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Post by Argentina on Jul 30, 2012 12:24:41 GMT -5
(OH MY GOD, SCOTLAND... I.... AFS9DHFISFRIBEI. I'M SORRY ENGLAND, I WON'T POST AND BOTHER YOUR THREAD ANYMORE AFTER THIS, BUT... SCOTLAND. PLEASE. MARRY ME FOREVER. WHAT IS AIR? I CAN'T BREATHE. I'M LITERALLY IN TEARS RIGHT NOW! ;U; EDIT: Hey Scottie, you forgot something. Don't worry, I fixed it: )
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Post by [x] Spain on Jul 30, 2012 14:14:55 GMT -5
((Guys, I'm supposed to be paying attention in class. ENOUGH WITH THE FUNNY GIFS AND PICTURES!! XDDDDD))
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Post by England on Aug 1, 2012 9:24:41 GMT -5
((Scotland is god. Forever. That is gorgeous. Imma marry this picture, what-))
"You're the most violent entity on this entire planet, has anybody ever told you that?" England sighed as he joined his brother, not too close as not to get caught in his swings. If the older Nation had power, control was something he scarcely combined with that power. England wasn't sure if his brother would be willing to lug his headless corpse and head separately back to the warehouse, where one of the medics could patch him up. Waking up again after a particularly gruesome death was never pleasant. The perks of being a Nation.
Using firearms in a crowded infestation site was never a good idea, so England opted for pulling out his trench pikes. In a slip of his hand, his fingers were comfortably nestled within the hold and he swung with the pointy blade tip at one of the zombies stumbling towards him, cutting it straight across the face. The undead being moaned and faltered just enough for England to kick it in the ribcage, sending it sprawling on the floor. It was trampled over with a squelching symphony of noises, and England immediately set to dispatching the zombies that had killed their comrade.
"You know you can't singlehandedly kill them all, right?" he called out, unsure how far out of earshot his brother was. Probably couldn't even hear him in that adrenaline-induced rush of his. Oh well. He'd tried. "Just stop toying with them. You'll have time when we're not completely surrounded and all but overwhelmed like this." and on a strict time schedule, counting down to the moment where England would finally give in to the stress and burn out.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 1, 2012 12:08:52 GMT -5
Only a loud, rough laugh met England's first comment, even as he took down another two zombies, simply using cleaving swings between average neck height so one head fell to the ground, followed by the body, and the other got a nice deep cut into its skull, causing it to drop as well. "That comin' from ye, bullocks! Yer off yer head! /you're crazy/"
He finally spotted a ladder going up the side of a building and ducked between the cars at the next break he got. When England yelled at him again, he was maybe only a car length away.
"Yer overwhelmed!" he snarled back as he picked up speed and propped the flat of his blade against his open hand, making the sword a bar across his chest. Then he plowed into the zombies waiting for a chance to throw themselves on England's knives. With the zombies bowled over, he quickly stepped back and away from their flailing feet and pointed at the building with the ladder.
"Ye wanna go up? There ye go!" he snapped as the zombies tried to get back up and he began dropping his blade across legs, either breaking the bones on the newer ones, or simply cutting the legs off. That should slow them down. The group of zombies he had left behind were catching up to them, coming from between the cars.
"Use the cars!" he suggested as he hacked a last leg off and threw it at the rest of the oncoming zombies in hopes of distacting a few with a possible snack. Then he jumped up onto the hood of the nearest car and stepped over the windshield to stand on the roof, hearing the metal flex and protest him standing on it. From here he could see they had cleared most of the space between them and the nearest buildings, having drawn all the zombies that had occupied the stretch to themselves.
[*tries to find a minister who will marry a person to a picture*]
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Post by England on Aug 1, 2012 12:54:52 GMT -5
"I didn't need you to tell me that!" England protested, kicking one zombie in the plexus and sending it back against a wave of its brethren. As the inhuman monsters took a few seconds to absorb the hit and retaliate, England backed up against a car, and, ignoring the zombie inside, scratching its rotten fingers against the glass and leaving blood everywhere, he climbed up on the hood, and then on the roof.
The zombie had effectively surrounded the car, but thankfully still hadn't piled up enough to get on top of it. England made a 'tch' noise with his tongue and quickly ran a possible scenario in his head. The other cars, still stuck in eternal traffic, were pretty close to him, so if he tried, he could jump onto another roof. The only question was whether or not he would be able to jump high enough of quickly enough to avoid the grabbing hands below him.
Either way, there wasn't any other option: he had to jump and join Scotland, who'd gotten a few cars away from him. The building would be able to give them some reprieve. They had to get there- and quick. England knew he was lithe and flexible enough to make the jump, now all he had to do was hope he'd get lucky enough, too.
His heart beat fast as he took a couple of steps back, almost jumping out of his skin when he felt a hand brushing against his pant leg. Not good. He had to go. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on the target, and, nodding to himself, he gripped his weapons tight, and started to gather momentum. He took a few steps, jumped down onto the back hood, and pushed with all his might.
England jumped.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 2, 2012 11:44:44 GMT -5
The cars were his own personal track and obstacle course. He'd run down from the top of a car to the trunk and kicked-in the head of a zombie in his way before leaping over that small open space. He left fingers and hands grabbing for his legs, but his momentum ripped him free, carrying him forward. He struggled with his balance when he switched from car to car, cursing the traveling pack that was throwing off his distribution of weight. Each time he switched cars, he took a moment to check on England's progress. He didn't want to move too close, because that would allow the zombies to concentrate themselves on a smaller space. Staying apart like this broke the zombies into two smaller groups.
He paused on one rooftop to bang his blade against the edge of the roof, trying to attract the attention of the zombies around England. "Ah yoo! Come 'ere ya jobbies /shits/!"
[Can't post much since I don't know if England made it or if he jumps like a dork and just fell down to become zombie noms.]
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Post by England on Aug 3, 2012 9:36:29 GMT -5
[Oh come on, he's not THAT bad xD]
England shivered as he sailed right over the heads of the undead and landed on the back of the car in front of him. Thankfully, wearing tight clothing everywhere helped as he never even felt the fingers tickling his calves as they attempted to grip him, or that one finger he ripped clean off the zombie's hand because it got in the way of his feet.
Using the momentum from his jump, England continued, repeating the motion with the cars around them. As he advanced, the zombies thinned slightly out as most of them had circled him around the first car. He was too concentrated to assess the situation, though, because the blood splattered on all the cars made things much more slippery.
Once he got comfortable, he lifted his head to find Scotland and directed himself towards him.
"Stop taunting them, you'll taunt them later, when we're on a rooftop laughing at them!" he yelled. "I'm not intending to stop, so fall into pace!" he called before letting his eyes wander to where the ladder was. "Let's go." and he quickly, but carefully jumped and ducked his way to the ladder.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 3, 2012 12:17:43 GMT -5
"Aye-Aye, laird /lord/ an' master!" Scotland lifted his sword and held it up before his face in a mock salute before he also moved to jump off this car and onto the next. He gave his distraction credit for England having safely made it this far. Why not?
He leapt onto the next car, not even pausing on the rooftop before darting down the back window and across the trunk to leap onto the next car. Unfortunately something had previously happened on this car. Maybe someone got eaten here and left zombie goo behind, because the hood was slick and he slipped upon landing. Fortuantely he threw his weight forward so the result was only a series of loud bangs and screeching as he hit the windshield with his knees before his chest hit the edge of the roof and he wildly grasped for purchase on the top of the car. The screeching came from him dragging the end of the hilt across the metal roof, trying to use it like a mountain climber would use a rock pick.
As soon as he confirmed he wasn't going to slide off the car, and when something thumped against the inside of the windshield, the celtic nation forced himself back up. He crawled onto the roof on his knees before getting back to his feet to move on. Let England laugh. Once they were on the roof and not in imminent danger of being eaten, he'd pay the blonde back.
Up, down, leap, up, down, leap. He was quickly making his way over to be in line with England and leaving the pack of zombies behind, since they couldn't keep up. They might be able to run across the cars all the way to the side of the building.
[And off we go! I might be out of town tomorrow, so response could be delayed]
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Post by England on Aug 6, 2012 11:50:09 GMT -5
England rolled his eyes at Scotland's comment, and chose not to reply, because right now was not a good position to have a spat. He had to keep concentrated and focused on his goal.
Which didn't work out so well for him when a series of thumps and screeches caught his attention, bringing him to a (very slippery) halt on a car roof. Feeling his balance waver, he tried to keep going and clumsily stepped down, and jumped onto the ground. A quick assessment of zombie positions confirmed that he was not in any immediate danger, and took a moment to look back and see what the noise was.
His blood froze in his veins for just a second there when he saw Scotland scuttle back up on the car roof, and followed both his movements and the enemy's movements unwaveringly until Scotland was back on track. And he only snapped out of his trance when moans reached his ears, way too close for his liking, and he jumped back, only to realize that his heart was thumping madly.
England turned around and started jogging and weaving past the cars again, telling himself that he hadn't been worried for his brother just for a second there. No, the redhead could take care of himself just fine. England needn't worry. That didn't change the fact that his heart was still coming down from the leap it had taken.
For the first time since they left, England finally seemed to start to realize that perhaps maybe this had been a bad idea.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 6, 2012 13:10:39 GMT -5
[Oh yeah? You're invalid. I'm so good at debating... orz]
Scotland saw that England had hopped down on the ground, which wasn't a bad idea with how slippery the cars could be. He also hopped down since they had a little bit of breathing room with the zombies shuffling along a short distance behind. He hurried to catch up to the blonde, putting more room between them and their pursuers.
"There!" He pointed at the building with the ladder that was coming on quick with them reaching the first buildings at the end of town. Trying to plan ahead, as he ran, he worked on at least shoving the blade of his sword between his back and the neck of the cloak. He counted on the hilt to act as a hook on his cloak, keeping the blade from just sliding down his back and falling out. He would need both hands for the ladder.
When they reached the building, he weaved through the cars there and actually shoved England at the base of the ladder, trying to hurry him up it. There may be zombies on the roof, but England's blade were better suited for a quick draw and if he hooked his feet in the rungs, he could even fight from the ladder. For Scotland it would be more difficult. Here's hoping zombies couldn't figure out how to use a ladder and come up after them. Their running shuffle into town had alerted more zombies a little further in, and he could hear their insistent moans shuffling just a little bit closer.
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Post by England on Aug 6, 2012 14:58:15 GMT -5
[You made me laugh out loud in the middle of the office. That awkward moment.]
"Don't push me, bloody hell, I'm going!" England ground out, bristling when he was shoved. His nerves were already on edge, especially with the threat practically surrounding them already, so he immediately snapped when he was rushed even more. With every step he took, his conscience got heavier and heavier, and he mentally kicked himself allowing this in the first place. Oh well, nothing left to do anymore. They may as well go along and get it over with.
Quickly grabbing the first rungs, he hoisted himself up hastily to make room for his brother. The metal from the trench pikes around his fingers dug into his skin as he gripped the bars, and he winced, but he did climb fast so that Scotland could get away from the zombies' grasp in time. So far, it had been determined that zombies lacked the coordination to climb, and England hoped it stayed that way, at least until they got up on safer ground. Fighting while hanging onto the ladder would prove to be difficult, and dangerous.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 11, 2012 15:30:14 GMT -5
With England climbing the rungs, Scotland waited a long as he dared with the zombies closing in. Before there was even a full body length between them, he started climbing, due to the fact of seeing a zombie appear at the corner of the building. He started off climbing fast to get his legs out of their reach, and only hoped England was moving just as fast. The fact he didn’t end up wearing England as a hat was a good sign.
There was no fighting nor whinging while on the ladder, preferring to save it for when they were safely at the top. Once his legs were safe, he slowed down and kept glancing up to see if England was pausing or stopping, and looking down to see how many zombies were gathering below, and if they were trying to climb the ladder. Well look at that. They could hang onto the lower rungs just fine, but none seemed to be climbing, at least.
He was patient on the ladder, waiting for England’s assessment of the rooftop, and whether they would have to come up fighting or not.
[Short post is short. Because all Scotland can really do is stare at Artie's ass.]
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Post by Zombies on Aug 12, 2012 20:10:27 GMT -5
[I'm sorry to break your very, ermm... interesting moment, Scotland, but I couldn't resist. Remember that a true Brit never goes out without a brolly. You never know what might suddenly start falling out of the sky.]
The employees of the store had had a small burst of logic when the apocalypse had hit, and when some customers had stumbled inside, bloodied, rotten and knocking everything down, they'd had the common sense to run up to the roof and barricade themselves outside. What they hadn't realized at the time was that nowhere is safe, even if some places happened to be safer than others. They'd gone to sleep without a second thought. They never did wake up.
And, unable to think logically, the zombies couldn't open the barricaded door to go back down, and had instead wandered in circles on the roof, waiting for something to change.
When they smelled fresh meat, their instincts dictated that this was the change they were waiting for. Stumbling towards the source of the smell, they moaned in delight, all four of them, as they got closer and closer to the edge, next to the ladder... And, no pun intended, bemoaned the lack of logical thought in their brains as they disregarded the ladder and just took the easiest way down.
Screeching, the zombies threw themselves right off the rooftop, falling head first, jaws snapping, on a crash course towards the two nations on the ladder.
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Post by England on Aug 12, 2012 22:06:29 GMT -5
[.... Are you kidding me. Also, Scot, your comments are worth gold <3]
England had seen many things falling from the sky. He always saw rain, occasionally hail, during winter, he saw snow... But never in his life would he have guessed he'd have to put up with raining zombies. Up until then, that is.
He saw the undead right as they tipped off the roof.
"Watch out!" his heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat as he tried to react to something he'd never thought he'd have to face. Flying zombies. Now he'd seen pretty much everything.
He first braced himself for impact by planting his feet and clutching the rung tighter with one of his hands. His other elbow went up and bent, the tip of the trench pike horizontal so he could slice the zombie as it reached him. Thankfully, the undead creature didn't know how to aim, and England was blessed enough to avoid having a zombie snapping right in his face. Instead, it landed with its abdomen impacting against his lifted forearm, but there was no reprieve as the zombie kept screeching and grabbing at him, pulling his hair and belt and snapping his teeth dangerously close to his clothes.
Letting out a shaky breath (that he denied was peppered with slight fear), England grunted in effort and flipped the zombie off of him, momentarily crying out when it clung onto his clothes nonetheless, dangling. Stabbing blindly behind with an awkward twist of his arm, a squelching sound and a moan confirmed that he'd gotten something, but he doubted it was the head.
"Hey, do something, wanker!" he called, struggling to escape the zombie's surprisingly tenacious grip.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 14, 2012 11:47:01 GMT -5
[Hey, he's prepared. He's got an England overhead. All is well.]
With England's body and pack overhead, Scotland had no idea what else was above. One zombie pretty much missed them both fell with a loud and liquid-y /smack/, having landed on two other zombies below and taken them down with it. Another managed to grab at Scotland's arm as it fell past them, half jerking him off the ladder before the strain on its fingers caused the rotting flesh to rip. With slimy fingers barely clinging to his arm, he jerked his arm violently back, the flinging motion causing the zombie to fall away, leaving a foul smelling smear on his sleeve. The next instant there was an impact to his pack, and since he had one hand off the ladder already, it swung him sideways briefly as he tried to recover his balance and his grip. He used the strength of his one arm to pull himself back towards the ladder enough to grab it with his free hand and stabilize.
"Wit ye doin', ye bassa!" he yelled back up at the blonde, assuming England had tried to kick him in the head or something to that effect. Right before he saw flailing zombie legs above and England screamed at him. He assumed it was him. There wasn't anyone else to be screaming at, except maybe the zombies.
Of course this was right before he heard a screech behind him and felt something touch the back of his head. That wasn't England's foot. Those were both above him, planted on the rung. Uh oh. He quickly grabbed the rung that England's feet were on, praying he wouldn't be kicked in the face and heaved himself up a rung. He grabbed for one of the flailing zombie legs, jerking his head from side to side to hopefully encumber what was likely clinging to his damned pack. Closing his fingers on a slimy ankle, he gave a mighty jerk, leaning as far out from the ladder as his clinging arm would allow for extra pulling distance. If he was lucky, the pest on his back would fall off. And hopefully the zombie's leg didn't just come off in his hand.
Immeadiately after that, he grabbed for the strap to his pack at his shoulder with his free hand, trying to slide out of it. Then he would swap hands and let the pack just fall off. If he could just drop the pack, he could drop his passenger.
[Have to stop and check if the zombie fell off England or Scotland just has a giant drumstick]
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