(( As I am new here and have a slight phobia of posting in an RP that has already been around for a wile (Always afraid ill mess up, im good at that =P), i have decided to start my own RP (Yay!). As a starter i have redone my post form a few days back (made it suck less). I look forward to rping with you all ^_^ ))
Deep with in the sundered city of Fairview, a man was looking out over the ruins of the once proud city. A city that had been turned up side down and plunged into a shadowed nightmare. The man looked solemly out over the waste and sighs softly, allowing himself a breif moment to remember how life had been before the outbreak. How... perfect his life once was. The spread of the undead infection had taken everything form this man, his home, his friends, his faith and even his love. Kara. He could still see her face when he closed his eyes, haunting him... warming him. He could still hear her melodic voice ringing in his ear. Oh how he misses her. That woman was once his entire life, her passing had shaken the preist to his core, a harsh blow that had damaged even his unwavering faith.
The man turns his attention to a distent, yet firmilure, city street. From his perch on the roof of the Woodgate Appartments he could see most of the ruined city, including the house in which he and his beloved use to live. It was in that very building he was forced to take that which meant most to him. A single tear runs down the mans cheek as the memory creeps in agian, a memory he had tried to keep at bay for weeks on end...
He could see her face clearly, the day he killed her. God she was beautiful, even in her finnal moments as the infection worked its way though her body. The man closes his eyes tightly, clenching his jaw tightly as he tries to shake the memories form his head. He did what he had to. She was infected and if he had not killed her, she would have langished on as a mindless ghoul. She did not deserve such a curse. The man clenches his hands tightly into fists. Damn them. Damn all the infected! He swore he would see them burn, every single one of them. He knew what he had to do, he would change from a simple preist to a weapon of devine justice. The priest no longer cared if he lived or died, in truth the best part of him was already dead. It died the day his bullet peirced the heart of his wife. All that was left to him was faith. Faith, and vengence.
The man rolls his shoulders, pulling himself out of his morbid thoughts. The sun was setting on the ruined city. It was almost killing time and he knew he needed to be sharp. He loads a new clip into his rifle before slinging it over his shoulder. He glances to the saber that was resting in a sheath on his hip before he reaches for his machette. The blade was warn, sporting tell tale signs of usage. As shadow falls on the city, Kalemi leaves his safe haven and decends into another night of fighting for survival in this hell on earth.