Post by DT on Mar 25, 2007 11:55:38 GMT -5
The man known as DT approached the building. Behind the nailed up windows peeked beams of light, and though the masses of undead shambled not far from it, he knew it would be the one place he could count on to replenish his supplies before resuming his journey to the location of the next Philosophe Knight operation. His eyes flicker about behind his white, porcelain mask, looking for an entry point.
There! An upper floor, its window open, near enough to another building for access. The other building looked easy to enter, its door swinging loosely, boards, trachcans, cabinets and other large items lying about from a recently destroyed barricade.
His footsteps echoed through the halls of the entry-building, and he stalked through it, heading for the nearest stairway. He turned a corner and almost walked into a swaying member of the undead. It barely seemed to acknowledge him, yet its arms began to raise, in preparation for an attack. DT, used to scenes such as these, avoided the lashing arms, and strode quickly past his attacker, without giving it another glance.
He carefully ascended the staircase, aware that often survivors sabotaged them in order to stop any clever zombies from accessing the upper floors. One step creaked, and threatened to give way, causing DT to skip up the remainder of the stairs, attempting to put the least amount of wieght on them as possible.
He reached a series of windows, looking carefully for the one which would lead him to the access point. After a careful search, he found it. It was time for some fancy acrobatics.
Once he scrambled through the open window of the Necrotech building, he adjusted his mask, and made sure the tape which held his glasses to its porcelain surface was not coming off. He readjusted his bloody surgeons smock, and placed the band of his sports bag more securely on his shoulder. He descended the stairs.
Noise. Voices and footsteps. A male voice—was that a hint of a southern drawl?
DT grew worried; his mask always made people uneasy, and when people were uneasy, the faces and words which flashed across the walls grew more visable and rapid. He tried to block the visions out, and focused on the hallway he was about to enter. The voices were on the left, and he saw the barricaded entry on his right. It was typical that he'd have to approach the people in order to get supplies. Obviously, they'd be there for the same reason he was.
He hoped that they wouldn't be as competitive as the men at the last Lab he'd ventured into, who'd threatened him with shotguns after he discovered and entire case of needles, and refused to share. That had been close, and he'd only been saved after another knight had happened upon them taking potshots at him and had executed them for the crime of Hindrance.
He decided to make his white mask less obvious, and placed his surgical mask over its nose and mouth, giving his face a bizarre, statue-like appearance. He approached the room in which the voices sounded from.
There! An upper floor, its window open, near enough to another building for access. The other building looked easy to enter, its door swinging loosely, boards, trachcans, cabinets and other large items lying about from a recently destroyed barricade.
His footsteps echoed through the halls of the entry-building, and he stalked through it, heading for the nearest stairway. He turned a corner and almost walked into a swaying member of the undead. It barely seemed to acknowledge him, yet its arms began to raise, in preparation for an attack. DT, used to scenes such as these, avoided the lashing arms, and strode quickly past his attacker, without giving it another glance.
He carefully ascended the staircase, aware that often survivors sabotaged them in order to stop any clever zombies from accessing the upper floors. One step creaked, and threatened to give way, causing DT to skip up the remainder of the stairs, attempting to put the least amount of wieght on them as possible.
He reached a series of windows, looking carefully for the one which would lead him to the access point. After a careful search, he found it. It was time for some fancy acrobatics.
Once he scrambled through the open window of the Necrotech building, he adjusted his mask, and made sure the tape which held his glasses to its porcelain surface was not coming off. He readjusted his bloody surgeons smock, and placed the band of his sports bag more securely on his shoulder. He descended the stairs.
Noise. Voices and footsteps. A male voice—was that a hint of a southern drawl?
DT grew worried; his mask always made people uneasy, and when people were uneasy, the faces and words which flashed across the walls grew more visable and rapid. He tried to block the visions out, and focused on the hallway he was about to enter. The voices were on the left, and he saw the barricaded entry on his right. It was typical that he'd have to approach the people in order to get supplies. Obviously, they'd be there for the same reason he was.
He hoped that they wouldn't be as competitive as the men at the last Lab he'd ventured into, who'd threatened him with shotguns after he discovered and entire case of needles, and refused to share. That had been close, and he'd only been saved after another knight had happened upon them taking potshots at him and had executed them for the crime of Hindrance.
He decided to make his white mask less obvious, and placed his surgical mask over its nose and mouth, giving his face a bizarre, statue-like appearance. He approached the room in which the voices sounded from.
