shattered ceramic strewn on the floor. He REALLY needed something to eat, and his was only a short distance away: across the hall was a bathroom.
'Oh God please... I just need a shower, for cryin' out loud,' he thought, looking back for a moment at the shiny floor. His 5 o'clock shadow had caught up with him. '...and a shave.'
His wish was granted. As he strolled in, he found before him an old fashioned curtain-rung bathtub with a plug for a shower attachment. He was so happy, the towel wrapped around his waist, which had already begun several times to slowly work its' way off his body, almost fell completely off. He withdrew from his stupor just enough to realize it and caught it before it hit the ground, and looked around in case someone had caught a glimpse of... Well, you get the picture.
As he reached for his towel though, he realized that he had dropped the empty shell of his useless 9mm pistol. When he went to pick it up, a tile on the floor just didn't seem to be in place.
The corners around it were missing cocking, which meant it could easily be extracted from the embedding of the floor. He contemplated the situation, trying to decide if he should expect another trap, or just open it to see what was inside. 'Whatever happens happens I guess.'
With a "Why-the-hell-not?" sort of shrug, he flipped the tile over, and he must've flung it pretty hard, because it knocked against the wall and came crashing down. That scared him more than what he discovered was under the dusty, cob-webbed floor, though. He couldn't believe his eyes. Being that each square tile was about 10" 1/2 on each side, there must've been about 10 magazines of three different kinds of bullets. As far as he could tell, only a few were for 9mm, but 'Jeez, what freakin' luck!' he exclaimed openly.
He got down to examine which magazine went to his gun, and after all had been organized into piles on the floor, he found the hole went down for about a foot and a half and, lo and behold, at the very bottom with a plastic cover, something shining dimly at the bottom: a red button. Dare he push it?
'Why not? I've gotten this lucky, but some food might be nice.' As he reach down to press the button "...and behind door number two we have..." he whispered.
He heard a hydraulic release hiss, and the mechanical click-clack of several hinges release and something very surprising happened indeed. The tub, shower curtains and all, dropped from view, closing shut with a blank section of floor, covering up where the tub was sitting at one point...
His eye twitched in sheer disbelief... 'What the f%#k?....'
"Nrrghh I GAHHH, WHY ME?!?!1" he shouted furiously. Before he started to scramble around and go apeshit in anger, he heard another set of whirs and chinks, and a final hiss unveiled a hidden section of wall on a swivel that revolved into the room, replacing the wall that stood behind where the shower was just moments before.
His jaw dropped like he'd seen the most amazing thing in the world. What lay in front of him was not just a set of clothes complete with comfortable running socks and combat boots, military grade A leather; no... He had just stumbled upon a hidden supply armory. All a soldier ever needed was at his disposal now.
His pulse was high enough to cause his hands to shake with uncontrollable excitement. His eyes swam around, and couldn't rest upon a single item on the hidden storage compartment. Slowly as he settled back to normal, there lay in front of him a SAW, a TMP Auto-pistol, a high-powered rifle with scope, a plethora of assorted handguns, and grenades ranging from flash bang usage to incendiary. As tempting to go straight for these was, his glance shot straight to a box with white spray-painted lettering on it: Water/Food Reserves. He smacked a box on top of it aside, and dug into the bags of reheatable food. His friend had shown him these one time. Grabbing the lid off of the box, he clamored through bags in search of his one and only craving: Ravioli... and boy, did it deliver.
He threw off his dirty shamble of a towel and geared up. As he sat down to grab his food and stuff his face, he looked at the door very forebodingly. 'I don't wanna be caught in the midst of a meal, and then jumped by one of those stinky hobo's again. Better close and lock the door.'
*slam! *sit! *nomnomnom...
Break time was over, and his energy was about him again. He felt upright and ready to take on the world. His last preparations included picking the right guns that he could handle, and setting a weight limit. He grabbed some concussion grenades, chose the automatic pistol and a rifle that had been put into a padded box which he moved out of the way of the supply box. His backpack was only carrying the essentials: extra food in case he couldn't return (or didn't have to, and had managed to escape), medical gauze, first-aid spray and bandages with pain killers, and a belt strapped to his backpack lined with a certain amount of types of grenades. He had lined his pockets with extra clips of ammunition.
"Lock and load" he whispered. It was quite comical, him trying to look super tough and badass. "I've always wanted to say that," he chuckled to himself.
He stepped forward on his journey out of this hell-hole and realized that his stuff was still overweight. His movements resembled that of a wobbly first-timer pilot of a mech suit. It would've been hysterical to watch if anyone had been there to see. So he lost a few packs of food in replacement of keeping the water only, and threw his rifle over his back. A pistol was kept in-hand, all check's had been done, and there was just one last thing that concerned him about his pistol, along with the rest of his range of armaments and gear....
"Uhhh... s**t, how do you work this thing?"
**********************************************************
((Going in and out of the story gives me enough time to think about what to write, but I think I lose my bearings on what I felt was happening and how it should've happened before. I hope I did a good job on furthering the story a little bit. Please, if any undesirable details have been added, or you'd like something else of significance added, do tell me what it be. Thanks Notte. :3))
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Posted: Thu Oct 30, 2008 5:14 am
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((I'm so happy to have this thing going again!
Oh, and I'm adding another rule... people who contribute, you can only write about the main character of the story and what he's doing. I'm going to throw in a couple familiar faces in an off-screen kind of fashion. I don't want anyone else to do that. Think of it as a DM privilege. Savvy? ))
************************************
"Alright, so... Gun mechanics 101.... Erm...." He looked at the still locked door and blinked. Knowing he had at least a few minutes, he sat down on the floor and began to examine the pistol in his hand. I suppose all I really need to know is how to shoot and how to reload... The clips in his possession were thankfully loaded, but he wasn't quite sure how to put them in.
Once he located the magazine release, everything else was a cake walk. He stood up, and caught his reflection in the mirror. Tactical armor? Guns? Ammo?
"What the ******** is happening to me..."
~~~~~~
The smirk on his face was suck there, glued on. What unbelievable luck that someone had practically stumbled upon his little playground. He looked at his watch.. it was 10pm. Most of the super's had gone home for the evening, and he wasn't about to call and wake them up. This was too good of a show to let them ruin it.... He wanted to see just how long this poor sap (who couldn't even seem to use a gun) would survive in the old mansion.
Yes, Albert Wesker thought... this is going to be an interesting night.
~~~~~~
***********************************************************
((So is everyone cool on the new rule? If you post, state yes or no, if you need clarification.
heart ))
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Posted: Thu Oct 30, 2008 10:12 pm
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**********
Robert continued to look at the mirror, still wondering if this was all a dream. I mean really, all of this stuff conveniently just laying around here? Also those strange hobos and zombie like dogs... He sighed and wiped the thought from his memory. His cut from the entering through the fence was bandaged up, though it was a sloppy job, but then again he was never really good at that first aid stuff.
Taking in a deep breath and and exhaling he made a mean face, as if he was pretending to look macho." Bah who am I kidding? It's not like glaring at those dogs are going to anything," he said to himself, while frowning in the mirror. He finally decided to go out and see what kind of mansion he had stumbled upon. One thing was for sure though, this mansion was creepy, being in the middle of no where in a forest.
He went back out into the hall, with the pistol in his hand. He pointed the gun at every direction, even down at the bottom. At this point and time he wanted to make sure he checked everything. He's seen too many horror movies, which the person that usually just look left, right, and forward always got killed. Finally seeing that the place is clear, though still creepy with only a few candle lights to light the entire place, he decided to check how many doors there were.
**********
((I'm ok with it, since not many people can actually understand the storyline characters, also this is your fan-fict. However, I think it would be cool if you added some other characters that were made up. Like for example maybe added your own avi in there for a certain amount of time, after all he shouldn't feel too lonely out there. Even though this is a fan-fict I think the concept of having the story being about two people like in the other resident evils is probably a bit better, but that's just me. I seriously think another person should in their to help him, after all there my be certain obstacles that need two people.))
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Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 8:36 pm
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***********************************
Reeling about in a constant state of defense, he almost dizzied himself. His actions were somewhat like a dog trying to chase its' tail.
He stopped, and decided to move forward to a large staircase, which branched out to an upstairs. He reached the top, and gazed at a large wall with a mosaic. It was a normal wall, until he studied it a tad bit closer, and realized the large handle was to a door. It was a rather massive, momentous door, being it was made of stone. Dare he open it? What lay on the other side could only be found out one way: to go through...
Pistol raised, safety off, full clip loaded and readied, he pulled the handle and...
***********************************
((Main characters would be epic. Bring 'em on!! > biggrin
Honestly, I've had writer's block. I apologize Notte. Hopefully, we can keep some momentum this time. I rather enjoy writing for this when I get the chance. mrgreen ))
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Posted: Sun Nov 23, 2008 11:35 pm
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*****************************************
Nothing... Just the simple sound of a calming, yet chilling, whooooooossshhhh hiss of the wind. The outside had a portion of steps which led to the rest of the surrounding estate, and empty forest.
He continued down cautiously and consistently observing his surroundings, making sure what he saw one second didn't move or disappear the next. Pistol aimed in his line of sight, he reached a small gated walkway. It appeared to be a large crypt-stone of some sort. He examined the headstone more closely to find a small engraving that was deeper than the rest, but disregarded it. He needed to move on and if not get out of the backyard, then at least secure it and head back into the mansion. Going back out into the forest unprepared and unaccompanied surely meant a death wish.
He turned around to encounter guttural moans emanating from... 'What, another stinking hobo?! Leave me alone, I'm busy trying to get outta here!' he shouted. His head was slouching, as he limped ever closer; it's just that there was something very unusual about his steps. They were un-calculated and spontaneous, and since there was a light in the yard, he could make out his details even more clearly: clothes were tattered, nothing wrong there; hair was in shambles, check; except the last thing he discovered about his appearance made Robert go cold: 'What the f....'
Where there was supposed to be a jugular vein and windpipe, there was nothing but a bloody void. He should've been dead due to such injuries, yet here he stood now stalking Robert.
With no time for second thoughts, he took a shot to it's stomach: nothing, not even a stumble. He aimed higher, with the monstrosity still lurching forward, around the torso/chest area: two shots, and still nothing. One bullet even his it squarely where the heart should've been, and it simply stumbled from the force of the blast. He started backing up in desperation to buy a second or two more to take an aimed shot, as it still limped unhindered toward its' prey.
Slowly, he worked the sight of the 9mm up to it's head, and fired. The hobo was motionless, and his body slumped into the ground with an ugly ka-poot. 'What the f**k indeed. I need to be more careful. There could be more of these guys, but still... What could've turned all of these people into mindless, and I'd hate to even suggest this... zombies?!'
Unfortunately, that was just the beginning of his nightmares. Time would only make his situation a little more...
...crimson.
*****************************************
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2009 10:44 am
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((WARNING: This post never happened! Just read the OOC a few posts up. sweatdrop but I really didn't want to delete it.))
************************************************************
Three men sat gathered around a poker table in the east wing of the Umbrella Residence adjacent to the Spencer Mansion. Two of the men, Scott and Alias from security, were outfitted in hazmat suits, with the exception being Peter the Keeper. Peter was told he needn't wear the hazmat suit anymore, because it was believed that the chafing from the suit was irritating his skin. His back was severely swollen, and the doctors had cultured the skin before bandaging it. Peter was sweaty and itching horribly. but he was advised by the doctors not to scratch as not to further inflame and irritate the skin. He was doing his best to adhere to their recommendations. The only reason Peter was even here right now was because the Mansion had been under elevated security precautions due to the accident in the basement lab which had occurred four days earlier. And now the Mansion had been completely quarantined for decontamination, so most all of the employees were sent to the Umbrella Residence for the time being. Peter's eyes glared at Scott from just above his hand of cards as he listened to the security guard going on and on about company contracts and other mumbo-jumbo.
Great... feeling like s**t, stuck here on my day off, and now this... Scott's life story. Why don't you talk about something relevant? Maybe about the little accident in the basement lab? How about how none of us are allowed to leave the estate grounds? Or how we can't even make a damn phone call? Perhaps about how ridiculous you two look in those space suits right now? I just want to be away from here... with Nancy, but I'm stuck here with the company man. Look at 'im. Yapping on and on. Man, is he ugly...
"... he started himself way back beyond this new contract, ya see what I mean? Ya know what's good for the goose is, ya know, not good for the gander in this case... see what I mean?"
"Yeah." Alias replied as he stared at his hand. "I've been out of touch for so long that I haven't really talked with anyone about these subjects for a while."
"Boy, it's too bad that you couldn't have been to that one meeting down there..."
"Yeah." Alias replied as he tossed a thick amount of poker chips into the pool. "I bet 75."
"You're bluffin' your a** off, Alias!" *PHFFFT!* Peter shouted with a crude pass of flatulence. "Call."
"Really, but I'll tell ya... the guys that we know of are taking money and advantage, and the ones who don't participate are not going to get their money back. The company isn't going to give away money, they're only gonna give it to the ones if they're forced to--"
"Yeah, I can't believe they're still keeping that, because they're very much interested in it."
"We got this little thing in our mail the other day about being able to sign away your pension rights, ya know... if you're killed. Now, I've seen this happen, and before we signed and even before this transfer we had, ya know, if you don't got a clear procedure here..."
"Right."
"So I'm calling the attorney and asking him about this one, 'cause I think it ought to be notarized, and you should have a signed copy too. It disturbs me, ya know, even after you're dead, you can't do nothin' about it. You know, your wife is left with a hell of a problem. Like, if you sign that thing and then they give it to--"
*Ahem*
"... then what's gonna happen to it from then on, know what I mean?"
"Well..."
"I have eighteen thousand dollars. I just got my thing, uh, my information from Umbrella the other day."
"Yeah, I think I have about ten or eleven thousand dollars."
"The maximum is ten percent."
"Yeah."
"It sounded like a good deal to me at the time."
"Scott! Quit being an a*****e! Hurry up and discard! Are you in or what?"
"Oh! Uhh..." Scott trailed off as his eyes darted between his cards and the pool. "Fold."
"Alright, show 'em" Peter smiled as he laid his hand down face-up on the table. He had three of a kind. "Read 'em and weep. Three kings."
Alias smirked as he saw Peter's hand. He neatly laid his own hand down face-up on the table in reply. It was four Jacks and an Ace of Spades. "Four of a kind - Ace high."
"s**t!"
"Ha ha ha!" Alias laughed as he scooped up the pool.
"Gah!" Peter scoffed as he began to itching the back of his neck angrily.
"Aw, don't get all worked up Pete. It's just the first hand. Relax."
"Don't tell me to relax!" Peter snapped back angrily. He really couldn't understand why these guys seemed to be so indifferent and unconcerned about the situation they were in. What Peter was mostly concerned about though was if any of the higher-up's had found out that some of the dogs had escaped from pen that he was assigned to watch over yesterday. Maybe that was the reason for the whole lockdown, and if it came back to him, he was a dead man.
Suddenly, Scott's radio began going off. *BLEEP* *BLEEP* *BLEEP* "Aw, s**t. They're pagin' me." "Hey, we're on break! It's not our shift!" Alias protested. They hadn't even gotten through a couple hands of poker yet. "Hold on." Scott replied as looked down at his pager. "They're callin' us over. There's been a security breach." Scott said as he abruptly sprang from his seat and dashed over to his rifle, which was leaning up against the wall.
"Huh?"
"Security breach! The hidden supply armory in the Mansion."
"Wait, did someone get into it? How the hell could anybody get in there? How the hell could they get through security?!?"
"s**t man, I don't know! I don't know what the hell's going on! Let's just go! If it's an intruder, they aren't to leave the premises!" Alias then sprung from his seat and scooped up his own rifle, before the two security guards bolted out the door together. Peter watched them as they disappeared behind the closed door. He was left alone in silence.
*POW!*
"Ahh!" Peter shrieked, startled by the sudden loud bang as he jumped out of his chair in a defensive reflex. But breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was only Scott, who had just kicked the door back open. "Pete, you gonna be alright in here by yourself?"
"I'm fine, dammit! Just get the hell out of here!"
Scott got the hell out of there.
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((My plan was to have Robert stumble upon an Umbrella researcher, and they'd try to escape the mansion together while fighting monsters and avoiding traps, all while trying to escape from the Umbrella security staff, and the researcher would eventually get shot and killed toward the end, which would tie it all into Keeper's Diary from RE1 where he mentions a researcher getting shot to death as he tried to escape the estate. But that would also require pushing the date of this story back too. So just disregard this post as a 'what if' scenario. Not like anybody will be reading this anyway.)) |
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