Survivel of the Spieces

In the Beginning

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Since the time of ancient man there existence was rumored. Tales of a mythical beast full of rage and primal instinct. At first no one believed, sightings were passed of as hoaxes or hallucination's so there numbers grew.

Europe was the first to fall as they spread like locusts. Man used its last resort, nuclear weapons but in the end it only helped them. The sun had been damaged and only showed its grace 4 months out of the year.

The last of the human race are scattered through out America, there only hope a small band of military trained specialists called, The Wolf Pack.

The new cycle is upon us and with it darkness, this is it the last stand and only one species is gettin outta this alive........Man, or Werewolves.

Rules

You play as either a full blown werewolf or a military specialists charged with protecting the human race.

No Powers (unless your a werewolf, then you have the powers and weakness of a normal werewolf)

No Auto-Hits

No God Mode

Normal Rules apply and all questions asked in the Ooc: Thread.

Code name Arrow, Sat his black rifle hitting his side as the truck moved, looking round he saw the normal faces, It hard to bleive this is what it has come to , The human race was being hunted, He smiled a little hard to catch the concept Werewolves, Well not till you see one try and take off your head.

Arrow eyes where blue, But due to the lack of sleep they had gone blood shot the blood veins stood out in the whiteness, His face was gray and pale, The urban uniform, They where going into the city to look for any signs of life that where not covered in fur, Checking his pistols , Nice silver round , He made all his bullets himself and was almost at the top of his game.

"Well this is it , the big apple always wanted to see this place" He let out a laugh as his scottish aceent filled the van, He use to have long white hair but had cut it short, A claw mark ran down his face, An attack on the base a couple of months back , Lucky he had not been bitten.

The wind whipped through the alleyway in London. Water dripped from a broken drain nearby, and discarded papers and trash lay sprawled across the pavement. The city lay in darkness, most of the lights having been disconnected from the City's power grid. The man was careful not to make any sounds as he moved through the alley, and, daring, onto the main street. He took out a walkie-talkie and whispered, as quietly as he could,"I'm on the surface."

But that one whisper was powerful enough to sentence him to death. They swarmed from the abandoned buildings around, like insects. Each with teeth bared and their claws brandished against the night sky. Some came crashing through third story windows, preparing to rain down from above. He held up his machine gun, loaded with silver, and began firing at the werewolves. Most of his shots missed, the only ones that hit barely making it to a vulnerable spot on the werewolves' bodies. His screams were lost as they dug into his flesh, with each bite his pain grew. Blood flowed like water through the street, and the sound of meat being ripped off of bone filled the air. One tore into his voicebox, immediately silencing his voice. He spasmed a few times before finally laying limp on the street. His sking was comepletely gone, only some meat still on his bones. His eyes lay horrified in their sockets, blanking staring up into another sunless day.

The werewolves backed off of the body, except for one, who stood above the body, staring down at it. He bent down and picked up one of the eyes, cutting it from the ocular nerve and severing it from the dead brain. A smaller werewolf came up behind him. "You were right, Scott. The resistance sent their most inexperienced man." Scott slowly reverted into his human form, looking up into the sky. "That only means they have better ones than this at their disposal." He dropped the eye onto the street, squishing it under his foot.Scott turned and began walking down the street, away from the body an the two or three dead werewolves. "What about the body?" The werewolf asked. "Leave it. As a warning to the humans." Scott didn't even turn his face to the werewolf,"You told me you'd have that ship ready yesterday." Scott was waiting for a ship to carry him and some of his best wolves to the States, where all the food lay. The werewolf pleadingly looked up at him,"I know, Scott," Scott turned to the werewolf and growled,"You are only to call me Alpha, Do you unerstand!?" The werewolf cowered,"Yes, Alpha, and-"

Scott slashed at the Werewolf's neck before he had time to finish. Blood poured from its neck, not allowing it to speak. Scott then broke the werewolf's neck and sent if flying into a nearby shop window. "I never liked you anyway." He moioned for the next in line to the Beta position to come forward, and he walked back to the rest of the pack.

The stench was overwhelming as the fires burned and smoke drifted up into the night air. Gambler, Code Name Rated R and his detachment had found a den near the Texas Mexican border. They went in fast and hard dealing out death as if it were the Sunday special at Denys.

His men continued to take the dead body's and toss them on the flames as they drank and joked. Gambler and his men whore all black all the time, there faces were painted some with skulls others in pure black. They lived like wolfs, eating and sleeping outdoors never in the same place twice always on the move.

Sir, we have a report of some activated in New York City. They think there may be some survivors there Sir.

Gambler grabbed his necklace made of fangs and squeezed. New York had been the scene of one of thee most brutal assaults the Werewolves had mounted.

"LOAD EM UP BOYS! We're outta here."

Arrow had pulled the short straw, He was loading up the roaster, Roasters where fresh meat on a spit roast over a warm fire, Slowly burning the meat, the wolves loved it, Came to it like bees to honey, Only one problem you had to be damn fast, If the were's caught you well it was a feeding frenze.

This allowed the rest of the men to hunt for anyone left alife with out the weres attacking, Well that was the plan, Arrow was just placing the las one on top of the national history mesuem, Looking round he started the fire and zip lineed down the side and began to run "Arrow to command thats five roast up".

Pulling his black fingerless camo gloves tight , he smiled as he hread the howls behind him, Licking his lips, He kept a hand on his 45 as he ran, On the back he carried his rifle and straped to each leg where to Silver combat knifes, They had gotten him out of the Attack on New york all those years ago, "Command to Arrow , turn left for four clicks and meet up with your group out".

Nathan lay on his back, his clothing sodden with his own blood. The spreading pool of crimson liquid represented everything that he had left in the world. Outside the door, wolves howled. The fear was gone, to be replaced by sadness. Everything was gone, everything was destroyed. The progress of thre thousand years of civilisation had slipped away. Leaving only the wolves. Death was Nathans only enemy now.

He pushed himself to his feet, feeling his heartbeat quicken, and reached for the sawnoff by the door. Two measures of buckshot and seven rounds of silver in his pistol. Time to make the repo mans schedual a little more hectic. If he was going to die he was taking a few of the mothers with him.

The door splintered as his boot connected with the paneling. The trio of monsters on the other side were caught unawares and Nathan managed to get his shotgun round. Bang. One down. The largest of the pack leapt for Nathans throat but instead caught the empty shotgun. The squealing wolf on the floor caught the first of the pistols rounds. Then the big bastard. Nathan kept fireing until the weapon clicked empty.

Third wolf, the runt of the pack. The one that got away. The one that slipped under his guard, Nathan felt his jugular tear under the beasts fangs, felt himself fall and for one horrible moment felt life without a heartbeat.

Sparda Augustus walked in the sewers. The wolves attacked the city quickly, and Sparda had to get his wife Alexandra out fast. They took a manhole as an entrance, and raced into the stench filled sewers. Rats clung to their feet as they splashed among the filth, moving as quickly as possible. "Sparda, wait!", Alex told him. "Look", she said as she pointed into the darkness. A lone werewolf clung to the sewer wall. It was small. "What's it doing there alone?", she asked. Sparda drew his shotgun. He only had that and his pistol. "Getting it's @$$ blown away, that's what", he said gruffly. He aimed and fired at the beast.

KABANG!!!

The monsters head exploded, gore and brain matter splattering into the filth, rats scurrying. As soon as it's body fell, Sparda regretted firing. A howl of rage sounded above, and scratches could be heard on a manhole behind them. It started lifting up. "RUN!!!", Sparda yelled as he pushed Alex ahead. Wolves were dropping into the sewers, and they pursued the humans.