event: peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union
[As midnight approaches on the bombed-out wasteland that was once Mayfield, a new sound rises over the horizon: the faint sound of truck engines. Anyone on or near the highway will see a slew of trucks driving towards town, coming from the direction of the orange cloud in the distance. They are battered, rusty things that look to have gone through hell, but they drive, and that seems to be all their occupants care about.
Said occupants aren't in much better shape than their rides. The men and women sitting in or on the trucks look as though they shouldn't even be alive: their skin is covered from head to toe in burns and lacerations, their clothes little more than shredded rags. How they're still standing when their skin is charred red and raw, you don't know, but it might explain the lifeless look in their eyes. The first wave of trucks contains about fifty of them; the next, about a hundred. Over the course of the night more and more of them pour in, haggard-looking survivors of whatever disaster occurred beyond the highway.
What a story these mysterious people must have to tell! It's only fair that you approach them and ask about it. That might be a bad idea in retrospect, though, because the moment they see you one of them points and howls- and it's only then that you see the bloody hatchets in their hands, and the fly-covered heads adorning the truck's grill. One of them raises something that looks like- and yes, it is a double-barreled shotgun, and you duck just in time to avoid having your head blown to pieces. By then, of course, the rest of them are swiftly descending on you, and it's time to make a choice: fight, or flee...
They don't speak, beyond the occasional growl, scream, or hiss of alarm. If they feel pain, they aren't showing it. And whatever chance you might have had of reasoning with them is long since gone, because these people have come to Mayfield for one reason and one reason only: fresh meat. And with the grocery store destroyed, it looks like there's only one dish left on the menu: you.]
[Starting at midnight of the second day, Mayfield has been swarmed with psychotic cannibals. Mindless zombies these aren't- the cannibals are fully capable of forming plans, laying traps, and hunting in packs, chasing down anyone they see or hear with ruthless determination. They are fully human and can be killed, but the noise of combat is sure to attract more. While they can bust through doors and barricades, they are incapable of breaking into a locked basement- though not for lack of trying. Once they've ascertained survivors in a basement, they'll either set themselves at attempting to break in or simply lay in wait for someone to come out.
The mods will not be playing the cannibals; you're free to NPC them as you wish, within reason (no spontaneous cannibal dance numbers, please). As mentioned above, while they are human and do display life signs, they will not respond to any attempt at communication with anything other than violence. Any characters they successfully subdue they will eat, alive or dead. As always, direct any questions, comments or concerns to this post.]
Said occupants aren't in much better shape than their rides. The men and women sitting in or on the trucks look as though they shouldn't even be alive: their skin is covered from head to toe in burns and lacerations, their clothes little more than shredded rags. How they're still standing when their skin is charred red and raw, you don't know, but it might explain the lifeless look in their eyes. The first wave of trucks contains about fifty of them; the next, about a hundred. Over the course of the night more and more of them pour in, haggard-looking survivors of whatever disaster occurred beyond the highway.
What a story these mysterious people must have to tell! It's only fair that you approach them and ask about it. That might be a bad idea in retrospect, though, because the moment they see you one of them points and howls- and it's only then that you see the bloody hatchets in their hands, and the fly-covered heads adorning the truck's grill. One of them raises something that looks like- and yes, it is a double-barreled shotgun, and you duck just in time to avoid having your head blown to pieces. By then, of course, the rest of them are swiftly descending on you, and it's time to make a choice: fight, or flee...
They don't speak, beyond the occasional growl, scream, or hiss of alarm. If they feel pain, they aren't showing it. And whatever chance you might have had of reasoning with them is long since gone, because these people have come to Mayfield for one reason and one reason only: fresh meat. And with the grocery store destroyed, it looks like there's only one dish left on the menu: you.]
[Starting at midnight of the second day, Mayfield has been swarmed with psychotic cannibals. Mindless zombies these aren't- the cannibals are fully capable of forming plans, laying traps, and hunting in packs, chasing down anyone they see or hear with ruthless determination. They are fully human and can be killed, but the noise of combat is sure to attract more. While they can bust through doors and barricades, they are incapable of breaking into a locked basement- though not for lack of trying. Once they've ascertained survivors in a basement, they'll either set themselves at attempting to break in or simply lay in wait for someone to come out.
The mods will not be playing the cannibals; you're free to NPC them as you wish, within reason (no spontaneous cannibal dance numbers, please). As mentioned above, while they are human and do display life signs, they will not respond to any attempt at communication with anything other than violence. Any characters they successfully subdue they will eat, alive or dead. As always, direct any questions, comments or concerns to this post.]