The Walking Dead Contest Pair

So! I plan on entering

NEW The Walking Dead HARPG Event New info has been added! Lesta is absolutely addicted to The Walking Dead Tv series and therefore I challange you and your HARPG characters to join.... if you dare! Make sure you read everything!

Open - Deadline

30 november 2012 - 28 February 2013

Survivors

The Walking Dead

Basically it's about the world, completely lost by the zombie virus. People are bitten and they will die and wake up as zombies or Walkers, as we like to call them. To participate in this event, you don't have to watch the series. It's just based on the series.

The event

Okay, imagine, the harpg world is infected with the zombie virus. And your human and horse character has to survive. Nothing works like cellphones. Stores are robbed and medicines are rare. Many buildings are either burned down or floaded with walkers. Goal is that you have to last till the end, as human and horse, or as walker and wal

as I'm an avid TWD fan This isn't my main entry, but an introduction of my pair Thomas and Luna that will be taking on the challenge ^^

Horse: Luna
Rider: Thomas

Keep in mind, this is an Alternate Universe, nothing that happens for this competition takes place in my HARPG stable's timeline.

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Thomas dialed Hath's cell phone for what seemed like the hundredth time today. It rang five painstaking times, as always, and then went to her familiar voicemail. He listened through it just to hear her voice, to feel like he had some sort of miniscule contact with her, but when she politely informed the caller to 'leave your name and number and I'll get back to you' he ended the call without a word. How many frantic messages had he already left? Too many to count... Thomas Birch usually kept a collected head on his broad shoulders, but when it came to the woman he loved....if anything had happened to her... He squeezed his weary olive eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a calming breath. It didn't do its job. The air had a tinge to it, a sickening, putrid odor that caused dread to creep back into his mind, reminding him of all the news broadcasts, of the radio announcements that had acted like everything was alright until last night. Last night things had changed. The news broadcasters had a tremble to their rushed voices, urging people to stay indoors and prepare themselves for the worst. Some of them were gone from the day before and one station had even gone off air suddenly just after Thomas heard a woman's scream and a raspy growl from somewhere in the news room. Hathien had covered her mouth at that as she sat on the couch next to him, gasping into her hand and he had pulled her closer, assuring her that he would keep her safe.

Why had he let her go into town? She had stubbornly insisted on getting supplies for one of the farm's horses that had begun to colic. He had stayed behind to watch over it, to walk it while she was gone, but it had been two hours now. The trip should have only taken thirty minutes. He tried to tell himself that she was fine, that traffic was probably bad, people crowding to get supplies from grocery stores and gas stations, but, she would have answered her phone by now. She wouldn't ignore him. He fought the urge to punch the wall of his trailer in frustration and focused on being productive, instead. He had packed bags full of essentials....for both of them, just in case things became too bad. Surely it wasn't anything they couldn't ride out here on the farm. The news hadn't done a good job at informing them, only saying that it was a deadly virus outbreak and that the CDC was working diligently to find a cure. He had called his father in North Carolina not long ago, though, and the seasoned horseman and farmer had told him he thought it was something more....that Thomas needed to prepare himself, to get his guns and ammo and any other weapon he could find and keep them close at hand. That had made him nervous and what made it worse was when he heard his mother's worried voice murmur something to his father in the background. Just after, he heard a sound like the cocking of a gun on the other end of the phone accompanied by his father's voice that was still steady as a rock, "Son, your mother and I love you very much. I have to go....stay safe and be smart." The call had ended before he could respond, a flat dial tone droned back in his ear. He knew he did, but Thomas' father didn't say the words 'I love you' often to anyone, even his own wife. He didn't talk much, in fact, being more of a listener. That had caused him even more unrest, as if he didn't feel like a caged animal pacing with nothing to do, already. Where was she?

Now he packed up the rest of the supplies, anything one would need in a survival kit; bandages, cans of food, matches, flashlights and batteries, ammunition, water canteens....just name it. His father and grandfathers had taught him a thing or two over the years past about being prepared. Growing up on a farm, hunting and fishing, as well as living off the land, had molded him into a practical young man. Where did practicality fit into a deadly virus outbreak, though? How could he avoid it? You couldn't. So...what exactly was he preparing for? His mind was full of doubts and desperate questions, but still he worked mechanically, fitting the most essential supplies inside of the bags as if he had some sort of control over the situation.

Suddenly, a noise at the door of his doublewide called his attention. Was she back?! "Hath!" He exclaimed, running on long legs towards the entrance, but didn't open it right away. Why did it sound like the sickening screech of someone clawing at the painted wood of the door...and....was that...hissing? Heart beating rapidly, he pulled back a curtain and glanced outside, sideways towards the door, and at what he saw, olive eyes widened in panic, knees feeling weak. Outside of his door was not Hathien. He thought it was his neighbor, Mr. Johnson, but, the deformed and rotting flesh, festering and coagulated in blood colored a dark purple....were those the effects of the disease everyone had been talking about? A deep breath and another peek out the window. The man had his trademark suspenders on, complete with Redwing laceup boots and a straw hat, what the old farmer always wore. However, they were stained with what looked to be dried and crusted blood, Thomas noted, his stomach churning. There were large tears in the denim, raw flesh, some bare to the bone, showing through beneath. One arm hung limp, a wrist twisted in an unnatural position. Suddenly the air Thomas was breathing didn't seem to be enough, as he grappled with his thoughts to comprehend what he was seeing, and his chest shuttered, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow.

He had almost become completely consumed in his thoughts, jerked harshly out of them when his long-time neighbor clawed at the door with more vigor, growling deep, almost animalistically, in his throat. Thomas was about to back away, to stumble to his bedroom once more and arm himself, obviously this man wasn't in his right mind, when pale and glazed over eyes locked onto his own startled green. A furious roar ripped from the bloodied throat of the man outside, such a contrast to Mr. Johnson's usual laid-back tone, causing Thomas to skitter backwards in panic, almost losing his balance in the process. He found his feet, then, as the pounding on the door became louder, and ran for his bedroom, searching for the old hunting rifle his father had given him when he'd turned 16. His hands shook almost uncontrollably as he loaded it. What on God's green earth was happening?

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Refs: None, Anatomy is wonky...I know..


TWD (c) AMC and it's creators, this has nothing to do with the series, only my portrayal of the world it's set in.
Art and characters (c)