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Who: Maraich, Mr. Wendigo Survivor Extraordinaire, OPEN
What: Maraich enters a post-apocalyptic world
When: October?
Where: A world like "The Walking Dead" but isn't necessarily the same (I've only seen the games)
Warnings: Zombie survival world

Maraich didn't know where exactly he was. It was like a dream - he was convinced that it was for a while - before he woke up in an alleyway. When he opened his eyes he assumed he was still on his world somewhere. Maybe he'd been drugged and taken. Thankfully, he still had his clothes on. His fingertips brushed the necklace he was wearing, something that was supposed to be an 'artifact' but also felt surreal. It couldn't be real. This was just some messed up scheme to get at Bancoran, probably. First things first, he needed to figure out where he was.

He climbed to his feet and walked over to the entrance of the alleyway. It looked sort of like an American town, maybe, though that seemed rather far for someone to take him. He didn't recognize it. There was a cool chill in the air, enough that he could see his own breath. The stores on this street were small, and he could see a gas station down on the corner. The homes were modern enough, maybe a few decades old and showing some wear and tear.

Normally he would have sought out information quickly, but the entire place struck him as wrong. It wasn't the style of buildings that threw him off Many shop fronts had busted windows, plants were overgrown, and the most disturbing thing was that it didn't look like the cause was a city overrun by crime. He didn't see any people walking around, nor did he hear any hints of life. It was deathly silent and still. Something was seriously wrong and he put up his defenses immediately.

His heels clicked lightly and slowly on the cement as he ventured out. Stores appeared to be completely looted, homes were boarded up by broken into anyway. He spotted blood in certain spots, sometimes excessive amounts, but no bodies.

He spotted someone fumbling in the distance but he didn't call out. Just by watching its gait he could tell something wasn't right, and he wasn't about to trust anything he saw when the town was in this state. The shambling thing meandered around without any clear intentions, like there wasn't any thoughts to where it was going or why. Instinctively, his hand slipped to his hidden throwing knives and pulled them out. He didn't know what was going on but he sensed a very real threat.

Food. Water. Shelter. He organized what he needed immediately in his mind. Getting back to Ban would have to come after he survived and got out of here. Maybe he could make it to the next city and find some help. Without a word and ears and eyes open, he crept up to the nearest shop and scanned the inside through the large, shattered display window. The shelves seemed to be bare, but he did spot something that was missed. A vending machine was tucked in the corner, with drinks still inside of it. Sports drinks, water, tea. It was beaten but not open - someone obviously had tried and couldn't get into it. But that someone wasn't a professional like him.

Hopping over the window, he cautiously made his way towards the machine.

[OOC: Feel free to start a thread with your own prompt if you want! This is open for all, survival horror.]

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"It's a bit awkward, but you can have it if you want."

He personally didn't prefer the way it was balanced, but they had a limited selection of weapons and he had no reason to keep him from taking it. Taking a precise jab, he banged it on the corner of the vending machine with a loud clang. The air between the panes of glass acted as a cushion, but it was less effective in the corner. It cracked slightly, though it was tougher than expected. Glass was certainly built sturdier than it used to be.

He gave it another swing and the first pane shattered. Webs worked their way up from the bottom corner as he struck again to take out the second pane. Pieces of glass fell to the floor in pieces. He set the bar to the side, grabbed a cloth and started pulling larger pieces away until he could get inside better. The entire process was pretty noisy, but he planned on leaving soon anyway. If they were stuck here for any amount of time they'd need a safe place to sleep, and this wasn't it.

But he didn't have much of a bag himself. His eyes scanned the area for a second before he grabbed some plastic baggies and started filling them with drinks.

"How many do you think you can carry?"

"Hey if it works it works."

Another thing events prior to now had taught him was that you just didn't want to be caught with nothing. Mike figured if he could handle machetes and guns and wendigos with no practice, he could handle an awkward bar. Of course, he was maybe overconfident.

The noise from breaking the glass on the machine made him feel a bit uneasy. Whatever was out there, they could probably hear it, and maybe they would come back to collect what they'd missed. Tough as he acted he wasn't ready for that. So while the other guy started moving away the glass and filling up a bag, he looked around them for any sign of something coming.

"Oh, uh, I don't know. Are we talking for the long haul or do you think we can find some place to hide it?"

"Both, I guess. There's a lot here to just be carrying it around, but maybe we can move it somewhere safe to get it later."

Leaving it there, someone else might walk by and take them. Or the building could become dangerous... He'd rather move them somewhere that they could go back to whenever they wanted, somewhere where nothing would happen to them.

"Maybe we could put the extras on the roof for now? No one would know they're there, and they should be safe."

He was pulling them out, intent on moving all of them, whether setting them down elsewhere or taking them along. With a pile in his arms he stepped out of the building, but that was where he found things had changed. The stumbling thing he'd seen before seemed to be headed in their direction. It was still a distance away, but when he glanced to the other side he saw another one fumbling out of an alleyway. They seemed slow, and neither were exceptionally close, but seeing that they were most definitely headed towards the store was creepy.

He glanced up at the roof of the store. It was only one story, not exceptionally tall. It wouldn't be too hard to find a way up, and they didn't look like they were much for climbing. For a second he forget about Mike and was about ready to do things on his own when he took a step back and glanced in the store.

"We've got... some things headed this way. They look slow, I think we can get this all out of here."

"Well whatever, I'll carry whatever you've got." Or whatever he was given. At this point he wasn't sure he cared. The roof though, that wasn't a bad idea as long as whatever was out there couldn't climb. At the same time, if they couldn't, and other people had found that out, who was to say they wouldn't steal the supplies?

If there was any people still out there ...

Mike shook off his thoughts and stuffed whatever was leftover in a thick black garbage bag. He smashed open the money box inside the machine too. There was obviously little use for money, but he always wanted to try that.

Anyway, by the time he joined his companion, it was plenty easy to see they were no longer alone. "Oh shit ... shit! What the hell are those?" Perhaps he sounded more stressed than he should, but altogether he was pretty traumatized and exhausted still. "Zombies?" You had to be kidding him. He was literally transported to a zombie flick. "Come on, let's go. And hope they stay slow."

He turned and started walking at a quick pace, although he paused for a few seconds to look back. "I'm Mike, by the way."

He hoped it wouldn't tire out Mike too fast carrying all of that stuff, but he wasn't about to stop him. He didn't hand over everything he had. He could handle carrying some, and he'd rather do that than weigh Mike down more.

"Maraich. Let's hurry and find a high spot that they can't navigate."

At least by their demeanor he doubted they'd be able to. They moved like they had forgotten how to walk, fumbling forward at a sluggish pace. It would be nice to go into a house, but who knew if going somewhere they could normally get to like that would be safe? They needed something higher, something that didn't have a way to get to it without effort or thought. An attic would work but could trap them. Roof was better, but left them open to the elements, and by the chill in the air he doubted it stayed warm at night.

They'd just have to look.

"Tell me if you have trouble keeping up," he said quickly before going into a full run. They needed to spot a good location, fast, and they wouldn't get it by waiting around. On the other hand, he had no intention of leaving Mike behind if he couldn't keep up the pace. If they had to, they would climb up whatever was available.

Maraich was seriously underestimating Mike if he thought carrying a bag of drinks was going to wear him out. And for now? He wasn't going to attempt to repeat that name. It was pretty weird. He'd at least remember it.

Maybe they should have grabbed more than just drinks and a makeshift weapon? But most everything had been looted in the place they just were. To find actual supplies, they may need to go a long, long way. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder briefly to look at the creatures dragging toward them. "Zombies ... they're zombies. Seriously?" At least he'd seen enough films to know what to do about them, but still. If it wasn't one fucking thing it was another.

Mike turned back forward and began to move, following in his own run, although he did raise an eyebrow in Maraich's direction. "You're joking me, right?" Maybe he wasn't the Jock like Matt was but he wasn't unfit either. "Just keep an eye out for a place before we have to start bashing brains in!"

"No offense but... You kind of already look like you've been here for a month."

He was just praying infections wouldn't become a problem. Thankfully, the things were slow, so at the moment they had a chance to find someplace and hide out. They just had to pick a spot that would last, and he didn't like the idea of staying anywhere in the cold.

"Think we could make it to a shopping area? There's usually some flat roofs, and we'd be close to a place where we could scavenge supplies."

Of course he doubted either of them knew the area, but if they just followed larger streets it was likely they'd find some stores soon. An home improvement store would be ideal, he figured, to start with. As they reached the end of the street, he turned to follow the path most likely to take them somewhere.

That didn't mean it would be easy. On the quiet streets lurked many more zombies, which had become quieted without any prey to follow.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, waving the comment off. He knew what he looked like without having to actually look. "That was wendigos, this is fucking zombies." Which was worse? Honestly, he didn't feel like comparing. The good thing about zombies was that you could kill them and not worry about them repossessing anybody. The bad thing about zombies was that they were creepy and ate your brains and were very messy.

Also somehow more unbelievable to him than the wendigos. Like only the movies should have to deal with zombies.

"No idea where the 'shopping area' is? But sounds as good as anything. Let's get going."

He jutted a thumb down one direction that looked pretty clear right now. It was true that any noise they made might rouse more of them. "You have any experience with these things? Like can they see very well or will standing completely still be pointless and stupid?"

"I just got here. Where I'm from, zombies are science fiction." In his mind he mentally wondered if that was true. He'd seen plenty of weird things, though zombies had never made the list. But that didn't mean they didn't exist somewhere...

"What's a wendigo supposed to be?"

Maraich wasn't an uninformed person, but he came from a time before internet in the average household and lived in mansions and major cities in Europe. Wendigo wasn't a term that had really popped up in his life.

He made sure to stay far away from objects as he walked. He didn't get near cars or anything else that could hide zombies, keeping the space around him clear and open. Though he did slow his pace. They couldn't run for hours, and they'd been too fast for the ones behind them. Now it was a matter of making it somewhere - and if they walked far enough they were bound to find a group of stores.

"That's what I thought." He'd thought that about wendigos too, and yet there they were, tearing up his girlfriend.

"It's a creepy, gangly thing that eats people too." Really, they had a fair amount in common with zombies, except that zombies had more of a medical? origin. Either way, Mike didn't want to think on it too long. Someone else could draw up the pie charts about them. "Super fast, but blind as shit."

Meanwhile, he had the urge to kick at cars or knock trashcans (the ones still standing) and crates over to see what was inside them. He refrained, but lamented the potential losses there.

Of course this was far from a perfect world, and even being quiet, they could run into some hungry zombies. They weren't in a dead-ended alley at least, but some of the lumbering creatures seemed to be up ahead of them. "Guess our friends have some back-up." Or there were different zombie turfs and this was just another zombie gang.

"They usually say to go for the head, right? Not sure what we'll do if that doesn't work, but..."

He frowned at the fumbling zombies. There weren't many, and he had some knives he could throw, but he didn't know if they would take them out and he didn't want to lose them. Honestly, he'd prefer to avoid them altogether, but they'd already been spotted and while the zombies were slow he didn't see a way he felt comfortable going around them. One might say to go through backyards, but who knew what else they'd run into in those confined spaces.

He paused to look around them with a frown.

"I wish there was a way to check, but I don't want to lose a knife in the back of a zombie head. If we had one pinned down it'd be no problem." He glanced up at his companion. "So what do you think? Should we risk fighting or make a run for it?"

There weren't many, but if their assumptions were wrong it could be trouble.

"It's gotta work." Why else would all the movies and games make it that way? Apparently lore for wendigos worked, so lore for zombies probably would too. Only one way to find out and Mike wasn't really one for running away ever. Sometimes it worked out really well and sometimes it was a terrible idea.

"Tough luck, we don't have any guns," he said to Maraich with a sort of sigh. Losing a knife wouldn't be good, but dying would be even worse. "Eventually we're going to have to take some of 'em on. So why not do it now?"

While he was still relatively in good shape. At least neither of them were falling over from exhaustion. He hoisted his bag of drinks up over a shoulder and then gripped his makeshift weapon in the other hand, swinging it a couple of times. "Let's do this."

He was a great fighter, but he usually knew what he was dealing with. He didn't like going into a fighter lacking info, but it seemed they would have no choice.

"All right." A knife practically appeared in hand as he flicked it out. "Let's go for the high ground. We can climb on one of the cars and get them straight in the head. And hope that that works, I guess."

If not. Well. They had legs. They'd have to make use of them.

He trotted over to a car and hopped up on the hood, running up and getting on the top. It wasn't an extremely large car but it did give him a height advantage, and he was light enough that the car didn't seem to mind too much. He stayed in the middle to keep some distance before the zombies would reach it, handle firmly gripped, ready to jab it in once he had a chance. It wasn't a lot of fun waiting for the slow, lumbering thing to make it over to him.

"Right.." Mike wasn't really the waiting type either, but he decided to go along with what Maraich was doing. Granted Maraich definitely looked like a lady, but apparently he knew what he was doing when it came to knives. He'd just see how this all went.

But with Maraich up on the car, he followed after. It briefly crossed his mind to go onto a different car, but it might be better to be close to each other if one zombie got particularly grabby or bitey. The vehicle rocked a bit more when he jumped on it as he was quite a bit bigger than Maraich. It creaked and he winced with the sound, but it wasn't like they weren't already coming. He decided to stay down on the hood level. Might have to jump up later.

"This is so fucked up," he muttered to himself, getting the crude rod he had ready. If they could get past this one bunch, they'd be able to run to some safety maybe. Even as the zombies got closer though, he was still and quiet, hoping that maybe they would be dumb like wendigos and keep walking past.

He wished he had a nice spear or something, but one wasn't going to suddenly appear. Luck wasn't on their side as the zombies headed towards them. Even their uneven, brainless movements were unnerving. Maraich was used to assassins and getting into well-thought out fights, so the movements of something that had absolutely no planning behind them were strangely difficult to take in.

On the other hand, they came straight for them. No sudden ducks, twists or turns. He took a step back as they got to the car. Arms up, it directly tried to reach and grab at his ankles, and even when he was on the other side of the roof it was too close for comfort. In an uncharacteristically simple reaction, he took a slight step forward and plunged the knife into the top of its head.

It seemed to have some sort of seizure, but that wasn't enough for him, so he stabbed several more times until undoubtedly the brain must have been scrambled and it slid down the side of the car. It wasn't the only one, but it was the one that was in a good enough position for him to do that.

He glanced over at the other teenager next to him as he backed off, now bloody knife in hand.

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