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 To The Death

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Muzical-Echo

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PostSubject: To The Death   Mon Oct 21, 2013 8:36 am

River had been thirteen years old when the world came to a crashing halt. What had felt like overnight to most people, the world went from a modern, fast paced, well-oiled machine of production and evil and dramatics to a chaotic pit of violence, blood and gore. Most claimed it started in southern China and spread before officials could catch it but no one knew for certain. The virus spread so rapidly that it was hard to know one was even infected until it was too late, especially if they attempted to hide it. In the end, it didn’t matter where it started because within twenty-four hours the zombie virus was on every continent on the planet. Within the following three days, every country was infected. Within a month, most of the world had crumbled.




That was nearly eight years ago. Now, the world had rebuilt. It was a skewed, warped version of the previous reality. People lived inside of towns surrounded by high chains and booby traps. Constant watches ensured no zombies made it into the towns. There, behind the walls, normal was once again a possibility. Once again, people had jobs, homes, and families. They worked to take care of themselves and forget about what was beyond the fence.

River wasn’t one of those people. Having watched the whole of his family die, eaten alive by the mob that had broken in, he had survived by running, but in the bloody aftermath of the world, he swore to never run again.

At the moment, he was questioning the logic of that vow.

In the eight years, he had trained hard and grown strong. Five foot seven, he was petite from the starvation he had endured as an adolescent, but he was muscular from the rigorous work that he had put himself through. All hard, lean muscle, he was wrapped in layers of clothes, thick enough to prevent a bit but thin enough not to limit his movements. All of his garments were as gray and bland as the burnt out city he had been raiding. His hair was naturally a beautiful red-gold, but at the moment, it was caked beneath layers of dirty. It looked ratty and gray, as did his skin, covered in the same filth. His eyes were naturally blue, and against the monotonous world, they burnt like cold fire.

In his hands, he held his weapon of choice: a Japanese sword called a katana. After the end, he had gathered as many as he could. Sharpened edges onto display swords and honing proper weapons, he had trained himself with them and to suit them. He moved fast and certainly when he took down an enemy, holding a grace that bordered on dancing.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t dance his way out of this one.

With a sprained ankle, he had a limp that slowed him. Normally, it wouldn’t have been much of an issue, but it had been wretched by one of the undead while he was in the middle of a heavily infected city. While he had put on a good show and run quite a while, the pain was dulling him and the hoard had him backed into a corner. Already, he could feel hope fading, but he still kept a six foot circle cleared around himself, trying to pile them up so that the next wave would have more trouble reaching him. It really was his final stand.  
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Mon Oct 21, 2013 9:01 am

"Go for the head, that's the only way to kill them."

Eight years ago, the world was a beautiful place. Trees and flowers lived happily in the yards and town cities with the humans. Lush green was everywhere. People lived carefree and easy lives. The only thing which stopped it all, was one small outbreak, which quickly took over the world. At the first signs of outbreak, the government was scared and unaware what to do. So they sent int heir troops to combat the vile creatures which plagued the land. Many soldiers died, trying to fight the aggressors, who only wished to consume their bodies. Tyson had joined the corp at 18, fresh out of high school, and in his two years with the corp, he was a strong asset. He helped learn the way to kill them, teaching it to his troops across the globe. But the war raged on and the numbers of the undead increased. The military began to fall back, after their brothers in arms turned from the gruesome battle.

Tyson fought as long as he could, but soon retreated to a village some settlers had created. It was a world from the outside, they had people posted at every point, ready and waiting for the undead to scourge their lands. In a couple months time, no outbreak had occurred in the tiny city, leaving the people to finally feel safe and at peace. With the loss of his rifle and pistol, the now 28 year old man, wielded a crossbow. It was easy for him to make arrows as well as retrieve them from the dead corpses.

But in the peace of the land, there were some who wished to take out their frustration and loss on those who patrolled the forests. So Tyson was tasked with gathering a team, teaching them the military ways of fighting, as well as some he had picked up along the way. "Don't waste your ammo, shoot for the head," he said with his Carolina accent, and his thick southern drawl. As he led the group, some died and turned, but were put down before anymore could change. Tyson had done the honors when others could not take the life of their undead friend. They could not separate the life from what was to what is. Tyson soon found himself on these hunts alone. But honestly, he liked it better this way. There was nobody to slow him down.

As he moved from the trees, he noticed a small town up ahead. He had been there before, but there had never been so many zombies gathering around it. Something must have been going on. Taking out his dagger, he killed a couple zombies who lingered on the outside. As their bodies fell, he moved slowly forward. Eying a ladder from a one story building, he climbed up it, dagger pressed tightly in his teeth. As he made it to the rooftop, he walked towards the edge. It was there he saw the person against the wall and the zombies coming in closer and closer. From this distance, Tyson could not tell if the human was male or female, but either way, they needed saving.

Grabbing his crossbow from his back, he aimed it towards the closest zombie and fired it right into the skull. The arrowhead went straight through and got stuck in the eyeball. As the zombie fell to the ground, a string of arrows attacked the ones around him until Tyson knew he could take the rest on hand to hand. Sliding down the drain pipe, he made his way towards the horde. Slicing and dicing as he moved closer to the human. He picked up his arrows and tucked them back into his quiver as he moved to the boy. "Come with me, I'll get you to a safe place from here." He said as he held out his hand.

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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Mon Oct 21, 2013 9:17 am

River was twenty-one years old. In those twenty-one years of life, this world had taught him one thing: no one cared. When you were at your lowest, no one swooped into save you. When you were outnumbered, no hero arrived on the horizon. When the hoard had you covered, people crept from their hiding places only to flee to somewhere safer. When you were down, that was it. That was the end. You were fucked. He knew he was fucked, so his only goal was to go down swinging.

So, when the first of the zombies fell, he counted it as a fluke. When it repeated, he assumed someone helping from a distance that would keep their distance for their own safety. Before he knew it, there was a figure moving among the undead, taking them down as they focused on him. For his part, River never stopped fight, never stopped hacking them down, one after the next. Each slice was neat and efficient, aiming to behead or gauge through the eye, but it was still slower than the movements of the man that had the advantage of secrecy.

Before he knew it, the only corpses between himself and the man were unmoving, and the other spoke. It had been months since River had last heard a voice, and he almost looked shocked by it. His own vocals were rusted with disuse, and he didn’t quite have the will to clear his throat and struggle to use them. Instead, he lunged past the man to stab one of the undead that had come up behind him.

The man was a face he knew. Out in the red zone, there were a handful of hunters, many individuals that came out to try and make a dent in the population of the six billion undead. Some didn’t acknowledge themselves as hunters. Some did it to keep themselves sane. Others did it for rations of food in towns. Others did it to put specific zombies to rest. Whatever their reasons, they were all known to each other...or at least to River. He studied them, often time from hidden perches in trees or by following them on hunts. He studied them and learned from them, but this was not one of the ones he had much of a chance to study. He knew him both by his bow and the pretty eyes that held a warrior calm. This was an unexpected meeting to say the least.

With the zombie hacked down, he could see more moving in, the occupants of the town steadily lumbering towards the sounds of a struggle, and he knew that they’d have to flee soon. Looking back towards Tyson, he nodded towards the zombies to draw attention to them before shaking his head and taking a few steps towards the edge of town, wanting to see if the other agreed to a retreat.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Mon Oct 21, 2013 9:29 am

Tyson watched as he moved past him, slaying an undead soldier to his six. Quickly he moved with the male, fleeing as more of them started appearing behind cars, buildings and anything else they could climb from. Tyson watched the boy, much younger than he, but definitely a man. He watched as the male leaned to the side, favoring his injured ankle. Tyson could stand it no longer. He knew if they were to run, the boy would not be able to keep up. Quickly he raced to him, grabbing his arm and forcing his shoulders into his side as he squatted down, Tyson slung him over his own shoulders. He carried him this way, fleeing from the zombies with skill and ease. As they made it to a clear area, Tyson released him and let him walk on his own. The male looked around at the trees, searching for others who might have followed. When it was safe and clear, he moved to him. "What are you doin' out here all by yourself?" he asked. He looked to his wounded ankle. "Sit down and let me take a look at ya."

Dropping to a knee once the boy sat down, he pulled his pant leg up to look at the injury. It wasn't too horribly bad. Just a sprain from the looks of it. But it would require care and healing. Pulling a stick off the ground, he placed it against the wound. He tore the sleeve of his shirt off and used it to wrap and tie around the stick, holding it in place. "Where are you headed?" he asked. His accent dripping with each word he spoke.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Mon Oct 21, 2013 9:48 am

River made a sound like a snarl as he was lifted. Feral and vicious, it was a force of will that kept him from fighting. Socialized, he was not. Intelligent, he was. He quickly realized Tyson’s purpose with picking him up, and he did not want to make himself a liability. Being weak was more than shameful enough. To cause trouble to someone  that broke the rules of this world to help him was as far from one of his goals as possible. When he was set down, he continued walking, following in the direction that the other seemed to want to flee. When the man came back towards him, River had his katana sheathed and a dagger in hand. At this point, the worst of the danger was past, but he didn’t want to be unarmed.

The question surprised him and a short laugh escaped him as he shook his head. The sound wasn’t much of a laugh, just a quick burst of air from his lungs, near silent, coupled with the faintest flicker of a smile. He didn’t answer verbally as he shrugged faintly, continuing to limp on. When he was directed to sit down, he stared at the man for a full minute. Looking back towards the town, he knew it was a safe distance away. Looking up into the branches of the tree, he considered something before he sank down, leaning his back into it.  

"Thank you," was his response as the other looked him over. His voice was barely a whisper, wind through leaves that had died seasons ago but refused to fall. Lack of use made his words slow and less than sure, but he still could speak. He knew the wound wasn’t a bite. He knew what a bite felt like. It had just been pulled hard and was tender. He’d be able to walk it off...so he told himself. The truth was he needed rest and badly. He looked malnourished and dehydrated, and it was hard for him to recall just how long he had been fighting.

"Thank you." He repeated the gratitude when his ankle was bandaged. At the question, he leaned forward to pull the satchel from beneath himself and rummage through. The steel was undamaged, and he was quick to open it and drink from it. Offering it to Tyson, he took a moment to breathe and then shrugged again. "No where. You?" It was close enough to the truth.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Mon Oct 21, 2013 10:02 am

Tyson did not drink from his canteen. Instead he stood and listened for any sign of unwanted company. "You need a real doctor. That is only a temporary fix. I am not skilled in that art, but I know someone not far from here, who can help you. You will just have to trust me and follow along." He paused for a moment and remembered the limping. If another rush of zombies came, he would have to carry him yet again. Perhaps it would be better to do so, also stopping from increased injury to happen. Who knew how long this kid had been wandering around like that? Sighing, he helped him up. "I will let you walk, unless it hurts too much. But if more zombies come, I am carrying you. No ifs ands or buts about it, ya hear?" He said as he looked to him and grabbed his crossbow from his back.

As they moved towards the village, Tyson was very alert and ready to kill any zombie. A few had found their way towards them and he killed them almost instantly, pulling the arrows from their lifeless skulls. When they finally made it to the entrance gate, he called to a guard and they opened the doors and let them inside. Once inside, he helped the boy to the doctor's office. They waited in the waiting room until the doctor was ready to see them. She opened her door and gave a smile to Tyson. "Saving people now? I thought you were the zombie killer?" she joked as they walked inside the room. "Go on and sit up there, let me take a look at your ankle." As he sat on the chair, she rolled up his pant leg and looked at the work Tyson had done. "You are getting much better, though this twig would not hold for long." Tyson chuckled as he rested his back to the wall. The doctor looked up to the young man. "What is your name?" she asked with a gentle smile.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Mon Oct 21, 2013 10:14 am

River didn’t like the idea and it showed. He made no attempt to hide his distaste. He didn’t like venturing into the town that he had spent much of his teenage years. Going into a village he didn’t know, weak and seeking help, unnerved him. However, he didn’t look frightened. He looked annoyed and frustrated at the idea. Rising up, he didn’t accept the help, instead keeping his hands busy with another drink from the canteen. Returning it to his bag, he listened to Tyson speak and sighed. Quietly, he prompted, "Did I resist last time?" He hoped that was a good enough acceptance. He knew he should thank him again, it really was proper, but he was not grateful to be dragged somewhere strange while he was hurt.

Watching Tyson as they went along, he once again marveled the use of ranged weapons. He had known for a long time that he wanted to switch what he used, but he never found a decent weapon. Perhaps Tyson could recommend him one. A quiet, hopeful voice chimed that maybe the soldier would even train him to use it. He hoped so, but he couldn’t help wondering where the voice came from. He had thought he had killed it years prior with logic and self-reliance.

River didn’t speak once, even when they waited for the doctor. Following her into the room, he looked it over, just as he had done with each place he entered. Escapes were catalogued and possible dangers were identified. It was habitual for him. Sitting lightly upon the chair, he offered her the wounded ankle. Looking towards Tyson, he wondered who this woman was. He knew little of townsfolk. When his gaze went back to the doctor, he saw her looking at him. For a moment, he struggled with the question, and then spoke one word, "River."

It was obvious how much he didn’t like sitting there, weak and exposed. His hand constantly rested over the hilt of his dagger. He looked ready to strike at the drop of a pin, ready to flee at any excuse. Being in towns made him feel less safe than being in the red zone. In an odd way, the closest thing he had to reassurance was looking towards Tyson, making sure that the fellow hunter didn’t abandon him.

Still, when he spoke his name, he wondered if he’d get a reaction. He was the youngest in the area with such a well known reputation. He had once cleared a whole hospital by himself in the midst of winter. It had saved most of the towns in the area as they were able to access much needed supplies to tend to their ill. Before that, he had been well known for silencing zombies for families, and he was particularly skilled at reclaiming goods from abandoned homes in infected zones. He hoped his reputation proceeded him, if just so they wouldn’t pity him.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Mon Oct 21, 2013 10:43 am

"River, such a strange name," she replied. But she kept to her work getting a decent bandage and wrap around it. "Claire, that's the boy they used to speak of. Have you ever heard of another River?" said Tyson. He kept his position against the wall, looking over Claire and then fascinating himself over the other male. He had heard tales of this young boy who risked his life to help families, one family who in particular, had lost their cat. No wise hunter would dare even go looking for such a trivial item. But River did and he returned it quickly. Tyson had heard other things of the boy, but he could not help but to wonder why he disappeared. What had happened? His eyes mulled over the seated one, and he noticed his hand on his handle. Moving from his position, he grabbed the boy's hand. "There will be none of that needed," he assured him in a deep and ominous tone. Claire finished her work and stood to look at them both. "Since it seems he will need caring for, I will leave him in your hands Tyson. He will need to rest for three weeks at least, with the help of the pills the desk will supply you. Make sure he does not do anything dangerous or uses that ankle too much. Any longer on that leg and it would have snapped." As she walked out she called to Tyson, and he moved to her. "Keep him with you okay, let him sleep in your home. The others are not used to strangers and you know how they get..." As she finished speaking, she looked to River. "Listen to this man, it will save your life," as she pointed to Tyson and walked out.

Tyson smiled as she left the room, then turned to look at him. "Well, you heard the doctor. No strenuous activities that require you to walk. There are crutches outside for you, unless you prefer I carry you?" he joked as he helped him out the room. He grabbed the meds from the desk and handed the boy his crutches. As they walked to his house, in the far corner away from the rest of the town, he opened the door and let River look around. It was a one bedroom place with a large kitchen, living room and one bathroom. That was all he needed, never seeking the comfort of a woman or man. Though, the second option was a hidden secret from the rest of the land. "Make yourself at home. We will be here for a while."
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Mon Oct 21, 2013 10:53 am

River shrugged. His mother had been a flowerchild. He remembered that and her soft blonde curls, a hue similar to his own. Her eyes had been a pretty green though, and he missed them quite often. Green eyes made him feel safe, though he rarely met someone’s gaze long enough to remember their eye color. When his hand was grabbed, he was snatched from his thoughts, and his hold tightened on the handle. The look that he shot Tyson was distrusting, but he forced himself to release the knife and move his hand away from it. It did nothing to help him relax. If anything, he was more on edge than ever and eyeing the window like it would be easier to flee on a wounded ankle than to tolerate the gentle care of the woman.

When she spoke, his tension redoubled. "No." For the first time, he was prompted into speaking without a question to answer. His refusal to stay in town that long was obvious and he looked from the woman to Tyson as he shook his head. "No," he repeated firmly. "It is fine. I am fine." His words fell on deaf ears, and he was given an answer from the woman that left him struck dumb. Shaking his hand again, he looked at Tyson with something that bordered on panic. It was there for just a minute and then he blinked and it was gone. His expression was blank and his eyes so heavily guarded that an army couldn’t breach the walls he had around himself.

Standing slowly, he barely tolerated the help as he hobbled towards the crutches. Out of danger and frightened, the pain seemed more intense, but he still loathed needing an aid. He was strong, stronger than this. It was ridiculous. He didn’t need their help, but they seemed to not hear his protests to it. The best he could do is wait it out, accept the help, and slip away without making enemies. The whole situation was confusing and the very reason he preferred to avoid humans. The dead didn’t think, didn’t interact, and didn’t expect anything from him but the will to survive. With these people, he had to be careful.

Looking around Tyson’s home, he shook his head and lingered near the door. "Is my ankle really so wounded?" he demanded the moment the door was closed. Despite the harshness of his words, they were still soft, just a whisper, and no emotions infiltrated them.  
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 8:49 am

Moving to the kitchen, he started to fix some food for dinner. "Are you hungry? When was the last time you had a hot meal?" he asked as he looked to the male at the door. Hearing the other's question, he smiled at him. "Claire would never have done or said what she did, so if I were you, I would just start to getting comfortable. If you try and run, I will chase you down and bring you back, then to make sure you heal properly, I will tie you to my bed and keep you trapped like a hospital patient, until you are well enough to run." Tyson got back to his work, preparing the soup and pouring it into two bowls. He grabbed two spoons and sat on the couch. He placed the boy's bowl on the table, while he held his own in his hand. "If you want it, you will have to come and sit to eat it."

Tyson turned on the TV and started watching reruns of old shows. With the lack of working networks, the city relied on old recorded TV channels, which they powered to each TV with a set time and schedule. Tyson had seen them so much, he knew them by heart, but still enjoyed them. Eating his soup, his eyes wandered to the male and then back to the TV. How stubborn was this kid going to be? Tyson had placed a pill in the soup, which would cause him to relax and actually get a chance to sleep. Tyson would need new members to come to the red zone with him, and after watching how he wielded a sword, he knew River would be a great addition, but it would take time. Watching the TV, he laughed at the replayed jokes, enjoying their slight but constant humor.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 9:36 am

No answer came to the inquiry about food. River saw no point in making nice. In a strange town, in a stranger’s home, he was stuck with a sprained ankle, and this stranger was offering him a meal? The whole situation was bizarre. It was like something out of a traveler’s tale that ended in the traveler almost being fed to a village filled with crazies that thought blood sacrifice would keep them safe, if they ate people, the undead would accept them. He really didn’t want that to be the case and to be caught unaware. If they were fattening him up, he was not helping the process along.

The threats unnerved him, because he did know he was too wounded to leave. He’d never escape, and if he did, this hunter would surely find him. He wouldn’t be a hard catch at the moment. He supposed, the best he could do is follow along with the program until he was better. He’d stay weary, stay armed, and not be caught off guard.

Even after the food was finished, he hadn’t moved from the door. Silent and watchful, like a feral cat caged, he barely moved and kept a distant expression on his face. Every flicker of movement made him snap to attention, eyes sharpening and the corner of his lips tilting down slightly. Once Tyson was settled and feeding himself, he seemed to relax. His back remained against the door frame, but he didn’t have to worry about being snuck up on. His ears were keen, and if someone approached, he’d be the first to know it. Still, the canned laughter and Tyson’s real one were a calm environment, and he couldn’t stay up on one leg forever.

After what felt like and probably had been hours, he moved forward. He didn’t sit down, but rather walked through the entire house. Finding windows and doors, he tried all of them, not trying to escape but gauging how easily they opened. He found the bathroom and relieved himself, drinking from the tap before he walked back into the living room and looked around. "There is one bedroom." The words were an observation and an inquiry as to where he would be sleeping. Even in the village that he had grown up in, he had a room that was ‘his,’ where he had privacy to rest and reflect.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 10:17 am

Tyson was enjoying himself, listening to the boy wander his comfy little home. It was no place to house a family, nor a guest really. But Tyson would give up his own personal space for the guest. "While you are healing, you shall sleep in my room. I will stay on the bed." Tyson continued to watch, ignoring the signs the boy was giving for his wish to leave. He was not worried about him fleeing, and if he wanted a chase, Tyson would give him one. As he finished the meal, he walked to the kitchen and started cleaning his dishes. "I hope that does not trouble you. I have the most comfortable bed in the village." He smiled to the boy and went back to his work. As he cleaned up the kitchen, he whistled a song of old, one his mother used to hum to him. When he was finished he grabbed the glass of brandy he had kept, hidden in his kitchen. He poured himself a drink. "Would you care for something to take the edge off your mind?" He smiled to the other, offering a filled glass.

((Have I mentioned, I plan to get naughty quickly?))
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 10:26 am

River frowned at that. There was something decidedly rude about displacing a host, and it was amplified by the fact that he wasn’t even grateful for the bed. He really would have to try to come around to this. Sighing, he walked over and sat on the arm of the couch, out of reach of Tyson but still giving his ankle relief. When the other stood up, he watched him like he expected Tyson to turn into a zombie in that instant and try to eat him. The other didn’t seem to mind being displaced too much. In fact, he seemed to easily go along with all of this. "Am I the first person you’ve taken in?" he asked. He couldn’t help wondering if this was routine for Tyson and that was why he was so comfortable. Was it just that River really was so feral that normal situations put him on edge? Looking at the glass, he wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Thanks, but I’ll pass. I know how that stuff tastes." He’d stolen alcohol before out of curiosity, and never again, he swore to himself. However, he felt that he needed to relax, so he began to paw through his bag, still flicking glances at Tyson.

[[Just the way we do it~]]
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 10:37 am

Tyson smiled to him as he refused the glass. "More for me," he said as he filled the contents of the second glass into his. He took the glass, taking a sip from it and sat back down in his place on the couch. He relaxed, allowing his back to rest easily on the gentle cushions. "I have before, long time ago. I helped a young boy, like yourself and a young female. The girl was brave, like you. She knew how to fight with her hands, just not with any range weapons. As she healed, I cared for her and taught her all I know. She now lives within the village and works the west tower. The boy, he was frightened and scared. I saved him from the group he was traveling with. They ran a convoy and they got overrun by the undead ones. He was the sole survivor and I saved him to bring him back. I normally do not bring anyone back. My job is to route the enemies in the red zone, keep them from our walls. He was stubborn and would not take my help. He actually was bitten and I had to shoot him in the head with an arrow." As he finished the story, he took a sip from his glass and watched the screen again.

((You know it!))
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 10:43 am

River located the herbs he had gathered weeks prior. He had more, stashed in his home, drying to be of use later. For now, there was a small bundle in a leather pouch that was embroidered with the design of a fox. It looked similar to a Native American medicine bag, and when he opened it up, the tell-tale scent of marijuana perfumed the air. Listening to the story of the girl and the boy, he felt sympathy for Tyson. Struggling to save someone and failing was a bitter pain that rarely faded. Still, he heard himself saying, even before he thought it, "I apologize, but I will not be following the path of the girl. I have no interest in living with villagers. They may be content to rot behind fences and let scavengers pick the old world clean to keep them cared for, but I am not." He was determined to explore the red zone, to take out as many zombies as he could, and to find one village brave enough to reclaim more land and die helping them. His nimble fingers located a small, glass pipe, and he carefully packed the dried leaves into the end of it. He’d been on his own so long, he didn’t think to ask if the other minded.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 10:50 am

"I do not plan on you staying here. I expect you to run along and do your own thing. But I will not allow that until I know you can challenge me and win in a duel, a game to see who can kill the most undead. When you are ready, I will take you to the red zone and we shall have our match." He smiled to the boy, watching him prepare his pipe. Taking another sip from his glass, Tyson watched the TV, changing the channel as he went about. "Some cannot stand to live with others, I thought I would do the same as you. But look at me now.." He watched the other, entranced as he was packing the pot into the pipe. It had been a long time since he had touched the substance or even seen it. The village did not import such things, no matter how many times he had tried.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 10:58 am

River stared at Tyson, not sure whether or not he could take him serious. Did the other really expect him to wait around for something like that? The moment his ankle healed, he’d disappear out a window, leave no tracks, and resume what he had been doing for years: hunting the undead, helping those in need, and keeping his distance. He barely felt at ease with people, and the fact that he had shared his name made him more uncomfortable. "I’m young and stupid. I shall die before I settle like you did," River responded. Lighting his pipe, he inhaled deeply, drinking the smoke into his lungs and holding it like it would keep him sane. In a sense, he supposed it would.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 11:24 am

Tyson snickered to himself and drank from his glass. As he stood up, he placed the drink on the coffee table and walked to the bathroom to piss. When he came back, he climbed over the couch and sat down. "So, River, care to tell me about yourself?"
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 11:33 am

River didn’t watch Tyson this time. Instead, he focused on smoking his pipe. When the other climbed back over the couch, he shifted away before settling again. "No," he answered shortly, and like a proper hypocrite, he followed it with a series of questions. "Do you have a spouse or a lover? Why not? Do you fuck the whores in the outlands? When was the last time you were with someone? Which gender do you prefer?" The last question was what he had originally wanted to ask. He found Tyson hot, and this insane voice inside of himself hissed that if they were the crazy folks that ate people, maybe making Tyson fond of him would be for the best. Heh, fond of him. Right.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 11:40 am

Tyson drank from his glass until it was finished. Looking at the emptiness, he moved to the kitchen once more. He filled it up to the brim once again, sipping from it as not wishing to spill. He sat back down on the couch and thought of the answers to the multiple questions. "I do not have time for a lover. I tried in the past, but they always worried what happened outside the walls, too afraid to join me, yet they shouted at me for doing my job. 'Why must you always go outside the wall?' And all kinds of bullshit like that. I don't even fuck the whores anymore, as I have done it too much prior. I tend to keep to myself. Nobody comes here and I only leave to go to the red zone." For the last question, he took a long chug of his drink and lowered it to his hands, "I have been both ways, I prefer either or." His eyes watched the TV intently as he continued to drink.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 11:50 am

River’s gaze finally went to the television. He didn’t want to appear too intent on the answers, but if he had been able to tilt his ears, they’d have been in Tyson’s direction. No lover, no one recent, and no preference. All of those were answers he’d been looking for. Sinking down onto the seat rather than the arm of the couch, he tilted his head and remarked, offhandedly, "It sounds rather lonely." He gave it a moment and the shifted to face Tyson, one hand sliding onto his leg. "Maybe I can repay some of your kindness." The words were purposefully chosen. He couldn’t pass the lie that he was so insanely attracted to Tyson that he couldn’t stop himself, nor could he pretend that he, himself, was that intoxicated. Coming up with a secondary reason that sounded real-the idea of repayment-was best. He could do a lot with that excuse and work his way closer to Tyson. If it turned out that he was in no danger there, then he had a friend in the red zone. If the town was dangerous for him, then he would hopefully have a shield.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 11:54 am

He had ignored the replies of the other, knowing they would be shameful towards Tyson. Of course it was sad he was alone, nobody to keep him warm at night and the such, but what was he to do? He could not force anyone to take his lifestyle as their own. As the sound of repayment hit his ears, Tyson looked to the other, going to reply with a "no need", but as he felt a hand upon his leg, he looked to the male. What was happening here? Surely he was not this drunk that the skittish male was now toying with him? What a cruel trick... Tyson looked to him with slight confusion in his eyes, "what do you mean? I require no repayment..."
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 12:04 pm

River wasn’t refused, and that was enough to give him the little boost of certainty he needed. Moving smoothly, he slid so that he had straddled one of Tyson’s legs, one knee rubbing lightly against his crotch. "You may not, but my pride does. Please, let me do this for you," he answered softly against his ear. One of River’s hands trailed down Tyson’s chest, sliding beneath the lower hem of his shirt, and he rubbed his fingers lightly along his side as he dared himself to trail kisses lightly along Tyson’s neck. If he was pushed away now, he’d know he’d moved too fast, but he resolved himself to try again if that happened. He didn’t grip the other, just touched lightly to ensure that he wasn’t cornering the other. He didn’t want the half-drunk man to feel like River was going to proceed no matter what he said.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 12:13 pm

He was shocked by the sudden attention he was getting from the guarded male. Tyson looked to him, confusion in his eyes, but the feeling was something he could not ignore. This male was attractive, he knew that from their first meeting, and soon he was rubbing himself against Tyson's crotch. Feeling the kisses over his neck, he took River's cheek in his hand and moved his lips to meet the male's. As they kissed, Tyson found himself allowing his hand to rub River's thigh. "If you insist," he whispered into the kiss.
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PostSubject: Re: To The Death   Wed Oct 23, 2013 12:16 pm

Fuck. River hated being touched, so much. Just the fact that Tyson touched his face to tilt his head up bothered him. Still, he kissed him firmly, his hand sliding upward and pulling his shirt off as he broke the kiss. Smiling faintly, it was a flat, faux smile, but he hid that with another kiss, harder and more passionate. His tongue flicked out, teasing the other’s lower lip before he nipped lightly, both of his hands stroking down Tyson’s body. He touched curiously and eagerly, shifting closer to him and deepening the kiss to explore his mouth with his tongue as his fingers teased over Tyson’s nipples, over his chest, down his sides, and then back up his abs, steadily looking for somewhere sensitive.
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