Camp osprey

(Please note this is based off of a game called state of decay 2 if you've got any lore questions of the game or anything like that feel free to message me :))

[Camp osprey 15 months after first infection]
A small group of survivors rushed into the Camp being chased by the dead hoping to find others they were disappointed when they saw the Camp was empty. There was notes saying the army had pulled out of the places scaterd across the place but the fences and gates were still secure the group started to scavenge the place for resources and meet back up at the center of the Camp when the sun set.

“Come on. We should find something. Guns, meds.
hell. Even resources left behind, I don’t f-cking know.
if it helps it helps!”
Kate nodded and dashed into one of the tents, going
through the different cases and boxes, trying to find
anything left behind

[OOC: I’ve heard of SoD but never played it, so lmk
if I do anything wrong or sumn & I’ll edit my post to
how you see fit. Just message me when chat is back]

Daemon stumbled into camp and, right on the heels of the last survivor, slammed the chain link fence shut. The infected slammed against it, but for the moment it held. If the dozen or so grew, though, that could become a problem. Daemon looked around at the deserted camp. They had begun to hope that this would be a safe place, but it seemed the government was pulling back everywhere, and that where they weren't, raiders and bandits were pushing them back by force. Daemon looked around near the gate and didn't come back with much, but he did find a broken piece of a chair leg.

He pulled a hunting knife out from his side and whittled it down to a sharp point. Then he went to work. The infected didn't do much to defend themselves, so spearing them through the head was simple enough. Eventually their moaning and shouting stopped, and all was quiet. For the moment. He had seen Kate go into some of the tents on the west side of camp, so he went on the east side. There wasn't much. The military didn't seem to be in a huge rush when they left, so they had secured their assets well.

That being said, some of the items the military had left were not outwardly useless to the survivors. Daemon found a few boxes of spilled, empty shells. These could be reloaded, if the appropriate tools were found. There also was a locker that someone had forgotten to empty. Inside was a jacket, a holster for a pistol, with a few magazines slid next to where the gun would go. Blessings of blessings, it was filled with rounds. Now all I need is a gun he thought as he found a few more scraps and headed toward the center of camp to meet up with the others.

Carson was searching the medical and research facilities for some useful supply and information
"Testing testing" he spoke into the walkie "listen I'm unsure eif yalls walkies are working but if so ive found something concerning that may be a problem. I found this zed with blood red eyes and well. He's completely coverd in blood." He rummage through a few papers "and uh they call this a blood plague zombie or just a plague zed. I'll keep looking through this stuff but please stay careful" he said before shutting off the walkie and continuing to search

Running and trampling over zombie corpses to the camp, Magnus reaches the fence and climbs over it before dropping safely to the other side. He takes a moment to catch his breath before surveying the area, before noticing a watch tower to his left. His walkie comes to life with Carson's voice, at the end of his message Magnus responds, "Okay Car, keep searching I'll keep an eye on the perimeter.”

With that Magnus climbs the stairs of the watchtower and to his surprise finds a scoped suppressed .22 sniper rifle with a few boxes of .22s in a corner.
[image: cdn.discordapp.com]

He also finds a pair of military grade binoculars.
[image: cdn.discordapp.com]
Taking the binoculars Magnus surveys the surrounding area ready to pick off any zombies coming towards the camp.

After searching through some documents carson decided to check on the others he also needed to calm down a bit so he turned on his walkie "so what did you guys do before the world went to shit? Before all of this I used to work in a hospital as head surgeon for most surgerys."

Seeing that the coast was clear Magnus sets down his binoculars. After hearing Carson's message over the radio, Magnus responds, "Army, private first class, designated marksman. Just finished my deployment in Afghanistan, out of one hell hole and straight into another."

“I don’t wanna answer that question”
Kate spoke softly, as she walked over and
handed out a couple of Walkie talkies, to
everyone

”I don’t know if they work. The box was a little
damp, but on each one of these things it says
waterproof… I doubt it, but I hope they work.
I’m gonna see if I can find some batteries. And
nice find with that gun…”

Daemon strapped on the gear and made his way back to the center of camp. They were a small group, but those seemed to survive the longest. Power struggles and more people meant more demand for supplies and food. And there was precious little of that to go around.

"Nothing special. A simple English teacher who dabbled in a bit of German." He said as he approached. He noticed at least one of their party had managed to find a rifle. That was an absolute relief.

"Thanks Kate." Daemon said as he took a talkie and wiped it on his shirt.

After returning meeting up with everyone else carson rested his hand on Kate's shoulder "it's alright Kate. Just trying to make small talk to past the time ya know?"

Carson pulled out a map of the place "alright so the safest area at the moment would probably be by the reception area. Less fences two solid choke points and some doors. Easy to defend and hopefully let us get some rest."

He then pulled out a few pictures of some zombies completely coverd in blood with red eyes "also if any of you see a zombie that looks similar to these I suggest we stay away from them. Atleast for now"

Packing up the ammo and binoculars in his pack, Magnus slings the rifle over his shoulder before regrouping with the others. Magnus listens to Carson's words and nods in agreement, "Understood Car, we'll set up shop at the reception area." He then walks towards the reception area carefully monitoring his surroundings.

Daemon looked down at the map of the camp. It seemed like most of the makeshift buildings and large tents were left when the military pulled out, so it looked trustworthy overall. Daemon nodded in agreement.

"I agree. We should probably spend the rest of the day reinforcing that reception area. We could take down some of these outer fences and move some of the bunks into the tent. After that we could scavenge the remaining tents areas. Even the tarp could be useful to make some raincoats or water-gatherers. At least, if we're camping here in the long haul." Daemon said. He then picked up and looked at one of the zombies with blood red eyes.

"You don't have to tell me twice. The normal ones are hard enough to take without a weapon, let alone something like this." He says as he lays the image back on the crate they were using as a table.

Daemon watched Magnus head off and decided to follow. He took out a notepad and pen he kept in his pocket and began to write down what he saw that could be of use. Plenty of fencing, some concrete blocks for supports or makeshift walls. Plenty of stuff they could use without even leaving the camp.

Name: Sullivan Parker

Age: 48

Descr.: 6'6", normal built. Long, graying hair that once was light brown. Bright blue eyes, full beard.

Background: A former line medic in the army, now retired as first sargeant. No current job. Hobbies are outdoor cooking and fishing.

Weaponry: An old ashen baseball bat and his outdoor kitchen knife, an Anzick made by James.

Gear: His old battle dress, black army issue combat boots and an army issue backpack

Carson started heading back to the medical area "I'll get back to searching for some medical supplies. And more info on those red ones. Keep safe everyone and remember to keep a walkie close along with a knife."

'Damn' those things.' Sullivan grunted softly when he noticed yet another infected standing between him and what he hoped to be a safe haven. His target was an abandoned camp, camp Osprey. It was only a few miles away, but with the number of infected that swarmed the area, it might as well have been on the other end of the world. He scanned the area. Although the infected was still over a hundred yards away and hasn't caught wind of him yet, it was best to take cover until he had composed a plan to take this one out without alarming however many others were in the area. There really was no point in taking any chances. He noticed a police cruiser that sat on the roadside. Its position in relation to the infected that stood between him and the camp was perfect.

Sullivan squatted behind the steel lump, put his wooden baseball bat on the tarmac, and pulled his backpack from his back. He then checked its contents. An aluminum thermos with fresh water, a first aid kit, a few bags of dried food packed in a small saucepan. In one of the small side pouches was an army issue compass. He put the items back and swung the pack on his back. Not exactly high end, but, under the current circumstances, true treasures. Next up was his gear. His old battledress was a bit dusty but intact and in strong shape. His name tag was barely readable. Only those who looked closely could make out the name Parker on it. The first sergeant marks were also covered in dust, making the line medic's golden stripes look faded. His boots were covered in mud, but otherwise in excellent shape.

With one eye on the infected further down the road, Sullivan then pulled his knife, an Anzick outdoor kitchen knife made by James, from its sheath that hung from his belt on his right thigh. He checked the blade for any burrs and tested its sharpness with the paper test. Satisfied with the outcome, he sheathed the blade, and he picked up the baseball bat. It was a slender ashen bat that, judging by the stains on the business end, had seen a lot of action in its life. It was still in pretty good shape, though. There were no cracks, not even hairline fractures, and its smoothly polished surface was free of dents and scratches.

Sullivan rubbed his full beard and flung his ponytail over his shoulder. His bright blue eyes narrowed as his face wrinkled in full focus. He tried to move the handle of the right backdoor of the police cruiser, careful not to alert the infected that still just stood there as if it was waiting for something. Or someone. He let out a soundless sigh. With any luck it was open with the keys in the ignition. If that was the case, it might still start, so he could simply run over the thing that once had been a normal man. The roar of the engine and the sound of the impact would probably alert all other infected in the nearby area, but by the time they'd reached the scene, he'd be long gone. As a bonus, he might be able to reach the camp a lot easier. And in one piece. The chances on that were slim, though.

Much to Sullivan's dismay, it turned out to be locked. He let out another soundless sigh. A locked car probably meant it was parked there at some point and that the driver had taken the keys. Being a line medic, his knowledge of car mechanics was next to none. There was no way he could get this cruiser going without the keys. He needed a change of plans.

Kate diverted away from the group as they
moved towards the section that was spoke
about, in search for batteries. But there was
something much, much more useful.

She put her backpack and her switchblade
against one of the metal boxes, just outside.

”Holy shit…”
In one of the tent, was a couple broken
wooden crates. One contained a portable radio
backpack.

”if this still f-cking works…”
Kate smirked and put it aside, and
kept searching through the crates, finding
some unused military grade duck tape rolls,
a few 9V batteries, and a .44 Raven Pistol.

”Beautiful damn gun”
While she was admiring the gun, there was a
low growling sound, coming from just outside
the tent.

”What the f-ck?! Guys? This isn’t funny…”
Her eyes narrowed and she lugged the
radio pack over her shoulder and checked
for any mags, for the handgun she’d just
Acquired. Among one of the cardboard
ammo boxes, were over 30 mags, and just
over a thousand .44 rounds, sealed in air tight
bags.

”Shit… I’ll have to bring this to the others”
This then left her with the problem
of whatever was outside.

Magnus reaches the reception area and turns to Daemon, "Hey have you seen Kate around here? I think she split off from the group." Trying to make contact with her Magnus speaks into his radio, "Kate, Kate are you there? Hello? Over." Just as he finished the message Magnus detects movement from the corner of his eye and hears a low growling sound coming from down a hallway connecting to the reception area. "Shit..." Magnus curses under his breath as he unslings and wields his rifle. "Daemon stay close, I don't think we're alone here." He orders.

Caraon was searching through one of the closets of the field hospital when he heard magnus over the radio so he figured he'd check on things "hey are yall alright? I think I saw Kate split off trying to find some more radio equipment. She might be alright but I'll go check."

As carson got up he found the keys to a police cruiser along with a glock 19 with an empty mag "hmm the keys are still useful" he started walking towards where he thought he last saw Kate

Carson called out being a bit louder then he liked "Hey Kate you alright? Magnus is a bit worried. You didn't answer over the radio" but when carson didn't hear a response he git a bit worried

Sullivan sat down behind the police cruiser, his back resting against the bumper. Mowing down the infected that was in his path was no longer an option, so he either had to sneak up on it or avoid it altogether. He made a mental note to himself that he urgently needed to find or make a ranged weapon. A gun would be the most effective, but that would have some serious downsides where it comes to stealth. And stealth, he had learned the hard way, was eminent in dealing with these ... things. So a bow would be best, or perhaps even a crossbow. Back when he was younger, he had hunted quite a lot alongside his dad, who was an expert marksman with bows and crossbows. He used to make his own weapons, something he transferred onto his son, be it only partially. So, although he had never reached his dad's level of marksmanship, he too was pretty comfortable with both. If and when he reached safety, he needed to look into that.

Cautiously moving to avoid making any unnecessary noises, Sullivan leaned to the side. He peeked around the cruiser's left back fender, only to discover that the infected was no longer in his vision. Slightly concerned, he pulled back and grabbed his baseball bat. It was, of course, entirely possible that it had wandered off, but he had seen enough of those creatures not to take any chances. On a hunch, he bent down and looked under the car instead of leaning to the other side to take a peek. That turned out to be a smart move.

The second he was low enough to see the curb on the right side of the cruiser, Sullivan heard a distinct dragging step he was all too familiar with. He needed no confirmation as to what was producing that sound, but knowing where it was would give him a huge advantage. So, despite the risk of losing a few valuable seconds, he still cast a glance. He was just in time to see the two feet of the infected he had seen further down the road disappear behind the right front wheel. Judging by its speed, it would need about five to six seconds to reach his end of the vehicle.

Sullivan nodded happily as a tense smile appeared on his face. More than enough time to get ready to take it out. He swiftly but silently got up into a kneeling position and swung his baseball bat backward. The moment the infected had reached his end of the cruiser, he violently swung it forward at knee height. The force of the blow shattered the creature's knee and instantly stopped it in its track. Its deformed body, that had lost its support jack knifed forward a it opened its toothless, half rotten mouth to utter a scream.

Knowing he'd be in big trouble if it made as much as a single sound, Sullivan acted fast, purely on instinct. He took another swing with his trusted bat, utilizing all the strength he could muster. The bat's sweet spot landed exactly on the crown of the infected's head, smashing its skull. The sickening crack was muffled by the soft tissue of what was left of its brain. As if in slow-motion, the now lifeless shell toppled over and landed with a soft thud on the pavement like a broken doll.

Sullivan did a quick scan of the area, keeping his bat ready to deliver another devastating blow. It wasn't needed. The entire area was devoid of both living and undead creatures. It appeared the sounds of the sort scuffle hadn't alerted any other zeds. With a sigh of relief, he lowered the bat and looked at the body in frint of him. From the looks of it, this used to be a construction worker. He wore dark blue work pants with fortified knee patches, a checkered flannel blouse, and sturdy brown work boots. A leather tool belt completed the picture.

Sullivan expertly removed the tool belt from the body and hung it over his shoulder. It didn't feel particularly heavy, so it wouldn't hold many treasures, but even a simple screw driver would be most welcome. If anything, it certainly wasn't empty. He then checked the pockets of the corpse. It wouldn't be the first time he found some useful stuff in there, so he had made it a habit. This time, he wasn't very lucky. He scored a set of house keys, a Zippo, a crumpled pack of cigarettes, a tape measure, and a wallet. Without looking, he put everything in his backpack and went on his way, continuously scanning his surroundings. He'd take a better look when he was in safety.

To his surprise, Sullivan reached camp Osprey without any further encounters. It had only taken him a little over two hours to cover the few miles, leaving enough time to hopefully get in before dusk. He had heard a few distant screams here and there, indicating an infected was in the vicinity, but he never made any visual contact with one of them. He did run into another corpse, though. From the state of decay, it could be determined that this one had been dead for quite a while. He face was completely gone, her abdomed caved in. The smell was unbearable. Judging by the old-fashioned brown dress with a flowery pattern and the uncomfortable looking big shoes, it seemed to once have been an older woman. He noticed a small part of a handbag sticking out from under her. Despite the stench, he pulled it out from under the body and opened it. Under normal circumstances, he'd have taken it with him, but since the entire thing was soaked with bodily fluids, safe from the corner that had stuck out, he made an exception. Inside, there was a big purse, a shopping bag, a smell pressurized canister, two inhalers, and a handful of bobby pins. He had put the items in his backpack as well. Especially the two inhalers were a great find.

Sullivan carefully approached the gate that formed the entrance to camp Osprey. At first glance, it looked uninhabited, but the noises that came from somewhere deeper inside the camp unmistakably gave away it most certainly was not. Apart from that, he saw several figures moving between the camp's buildings. Judging by their supple movement, they weren't infected, so the camp should indeed be safe. He carefully shook the gate. It was locked. Of course it was. He could try to climb the fence, but he didn't feel like startling whoever was in there, so he decided against it. His best bet was to stay close to the gate and hope someone on the inside would notice him.

“Hey Kate. You alright? …”
The radio on her left shoulder spluttered

”Shit!”
She pressed one of the buttons and tried
to turn it off, ducking behind the desk.

The low grumble turned into a loud yelp, as the
distorted creature screamed, entering the room
and knocking down a mannequin, proceeding
to attack it.

”F~ck…”
Kate whispered to herself,
trying to stay quiet.