Clover
Junior Member
Eats red seeds for breakfast.
Posts: 81
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Post by Clover on Feb 8, 2011 10:00:34 GMT -8
''Yep. A boring place.'' She said still with her arms crossed and looking to the Lumbermill. Then sudenly she looked to some bushes that were a bit far away. ''OH, do you hear that?'' She pointed there trying to make Emily hear the non-existent noise.
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Post by Emily Wyatt on Feb 8, 2011 19:59:00 GMT -8
Emily turned her attention to the bushes Clover was looking at and stepped forward to peer a bit closer.
"No I don't hear anything but with the surrounding woods it could just be a deer-"
Her statement cut off when she heard Clover's fast paced run towards the mill. She was making a break for it! Well not on Emily's watch! Emily took off after Clover and was hot on her heels even though she had a rather large head start.
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George Woodman
Junior Member
I won't rest until I've inspected every suspicious nook and cranny!
Posts: 94
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Post by George Woodman on Feb 10, 2011 13:31:28 GMT -8
George heard the yell. Foolish prey, giving away your position already? You're making this too easy..." He thought. Morgan was right as he wanted him: scared, unsure and easy to find.
He made himself scarce afterwards. The axe drag ceased as soon as Morgan yelled out and was replaced with complete silence.
----
As Morgan wandered the endless hallways, he would hear the sound of hacking against flesh along with the sound of a woman screaming. With each hack of flesh, blood would spurt from the walls. These sounds would get louder as Morgan got closer to the end. At the end would lie a room with only a few puddles and some dead bodies. Along with a message in bright red:
"CAESAR HAS MARKED YOU FOR DEATH, FRANCIS YORK MORGAN"
George waited in the shadows for the prey to fall into the trap.
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Post by Francis York Morgan on Feb 11, 2011 20:09:21 GMT -8
York's head snapped up at the sudden vacuum of silence. He tilted his head, but the sound didn't return. Flashlight still extended, he headed warily into the darkness. There was no other choice, except to retreat, and that was no choice at all.
"Did my ears just pop, Zach? Where'd it go?"
<Gone. Take a right here.>
The voice was flat and no-nonsense, indicating that something was definitely rotten in Denmark. York slid round the corner, preceded by the gun and light, and that's when the woman began to scream. The sound, high and harsh as a tea kettle, echoed round the narrow metal corridor and faded with a tinny shriek. Below it, continuing even after the scream had dissipated, was the unmistakable repetition of meat being bludgeoned.
York whipped the gun around and aimed, futilely, at dark nothingness. Something wet sprayed across his cheek, the back of his hand; he twisted his head away and began to run in the direction of the hideous noises. Splashing accompanied each footfall, as if water was covering the floor, but even in his concentration, there was something off about the quality of the sound... More spray hit his legs as he ran... Had the walls sprung a leak? In the erratic beam of the flashlight, only a mottled mosaic of red and black was visible. At some point, without either of them exchanging a word, Zach had taken over. He'd always been better at navigation and combat, even despite the slight weakness in his left eye. He hadn't taken more than three more turns in the mill's maze of corridors when the screaming and the hacking both stopped; abruptly, as if a radio had been switched off. At the same time, the flashlight beam struck something solid.
A dead end. Literally.
Zach approached the untidy pile at the base of the wall, then slowly moved the light over the crimson lettering above. As his hand came into view, he noticed cursorily that the wrist and sleeve were streaked with gore. The leaking water has been more sinister after all. He stood there for a moment, reading the message, and then some spark of intuition made him spin against the wall, scanning the area with the flashlight, bloody water and a trace of purple mist swirling around his shoes. The gruesome tableau responded with absolute silence.
"Zach?" It was still York's voice, although he was not in control. "Denmark's more than rotten. It's growing legs and climbing out of the refrigerator as we speak..."
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