the white walkers are coming.

Catelyn Stark is now up for grabs and wanted. We had a previous player as Catelyn, so she's been established as currently missing/separated from her family but we've tried to keep her vague so her plotting is mostly up to you if you claim her.

Hyle Hunt moved to London from Dublin in his early twenties, was appointed to the police force two years later and is proud to say he hasn’t done anything of substance since. (Aside from fathering a child, but well, he prefers not to go into that.) He’s a competent policeman and if he has potential to be more than competent—well, we’ll never know, will we? Hyle isn’t lazy but he’s motivated neither by ambition nor idealism, leaving him in a position where he ekes out a passable performance. He’ll never be a Brienne Tarth or Jaime Lannister and he’s fine with this. When the dead started walking, however, Hyle’s forced out of his calculated indifference and into survival first and foremost. While his primary concern is his own skin, Hyle’s not as morally apathetic as he pretends. While even Brienne may not be able to make him into a hero, he finds himself pulled into her idealism and well—Hyle’s always been a follower first, yes?

The virus is advancing. The stages of the disease appear to be advancing more rapidly, causing in more widespread infection. Engaging with those infected may result in the infection consuming your body in less than several minutes now. Those who are suffering with the infection also appear to be becoming more aggressive and mobile in their movements. It is more important than ever that you do not interact with the infected. Shoot on sight. We repeat: shoot on sight. Aim for the brain. They are also susceptible to fire. Barricade your doors and do not go out in public. God have mercy on your souls.

 There was thunder, a storm, the night he almost drowned. Trapped in seaweed and waves, under the storm and dying in the darkness, Aeron found his God. Sweetly wrapped in thoughts of never seeing Euron again, like the waves wrapping his veins.  He awoke, and now he is older. Wiser, calm and cruel. A Catholic priest, Father Greyjoy, he remains part of the Greyjoy Mafia, linking himself closely with Victarion (not Euron, never Euron), whom he hoped would take the head off Euron and employ himself in the top seat (Theon is too weak, Asha is a woman). However, the infection hit, carved itself into the London underground.   That’s when Aeron became like the sea that tried to kill him. He calls them baptisms, and he’s been doing them for years. Questioning the Greyjoy family, threatening, snooping: they all leave you in a dead-mans float. A cruel man under the guise of a calm Catholic leader, Aeron firmly believes this infection is the work – and the wrath – of God.  Father Greyjoy says that drowning is more terrifying than being eaten alive. We’ll see, won’t we?

the rp is due a huge update, i apologise, i had some bad news last week so i've been a pretty crummy mod. but expect a proper update with some more breaking news RE the virus' advancement soon :)

Quentyn, has, as a rule, avoided dangerous situations. From the time his father shipped him off to boarding school (much to the displeasure of his mother) he has always preferred to stay out of things- out of arguments, out of conflicts, and for a while, out of the family. Returning to London for university brought him back into contact with his sister, if somewhat tenuously; their lives grew separate from each other, and reconnecting has not gone perfectly. Still, things had been falling into place, and he’d been happy. Of course, all of that changed after the Cinderella Massacre. Quent had managed to fib his way out of attending (parties made him anxious, and that Targaryen family made him even mroe anxious). His school went into immediate lockdown, and information is sparse. He is currently trying to communicate with his family, anyone, and more importantly trying to find a way out.

Rahkaro wants to make it out of this infection with more than he had before it started but will he end up losing everything he had while he attempts to gain more?

How does one even begin to describe Areo Hotah? Intelligent, sexy, hot bod, musical genius, amazing songwriter, voice of an angel, gifted artist – they all come to mind and are correct. Some would say that I lack humility, that I am arrogant and full of myself and too cocky – and I say that’s a perfect motherfucking description of me right here. I live a fanfuckingtastic life. Peopleworship me. In case if you haven’t heard of Areo Hotah, Imma gifted musician. I’m writing this biography in the midst of some epic shit going on in London – zombies and walking dead and shit. How will I even survive? If I don’t, my agent better publish this shit and maybe put this as a foreword. And better mention that time I bought myself a Cartier love bracelet. Oh, and dedicate this shit to Doran Martell, my benefactor, my first boss, awesome friend. Shit I hope he’s alright.

If there’s absolutely one thing Victarion Greyjoy cannot stand, it is disrespect. Brother to one of London’s most infamous mobsters, Victarion is one of the more prominent members of the Greyjoy family business, which he thought would’ve been enough to get him control of family operations after his brother’s untimely death. Apparently, it wasn’t. Instead, the entire business went to his older brother, Euron and Victarion was unfortunately left with the rank of ‘second-in-command’. Despite this, Victarion has taken it upon himself to make sure that his line of things run smoothly and has nothing but pain to offer for anyone who shows him anything less than respect. He gets enough mockery from his brother.  But that was before everything went to hell. Now, it seems the family business may be falling apart, and Victarion might benefit from all this chaos. Maybe he’ll wait to see how his brother fares in the zombie apocalypse; maybe he’ll strike when Euron’s weak. Who knows? Victarion just knows that for now, he’ll survive. If he isn’t going to tolerate any disrespect from his human employees, he knows damn well that he won’t tolerate any from the undead.