Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20160126170544/@comment-26809040-20160127234320

Eric came within sight of his roof, pacing slowly out of the fog with no ferals trailing behind him, for the time being. He owed his lack of persuit to the fact that his coat was now smeared with various rotten fluids and bits of flesh that he had "borrowed" from an unfortunate lone ghoul that had stumbled across him when he lost the others.

He rarely used this method of disguise, as it was incredibly hard to wash the stench out of any clothing coated in feral guts, and smelling like the inside of a ghoul was just unpleasant in general. But as of now, he was low on ammo for his pipe rifle, and sick of being chased around. His hood was up and his gas mask was on, though no filters were in, as he merely used it to lessen the stench.

He arrived at his mausoleum just in time to see the back of Clyde disappear into the fog.

"Ugh, great. Fuckin everyone is running away from me now,"

He intended to simply camp out on the roof until the fog lifted, until he heard several voices coming from the direction Clyde went. Deciding that safety in numbers was better than an elevated position and a chokepoint he couldn't close, he set off slowly towards the noise.